#tbh the prospective can fit them both if you think hard enough

[theselfshippingrose]

(Listening to French exit album) hm….. how can I make this all about my selfships….

[jungkxook]

—hot boy bummer. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader 

⟶ genre: fuckboy!jungkook / friends with benefits / friends to lovers + smut  

⟶ words: 14,633

⟶ rating: 18+ 

⟶ summary: when jungkook offers you a proposition of just sex, no strings attached, how can you possibly say no? after all, what are best friends for?

⟶ warnings: kind of a crack fic, sprinkle of angst, way too casual conversations mid-sex, jealous jungkook, slight himbo jungkook tbh (he’s kind of a sweet loveable idiot), he also has a big dick oops, man bun and blonde jungkook to feed my fantasies!, multiple smut scenes!!!, missionary, dry humping, oral sex (m receiving), face fucking, unprotected sex, slight degradation (mostly jungkook hating himself), brief name calling, light choking, sort of praise kink

⟶ note: this was inspired by a number of things but mainly do me by kim petras being on jungkook’s spotify playlist, this tiktok sound, and this tumblr post lol also big thank you to @bratkook​ and @onherwings​ for letting me ramble on about this fic and reigniting my inspo for it 💛

( p.s. i tried to proofread this but if y’all see any typos no u didn’t, thank u <3 )

Being friends with Jungkook meant a myriad of things but mainly that there were hardly ever any boundaries that stood between you and him.

Having known him for most of your life, it was just a quintessential part of yours and his relationship with one another. From high school parties where you drunkenly spewed on his shoes and in his dad’s car after he tried lugging you home (and taking the fall all himself for your sake) to letting him lose his virginity in your bed to some girl you didn’t know because your parents were out of town and his would crucify him on the spot if they had found out; or him discovering your stash of vibrators in your dorm one day, or seeing each other naked more often than was probably necessary, there was nothing that either of you could do that would phase the other at this point even when it maybe, probably, definitely should.

College, and Jungkook’s sudden six pack of hard rock abs, only seemed to amplify the chaos of your friendship. If you’re being honest, the abs are sort of a plus ━ but they brought an air of fuckboy to him that is undeniably there even if he tries to deny it sometimes. You suppose it isn’t all his fault. Jungkook has always been bold and brash, attractively charming. Considering he’s seemingly made it his mission to sleep with every girl on campus before he graduates (undisclosed, if you’re being honest, because he’s never outwardly admitted it but you have a hunch), his confidence somehow hasn’t failed him yet.

But then there’s one night in which you think to yourself briefly: this surely must draw some sort of line.

“What if we, like, had sex?”

Jungkook says this a little too casually from beside you. He’s sat on the couch in his dorm, scrolling aimlessly on his phone, and you’re sprawled out on the remaining space, feet kicked up in his lap. You’re positive he’s drunk but, then again, so are you. The remnant shot glasses of soju you had both started the night with (though you think Jungkook’s had half the bottle himself), and your second glass of wine, are all evidence of that. You’re so absorbed by some anime Jungkook had been watching upon your arrival and refused to change that you almost don’t hear what he says. Almost. You do, however, nearly choke on the gummy bear you’ve just tossed into your mouth.

After a sudden hysterical fit of coughs, you manage to sputter, “Excuse me?”

“Like, hypothetically speaking.” He hardly budges when you turn to gawk at him, as if he’s asking you something as casual as what to eat for dinner or if you could pass him the T.V. remote. “Except, not really hypothetically.”

“You’re joking, right?” You scoff.

Jungkook blinks. “No. Why would I be joking?”

You blink. The longer you stare at him, the quicker you’re able to discern that there’s some sort of earnesty in his words and it slightly concerns you. Suddenly, you’re warm in the face. To distract from that painfully obvious fact, an incredulous laugh bubbles at your lips and you kick one of your feet at his thighs. “Very funny, Koo. Can we change the show now if you’re not even watching it?”

“I’m not joking, Y/N.” The severity in his tone makes you sit up at once. When you turn to look at him, he flashes you a taunting smirk, though the devious sparkle in his eyes lets you know this seems to be anything but a joke to him. “I’m sure you’ve thought of me naked before.”

“You’re such a fucking idiot━” Okay, so maybe you have thought of him naked before but how is it your fault when you literally have seen him naked before, and he’s so unabashed around you? “Should I bring you to a hospital to get your head checked, or━?”

“Just hear me out━” Now, he pushes himself to the edge of the sofa. “Why are you here right now?”

“In life? Because I honestly have no clue━”

“No, I meant here. Getting drunk in my apartment on a Friday night instead of getting railed.”

“Okay, I didn’t ask to get called out like that,” You grumble stiffly. “And because you’re my best friend, and I like spending time with you.” It’s not entirely a lie, because you would much rather spend time with Jungkook than anyone else. But when you feel his eyes boring into you in a look of scrutiny, your lips form into a pout which you try to hide by puckering them. “Also because boys are stupid and Hoseok’s blind date stood me up. Again.”

The events from hours earlier resurface in your memory, in which you had spent all evening making yourself look pretty for a boy you had only talked to through text that your roommate had introduced you to, only to arrive to the restaurant you were supposed to be meeting at and waiting there for half an hour by yourself before the boy had sent you a message saying something along the lines of “something came up, hope we can reschedule,” filing it under one of the lamest excuses you’ve ever heard because it hardly even borders on a valid excuse. It’s what had ultimately made you storm into Jungkook’s apartment an hour ago, exclaiming aloud as a greeting with a simple yet scarily cheerful I hate men! because Jungkook knows all about your plights with finding a significant other (or even just someone decent enough to open your legs to), usually lamenting men’s inability to have any emotions. Even the ones who you think are respectable enough, who say they’re fine not having sex on the first date, usually tend to flee right after you finally let them in because sex, as you come to find, seems to be all that men care about.

Admittedly, Jungkook is not any different.

“But it’s not like you’re any better.”

This seems to personally offend Jungkook. He looks at you cynically. “Me?”

“Tell me why you’re here with me on a Friday night when you’re literally one of the hottest guys on campus,” You point out. “You can get any girl, and yet you somehow manage to ruin it every single time. Like with Eunha.”

Jungkook winces. The poor Eunha in question is a pretty girl from your chem class, whomst Jungkook had somehow managed to charm. From what you know, they had hooked up a handful of times before that fateful night in which Jungkook had abruptly broken things off with her. If you’re being honest, he’s not a total monster. The only thing that seems to scare him away is when a girl asks to cuddle him in the morning or talks about the prospective future together. He doesn’t want to hurt them, he told you once before, and finds it much easier to nip any potential relationship in the bud before it can get too far, too out of control.

“We literally only slept together three times anyway and we never went out,” Jungkook points out. “What’s the big deal?”

A roll of your eyes doesn’t go unnoticed by Jungkook. “Yeah, it’s not her fault you’re scared of commitment.”

“Nu’uh,” The boy sulks. “I’m only scared of realistic things, like microwaves.”

A snort bubbles at your lips, and it’s frustrating how adorable he finds the simple action. Rather than entertain the thought of his irrational fear of kitchen appliances (because you’ve heard it all before, and you still can’t find where he was incited with the terror of an exploding microwave), you sit up.

“Jungkook, I don’t even like you like that.”

“I don’t like you like that either. That’s why it’s so perfect!” Jungkook says brightly. “Look, we know each other better than anyone else ever could. We’re already comfortable with each other. We don’t have to go through all that boring small talk. All I’m saying is we could give it a try. No relationship, no emotions, just sex.”

You consider the thought for a moment, weigh the pros and cons in your head.

The cons? He’s your best friend.

The pros? He’s your best friend, and he’s hot.

Truthfully, your slightly buzzed mind can find very little to dissuade you away from the inviting proposition and maybe that’s why you begin to entertain the idea. And, sure, you had just complained profusely about how men sometimes only used you for sex, but it’s not like you don’t have needs too. You just don’t have the gusto in you anymore to spend days on a boy who will only just leave you the moment you let him have sex with you. At least with Jungkook, he’s already offering you a blatant deal of sex only and you know you won’t have to worry about him breaking your heart; and he doesn’t have to worry about the dreaded dreamy post-sex cuddle talk of a future family and babies and a white picket-fence home. It’s a win-win for the both of you, really. Or maybe you’re just telling yourself that.

“How would we even start?” You ask finally. “I mean… Do you even find me attractive enough in that way?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook hardly bats a lash. He meets your stare, licks slowly at his lower lip. When he sees the cross look of disbelief scrunching at your face, he hastens to respond. “I’m not blind. You’re fucking drop dead gorgeous, Y/N.”

“But physically attractive? I’m no hot girl Eunha.”

“If I wanted Eunha, I’d be between her legs right now. Y/N, of course I think you’re attractive.” A gentle sliver of a smile dances upon his lips. He leans his head on the back of the couch, eyes fluttering over your appearance shortly. “I’ve always liked your lips, and your eyes. Think they’re beautiful.”

Suddenly, you’re flustered again. The room feels as if it’s getting increasingly warmer, yet you seem to want to bask in the feeling and attention a little longer. “That’s too sentimental.”

“It’s true though.”

“Well, you’re lucky I’ve always had a thing for idiots,” You jest playfully. “Jerks, too. Playboys who are too hot for their own good.”

“Ah, and I love it when you talk dirty to me.” A cheeky grin tugs at his lips as he clutches at his heart over his chest. “It’s a good thing I like it a little too much, knowing you’ll always keep me in check.”

But then the mirth seems to fade from your mind long enough for you to hum aloud pensively, “And I’ve always liked your eyes. I’ve never seen such big eyes before. Sometimes, if I look long enough, it’s like I can see the stars in them.”

As you’re speaking about them, his irises glisten magnificently. He bites at his lip now, as if to hide the way his soft smile turns sheepish. “I like your bum.”

“Really? I always worry it’s too flat.”

“Are you kidding? Your ass is a fucking god-send. It’s hard not to stare when you wear leggings sometimes,” Jungkook admits, earning a small giggle from you. “And I like your boobs. I’ve always wondered…” He trails off abruptly, shaking his head. He shoots you an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop. I’m being an idiot, aren’t I?”

“Well, maybe I don’t want you to stop.”

Silence saturates the room now, settling comfortably between the two of you. He wonders what you’re thinking, and you wonder if he can hear your heart hammering against your chest. Perhaps on any other day when you were of sound mind, you could find a plethora of reasons as to why sleeping with your best friend was a terrible idea. But being that you were slightly tipsy, and Jungkook isn’t far off, you can find not one fault, except for maybe how tragically hot Jungkook looks sitting across from you and how he’s never been yours, at least in that way. Would it be so wrong to try just once?

You shift then, pushing yourself to your knees if only so you can worm your way towards him before swinging one leg over his. You settle back on his lap, hands gripping his shoulders. He can feel your core press against the inside of his thigh, just where his dick is nestled and he has to bite back a moan. His eyes are wider than usual, as if believing the moment to be surreal, though something sultry threatens to darken them.

“Y/N…”

The excitement crackles through your veins like electricity. You’ve never been in such a compromising position with Jungkook before, and you wonder if it should be concerning just how much you’re enjoying it. It almost feels as if time slows down, every second dragging on, yet he can’t look away. His hands come to tug at your hoodie (that he’s almost positive was his once upon a time before you nicked it from his closet) and you meet him part way, replacing his efforts as you pull it up and off your body. Then, you’re sitting back on his lap in your full nude glory, chest bare and right in his face. He eyes the swell of your breasts, the perk of your nipples. Of course you’re not wearing anything beneath your hoodie ━ and, god, he loves it.

“Touch me?”

Your voice comes to him in an almost dream. You reach for his hand then, your palm soft around his knuckles and the tattoos that ink his skin. It’s the same hand of which he wears the other half to your pair of friendship bracelets in one of his favourite colours of red, decorated with little pink hearts. It came in a matching set of two (yours in your own favourite colour, currently on the wrist of the hand you’re using to guide Jungkook’s), cute little macrame braid ones with hearts woven into the design that you had pointed out one day while you were both at the mall and he had bought without any hesitation mostly as a joke but resulted in both of you wearing them on a daily basis.

Now, all he can do is continue watching you with bated breath as you guide his hand right where you both want him. He comes to cup the underside of one of your breasts, your hand over his pressing his fingers tighter together until you can feel some sort of pleasant pressure. And, just like that, something feral and needy seems to snap within him. His hand slithers from your grasp if only so he can flick his thumb across your nipple, mesmerized by the softness of it. He’s only ever seen you naked once before and it was fleeting. You were both drunk, skinny dipping in a lake with a handful of other friends, but it had been too dark to notice much else. But now? Now, he can see all of you and the sight strikes a chord right down to his dick.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” Jungkook groans.

“Koo.” The cute little nickname you had given him sounds dirty now as it slips from your lips in a moan. “Too sentimental.”

But Jungkook isn’t listening because you really, really, really are so beautiful. He bows his head to your chest, catching one of your nipples in his mouth. He murmurs something against your chest that sounds akin to, “We can take things slow.”

“Slow…” Your head is spinning, but it’s a delightful sensation. Something hard pokes against your ass now, and the adrenaline only seems to build within you. It’s odd how everything feels so foreign ━ exploring his body and these newfound feelings like the uncharted territory it is ━ yet secure and safe at the same time. As if you know what to do next, where to touch next, how to move, your bodies almost fitting together like pieces to a puzzle. “Y-Yeah, I like that. Can I move?”

“Fuck, yes, please,” he growls. He’s much too busy nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin on your chest, teeth tugging at your nipple.

You hurry to obey, giving a small experimental swivel of your hips that almost immediately has the both of your inhaling a sharp breath of air. His dick strains against his sweatpants, the material doing very little in protecting him against you. Your core throbs as you rub yourself on him.

“Like this?” You rasp.

“Yeah, just like that.” Jungkook’s head rolls back onto the couch, his eyes squeezing shut and his blonde hair spilling into his eyes. He clenches his jaw, the nerves fluttering in the corner, as pure euphoria riddles his features. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anything so sexy. “Fuck, we probably shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Yeah,” You agree, breathless. “Do you wanna stop?”

“No. Do you?”

“No.”

“Thank god.” The sigh of relief that emits from Jungkook startles even him but, in the heat of the moment, he doesn’t register how any of this could be a mistake. “Ah, shit━ Faster━”

“Mmm, Koo━” You whimper as you quicken your pace, the vulgar harbored thought of his dick in you thrilling you to no end.

“Fuuck, I’ve never heard you sound like this before. So needy, so desperate,” Jungkook grunts, his fingers digging into your hips. And it’s all because of him, the way you’re feeling. He’s never wanted to hurry to please you faster, itching to tear you apart if he’ll get to hear those noises from you again and again. “I━”

He’s gonna cum, and he’s not even in your pussy. What’s gotten into him?  

He presses you a little harsher against his dick, sitting up straighter so that his chest is pressed flush against yours. He leans forward, lips chasing after yours, before you pull back just enough sluggishly to press your finger to his mouth.

“Uh uh. No kissing,” You rasp.

The words process in Jungkook’s head, but the weight of them don’t seem to linger in his daze. He’s far too overwhelmed by you and the way you’re making him feel to even begin to try to decipher why you avoid his mouth and so, for now, he doesn’t care. Instead, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, nose nuzzling against your throat. You clutch at his hair, tugging at the roots tight enough for him to moan.

“Nnngh, Jungkook━” You whine. “I’m gonna━ Oh, fuck, Koo━”

And then you’re unravelling, right in his very arms. He holds you close as you tremble and shake, rutting your hips sloppily against his to ride out your high, and Jungkook thinks he can definitely get used to this. The familiar burn forms in his stomach and, without even thinking of it, he comes in the confinements of his pants.

But in the heat of the moment, he doesn’t notice quite a lot of things. Neither do you.

So, maybe you could both find a hundred and one reasons why having sex with your best friend would surely cross some lines, but the thing with you and Jungkook (and what would eventually blossom into a hubristic relationship of sorts) is that it wasn’t just sex. You would always be comfortable around him, as he would be with you. And nothing could ever possibly get weird between the two of you ━ not when you had both made a promise to each other that it wouldn’t get in the way of your friendship.

Because ━ while, yeah, he’s hot and suffers from fuckboy tendencies from time-to-time and, aside from random late night hookups ━ he was still the same boy that would drag you out at three in the morning to drive to the next city over for a bowl of ramen, who would marathon shows as long as One Piece or Game of Thrones with you, watching as much as you can in one all-nighter; who would come to your dorm, no matter the time of day, the moment you said you were sick or suffering from cramps, piled high with your favourite snacks; who shared a repertoire of silly inside jokes with you that never made any sense to anyone but the both of you; who insisted you both wear friendship bracelets even in college. He would always be an angel to you, treat you well, because you meant that much to him.

A small thought in the back of Jungkook’s head wonders, above all else, if you were anyone different, would he have even bothered suggesting such a ludicrous idea, drunk or not?

Because he’s positive no one else could make him cum in his pants like a horny prepubescent teen ━ no one except for you.

“If we’re really gonna do this, we need to set some ground rules.”

Admittedly, neither you nor Jungkook knew what would happen after Jungkook’s proposition to you. Maybe you were expecting the two of you to pretend as if nothing had ever happened, or laugh it off as something so inconsequential that neither of you should bother worrying about it. Instead, the very next day, you find that you’re back in Jungkook’s dorm. Only this time, you’re in his bed, and he spent the past half hour sufficiently eating you out.

Now, you’ve had an epiphany in the form of Jungkook’s dick, and that is that it’s big.

You’ve seen it before on occasion ━ like when he streaked nude across campus as a dare or when he needed to use your shower because his apartment was under maintenance and he walked out on you in the living room ━ but this is clearly a very different circumstance. All red, swollen, angry tip wet and glistening with precum. You had to brace yourself as he pushed himself into you, cautiously and slowly, enjoying the way you stretch to fit around him. If you had a drunken excuse the night before for loving the thought of getting off with Jungkook, then you surely don’t have one now. It’s a shameless guilty pleasure, you think, that he’s at least indulging in.

“Rules,” Jungkook scoffs now. “You’re such a nerd. Fuck, you feel so fucking good━ You doing okay?”

More than. Your head lolls back against his pillow, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head. “Mhm.”

“Want a minute?”

“Maybe.”

Jungkook pauses without any hesitation, gnawing on his lower lip as your walls clench around him so tightly he feels he might fall apart then and there. His hands are on your hips, thumbs rubbing comforting circles against your burning skin. A few deep breaths later and you’re probing Jungkook to move again. His hips rut into yours at a leisure pace, and he marvels for a moment at the way his dick disappears into your pussy, slick and wet with your own arousal. The thought of being in you ━ of finally feeling your walls wrapped around him, all wet and snug ━ is enough to make him bust then and there, but he refrains miraculously.

“Holy fuck,” You groan. “Why are you so big━”

Your voice cuts off into a delightful whimper, walls aching around him. Jungkook snorts, burrowing his face in the crook of your neck. “Nothing sexier than hearing you stroke my ego.”

“Don’t let it get to your already big head,” You retort sluggishly.

“Big head!” he grumbles against your throat, lips brushing faintly against your skin and sending shivers down your spine. “Insult me some more. You know how it gets me going.”

“Oh my god, shut up. Where were we?”

“Rules.”

“Right,” You breathe in a sharp inhale of air as he grinds against your hips. “And rule number one is no kissing. That’s way too intimate.”

Jungkook quirks a brow. “How is kissing more intimate than having my dick in you?”

“It just is.” You refuse to tell him the truth. You poke your fingers at his sides, causing him to jerk against you. “Don’t question it.”

“Fine. Then no sentimental shit in general, like cuddling or pet names,” Jungkook retorts. “And no public displays of affection.”

“Okay,” You nod. “Fuck, Jungkook━”

“God, I love hearing you moan my name,” Jungkook grunts. He watches with fascination the way your face reacts at his every movement. “Too much?”

“No. Kinda hot,” You admit. An abrupt thought pops into your head that has you murmuring hazily, “Oh, and you can’t have sex with me to your sex playlist.”

Jungkook looks appalled. The sex playlist in question is one you’ve heard briefly before, if only because you’ve walked in on Jungkook and his flavour of the month a handful of times one too many times.

“So you’re telling me you don’t want to have the best orgasm of your life to The Weeknd or the Neighbourhood? WAP?” Jungkook asks, wriggling his brows suggestively. “Alanis Morissette?” You have less than half a second to register the 90s pop singer as out of place before Jungkook breaks out into song with a brief rendition of Head over Feet. “You’re my best friend, best friend with benefits━!”

Part of you knows he’s joking, but there’s still a small sliver of you that makes you gawk at him dubiously before dissolving into a fit of unabashed laughter. It rumbles against his chest, vibrates his dick in you. “You’re not serious, are you? That’s not actually in your sex playlist, is it?”

He flashes you a shit-eating grin. “Guess you’ll never know now.”

Another roll of your eyes makes him snicker. He’s gotten used to your snide remarks, but he’ll gladly keep suffering under them if he gets to wipe that taunting smirk off your face each time with the way his dick makes you feel. You cling a little tighter to his shoulders and muse aloud, “So that’s it then?”

“Yeah━” Jungkook knows you’re referring to the rules and your plan, although it’s getting harder to focus on talking as he continues to grind against you. “And nothing has to change between us, even if we stop. We’re still just two best friends.”

“Yup.”

“Who have sex from time to time.”

“Yeah.”

He can’t help himself. He tries again. “Who might kiss.”

“Nope.” You’re smiling even despite the way you shoot him an aggravated stare first.

“We might?”

“No, we definitely won’t.”

Worth a shot, he thinks to himself. At least you really do always keep him in check.

After all, what are best friends for?

So, maybe a part of you thought the shift in your relationship with Jungkook wouldn’t last very long. A week at most, and maybe Hoseok would find you another pointless let down of a blind date to go on and Jungkook would get horny for some other girl ━ but it’s certainly been more than a week now, and you’ve had sex with him more than two times.

A third, and a fourth, if you’re being blatantly honest, and maybe a few more times after that but you don’t really remember what count you’re both on now which should probably be concerning. Days elapse into days, which turn to weeks, then months. Morning, afternoon, and night.

It’s not as if you hadn’t already spent almost every waking moment with Jungkook but now you had a reason to be at his apartment at any and all hours of the day and not solely for movie watching marathons. You’re positive he’s still having his occasional random flings, though you’re fortunate his commitment issues at least force him to go to their homes rather than his for the most part, so you never really have to witness half-naked girls stumbling out of his apartment just as you’re wandering in. He says it has something to do with how his bedroom is his sacred space, though you think it’s more like he wouldn’t want his hook ups discovering his Overwatch figurines or something (because, before Jungkook’s proposition, you’ve walked in on him once and a girl when they were entangled on the couch in his living room).

But you’ve noticed lately you’re getting too comfortable with your arrangement with Jungkook; too comfortable knowing he’ll be there at the end of a long day to greet you, to please you until you’re crying out his name. Sometimes he tells you about the girls he’s texting, or shows you a picture from a hot girl’s Instagram whose D.M.s he’s just slid into. And sometimes you’re left wondering how often he comes straight to you after hooking up with a random girl.

It shouldn’t matter to you, and you swear that it doesn’t.

Maybe you’re just overthinking things. Hoseok certainly seems to think so, but his judgement wasn’t much to go by.

Because, lately, Hoseok has been encouraging you more and more to give Yukhei (the blind date Hoseok had initially set you up with when you found yourself at Jungkook’s) another chance for two reasons: 1) “Yukhei’s a nice boy,” he had cheerfully reminded you, “he’ll treat you well,” and 2) “Stop fucking your best friend. It’s morally wrong.”

There were many things wrong with his statement, from the fact that you didn’t exactly consider standing up a date as “nice” and that you were also still begrudgingly lamenting the way Hoseok had discovered your recent fling with Jungkook (although, you weren’t being very inconspicuous, having shower sex with Jungkook early one morning when you were certain Hoseok would be spending the day at his fiance’s home instead of yours).

But then you meet Yukhei and you realize that, oh crap, he’s cute. And he’s nice.

As it turns out, after bumping into him one day when you’re with Hoseok lounging on the quad of your campus and he comes bounding over to return a textbook Hoseok had lent him for a specific class, Yukhei is so easily charming. He also gives a pretty valid excuse for flaking on your date, proving that he had to present his dissertation, making you clearly aware that he’s cute, nice, and smart. Jungkook, on the other hand, doesn’t see the appeal, yet his curiosity and intrigue seems to get the best of him.

“So that was your blind date?” Jungkook asks after grabbing your attention on the quad and stealing you away from Hoseok and Yukhei. “Yukhei?”

“You know him?”

“Seen him around,” Jungkook shrugs nonchalantly. “I’ve never really talked to him. But him? You’re not telling me you’re actually interested in him, are you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe,” You’re truly just as clueless about your feelings towards Yukhei as Jungkook seems to be. “What’s so wrong about him?”

“He’s━” Jungkook stops. He shakes his head. “Heard he’s got a small dick anyway.”

You shoot the boy a wary look, only to find him grinning deviously at himself. “Maybe he just wants to be friends.”

At this, Jungkook lets out a scoffing sound that borders on disbelieving laughter. “No, I definitely think he wants to have sex with you in his Toyota Camry, Y/N, but what do I know?”

“You’re not jealous, are you?”

“No, why would I be jealous?”

You can’t quite tell if he’s angry or not but, then again, why would he be? As far as either of you are concerned, there’s nothing to be jealous of.

So then why does it feel like he’s simply just telling himself that?

“Are you seriously on your phone right now?”

Jungkook asks this from somewhere behind you a handful of days later, a little peeved but most likely because your jarring 8:00 a.m. alarm had roused the both of you violently awake. In his defense, Jungkook is not a morning person.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You’re currently sprawled out on your hands and knees on his bed, phone still in your grasp after having plucked it off the nightstand in haste. Your clothes are scattered across the floor of his room, remnant clues of the night before when he had beckoned you over after hours, and your body is covered in nothing but hickeys and an unbuttoned blue flannel belonging to Jungkook that you had chucked on last night that does nothing in covering up the swell of your breasts which Jungkook is now currently eyeing. “Am I not giving you enough attention? Were you expecting cuddles or something? Thought that wasn’t in the rules.”

“No,” Jungkook huffs. He runs a hand through his long messy hair in an attempt to fix it; he ultimately gives up taming his locks, instead using the hair tie around his wrist to tie his hair back into a cute yet sexy little ponytail. As he does so, you notice the red friendship bracelet around his wrist and smile smally. “But my dick could use some cuddles. Preferably with your mouth, but it will also gladly accept your hand.”

Jungkook may not be a morning person but, as you’ve come to realize, his dick certainly is.

It’s painfully obvious too, his hardened length straining against the gray sweatpants he had thrown on at some point. And, god, did he have to wear those? It left little to the imagination, the outline of his length teasing you just enough.

“I should get going,” You say. “I have a test coming up. There’s supposed to be a review session today in class, and I don’t want to miss it.”

“Well, you don’t seem like you’re in a rush since you’re still on your phone,” Jungkook points out. “Who are you texting anyway? Yukhei?”

“Anger is an emotion,” You rebuke casually. “So is jealousy.”

Jungkook feigns a look of mock hurt. “I’m not angry or jealous! I’m needy.”

Still, Jungkook reaches out to swiftly pluck your phone from your hands.

“Jungkook━!”

He’s pressed up against your back in an instant, his dick hard against your ass, and he doesn’t move very far even when you twist in your spot in an attempt to grab your phone back. You don’t, and instead you end up on your back with him on his side, propped up on his elbow. You miss when he casts a swift gaze down at your phone, only to see that Yukhei’s chat messages are indeed open, and something seems to gnaw terribly at his gut before he tosses your phone to the side. He’s looking at you now with those big beautiful eyes of his, and you hate it.

“Please?” he beckons. He ruts his hips impatiently but slowly against your leg. He drops his head to bury his face in the crook of your neck, lips dangerously close to brushing against your flesh but he refrains somehow. “M’so hard right now, could probably bust the moment you touch me.”

The thought is tempting, having a helpless Jungkook cumming in your hands. The sight alone has quickly become your favourite thing, helping the frustrated boy get off. Besides, you’re certain you could ask Hoseok for the review notes.

Fuck it, you cave.

You fidget until you’ve pressed him back against the bed and have clambered on top of him, wiggling your way down to fit between his legs. Jungkook is watching you now with a half-asleep expression, though his teeth sink into his lower lip as you pull at his sweatpants until they’re down at his thighs, letting his swollen dick spring free.

“You know━” You hum. You reach out to grab at the base of his cock. “Yukhei wants to hang out, and Hoseok keeps telling me to give it a shot.”

That much is true. Part of you wants to say yes, if only because Yukhei seems promising enough, but the thought alone is enough for you to feel as if you’ve done something horribly wrong to Jungkook.

“Oh.” The word eclipses Jungkook’s mouth in a shallow breath of air. Then, your mouth wraps around the puffy head of his dick, shining with leaking precum that you swallow back, and Jungkook’s reaction is immediate. Head thrown back, face scrunching together, muscles in his toned abdomen flexing as he seizes and grunts aloud. “Oh, fuck━ Well… Are you gonna?”

Jungkook asks the last question with much difficulty, and a part of him thinks it doesn’t all have to do with how you’re making him feel.

“Dunno.” You snort around his dick, and he marvels at how adorable such a lewd action can seem.

You decide to focus on sucking him off because it truly is a sexy sight to see, letting the topic of Yukhei drop. Jungkook certainly doesn’t mind. As you swirl your tongue around his tip and reach up with your free hand to fondle at his balls, his long hair falls into his lashes but he still tries to find you past his wild locks, hooded eyes gazing down at you.  

“Ah, shit━” Jungkook hisses delightfully, hips jerking forward instinctively into your mouth. The faintest hints of a drowsy smirk tug at his lips. “Fuck, yes, just like that.”

Yeah, you think to yourself then, you’re definitely going to ride him later. Screw going to class.

