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stillmonsterz · 7 months

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10th Street

pairing: jake sim x reader, jay park x reader kind of (one-sided genre: raw sex with jake :/ summary: you go on a date with jay and it's looking bleak, but the bartender comes around to save the day. warnings: alcohol, unprotected sex, drug mentions, crypto mentions, jay is annoying and rich, oral sex.... word count: 5.4k and unproofread.

“What really gets me about these rug pulls,” Jay says, steepling his fingers and placing them under his clean-shaven chin, “is that they’re so damn predictable. Any asshole with an ounce of intelligence could immediately spot that an anonymous crypto project is obviously going to rug. I mean, it’s fucking ridiculous, right?”

“Right,” you say. Your eyes flicker across his face, taking in his features. You wonder if the sex will be worth this, but the cursory glances you’ve taken at his trousers have told you that it probably won’t.

Your date is Jay Park, this entrepreneur who has made a name for himself in your area’s tech scene. When he had initially met you in a bookstore, skulking out of the philosophy section to not so much as introduce himself as to remind you of his name and status, you had assumed that he would have taken you someplace nicer. Instead, he drove you in his McLaren just outside of 10th Street. He had paid for 4 hours parking and had jostled you down the cluttered sidewalk, his Ferragamos clattering. Jay had gripped your elbow as he navigated you past drunkards, children wandering the streets without parents, and women with glassy eyes.

Your voice was joking but belied some of your concern. “Where are you taking me, a traphouse?”

“That’s date number two,” Jay had replied jovially, looking back at you in the light of the setting sun, “if I decide that you’re worth the effort.”

You had bitten back a groan and continued following him down the street. Finally, he had stopped you outside of a seedy dive bar, with a hole in the glass boarded up with cheap planks. The planks themselves had been tagged with obscene phrases written in spray paint and Sharpie. Jay had pointed to one word and smiled at you with childish glee. “I wrote that one,” he had said proudly. “

“You have awful writing,” you had said flatly, crossing your arms. “And this place looks like a crack den.”

“That’s exactly why we’re here,” Jay replied in a wheedling tone, his grip on your elbow sliding down to your hand. He had interlaced your fingers together. “Come on, don’t you wish to shed the trappings of the social strata? Doesn’t this excite you?”

A protest had begun to rise in your throat, but Jay had already pushed the door open, pulling you along. The bar was dimly lit, the lightbulbs flickering in the grimy lamps. Stains cover the cheap plywood flooring, and as Jay led you to a table the planks made harsh squeaking noises. Industrial metal was playing from a tinny radio, and the one LCD TV mounted in the corner was displaying grainy footage of a football game. The patrons crowding around the bar and littering the pool table are what you would expect. Loud, raucous, with hunched backs, jerky movements, and thinning hair. The glances that some of the men situated by the pool table gave you were reason enough to flee, but Jay’s grip is as tight as a viper.

“Don’t mind them,” Jay had whispered, his face nothing short of elated. His head had surveyed the room, and a slow smirk settled onto his lips. His well-coiffed hair, youthful face, and understated yet expensive clothes had set him apart, something that greatly pleased him. He had turned back to you. “You’re probably the most beautiful woman they’ve seen in months.”

“That’s not hard,” you had mumbled, crossing your arms. Your seat was sticky and the table separating you and Jay was riddled with dents and chips.

“Oh, come on,” Jay had whined, spreading his arms widely. “Don’t be such a little princess. Isn’t this nice? This stripping of artifice, this beautiful and vulgar display of Americana? It’s exciting, isn’t it? Gets you kind of…turned on, right?”

You had raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t sporting a half-chub, yeah.”

You had groaned. “You’re disgusting, Jay.”

“Stop,” he had muttered, holding up his hand. “I might go full mast….” Jay had stood up hurriedly. “I’m going to get us drinks before I inelegantly bust all over the table. What do you want, like a Cosmopolitan or some shit?”

“No…I kind of wanted a vodka cranberry?”

Jay had scoffed, opening his wallet in a way that showed you his black card. “What, are you someone’s fucking grandmother? Christ.” He had stalked towards the bar, and you had sat there, trying not to make eye contact with any of the barflies. Finally, your gaze had fallen upon Jay talking to the bartender, at whom he was wildly gesticulating. The bartender was nodding patiently, taking a slow swig of a clear liquid in a tumbler. His apron was stained, his plain black V-neck exposed his thin arms and chest, and his eyes sparkled with a youthfulness one wouldn’t expect to find in a place like this.

As you had watched the two of them, the bartender’s eyes had briefly slid towards you. His eyes had widened, then narrowed playfully before he went to prepare the drinks. Your chest had felt warm, but you stifled your smile as Jay had stalked back towards your table.

“I feel bad for that poor bastard,” he had said, sidling into his chair and slinging his arm on the back of it. “Imagine being shackled to this shithole.”

“I thought you liked this shithole.”

“Yeah, as a brief recourse from the ardors of being really fucking rich,” Jay had retorted. “Not for the rest of my life. I mean, goddamn. Look at that prick.”

Jay didn’t have to tell you twice. You took in his messy brown hair, his wide smile, his deft fingers. Then he had walked away from the counter, holding your vodka cranberry and an old-fashioned for Jay. His stride was sure, and he was only looking at you.

“Here you are,” the bartender had said lowly. “Here’s your old-fashioned-“ he had set the drink in front of Jay with little fanfare- “and here’s your vodka cranberry.” He had slid the drink towards you, making brief eye contact with you. He had been so close to you, you could finally make out his name tag – Jake, written in careful capital letters- and you could smell the moonshine on his breath.

“Yeah, thanks,” Jay had muttered.

“Thank you,” you had added softly.

Jake leaned away slowly, his eyes still lingering on you, before politely nodding. “Let me know if you need anything,” he had drawled before walking away.

Jay had taken a long swig of his old-fashioned and takes a look at the retreating figure of Jake before groaning. “He should have made it even more obvious that he wanted you. He should have just shoved his cock into your old-lady drink and swirled it around so we really got the picture. Fuck me, I guess.”

You had sipped your vodka cranberry and laughed. “Oh, come on. You’re reading too much into it.”

“I’m not,” Jay had insisted, pointing at you with an accusatory glare. “He was checking you out in this lascivious manner. It was disgusting. He was looking at you like you were some piece of ass.” He had taken another long drink of his old-fashioned, barely wincing at the burn.

“As opposed to you,” you had said sarcastically, “who only has pure intentions for me, right?”

Jay had laughed. “Hey, it’s different when I objectify you. It’s kind of like when a homeless guy calls you sexy on the sidewalk compared to when an apex predator like me calls you sexy. The point is, that bartender wants you, and it’s revolting.”

You had dared another glance at the bartender, who was blatantly staring at you while sipping his moonshine. “Relax. I’m probably just the first woman with a full set of teeth he’s seen in a while.”

Jay had snickered again. “That’s probably true.” Only a few moments of silence had passed before his voice took on a mischievous, almost playful lilt. “You know, you could probably get something from him…”

You had wiped the corner of your mouth with your thumbs. “What do you mean?”

“You know,” Jay had said with a shrug, “you could get some free drinks out of him if you flirted a little, take advantage of him. You could probably get him to bequeath his life savings, which could maybe buy you a used microwave or a footlong.”

Your mouth had gaped open. “Are you openly encouraging me to flirt with him?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you a cuck or something?”

Jay had laughed again, slapping the table. “Ah, you slay me.” He had reached over and pinched your cheek, an action that made you want to bite his fingers off. “Come on, just shove your cute little ass in his face and flirt. It’ll be funny to make him think that he has a chance with you.”

“I’ll pass,” you had replied. “I mean, it’s not really my thing to just play around with other peoples’ emotions.”

He had sighed and shook his head in disappointment. “Oh, what am I going to do with you? You’re so goddamn innocent. You’re saying that you’ll feel some modicum of guilt if you fuck around with him?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Jay had downed the rest of his old-fashioned. “Recalcitrance is for bitches and pussies.”

You had rolled her eyes. “Fine, so I’m a pussy.”

Once again, that finger had found its way into your line of sight. “You know who’s really a pussy? This asshole who had invested in this obvious pump and dump…”

As Jay rambles about crypto, you can’t help but look at the bartender. He’s behind the counter, cleaning a cloudy glass with a rag. When he notices that you’re looking at him, he smiles at you warmly before he looks at Jay and returns his attention to the glass.

Jay corrals you into having another drink, and you listen to his sophomoric opinions on modern society, the current film industry, his tech predictions, and his opinions on right-wing pundits. The only thing stymying your boredom from overtaking you are your furtive glances at the bartender- Jake, you remind yourself. Jake.

Finally, the two of you leave the shady bar, and Jay makes out with you as he presses you against his car. You close your eyes and think about Jake as his tongue probes inside of your mouth with little grace.

“Listen,” you murmur, pulling away from his lips, “I have a presentation early in the morning to give, so I’m going to have to cut this date short…”

“Oh, bullshit,” Jay says, groping your ass on the sidewalk, “you just don’t want to fuck me, is that it? Can you say that for me? Say that you don’t want to fuck me.”

You sigh. “I don’t want to fuck you.”

His hands comes off of your ass and he pulls away from you, shaking his head. “That’s all you had to say. I don’t get women. They’re always like, ‘Men never listen to us!’ Then they don’t explicitly tell us anything, we have to parse through their shit...” As Jay talks, he opens the passenger door. “Get in. Please.”

You slide inside of his car and he closes the door, even buckling your seatbelt for you. Then he walks over to the driver’s seat and drives to your place. He calls you a cock-tease and a winsome harlot and some other choice terms you can barely hear.

When he finally arrives at your place, he begs you for one last kiss. You oblige, he bemoans that he’ll never get to pound that tight strange, and he drives off, presumably to coerce someone into his bed for the night.

Against your better judgement, you take an Uber and walk into that bar on 10th Street alone. This time, the lustful eyes of the barflies are less disgusting than they are frightening. Thankfully, the bar area has been just about cleared out, and you take a seat on a stool with a peeled cover.