From: Jungkook Sent: 1:05 a.m.

bro i noticed u werent wearing our friendship bracelet while u were giving me head earlier. is everything ok??

You wake in the morning to a single text from Jungkook ━ and one you had not been expecting.

That’s not to say that getting the occasional text message from Jungkook at any and all hours of the day was abnormal, but the extent of his messages sent anywhere past midnight usually always range from something more coherent in the form of “what would u do if i was there rn?” to something exuding typical lazy Jungkook manner with a simple “dtf?” or “send noods lol” to something even more provocatively cryptic such as the eggplant and splashing water (or, as far as Jungkook is concerned, something else entirely) emojis and nothing else, left open for your own interpretation that typically, usually, without a doubt, results in you in his bed and his dick in you. But this seems to be something else entirely.

Unfortunately, Jungkook’s text isn’t the only concern of yours.

Hoseok has spent the better part of the morning giving you a lecture on why having sex with your best friend is bad. He seems so passionate about the topic that you’re certain he would have pulled out a powerpoint at any moment, each slide ending in a picture of Yukhei and why you should maybe try fucking him instead, if you entertained the idea a little longer. Hoseok claims it’s just a harmless date. Yukhei might be a nice boy, but you don’t know how you feel about him. You don’t want to lead him on, and a scary thought points out the fact that maybe, while Yukhei is a nice boy, he isn’t Jungkook.

“I don’t get why you don’t just give Yukhei a chance━” Hoseok is saying now, sat on the couch in your shared apartment with him. “It’s not like you have to marry him. I don’t think one date will hurt━ Aaand, you’re not even listening to me anymore, are you?”

The sheepish look on your face is enough of an answer for him. You’ve been anxiously eyeing your phone and the text Jungkook had sent you last that you’ve yet to respond to, even despite being awake for more than a few hours now.

“Yes, I am listening,” You say dismissively. “Something about how one date won’t hurt, but that’s what you said when Yoongi asked you out, and you’re literally engaged now.”

The glistening metallic ring on Hoseok’s finger is evidence enough. The boy looks down at it as if seeing it for the first time, purses his lips, and then nods in agreement. “Okay, yeah, maybe you’re right. But you’re holding out for Jungkook and for what? He’s hot, yeah, and he’s your best friend, sure, but at the end of the day he’s still just a horny male who wants to stick his dick in anything that moves.”

“Hoseok.” Your grumbling sigh is interrupted by the motion of your phone vibrating against your thigh once more. You peek at the screen fleetingly to see a new text.

From: Jungkook Sent: 2:35 p.m.

send n00ds?

miss ur tits :(

Typical Jungkook.

The text from the night before is all but seemingly forgotten from his mind, and you can’t quite tell if you’re devastated or relieved. You don’t have very long to discern which emotion you’re feeling when Hoseok snatches your phone to look at what’s gotten your attention before exclaiming suddenly, “Aha! See! What did I say?”

“It’s not like that,” You wave Hoseok off. “Jungkook treats me well. He respects me, and I’m comfortable with him.”

“And how long until whatever this is━” He gestures vaguely to your phone as if to point out your relationship with Jungkook, “has to end? Do you really think a pinky promise is going to make sure your friendship with him isn’t totally ruined? I mean, how can you continue being casual friends with someone, see them dating someone else, when they’ve had their dick in you?”

You know it makes sense. Realistically, you either stop sleeping with each other or it potentially develops into something more. But in both circumstances, what were the chances that either of you didn’t get your heart broken? Maybe a part of you was apprehensive of Jungkook finding the “right” person for him one day that has him ending things with you, and while you swear you’d be happy for him, relationships sometimes have a way of distracting people from those already around them. Were you prepared to have someone take him away from you, platonically and whatever it is else that you have with him? Did you really think you could just keep being friends with him, as if nothing ever occurred between you two?

You don’t think Jungkook is bothered worrying about the state of your friendship with him, much less overthinking it like you seem to be. It shouldn’t be a big deal ━ yet why was there still that terrible nagging voice in the back of your mind? Whether or not Hoseok is right, you don’t want to find out. You don’t have feelings for Jungkook anyway.

But your ability to bend at his every will is certainly interesting.

You grab your phone before Hoseok can do any serious damage like unlocking it and responding to Jungkook, clutching it to your chest as you start to cross the living room. The other boy looks at you in bewilderment. “Where are you going now?”

“Where does it look?” You call over your shoulder just before you disappear into the bathroom, and Hoseok deduces all at once that you’re truly a lost cause. “I need to send him a picture of my boobs.”

“He’s totally into you, Y/N.”

Admittedly, there were many mundane but essentially weird things you’ve talked to Jungkook about while having sex. You’ve had many heated debates about everything under the sun from whether or not pineapple on pizza should be illegal to top five betrayals in either movies or animes, to passionate grand philosophical discussions about what exists outside of the universe.

It’s not as if you had been planning on talking about Yukhei to Jungkook when he had invited you over to his apartment late at night after sending your risqué boob picture to him but, like many things in your friendship with Jungkook, it sort of just happened. He had asked you how your day was and you had decided to broach the topic experimentally, though you think deep down you’re doing it on purpose to see if he’d react in any way. What started with you mentioning Hoseok’s adamance and you sort of genuinely asking Jungkook for advice on Yukhei somehow evolved into Jungkook interrogating you on whether or not you’ve hung out with him yet.

“Jungkook. You’re getting off topic,” You admonish him now, as if your own choice of topic is any better when his dick is currently in you.

Jungkook is wedged between your thighs smushed up against your chest, large palms holding you on your ribcage in place beneath him. He’s a comfortable heavy draped over top of you, cock stretching you wide. You can feel his heart hammering against yours and he’s slick with sweat, golden hair clinging to his forehead and in his pretty eyes. You resist the urge to reach out and brush the messy locks away but, again, how would that be any less intimate of an action than what you’re already doing? Another line uncrossed, you suppose.

“How am I off topic?” Jungkook retorts. “You literally just said you can’t tell if he’s into you but he dropped by when you were done class and bought you lunch. You don’t just do that for a girl you don’t care that much about.”

“You buy me lunch, like, every day,” You point out.

“Because you’re my best friend. Of course I care about you,” Jungkook says.

“Ah, Jungkook━” You curse suddenly, grabbing his attention when you shift your weight beneath him. “You’re crushing me. Why’d you stop moving?”

He doesn’t have an answer, if only because he hadn’t even realized he’d stop moving in the first place. Without hesitation, he continues leisurely rutting his hips against yours, grabbing at one of your legs to hook it around his waist. This new angle lets you feel even more of him as he sinks further into you, if that was even still possible, reaching so far into you that you swear it’s like you can feel him in your stomach. Your head lolls back against the pillows, pure euphoria contorting your face so much so to the point that it distracts you entirely from the distant look glazing over Jungkook’s eyes.

“Yukhei definitely wants to bang,” he huffs under his breath.

At once, an exasperated groan fills his ears.

“I can’t believe we’re seriously having this conversation right now,” You roll your eyes, fingers prodding at his sides. “I don’t wanna talk about Yukhei potentially wanting to have sex with me.”

Jungkook’s glad you said it, at least. Though now he’s watching you with hooded eyes as he thrusts into you a little harder, maybe a little intentionally. His indulgent gaze droops to your breasts, admiring the way they bounce beneath him each time his hips make contact with yours. He thinks back earlier in the day to the picture you had sent him which, really, had sparked the mood for the rest of the night.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he whines abruptly. His eyes screw shut and brows furrow together as your walls clench around him. He drops his head to bury his face in your chest, lips momentarily wrapping around one of your nipples as he sucks harshly at the soft flesh. When he speaks next, forehead still resting against your collarbones, his voice is a breathless croak, “Well, do you like him?”

“No,” You moan. “Maybe━ Fuck, Koo━ I don’t know.”

“He’s gonna be at that party Tae’s throwing, isn’t he?” Jungkook tries to focus, but it’s becoming increasingly harder to do so when he’s inching closer and closer to his high. “Shit, ah, Y/N━ Why don’t you try talking to him or something? See how the night goes?”

“He’s nice but I don’t think he’s the one for me,” You admit sheepishly. “I think I’m just gonna end things while I still can, with as little harm as possible.”

“Well, glad that’s settled,” Jungkook mumbles. “Can we please stop talking about Yukhei now?”

You seem to miss the way he clings to you a little tighter, hands flying down to grip at your hips, nails digging crescent moon shapes into your skin. He snaps his hips into yours a little faster this time, your pussy throbbing around him.

“Nngh, Jungkook━”

Your hands fumble to grip at his hair, tugging tightly at the roots and earning a delightful hiss from the boy. Your own mouth drops open in a silent moan and it’s a wonder he doesn’t combust at just how sexy the sight is. He hates how his eyes stay trained on the shape of your lips, the soft plumpness of them. He’s felt them wrapped around his dick plenty of times before but he concedes that it’s probably hardly anywhere near to how it would feel to kiss you. Like actually kiss you, tongue and all.

God, what’d he give just to smother your lips with his.

And, god, he hopes you never find out. He’s positive that thought is far more scandalous alone than anything you’ve ever done together.

You’re writhing beneath him now, hips jutting forward desperately to meet his. “I’m gonna cum, Jungkook━”

“Fuck, yes,” Jungkook growls. “Wanna feel you cream around my cock so bad. Come on, baby━”

In the heat of the moment, you seem to miss the pet name that slurs off his tongue and the sentiment in it. A few more jolting slams of his hips and you’re tumbling over the edge. He has to sputter for air when he feels your pussy wrapping so tightly around him, stuttering in his pace above you if only to watch as you unravel beneath him. Hooded dark eyes glazed over in that perfect fucked out expression he loves so much, teeth biting at your lower lip so hard he wonders if it’ll bruise in the morning.

A sudden thought pops into his head when you’ve settled enough, amongst the blinding pure white of bliss that clouds his thoughts. “Did you get my text by the way? The one I sent last night?”

You gasp for air. The bracelet on your wrist itches at the mention of it, and you’re fortunate you decided to wear it that afternoon before coming to Jungkook’s. “Y-Yeah━”

“Well…?”

“Everything’s fine,” You say this as dismissively as you can. Your core is still vibrating after the harsh impact of your orgasm paired with Jungkook’s swollen length still in you. “I just… I was taking a shower and didn’t want to get it wet. I forgot to put it back on in the morning.”

That’s a lie. You had mostly taken it off as part of an experiment, though it hasn’t answered much. At least Jungkook doesn’t seem to realize that.

“Oh,” Jungkook breathes. A beat of silence passes, before he deadpans cockily, “Wait, you were taking a shower and I wasn’t invited?”

“Oh my god, shut up━” Maybe if he hadn’t just currently driven you to nirvana and back, you’d notice the way the sloppy grin on his face is a simple taunt. But you’re much too distracted to care. Instead, you use your leg that’s still hooked around his waist to gently push and roll him onto his back so that you can straddle his hips. His eyes sparkle mischievously as he watches you waste no time in hurrying to grind against him at an agonizingly steady pace that makes his head spin. “You’re ruining the moment. I’m trying to make you cum.”

A devious cackle rumbles from his chest, albeit a little contented at the same time. Yeah, he definitely likes the sound of that. “Well then, by all means, don’t let me stop you.”

It’s only then that his question comes back into your mind. If he felt the need to ask you again about the bracelet, maybe that meant something after all. At the very least, it means he hadn’t forgotten about it altogether. On the other hand, you wonder how often he had spent thinking, or over-thinking, the issue in the past twenty-four hours, if at all.

Was it wrong to feel some semblance of joy over that potential fact? Probably.

That doesn’t seem to bother you much this time. Not when he’s gazing up at you as if you’re some divine sexy goddess, all his to enjoy. You can’t help yourself; you reach down to brush the sweaty hair from his eyes, perhaps all too gentle of an action for best friends.

And he smiles, maybe a little too softly and maybe a little too ardently if you look close enough.

He smiles.

The thing about your supposed “rules” with your relationship with Jungkook is that there might be a few loose ends that neither you nor Jungkook pay much attention to sometimes.

But that’s neither here nor there.

Mostly, the “no public displays of affection” clause is easily disregardable. It’s typically when you’re too drunk to remember it and a bit needy, craving one another’s touch, but those around you never truly seem to care or even notice because, if you’re lucky, they’re equally as smashed. Sometimes the “no cuddles” clause blurs into a gray area where it’s simply just you and Jungkook post-sex, sprawled out in his bed, not necessarily wrapped up in one another’s arms and cooing sweet nothings to one another but giggling at nothing in particular except one another as you bask in each other’s company and nothing more. You suppose some rules are meant to be broken.

For the most part, Jungkook never seems to question the no kissing rule you were so adamant in insisting. Not until one night in which you’re left wondering where things go so drastically wrong. It starts off as normally as any other day with you and Jungkook can, spent in his apartment binge watching movies. You hadn’t expected that night to switch as suddenly as it does when Jungkook shoots you a text earlier in the day asking if you want to come to his for a night of casual drinking as simply “best friends.” But, as always, one thing seems to lead to another, and you can’t get enough of Jungkook. Maybe it’s in the way he holds you a little tighter, the way he tugs you onto his lap on the sofa in his living room, the way he grips your thighs with a certain type of insatiable desire.

“You know…” he hums. “You drive me insane. In, like, the best way possible.”

Part of you realizes his actions even without him seeming to, and the drunken smile on your face remaining frozen in place, a little dumbfounded. “Jungkook…”

“When I’m with you…” He lifts his stare to look at you, but you have nothing to say. Neither does he. Instead, you’re left grinning at one another and suddenly your face is warm. He leans towards you, his nose nuzzling against the side of your throat. Your hands stay threaded in his hair now, and he swears he feels you secure your grip as if to pull him closer.

You can feel his lips brush faintly against your skin, grazing along your neck to the underside of your jaw. Up, up, up, until━

It’s just as his mouth meets with the corner of yours that you register what he’s doing, even in your clouded state. You turn your head just in time, and he comes to an immediate halt, his lips barely making contact with your cheek instead before he pulls away. He doesn’t move very far but you also don’t push him away just yet. Instead, you shift your head to look at him, still inches apart from him.

“What are you doing?” You ask. He can’t quite tell if you’re appalled or not, an empty expression staring back at him.

“I━ You━” He fumbles over his words, squeezes his eyes shut. He blames it on the alcohol even though his head is swimming with thoughts that seem to only concern you. But then a fierceness seems to stir within him, one that makes his jaw clench as he meets your stunned stare. The question rolls off his tongue without meaning to. “Is this about Yukhei?”

“What?”

“Is that why you weren’t wearing our bracelet the other day?”

The question is so ridiculous, you have to laugh. “What are you going on about?”

But Jungkook doesn’t see what’s so funny and so he tries again, his persistence taking hold. “Is that why you won’t ever let me kiss you?”

You blink. Then, you’re shaking your head at him. Exasperation hangs heavy in your words, shaping in the form of a tired scoff. “You’re not serious.”

You’ve slithered off of his lap before he can even think to stop you ━ but if he had, would you have even stayed? You’re mad, but he doesn’t know why. “No, I wanna know. Because if what we have is already so meaningless, what makes a kiss any different?”

“Jungkook…”

“So I wanna know,” he says, brows unconsciously knitting together. His gaze is searching yours desperately, as if begging for an answer he’ll want to hear. But he knows he’s being an idiot, a small sober part in him makes him realize that. “Humour me. Have you had sex with him yet?”

“Oh my god. I can’t believe that’s what you’re on about.” Suddenly, you’re frowning. Your hardened stare meets the boy’s and the irritation that scrunches at your face makes him wince, but it’s too late for him to take back the damage that he’s done. “Yeah, Jungkook, we fucked in his stupid Toyota that you hate so much and he choked me and I liked it. He did all sorts of dirty things to me. Is that what you want to hear?” The sardonic tone hisses at his ears, but he bites back his words, the sober part in him doing some decent good by shushing him. “No, Jungkook, we didn’t fuck. We haven’t even gone on a date, and I don’t even know if I want to, and you think I’m throwing myself at him.”

“But you wanna.”

“You’re being an idiot,” You admonish. “I’m going home. Talk to me when you’re sober.”

He has just enough time to watch you turn on your heel, march towards his door, when he scrambles to his feet. The weight of his words and actions finally seem to dawn on him, hitting him harshly in the face and in the heart.

“Fuck, wait! Wait━” he gasps.

He chases after you, hand reaching out to press his palm against the door before you can shimmy it open. He’s fortunate when you turn to look at him, though your arms are folded impatiently over your chest.

“You’re right. I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad,” he promises earnestly. Then, he lets out a frustrated groan. “I just… What if we… Shit, what if we stop for right now? Y’know… Hooking up. Whatever this is.”

He gestures vaguely between the two of you with his hands, a wearied look plastering his face.

You hate to admit how his words seem to affect you. They bite at the air, leave you breathless as you gawk at him, but the harsh realization of it all is that you were never his to have and he was never yours. Hoseok had been right when he said these things were bound to come to an end ━ so why did it seem to hurt you so much?

A beat of prolonged silence passes between the two of you. Jungkook runs a hand through his chaotic blonde hair, digging the heel of his palm into his temple as if to rid himself of a headache he’s no doubt sporting. Maybe you’re waiting for a better explanation, but he gives none, and you don’t feel as if you have the right to ask why. He’s not your boyfriend, for god’s sake. It’s not like he’s breaking your heart.

Instead, you take a deep breath and say, “Okay.”

“Okay.” It’s all that he says in return.

So then why does it feel like he is?

When Jungkook had promised that if your fling with him ended you would go back to being untainted best friends, he was apparently lying.

A part of you can’t believe the sheer nerve of him to ghost you in his traditional fuckboy ways, and yet he does. You suppose not entirely, at the very least. Part of it ends up with you being even more vexed by his sudden shift in emotion, and the tangible tension that rises between the two of you should have been dealt with properly, yet neither of you do anything about it, leaving your friendship stagnant and stale for a week. After all, how are you really supposed to go back to “just friends” when you’ve seen his dick one too many times?

You refrain from telling Hoseok, if only so you don’t have to hear him tell you he told you so ━ but you also decide to give Yukhei that one chance, and so you think Hoseok wouldn’t mind so much anyway.

Admittedly, when Yukhei asks to hang with you at Taehyung’s eventual party, you aren’t entirely too keen, but you accept it if only because you heard Jungkook will be there too. For the majority of the night, you don’t see the boy, and you spend the hours cozying up with Yukhei in a conversation that dulls you. As it would appear, it seems to bore Yukhei too, but you only notice that when he starts touching you on your waist and the small of your back. There’s a moment where he leans his head close enough to yours that you realize he’s trying to kiss you, resulting in an awkward encounter in which you push him away, palms on his chest.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. The answer is obvious enough to you, but you don’t think you should tell him for his own dignity. That, instead, all you can imagine is Jungkook in his place. “Should we get out of here?”

“Y/N. Can I talk to you?”

You’re both fortunate yet horrified when you hear Jungkook’s voice. He’s standing just behind you, his own stare devoid of any emotion, though his brows furrow and his jaw clenches in a signature Jungkook manner that you know means he’s pissed. He hardly acknowledges Yukhei, nodding in his general direction. You don’t remember if you leave Yukhei there or if he leaves, or if Jungkook even gives a poor attempt of an excuse to the boy, but you’ve not so much as uttered a single word or let out an exhalation of air, when Jungkook ultimately pulls you off to the side where it’s just you and him once more.

“I’m not sucking your dick in Tae’s grimy bathroom, if that’s what you want,” You scowl once Yukhei is out of earshot. “You’ve lost the privilege that is my mouth.”

“That’s not━” Jungkook shakes his head, exasperated. “That’s not what I want. I just━ I’ll take you home. Please?”

You know the offer is much more than him simply walking you the route to your dorm, which you already know like the back of your hand. Yet, you don’t argue. Truthfully, it’s a relief when Jungkook lugs you out of the party. The entire venture back to your apartment is treacherous, in the way that you’re left sobering up enough to the point that your dizzying thoughts become more coherent. Hoseok is gone for the weekend at least, spending the days with his fiance, so you don’t have to worry about humiliating yourself in front of your roommate when it comes to Jungkook.

You’ve barely made it through your front door when you’re grumbling aloud, “What do you want, Jungkook?”

“I wanna talk,” he says firmly. “About us. About Yukhei.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.” But that’s a lie. Talking to Jungkook, even despite masquerading your annoyance for him, is a blessing in disguise. You’ve missed the idiot, and hearing his voice. “Besides, you told me to give him a chance.”

“And you said you didn’t want to.”

“Maybe I changed my mind.”

“Yeah, you sure seemed like you loved it when he was trying to shove his tongue down your throat,” Jungkook retorts bitterly. “C’mon, Y/N. We both know that’s a lie.”

“You know, you’ve been a real dick lately.”

A sliver of a smirk tugs at Jungkook’s face. “I thought you love dick.”

Clearly, his poor attempt at a joke doesn’t land well with you. “Why do you even care so much if Yukhei and I get together? Stop acting so high and mighty and moral, Jungkook. It’s not like you’re some virgin saint. How many times have I heard you talk about all those girls you’ve fucked? And what was I? Just another notch in your belt this whole time?”

“What?” Jungkook gasps now, as if disbelieving you would ever think such a thing. “No! You’re not just another notch. I would never even think about you that way. And I haven’t had sex with anyone else but you this whole time and I easily could have.”

“Wow! Such a martyr,” You remark dryly. When you speak next, you meet his stare with your own crestfallen gaze. “I just want my best friend back.” Your words hurt him more than you think, but he can’t say he doesn’t deserve it. “You’re the one who tried to kiss me, then suggested we stop whatever it is we’re doing━”

Jungkook flinches. “I know.”

“Then you ignore me for days even though you promised nothing would change━”

“I know,” he says desperately. He closes the distance between the two of you, yearning to reach out and touch you. Instead, he clamps his eyes shut, trying with all his might to focus when the room feels like it’s spinning.

“And then you get mad when Yukhei tries to make a move. It’s like you’re jealous or something!”

“I am.” He can’t take it anymore. The words tumble from his lips in a rush that he hardly bothers to bite back.

“Why?”

“Because━ Because━” He struggles to form his thoughts into words, stumbling over his sentence. Fuck, he’s never like this. Even you can tell. He grits his teeth next. “I lean in to kiss you and you look at me as if I’m out of my mind. I just don’t get it. You don’t want me to kiss you but you let me put my dick in your ass.”

The taut line of your lip quivers as you break. “That was one time and you didn’t even get all the way in!”

“Y/N.” Jungkook hums now. He’s gazing at you a little softly, reaching out to place his hands on your waist. “Look, I know I’ve been an idiot. But lately, when I touch you, I fucking feel so alive and the thought of Yukhei doing anything with you when it isn’t me, who should be with you, makes me want to vomit. And when I wake up in the morning alone, I only want you next to me. And I can’t be the only one feeling that way. If I am, tell me. Right now. Please. I just wanna know why you won’t ever let me kiss you, but you let me do all sorts of things with you. Am I really that repulsive?”

Another moment of silence stifles the room. Jungkook is so close to you now, you can’t help yourself. You reach up to tug at the collar of his shirt, fingers twisting in the material as you lean your forehead out of frustration against his shoulder and he instinctively lets his arms slither around your waist, holding you to him. Then━

“No.”

“What?”

“I only made the rule because I don’t want you to kiss me unless you mean it,” You murmur into his chest. “Like really, really mean it. Like I’m more than just a notch in your belt. Because I want to kiss you so badly, and I’m already in love with you but then I’ll really be in love with you and I don’t want to get my heart broken.”

The anticipation kills you, awaiting his response. You refuse to lift your head, until you hear him grumble, “You’re so fucking stupid.”

“Me?”

The retort is filled with your typical jestering hostility as you finally look at him. But just as you do so, Jungkook’s reaching out to grasp at your face, rough hands all soft and gentle as they cradle your cheeks, guiding you towards him and smoothing his lips over yours until you melt like putty in his hands.

Kissing Jungkook, you deduce at once, is not at all how you imagined it.

It’s everything and more. You’ve felt his mouth on you before but in much different circumstances. Between your legs, on your throat, down past the valley of your breasts ━ and each kiss then had been feral, sloppy, rough. Now, it’s sweet and tender, the feeling of his lips as soft as how he makes your heart feel. And the butterflies━ god, the butterflies.

Impatient hands tug and pull at one another until you’ve both stumbled into your room and onto your bed. He’s clambered over top of you, lips struggling to not part throughout the whole ordeal, until he’s wedged himself between your thighs.

Only then does Jungkook part from you just enough in the next moment, lips brushing against yours, as he whispers ardently, “I mean it.”

Then he’s kissing the corner of your lips down to the underside of your jaw, his mouth grazing along your skin in a feathery touch. His hands help you shed your shirt, and the bra underneath. “I mean it when I kiss you here.”

Then he drops his head to your neck, kissing at the base of your throat, before nipping at it lightly. “And here.”

Your hands come to thread in his hair, tugging at the roots. He burrows his face lastly in your chest, snatching the nipple of one of your breasts between his teeth. “Here…”

You’re so soft and supple beneath his hands, all his to love and explore.

“I want you, all of you,” he mumbles. “Only you.”

“Oh, Koo…”

A pretty moan tumbles from your mouth, and he could nearly cry. He had surely thought you were far past the point of enraged, far past the point of pensive words shaped in a heartfelt apology to bring you back to him. But then hearing you rasp his name ━ the little cute nickname that only you call him ━ makes him so goddamn remorseful.

He smothers your lips with his once more, groaning into your mouth. “I’m such a fucking dick. I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t say that,” You whine.

“I’m sorry,” he laments. He bites at your lower lip, suckling against it. “Please let me make it up to you.”

“You already have.”

“But I’ve been such a shitty friend,” he groans. It’s hard to focus when he’s pressing his hips against yours, the forming bulge in his pants straining against the inside of your thigh. “I should’ve known when to stop. I shouldn’t have even suggested the whole thing in the first place, because then I wouldn’t have messed us all up.”

“Jungkook,” Your grip tightens in his hair. “Jungkook━ I want you so bad. Just wanna be yours.”

“Yeah?” His breath is warm as it fans against your neck. You rub your core eagerly against him, throbbing pussy so close to making contact with his dick.

“Yeah,” You mewl.

“What do you want from me?”

“You. Wanna feel your dick in me, please,” Your fingers tug at the top of his jeans, prodding at the muscles on his abdomen. “In my mouth. Can make you feel better, Koo, I promise. Just wanna be your good girl.”

“Mmm, I like the sound of that.”

He lets you push him until he’s on his back and you’re straddling his hips. Your limbs entangle with his as you shed the rest of your clothes, your own hands wandering up and down the front of his body after he’s tossed his shirt onto the floor. Then he watches as you shimmy your way down his body. You’re so zealous in pleasing him, wrapping your hand around the base of his dick, head angry and red, dribbling pearly beads of precum down the shaft and over the bulging vein that lines it. You run your thumb over the tip and down, spreading the sticky fluid over him. He grunts in response, nearly jolting at your touch, as his head drops back against his shoulders.

“Oh, fuck,” he growls.

You pump him slowly, taking you time as your closed fist glides up and down his length. He shudders each time your hand reaches the base, and becomes so carried away with your leisure teasing that his eyes are screwed shut and misses the way you dip down to kiss at the tip of his cock. His eyes immediately flutter open, a flustered expression painting his face. You lap again at the head, saltiness coating your tongue, and you let out a simpering moan that has him quivering. And when you wrap your mouth entirely around his cock, sinking down along his length, he swears he’s about to fall apart. Your eyes flicker upward to meet him and the moment they lock, so sexy and dark, he has to look away for fear of busting right then and there. He reclines back against the bed once more, his hand flying out to grab at your hair.

“You’re so good to me, baby,” he rasps.

He can feel the curve of your lips against his cock as you suck him off. You do so well, too. Puffing your cheeks out, taking as much of him as you can until it feels as if he’s hitting the back of your throat. Then, you’ll suck at the tip of his cock, tongue swirling rapidly around, as your fist rubs his shaft. It’s a beautiful mix, one that inches him closer and closer to his high, and each time you switch he has to hold it together to not let go so soon. He wants to enjoy it, needs to bask in it. Your pretty mouth doing such sinful things, making him feel as if he were in heaven.

“Shit━” His hips jut forward to meet with your mouth, accidentally hitting the back of your throat without warning. You gag a little, but don’t pull away, and when he apologizes to you hastily, you only moan in response. A thought pops into his head that has him beckon aloud, “Will you be a good girl and let me fuck your mouth? Huh, baby?”

You hum in approval, eyes shimmering with glee.

So, he plants both hands in your hair, grabs at the sides of your head, and as you hollow out your cheeks, he bucks into your mouth. He does it again and again, listening to your crescendoing mewls of delight, forming a sticky mess of drool and cum that spills onto your chin.

“God, you’re so good,” Jungkook grunts. He’s a complete wreck, eyes screwing shut, blonde tresses spilling into his lashes. The muscles in his abdomen twitch with each sharp inhale of air he takes, so mesmerized by the shape of your pretty mouth around his dick, like you were made for him. “Such a good girl, huh?”

He fucks himself into your mouth roughly, frantically. Tears start to prick at your eyes from holding your breath, yet you keep yourself together just a little longer for him, lashes fluttering shut tightly.

“All mine too,” Jungkook hisses. “Wouldn’t let Yukhei do this to you, would you? Fuck, I’m━”

With your head left immobile stuck in his grasp, you hum in disapproval instead. You know he’s close when you start to hear him panting breathily. When he cums, it’s with a fractured whine and in short hot bursts onto your tongue and down your throat. You swallow as much as you can and, when he parts from you with a resonating lewd pop, you wipe away with your knuckles at the rest of his cum leaking out of the corner of your mouth and onto your chin. Dark hooded eyes meet with yours, a mischievous glint captivating them. You crawl over to him, straddling his hips once more, chasing his mouth with yours. Your own lips are so wet, coated in saliva and cum, bruised plump, but yet you’re smiling so innocently past the way he can taste himself on his tongue.

A dazed thought pops into your head that has you murmuring wistfully against him, “Say it again. I like hearing you call me baby.”

“Hmm? What about when I call you my good girl?” Jungkook nips at your lips. He grasps at your waist, flipping you over until you’re on your back beneath him. “You treat me so well, baby; you’re my only girl, you know that.”

A contented sigh sounds from you as you rut your hips in thinning desperation to meet his, so close to rubbing against his dick nestled against his thigh. He licks at his fingers hastily, reaching between the two of you to press against your clit, rubbing leisurely at the soft bundle of nerves. He’s learned how to navigate your body after months of supposed emotionless fucking, but now? Now, he felt as if his heart may just burst through his chest. Every reaction you make to his every touch ━ the needy plea to have him make you his, call you baby ━ makes him want to see more, and more.

“Am I?” You ask hoarsely. He grasps at his dick, guiding his tip to your core, so slick and wet, glistening with your own arousal. As he pushes himself in with a hiss, he watches as you contort beneath him. “Nnngh, Jungkook━”

“Fuuck,” he groans. He sinks into you, spreading your thighs further and further apart, until his hips make contact with yours. His mouth attacks yours with a feverish passion, the rumble of his moans and your whimpers muffling against one another. Then, he remembers to answer your awaiting question, barely audible between the way his tongue lavs at yours. “You are. I’m so fucking in love with you. But I don’t deserve you.”

Your hands tug impatiently at his hair. “Stop saying that.”

“But it’s true,” he hums. He’s quick to start rutting at your hips in a steady yet agonizing pace, dick burrowing into your pussy as your walls throb and shake. He can’t help but watch, mesmerized as always by the way his length slips past your folds and disappears into you. Again, and again, and again, so lewdly destroying your pretty cunt. “Just want Yukhei to touch you all over instead, don’t you?”

“No,” You croak.

You spread your thighs instinctively wider apart, allowing him to sink even further into you until it feels as if he’s hitting you so far in your stomach. Each roll of his hips is punctuated by the crude noise of skin against skin, sending you spiralling.

“Want him to do all sorts of dirty things to you, huh?”

“N-No. Fuck, Jungkook━ Harder, please━”

“That’s what you said,” Jungkook retorts. Still, he listens to your pleas, snapping his hips into yours roughly enough to send you jolting back on the bed. His hands start to roam your body, pinching at your hips, then grasping ferociously at one of your breasts. “Want him to fuck you in his car, right?” His palm feels like fire as it slides up past your collarbones to your throat. “Want him to choke you.”

His hand comes to wrap around the underside of your jaw on your throat, thumb and index finger pressing against the pressure points there. He squeezes, though with barely any force, just enough to feel your rapid pulse beneath his digits in a way that makes you so suddenly hyper aware of everything he’s doing to you. Cock stretching you wide, palm heavy around your throat, mouth folding over yours. So caught up in the overwhelming sensations you’re feeling, you can’t tell if he’s genuinely upset with himself, though you suspect part of him is. You can sense it in the way he clings to you a little tighter, can see it laced within his dazzling pupils.

Jungkook huffs, hair flopping into his eyes as he grits his teeth and ruts his hips faster into you if only to see more of your pretty little reactions. Your jaw unhinges at the feeling, head falling back onto the pillows. “He could probably treat you nicer too.”

You shake your head wildly, fingers digging into the skin on his shoulders. “Just want you, Koo.”

“Still?” he asks. His grip on your neck fastens a little more, pure euphoria riddling all your senses and making you writhe beneath him. “God, you’re such a dumb little slut, aren’t you?”

You nod in your groggy exhaustion, the familiar burn coiling in your stomach, making your toes curl.

Jungkook feels your own high approach. Your walls are clenched so tightly around him, he has to sputter for air. “Could he make you feel like this?”

“No, Koo,” You whine. “Only you.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook growls. “Good girl. Gonna cum around my dick like the good little slut you are?”

Your hips ricochet upwards to meet his, relentless pounding into your core. “Please, please━”

Jungkook quickens his pace until you’ve deteriorated into absolute shambles, whimpering his name after each thrust. You tumble towards your high, cuming around his length as he burrows it into you again and again, and all he can think is mine, mine, mine. As you unravel beneath him, he slides his hand off of your throat and slithers it underneath you and around your waist, hoisting you slightly enough off the bed so that he can reach his own orgasm. He’s a little more frantic now, sloppy and restless as he pummels into you.

“Shit, baby━” he cries out. “Oh, fuck, you’re so good━”

As you come down from your high enough, you somehow manage to murmur drowsily, “Cum in me, Koo. Wanna feel it.”

You grab at his face, pulling him down to catch his lips on yours, and the thought is so tempting he can’t refuse. He gets so lost in your lips, cuming with one final slam of his hips into yours and a chorus of curses mingling with your name in whimpers. He rides out both of your highs with a few half-hearted thrusts, more concerned with kissing you in useless open-mouthed kisses as your own mouth parts with one last weary moan while he fills you up.

When he’s spent, he collapses against your chest, and you collapse onto the bed. It’s quiet long enough for the both of you to calm the shrill beat of your hearts when you feel Jungkook stir, moving to part from you, pulling his dick from your swollen pussy and planting a lingering peck on your cheek. He disappears momentarily but returns a few seconds later, towel in hand which he uses to wipe at your core now leaking with his cum and your heart croons at all his tender touches.

It makes you realize all at once that, god, yes, you’re so in love with your idiot best friend and he’s so in love with you.

“Jungkook.”

He turns to look at you, an adoring smile dancing upon his lips when he sees your own radiant beaming face. You beckon him over and he relents, letting you pull him into your arms. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck as he wraps his own arms around you to tug you closer to his side. As your fingers come to rake through his sweaty hair, he cranes his neck to follow your hand and hear him coo against your neck, “That feels so good.”

A sudden thought crosses your mind that has you smirking smally to yourself. “Are we… Are we cuddling? Jungkook, I thought you didn’t like cuddling. Said it was, and I quote, sentimental bullshit.”

“I never liked it because it wasn’t with you. Didn’t wanna waste my time on someone that wasn’t you,” Jungkook hums, matter-of-fact. You can tell he’s a little embarrassed at the way you so casually taunt him about such an obvious fact, though he’s fortunate you can’t see him smiling like a complete fool. “And I wanna do all that sentimental bullshit with only you. Now, shush━” He scolds you playfully. “M’so tired and I just wanna hold you tight.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Your heart leaps in your chest. “Just promise me one thing?”

It’s only then that he lifts his sleepy gaze to find yours, apprehensive of any potentially looming severity in your words. “Anything.”

Instead, all he can find is the way you trace your finger along the details of his face, from his nose, to his cheekbones, down to the freckle under his lip with the hand that sports your friendship bracelet. “In the morning, when we wake up, you’ll still be here to hold me tight. And every other morning after that.”

His smile widens even more, if that was even possible. “Wouldn’t want it any other way. But━”

“But?”

“On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

His eyes sparkle cheekily. “Kiss me.”

So, you do, again and again and again; and Jungkook thinks, yeah, he certainly can get used to this.

It takes you a month to cave in to Jungkook’s incessant pleas to fuck you to his sex playlist. You do it mostly to humour him, though part of you is a little bit intrigued at the thought.

Stowed away in his room, he eats you out to the choruses of sultry The Weeknd and raunchy Ariana Grande songs, fucks you to the likes of the Neighbourhood and Kim Petras while you’re on all fours, and you’re only half-paying attention to the music until you hear it. Admittedly, you almost completely miss it but you blame Jungkook and the way he’s making you currently feel, sprawled out beneath him, chests pressed flush against one another in a sweaty, sticky mess, breathy and glorious moans of your name filling your ears when━

“I had no choice but to hear you. You stated your case time and again━”

The dulcet chime of Alanis Morissette thrums about the room, a complete and utter shift in contrast in the atmosphere that has you immediately pausing.

“Jungkook.” But he knows what you set out to say even before you do, judging by the tone in your voice and the stifling smirk on his face. You gawk at him, biting at your lip to hide your laughter but you fail miserably. “You weren’t joking?”

He shrugs innocently, leaving you just as dumbfounded as you were two seconds ago. Instead, he says, “Gotta do what I promised then, don’t I?”

You quirk a brow. “What was that exactly?”

“Gotta give you the best orgasm of your life.”

“If you can do that to cheesy 90s pop, I’ll have your actual babies, Jungkook.” The effort is endearing and impressive, to say the least.

A roll of your eyes is met with a taunting roll of his hips into yours that wipes the jest off your face immediately. He grins like a madman, uttering a little stupidly, and a little ardently, “Say no more.”

Because, all things considered and joking aside, he wants it with you ━ the dazed daydreamy talk of a future together and kids, friendship bracelets, and cuddles in the morning. Because you mean the world to him and more. Because you’re his best friend, and he’s so madly in love with you.

Because he wants it all with you.

⟶ All rights reserved to © jungkxook. I do not allow reposting, translating, or any sort of modifying and reuploading of my work.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

[fandom-monium]

For the Holidays - Part 2

Summary: In which Spencer doesn’t want to go to his high school reunion, but you tagging along changes things. “It’ll be nice... having a friend there.”

WC: 1.8k

Tags/Warnings: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, fake-dating trope, pining (so much pining), insecure and in-denial Spencer, light cursing, (tbh with all the shit that happens in CM they should be cussing way more)

Spencer doesn’t text you. But he’s tried.

First thing he got home, he tossed his bag aside and ripped off his blazer before he threw himself on the couch, digging through his pockets for his phone. Screw reading, taxes, dinner. There are more important things at stake here.

But he’s been sitting there for an hour, glaring at the empty text box with disdain, willing for words to appear.

No such luck.

Spencer writes essays and academic journals in an hour but formulating a simple text? He curses the universe for only making him academically gifted.

He runs a hand through his hair. Maybe he should call? No, you said text. And he doesn’t trust himself enough to have a verbal conversation with you. He will get tongue-tied.

Shit, what does he even say?

It’s not entirely his fault, alright? He’s never been put in a position like this before, except when he goes undercover. And even then everything is planned for him with little contribution on his part⎼he makes small edits to better fit the profiles but that’s about it. All he has to do is scan the file once and in seconds he has his fake identity, his fake backstory, and whatever fake details make up his fake life.

But this. This is different. He has to be brave because it’s you, and he has to chill out because this is supposed to be fake, he reminds himself. Both are tasks within themselves. And yeah, he’s a genius but as Albert Einstein once said, knowledge has its limits.

Shit, his thoughts are so jumbled he can’t even quote properly. This is all your fault.

You.

He still has to text you.

Spencer groans and flops on the couch, the phone clattering to the floor. He doesn’t bother, laying there until there’s an imprint of his butt in the cushions. He stares at the ceiling.

He remembers that you were the one to say yes. He hadn’t directly asked you but you agreed anyway, which means you are willing to spend time with him. Which means you like him (enough). Which means you are friends, and friends help friends out when they are in trouble.

Like needing a fake date.

He rolls onto his stomach, lips pursed as he stares over the edge of the couch. His phone glints in the lamp light.

Just friends helping each other out. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Spencer takes a deep breath and picks up the phone.

He can do this.

⎼

He can’t do this.

“I’m so excited,” Next to Spencer, you nestle into the seat and adjust the fuzzy blanket over your lap, eyes gleaming. “It’ll be nice to see where you grew up.”

Spencer only offers you a tight smile. His eyes dart about as the other passengers settle in, switching seats and fiddling luggage into the overhead compartments. Some of them already requesting for airplane food. Who in their right mind actually wants airplane food?

Spencer really wants to be as excited as you, and he is; he finally gets to spend some time with you outside of work, without the rest of the team hovering (waiting for one of you to make a damn move). It’s almost nice.

If only he can enjoy himself.

His knee bounces nonstop. Against the armrest his fingers tap a rhythm matching the thrum of his heart. And his hair is even more wild having run his hands through it repeatedly before meeting up with you.

He isn’t used to this, being alone with you. Sure, you partner up at work, in cases⎼hell, you've even accompanied each other to a few events. But those were as friends.

Technically, you’re his date. His romantic partner.

Spencer’s never let himself delve deep into his fantasies; he’s imagined (more times than he’d like to admit) taking you on dates to your favorite places, you in his arms, him in your arms⎼you know, minus the imminent danger. All the sweet things that couples do. But they always seemed out of reach. So he’d cut them off, squash the ideas before they went any further. False hope only hurts if you give in.

But now you’re on a plane, rocking in your seat as you hum to yourself, genuinely thrilled at the prospect of seeing his hometown.

This is more than he’s ever imagined. He feels like his heart’s about to burst.

Someone needs to call the bomb squad, real quick.

“Reid.”

"Hm?"

"Are you alright?" You're looking at him, voice drenched in so much concern his stomach twists. He made you worry. He feels guilty.

“Yeah-uh-” He clears his throat, attempting a smile. It’s a sad parody of the real thing. ”I'm fine.“

You raise an eyebrow and scoff, "Okay, I think I know why you're being weird. At least, weirder than usual."

Spencer’s heart drops. He leans back as you lean across your shared armrest, catching the sympathy in your eyes. He stiffens, bracing himself for the rejection. He should have known sooner or later you’d notice his not-so-friendly affections towards you. Of course you did, he isn’t exactly subtle; all the lunches, the museum tours, the stars in his eyes when you wrestle down unsubs⎼

"You’re nervous about seeing your old classmates again."

⎼Or, he’s much better at hiding it than he thought.

Spencer can only watch in awe as you continue, “And it’s totally natural. I mean, I haven’t been to a reunion, but I’d feel weird too if I got to see my classmates after all these years. But have no fear, (Your Name) is here.” You cringe, suddenly abashed. “Unless I’m completely off the mark and now you regret bringing me along. Oh no, that’s it, isn’t? You’re uncomfortable with the whole couples act.”

Spencer shakes his head, and for the first time since take off, he chuckles, “What? No, I’m happy that you’re here. And I couldn't think of anyone better to play my partner.” A relieved smile from you and he shrugs, feigning nonchalance. He fiddles with his sleeve. “But yeah, you got me. I am nervous.”

Which isn’t exactly a lie. You're here, next to him. That's more than enough reason to be.

If he had to be honest, between you and organizing the trip, he almost forgot about the reunion. Then again, he never liked reflecting on his high school years. For obvious reasons.

But your perception is a bucket of ice water over his head. Now he’s wide awake.

You’re doing this because you’re friends. You just want to help.

Friendship never hurt so much.

“I didn’t mention it before, but I’m sure you’re aware I wasn’t exactly the most popular kid in school, being 6 years younger and all,” Spencer swallows the ache. You nod in understanding.

Bright, brown eyes meet yours. He bites his lip. “So, I appreciate you coming with me. It’ll be nice... having a friend there.”

A split second.

Spencer glances away as he says 'friend'. The word leaves such a bittersweet taste he has to hold back a grimace, look anywhere else but you. The word just doesn’t sit right with him.

If he hadn’t looked away, he would have caught the way your smile dropped.

You nearly forgot, though you’re on holiday, this is a mission of sorts. This isn’t about you or how you feel. This is about Spencer. You berate yourself, remembering you're not a teenager anymore; you're a fucking adult and mature adults don't squee at their coworkers.

No matter how cute and adorable they are.

“Of course,” You plaster on a smile and finger the edge of your blanket, unintentionally mirroring him. "Your welcome."

Spencer gives you that white-person smile you love so much. You have to bite back a laugh.

To distract yourself, you pull out your phone and open the Chess app, holding it out to him. "Now, how about that rematch?"

Spencer's face lights up like a Christmas tree.

And as you immerse yourselves into another close match, you feel your confidence grow with every move, chuckling as Reid grumbles about you cheating (you’re not, he’s just a sore loser). You’re an FBI agent, for fuck’s sake. You played spouse and romantic partners for weeks, months. A weekend is nothing.

You can manage playing pretend with a coworker. Just operate like this is any other undercover assignment.

You can pretend you’re in love with Spencer Reid. You can handle it.

You can handle it.

⎼

You can’t handle it.

As one would expect, it’s hard to not fall in love with Spencer Reid. Just as it’s hard not to show it.

It feels like only yesterday the lanky man quite literally stumbled his way into your world and you decided, ‘Him. I will protect him with my life.’ And while you’d totally do that for anyone on the team, with Reid, it hits different.

After you landed in Las Vegas, you had a couple hours to kill before the reunion started, and as the good friend and partner you are, you suggested he show you all the places he frequented when he was little. For research, of course. After all, you’re playing his partner, so the more you know the better.

It’s definitely not because you’re invested in his life. Because that would be unprofessional.

(The way he beamed at you was totally worth it though.)

Then one step in the direction of his favorite eatery and he slipped on a patch of ice. You caught him in time, but the way he looked at you, brown eyes wide and filled with awe, made you feel things you shouldn't feel for a coworker.

It only snowballed from there. Everything about him is just so… endearing.

But you’re at your limit.

Love and affection threatens to spill out of you. Your hands flex in your coat pockets, itching to grab Spencer’s pretty face. Even your chest aches from your heart having swollen twice its size. You feel like you’re about to explode.

This might be the most difficult mission you’ve ever worked.

But this is it, you realize as you stand in front of the closed auditorium doors. This is the final lap. Where everything you’ve practiced really matters. You just have to keep up the charade for a few hours, then you won’t have to struggle to fight back the hearts in your eyes.

Although, your clothes fit tighter than you remember and you’re trembling. Why the fuck are you trembling?

Next to you Spencer eyes the double doors, almost like he’s daunted by them.

Multi-colored lights filter into the dark hallway, silhouettes flickering and shifting from the crack under the door as cheery holiday music faintly streams from behind them, accompanied by shouts and laughter. From his old classmates. Who are most likely making jokes at his expense.

Spencer already wants to go home.

“Ready, Doc?” As if sensing his hesitation, you offer a smile and an arm to him. Your eyes gleam with resolve. It’s more than enough for the both of you.

You can do this.

A deep breath, he slips his arm into yours. “Yep.”

He can do this.

Together, you open the doors.

AN: 2/4?? 

note: don’t expect part 3 to come out as quick. it’ll contain panic/anxiety descriptions and id like to take my time to write it best :))) i hope you enjoyed the last bit of happiness for a while :))))

also i apologize that i havent gotten to all the requests!! the ones posted on my masterlist are the ones currently being dealt with, but i’ll get through them eventually thx for the patience :D

i remember seeing a post ab Hotch x Prentiss and I didn’t get it but watching CM over again 

i get it i so get it. when theyve both gone to each other’s homes? *tears up*

and my hate for seaver has been reinforced :)))))

[bladekindeyewear]

Bloggin’ thru new Homestuck^2 bonus, The Influencers part 2.  Kinda got my gears ground during part 1, but that largely wasn’t this sideplot’s fault, so I should still be able to enjoy it.

Reminder, bonus update blogging is always light on detail because I don’t wanna spoil all the paid content, but I’ll give the gist of my reactions and go into anything plot or character related that helps understand the main story, as well as giving you a real top-down view of “what happens” so you know what it’s about and whether or not to invest in looking yourself.  (And I don’t necessarily have to give you anything that isn’t main-plot-relevant.)

So where are they going to follow the main party?  They shouldn’t need to record the funeral I’d assume, because that already would have been televised (and awful for Jane’s PR)...  *click*

9/28/2020 - The Influencers, Part 2

TEACHER: Time’s a-ticking. TEACHER: The next plot point is yours to change, if you want it. Don’t you feel it calling to you?

Yeah, just hanging a lampshade on this whole parallel sideplot I guess.

> (==>)

Whatever it is, Imode feels it. A tiny string of relevance spooling out from their belly. They want to follow it.

That’s pretty Lighty and/or Seery.  I’ve used that terminology to describe the pull of Light and its “relevance” connotations even since the only fanfic I’ve ever written, back in 2011 during Homestuck’s run, and it’s obvious enough terminology that I think Rose later mentioned it somewhere like in the Epilogues.  Are these three kids perhaps going to get a fourth, and become their own session by the end of this like Harry, Vrissy, Tavros and Yiffy might?

They can’t stop picturing their friend, Harry Anderson, arrested or tortured or worse. They’re not sure what there is to be done to stop this chain of events, but they’re sure as shit gonna find out.

(”They” is almost certainly referring to Imode here, not all three, since Imode uses they/them.)

Alright, self-aggrandizing used for good.  Show off the sort of thing that Vriska could have accomplished if she actually used her talents for her team for once.  (Besides, like, the similar thing she did just recently by making a scene.)

> (==>)

Imode is the first to choose pursuing this path over bootlicking, and the others are sure to follow.

> (==>)

Yup, Avril and Silas follow.  (Had to be reminded of ALL of their names, it’s been months since their single named appearance.)

> (==>)

Crockercopters overhead but none taking note yet, just ominous setdressing

> (==>)

IMODE: lemme take a ⏱️ to 😮‍💨 before we figure out where to go next. AVRIL: wait don't you know? IMODE: Huh? AVRIL: we were following YOU this whole time.

Oh, that answers the first question I asked.  They have NO clue where they’re going.  Let’s see if they luck out and find the clock tower.

IMODE: You 👂 what he said about the next step 📞 to us, same as i did. Don't you feel it pulling at you?

Literal pull? Powers? Future player?  --All baseless speculation of course.

SILAS: Woah are you seein’ this.

Vriska’s probably putting on her very public display now.  (This is a bonus so I’m skipping lots of banter and arguing.)

> (==>)

Oh, they just saw John flying up to the clock tower in his outfit.  And catching sight of him fly is rare celebrity gossip stuff so of course it’d stand out to them, apparently.  (Only one of them is athletic apparently, the other two are groaning at the prospect of more running.)

> (==>)

Avril always enjoys running, but there’s something else thumping along to the rhythm of the thuds of his feet and beat of his heart. He’d thought Imode was nuts for feeling it just a minute prior, but now he’s realized he isn’t deadweight, that he hasn’t fucked up someone’s life irrevocably, and it pushes him faster and faster as he tears ass toward the belltower.

(Did we know Avril was he/him before this?  Probably but if so I forgot.)

Okay, since we’re getting glimpses into each of their headspaces narratively that BOTH have had some oblique aspect references, I have to at least OPERATE on a guessy assumption that there’s a sort of classpect-for-each-of-them thing going here.

I’ve quoted both those whole paragraphs here... so what do I see?  This is going to be a bit tougher because I don’t care as much to remember these characters...

Imode had some Lighty-or-Seery language, and then could not stop picturing bad things happening to Harry, wanting to avert that chain of events.  So something of a Seer or Mage would make sense.  But given how easily Lighty stuff and the Understanding classes (or at least what we think those are) can be conflated, Mage of Light seems a bit of a premature jump.  Heck, I’m only saying Mage because a Seer of Light already occupies a starring role, and because her first act on that feeling was to jump after it herself and tell the others:

IMODE: Stay here and 👢👅 your way into fame if that's what you really want. IMODE: I’m ✈️. Follow me if you’re not 🐔💩.

--leading by example rather than directing the others into battle.  Only half-caring if they followed, willing to pursue it herself if necessary.  So, potentially more “Active”.

As for Avril... the word “heart” is mentioned there, sure, but the full context is “there’s something else thumping along to the rhythm of the thuds of his feet and beat of his heart”.  I’m inclined to think that the rhythm/beat references, especially the even footsteps and heartbeats hitting like a metronome, might be more tied to Time?  But if so, I don’t see anything class-related.  (Could also be Blood, and him thinking of what he owes in the last sentences could be reinforcing that?  Big question marks for now.)

> (==>)

Door to the belltower’s locked.  The kids figure John’s forgotten that his son can’t fly.

AVRIL: this is it, this is the thing we can help with! #feelinit #vibes IMODE: OK I'm excited that you believe me now, but what are you gonna even do? IMODE: use your big all-star 💪 to break down the 🚪?

--so they think they can “resolve a missing plot point” by getting the way into the clock tower open?  Is this going to be a theme or running joke of the Influencers sideplot, showing plotholes resolved in bonus content like how we finally saw how Gamzee’s body was relocated last time?  When I was explicitly mad about that?  (This seems like a much smaller one though.)

Apparently in HS^2 proper they remarked that the door SHOULD be locked, but Vriska just opened it anyway and wasn’t surprised it was unlocked, which she would’ve ascribed to her luck -- how the universe just makes way for her.  (And we’re literally seeing HOW the “universe” “made way” for her this way, through these Influencer kids.  Even though Vriska could have broken down the door in a second and it’s practically meaningless.)

> (==>)

Avril just has the key!

AVRIL: so like my photoshoots are like, #modernfashion #myworkout #urbexp IMODE: Yea, your 📸 are why we’re all in this mess. We know. Get to it. AVRIL: fair. ok well this is the urban exploration part. AVRIL: a lot of the public infrastructure buildings in the kingdom have the same weird, shitty deadbolts on them. AVRIL: its like they were mass-produced for ease of access or something. AVRIL: none of the deep crockergov stuff, but a lot of the kingdom maintenance buildings. AVRIL: so once you swipe one key, you got access to it all. AVRIL: that’s how i get a lot of my hard-to-get shots #tradesecrets #tellnoone

Hhhmmmmm.  So what does this tell us about his potential role?  Getting places you’re not supposed to is associated with the Thief, Rogue, Bard, and sometimes Knight classes... as well as the Time/Space aspects, or the Void and Breath aspects.  A Thief or Rogue of Time could do the trick, and fit with the rhythm paragraph earlier... whereas Space doesn’t have the same rhythm associations even if it is “places” he’s getting into for these shots.  And photography, snapshots still in time, is something Dave was also explicitly into.  Plus, this exploit he’s showcasing is specifically for older buildings, playing into history/archaeology from an urban perspective.

So, Time is looking like a safer and safer bet for him.

> (==>)

lock click

> (==>)

long-hair swoop, cheer

SILAS: Yeah, I’m tickled a near-disproportionate amount by the unlockin’ of a door, so I’m inclined to believe you were onto somethin’.

Still no real hints about Silas, yet.

AVRIL: ok so. we did it, right? #missioncomplete AVRIL: feels a little anticlimactic #tbh IMODE: idk, I think so? whatever I was feeling doesn't seem so immediate anymore. IMODE: I wonder if-

Okay, that’s some near-confirmation that Imode was LITERALLY FEELING the plot or some such.  We’ll probably end the Influencers sidestory eventually with at least solid GUESSES blatantly obvious for their potential Hero Roles or the like.

> (==>)

Ah, Vriska and the kids are coming-- and we get the Silas paragraph(s)!  Silas is green-themed with green text, and a session with a Time player has a good chance of having a Space player too, so let’s see if...

Silas doesn’t know what being spotted by the other kids might mean, metaphysically or logistically or legally. She’s not particularly pressed by that sort of thing. But this is a day that’s come with more introspecting than she’s used to having to endure in a year, so she's ready to get moving before it becomes an issue.

As Harry Anderson, Vrissy, Vriska, and Tavros proceed to have this conversation, Silas pushes to catch up with Avril’s pace. She’s not sure where they’re headed, and has no clue what all this means for her. She knows the step she’s taken isn’t one she’ll be able to backtrack from, but she’ll figure that out tomorrow. For now, one foot in front of the other.

That...

I mean there’s a lot of talk of time-FRAMES, from a lazy perspective, but just-pushing-forward-in-the-here-and-now is reasonably Spacey? ...hm.  I was excited for the Silas paragraph(s) but I don’t see any immediately-apparent pattern meant for us to discern classpect info here.  Maybe a female Page example (since we could use one), propelled along by events without knowing what’s going on at first, too early in her journey to have taken more than her first step up the gradual incline of her long-term potential?

I really don’t know I guess.

Anyway, that’s the end of the bonus upd8!  See ya in a while.

[typewriterghcst]

Title: In the TV Light Rating: G-ish tbh Characters: The Cat King, Natori, Haru, and a bit of Natoru at the end Pairings: None except for mentions of Lune and Yuki, but I hope you’re prepared for a tender heart-to-heart where one of the participants is the Cat King. Summary: Not one to be appeased by flimsy substitutions when he really wants something, the Cat King drags a protesting Natori into the human world sometime after midnight in the hopes of obtaining a midnight snack worth getting out of bed for.  Notes: Written for the TCR 2020 Birthday Bash. I mean. Mostly. It actually first began life as a response to being given the one-word prompt “Glow.” Which at the time I had intended to be a reference to the glow of the convenience store lights on pavement or something pretentiously poetic like that lmao  i’ve also decided to go ahead and split this enormous rambling fic into pieces in the interest of making it more. uh. Accessible. however, there may be erratically. Long periods of time in between updates, aha rip

  Chapter 1: In Which Haru Makes A Questionable Decision

Natori’s face is pressed against one of his paws. Rather uncomfortably, he should add, as it’s a gesture that anyone who wears glasses will tell you is difficult to pull off without some vexing little issues, feline or not. After a moment or two of this private mourning for the nap he’d been at least absently looking forward to, he finally lifts his head again so that he can look his Issue in the grinning, odd-eyed face. The king is waiting for his answer. No doubt he’s already convinced himself it will be a favorable one, despite Natori’s show of exasperation. If not immediately, then… eventually.

Frustrated with the swell of helplessness that washes over him at this prospect, Natori turns his attention instead to the window, inadvertently looking out over the mess of still-crumbled tower, stone and rubble. He supposes it might count as a grounding, a ruined emblem to remind him why Claudius must have this voice of reason.

When he does reply, it’s with the long-suffering tone of an overworked schoolmarm.

"...You want me to organize another official procession into the human world— and at such alarmingly short notice, I might add— just so you can, if I have this right..." Here Natori's deadpan gaze falls directly on his royal employer's (ex? royal employer's?) hopeful, oblivious face, and he prays he looks just as judgmental as he's about to sound, "...pick up a bag of chips or two..?"