Jake is busy cleaning up a spill on the far end of the counter, but when he looks up and sees you his face brightens. He drops the cloth on the table and walks towards you with a goofy smile.

“Hey, babydoll,” he says lowly, eyes sparkling. He doesn’t bother masking the fact that he’s openly checking you out, his eyes lingering on your breasts before meeting your own stare again. “Was your date that boring?”

“He was…nice,” you reply, resting your head on your hand.

Jake laughs. “Yeah, nice, sure.” He shakes his head slightly, like he can’t believe his good fortune. “You want something to drink, babe?”

“Yeah, could you make me something nice and sweet? Nothing too alcoholic.”

Jake points at you, cocking his head. “I’ve got just the thing for you.” He busies himself behind the bar, pouring this and that into a shaker. As he does, he can’t stop stealing glances at you. Every time he does, he smiles and bites his lip before looking away. Finally, he pours a light-yellow drink into a cocktail glass, carefully affixing a lemon wedge to the side before gently sliding it to you. “It’s a lemon drop,” he explains in his slow drawl.

“Thank you.” You pull your wallet out of your purse. “How much is this?”

Jake shakes his head. “Nah, for a pretty girl like you, it’s on the house.”

A smile spreads across your face, and that warmth in your chest spreads. “Are you sure?”

“Surer than anything, babe.” He gestures for you to try it, pushing his mop of hair back.

You take a sip, and your eyes widen. “This is great.” You hold the glass by the stem as you drink it.

“Thank you,” Jake says almost shyly. “Glad that I picked up something useful from bartending this shithole.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Been working here for…ten years? Owned it for three.” Jake takes a long sip of his moonshine, resting his elbows on the counter. “Not my first choice of job, but when you’re an addict and you need money, you’ll take anything.”

Your mouth opens, but Jake quickly answers your question. “I’m clean now. Been clean for five years. My only vice is this.” He holds up his tumbler and shakes it before taking another sip.

“Do you make that yourself?”

Jake nods. “I make it myself, in the back,” he says, a tinge of pride in his voice. “This must be about…80% pure alcohol, I figure.”

“Can I try some?” you ask tentatively.

Jake laughs, his face contorting in disbelief. “Are you sure, babydoll? This could knock a grown man on his feet.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you say. You hate to back down from a challenge.

With another laugh, he walks over to you, coming around the counter. He holds his glass out to you, and as you wrap your hand around the tumbler he tilts the liquid into your mouth. Jake’s eyes are fixed on your lips, awaiting your reaction.

At first, it does little to you, and you’re about to say something snarky. Then the burning starts, flames licking at your throat, and you double over coughing. Your eyes are screwed up, filled with tears, and your hands clutch the edge of the counter.

You can feel a hand rubbing your back, the other hand gently stroking your arm. “Aw, damn. You took that like a champ.”

Through hacking coughs, you eke out, “I don’t feel like a champ.”

Jake continues rubbing comforting circles on your back. “I’ve seen men collapse to their feet from a shot of moonshine. You’re a little firecracker, ain’t you?”

“Thanks,” you mutter, turning to look at him through watery eyes.

“No problem. You want some water, babydoll?”

You nod, and Jake reluctantly lets go of you to retrieve some water for you. He returns to your side with a glass, holding it up to your lips. The water is like a soothing balm for your throat, and after a long drink you sigh. “Damn.”

Jake sets the glass down and picks up his own tumbler of moonshine, taking a long swig. “That’s moonshine for you.”

Your eyes widen. “How are you drinking that so…so…”

“Like it’s water?” Jake smiles at you cheekily, leaning against the counter next to you so that his elbows are on the edge and he’s facing you. “First of all, I’ve put shit up my nose that burned more than this. Second of all, I’m used to it. When you’re dealing with this day in and day out-“ he gestures widely at the bar- “you need something good and strong to get through it.”

“Your liver must be strong as hell.”

Jake laughs, setting his tumbler down. “It must be pickled at this point.”

You can’t help but laugh, and he playfully pokes your shoulder. “Don’t laugh at my liver. It’s the only reason why I’m still standing.” Then he stills, appraising you with a careful gaze. “I never got your name, babydoll.”

You tell him your name, holding your hand out.

He takes it and shakes it firmly. “Lovely name. Suits you perfectly. My name’s Jake. Jake Sim.”

He’s still holding your hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” he murmurs. Jake holds your hand to his lips and kisses it, traces of moonshine wetting your hand. He flattens your hand and idly starts tracing your palm, his other hand circling your wrist. “You’ve got nice hands. Real nice.”

“Thank you,” you reply softly. “Yours are very rough.”

Jake laughs somewhat self-consciously. He stops drawing on your palm with his index finger. “Yeah, well, you don’t work at a place like this for damn near a decade without getting a few calluses and cuts.”

Your voice comes out as a whisper. “I like it.” You reach out and gently squeeze the tip of his finger, feeling the callus for yourself, before dropping it.

Jake smiles, but his eyes take on a dangerous glint. His finger trails from the palm of your hand to your wrist, his fingertips gliding over your veins. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

For a moment, both of you continued smiling at each other. Then Jake licks his lips, and he lets go of your wrist. His other hand now strokes your forearm. “Why’d you come back here, baby? Coming to this shithole once is one thing, but twice in the same night…”

You don’t see a point in playing games. “I wanted to see you.”

The smile drops off of Jake’s face, and he leans in towards you. “Yeah? No bullshit?”

“No bullshit.”

His other hand moves to rest on your knee, and his thumb strokes it through your jeans. “Your date didn’t do it for you?”

You shrug, picking up your lemon drop again and sipping it. “He was okay, I guess. He was weird.”

Jake’s voice is becoming low, his eyes serious. His eyes flicker over your body, settling on your thighs. This time, he doesn’t bother looking back up at you. “You don’t like weird?”

“Not that kind of weird,” you reply, your voice catching.

“You don’t like rich prick typa weird?” His voice is amused, and his hand creeps up your knee. “You prefer broke bartender at a shit bar typa weird?”

You lean in, your eyes locked onto his full, plush lips. The smell of moonshine has become less of a deterrent and more intoxicating. “Is that a problem?”

“The opposite,” Jake replies in a husky voice. His lips brush your cheek as he moves to whisper in your ear. “I’m flattered that a gorgeous lady like you has interest in me.” His right hand is now caressing your thigh slowly, intentionally. The other touches your face with his thumb.

“I’m surprised you’re flattered,” you reply, leaning into his touch slightly. “Women here must love you.”

“They love me to get free drinks out of me,” he says dismissively. “Besides…most women who come here aren’t a fraction as pretty as you are. You’re like a gem in a pigsty, you know that?” When you don’t say anything, Jake continues, running his finger along your jaw. “Your date must’ve been as stupid as hell to let you go.” He pulls away from your ear so he can look you in your eyes.

“He couldn’t do anything about it. I just didn’t want him the way-“

Jake’s eyes narrow, and he comes impossibly closer. “The way what?”

“The way I want you.”

There’s a pause, and Jake’s face is unreadable. When he does talk, his voice is strained, “Tell me you aren’t fucking with me. Tell me you’re serious. Say the word, and I’ll shut this place down and kick all these junkies out.”

You swallow, need and desire building up in the pit of your stomach. “I’m serious.”

Jake pulls away from you and walks over to the barflies, telling them to get their drunk asses out. They complain and groan, but they leave without much of a fight. Once they’re all gone, Jake locks the door. “Come here,” he says, beckoning you with his finger.

You walk towards him as if in a trance, and when you’re close he spins you around by the waist and kisses you. You readily kiss him back, your hands resting on his chest. His mouth tastes like moonshine, and you can even taste a hint of his sharp aftershave. Jake presses you up against the door, placing his knee in between your legs to trap you. The kiss starts off playful, but it grows hungry, and Jake seems as though he would swallow you if he could.

When he pulls away from your lips, a string of saliva in between your mouths, his eyes dart all over your face. Then he nods slightly, as if he’s come to some grand conclusion.

“What?” you ask, your hands snaking up to his cheek. “What is it?”

Jake pecks your lips gently and smiles. “I just realized…I’m not going to be able to take my time with you.” Before you can say anything, he wraps his arm around your waist and guides you behind the counter to a wooden door that looks liable to give one splinters.

When he opens the door, the smell of alcohol is almost staggering, and Jake’s grip tightens on your waist as if he had anticipated that reaction. Bottles of alcohol are stacked in crates on wooden shelves on the far wall. To the right rests three DIY pot stills, all using dented kegs. To the left, there’s a small faux-leather couch with chunks of it peeling off. You think back to Jay’s words about the artifice or whatever the fuck, and suddenly you wish there was at least a bit of pretense. But when you turn to Jake, he’s smiling at you like you had hung the moon in the sky yourself. “I know it’s no Hilton,” he begins sheepishly, but you shut him up by kissing him squarely on the mouth.

“It works for me,” you say, biting your lips.

Jake’s grin widens. “Shit, okay.”

You tumble together on the couch with Jake, your mouths connecting sloppily and wetly. You suck his tongue into your mouth hungrily, causing you to choke slightly. This only spurs Jake on further, and he grinds his crotch into you. Your hips rise to meet his, and you hump each other desperately and almost painfully. His hand crawls up your stomach, and he gropes at your breasts. Finally, he pushes himself off of you, settling into a kneeling position. Through the dim light filtering in through the cracks of the door, you can see that Jake’s lips are swollen, his hair messy, and his eyes wild.

“Take it off,” he grunts. “Everything. Now.”

Your hands fumble with the zipper of your jeans, excitement clogging throat. As you tug your jeans down, Jake unbuckles his belt, throwing it to the side. You kick your shoes off, shimmy your jeans off, and toss your shirt away, leaving you in only your bra and panties. When you’re suitably undressed, you look up at Jake.

Jake’s shirt is off, revealing a dark mass of skin you recognize as tattoos. One of his hands has slipped into his boxers, and he’s staring at you. A moan escapes his lips as his eyes wander your body. “So fucking perfect,” he says, voice strained as he plays with his cock. “So goddamn beautiful. Play with yourself for me, baby.”