To both his relief and everlasting resignation, the Cat King only snorts at this prospect, or perhaps its ridiculous (but no less accurate) wording, but he does at least step back a bit, wobbling heavily on one foot and waving one paw in overconfidence at the same time. "Nah, babe— forget all that frilly procession baloney. This cat ain't the king anymore, is he? Not on paper, anyway. I say we just ollie on out there, grab what we want, come back, and eat like—” he snorts again, "—kings."

And, then, before Natori can protest again, unimpressed by the other cat's... joke, he continues, head canted, one eye squinted just so that he looks playfully critical of his ex-advisor's apparent poor memory. "And you know me, Natty— I ain't about that bag of chips life. Heh."

The Cat King snorts again, gaze drawn to his paw as he does. "...For all the walking I'm about to endure for it, you know it's gonna be oden or bust."

"Your Majesty, please, to— for you to travel in such a way—! It's—! I-It's.." Natori's objections fade when his old friend looks him in the eye, expression molded into what one would be forgiven for reading as wholly blank were it not for the underpinning of steel mixed in with the ennui. He sees it then— how nothing he says is going to hold any weight, how there is no way for him to make the king understand just how remarkably—! Immature! Unseemly! The Cat King is an old man, a retired one, at that, who is in the process of passing on his crown and livelihood to his more capable son, but he's certainly not supposed to ostensibly sneak out of his own lavish home like a delinquent teenager now that the pressure is off him! ...Is he?

The king is smiling widely at him again— the same smile he's always sported whenever he's gotten his way, or known he was about to get his way, and Natori— steels himself! He huffs; his eyes narrow. He's not defeated just yet!

"...But it must be after midnight in the human world right now." Ah. That came out fainter than he intended. Shoot.

More frustrating still, the king adds a peace sign to his goofy smile.

"Don't worry about it, babe. I had a plan for that all along."

                                                              &&&

"...This is your plan..."

"This is the plan, babe."

They are lingering outside a familiar home in the human world, perched solidly atop the fence surrounding it. A street lamp down the way they came flickers. Natori turns from that omen and instead regards the modest house with no small amount of dubious chagrin. Yet his companion only chuckles at his overt lack of confidence.

"Your Majesty, I— what on Earth makes you think Miss Haru is going to be willing to assist you in this venture?" Natori doesn't say as such, but her indignant disdain toward the Cat King after his, er, less-than-eloquent proposal had seemed quite clear to him.

"Because I'm the king."

"I quite clearly recall you saying you're not the king anymore, Si—"

"I'm the king," the Cat King repeats, more firmly this time, "And if she pulls a favor for me, that means she has me in her debt, right? Who could say no to that, uhh?"

Ah. That feels like a trap. Natori bites his tongue, but he's far from placated. This is not going to go the way his employer has envisioned it to in his head. Haru, he imagines, cares little for playing nice with the king and his... eccentricities, and an eventual confrontation between the two seems obvious to the bespectacled cat. Acting as the battered neutral party between two stubborn forces of nature is a far cry from how Natori would prefer to spend his late night, but he supposes there are few other cats as practiced as he is at the balancing act.

"Come on, time's a-wastin’—"

Without any other warning, his employer suddenly hops off the fence, disappearing within the cattails that are still growing in the yard (much to Natori's utter bafflement, at least, so Haru surely can't blame them for that), and takes off.

"Wait—!"

"Well, hurry up!"

By the time Natori catches up to his king, he's already practically glued to what Natori guesses is Haru's bedroom window. Her lights are off, which is to be expected, given the time. He catches only the smallest glimpse of the lump snuggled under the comforter before he's distracted by the king's less than courteous attempt at waking the poor girl— an open-palmed smack on the glass of her window, muted only slightly by his plush fur. To Natori's horror, the king raises his paw to try again, but he somehow manages to stop him before he gets the chance.

"Your Majesty, plea—"

"It worked!"

Indeed, it has. A quick glance back to the window before the two of them reveals that Haru (her face at least, the rest of her still cocooned within her duvet like a caterpillar) has emerged from under the covers and caught sight of the pair of cats currently sitting on her window sill as though they own the thing (...and at least one of them most certainly is the type to think so). And, Natori notes, she's regarding them in much the same way one might a forgotten four-month-old bento at the back of the fridge. That's about all the information he has time to absorb before cold, hard glass collides with his glasses and nose (vaguely, he's aware also of the surprised feline yowl that erupts from the king somewhere beside him).

He comes to seconds later on all fours, once again buried in the sea of cattails that at the moment constitutes Haru's family's yard. Haru herself is leaning nearly halfway out the now open window, pointing out at the two of them accusingly.

"What are you doing here?!" She hisses.

The Cat King pops up from out of his unintentional hiding spot among the tall brush, arms outstretched as if he has any right to be indignant, or perhaps is trying to placate an affronted ex. 

"C'mon, babe, what'd I do to deserve that kinda greeting..?"

Natori, still crouched somewhere to the side of his king, can only stare up at Haru's form in the window. She seems to be reluctant to raise her voice, which he supposes is reasonable enough. Meanwhile, an inner voice of his own sees fit to mention to him that he must look like something of a helpless bystander, if not a pitifully frightened kitten, and it's that realization which ultimately tugs him to his full height.

"Don't go acting like you don't know! I almost died because of you!"

"But you didn't!"

"That's not the point!"

Natori distracts the king with a soft tap to the arm.

"...Sire, perhaps it might help defuse the situation if you politely tell her why you've come to... er, visit her..? Politely," he adds again for good measure.

The Cat King is silent for a good moment or two, purring to himself, but finally he nods in approval.

"Good idea, Natty. There's no telling how long we'll be here otherwise."

"...politely..." Natori echoes faintly as he moves away, almost certain his advice will prove too demanding for the king to follow.

Haru, for her part, has at least receded from hanging halfway out the window and instead stands with her arms tightly crossed, looking back and forth between the two with an expression that promises great adversity should they try anything shifty, and for just a brief moment, Natori finds himself struck by a difference he can't quite put a time-frame to. She's quite an image removed from the shrinking violet he'd first spied hiding behind her front drive's stone pillar.

It’s a wonder the change hadn’t registered as a more permanent shift in confidence to him before now.

As if she hadn’t just impulsively knocked the two of them off the very same ledge upon merely spying them sitting there, the Cat King clambers up the side of Haru’s house, depositing himself right onto her window sill like a particularly large and unkempt robin and making himself at home all over again. Haru herself looks less than pleased with this development, but the fact she hasn’t shut her window and gone back to bed seems a good sign to Natori. After a moment of hesitation, he eventually follows his old friend.

"'Kay, here's the thing, babe—"

Natori opens his mouth to nervously correct the king's… vernacular as he arrives, but in the end merely closes it again, thinking better of it. By this point it's just a nervous tic, not a true term of romantic endearment. Otherwise, he'd refrain from referring to Natori himself in such a way. (...wouldn't he? Well, he doesn’t have time to puzzle that one out.)

"—human food is delish, right? But some of us don't have the right, ehhh, savoir-faire to get it for ourselves. Get it? We hafta ask for help. And that's where you come in, babe."

And then, silence. Haru’s previously crossed arms have loosened, and she seems to be trapped somewhere between quizzical and skeptical. 

“...that’s really all you want?”

“Would I lie? A king’s word is gold, babe.”

Haru looks from him to Natori, and the old cat struggles valiantly to keep a straight face and not allow even a shred of doubt in the king’s honesty show. Finally, some of the hard suspicion in her expression starts to fade, though a softer relative is still left behind in the form of uncertainty. When her gaze moves back to the king, it seems she has but one question left.

“Why do you need any help? Lune managed to get a gift for Yuki all by himself.”

To Natori’s surprise, the king then copies Haru’s gesture from just seconds before and looks to him, though in his case it’s with rather striking naivete (striking in its apparent authenticity, if nothing else), as if he’s waiting for an explanation on that mystery himself. Somewhere, an old, exasperated resignation creeps over Natori… Mm. Claudius has always been only too eager to leave the truly arduous questions to him, hasn’t he? Still, he answers readily enough, shoving that unexpected rise of resentment down into the depths from whence it came.

“I’m afraid Prince Lune is something of a— ah, special case. He’s quite well-known in the Cat Kingdom for spending a surprising amount of time in the human world.” Something he now realizes was likely Yuki’s influence. “It’s not at all a difficult stretch of the imagination to presume he must have cultivated a number of hospitable bonds here in the process.”

“Lune’s a networker,” the Cat King adds proudly.

“Unfortunately, well, we haven’t quite had that same opportunity,” Natori finishes. Were he more truthful, he might add that he and the king perhaps have relied a little too heavily on Natoru’s ingrained street smarts in the case of traversing the human world in the past. Haru at least appears amused by this explanation.

“...so, what you’re saying is you’re a couple of clueless, old tourists, is that it?” She eventually deadpans.

“Ha! That’s not a bad way to look at it, babe.” And yet, in a faint pout, the king eventually also adds, “I’m not that old.”

Haru’s brow rises. “No?”

“Natty’s older than I am.”

“Sire—”

“Well, that I’m not surprised by.”

The Cat King turns to survey him before Natori can get another word out. “I thought he was carrying his age pretty good myself.”

That actually gets a small laugh out of Haru, though it’s quickly stifled. Natori, meanwhile, can’t help but feel at least a little like the two are ganging up on him.

“No, King, that’s not what I meant.”

This friendly banter seems to be the last of the encouragement necessary to get through her defenses. Shifting her weight to her other foot, gaze drawn to the night sky in thought, she concedes. At least. Slightly.

“Alright… if it’s just a matter of some snacks…” She murmurs first to herself. “But that’s all! I’m not letting you rope me into some harebrained marriage scheme again, understand?”

The Cat King is already rubbing his paws together in anticipation of his beloved convenience store oden, but he at least remembers to nod in agreement.

“Sure, sure, babe. No funny business. Cross my heart.”

“And stop calling me babe.”

[jksangelic]

peaches & piercings (m)

↳ rating: M

↳ genre: punk!jimin, e2l, college au, very explicit smut, one-shot, jimin is a whole asshole

↳ pairing: cheerleader!reader x punk!jimin

↳ warnings: explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, sub/dom themes, casual sex, be t r ay a l, alcohol (and weed? idk) consumption, oral sex (male receiving), squirting, thigh-fucking, kind of exhibitionism?, jimin is pierced (that’s all i’ll say), just expect the worst from me tbh

↳ summary: jimin, dipped in hair-dye and pierced in so many places that you just couldn’t keep track, doesn’t think you’re his “type”. you call bullshit.

↳ note: i reallyreallyreally hated this fic. loved the idea, hated how i wrote it. i’ve had this bad boy sitting in my archives for months and months and months and couldn’t gather the courage to post it until NOW! partially because this is an apology fic for my inactivity and more so because i just think i’ve read it too many times that at this point, i’m just being nit-picky and need to move on.

a special thanks to the lovely @14statelier whomst unwillingly received dong pics for the sake of this fic. i’m so glad i found someone as sweet as you to beta for me + become an even better galpal! love u always xx

also thanks to my gal @jungshookz, i’m pretty sure (78% positive) i sent her my idea via snapchat and was probably inspired by her in some way, per usual.

OKAY i’m done you can read now hehehe

↳ words: 11.6k

↳ parts: one | two (complete)

“Jungkook, if you’re not going to throw it then get your grabby hands off my waist,” you warn, eyeing him as he stands behind you and delays in one-manning you into an extension or ogling your ass in your skirt.

           “You’re just so wobbly today, I’m waiting for you to chill out a bit,” he lies with a smirk. You smack his hand but exhale deeply as you firmly grasp his wrists and count.

           “1, 2!” With mutual timing, Jungkook dips down with you before heaving your body above, squatting to catch your heels mid-air, and pumping back up into an extended position. He’s right, you wobble a bit, calling out, “Bail!” and feeling his hands disappear beneath to re-catch your thighs and bring you down safely on your toes. You curse silently under your breath but pat Jungkook’s shoulder as a symbolic “thank you”.

“It’s too fucking early for this, I’m tired,” you say, only making excuses for yourself.

“Well, liven up. The doors are going to open soon and no freshmen want to join a failure of a cheer team.”

“Hey, stop bickering,” the captain, Suzy, orders, “Y/N, you’re fine to just handle the flyers, I’ll stunt with Jungkook.” You squish her into an exhausted hug.

“This is why you’re captain,” you coo.

With that, some of the staff open the gym doors, welcoming an intimidatingly large group of people in with smiles. You fake one yourself, ready to get this over with as soon as possible so you can go back to your dorm and sleep. Within ten minutes, you had a group of girls and a handful of brawny guys already watching Suzy and Jungkook’s exhibition, a mixture of oohs and ahs being rewarded. You handed each of them a thin, poorly-made flyer with pixelated clipart of a girl doing a toe-touch before they scrambled.

After a while, most of the initial commotion dies down and you people-watch each clueless face, thinking how adorable they are, so young and so lost, as if it weren’t you only a few months ago. You’re only a sophomore, but in your head that gives you enough authority to judge the freshmen.

You snap out of your daze upon boots clicking in the distance, soon revealing a man seemingly darting through the crowds to exit across the other side. You would’ve ignored him if it wasn’t for his peachy-tinted hair, long and slicked back atop and close-shaven near his neck, his thin but fit stature dressed in all-black, and the glint of metal, that you soon realized was a septum piercing, in his nose. He has a dark sleeve consuming his right arm and you wonder what eighteen or nineteen year old has a fully-developed sleeve.

Although his eyes were covered with chunky black sunglasses (in the gym, at that), the rest of his appearance sent your pierced-and-tatted-hot-boy alarm berserk. Suddenly awake, you wait for him to head closer to your booth before hopping next to him.

“Hi there, freshie. Care to take a tryout flyer for this year’s cheer team?” you ask with a pitch that’s much higher than your own, kindly handing him one of the shitty-looking papers. He mutters something under his breath that you don’t catch but speaks before you can ask him to clarify.

“Not a freshman. Do I look like someone who cheers? I’m just looking for the counseling center to turn in my transfer papers.

“Also, can you, like, give me some personal space?” he continues in a mock valley-girl tone.

You jump back, completely caught off guard with his sudden hostility and attempting to regain your composure by clearing your throat. Someone must’ve shoved a stick up his ass this morning.

“Oh, uh, sorry. Once you leave the gym, you head right, pass two sets of restrooms, head left, and it’s behind the big statue where the foyer is.” Your voice sounds much better.

His eyebrows rocket upwards over his glasses, completely frazzled by the number of directions you gave him, “Shit, okay. That’s a lot.”

“Here, I’ll just walk you,” you say, not giving him any time for him to probably decline. You don’t even question if he’s following you or not, the obvious clunkclunkclunk of his boots giving it away.

Unsurprisingly, the man doesn’t try to talk to you on the way to the counseling center. At most, he walks side-by-side, at least three meters between you for good measure. And even though it’s pretty clear he doesn’t want to talk, you ring him out a little more anyway.

“So, you’re not a freshman. Underclassman or upperclassman? And you’re a transfer? From where?”

Pass two sets of restrooms and head left.

“Senior. From Busan.” He doesn’t even show a hint of feeling. Emotion. Does this guy even breathe?

Straight until the statue in the foyer.

“Great. Well, it was nice to meet you, senior from Busan. I’m Y/N. If you ever need help or anything, feel free to ask me,” you deadpan, swiveling on your feet to salute him.

He leans on one hip, taking a hand with an incredible amount of rings on it and pushing his sunglasses over his hair like a headband. You certainly weren’t expecting a reveal of the kindest puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen in your entire life. He almost looks permanently sleepy—eyes drooping flat on the lid. Your trance distracted you from his brief once-over, unpredictably impressed by your looks, if he had to admit it.

“It’s Jimin. Jimin, senior from Busan. See you around, cheerleader,” he says with a sly tilt of his lips before swinging the door open and slithering into the office. Past all the glitter and bright colors that poured out of that hideous uniform of yours, Jimin found you really cute.

Jimin waits patiently for the front desk to call him up, lounging in one of the hard, black plastic chairs that never failed to give his ass cramps. Though he didn’t seem like it to new faces around the campus, he was ecstatic to be starting college again in a whole new atmosphere. He even got to room with another male originally from Korea, Min Yoongi, in a small condo not too far a walk from the area.

He could even prospect cuties like you during his year, undoubtedly positive he could busy himself judging by the attention he’s attracted so far. All it would take is a hungry stare, a lick of his lips, an all-knowing smirk. It was easier here than it was back home, if not child’s play. He could have you in three hours flat. But then he thinks of you choosing the obnoxious cliché of college cheerleader and cringes at the idea of associating himself with such… American-ness. He could at least go for some sort of indifferent, grunge hipster that might actually have some thought to her. Yeah, more his style.

The woman at the front finally calls for him, so he arranges his papers and shoos away any daydream of hooking up with the girl in a tight skirt and ankle socks.

Taking the long route back to the gym, your imagination sputters through all the possible reasons why you should hate that guy, bad-guy radar ringing and shrieking and threatening to punch you square in the eye if you even think about it. Eventually, it comes to the conclusion that he was just new, he was probably having a rough moving-in, and you shouldn’t judge a transfer by their hair. Book by its binding? You don’t really remember how the saying goes in this situation.

“Hey, good job on snaking yourself out of flyer duty. What, did you bang Asian Hot Topic on your way?” Jungkook snickers.

“And did Cait break up with you because you can’t dom for shit? Hand me my jacket.”

He guffaws, practically throwing the clothing at your face, “We didn’t break up, asswipe. How am I supposed to act when she suddenly calls me ‘daddy’ without previous warning? I’m not ready to be a father.”

“Kook, you’re dumb as shit. Maybe I should bang Asian Hot Topic and give you pointers of how a real dom works their magic.”

Jungkook crosses his arms in denial, “Pfft, you don’t even know him. He could be a receiver for all you know.”

One, two, three seconds. You both chortle at the impracticality.

You take one final look in the body mirror, adjusting the slinky grey dress and hanging an oversized burnt-orange corduroy jacket over your shoulders for that final touch of unnecessary, but fashionably-adept, garnish to your outfit cupcake. Not having enough time to do your hair, you sweep it over to one side and leave it as is.

“You look fine and you’re ten minutes late so get out already,” your roommate, Sara, whines. She practically pushes you out, slamming and locking the door for emphasis.

Waving off your discombobulated roommate, you start your trek to the humanities building (which is so far away) with a skip in your step. A new school year meant new people, new classes, more lunchtimes with subpar food and occasional parties that could potentially lead to you getting arrested. Who knows!

A new school year, however, didn’t mean that you would know your way to your new class apparently. Bummer.

It’s only by your fourth circle and a glance at your phone that you panic, fifteen minutes somehow passing in the midst of your scrambling. Pace quickening, you pull out your paper with sloppily written notes of what class room number was at which time, simultaneously half-jogging past classrooms and—

“Oof!”

You land straight on your ass.

“Ow, watch where you’re going stu—oh, it’s you.”

You look up groggily, pain stinging through your legs from the brunt of your fall and lazily making eye contact with a pair of puppy dog eyes. Jimin stands above you, rubbing his chin where, you suppose, your forehead made rough contact with and indiscreetly staring at your bright blue panties where your dress failed to cover.

Hopping up and dusting yourself off, you pick up your fallen bag and paper before glaring at him, “Sorry, I got lost and wasn’t paying attention.”

He scoffs, “Aren’t you the cheerleader? You’re supposed to be, like, the girl scout of the school, right? You shouldn’t be lost.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, well. I am,” you mutter to yourself, “I don’t even think there’s a 207 in this building…”

“Oh, 207? Intro to psych, right? That’s where I’m going too,” he admits, eyes blown wide. Welp, certainly not the highlight of your morning.

“Great. By the looks of the current time, we’re both lost and,” you wave around the empty corridor, “there’s no one who’s going to help us.”

“I’m not lost. I just woke up late,” he answers nonchalantly, a warm glow to his face like he couldn’t give two damns about his class.

“W-What? Then let’s go! Where is it?”

Jimin twirls and walks a different direction, mumbling, “I’m not your escort, rich girl.”

You prattle at his comment but follow him anyway. When you find the correct lecture hall, you groan at the fact that you already passed it several times. He opens the door quietly, not even bothering to hold it for you as you scramble to catch it. A couple of the back rows look back at you two, annoyed by the minor inconvenience.

“Well. Welcome to my 10AM psychology class at,” the professor booms through the hall and peeks at his wristwatch, “10:36. Go ahead and take these two free seats.”

Jimin shrugs and walks towards the front of the room, a quiet and embarrassed you tiptoeing behind him. Being this late and having to sit next to this ass wasn’t how you wanted your first day to go at all.

For the remainder of the 24 minutes until the first break, you skim over the contents that you missed in the syllabus and want to ram your head into the closest wall. Participation and attendance by themselves are 30% of your grade, homework and assignments (thank god) being a measly 20%, and the final plus tests and quizzes a hunking remainder of 50%. What even was this system?

During your ten minute break, you silently scroll through your phone notifications, setting it down irritatingly when the hall refused to grant you enough service to respond to any of them.

“Don’t have LTE, princess? Might as well watch paint dry without your phone to entertain you,” Jimin snickers beside you. You scowl menacingly at him and he giggles more.

“I don’t know what your problem is, but back off, Jimin. Sorry I don’t, like, play the electric guitar in my free time or whatever.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, still smiling and blowing bubbles with his gum, popping them quite obnoxiously, and quite intentionally.

“What, do you think I play the electric guitar? Are you stereotyping me as some sort of garage band drop-out punk?” he jesters.

“And do you take me for some sort of pink fuzzy consumerist? You don’t know me. Buzz off.”

Jimin had definitely tucked you into his mental folder of “tough gals”; his aloof tactic of flirting not seeming to penetrate that pretty skull of yours. He could just take the path of least resistance and approach you normally, but where was the fun in that? You were too interesting a specimen to just use-and-discard.

Jimin suddenly thinks you look attractive with furrowed brows and pouted lips. It was most definitely working for you, so he lets it slide for now. When class ends, you all but bolt before Jimin can even look your way, sure he’d find another surface flaw to pick at.

You suddenly think of what all of the adults in your life have said during your upbringing: people that went out of their way to bully you were either jealous or had an embarrassingly crushing “thing” for you. Jimin, on the other hand, was just annoying.

Of course, to your dismay, class isn’t the only time you ever saw him. You weren’t totally stupid. The campus didn’t stretch for miles and you were bound to see him sometime and have to deal with the efforts of avoiding the man at all costs but fuck were you praying to whoever controls your Sim above that they would grant you some mercy.

“Just tell him to fuck off if he’s so far up your ass,” Jungkook argues, crushing his juice box in one gulp and biting his massive cafeteria burrito.

“You don’t get it, Kook. I have. So many times, in so many different instances. Did I tell you about the time I thought he was helping me get a textbook from a tall shelf but he ended up taking that last one for himself?” You angrily rip a bite from your limp sandwich. You really did hate Turkey Thursdays.

“Eh, first come, first serve. Maybe he didn’t know you were trying to grab that one.”

“My ass, Jungkook. He claimed that if I really wanted it, I would ‘do something in fair exchange’ for it. I’m not looking to going into prostitution anytime soon.”

“Respect sex workers,” Jungkook criticizes.

“Oh, no, totally. Sex work just isn’t my forte.” Kook shrugs.

“Okay,” you continue, “how about the time I went to IKEA to buy that ceiling lamp and was obviously struggling to one-trip everything from my car? The dumbfuck passed by and asked if I needed help, so I was like, ‘Yeah! Sure, it would definitely make up for the time you asked for sex in lieu of my psych book,’ but instead of helping me carry anything he took my coffee, drank some, and left.” Jungkook starts a rebuttal but you cut him off short, “Then he showed up to my work the other day, god knows how he even saw me in there, and started taking a video of me when I wasn’t paying attention!”

“What the hell,” your friend sports a face of disgust, “like, he’s stalking you?”

You scratch the back of your neck, “Well, not exactly? I think he was just maybe—see, A$AP Rocky may or may have not been playing on the speakers, and I didn’t know anyone was in the shop! So. I don’t know. I started—”

“Started rapping with a rolled up poster as your microphone,” he deadpans. Finishing your horrid sandwich, you crumple the saran wrap and chuck it at his eye, satisfied when we wails exaggeratingly.

“Maybe that’s just his way of flirting with you, he’ll get bored eventually.”

“I think he just hates my guts and thinks of me as an equal to the gum under his thick, goth boots,” you mumble.

“Does it matter? So what if Danny Phantom doesn’t like you?”

“He’s causing a problem though. Besides, everyone cares if someone doesn’t like them. It’s bullshit if they tell you otherwise; bullshit or a lack of sympathy.”

“So what are you going to do about it? Because I’m totally your friend and all but I don’t necessarily want to hear about your boy problems all the time.” You harrumph at his negligence and slump back into your seat.

There really wasn’t anything you could do about it; it wasn’t bad enough to the point of distressing tyranny. You simply couldn’t befriend the guy, it was obvious he didn’t want that. You would just have to pray to all things good that he would eventually lose interest, stop harassing you out of kindness, or have a change of heart and treat you like the saint you were.

If only it were that easy.

Sylly-week kicked ass, to say the least. Even two days prior the hectic week from hell, your body aches from partying while your wallet cries from all the textbooks and supplies you paid for.

Sara slept beside you, forehead stuck to the desk with her laptop stuck on some sort of half-assed document and you couldn’t fathom a better picture to represent college.

Although it was already around 11, you hop out of bed and throw on your windbreaker from cheer and some spandex, shuffling into a pair of your sneakers and bolting out of your room with your bag. The amount of sodium and sugar you consumed from Cup-O-Noodles and off-brand cookie dough bites made you feel disgusting, and you know running a quick mile at the gym would get your blood pumping enough to make you: 1) feel better about yourself and 2) put your ass to sleep.

The walk is short, the air still a little heavy with heat but cool enough for you to be comfortable in a long-sleeve. Some tired students exit the library, really the only other people you see at this hour. You would’ve thought it creepy if the campus wasn’t so well-lit and played background music through the announcement speakers. If you died or got kidnapped, at least it was to some groovy jazz.

You swipe your card across the sensor beside the athletic building door, waiting for that subtle beep before the gears clank and allow you to heave the door open. Immediately, the smell of sweat poorly masked with air freshener fill your nostrils and your adrenaline builds. You’re no body builder, but a run certainly sounded nice right about now.

You practically skip through the halls, rounding a corner to enter the weight room before you stop in your tracks to see someone in the room across. You squint suspiciously, peachy hair striking a very strong familiarity to…

“Jimin?” you whisper to yourself. You shouldn’t be surprised that he’s at the gym, but you are because he isn’t. He’s in the dance studio. Before you bolt, your eyes glue to his sensual movements, legs gliding across the floor and body free-flowing alongside the bass-filled music. No previous bias could deny that he looks like an angel in his room, dancing smooth as meringue and practically skating across the floor despite those clunky black boots of his; and powerful, hitting every note and beat with intention and vigor. You’ve never seen anyone dance like this.

After a few seconds, you render that you’re spying on him and continue walking, nervously scuffing your sneakers down the linoleum and immediately, and unfortunately, catching his attention.

He first sees you in the mirror. Ignores you. Then realizes it’s you and turns into the most ungraceful bag-of-bones as he scurries to pause the music and chases you down the hall.

“Hey!” he yells, grabbing your elbow.

“Don’t touch me,” you strike back, jerking your elbow out of his grasp and staring him down.

He looks apologetic, genuinely worried for a second before he breathes deep and tries again, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to grab you like that. Um, why are you here?”

“Um, because I can be? I was going to go to the gym, dickwad.”

It takes all of his patience not to insult you, “Okay. You’re right. Were you… were you watching me?”

You give him a sickeningly-sweet smile, “Don’t flatter yourself. I was just passing by.”

He nods solemnly, straightening his tank as if it wasn’t already wrinkled and damp with sweat, “Okay. Okay, cool.” He starts to turn before he keeps going in a 360.

“Can you keep this between me and you? That I was here? That I was here and I was—”

“Dancing?” you ask quizzically, “Why does it matter?”

His eyebrows stitch together in frustration, “Y/N, do I look like I’m a dancer?” He gestures to his piercings and his sleeve, waving his hands about in so many different places that your lewd curiosity wonders what he looks like naked—for the sake of knowing how many piercings and tattoos he has though, obviously.

“I think you look like a dancer. Just not a contemporary dancer. Did you take ballet?” you half-tease, crossing your arms and beaming slyly at him.

Jimin huffs, impatient, “Will you just keep it locked somewhere in that airhead of yours?”

“What’s in it for me, Jiminie,” you pout, “what do I get as reward for keeping your secret?”

He falters a moment, licking his plump lips and walking dangerously close, “You want a reward? I don’t take you as that kind of girl, Y/N.”

He must be delirious, eyeing him so and shoving him away, “Ew, no. I just meant, like, be nice to me from now on. And help me with psychology. That class is nothing but a memory test.”

He blinks dumbly from your rejection; who ever rejected him? He waves it off.

“Okay. I can be compliant. I won’t treat you like the rich bitch you are, and I tutor you on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Deal?”

“I’m not a rich bitch. I have student loans like the rest of the student population, thank you very much. Deal.”

You smile at each other devilishly, ready to part ways before bursting out with an instant, “Wait!”

Jimin looks over his shoulder curiously. Damn, you could really see how toned his shoulders were in that shirt.

“There’re dance majors here, is that what you transferred for?”

He turns all the way, leaning sideways against the wall and sighing, “Honestly, yes. But my family thinks I’m transferring to finish my business degree and that I would have better opportunities here. I really did it because there’s some great studios in the area but—” he catches himself rambling, “I don’t know how they would feel about my grand decision.”

You shrug, “You’re a great dancer, Jimin. Honestly, you could open your own studio here if you wanted to. You do have great opportunities.”

His sleepy eyes stare you down, a half-smile drawing itself out before he can take it back. “Give me your phone,” he orders.

You don’t know why but you do.