You tentatively tug your underwear down, collecting your arousal to coat your clit before stroking it with two fingers. You’re so sensitive that just the first touches cause you to whine in pleasure.

“Spread your legs,” Jake hisses. “Nice and wide…”

You oblige, widening your legs so that Jake gets a full view of your pearly pussy. He moans again, his mouth watering at the sight of it, at the hot, sweet smell. “Let me taste it. Let me taste it,” he begs, dipping his head down.

As his wide tongue touches your clit, you cry out in pleasure. Jake laps at your clit with fervor, his hands pushing your legs apart as he licks wide stripes. His mouth makes obscene smacking noises, and when he briefly pulls away to catch his breath, his entire lower face is slick with your arousal. “So good,” he mutters before diving back in. You squirm, knowing that you’ll cum quickly if he doesn’t stop, but Jake’s nails dig into your fleshy thighs, holding you in place.

“Oh, Jake, Jake,” you pant out, head leaning back. “Jake, I’m so close, Jake…”

Seemingly encouraged by your words, Jake continues attacking your clit, and two of his bony fingers slip into your vaginal walls, spreading you open. They pump themselves in and out, in and out, like the undulations of the ocean. Like that, he rips an orgasm from you, continuing to lick the arousal spilling from you as you ride out the wave of pleasure.

You lean your head back on the armrest of the couch, trying to catch your breath. Jake gently caresses your thigh as you come down from your high, peppering your neck with kisses. “Tasted amazing,” he says, voice ragged. “Tasted like paradise.”

Your brain is so fuzzy you can hardly piece together a coherent sentence. “That was so good, Jake.”

Jake smiles at you and gives you a kiss on the mouth, slow and gentle. You greedily lick your own juices off of his lips, even sucking it off of his tongue. As you kiss, you can feel the head of his cock poking at your entrance. “Sorry,” Jake says blithely, “but I need to fuck you right now.”

You nod. “Please.”

To his credit, he takes his time. He fucks into you slowly and carefully, wanting you to adjust. He’s not long, but he’s girthy and fills you well. He feeds you his cock inch by inch, moving in and out as so not to hurt you. Once you seem at ease, he pushes your thighs up so that your knees touch your breasts and fucks you at a faster pace. After a minute or so of that position, he seemingly gets tired of it, opting to place your legs over his shoulder. This allows him to hit a sweet angle, one that has you moaning.

He’s fucking you so quickly that your breasts begin to hurt, so you cover them with your hands. Jake swats your fingers with his free hand, the other wrapped around your legs. “Stop that,” he huffs out. “Let your tits bounce.” You let go of your breasts, and he licks his finger to swirl it around your nipples, marveling at their stiffness. He kneads your breasts as he pounds into you with grunts of effort.

Jake pulls out of you, and the loss causes you to cry out. He grabs you by your shoulders and pulls you around so that your head is lolling over the edge of the armrest. He hovers over you, one hand prying your mouth open. “Need to fuck this mouth of yours. Will you let me, babydoll?”

You pant out your assent, and he slides his wet cock into your mouth. First you kitten-lick the head, tasting your own hot arousal, then he presses his cock further down, treating your mouth like a pussy. As you gag around his dick, you play with his balls, fondling them with one hand. With the other, you play with your engorged, reddened clit. This doesn’t go unnoticed by him. “You’re amazing,” Jake pants out. “Playing with yourself while you get facefucked.”

You tap his stomach, and he pulls his cock out, stroking your cheek gently. “All good?” he asks tentatively.

You nod and spit somewhere on his floor before taking him back into your mouth. “So good to me,” Jake praises. “So, so good.” Once he’s done fucking your mouth, he pulls out and his cock on your cheek, almost playfully. Then he pulls you over so that you’re flat on your stomach, your head still hanging over the edge of the couch. He spanks your ass once, twice, then slips his wet, stiff cock into your folds, moaning as he does.

This time, his pace isn’t furious, but moderate. He pulls you up so that your back rests on his chest. He’s on his knees, fucking his cock into you upright. Your hips meet Jake’s, so that you’re bouncing on his dick. He kneads your breast with one hand, the other hand holding your waist. Your lips meet in a sloppy, rushed kiss before he pushes you down and grips your hips. He pounds into you with strangled moans, sounding more animalistic than anything else.

“You like this?” he asks, the question sounding less like dirty talk and more like a desperate need for assurance.

“I like it!” Your voice is tremulous, shaking as he thrusts harder and harder into you.

“That rich prick you were with couldn’t fuck you like this, right?” He punctuates his sentence by pulling out of you before slamming himself back inside with a groan.

You moan loudly, trying to clutch the armrest for support. “No, he couldn’t. He’s nothing like you.”

“That’s right,” Jake says, closing his eyes. “He couldn’t. He couldn’t make you purr like I do.” His thrusts become sloppier and faster, and you slip your hand down so you can rub your clit to chase your own orgasm.

Peals of moans spill from your lips. “I’ve never been fucked like this before, Jake.”

“I thought so.” Jake flips you over so he can enter you from the front, pushing one of your legs to the side. He slides in and out of you with ease, your juices having pooled on the couch. “You need to be fucked like this, don’t you?”

“I need it,” you choke out, your stomach desperately burning. “I need it, Jake.”

As he comes close to orgasm, you can feel his cock twitch inside of you. “Fuck, a girl like you just begs to be treated like this.”

“That’s right,” you babble.

Jake doesn’t talk anymore, instead letting out low grunts as he comes close. Your second orgasm hits you first, and you scream out his name. The tightening of your vaginal walls is enough to bring him to climax, and with a final grunt and a low, “Fuck!” he spills into you. He pulls out of you and weakly rubs his cock to spill his last few spurts of hot cum on your stomach. Then he wearily collapses, leaning back on the opposite side of the couch.

Both of you recover from the heated session, and you gasp for air. After a while, you feel Jake’s hand on yours, and he pulls you onto him. He strokes your hair and kisses both of your cheeks. You wrap your arms around him and rest your cheek on his chest.

“I can’t just let you go,” he murmurs, fingers tangling in your hair. “I’m going to need you again soon.”

You look up at him, surprised. “Again? Soon?”

Jake laughs, his playfulness returning. “We’re going to rest up for a little, and then I’m going to take you again. We need two more rounds, at minimum. What do you say?”

“I say you’re insane,” you reply, any snark momentarily eviscerated by the residual pleasure spreading in your body.

“You like it.”

“Shut up.”

With another laugh, Jake kisses the top of your head. “You’re cute.”

You allow your eyes to flutter shut as you revel in his embrace, taking in Jake’s scent and comfort.

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quillium · 2 years

Text

Dick’s fingers stutter sometimes.

Jason doesn’t think Dick really notices. The stutter, stutter, stutter of his fingers as they tap against wood, his leg, anything they touch.

Sometimes things slip more easy through Dick’s fingers than they should. If he’s in a bad way, his whole hand shakes.

He’s never seen anyone with a hand tremor that bad. Jason doesn’t comment on it, though. It’s rude. And besides, Dick’s hands never stutter where it matters, so--so maybe it doesn’t matter so bad.

Then Jason comes back from the dead and he’s mad at Bruce and he’s mad at the whole lot of them but some days he can practically hear the Joker laugh as his crowbar cracks against Jason’s fingers and his fingers stutter, too.

Then Jason reconciles, just a little, with Bruce and the others and he’s in the kitchen making hot cocoa for Dick and his fingers stutter, stutter, stutter around the handle of the mug.

It drops with a sharp crack but luckily doesn’t break. A bit of whipped cream falls to the floor but it’s mostly fine.

Jason puts down the other mug and uses both hands to reach down.

“Best wait a bit,” Dick says, watching. “For the tremors to go. Sometimes they stay a bit.”

“I know,” Jason snaps, but listens (because he’s not stupid) and waits, hands shaky by his side.

Dick’s fingers tap against the counter top. Stutter, stutter, stutter.

“Were you born with it?” Jason asks, looking at the floor.

Dick laughs softly. “I was an aerialist, Jaybird. My parents never would’ve let me flown with hands like these. Nobody sane would.”

“Batman does, and he’s the most paranoid freak of the lot.”

“My grapples are special, Jay. You must have noticed.”

Jason did notice. They wrap twice around Dick’s wrists and have a bit for him to slot his fingers in.

“I thought that was just--you and your fancy gadgets.”

“Yeah,” Dick says, a bit wry, “Fancy gadgets to make sure I don’t kill myself.”

Jason chews on his lips and then says, “You’ve had it as long as I knew you, though. It got really bad every time you fought with Bruce.”

Dick’s eyes are cool as an untouched lake. “You know why I came to Blud, Jason?”

“Got in a fight with Bruce, didn’t you? A big one.”

“You know why we fought?”

Jason hesitates, “I... something about Robin?”

“He took Robin away from me,” Dick says flatly.

Jason sucks in a breath. “I didn’t know that.”

“What, you thought Tim started the tradition? None of the Robins willingly passed on the mantle. Bruce wasn’t exactly in the wrong, though--not that I thought so at the time.”

“What happened?”

“Dent hospitalized me.” Dick raises his voice, a high pitched mockery, “Just remember, it wasn’t me, kid. It was the bat. Then he hit me with a baseball bat. 4/10, okay idea but lame execution. Whatever. Got my fingers. I freaked, and you know that however much we freak, Bruce freaks a thousand times worse. He thought I was gonna die, so he fired me. Scared of losing his kid.”

Jason thinks there might be some old bitterness in his chest. What, so you weren’t expendable, but I was? He took Robin from you because he wanted you to live, but immediately gave Robin to me and let me die?

Out loud, Jason says, “Bruce doesn’t like you facing Two-Face.”

“Bruce always has reasons for the things he does. Even if we might think he’s irrational. I’m the oldest, after all--it’s better I face Dent than Tim, Dami, or even you.”

“I’m not a kid, Dick.”

“You’re still my kid brother, aren’t you?” Dick’s fingers stutter, stutter, stutter against Jason’s counter top.

Jason watches Dick’s fingers quietly, and then looks away.