He dials into it with his overly-accessorized fingers, giving you a moment to get a closer look at his septum and the abundance of ear-piercings he sports before he hands it back. You’re pretty sure one of them is Gucci and you bite back a chuckle. Rich bitch.

“That’s my number. Text me when you’re free on study days.”

And with that, he re-enters his room and resumes the music.

The first time Park Jimin meets with you at a Starbucks on a Tuesday, like he instructed, you thought you somehow managed to get yourself stuck in the Twilight Zone.

“Hey, it’s Y/N. My last class ends at 3 on both days and there’s already a quiz this Friday. Help.”

 You sent the text without emojis. He didn’t deserve any.

You had barely got to Instagram before he texted you back. With multiple messages.

 “u text like a gramma”

“but ok”

“starbucks at 330? i’ll buy”

 You giggled to yourself at his joke, sending a single “(:” and putting your phone to sleep.

 To your disbelief, he really did buy you a cheese danish and a tall, iced, caramel macchiato. You sip it gingerly while he pulls his things out of his bag: a couple mechanical pencils (the industrial, expensive ones), a 1-inch binder organized by subject with dividers, and notecards. You grab them and hold them up like it’s evidence from a leading murder case.

“Notecards? You are way too organized and functional.”

He snags your pastry before you can grab it and takes a huge bite, “Yeah, but ih’s gonna het you a bedder ghrade.”

Whining, you get it back after his second bite, somehow only half remaining.

“Okay. Let’s get started. It should only be a vocab check because that’s really all he’s asked us to study so far. We’ll start with my wonderful notecards,” he waves them in the air for effect, “and see which ones you do and don’t know.”

You nod, waiting for the chaos to begin. Who were you to tell him that you haven’t actually studied any of the vocab yet? He holds the first one up. Abductive reasoning.

“Uhh… is that like, something detectives use on kidnapping cases?”

“Wh-What? No. Well—are you thinking of ‘abductions’? Abductive reasoning is being able to use the two states of induction and deduction alongside your intuition to reach a conclusion,” he pauses and tilts his head a little, “ I guess the best analogy is giving out a verdict on a criminal case. Without being 100% sure, they use the evidence to tie together as many different points as they can to come to a conclusion. So, I mean, you got it wrong, but you can easily remember the definition with that.”

You’ll take what you get (majority of his reasoning went through one ear and out the other, anyway), wiggling your eyebrows in justified approval. Jimin laughs at you, eyes squinting to slits and shaking his head. He takes notice that you aren’t wearing much makeup today, your cheeks and the bridge of your nose a tad red with irritation and a bit dry where the sun burnt and eyes daintier without so much eyeliner on them. You threw on a tank and some workout shorts and look like the epitome of… comfortable, in your head. Jimin thinks you look effortless.

“Park?” you wave your hand in front of him.

He catches himself staring and jumps out of his seat, chair screeching across the tile.

“Sorry,” he coughs, “I’m going to take a whiz.” Stupid. He practically trips over himself to get to the restroom.

You watch him hurry to the back. He probably had much better things to do than help you study in the middle of the afternoon. A couple of younger girls watch him as he passes, giggling like a pack of fangirls and combing their hair out of their faces. If they only knew.

Did he even have a girlfriend? Most likely not, right? He only just transferred here and despite his well-endowed looks, he was still intimidating. Like a giant “don’t touch, I bite” sign constantly hung around his neck.

He comes back shortly, and before you can deduct that you would rather save the embarrassment than to quench your curiosity, you ask, “Are you dating anyone?”

“Because you get a lot of followers,” you reason, shamelessly pointing out the girls who ogle his tattooed biceps. They giggle again when he looks their way. God, so many giggles.

He rubs the back of his neck nervously and that intrigues you, “No, I’m not dating anyone. I think if it weren’t for my… accessories? And the fact that I’m foreign, girls wouldn’t like me as much.” You find tiny comfort that he’s single but squish the thought away.

“How ‘bout you? Dating that guy on your team?” he retorts.

“Who, Jungkook?” you snort, “No. He has a girlfriend and he’s all brawn over brain. I’m not dating anyone, actually. I don’t like guys that are so competitive to win females strictly for the points, and there’s a lot of that here. S’gross; we’re not animals.”

“We kinda are,” he argues, but smiles understandingly.

“Okay, but not in the way where your possible significant other has to perform an instinctual mating dance?”

He juts up an eyebrow, “Really? Because I could easily arrange that.”

For the first time, you both laugh. At the same thing. Who knew that Jimin could dance of all things? And pay for your food? And actually be a nice guy who’s really smart? Thinking about it, today has gone so polar-opposite of what you expected that you contemplate if this is Jimin’s identical twin that just happens to have the same piercings and ink that bully-Jimin has.

Twilight Zone.

“Okay, let’s continue,” he says, resuming the queue of notecards.

“Define abulia.”

“Hello? Earth to Y/N?” Jimin waved a hand in your face.

“Hm? Sorry, say it again.”

Jimin packed up his supplies, then grabs yours and tucks them into your bag, “I said, ‘Are we going to your place right now?’ You said you picked up Black Panther on DVD so I want to watch it.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. Cats and shit.”

You both stand up and stretch, the rest of the students in the lecture hall slowly filing out. Midterms were already approaching, which meant that you and Jimin had known each other for quite some time now. His tutoring was ditched weeks ago after you were finally comfortable with the material and able to comprehend what the professor was saying without Jimin to interpret. At first, meeting up stopped completely. You two would talk occasionally during class break and that’s all, and after a while, you just figured your deal was completed and Jimin finished his case and you both separated onto your different ways.

But then Jimin had asked if you wanted coffee at the same Starbucks you had first studied at, but for no specific reason. Just to hang out. So, you did.

Hanging out once or twice for coffee turned into twice getting lunch turned into four or five times lazing about your dorm, and now, you were just completely, wholesomely, friends. It was hard not to be on edge at the contrast of current Jimin to hell-on-earth Jimin, but you took what you could get.

“Is something on your mind? You’ve been spacing out for a long time,” he prods, taking your bag himself and throwing it over the same shoulder his own bag was on. The

walk to your dorm building was short but you could feel your feet dragging from sudden exhaustion.

“I think I’m just tired? I’m fine. Ready to Black Panther it up and all that jazz,” you chuckle. He takes the hint and resorts to quietly humming to your room rather than talking. That’s one thing you liked about him, he always knew when your mind just needed simple white noise.

Unlocking the door and jostling it out of its stickiness, you make a running jump to faceplant onto your bed. The mattress dips next to you when Jimin sits.

“I know you like cheer and all, but I think you need to take a break,” he says.

“Easier said than done. And I have mandatory captain conditioning in 3 hours,” you groan, propping your head on the palm of your hand to watch Jimin as he eats a stale bag of chips that he found on your nightstand. His face contorts in repulsion and throws the bag away.

“Okay, well, you’re not going. Tell them you’re sick. Let’s watch some DC movies and eat popcorn and have, like, a girl sleepover but I’m not a girl and I don’t want to spend the night,” he says, counting each point on his fingers.

“First of all, you lunatic, it’s Marvel not DC. Second, I don’t have popcorn. I can’t just skip conditioning because if I gain one pound Jungkook will sense it with his nose or something and attack me.”

“What,” he says in disbelief, grabbing your waist with one hand and squeezing a little, “you’re fine. You’re not going today and that’s final.” It’s not very often he touches you and as much as you try not to show it, you feel your face heat and mouth gape open and closed, ready to combust. You don’t particularly know why; guys touch you all the time (not in that way, thank you very much) but when it was Jimin, it was like you had been raised feral and failed to receive any means of human interaction.

He notices, taking his hand away as quick as he placed it and looking at the floor. Despite your lack of proper reaction, you would be lying if you said you didn’t feel a little twinge of disappointment. God, you’re so confusing to yourself.

“How about you? Your vampire ass won’t dance in sunlight so you must be tired too. How long do you normally dance for when you’re in the studio?”

“Well,” he lays flat on his back and stares at your popcorn ceiling (your dorm building was extremely outdated), “I try to workout at the actual gym in the morning before I get ready for class, and then I dance from 11 to whenever I feel is enough during the weeknights. That is, if no one’s there.”

“Why do you even follow this whole path of disliking mainstream trends and ‘rebelling against the world’? Isn’t that tiring? Aside from dance, do you, like, make your own skateboards and go to secret underground bars or something?” you tease. He rolls his head towards you in annoyance and mouths a “ha ha”.

“No, I just. I don’t know. I don’t like people telling me what to do or where to go or how to look,” he showcases his tatted arm. “This is all mine. I don’t want to be another puppet controlled my whole life to consume and work off a never-ending debt just so I can only live comfortably when I’m old but too old to actually live.”

“Wow, bro. That’s deep,” you pretend to smoke a pretzel stick. He continues anyway.

“Recently I made some friends that are in one of my labs. They’re from Korea too. If I’m not studying or working or hanging out with you, I’m probably with them. Partying or something,” he says, stealing away your “cigarette” and crunching on it loudly.

“Woah, you work? How do you find the time to do that?”

“Kinda. Nothing official, I just tutor people sometimes. Charge them by the hour and make some decent pocket change for food or whatever.”

You contemplate. How come he’s never charged you for your tutoring before? You ask him, studying his side profile and admiring his jawline when he talks. Flexing then easing; taut then relaxed.

“Because we had a deal. We agreed that I would help you in psych as long as you kept my secret, in which you did, so I figured that was good enough. Besides, you’re too cute to charge. I look like a bad boy but I’m not evil.” You giggle, resembling a middle-school fangirl and exaggerating a flattered stature.

Jimin laughs again, light and refreshing staccato notes that you could honestly listen to all day. It was therapeutic in its own crackhead way.

You’ve been unintentionally staring at him more and more often, Jimin finally taking notice within the last few minutes. He knew how to read a girl; how revealing they make themselves to impress him or how their eyes dim in any sort of suggestion that his hands should somehow find place on their body. But with you, he has no idea what that stare means. For the most part, you carry yourself so independently to the point of being standoffish and Jimin just can’t figure you out. He sought the day you would give in and beg for a night with him just like most of the other girls in his classes did, and when you didn’t, he wanted to know why. Not out of inflated ego or need to get into your pants—okay maybe because of that initially—but even more so that he just needed to dissect you. Know how to get you going, what kind of person you really are, which was completely different from what he originally imagined.

You were talking amidst his thoughts, not paying attention to the strings of sentences that fell out of your lips and before he knew it, he held himself directly above you, hands on each side of your head and staring right down into your disordered doe eyes.

“What makes you so different?” he asks aloud, more to himself than you. Puzzled and not under the impression that it was a rhetorical question, you shake your head.

“I don’t u-understand. What are you doing, Ji—”

He tucks a loose strand of yours out of your face, causing you to hiccup. “I feel like when I think I know you, I’m actually far from it.”

You don’t particularly know what you’re supposed to say to that.

“You didn’t ever need to get to know me. You just needed to make sure I kept your secret,” you play along. Knowing it wasn’t really the whole case, your own statement stings a little. If it weren’t to save his own ass, would he even be here right now?

Like he read your mind, he answers, “Why would I be here? I haven’t needed to help you in weeks. I’m with you all the time because I want to be. Because I—”

“Because you…?” you trail on, heart beating so hard you swear he can hear it. You wanted him to say it, maybe that’s what was keeping you from confirming your feelings. You needed validation; that this wasn’t just you or that this was some one-sided longing because you doubted someone like him could ever like someone like you.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks instead, so hesitant and delicate and worrisome all in one question and you ponder if this is the same boy you first met at orientation.

“Please.”

He dips down slowly, eyes half-closed in anticipation of what your face looks like so close, pausing an inch away when you shut your own. You feel his warmth near your mouth, waiting for that first touch, any contact, until it seems like it’s been far too long. When you peek, you see nothing but his perfect… cheekbone? He stares, jaw stuck open and eyes fluttering, at the intruder in the door before swinging himself off the bed and coughing awkwardly.

“Oh, Sara. I didn’t know you were coming home so early today,” you squeak out. You sit up yourself, brushing off nonexistent dust from the bed and watching Jimin gather his things in a rush and squeezing past a concerned Sara in the doorway. He doesn’t even turn back, ears stinging red and peeping a quick, havetogotextyoulater. Great, the asshole left you to face your roommate alone.

“Was that Jimin? Park Jimin? The fucking transfer student?”

“Oh my god, Sara, what’re you freaking out about?”

Dropping her stuff in the middle of the room, she shrieks annoyingly and grabs your shoulders, “Are you seriously fucking with the Park Jimin? Y/N. Nuh-uh. No way. Do you know what you’re getting yourself into?”

“Chill out! We’re just friends. He tutors me sometimes.” Not quite a lie.

She eyes you and deadpans, “Yeah, I didn’t know tutoring also included a one-on-one session of how to have sexual intercourse.”

“You’re so dramatic,” you remove her hands, which were digging crescents into your skin, and pretend to arrange your bed, “we haven’t even kissed. You just walked in at an inconvenient time.”

Sara sighs, rubbing her temples and sitting on your bed, “Look, babe. Just be careful. I’ve been to parties with him and have heard some awful things. Shit you expect from a movie where the girl gets fucked over because the guy doesn’t know how to keep his dick in his pants. I just want the best for you, okay? He’s not as sweet as you might think he is.”

He isn’t sweet at all, you said internally. But still, your heart clenches at her words. Sure, he acts like a dick, and you shouldn’t be surprised if he really does get around as much as Sara suspects; but there was just some sort of denial that lingered. If he really was such a player, why would he have stuck around with you for as long as he has, as platonic as it has been until now?

“I… I didn’t know that. I’ll be careful,” you assure her.

All it took was a squinty-eyed smile and a tiny caress to the small of your back on the way into the lecture hall for you to completely melt into his hands. You were simply putty, magically molding into some gross, odd-smelling ball of love just because of the almost-incident yesterday. You can practically feel the radiating disappointment from Sara if she knew how easily you gave yourself up for him.

His face reoccurs in your daydreams for days, all the way up until the weekend comes up from behind and smacks you on the ass.

“Focus,” Jungkook taps you through you skirt again. Oh, or maybe it was Jungkook.

The stadium speakers blared with announcements and you’re brought back to the world of clashing helmets, captain’s orders and Jungkook’s strong hands residing on your waist for partner stunts.

You didn’t need to be reminded, you were much more stable than you were weeks ago. He throws you in the air during the signaling note of the band and catches your right foot with ease above him, keeping you stable as you pull a heel stretch and present a pretty smile. The crowd roars along, inspiring the team and singing along with the cheers.

By the end of the game, you’re exhausted, tearing down paper signs from the concrete walls and shuffling your poms into your bag in a hurry.

“Hey, are you going to the feed after? Everyone’s going, I could give you a ride,” Jungkook offers, but you shake your head.

“I’m pretty beat. I’ll go next time.” He shrugs, finding more interest in catching up to someone who is interested than trying to convince you otherwise. By the time your clean-up is done, most of the fans are gone, the stadium a comparable difference of quiet than how it was only twenty minutes ago.

“You’re sure taking forever,” a sudden voice pipes up. Outside the gate stands Jimin, all-black tank and jeans, per usual. “You looked great out there.”

You smile, suddenly awake and jogging towards him, “What’re you doing here? I thought you didn’t like football.” During all your rushing do you realize that you relax around Park, time always seeming to slow down in his presence and you dissolve into his effect.

“I don’t. Such an American moneymaker. They’re all cons.” He takes your bag like he always does, leaning against the gate and looking excited, “Mind if we stop by my place? I have something to show you. It’s not far, probably only a 5 minute walk from here.”

You nod before he even mentions how long it takes to get there, heart palpitating at the thought that he’s inviting you over. You’re sure you smelled from cheer and you probably looked like the opposing team warmed up suicide runs over your sweaty body, but you nod.

“Were you here the whole time? Or just towards the end?” you ask, slightly insecure towards the fact that he could’ve been watching you cheer.

“Was here since halftime. Got Yoongs to watch with me at the gate where I was before for the most part. He left halfway through fourth quarter though, said he got tired from seeing others exert themselves so much,” he chuckles at the thought, eyes squinting and crooked tooth visible from the side. Your heart swooned, you were even starting to notice the little things. How he acted. His habits. What he did and didn’t like.

You were in fucking deep.

“I did get to see you cheer though,” he answers your unspoken inquiry, “you looked pretty, Y/N. It’s like watching a whole ‘nother person compared to how you act outside of uniform.” You’re still stuck on the word “pretty” and nod along like you’re listening.

“You should see how people look at you,” he draws on, “like they’re entranced. Even when you were just relaxing on the sideline, not doing anything, you stand out.”

“Oh my god, Jimin, where is this even coming from? One more compliment and the world might explode from the paradox you’re creating.”

He shoves your shoulder lightly, laughing at your tomato-red face, “What do you mean? I can’t compliment you?”

“No that’s not—I just mean. You know. You used to hate me and now you shower me with praise like I’m the best person in the world. It’s just crazy how much our relationship has changed. And… And yesterday—”

“Yo, can’t believe you really stayed for the rest of the game,” a raspy voice outbursts. You just realize that Jimin stopped you in front of a house, presumably his house, as a mint-haired ball sits on the porch. He inhales from his cigarette and exhales through his nose before throwing it underneath his boot.

“Hey, Yoongs. This is Y/N. Y/N, Min Yoongi, my roommate. Has a bad smoking habit and have only recently gotten him to smoke outside.” Jimin snickers, offering a hand to lift Yoongi off the step and welcome him into some bro-hug.

“You smoke too, bastard. Just did it ‘cause I knew you were bringing someone home tonight,” Yoongi retaliates, eyeing your figure. Shivers run down your spine at the comment.

Jimin coughs unexpectedly, then anxiously laughs as he pulls your arm behind him and into the house, “We’ll be in the living room. Go sleep or something.” Yoongi only clicks his tongue in response.

“Sorry,” he says once your inside, “he can be a little too personal sometimes. He’s really nice once you get to know him.” You shake your head, giving him a comforting smile that eases the tension in his shoulders.

He settles you on the couch, host-like politeness apparent when he asks if you want anything to drink, tells you where the bathroom is, and hands you the tv remote before disappearing to find his laptop. His home was cozy, minimalist furniture often in gray, black, and an occasional blue spread throughout the rooms. You weren’t sure if the boys were attempting to be modern or if college tuition only allowed them this sort of set-up, but nonetheless, it was way nicer than you expected.

“Back,” Jimin plops onto the couch right next to you, Apple laptop unlocked to a default background. He looks to you briefly before setting up some page on Google, “Have you signed up for your classes for next quarter yet?”

He looks different, your eyes scanning over his face to figure out just what it is, “Basically, just gotta confirm and pay and whatnot. Have you, Jimin?”

It’s his septum, you discover, that he’s taken out. He looks handsome either way. Propping the laptop suddenly on your lap, he beams, “Yeah, go ahead and take a look.”

You scroll through the page, humming to yourself, “Mhm… Mhm… Accounting, business 101, contemporary repertory… God, you’re going to hate sociology with Doyard, she’s a complete psycho!” You trail, giggling at his misfortune. Once you’re done, you meet his discontent face.

It takes a few takes from his face to the screen, back to his face, until oh shit!

“Wait does ‘contemporary repertory’ mean something important?” you squeal in rushed excitement. “Is that a dance thing? Are you taking a dance class here?” Before he can even explain, you shut the laptop and safely place it on the coffee table before tackling the man, withdrawing an oof from his lips.

“Easy, girl. Please don’t break me before I even get to show up on the first day.”

“Jimin, this is amazing. You’re finally doing something you want to do, during regular hours, at that!” You nuzzle into his warm chest, “I’m so happy for you, Jimin. I hope you have fun.” His heart clenches at that; how could you be so fucking caring about him? He knew you’d be surprised, but not genuinely happy for him. His hand glides over the skin between your midriff and skirt, an inkling of a gasp floating out of your throat.

“Sorry,” he whispers, moving his hand higher and locking eyes with yours. Time is always slow with him but now, it’s like it was screaming at you to take the opportunity. Unwinding one of your arms from around his neck, you smooth his hair up so you can see those prepossessing eyes.

“You can touch me,” you confirm just as softly. His features harden and you hope you didn’t read the situation wrong.

“I… I never got to kiss you that night.”

“Then you can kiss me now, if you’d like,” you say, pleading in your voice and it’s all he needs to hear before he burns his lips into yours. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve wanted this,” he pants between suckles to your bottom lip. He kisses like he dances: powerful and in perfect control with his body, molding it to yours and massaging the skin he just apologized for touching only seconds ago.

You cup his face and look down at him with sultry prowess, “I want you, Jimin. I’ve always thought about this, hoping you would just make a move, idiot.” You dive back into him, his moans prominent when you lick and nip at his lip. He lowers his grip to your ass, squeezing and pushing his hips into your own.

“Well, I’ve always thought about fucking you in this cursed uniform,” he growls, forcing a giggle out of you. Grinding down into him for effect, your mouth travels to his ear so you can state a small confirmation.

“I’m flexible, babe. I’m all yours.”

He hums his praise, latching his mouth onto your neck, laving and peppering blues into your skin before he carries you off the couch. You wrap your legs around him instinctively, “Where are you taking me?”

Heading into a hallway and taking a sharp left, he kicks his door open, “I don’t know about you, hot stuff, but Yoongs doesn’t need to see you getting dicked down in our living room,” he jests. When he lays you back onto the foot of his bed, you briefly scan his room and find it hard to believe that it’s relatively clean, the posters on his walls the only thing that seemed cluttered. This guy was your high school self’s wet dream. Scanning him promiscuously, you chuckle.

“I can be into it,” you drawl playfully.

Earning an unimpressed scoff, he fingers the hem of his shirt, “You’re mine,” he sheds it in a swift pull and throws it to the side cockily. Marveling at each detailed divot and curve of muscle, you can’t help but bite your lip in frustrated anticipation. “Unless, you don’t want me,” he finishes with a tilt of his head. He knew what he was doing, simulating innocence to draw you out of your transfixed stupor to hear those three words string from your mouth. You reach out to touch his abs, tracing over linework of ink and watching him shiver from your touch. Knowing exactly what he wants to hear, you gaze into oblique eyes and mouth the words, “I do want you”.

Goading him on, you lay back and extend your legs above you, shuffling your spandex tantalizingly slow over your skin. Jimin whistles at your show, staring at the white g-string you sported under your skirt and wandering his hands over the supple skin you expose.

“Jesus, you fucking tease. Leave the skirt.” Tittering at his request, you dig your heels into his back to propel him down towards you, his ringed hands keeping himself afloat and a winning smile winking down at you. Bless your heart you didn’t faint right then and there.

He kisses you like a man starved, lips burning hot with desire and aching to be bit—so you give him that. Sinking your teeth gently into the flesh, he punishes such action with a slap to the underneath of your thigh, then holding it close to the side of his abdomen and rolling over with you on top. Practically suffocating from lack of air, you dislodge yourself, quite reluctantly, from his mouth and soothe his complaints with brief kisses to his thick neck.

“Why didn’t we do this—ah, before?” he pants. Sucking a particularly tender spot of his jugular, he moans out and bucks into your hips. You continue your way down, leaving no inch of skin untouched until you reach where his skin ends and the nuisance of clothing began.

“You don’t make things very easy for me. Can I suck you off?”

“Fuck, don’t ask. Just do it. Turn around, though, I’ll finger you at the same time,” he offers, propping himself up on his elbows as you readjust yourself with your head towards his bulge and your ass facing him, knees keeping you up on one side of his torso. “Perfect,” he commends.

Unbuckling his ridiculously tight jeans, you hook your thumbs under the denim and whisper a quick, “Up,” to pull them off when his hips lift off the mattress. Your pride inflates at the sight of his bulge resting in the crook of his thigh, adorned by simple black boxers that hugged him in all the right spots. All but drooling at the member, you place a loving kiss where you know his head resides, mouthing at it gingerly and soaking the material with your saliva.

He ruts into your face as he watches such indecency, “You know, I should probably tell you something,” he says rather seriously, shuffling your skirt up above your ass and mischievously prodding at your sex with his thumb.

“Hmm,” you mumble, sliding his boxers down enough to suck at the pink tip that oozed of precum and spreading the liquid around with your tongue. The bitterness that came with it was all welcomed, slightly sweeter than others you’ve ever tasted and you appreciated it much more when a man this good-looking was laid out before you.

He groans, “Ever heard of a Jacob’s Ladder? Fuck, right there, underneath a bit…” You suck and nip at the skin of his frenulum, knowing he was bound to like small dosages of pain mixed with his pleasure—a guess all too correct when he cries out in ecstasy and gives your ass a light spank.

“A Jacob’s what?”

“Just—just look at it. If you don’t like it then I can just take them out,” he sighs, all too impatient to give you a rundown of whatever a Jacob’s hoo-ha entailed. You perk a brow at his vocabulary, halting your mouth and sliding his boxers the rest of the way down.

If you weren’t riled up before, you were hot, ready, and willing to beg on your knees to be stuffed with Jimin and his… accessories. You understand the term “ladder” now, three rungs of metal pierced on the underside of his shaft and glinting up at you with intimidation. You hope Jimin can’t see the now overflowing amount of arousal oozing out of your pussy, squeezing thighs together in a useless attempt of hiding yourself.

“Fuck, didn’t that hurt?” you question, hovering fingers over the balls of silver that protruded on each side in complete awe.

“Of course it did, honey. It’s all worth it, though. It’ll make you feel good too. Need me to take them out?” You shake your head a little too vigorously, earning a chuckle and his middle finger to slide in between your folds unexpectedly. Yiping at the sudden entrance, you cast a glare over his shoulder with his only response being the curve of his digit.

“C-Can I lick it? Can it get infected if you don’t use a condom?” you bombard him with questions, entirely unfamiliar with the subject and entirely enamored by it.

“It’s all healed up, baby. You can do whatever your little heart desires with it. And I would oh so much prefer going bare,” he confirms, and your heart flips at his pet name for you. That, and the thought of his thick, pierced cock penetrating you condom-less.

You wrap your lips around him once more, unafraid to take more and more of his length until you feel the cold metal—your stopping point. Call it your lack of experience, but you prefer not to catch your teeth on those piercings today. You make up for it by sliding a hand back under his scrunched boxers, fondling his balls as you bob diligently. He curses and struggles to keep his body still, digging another digit between your legs to slow your own ministrations. When it works and you moan around his cock, Jimin can’t help but want to play a little game.

“Should I give you a challenge, babe? It’s super simple. Whoever makes the other cum first gets to request something. Anything. Deal?”

“Deahl,” you muffle, swirling your tongue lavishly around his crown. Everything with Jimin was much more… intriguing. Even your first time having sex was turned into some lusty escapade of unexpected metallic embellishments and cheeky gambles. It made you feel something in your veins, wanting more and more of whatever poison Jimin was.

Taking a breath, you lick broadly over his entire shaft and scarcely taste the titanium—more than anything, it was just cold. Jimin shudders at the feeling, punishing you with a third and final finger and pushing downdowndown into a spot all too sensitive for you to focus.

Try as you might, your now pathetic attempts of sucking him off is all forgotten in your own haze of chasing your orgasm. Instead, you rest your head on his hip and writhe against his hand, fucking back onto it while he simultaneously prods your g-spot over and over again until you see stars.

“Giving up already? You were doing so well for a while, you could’ve won,” he lilts.

“Jimin, please make me cum. Oh god,” you wail, legs straining for just that final push…

“Is this what you want?” He slides his thumb across, swiping whatever he could collect and using it to knead at your neglected clit. It’s all you need, pleasure washing over you in tandem of near oversensitivity, a near scream tearing through your lungs that only comes out in ragged whines against his leg.

“Beautiful, sweetheart. Fuck, you’re ruining my sheets over here,” he criticizes, removing his hand with an obscene squelch and moving around in the bed.

The torpor you caught yourself in didn’t render what he was saying, just letting him move you about so your head rests on his pillows while he places himself between your legs.

“Jiminie,” you babble, “fuck me.” He strokes your hair away from your face and smiles, that cute puppy smile that turns his eyes into crescents. The rest of him, though, is purely sinful. Hair sweaty and pieced to perfection as his body taunted you with toned muscles.

“I don’t think you’re ready, honey,” he answers, “even though you’re dripping in your own cum.” He leans back and stares at your pussy without embarrassment, pulling your knees together and watching the juices flow even more. “I should put it to use.”

You peer up at him, curious as to whatever the hell he’s dreaming of over there and inexplicably stunned when you see his dick between your legs. “J-Jimin, what are you doing?”

“Shh, just keep them closed tight,” he orders, fucking himself between the lips of your heat and the warm skin of your thighs. You can’t help but ravish the sight of him as he slicks himself up, eyeing you down as his hips roll into you agonizingly slow. His piercings graze against your nub occasionally, warmth once again growing in your stomach.

“Fuck, you’re so soft and so wet. Who did this to you, hm?” You moan maniacally, angling your hips as to catch him and push inside, but he only laughs degradingly and intentionally misses.

“You think I’m going to fuck you if you can’t even answer this simple question?” he sneers. “Answer like a good girl, then I’ll fuck you into oblivion.”

You scramble for words, initially incoherent and struggling. “Jimin! Shit, Jimin. You made me this way. Ah, you m-make me so wet, so please put it in, put it in and—ha, aah!”

He shoves his length in like it’s all he knew what to do, your ankles to his shoulders so he can drink up your moans with his reddened lips. He was right—the piercings didn’t feel like any dick you’ve received before, it was so much better. This was pornographic, it was so good. He all but pistols into you, his cock grazing places previously untouched. Indulging in his heaven sent strokes, you cry and groan at each relentless thrust.

“Hush, baby, Yoongi’s going to hear your pretty self,” he warns, but you don’t give a shit. If anything, you moan louder with a know-all glint in your eye, testing Jimin’s patience. “Brat,” he spits.