#dc #batfam #dick grayson #jason todd #i really do want to make this into a 10k longfic but rn i'm just going with the flow #anyways enjoy <3

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jjsfavgirl · 4 months

Text

Pink tulips

.・゜゜・・゜゜・． ౨ৎ ・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

Summary: JJ Maybank buying his coquette girlfriend pink tulips just because.

Warnings: pet names and very fluffy and sweet jay<3

JJ had scrambled up as much spare change from his pockets to buy you your favourite flowers, pink tulips.

Taking a puff of his vape, he entered the shop, the bell rung through his ears as he looked around the shop, he felt like an emo at a Taylor swift concert. He was so out of place in the bright pink, calm shop with a strong flower scent that filled his tan nose.

He looked around clueless, he’s never had a real girlfriend before he met you. He’d only had summer flings and hookups. But now he had to figure out how to be the perfect material boyfriend for his new bow-loving sweet heart girlfriend.

He bit his thin nails nervously as his beaten boots shuffled across the white wooden palled floors, his hands tucked into his dirtied cargo shorts nervously as he looked around.

Red roses. No.

Pink roses. No.

Daisies. No

“Need any help, sir?” An elderly woman approached him, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, kinda.” He laughed nervously, scratching at the back of his neck while chuckling at the grey haired woman.

“Who you buying for?” She smiled at the blonde, looping around the many pots of flowers which covered the shop as JJ followed her to the front desk.

“My girlfriend, she loves pink, super girly all that stuff.” He told the woman, a wide smile stretching across his face just by telling someone about his amazing girlfriend.

“I have the perfect thing.” She grinned at the young boy, seeing how in love he was and missing her youth. He took him around the shop again and picked up a large bouquet of pink tulips.

Checking the price, he was $5 short. Shit. He thought, these were so perfect for you and he couldn’t even get them.

“Do u think they’ll work?” She asked, passing him the flowers as she walked him back to the front desk once more.

“Uh- little out of my price range.” He chuckled, politely laying the flowers in front of the woman on the marbled desk.

“I’ll cover ya honey.” She responded, opening the cash register, “you seem so in love with this girl, it’s the least I can do.”

“I can’t let you do that, I’ll just buy something else.” He replied, digging into his pockets to scruff up his change.

“Seriously, let me.”

And here he was, stood outside yours and JJ’s white bedroom door. Withdrawing a breathe he didn’t know he was holding in, he twisted the nob and let himself in.

He spotted you still snuggled in the white sheets, you looked so comfy in your pink pyjama set which JJ loved.

“Baby.” He whispered, feeling guilty about waking up his sleeping beauty.

“Huh?” You muttered, lifting your face off the now dented pillow as you sat up and rubbed your eyes tiredly.

“Hello, beautiful.” He stroked your cheek with his thumb with a smile, admiring your features which were perfectly framed by the early morning sun shining through yours and JJ’s thin curtains.

“Hi handsome.” You smiled back, lashes fluttering as you adjusted to the beaming light.

“I got you something.” He smiled brightly with a kid like excitement as his hand was hiding someyhing behind his back.

“Ooo.” You perked up at his words, sitting up in bed and crossing your legs to match his kid like exterior.

He pulled out the pink tulips, his smile reaching up to his eyes. You squealed, taking the flowers off him and smelling them deeply. Cheering three small thank you, thank you, thank you. As you deeply kissed his cheek and gazed at the flowers in awe.

“You like em’?” He asked, placing a hand on your bare thigh and rubbing up and down with his thumb.

“I love them!” You smiled brightly, wrapping one arm around your boyfriend’s neck in order to press a firm kiss on his lips.

Enjoy guys!!!

Love you all as always🫶🏻

Ivy:)

#jj maybank #obx netflix #jj maybank fic #jj maybank fluff #obx fanfiction #outer banks #obx fic #jj x reader #jj mayback imagine

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gimmethatagustd · 1 year

Text

blunt rotation | pjm

Supplying your law school classmates with weed on the regular might as well be a full-time job. It's lucrative, but lately, you've seen a dip in profits. Maybe it's because you keep giving out the Pretty Boy Discount to a certain guy in your ethics class…

↳ pairing: prettyboy!jimin x weedgirl!reader

↳ rating/genre: BTS | 18+ | law school au | classmates to lovers | smut

↳ wc/date: 7.5k | april 2023

↳ notes: on god, this fic is probably more about weed than anything else khskdjfs i would apologize but i already warned y’all, so you get what you get. these 420 fics are probs especially bad, and i decided i do not care. #blazeit

↳ masterlist

↳ what was jai listening to? a weed playlist made by yours truly

“What is the difference between ethics, morality, and law?”

Professor Kim leans against the desk at the front of the lecture hall with his hands gripping the edge on either side of his hips. The action makes the muscles in his arms flex, and you eat up the tan skin exposed by how his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. The tight white button-up accentuates plump pectoral muscles that threaten to pop and lose a few buttons. It wouldn’t surprise you if it happened. Professor Kim is known for being accidentally destructive.

It is unethical to fuck your professor because it would create a conflict of interest; you’d imagine it would be hard for Professor Kim to ethically assess your academic performance if he’d been balls deep in you.