He pounds into you repeatedly, completely removing himself before filling you up again and again and again. Between the pressure to your g-spot and the added stimulation from his Jacob’s Ladder—your stomach heaves, an unfamiliar feeling washing over your abdomen contrary to anything you’ve ever experienced.

“Oh, Jimin, wait!” you sob, halting his hips from another brutal shove a little too late. The second he pulls out, your second orgasm (and first ever untouched orgasm) of the night reigns over, briefly showering his lower stomach in your own wet arousal.

“Holy shit, that’s so fucking hot. Did you just… squirt on me?” he growls, not taking the time to hear your answer as he lifts you into his lap, legs wrapped around his muscular back and arms gripping around his shoulders for dear life.

He sinks back into you deliciously, filling you to the brim with your added weight and rutting up into you to chase his own release. Everything is soaked and sticky, Jimin’s ragged breathing and groans so close to your ear that you’re sure it’ll be engrained into your memory forever, his thrusts so deep inside you wail once more.

Consequently, the banging on the wall next to you comes as no surprise, Yoongi’s angry, “Shut the fuck up!” clear as day. Jimin waves it off.

“Don’t listen baby. Moan louder for me. Tell me where you want my cum.”

The slaps of skin become louder; it wouldn’t be long before Jimin came. “Inside, Jiminie, please. Cum inside me, pump me full,” you squeal, lust sparking inside you knowing that his roommate could hear you getting fucked senseless.

One, two, three more aching pounds before he spills into you, his pretty moans music to your ears. You flop back as soon as he takes himself out, suddenly aching all over from how much he stretched your legs and groaning at the pain.

You slap his eager hand away when he fingers his cum back into your abused lips, “That hurts, idiot.” He smiles and sucks your intermingled cum off his fingers with a pop.

“We taste good together,” he husks. Fuck. “By the way. You came first. Stay the night?”

You oblige with or without the pressure of the bet, dog-tired from your beating and not even fathoming the trek back to your own room. Jimin takes charge in your state of haziness, washing you off in his shower, replacing your uniform with a t-shirt of his own and laying you beside him on his mattress (sheets replaced and refreshed).

“You have piercings in your dick,” you state in the middle of the quiet.

Jimin snorts at the outburst, looping an arm around your side and melding his body to yours, “Yeah, is it weird?”

“… Robot dick,” you whisper, words cracking at the face of your laughter.

“Oh my god.”

“So, when you’re going through metal detectors at airports and whatever, do you have to tell them that the metal’s in your penis? Do they have to check?” Titters are awarded with light jabs to your side, which are then led to screams and kicks to his legs.

Yoongi bursts through Jimin’s door, brows stitched together in heated anger parallel to the flames of hell, “I swear to fucking god, if you two don’t quiet down I’ll mount your heads on my wall, it’ll make a great decoration.”

“What the hell, what if we were naked? Don’t just go busting through—”

“Yeah because you obviously care if I know you two are fucking. ‘Don’t listen, baby! Tell me where you want my cum, baby!’” Yoongi mocks. Pillows are flying and insults are thrown as you watch them bicker sleepily, all fading into white noise as you begin to drift off.

Sleep itself feels like a blink, so exhausted that you don’t dream. Waking in the same position that you were last conscious in, the only difference in picture is the fact that: A) the sun is shining through Jimin’s skylight and B) Jimin is no longer in bed with you.

But before you can even question where he’s run off to, his sly self sneaks back into the bedroom, shirtless and face clean from washing up just now. You don’t even hide the fact that you look down to check out his tight briefs, metal detector in your brain trying to scope it out.

“You’re awake. Sorry if I was loud,” he smiles, crawling on top of you as you stretch out like a mangled cat. You shake your head, combing his hair back with your nails as he dips down into your chest. “I like when you wear my shirts.”

“That’s pretty stereotypical,” you whisper out, voice low and raspy from your slumber. This isn’t fair, you think, he got to brush his teeth already.

He sits up and gives you A Look, making you giggle and giving you the leverage to feel up his abs as he flexes haughtily.

“I can get used to this,” you purr.

“I bet you could,” he mumbles into your neck, nipping at the places he already marked last night. He doesn’t push, just relishes in your warmth and fondles you carefully as you continue to wake up and it makes you shiver.

“I wish you would’ve done this a long time ago,” you sigh.

“You hated me.”

“You didn’t make it easy for me to like you,” you retort, gasping when he bites your collarbone, “Now—Now I like you.”

He stops abruptly and pulls away, landing on his side with an elbow and tilting his head towards you, “Well, I hope you don’t start liking me too much.”

You squint, “W-Why? Don’t tell me this was just a one night stand or anything.”

“No! I mean, not just one night or whatever. I just—this is just casual, right?”

You all but bite your tongue to keep from lashing out, “What do you mean ‘casual’? You didn’t say anything about ‘casual’.”

“Oh, Y/N, c’mon. Did you really think we should date? Look at us, baby. We’re just not… each other’s types, you know?”

It’s about time you get up, shoving aside his warm blankets and grabbing your soiled uniform from the floor, “No, Jimin. I don’t know. I thought you were being genuine with me.”

“Hey, no, don’t leave,” he grabs your arm before you leave his bedroom, “Okay, there was some miscommunication. I’m not trying to be mean. Can I just… I don’t know, think about it? I’m just not used to this.”

Looking into his eyes for some sort of confirmation, your tensions subside. “I’m not a toy. If you don’t want to be with me, just say it.” The hurt he feels in your tone breaks his heart, for once. Would he really be willing to try something he knows won’t work?

For you, maybe.

“I do like you, Y/N. Just give me some time.” He pulls your arm once more, hoping you’ll stay. But you draw the line and pry his hand off politely.

“Of course I’ll give you time. I’ll see you later, okay?” He nods understandingly. He can’t feel butthurt when he’s the one putting you on ice, he knows that. So Jimin watches you leave in his shirt, mind clouded more so than when you arrived.

a/n: yay! you made it through the first part! if you liked it, feel free to let me know or ask any questions to the characters! xx, selene

[hellreads]

Hi! Can you suggest some good immersive fics that will make me feel all the feels? Even better if they're series! Thank you I love your blog!!

hi there sweetie, thank you for loving this blog, lemme love you too!💕💖✨ hmm this is tricky, to ask me of all people for immersive fic recommendations because I always immerse (to me reading something I enjoy and immersing in it makes me feel like I’m an actress playing the part so whatever genre it is watch me get into it 100%) but I’ll try and make a list of fics one per member, where I immersed myself through and through (shit this is harder than I thought, btw WII stands for why I immersed lol ~ list under the cut) 😅 | 🍒

➴ Kim Namjoon❥ Let the Villain Win by @lemonjoonah​➴ Author/Yandere!AU | Author!Namjoon x Agent!Reader | One-Shot➴ Kim Namjoon, famous author and your childhood friend has been keeping a secret from you. His new book treads on such dark themes that he’s finding it difficult to write. Excited by the prospect of a sinister plot you offer him a piece of advice, “Let the villain win…”➴ WII: I love Misery by Stephen King plus its movie adaption and LTVW gave me reverse Misery vibes, I know most people wouldn’t want to put themselves or immerse into stories like this but the adrenaline rush of being in MC’s shoes? delicious, I felt like as soon as Namjoon’s plan came to fruition my body astral projected to see him in all his yandere glory.

➴ Kim Seokjin❥ In the Bleak Midwinter by @pcyheartgirlx​➴ Idol/Prostitution!AU | Idol!Seokjin x CEO!Reader x Idol!Chanyeol | Series➴ We’re all whores, we just sell different parts of ourselves.You own a multi-billion dollar company, servicing the biggest names in kpop, in more ways than one. Under the name “Starlight Catering”, you, your best friends, Damon and Maya, and your hundreds of workers provide stress relief for idols.You have partially retired, not because you didn’t want to, but because Chanyeol was your muse. He was all that you had time for and all you needed. Until Jin came along.So what happens when you mix fire and ice?You get smoke and all the lines are blurred.➴ WII: tbh starting this fic I never really knew what I was getting into, all I saw was Kim Seokjin and I was sold, I was never a Park Chanyeol stan before reading this but I ended up being one, there’s a lot going on in this series but to immerse and be in a love triangle between the two men and feel the push and pull plus intense passionate emotions they’re willing to shower you with will tear you apart, but don’t worry there are two doors at the end of the story you get to choose between Jin or Chanyeol. 

➴ Min Yoongi❥ Dead Leaves by wrienne➴ Detective/Infidelity!AU | Detective Inspector!Yoongi x Homicide Detective!Reader x Teacher!Jimin | Series➴ In which you (reader) are a homicide detective about to face the biggest hurdle both of your career and life.Married to probably the kindest but most boring man you’ve ever met and living in a town where nothing ever seems to happen means life for you is dull. Dull enough to drive you crazy with boredom and dissatisfaction. However, life changes abruptly when your old boss retires and a new man takes his place - a man you used to love (and sleep very regularly with) more than a decade ago. Especially when your husband comes home smelling of perfume, you’re unable to resist your more carnal urges and dead women start showing up across the city with unnerving frequency.➴ WII: I have always had a thing for working in forensics, profiling people, investigating crime scenes, and basically any investigator/detective/analyst work and this story right here helped me get that feel because there are actual cases they work on here with vivid descriptions to help that wild imagination of yours *wink* + the whole infidelity affair is a mystery you’ll have to use your deduction skills.

➴ Jung Hoseok❥ Bad Guy by @sweetbunnykook​➴ Mob/Infidelity!AU | Mob Boss!Jin x Wife!Reader x Mob!Yoongi x Mob!Hoseok | Series➴ After a brutal attack in Hong Kong, your marriage with Kim Seokjin cracks as secrets begin to surface and a series of betrayals find their way into the veins of the Hidden Tigers. Although Jin’s devotion endures, in his own definition, the reality of being a mob wife may be too much for you to bear.➴ WII: this will put you in a rollercoaster ride of emotions there are actually three members here that will make things quite hard for you, but I have to say BG Hoseok is definitely one of my favorite characterizations of him, though there will be a push and pull of emotions once you get further into the story.. also, you’ll have to go through so much because immersing in this one will hurt a lot to the point where your heart is almost numbed.

➴ Park Jimin❥ Neighbors by @jkeuphoriadreamland​➴ Neighbor/Stalker!AU | Stalker!Jimin x Neighbor!Reader | Series➴ Finally achieving your successes in life you never expected the distraction that came with your new hot neighbor. He, however, had been trying to get your attention for a much different reason.➴ WII: hey it’s ya girl danger lover (my tag line lol), seriously immersing in this one will kinda make you wonder about MC and her choices as if Jimin cast a spell on her, there is this psychological manipulation he uses on her and it will drive you to madness because you will still bend to him and find him irresistible + the kinks here = wildt.

➴ Kim Taehyung❥ Clandestine by @ditzymax​➴ Assassin!AU | Assassin!Taehyung x Assassin!Kinsoo x BF!Jungkook | Series➴ As a professional assassin, Kim Kinsoo has many shrouded secrets in her life. Some of them she shares openly with her loving boyfriend, but there are other things he must never know➴ WII: now I know you’re probably wondering if it’s possible to immerse in fics with named OC? as I said I’m an actress who plays the part when reading and to immerse into the enigma that is Kinsoo is a wonderful experience, this belongs to the list of the intense fics I immersed into and if you’re the type to go all out when immersing no matter what genre or theme (taboo) the story contains you’ll enjoy the intensity of this one because you get everyone’s POV as you go through making you understand each character better and there is actual assassin work here if you enjoy the stealth way, you’ll appreciate Taehyung and Kinsoo’s work and the people that work for them.

➴ Jeon Jungkook (I’ll list five why not? I have read way too many JJK fics lol)❥ Right of Way by fringesofsanity➴ Infidelity!AU | Cheater!Jungkook x Cheater/GF!Reader x BF!Jimin | Series➴ In theory, things were simple: your best friend was Jungkook’s girlfriend while your boyfriend, Jimin, was Jungkook’s best friend. In reality, things weren’t always that simple. And mutually exclusive.➴ WII: if there’s one story I will never shut up about? it’s this one, I always recommend this to friends, this is the perfect depiction of having a taste of your own medicine in fic form, immersing in this one will make you fall for Jungkook and hope for your own ending, but this won’t sugarcoat anything for you and that’s what I love about this story, but tbh I still think of my own ending every single night. sighhhhh.

❥ When You Least Expect It by @johobi​➴ F2L!AU | BFF!Taehyung x BFF/GF!Reader x BF!Jungkook | Series➴ You’re in love with your childhood friend, Taehyung. The problem is, you treasure your friendship with him far too much to ever risk losing it. Oh, and he’s quite the Casanova. At your wits’ end with feelings you can no longer hide as diligently as you once did, you ask him to set you up with someone, anyone, in a last ditch attempt to avoid a heartbreaking conversation.➴ WII: okay, me putting this under the list for Jungkook must expose which side I’m on but that’s not the reason why this is under his name, it’s here because I love his WYLEI characterization so much and if you’ve been reading this series too, you’re probably head over heels in love with the boy too? and immersing in this, feeling all the ways he changed MC’s life and the way he loves her? stop it i’m crying right now. T_T

❥ Only You by @sweetbunnykook​➴ Stalker/Lovers!AU | Stalker/BF!Jungkook x Noona/GF!Reader x Ex-Fiance!Namjoon x BFF!Seokjin | Series➴ Jeon Jungkook, your wedding photographer, helps you escape on your big day upon learning about a secret your groom-to-be kept hidden. You soon fall for this young, passionate photographer. However, you underestimated just how much he was willing to reciprocate that love. Maybe, you think, he’s loving you just a little too much.➴ WII: ahhhh to be Jungkook’s Noona, I love immersing in this because there’s so much intense passion here, and if you allow yourself to fall into the role you will understand the statement that Love is Blind that people will overlook anything their lover is involved in because so what if they did this or that? they only have hearts in their eyes, the manipulation here might get to you irl, like wow, seriously this was so brilliantly written, how can you not love Jungkook and give him everything right?  

❥ DNA by @btssavedmylifeblr​➴ Dystopian/Breeding!AU | Stud!Jungkook x Cow!Reader | Series➴ Jungkook’s career is in jeopardy when he begins falling for a woman he’s supposed to impregnate.➴ WII: the futuristic feels? amazing description and details? unique universe? if you’re up for those things this is one amazing read you should be immersing yourself into, I’m so in love with the way this was written, Bee and her galaxy mind will challenge you into painting all of her words in your head and you’ll have an advanced futuristic universe where babies are manufactured and modified to your liking but if you mix feelings into the process and what do you get? ugh, this is just brilliant!

❥ The Fitting by @noona-la-la-la​➴ Idol!AU | Idol!Jungkook x Stylist/Noona!Reader | Series➴ The younger Jungkook has a workplace crush on you, but you let the flattery get to you and make a proposition you can’t take back.➴ WII: who can ever say no to idol!jungkook? prepare to immerse into this tension-filled romance with Jungkook, laced with complications of keeping a secret “relationship“, so this is what happens when fire meets ice at work, and this being an idol!au will give you a glimpse of how they probably keep their affairs hidden from everyone and it can be stressful, full of jealousy, and fights.

➴ OT7 ❥ Void by @btssavedmylifeblr​➴ Space!AU | Space Crew!OT7 x Space Crew!Reader | Series➴ You are the only female crew member on a 12-year space mission with seven handsome men. The sexual tension is real, y’all.➴ WII: BEST.OT7.FIC.EVER. so why not immerse yourself and be the only girl in their universe right? this has so much sexual tension since they only have you sis, but it’s fun to get all the attention tho there will be stressful and trying times, the boys will compensate *wink*wink* 

❥ A Hundred Percent Human by wrienne➴ Hybrid/Host-Club!AU | Hybrid!OT7 x Human/Owner!Reader | Series➴ In which you (reader) are forced to take care of seven hybrids in a twist of fate.After your estranged mother passes away, you’re left with an unwanted will and the heavy burden of responsibility. Although you’re desperate not to stray from the familiar path you thought was laid out in front of you with a fully human boyfriend who loves you more than anything, your life is thrown upside down once more after another unfortunate incident (that may or may not have to do with said boyfriend) occurs.Drunk and down on life, you finally decide to deal with the house and the unsavory business your mother left behind. However, to your shock, you find that seven very different hybrids are included with both the house - and the business. Seven hybrids you never even met before - even less agreed to take care of.Set in the not too distant future where infertility has become mankind’s greatest issue. Will contain sexual content.➴ WII: what’s an ot7 fic without tension? majority of the boys are dog hybrids with certain classes and MC has no fucking clue how to deal with hybrids let alone seven of them with two of them being special classes/cases, this will be a little slow-paced as the story starts more on their background/history as hybrids and they’re still getting comfy with one another, which I think is a great way to pull readers in and grow attached to the hybrids.

❥ Moth to Flame by @bang-to-the-tan➴ Vampire!AU | Vampire!OT7 x Human!Reader | Series➴ Robbed of your memories and intended as a birthday present for a deadly creature of the night, you unwittingly become the center of a territorial dispute between two covens of vampires. Tensions are rising and the brothers are getting hungry.➴ WII: how can we pass up on vampire!ot7? this is a brilliant story that will have the same haze effect on you as the reader, I immersed hardcore on this one and I’m like who am I? it’s weird when you get affected and get all the phantom feels from reading alone you know? and this will affect you so much I swear to god it’s you literally transported and astral projected into this universe and it’s so pleasing but also frightening to be in the middle of two covens.

❥ Physcom by @teawithkpop➴ Dystopian/Sex Worker!AU | Idol!OT7 x Physical Companion!Reader | Series➴ AU where live-in Physical Companions are provided to k-pop groups so the members can relieve their sexual related stress and tension - around their busy schedules, of course. You are one such “PhysCom”. However, complications arise when the BTS members start harboring romantic feelings for you. Feelings you’re not sure you can reject with any believable amount of conviction. Such a scandal could result in getting both you and them fired and exposed, ruining any future career options for all parties involved… it turns out the “com” in PhysCom might as well stand for complications.➴ WII: this has an interesting take on being Bangtan’s “companion” and to immerse into this one and watching everyone catch feelings and defy the rules for a chance at romance will overwhelm you, you a mere “companion” now the object of their affection and they’re willing to do anything and everything for you even if it means risking it all. 

p.s. I suggest you go through my FICSHELF to view all of the stories I ever read so you get to choose the exact story you want to read, the shelf contains story links (Tumblr and ao3 if any) with summary, warnings, and more info about the fic (character role, genre, au, word count). 

[istheresomebodywhocanimagine]

Pretty please, would you ship me (BoRhap and Queen)? I’m a girl 😀 It may take me a bit of time to open up and so I come as shy initially, but these are just my trust issues and insecurities kicking in. I love listening to music with Queen, Metallica and Rammstein being my top artists, but I’m not fan of concerts because I don’t like crowds. It may seem strange but I adore pigeons and have some coming to me every day to feed. I daydream a lot m, but don’t mind the hard work at all. Sarcastic...

god i’m finally getting some things out jesus trist on a tross

i also wish i knew more about allen so i could include him in these things but alas i am a dumb

ships below the cut!!!!1!1111

For BoRhap, I ship you with Ben Hardy!

The main reason I chose Ben is because of your music taste (it fucking rocks tbh i love ur music taste), but I also think you have a duality that is far more similar to Ben’s than to any other BoRhap guy. 

Ben outwardly seems like a very cookie-cutter masculine type, but just like you, he has his insecurities and moments where he craves being alone/not being overwhelmed by the masses.

I think you two would meet when you’re feeding pigeons!

Hear me out - you’re in the park, early in the morning, seated on a lone bench. It’s a bit foggy, and the occasional stranger strolls by, but none really take notice until a guy in a cutoff and shorts comes jogging by. He slows to a stop when he notices the bag of bird seed in your hand and the flock of pigeons just chilling around you, completely ignoring him while one fed rather calmly from your hand.

You register his presence, but only give him a quick, lopsided smile, assuming he was just stopping to gawk for a moment before moving on like everyone else. But he makes his way to the bench next to you instead, transfixed by the sheer amount of pigeons just waddling around you and briefly flapping their wings angrily at the stocky, broad blonde who’s pulling his earbuds out as he takes a seat.

“Have you, by any chance, seen Ace Ventura: Pet Detective?” he questioned, still breathing a bit heavily from what seemed like a pretty intense jog. He was flushed, very red in the face, but you could see that he was handsome, well-built, and his voice was enchantingly deep.

Green eyes met yours as you looked up from the birds, and you began to put up your guard, biting your lip for a moment before replying in the affirmative. “The one with Jim Carrey? I have. Quite good. Though I prefer The Truman Show more.”

“The Truman Show?” The strange man next to you mulled over it for a moment, then chuckled once as he nodded. “That’s a good one too. But I was asking because it seems like you should have been the star of that movie instead, considering... all this,” he observed, gesturing towards the pigeons. 

“Oh, me?” you reiterated, nervously smiling and sitting the bag down between the two of you as you looked out to the birds. “Not a chance. These little babes only like me for my food, if I’m honest.”

Watching the way one pigeon nonchalantly landed next to you and settled in, only ruffling its feathers a bit and not pecking angrily for food that didn’t exist, Ben nodded, completely unconvinced. Then, he looked down to the bag, pursing his lips. “D’you mind if I....”

When he trailed off, still looking at the bag, you giggled softly and nodded, pushing it towards him gently and retracting your hand shyly when he reached out for the bag. Wordlessly, you watched as he took out some food and held it out for a bird that was in front of him. It regarded him warily, only taking the food when he finally dropped it on the ground.

Sending you a knowing look, the blonde straightened back up and swiped his hands together, wiping off the excess food and letting the other birds flock in for the scraps. “Uh huh. It’s definitely the food,” he deadpanned, making you blush lightly and look down at your lap as he called you out on your excessive modesty.

“Off day?” you suggested weakly, but that only made him roll his eyes playfully, and you sighed in defeat. “Alright, you got me, mate.”

“You can call me Ben, if you’d like,” he offered, and you chewed on the inside of your lip as you looked up to see his green eyes still watching you inquisitively, the wondrous look in them absolutely captivating to you. “What should I call you?”

“Y/N,” you murmured, fiddling with your hands in your lap as the bird next to you cooed quietly, distracting you for a moment. And when Ben shifted a bit, moving to tuck in an earbud that had fallen out of his pocket, the bird ruffled and flew off. You watched it go, and Ben’s eyes never left yours, the dreamy, far off look that passed through your eyes having only piqued his interest in you. 

“I’ve never seen you around here before. Not a big neighborhood, feel like we would have ran into each other sooner or later, and I’d remember if I saw a pretty face like yours.” You blushed even more at the fact that he was interested in getting to know you/flirting, which simultaneously set off slight alarms and wedding bells in your head at the same time, utterly confusing you. But you composed yourself as best as you could, trying not to show on your face how conflicted you were. “Are you new around here?”

“Yes, just moved into the flat complex east of here, across the street from that corner store that always has the cat sleeping in the window.” You smiled as you recalled the image of the sleeping cat, how it always swatted at the birds that flew by the window. 

“The orange cat?” Ben asked, suddenly seeming excited, and you furrowed your eyebrows as you nodded, both of you saying the cat’s name at the same time.

“Jean Grey!”

“My god, I think we live in the same complex! Now we really have no excuse not to know each other,” Ben laughed, and your heart started racing as you realized what avenues this opened. The gears were whirring behind Ben’s eyes, and that simultaneously excited and terrified you. But maybe it wouldn’t be that bad, you thought as you looked into the fit young blonde’s eyes.

It wasn’t. After some convincing on both your part and Ben’s part, you actually went out with him a few times. You found out he was an actor, and he had a prospective role in the area (thankfully) that he couldn’t tell you about until he’d for sure been cast, but he kept telling you how much you were going to love it when he saw your Spotify playlists abundant with Queen.

By the time Ben had definitely landed the role as Roger, you had already agreed to be his girlfriend. He was charming, attentive, protective, and read you very easily. So, he knew when you were off in your own world, or when large groups of people made you uneasy, and he was able to easily shift the situation into something closer to ideal, if not perfect. 

And he was a damn good cuddler. That alone was enough to tempt you to say yes.

He wanted to surprise you with his role as Roger, so he refused to tell you until it was time for the first day of table reading - the only hint you had to go off of was his incessant drumming/absences for lessons. 

Of course, it would be hard to hide much from you past the table read, as he’d be reading the script in your presence quite a bit as he usually spent inordinate amounts of time with you, watching you feed pigeons on your balcony.

So when he dragged you to the upper end of London on an early Monday morning, making you take the day off work, you were bubbling over with anticipation. All kinds of dreams of what this could possibly be could never prepare you for the absolute shock when you walked into the building and saw the sign on the door that read “BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY”

“So... what d’you think?” Ben asked, noticing the mind-blown expression on your face as you stared at the sign. You were so shocked, in fact, you didn’t even hear him at first, taking a few moments to even register than he’d spoke.

Looking over to him, you slowly broke out into a huge smile, jumping on him with a hug and squealing quietly. “You’ve got to be fucking joking? This is the part you’ve been hiding from me? I heard that there would be a movie about Queen in the works, but God, I never expected...” Trailing off, you stared at him in amazement. 

Ben wrapped you up in his arms easily, picking you up off the ground for a moment and kissing the side of your head before letting you back down, but keeping you in his embrace as he rocked back and forth with you. “They’ve picked me to be the drummer, Roger. I get to meet him sometime this week. I’m pretty stoked, if I’m going to be honest.”

“God, I’m so stoked for you!” you agreed excitedly, taking his face in your hands and pressing a quick congratulatory kiss to his lips. “Queen is such an iconic band, I can’t believe you get the chance to work on this project! Might I say, I’m quite jealous of you.”

“Don’t be too jealous, you’re not the one that’ll have to wear a long ass wig to play the part,” he reminded you, and you swooned openly at the thought, making him frown playfully. “Hey, you don’t like my hair now?”

“Oh, shut up, you know I love it,” you dismissed quickly, grinning as you wrapped your arm around his waist, starting to walk in with him. “I just.... send me lots of selfies with the wigs on. For science, I swear. Nothing else.”

“For science? You’re full of it, love.”

And for Queen, I ship you with John Deacon!

Uh, two sarcastic queens together? Hell yes.

You and John Deacon were made to be together. John’s gentle, non-abrasive demeanor pairs well with your shyness and tendencies towards introversion. He is a homebody just like you, and craves isolation over big crowd settings in almost all situations.  

For this reason, I think you would have met Deacon through Brian. Brian seemed like he was a very grounded, introverted guy when you first met him, so you quickly befriended him and realized upon doing so that there was an extroverted side to him that was often overwhelming for you. He didn’t mind crowds too much, so when you tried to turn down a party at Fred’s in favor of studying, Brian basically forced you to go, not understanding your aversion.

So that’s how you ended up on a fire escape outside Brian, Roger, and Freddie’s apartment, leaning forward against the cool metal and wishing you hadn’t agreed to stay over on the promise that Brian would sleep on the floor and you’d get his bed. It was late, and you were contemplating going home as you stared at a pigeon the floor below you, perched on the metal and only moving every so often when the breeze nudged it sideways.

You were so focused on the bird, you barely heard the window slide open, but a surprised ‘Oh’ from a stranger lulled you out of your daydreams as you looked back to find a long-haired brunette man you recognized as the new bass player peeking out at you. 

“No vacancies,” you teased, laughing when he flushed a bit and apologized. “I’m just joking. I don’t mind if you come out here.”

Crawling out of the window carefully, the unfamiliar man joined you on the fire escape, sitting on the steps opposite you as you turned around to face him, seeing partial recognition light up on his exceptionally young face.

“You’re Brian’s friend, Y/N, right?” When you nodded, he smiled a bit, holding out his hand and shaking yours firmly when it you took it. “I’m John Deacon. Brian was just trying to find you to introduce us, said he was afraid you’d hit your social quota for the night already.”

“That man knows me too well,” you laughed, mainly to yourself, and you looked out towards the city for a moment before glancing back at John, who was playing with his hands quietly, small callouses evident on the pads of his fingers. Furrowing your eyebrows, you were suddenly curious. “Why are you out here?”

“Afraid I’ve hit my social quota as well,” he chuckled, ducking his head a bit before looking up at you. “M’not great with crowds.”

“That makes two of us.” A small grin spread across your face, making Deacon grin back as he bashfully dropped his gaze to his hands again. “So, John Deacon, if you’re not great with crowds, why’d you come tonight?”

“Roger dragged me here.” You made a noise of sympathy as you recognized the situation as being painfully similar to your own. “He thinks I should be more outgoing and chaotic if I’m going to fit in the band better.”

“If I were you, I wouldn’t worry too much about what Roger thinks. He doesn’t do much of it, anyways,” you remarked sarcastically, earning a snort out of the brunette opposite you, and the genuine smile on both of your faces signaled the start of a long friendship that would effortlessly transition into more. 

Deacon was remarkably good at making the slow-burn transition from friends to lovers as comfortable as possible for you. First, it started out with heads on shoulders, leaning against each other, and then he’d let you rest your legs across his when you were lounging on the couch with him. 

Then, there were innocent cuddling moments, turned into extended cuddle sessions, which turned into moments spend on Deacon’s lap while the boys worked in the studio, all sharing knowing looks about how aloof and oblivious you were to the clear partial feelings you had for one another.

So, when John suddenly sprang the question on you one late night at the studio, it didn’t seem so sudden at all. You were curled up against his chest on the couch in the engineer’s booth, listening to Freddie go over his vocals for what seemed like the millionth time, and your eyelids were getting heavy.

He could feel your heart rate slowing, your breathing softening as you slowly drifted in and out of consciousness, and the peaceful, dreamlike state that you were in had his heart swelling so much that he couldn’t stop himself before he asked.

“Y/N, would you like to be my girlfriend?”

Of course you reacted, but not in the way that people usually react when they get asked out. To any of the men inside of the recording area, it could have just looked like John had mentioned that you need milk back at your flat since you’d drank it all, the way you smiled lazily and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Yeah. I’d like that... Can we go home soon so I can cuddle my boyfriend?”

Deacon laughed at that, running a hand over the back of your head and nodding when you glanced up at him sleepily. “Yes, we can go home soon. Wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.”

oops that one was kINDAa short OHW ELL

[asroarke]

Hey Alex. Your fics completely cheer up whenever I'm in a depressive state. I've read them all so many times. They're incredible. Unfortunately, my boyfriend broke up with me a month ago I guess hes an ex now and I'm confused and broken and Ive been listening non stop to ed sheeran's song "Happier". I was wondering if you could write post break up bellarke fic based kinda on the song, but with a happy ending from bellamys pov? I need a pick me up and a little bit of hope in my life tbh..

I’m really sorry to hear about your break up! That’s rough. Also, side note, that song made me cry. I had never heard it before. So, the happy ending is kind of ambiguous in this fic, but I fully intended for you to assume that the last conversation goes well and they end up back together. I hope you like it! It ended up being more angsty than I had originally planned. [ao3]

He wasn’t planning on stopping by Octavia’s party, using thefact that he was working late as his excuse. But when Pike announced thatBellamy could clock out early, he knew that he had to at least swing by. IfOctavia found out that his schedule opened up and he didn’t stop by, he’d neverhear the end of it.

It wasn’t like Clarke ever stayed at parties long, anyway.He probably wouldn’t even see her. She likely left an hour ago, since she was probablytoo tired from a shift at the hospital or had one early tomorrow morning. So,he took a few deep breaths before heading over to his sister’s apartment.

The party was still raging on when he walked through the door,and Miller immediately put a beer in his hand. “How have you been?” he asked,and Bellamy just shrugged. Miller looked over at Jackson, and Bellamy didn’tmiss the concerned look they exchanged. Yeah, they were worried about him, buthe was fine.

“There you are!” Octavia shouted before he heard the soundof her loud feet rushing toward him. He turned to be ready for her hug, chucklingquietly at her excitement to see him. “Isn’t this a fun party? You’re so happyyou came, right?” she asked, her words slurring together, and he had to fightnot to roll his eyes. She was drunk.

“Yes,” he replied, patting her on the head as he surveyedthe room. No sign of Clarke, thank God. He wouldn’t know what he would say toher if he saw her again. It was inevitable that he would, so he probably shouldfigure something out. But he needed more time to get over the sting of losingher.

He plastered on a smile as Octavia dragged him through theapartment by his hand and introduced him to all her work friends he hadn’t metyet. She ditched him to go whine to Lincoln about something, and Bellamysettled in next to Murphy as he downed the last of his beer. He looked over hisshoulder into the kitchen, spotting those fake margarita beer drinks that Octaviahad recently gotten upset with and let out a sigh. “The good stuff is out onthe patio,” Murphy explained, and he let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank God,” he muttered before making his way out there.

He probably should have known that there would be one or twopartygoers who would be out there. It’s the only quiet place to be at anOctavia Blake party. Bellamy had ducked out here enough times to know that.

But nothing could have prepared him for finding Clarke andRoan out there together.

He freezes for a moment at the sight of Clarke curledup against him with her legs in his lap. It took him a moment to realize thatshe was asleep, and he probably would have laughed at the fact that ClarkeGriffin fell asleep at yet another party if it weren’t for the fact that shewas literally sleeping on Roan.

He clenched his jaw as he fished out a beer from the cooler.He shouldn’t actually be surprised. He and Clarke broke up. She was going tostart seeing other people. He couldn’t have pushed her away any harder, if hewas being honest with himself. But Bellamy had somehow put the prospect ofClarke moving on out of his thoughts, meaning he was blindsided by this.

“Oh hey, man,” Roan said, tearing his eyes away from hisphone to nod at Bellamy. Bellamy nodded back, grinding his teeth together as hedid. Without a word, he walked back into the apartment and took a seat at theempty kitchen table, one of the few spots in the room that gave him a decentview of what was happening on the patio. Maybe he just wanted to torturehimself, but he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off the two of them as Roan’shand traced up and down Clarke’s back.

“Didn’t you start this whole thing?” Jasper asked as he saton the table, swinging his legs back and forth so that he occasionally hitBellamy.

“Yes,” he huffed, and Clarke started to stir outside. Sherubbed her eyes as she pushed herself up, and Roan put his phone down to saysomething that caused Clarke to erupt into laughter. His chest panged as he sawher bright smile. He couldn’t even remember the last time he saw her smile likethat.

“So, why are you acting like she broke up with you?” Jaspermuttered, and Bellamy took his eyes off Clarke for a moment to glare up at him.

“Jasper, I’m not in the mood,” he snapped. When his eyesreturned to the window, Roan and Clarke had stood up and were facing away fromhim. Both her hands were braced on the railing in front of her, but Roan wasstill rubbing her back.

The fact that it was Roan shouldn’t have surprised Bellamy.He had always had the suspicion that Roan was attracted to Clarke, and it wasn’tlike he could blame Clarke for becoming interested in him once she becamesingle. He was an attractive guy, one that her mother would definitely approveof. He’d probably fit more into Clarke’s world than Bellamy ever did.

Jasper was still mumbling something when Bellamy pushed awayfrom the table. He wasn’t going to sit there all night watching theex-girlfriend he was still in love with flirt with Roan, so he ducked into thekitchen, which was empty. He hopped up onto the counter and let out a breath.

He tried to distract his mind, but the image of themtogether kept popping up in his head again. Bellamy could see them together soclearly, now. Roan didn’t pick fights with Clarke like Bellamy did, no, he wasfar more relaxed and easygoing. He was also not the kind of guy to screw aroundwhen it came to talking about how he felt. Clarke must love that since shedoesn’t have to guess what Bellamy’s thinking anymore or deal with his freakouts when things got a little too serious. She found herself someone who wouldbe upfront with her, and it’s what she deserves.

He pressed his lips together as he heard the patio doorswing open. “Jasper, are you ready for more shots?” he heard Roan tease, andBellamy threw his head back. God, Roan was even more fun around Bellamy’sfriends. “Clarke?”

“Oh, God no,” Clarke giggled, and it was such a sweet, happysound… and why wouldn’t it be? Clarke seemed to be happy, probably happier thanshe had been with Bellamy. There was a quiet mumbling out there as Bellamyheard Jasper skip after Roan. “What?” he heard Clarke say, and he hit his headagainst the cabinet behind him.

He fucked up. God, he fucked up. He was falling too hard andfast for her and got scared. Everything with Clarke felt so natural and normal,and it scared him how easily he could get comfortable with her, especiallygiven how things went with Echo and Gina in the past.

All he could remember was how much he hurt before, and hisstupid, stupid self did what healways did: pushed her away before she could push him away. And now she was gone.He couldn’t blame anyone but himself for the way he picked that fight.

He was taking another swig of his drink when Clarke strodeinto the kitchen, freezing as soon as she saw him. Her brows furrowed as shegave him a once over, and his heart pounded as he waited for her to saysomething.

“Octavia said you had to work tonight,” she finally settledon, and he fought not to roll his eyes at the fact that the two of them couldonly seem to make small talk now.

“My shift ended early, so I stopped by,” he shrugged, andshe nodded along. Her brows were still furrowed, and he could tell that she hadsomething to say to him. But of course, his jealousy was still festering underthe surface and he said, “You seemed to have a good nap outside.”

Her eyes widened at him, and he immediately regretted it.She was free to do whatever the hell she wants, after all. He shouldn’t try tomake her feel bad for moving on. But of course, he always said the wrong thingat every given opportunity.

“It was a long day,” she settled on, and he nodded along, keepinghis eyes fixed on the almost empty beer in his hand. “Actually, I was just aboutto leave. I should go find your sister before I go,” she muttered beforeturning to leave, and Bellamy hit his head on the cabinet again, cursinghimself for pushing her away again.

He listened as Clarke gave her goodbyes to their friends. Montysaid something to make her laugh, and he found a smile tugging at his lips whenhe heard that beautiful sound. She talked with Harper, he thinks, for a minute…and the ease with which she speaks to everyone causes his chest to pang. Sheused to be able to talk to him that way.

Maybe he should find a way to be happy for her. After all,she seemed happier now with Roan. And Clarke deserved to be happy. He wantedher to be so happy.

When the front door shut, he let out a breath. He survivedseeing Clarke tonight, barely. The panging in his chest probably wouldn’t goaway any time soon, though he wasn’t sure if it ever left.

He was coming up with excuses to leave the party too whenRoan came into the kitchen. “What’s wrong with you?” Roan snorted.

“Nothing,” Bellamy lied.

“So, it has nothing to do with the fact that you saw me withyour ex?” he asked, raising his eyebrows as he filled a cup with ice.

“Clarke can date whoever she wants,” he replied.

“I’m not dating Clarke,” Roan corrected, and Bellamy hatedhow easy his own face gave his reaction away. Roan smirked at him, pleased thathe had finally broken Bellamy out of his fake indifference. “I don’t make ahabit of dating girls who are still in love with their exes.”

“Clarke isn’t—”

“She is,” he interrupted. “It’s annoying, honestly. Fulloffense intended, you were a dick to her in the end.”

“I know,” he huffed, throwing his head back. He didn’t needthis lecture from Roan when he had been giving it to himself all night. “It’show I know she isn’t still hung up on me.”

“Interesting,” Roan muttered as he walked back toward thedoor, “then, why is she still in the parking lot, crying in her car?” Bellamy’shead snapped up to look at Roan, whose eyebrows were raised at him as he lookedover his shoulder. “Don’t fuck it up this time,” he huffed before walking backout to the party. Bellamy jumped to his feet, abandoning his beer on thecountertop before striding toward the front door. He didn’t bother tellinganyone where he went. Everyone was too drunk to notice he was gone, anyway.

When he got down to the parking lot, he found Clarke’s carin the very back. He jogged toward her car, and as he got closer, he could seeher talking on the phone as she wiped a few tears from her cheek. He felt sickat the realization that he was the reason she was crying. He never wanted tohurt her. After all, he loved her… probably a little too much. He was justscared.

Clarke’s eyes widened when she spotted him, and she said goodbyeto whoever she had been talking to. He stood still as she pushed herself out ofthe car, her brows furrowing in confusion as she looked up at him again. “Whatare you—”

“I miss you,” he interrupted, and her eyes softened. “I’msorry. I know I don’t get to just… Fuck,” he mumbled. He hadn’t thought throughwhat he would say to her at all. He hadn’t been thinking when he rushed downafter her. All he heard was that she was upset because of him, and he couldn’t stayaway.

“I miss you too,” she said before he could stutter anythingelse out. Her blue eyes were staring back at him, still a bit red from crying.All he wanted to do was close the distance between them and pull her to hischest.

“Can we talk?” he asked, and she bit down on her lip. Herchest was rising and falling slowly as she took a few deep breaths.

It felt like hours had passed before she whispered, “Yeah.”

A flicker of hope scorched through him as the two of them satdown on the curb. He was going to tell her everything that he didn’t saybefore. He was going to make it right. And maybe, just maybe, she’d let him tryto make her happy again.

[white-reaper]

* romance headcanons.

name:          Arima Kishou

nickname:           too many and they are generally from an Omake. Affectionate nicknames are rare and he doesn’t particularly care for them. 

gender:           cis-gendered male. he/him.

romantic orientation:           panromantic, more inclined to demiromantic. He doesn’t fall in love easily and he, if he’s really asked, would mention that falling in love is something he only reluctantly wants to do, as the prospect and knowledge that he could lose his beloved one is something he only barely wants to deal with, even though that he seems rather distanced from his surrounding by a large capacity. Alas, if it happens, he does not stop it and makes personal arrangements and adjusts to his partner flawlessly. 

preferred pet names:           same as with the question for the nicknames, he does not particularly care and his partners will find affectionate names for him in however way they see fit. 

relationship status:           he is generally partnered in his verses.

favorite canon/fandom ship:           with my Take tbh

favorite crossover ship:           the one with Kain 

opinion on true love:           it was only a nice concept for him before he actually went into a committed partnership. Before that happened he would have said that this is something he does enjoy seeing in others but doesn’t believe it would come upon himself. This point of view changed by the time his ships have developed, so he actually does believe in it and cherishes it. They pan out differently but he is truly a person who loves with everything that he has and who would call it a term of ‘true love’ and stand by it in an unwavering fashion, no matter if he’s questioned about his choices, about the happenings around them or about what would come in the future. 

opinion on love at first sight:           he does not believe in it. Being very reluctant when it comes to love and romantic affections if not in a committed relationship, he actually does not search and does see people as ‘neutral’ as only possible when it comes to meeting them. Arima can feel attraction to someone just from their looks [ as normal as that is in this world ], but he would never say there’s ‘love’ right from only looking someone in the eyes. 

how ‘romantic’ are they?:           once in a relationship, he will do whatever there is to actually make his partner happy. He’s fulfilling a lot of things ‘naturally’, so it’s hard to say if he tries to be romantic or if he’s just doing specific things to ensure that the person he’s with is actually happy and content. To be honest, it’s a bit of both. Those general things like cooking dinner, setting up a bath, buying and bringing home flowers, mostly before his partner is at home, are all things he does because he wants to make them happy [ and in both ships, Take and Kain are appreciative of such ]. Going out for dinner or for dates is just something he perceives as a part of any healthy relationship, you could say it is romantic, but he does that literally all the time just to see a smile. 

ideal physical traits:           honestly, he’s barely bothered. a clean appearance, clothing in order and nicely set, a good smell. he’s not really superficial, albeit he does have a ‘type’ so to say, so I will leave that answer for below. 

ideal personality traits:           he does like people with a certain form of self-esteem. That does not need to be brash or ‘out there’, but the form of self-esteem to get up against him as a person. To tell him when his actions are irrational or hurtful and to search the conversation with him and not shy away. Underlining danger is always interesting, the fact that his partner could push him down if they wanted to is something he personally finds attractive and will even encourage. That they could be ‘dangerous’ for him and also are teasing enough to make no secret out of it [ at least not around him ]. Teasing and taunting, playing with what he wants and desires, being a little bit arrogant is also something he likes. Additionally, still, a soft and gentle personality trait, the knowledge that he can just rest and be soothed whenever it is needed [ and as we know, it is really seldom with him to begin with ]. And then just acceptance, patience. He’s a very patient and compliant person when it comes to his lovers and he wants and desires just the same as Arima is not the most talkative and being forced to let everything or anything out is something that will, inevitably, turn him away. 

unattractive physical traits:           being dirty and unkempt. obvious smell that one hasn’t showered in quite some time. He’s not a fan of beards on men. But that’s basically about it, as long as someone looks like they take care of themselves, he will be fine. 

unattractive personality traits:           overly abrasive personalities. Those that think that all they do is the best ever, even though that they can only attain what they do with the help of others or over unjust means. He doesn’t particularly care when it’s people who do have the power and the means to be that arrogant about themselves, but otherwise - and if he’s getting too impatient with said behaviour - he will show them pretty quickly that their speech is for nought. Cowardice is something he barely wants to deal with, if someone wants a certain thing from him, they have to ask, he’s not moving to place it on a silver platter or even acknowledge the problem. Rudeness gets merely an eyeroll from him, even ‘playful rudeness’ is barely permitted and won’t get anything out of him. Basically, don’t be an asshole. 

ideal date:           frankly, he would prefer to stay home, make dinner himself and just spoil his date in the means that they would enjoy. Like written above, he does include going out and for dinner as something ‘usual’ for a relationship, so he doesn’t particularly see the need for a ‘date’ in that sense. if his partner wanted to go out? He would even propose one of the numerous cafés he knows that are hidden and like out of a fairy tale, just spending some time and getting to know one another in a calm surrounding. 

do they have a type?:           he does. People who are smaller than him, in body-height and body-size, but are still powerful in their own right. Could still overpower him, even if only for a moment and surprise him with exactly that. He likes darker hair and darker eyes, and a slim frame, it’s just aesthetically pleasing for him, albeit he also likes to watch muscles shift, especially when it comes to toned arms and a pretty back. So that’s a nice combination, so to say. 

average relationship length:           before he actually ‘settled down’ and was committed to either of his partners, he didn’t have what could be called a real relationship. He played around here and there, but that’s it. So now to his ships? He actually has a pretty similar ‘ship-length’ with either of them, meaning by the time of his passing, he was in either of them for nearly 10 years, so that’s quite a time to behold. 

preferred non-sexual intimacy:           just enjoying time together. Lazing around on the bed or sofa and reading together, or reading for one another. Cooking together or just going out for a walk, simple pleasures, really. 

commitment level:           he’s utterly committed, like completely and nothing makes him even remotely wane from his stance and he needs and wants it to be returned. 

opinion of public affection:           he doesn’t mind, nor does he truly hesitate to do so as well. If it’s a kiss in the hallway or holding hands, or just wrapping his arms around his partner, Arima is going to do that wherever he wants to do that and can’t care less about whatever anybody else around them would think about it. It’s a part of a healthy relationship for him [ as long as his partner accepts it, of course ] and usual notes and remarks against it are pretty much shot down, returned rather sarcastically or merely ignored. 

past relationships?:           as mentioned above, he didn’t really have any, so there’s nothing to actually comment about. 

tagged by: @aevyternal ♡~ tagging:  8|c @diiablerie | @fatechasing [ for either of the boys ] - @cxrtus | @coercitxr [ for whoever you like~ ] - @daturida | @fletschte - @tataraxx - @phantasmaniacist - @lacrimoso | @cachinnavi - @sigilsofteeth - @finalsinner - @apersurewhynot | @unchainably - @armismale | @circumspects - @tortorem [ and whoever wants to 8||| ]

[unmistakablyoatmeal]

11 question meme x 2

I was tagged a long time ago by @carpemermaidtales with 11 questions and I totally slacked off on answering them (mainly because I didn’t know what 11 questions I’d ask anyone else, haha) and now I’ve got 11 more from @dewitty1! So I’m gonna try to do this and not get even more further behind!

(This is really long so it’s all under a cut)

from @carpemermaidtales

1. Would you embark on an exploration expedition in space or in the deep sea? These are both terrifying and exciting prospects! Today I’m feeling the deep sea because I’ve been craving shark movies. Is that a good enough reason? IDEK.  

2. What are three things that make your day brighter? Waking up with @lqtraintracks and knowing that she doesn’t have to go home soon because now we share a home! My doggies and kitties. And today? that Gal Gadot gif I reblogged earlier, haha.

3. Do you have any goals for 2018? Nothing super specific, only continuing on working on things I started in 2017 - write more (which uh, I failed at in 2017 spectacularly, but 2018 is going much better in that regard!), read more, give away/donate all the clothes I do not wear (I’m working on it!) and continue to eat better, stay on top of housework and the like, and explore all aspects of my creative passions. 

4. Top song(s) that get you pumped up to take on the world? This is probably going to out me as a big dork but always “Roll With the Changes” by REO Speedwagon. But also “Her” by BlockB and “The Beat” by Topp Dogg and “Fire” by JYP (with Conan O’Brien and Steven Yeun) and well, lots of other kpop tbh.

5. If you had to pick five, what would your favorite tropes be? OOOH. Okay. Fake Relationship/Fake dating; Friends with Benefits; Mutual Pining; Rivals to Lovers; Accidental Bonding 

6. What’s something you’ve done that you’re proud of? Pass? Can I pass on this one? Gah. (Okay the gf said I could NOT) so I guess I’ll say, once I co-produced, co-directed All in the Timing by David Ives (a collection of One-Act plays), basically because I read it in high school and loved it and decided one day to do it and built the whole thing from the ground up--no theatre company backing, no money to start out with, etc. And I’ve got some mixed emotions about the whole thing because of unrelated stuff, but by itself, that was a pretty huge accomplishment. 

7. What’s something you’ve been meaning to try/do that you’ve been putting off? Well...write 50K+ fic, lol, but I am doing that with @lqtraintracks this year! Does that count?

8. Dance party in your underwear or late night swims? Dance party all the way! Unless I suddenly had a pool in my backyard, and then both. ;)

9. You’re stuck in the apocalypse: pick your team? Can I choose Glenn and Michonne from The Walking Dead? :D

10. You see a dog in the street, do you hug it? YES ALWAYS.

11. What’s the next dream vacation on your list? I really want to go to a wlw-only beach resort. Does that sort of thing exist? 

From @dewitty1

1. How often do you real “real books” over fanfiction? Never? lol I mean, I have several that I’ve been meaning to get to, but I haven’t been reading a whole lot of anything, and my fic list-to-read is just more tempting atm! 

2. Should dogs be higher in the ratings scale than cats? Try to convince me. Haha! As a dog and cat owner, I love them both. They both bring a different joys and different headaches. I’ll leave it at that. :)

3. What is your worst habit? Procrastination. 

4. Would you change the Hogwarts house colors or keep them the same & why? I think the colors are fine? I guess! Well, maybe I’d give someone purple because that’s my fav color. And since I’m a Hufflepuff, I’d be tempted to give them purple, but yellow is so fitting and yellow and purple -- nah.

5. Did you take the Pottermore quiz & do you think it was accurate? I did it a long time ago and got Hufflepuff, which is super fitting. Though the gf has commented that I’m probably more Slytherpuff that pure Hufflepuff, haha.

6. Do you believe astrology is fairly accurate, or is it just nonsense, and the stars have no bearing on your emotions/personality? Oh gosh--I mean I will look at that stuff from time to time and sometimes it can be so accurate and sometimes I don’t relate at all. I definitely wouldn’t let it drive my life or base decisions on what astrology says--for example, @lqtraintracks and I have looked at couples compatibility based on our signs and it basically said we’d be better friends than a couple and that’s just a bunch of bs right there. ;) 

7. What magical theory that is never explained in the Harry Potter books would you like to explore more fully? since @lqtraintracks and I have had many many discussions about privacy spells and Muffliato and how that works--do you cast it on yourself, do you cast it on other people and it fills their ears with buzzing? Can you cast it just on one person or is it a whole group thing--basically how the f does that work? So maybe that? I know that’s a super boring answer, but I mean, there has to be a better privacy spell than Muffliato, is all I’m saying.  

8. What do you do to get yourself out of a funk/depression? Watch something stupid or something I’ve seen a thousand times. Like comfort food, but tv. Usually something Star Trek or I’ve been going back to The Good Place a lot! But honestly, if I’m feeling down, sometimes the best way to cope is just to accept that I’m having a sad day or a down day and if I just let myself be okay with that and not try to force myself to adult or cheer up or be happy, that can really help. That and sleep.

9. If money were no object, what would you do with your life? I’d probably still be doing what I’m doing right now, but start a foundation for LGBT youth and something to support the arts, and just try to do some good with the extra $$.

10. Was Harry really oblivious as they say, or was he actually observant when he needed to be? My initial thoughts on this is that--he’s both. And that he’s oblivious about maybe social things and has some social awkwardness but that yes, he’s observant when he needed to be about a whole host of things? But honestly...I need to reread canon, lol. I feel like I’m a bit more influenced by fanon!Harry and I do love an oblivious!Harry when it comes to a certain blond pointy bloke fancying him. :DDD

11. Do you enjoy doing these quizzes, or are they as difficult for you as they are for me? lol… Haha omg these are so hard. I don’t particularly enjoy talking about myself, but I do love to be tagged and included. it’s my introvert-self versus wanting to be included and such. Push and pull! Also, I’m crying at the thought of coming up with 11 questions and tagging other people. Haha.

OKAY now I’m tagging @omarandjohnny @untilourapathy @bixgirl1 and @lqtraintracks (yes yes, I know you hate me now) but only if you want to and I apologize for the sucky questions I’m about to come up with off the top of my head! (Also anyone else? Please have a go if you like!)

1. What is your favorite meal of all time?

2. What’s the first movie you ever remember watching?

3. Write a two sentence story for me. (my gf made me ask this and she’s a big cheater.)

4. What is your absolute favorite trope of all time?

5. What’s something that scared you but you did it anyway?

6. It’s Sunday. It’s raining. What do you do?

7. What is your favorite way to procrastinate?

8. What’s your favorite way to tell somebody off?

9. What are you listening to right now?

10. “Friday, I’m in Love” - A great song or the best song?

11. What’s the most annoying question you’ve ever been asked on a meme?

[toomanyfeelings5]

7. and oh jeez it's gonna be hard to pick a ship oh boy um can you do a wlw version of Darcy/Elizabeth (my weakness tbh)?? Ily also I'll literally send like five more if you want

@hvctorberlioz literally if you’re ever like “should i send a prompt” my answer 99% of the time is “SEND IT.” emphatic yes. and thank you for sending this to me!!!!! and also if you think of different prompts that aren’t on the list nbd send’em in. OK ANYWAY HERE WE GO, WLW DARCY AND ELIZABETH (also u know what if u can think of anything for my unsung obscure ship for p an p, aka mary and caroline, feel free but obvs u don’t have to):

7. fake relationship au:

it is a truth universally acknowledged that when a woman wishes to take a turn about the room with a companion, she most certainly is not doing that companion any favors.

caroline bingley stared at elizabeth with a smile was neither kind nor friendly. “i would so wish to converse with you further. what is your reply, miss eliza bennet?”

elizabeth was surprised at how eager miss bingley seemed, but she accepted her outstretched hand just the same. there was only so much laughter elizabeth could hold within herself before she became impatient, before she longed to be somewhere else. oh, it was certainly good of mr. bingley to care for jane in her illness, and with any luck their marriage would be secured before mrs. bennet could throw another fit about it. yet elizabeth gladly accepted miss bingley’s request all the same, and soon the two of them were walking slowly about the room, freed from participating in dull conversations. 

miss bingley nearly glided around the room. she was quite poised, and seemed very conscious of her figure, even swaying slightly as she walked: a curious predicament, as there were no eligible gentlemen in the room with them. elizabeth’s bemusement grew: why was miss bingley so careful to expose her neck just so, to tuck a curl of stray hair behind her ear?

then miss bingley’s searching gaze found its target, and with piercing clarity elizabeth understood. she nearly laughed in shock: this night was to be much more entertaining than she had expected.

miss bingley glanced briefly at the dozing mr. hurst, then at her sister who was too preoccupied with her book to notice much else. at last, her gaze returned to miss darcy, who was poring over another dusty, expensive volume. “miss darcy,” miss bingley called, “would you like to join us?”

after a brief pause, miss darcy replied rather formally, “i must decline. i would certainly not wish to interfere with your machinations.”

“machinations!” miss bingley gasped, stopping short and almost causing elizabeth to collide with her. miss bingley unceremoniously leaned in to whisper loudly to elizabeth, “what could she possibly mean by that?”

elizabeth laughed at last, long and too loudly for her mother’s tastes, surely. “i know not,” she replied to miss bingley’s slightly frowning face. “i am sure that whatever miss darcy thinks of us, it will be a harsh judgment. we will disappoint her if we continue with these questions.”

it was a warning, of sorts: mr. hurst had twitched in his sleep. miss bingley, however, continued to ask after miss darcy’s thinking, until the woman herself finally replied, “an explanation, then: i suspect that you are discussing secret affairs, in which case i would not wish to interfere. or,” and here miss darcy curiously faltered. elizabeth raised an eyebrow, and miss darcy seemed to notice, because she immediately continued, “or if you both rehearse this walk so you could later please eligible gentlemen with your figures, then i am in your way once again.” the barest trace of a smirk twitched across her face. “should you need someone to observe your figures before a worthy gentlemen arrives, i am in a fine position to do so here.”

accordingly, miss darcy remained seated. elizabeth stared: did she understand miss bingley’s true inclinations, or did she really mean to offer her gaze as a show of sisterly friendship?

either way, mr. hurst continued to snore, and mrs. hurst was still engaged in her reading. 

miss bingley, it seemed, did not expect such a confusing response, and once again turned to elizabeth. “i have never heard such a strange response! how shall we punish her for such a speech?”

elizabeth frowned at miss bingley’s theatrics. it seemed that the woman was determined to win miss darcy’s attention by any means necessary. still, she was quite fond of games, and did her best to perform well.

yet an idea formed in her mind, an utterly ridiculous, scandalous idea. no one would be pleased except, perhaps, elizabeth herself. that, she decided, was reason enough.

after the conversation had continued, after this plan had struck elizabeth’s mind like particularly wild lightning, miss bingley said, “your examination of miss darcy and her capacity for friendship is over, i presume: pray, what is the result?” 

elizabeth did not smirk, as she might have done. instead, she let loose a breathy sigh, and let her eyes linger on miss darcy’s face. “i am perfectly convinced that she has no defect. she owns it herself without disguise.”

at this, even mrs. hurston glanced up from her book. miss bingley stiffened beside elizabeth. 

elizabeth watched miss darcy’s face redden–with indignation, surely–and did her utmost to convey a challenge with her gaze alone. 

after a short pause, miss darcy detailed her faults, countering elizabeth. that was not surprising in the least. what was a shock, however, was that miss darcy spoke in a softened version of her usual proper manner. elizabeth could hardly trust her own senses: was miss darcy eyeing her in an overly-fond manner? was miss darcy just as tired of caroline as she was? 

it seemed that even she knew a game when she saw one.

it was all elizabeth could do to flutter her eyes and conclude her own response with a honeyed, “you are safe from me.”

miss darcy nodded, as though deeply considering elizabeth’s words, as though she treated her opinion with the greatest care. “there is, i believe, in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil–a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome.”

“and your defect,” elizabeth said, making sure to emphasize that she did not believe miss darcy capable of any defect, “is to hate everybody.” she hoped her gentle delivery implied, except me. (another, unacknowledged part of her hoped that miss darcy heard her teasing underneath the sickening sweetness.) 

miss bingley, wholly convinced by elizabeth, lost whatever interjection she had prepared, and went rigid. 

miss darcy looked steadily at elizabeth. a lopsided smile formed across her face. “and yours is to willfully misunderstand them.”

miss darcy did not seem to exaggerate her amusement: her dark eyes crinkled surprisingly naturally, and she softened in a way that appeared to elizabeth to be entirely unintentional. 

elizabeth swallowed. how, exactly, were either of them to win this game?

in the heated silence, miss bingley seized her chance, and cried, “let us have music!” 

it seemed that she was the victor after all.

as mrs. hurston suggested songs for her sister to perform on the pianoforte, elizabeth shook her head: whatever moment had come to pass was surely the result of a dreary night and restlessness. the game was over. she had best turn her attention to important matters, such as jane’s health and her imminent prospect of marriage to mr. bingley. 

for her part, miss darcy, still seated in her chair, hastily returned to her book. she was glad that she was no longer being pulled into conversing with miss bingley, but a lingering unease set her face aflame. it would be best, she decided, if she did not give miss bennet anymore undue attention from now on.

[lordofsunshadowandsailor]

replies to replies and sexually charged replies

simblu replied to your post “story (and sexuality) replies”

To be clear.. for other seeing my replies.. I have no problem with what happened because of their same sex (I have male couples in my story) ..it was the lack of love and the presence of shame and disgust that saddened me.

I understood it perfectly from your comments... 

It is Tobio that is disgusted with feeling attracted to men, while Alvar is certainly troubled by it, since it is considered both a crime and an illness. The applicable punishments could destroy both of their lives, or even the treatments considered at the time, such as actual castration, chemical castration, replacement of testicles and... no good prospects in whatever direction they look, is there?

Love would have been very bold at the time, me thinks, shame and disgust and doubt and guilt and fear a lot more common, and representative of the times!

I’m also aware, like you have posted about your own story, of having introduced only male characters so far -- and all of them gay, too, in my own story. Women have been mentioned, like a sister on Alvar’s side, and Ms. Rigidhirta and all the women in Tobio’s household (in fact, he is the only man in it), but visually they will appear only much later.

willky12 replied to your post “story (and sexuality) replies”

I will say that it is hard to comment on these scenes for me because I don't want people misinterpreting my feelings or thoughts. Also I feel like I am almost 'intruding' on the writing. It's very raw and deep and personal. I understand where you are writing from and I understand why. I also don't like to see flippant replies like "nice rug" or "he's gorgeous" or similar, so would prefer you to know that my like is in support and when I feel I can express myself I will.

Thank you for your feedback! And also for understanding -- and seeing the writer behind the text. But you would not be intruding. Others views on the story and characters are so precious to me, like what you said about the recurring dream! The thing about flippant replies made me laugh, because I thought the rug in the scene was actually nice and I hope the guys are gorgeous :) -- but totally understand what you mean! Thank you for your truthful support, sincere interest and all the quality comments!

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “lordofsunshadowandsailor: With a rather vague recollection of the...”

Like, erm WOW! I had to scroll down your page to get to where I last saw, and i got a glimpse of the story and the shots and I was like "0___0" CAN'T WAIT TO READ! So then I gets to this post and thought, oh is this really where I last read, not about the dream and the angels? So I click Previous and it takes me to the dessert and yes it was right, but then I have to scroll back through your posts because I didn't think to click NEXT so now I get teased twice!

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “lordofsunshadowandsailor: With a rather vague recollection of the...”

Also, I decided to click on @lordofsunshadowandsailor​ blog to read from there but #83 post is not on that blog that I can find? Or I am going crazy. But anyway, enough from me. On with this VISUAL EUPHORIA!

Tumblr is a very weird media for stories, in my opinion. But this is where I’m in society with great storytellers, and I appreciate the company of all so much! And each of us find a different way of organizing their stories, so that it is very varied among blogs... Post #83 for Chapter Two is exactly where the sequence after the desert dream starts, I’m glad you found it! Clicking on previous/next opens the post in its own window, and I guess it is easier to read chronologically than scrolling up or down.

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “lordofsunshadowandsailor: While the aristocrat boy did not refuse the...”

Intense :O I am gripped! (Now I've walked the dog, done my reply post and can RELAX with your FANTASIC STORY!!) Also I always thought Tobio was a Top. The wording here about the role he is to take on - beautifully put!

Thank you so much for your enthusiasm with LoSSS!

For many guys, being a top is a cop out, as it is presented as less gay, or not gay at all, since the top does what he does to whatever hole he is getting into, be it a woman’s or a man’s. In this same logic, bottoming is the quintessential gay role-- and therefore I could not phantom one as insecure as Tobio taking such a role, that involves a whole lot of courage and being at ease with oneself, even to take any amount of violence in the physical act, that usually comes from the top. 

All the time I’m trying to indicate things more than properly showing them, choosing the words according to that principle, too. 

As for the role Tobio is about to take -- he owes it to Alvar, who quite bravely immediately puts them in their respective places, sensing what is most comfortable for both of them.

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “lordofsunshadowandsailor: Tobio could have blamed the exiguous space...”

OMG THE SLY DOG!!! Alvar! Who'd have thought? I hope poor Tobio can handle him. Also this was so erotic to read. It got me twinging!!! :O

Alvar would be in absolute shock to be called ‘sly dog’! Of course this perspective will change in a later post, when the concept of erastes and eromenos in paiderasteia is introduced, and we understand he is just conforming to an ideal form of love, as he sees it.

I should admit this was erotic to imagine and to write, but also challenging, since I did not want it to sound like an erotic fantasy or a script to porn... I wrote and rewrote this so many times, and am not sure I’d ever print this on paper!

But that the words have had an effect on you... Isn’t it reading some wonderfully magical trick?!

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “lordofsunshadowandsailor: Afraid he would finish before they began,...”

Yeah that is a real fear for him, Penicillin eh? I hope Alvar is clean, but I doubt it tbh now I look at him lol (Judgemental much?)

Imagine a medicine student, and how much he saw this in his studies, or even was discretely approached by guys from the sports teams for help... All the time he fears being caught, losing his reputation -- and though Tobio would be able to treat himself if he caught any venereal disease, he knows how hard it would be to hide it from his colleagues. I wanted to show yet another fear keeping Tobio from having sex.

But all too soon Tobio finds himself planted inside Alvar, who has devoured him, and he finds no forces to retreat...

As for Alvar, he looks a little dusty in those clothes, doesn’t he? And though not taking daily baths, like everyone else back then, I’d say he is clean, though I cannot attest it -- whatever is most interesting to the plot should happen. Please judge as much as you feel like, but please share it with me!

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “lordofsunshadowandsailor: Long overdue, urgent satisfaction...”

Subjugating Terror! Wow, amazing wording to capture the mood :O I LOVE THIS!!!

This is the heat of the moment. Tobio has passed an epic threshold in his life -- sex has to be that powerful a happening for him as to momentarily win over his religiosity. Thank you for your appreciation!

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “lordofsunshadowandsailor: The front door cracked open, letting in the...”

JESUS F CHRIST! How brazen are these two!! That was a close call!! Whew! I had to lean forward to look at this in detail. Amazing picture of naughtiness!!! :D :D :D

Like other scenes for this sequence, I fear it has turned out too dark, and one might not notice the two men kneeling behind the bench... But it had to be so, if I wanted to be coherent with them being sheltered by the darkness of the niche. 

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “lordofsunshadowandsailor: “It’s complicated for them, we all know it....”

I am glad I am reading this now when I know there are more fabulous posts ahead, and don't have to wait for more :D :D :D

I’m rushing to finish this scene and this chapter, since I’m going on holidays soon, so whenever I have at least 7 posts ready, I’ll release them!

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “lordofsunshadowandsailor: The scandal. And subsequent expulsion. ...”

This is erotica writing at its finest. I can't believe the thoughts this is giving me! Also, perhaps Tobio will be ok with Alvar being so tight and small a bottom - unused and virginal but just as keen as eager to get filled for the first time as Tobio was to fill it. I love these guys. They seem some privacy. Or do they? I sort of am turned on by the public woohoo going on here :D

I think by this point it’s been hinted that Alvar is not unused nor virginal at all -- though he is not promiscuous, either. Sex back then had completely different standards, from what I’ve researched.

I wonder if this scene would ever happen in the privacy of a bedroom... I’m inclined to say Tobio fears intimacy, and he would not have assaulted Alvar (assaulted not being a synonym for rape here, since Alvar clearly wants it too, though maybe not with the same intensity as Tobio) if they were on a bed... It being public, and inadequate, and furtive, and clumsy, in the dark, very adequately suits Tobio’s fears. A romantic situation would have scared him to death. He wants it as forbidden as it can be, so that the act can fit within his stream of past and future suffering. 

Still, both men are also very turned on by the public woohoo going on here, as we shall discover in the next posts.

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “lordofsunshadowandsailor: His own trembling legs feeling weak, and...”

Jees! Tobio nearly strangled the poor boy! I bet Alvar LOVED THAT!!! :D

Maybe he did, didn’t he? And this could send us back to the first scenes of LoSSS, where a grown up Alvar strangles Eddie the Lost Boy, and the tension between them becomes sexual in this post... Maybe he learned it from this occasion with Tobio?

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “lordofsunshadowandsailor: His own trembling legs feeling weak, and...”

Also, this pic leaves just the right amount of graphic stimulation for the brain to do the rest. Lovely work Az!!!

I had to move them around, and the bench and the sculpture, unaccountable times before making this shot... There are some pretty grotesque things, and other very explicit shots that will remain unpublished, for I too prefer to leave it to the writing and imagination to complete the scene. Thank you for the compliment!

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “lordofsunshadowandsailor: “What was that?” Tobio heard one of the...”

Right, this is the one. THIS is the picture that has finally whipped my arse into finally going back to post #1 and finding out wtf Tobio's brain is all about. I'm going to stop being LAZY and do it!!! lol. I fucking LOVE this story! Have I already mentioned that? lol

I have already sent you the link to the first post where Tobio appears, at the very start of chapter Two. 

Since the sex scene is a flashback, reading about them ten years later might not help and even confuse things about when they were so young... We’ve seen Tobio is a widow, with an orphaned baby at home, his face destroyed by the war... It’s sort of touching, I hope, to see them so young and before real tragedy touches their lives...

Thank you for your enthusiasm with LoSSSS!  Have I already mentioned that? :)

declarations-of-drama replied to your photoset “lordofsunshadowandsailor: Panting heavily, his mouth wide open...”

So it's actually snow leaking in and not rain? �� HAHA JK! Wow, Alvar, you little dick pig!! Somebody gonna need to get an antibac wipe :D

Nearly getting caught simply sent Alvar overboard.

Again, being called ‘little dick pig’ would shock him so much, haha. This and other comments made me laugh so hard, thank you!

As for hygiene -- it will be mentioned later, but I’m left wondering if this is the first sex scene this hall has seen in its existence... 

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “lordofsunshadowandsailor: With a tenderness that evoked the hurt...”

Yeah who are you kidding. Tobio is not going anywhere! Those scholars would need a bucket of water to separate these two right now. And I would KILL THEM for trying - we need to see this out! So how did Tobio finish? I can hardly wait to click on the next post :O

They are acting like dogs, aren’t them? But I guess their shame would separate them quicker than that bucket of water, if the scholars had not taken the steps up the stairs...

You’re right. Tobio is fooling himself that he will so easily give up on finishing what he has just started, especially after having waited for so long, suffering so much... It also shows him quite coldly evaluating risks, and his self control in holding back his own satisfaction -- like Alvar couldn’t -- and still surrendering to desire in deciding to go on with it. 

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “lordofsunshadowandsailor: But except for their own panting, the hall...”

Go for it boy! Gag him and then destroy that peach!

Haha, this made me laugh so hard! I doubt Tobio is thinking in those terms -- still, that is exactly what he is doing!

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “lordofsunshadowandsailor: But except for their own panting, the hall...”

:D Haha sorry for my crude comments, my natural love for gay men and their activities has been thrown into the light by your story!

I have to confess I would never have imagined this kind of subdued, sublimating writing to have such an effect... And am made to see a different dimension of this scene with your comments. Gay men and their activities certainly appreciate your love for them -- at least, these two here do!

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “lordofsunshadowandsailor: He tried stuffing Alvar’s mouth with the...”

To be honest I would have offered to make you Alvar's hat as a mouth accessory for this shot. If you need anything like that for this future story, gimme a shout! :D Also, this is exactly how I would have wanted this to go. Pure rampant repression releasing from Tobio's soul. I'm so happy for him :D

Thank you for the offer! Reading is enough for the readers, though those who are only having a peek shall never know of the detail you mentioned... It’s okay not to have everything in the pictures, I guess. I would often have Sims block from this kind of lack, but I’m fighting my own perfectionism to simply keep on with telling the story, no matter the mistakes or shortcomings.

Yes, let’s be happy for Tobio, though he might not be very happy with himself after this is through. For the moment, he is taking revenge on life -- though it’s poor Alvar who is actually taking the beating.

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “lordofsunshadowandsailor: He tried stuffing Alvar’s mouth with the...”

Also, I don't know if I would have used the word "relieve" - it sounds to me like Tobio's dick is just too big and almost painful. But maybe I have misinterpreted the wording. (That's the only bad thing I can think about this glorious story so far and thought you might appreciate me being honest)

PLEASE be honest all the time! Do quote my writing, question it, criticize it. (Like Alvar here, I need the beating/spanking to progress as a writer, not just the compliments)

I used the word ‘relieve’ not so much as an indication of Tobio’s size, but certainly of how painful this must be for the bottom. How uncomfortable for Alvar it is to be pounded against bare floorboards, his ribs and pelvic bones hurting, how hard it must be to breathe, and the dust that he is breathing not making it any more comfortable, the lack of room, the restraint of their clothes, and the force of Tobio’s trusts... I did not want to bring in all these details, but that’s why I used ‘relieve’. It feels awfully good, but it hurts badly too!

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “lordofsunshadowandsailor: Tobio couldn’t have known – and being it...”

I hope they have a lovely lasting relationship, though I doubt that it would ever be public knowledge, perhaps an unspoken secret, but I do feel bad that they are stuck in this time. Perhaps they could find a time machine? :D

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “lordofsunshadowandsailor: Tobio couldn’t have known – and being it...”

Also I'm not sure if my comment is in context with the story because I haven't been back to #1 yet. So forgive me if they are some sort of dream-weaving time lords.

We’ve seen as Alvar did not want to take Apollo Jim to any hospital, but still felt confident to knock on Tobio’s door at 6AM in search of help... Their relationship has survived the war, so it holds some quality and strength in it to have lasted that long... We’ll learn more about it, in chapter Three.

It’s sad that their love is considered both an illness and a crime (and a sin, too, for Tobio) -- but at least death penalty no longer applies to it! As for the time machine -- only Alvar has access to it, in his knowledge of history from Ancient Greece, and in his romantic, idealized fantasies that wrap his sexual relations. Tobio, stuck with religion, should better stay where he is than embark in a time machine -- for he could die on a bonfire or impaled with an spear.

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “lordofsunshadowandsailor: Tobio knew nothing about Greek Love, and...”

Ahh! So this does shed a lot of light onto Alvar's experience. Hopefully he's not a boy from the alleys after all!

Do you mean in present time or in previous incarnations? At 19, Alvar is Lord Phallihurst in the making, and we have seen him admit to have never approached prostitute boys before his search for Apollo Jim -- but maybe in another life he might have been himself a boy from the alleys, or a professional in the brothels, or a slave, who knows?

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “lordofsunshadowandsailor: Knowing only of his pressing satisfaction,...”

This was a perfect encounter for Tobio's first time. How lucky is he to have found such an eager bottom as Alvar.

Yes -- but he doesn’t know it! He has no terms of comparison, and he doesn’t know how Alvar’s training as an eromenos, the submissive lover, has really made it easier for him, being totally inexperienced and hesitant, to carry out his first intercourse with another man.

And as said above, there is no affection in the act, which suits Tobio perfectly, too!

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “lordofsunshadowandsailor: Whenever his sexual desire sought to...”

The boy has stamina! Unless what he's experiencing is one of those head-fuck moments where time seems like it slows down and a hundred things go through your head, because from the descriptions of Alvar's experience, and grateful need of Tobio's meat I would have guessed that there would be a lot more snow leaking out of somewhere by now!

This post, and the last paragraph in particular, depicts more Tobio’s climax than Alvar’s -- though you’re right to imagine Alvar leaking again from the pounding he has just taken.

In terms of the act, I guess it did not last more than a couple of minutes since Tobio has started trusting -- and it would still be incredibly long, given the exposure of the situation, the risk of being caught still existing, it being his first time, Alvar being not exactly passive... It’s just that I have extended the act along dozens of posts, breaking it with Tobio’s recurring dreams, and the scholars’ arrival, and many personal impressions from both Alvar and Tobio... It doesn’t look so, but as tense and intense as it might have been, it still was a quickie! Which, again, suits Tobio well.

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “lordofsunshadowandsailor: Rather rashly, he was opening an...”

I'm not as good at English as you because I'm only English, but I'm guessing this is the descriptive form of Tobio's ejaculation. I hope his dreams don't haunt him as much now he has crossed this threshold, though I fear his brain is going to make his doubts and self-torment a lot worse :(

Haha, this made me laugh, too!

How many words did I need to use instead of ejaculation, right?! And it’s not even clear when it has happened, is it? 

This particular post is the resolution of his recurring dream -- how the desert is invaded by the water from the dam, as the wall that separated them collapses with Tobio having sex and finally surrendering to his desires. And desert or dam no longer exist for him, but a new, boundless sea, that he’ll have to learn to navigate -- for the rest of his life!

We’ll see more of Tobio as we return to his house and office, ten or so years after this sex scene. We know he has married Emily, who died upon giving birth to their daughter... How to bring together the married man who has become a widower and a father, and this gay sex beast from his youth?

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “lordofsunshadowandsailor: Enlarged, their expanded bodies...”

:( Such a shame. The heat of the moment has now turned into the hate of the moment :(

I just love it how you played with the words containing the same letters!

Shame is the key word here, though in a different sense for the boys than you are making use of it.

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo “lordofsunshadowandsailor: Though Tobio did not immediately withdraw...”

Heartbreaking to be honest because Tobio will now torment himself badly over this, and poor Alvar who just wants to be fucked and loved by a manly stud :(

From your words of feedback on both Tobio and Alvar, I believe to have succeeded in depicting sex very differently for each of them. Same place, same moment, both engaged in the same act -- but completely different experiences happening concomitantly, opposite even in outcome, as we’ll see with the closing of the scene.

I’m thankful that you have taken so much interest in Tobio, for he is not  my focus -- but I did not want to leave him out of focus either. To me, he is more a mirror in which Alvar, who is the protagonist, can be seen with an specific quality of reflection -- Tobio-nesque, I guess we can call it. At the same time, I don’t want to make Tobio simply that bland mirror.

I’d say Alvar wants to be loved more than he wants to get fucked. He thoroughly enjoys the second, but aiming at the first. His perception is that openly offering himself, obediently surrendering, and actively submitting and engaging to pleasure his partner (though, as a side benefit, finding himself uncontrollable pleasure) only might lead him to love, some love, any love at all.

Thank you @declarations-of-drama so very much for the comments --and @simblu  and @willky12  too in this post -- your comments and special perceptions of the story put you all in a position of co-writers, really!

[saucylittlesmile]

Hi Saucey, on an Uber drive stuck in traffic and heard on Xfm sports podcast about rumours of Rielly/Hyman/Kerfoot trade talks. The question was will the Leafs pay Rielly more than what he’s getting paid now to keep him and or even if he was worth it. Tbh, I couldn’t hear the whole thing because my driver was too busy yapping. As per my boss who loves the Leafs, he’s all good if they let Rielly walk, but not to Hyman. Why ? Listening to my boss talk Hockey at the shop, seems that the rest of the guys are ok with losing Rielly as well. I work at a Auto repair/detailing shop in Toronto. Do you think he’s worth more than 7+ mil, like many are suggesting that he’s going to be asking for.

I had a long answer, so it's a read-more.

I think Rielly is one of those players that really divides people. He is classified as a defensive player, but he's known to be an offensive defense player. As such, he takes a lot of risks - if the play goes well, he generates goals, assists, or chances, and the fans love that. But if it goes badly, then the rest of the team has to try and cover for him, and there's a strong possibility that the opposing team will get the upper hand. And of course, the fans hate that.

Getting Brodie on the team was brilliant; he was so solid, so consistent in the defensive zone, that he made an excellent partner for someone who pinches; but it also showed what that kind of defensive player could mean on the whole - his statistics were incredible.

In terms of then comparing him then to Rielly, it then really pushed the train of thought: are the risks that Rielly takes, worth it? And there isn't so much a right or wrong answer, as just what you value in him as a player (or not) and how his style fits in with the rest of the team. Dubas made it a goal for the team overall to become better defensive players - I was reading an interesting article in how Tavares was really pushing himself on that side this year, to the initial detriment of his offensive side - because it was such an obvious weakness of the team in previous years (and perhaps no more obvious than in the 2020 season). Overall, they certainly had better results with a more defensive play, and perhaps it has also shifted some of the minds of the Leafs fans as well.

He still seems to be a player that gets a lot of good attention from what I read - Leafs fans are particularly hard on their players. Still, I think it's not so much about Rielly's past and potential for the Leafs that have people suggesting a trade, so much as it is a timing issue. With $40 million tied up in only four players (and yet, not really having a good incentive to try and trade one of those players, due to a lot reasons), and the salary cap flat again next year, the Leafs are going to have to do some major juggling to get what they need, vs what they want. There are a lot of players who are needing to be signed this year, or move on - Spezza and Hyman being the two people mostly talk about, but there's a whole list of players that are on the tipping point. To pay them out, right now they'd have to account for Rielly's money too - but next year, he'll also be in the position of re-signing, or moving on, and if he does/can demand more money, then the Leafs might not be able to afford him. So if they're thinking that far ahead - then there is something to be said for trading him this year, instead, and getting a great trade because Rielly just had an admirable playoffs that will make him seem even more attractive to prospective teams. By the end of next year, they just either re-sign (at whatever cost) or they lose him flat, with nothing coming back. And meanwhile, if they trade him, they free up more space to sign people who are perhaps not as expensive as Rielly. It's a gamble, but in sport, it always is.

And as seen from the press, and some of the decisions from the coaching team, Sandin is waiting in the wings for his turn - he's young, inexpensive, and can be an offensive defense player - basically, the new Rielly, once he grows more comfortable with his position. There will naturally be some growing pains there, but there are plenty of people who are looking at Sandin as the future, and have no problem watching Rielly move on.

Meanwhile, Hyman - and I am on team sign-Hyman myself - has also been with the Leafs for a long time, and has proven himself to be an excellent player. He may not have the... star-power of the core players, but can play on any line, and usually impressively so, and people also speak of him highly with regards to his work ethic. So, yeah, he's the kind of player who can and should be asking for more than what he's getting - and again, it may come down to if the Leafs can afford him, when they're on a tighter budget because of that core, and have many other depth players to sign. But while there is a Sandin for Rielly, there isn't really a Sandin for Hyman at this point - making the prospect of losing him even less appealing.

I honestly don't have much... grasp on the idea of how much money players 'can and should' be asking for. (Mostly, I just think in general it's a ridiculous amount anyway LOL.) But at this point, I think that both Hyman and Rielly are on enough of a 'high' that they can ask for more, and if they settle for less, it's for other reasons, rather than it not being offered.

[unfilteredfritter-blog]

more stupid things

Okay, so that was the update on the L sitch. There’s sosososo much more on every other plane. Truly drama in dykeville. 

So the friends all mostly came back to me. My ex still lives with one of my good friends, but she and I don’t talk at all. I don’t have much interest in it, tbh. She texted me on my birthday and it really upset me. Why unfriend me everywhere and then try to ruin my birthday? If she wanted to truly stay friends, she woudln’t have unfollowed me and I don’t actually want to spend any time with her anyway. 

This is a recurring theme with me and exes. 

So I’ve been dating around for a while. I got excited about a couple of hopeful prospects but two of them ended up not being anything, distressingly enough. 

But I started seeing one of my (former) good friends, one half of a polyamorous married couple. Now I don’t consider myself poly, though there are many aspects that do make sense to me. Especially when I’m single and dating, I’m talking to or seeing more than one person, (not that it’s especially exciting or fulfilling). So I’ve kind of opened myself up a little to allow that I might not be the strict monogamist that heteronormative culture leads us to believe is the only way to do things. So I just say I’m “open” and that fits me the way queer fits me. I’m basically a lesbian, but I also am attracted to trans men and sometimes even cis men. I feel bad for those indiscretions, because I really want to be with women, but I like who I like and I don’t really get to choose who that is. (Believe me, if I could choose it wouldn’t be people who have nothing in common with me!). So queer fits because I’m not straight up lez (and I don’t identify as bi or pan). And open fits me because I don’t like the poly label and ethical nonmonogamy is too long to say and hard to explain. But it’s basically that without those particular labels. Hey, language is important. 

So anyway, I started dating this friend, G, who is the wife of one of my really good friends--with her blessing of course. I had many hesitations and questions and projected many problems but it was fun and exciting at the time and since they were both so agreeable to the situation I just kind of went with it. 

And she was crazy about me for a hot second. I was totally gaga for her too, maybe I caught feelings too fast or something? I don’t know what happened, but it fills me with despair. I’m trying to boil things down a little for you, but now that I’m at the end of that relationship I can’t help but think about where and when and why things went wrong. And blame myself for being too much, the way women always do. 

Basically we started dating and things were really great for about a month. Then she started to text me less often and was less apt to be available to go out on dates with me, and things just felt different. I felt the distance, the coolness, figured I was being too needy and tried to cool down on her a little, give her some breathing space. 

I was politely brushed off time and time again, and we had a couple of meetings where things were a little tense. Once, back in late january, she upset me with a political tirade when I was already feeling really despondent over our political situation and I left her place in tears. 

Later, we had some things to talk about and work out, which we tried to work on. But she never held up her end of the bargain, and I felt like I”d been duped by all her charming words and no charming actions to go with them. 

For me, I really needed and wanted a physical relationship, and she seemed all for it at first. We only slept together twice, and I was eager for more. Here’s where I beat myself up-- I don’t know what I did or didn’t do or if I was just not hot enough for her or what. But she kept stringing me along for months, telling me how important I was to her and making excuses. When I talked to her about it she’d reassure me and I’d feel better for a second and then she’d continue to not show me the affection that I needed. Aside from some very chaste pecks on the lips and a brief hug of greeting here or there, there was just nothing. My heart was just breaking so slowly, so painfully. 

You can’t make someone love you.

You can talk about things until you’re blue in the face, but if you can’t show me your affection then I don’t understand how it exists. She wasn’t willing to make time for me, she wasn’t willing to even make out with me, let alone have sex, and I just dried up into this bitter, disappointed shell. 

Now don’t get me wrong-- I’m all for consent culture, I’m not trying to coerce anyone into doing anything they don’t want to do. But I am honest and I’ll tell people what I want and what I’d like to see happen. If that’s not what they want, cool, it’s fine. I’m not going to push it. She seemed agreeable to a physical relationship and then wouldn’t ever make time for me. That distance between us just kept growing wider. 

I understand that people get busy and have to prioritize other relationships in poly circles. But people make time for the things they want to do and the people they want to be with. She never made time for me and it really hurt. 

Things just kept getting weirder and weirder. Even though we’d hang out in group situations, there was an elephant in the room. The chaste pecks on the lips stopped, and everything just.... I knew it was over. It was over a long time ago but I just didn’t want to think it was. I was so excited when we started this whole thing, and she just... I think she just stopped liking me but didn’t want to hurt my feelings so she just drifted off. 

Anyway I ended it last week, it was kind of dumb. First I spoke with her wife, who affirmed my feelings that G was treating me horribly, and we talked long into the night about what’s been going on, how she’s been behind the scenes, trying to help G be a better girlfriend to me, to no avail. I felt such relief after talking to my friend for hours, such immense relief to hear that it’s not just my close friends and me who think G was being stupid and insensitive. 

But I was already done. I’d written a thousand breakup letters in my head, agonized for hours and days and weeks about it. This woman is just not good enough for me-- I’m tired of the empty promises and feeling shitty because nothing ever changes. Even her own wife saw it and did what she could to prod her into being better for me, not that it helped.

So I was not surprised the next day when I got a text from G, which was very apologetic but was basically an “I can’t do this” text. 

A text, Gee thanks.

I wrote her a letter back, to which she never responded. 

A week and a couple days later it’s time for our regular monthly meeting, which I really look forward to and did not want to miss. So I showed up as usual, bravely. Things went ok. We had our meeting and I guess it wasn’t too awkward for everyone else but it took a lot out of me. I didn’t even want to look at her, let alone talk to her. And some of the things we all talked about at the meeting were things that were so raw and bleeding, things that I wished I could say without her in the room: my responses to some writing that obviously affected me because of this situation. Am I ever going to be able to just speak freely without thinking about her reading between the lines? Do I even want to stay a part of this group? Am I willing to forfeit the friends and activities and the fun and community we all have for her? 

Things have been really hard. It was stupid. My entire love life is a fucking joke and I am just so stupid. All I want is for someone to give a shit about me and it turns out that nobody does. Least of all the person I was dating. Her own wife cared more about me than she did. And now I’m stuck visiting with this woman who disappointed me so deeply, whose actions (lack of action) felt so hurtful and dismissive to me as to make me question and doubt my own worth. 

Because at the end of the day, I wasn’t good enough for her. I wasn’t worthy of her time or affection and nothing I did or said changed that. She liked me like crazy for a second and then she didn’t. She convinced me it would be okay to risk some of my most important friendships to explore these romantic feelings and then as soon as I wasn’t exciting enough for her (I guess?), her attention and affection withered like a leaf. 

I’m so sad about it, but aside from making me want to pull away from this amazing group of queer women that I’m so happy to have finally found, I’m sad that it makes me doubt myself. I know I’m attractive and intelligent and interesting and well as being kind, caring, a good friend, loving, supportive and all of the things that make up a decent person to be with and be around. But it still wasn’t enough for her, so that makes me inadequate. 

I liked her so much and she just totally wasted my affection.