It’s morally wrong to fuck your professor because you know he’s married, not because he has ever provided your class with information about his personal life, but because you sit at the front of the class. From your position, you can see the glint of his wedding band.

Legally, you’re pretty sure there isn’t a law against fucking your professor. It probably goes against your university’s code of conduct, but that’s not a law.

You sink further into your seat and let your eyes wander the room. Everyone diligently takes notes as Professor Kim turns to the presentation projected on the large screen behind him. Ethics and Professional Responsibility isn’t your favorite class, but no one said getting your J.D. would be fun. On the contrary, everyone you knew said it would fucking suck. And it kinda does.

One thing that doesn't suck, though, is having a class with your program’s resident pretty boy, Park Jimin.

Pretty boys aren’t your type at all. You prefer boys who are rough around the edges. You're not interested if a guy doesn’t look like he’s a one-way ticket to jail or hell. Maybe it’s the rebel in you. Maybe you like the idea that opposites attract. A lawyer and a criminal sounds like a cute ship, no?

Pretty boys are too soft for you. They’re the type to have skincare routines and listen to Jack Harlow. No thanks.

Yet your eyes always manage to find Jimin.

He’s sitting to your left and a few rows behind you, but close enough to see him when you turn your head. He sits with perfect posture as he scribbles notes on his iPad, plump lips puckered in a cute little beak of concentration.

Fuck, no, not cute. Ridiculous. Soft and childish. Everyone in the room is at least in their mid-twenties, some even in their late fifties. A prestigious J.D. program has no room for beaks and squishy cheeks.

You’re about to look away when Jimin lifts his stylus to his mouth. The end presses a small dent into his plush bottom lip. You instinctually lick your lips, though your mouth suddenly feels dry.

Jimin sits that way for a few more seconds with furrowed eyebrows as he focuses on his notes. At Professor Kim’s mention of the end-of-the-year oral argument, your classmate finally lifts his head to face the front of the room. His eyes are bright and wide, unlike the haggard look of your peers, and you watch them shift back and forth as he reads whatever is on the screen. You have no idea what Professor Kim’s talking about; your roommate, Hoseok, will fill you in when you get home.

All you know is that Jimin finally pulls his stylus away from his lips and casts a sideways glance in your direction. You lock eyes for a split second before he quickly ducks his head, suddenly interested in his notes again.

You snort loud enough for the woman sitting next to you to give you an odd look, but you ignore her and return your eyes to Professor Kim.

Your eyes don’t stray from the front of the lecture hall for the rest of the class. It’s not difficult; there isn’t anything else you find interesting enough in the room to distract you. Nothing. Especially not Pretty Boy Jimin.

🍃

“Hey, can I come over tonight?”

Two pale hands splay across your desk once the class is dismissed. Chipped, black polish adorns each nail, except for the pinkies, which are painted white.

“Why are you asking me? You don’t need my permission to visit your boyfriend’s apartment.”

“I’m trying to work on my manners, jeez.”

You roll your eyes and slide your tablet into your backpack. “Where were your manners when you and Hobi fucked on my couch? Hmm, Yoongi? Where were they then?”

Yoongi lets out a low groan as he steps to the side to let you fall in line with him as you exit the classroom. Your roommate is waiting in the hallway, always the last student to arrive and the first to leave.

“That’s different,” Yoongi huffs, though this time, the sound is due to Hoseok crushing him in a hug once they make it into the hall. “Besides, I’m asking because I’m bringing my friend. We aren’t going to stay. He just wants someone to come with him.”

Hoseok untangles his arms from Yoongi’s and adjusts his backpack. Your best friends act like surviving a three-hour class is like surviving a lifetime apart.

“Ohh, a friend?” Hoseok leans against Yoongi with his eyebrows arched. His questioning tone is fair. The three of you don’t have many friends aside from each other. It’s hard to maintain friendships with people outside of law school. There’s simply no time.

“What is this, the buddy system?” You snicker as you follow the two men to their cars. “Sorry, I only do business with adults.”

There is quite literally no reason for you to be judgemental about whoever this mystery friend is, but class has put you in a cranky mood. Probably because of stupid fucking Park Jimin with his distracting lips. Your unpreparedness for the oral argument is slowly causing anxiety to creep into your chest.

Yoongi gives you a light smack to your bicep. “Some people get nervous about this shit, you know that.”

“It’s weed, oh my god. You act like we’re cooking meth in our basement.”

Yoongi stops walking to give you a stern look with narrowed eyes and a cocked head. “You don’t even have a basement.”

“Yeah, well, it’s 2023, and weed is legal.”

“It is legal to purchase weed at a licensed dispensary. However, you are not licensed to sell weed, nor is your apartment a dispensary.”

“It’s got enough weed in it to be one,” Hoseok snorts, but the sound quickly morphs into a severe cough when Yoongi’s glare is directed at him.

Yoongi yanks his car door open and slides into the driver’s seat. Then, with one leg still on the ground and his arm holding the door open, he lets out a long sigh. “You two are insufferable.”

“Love you too, babe!” Hoseok giggles and sends his boyfriend a flying kiss as Yoongi drives out of the parking lot.

“For an anti-capitalist, Yoongi is so old-fashioned. I’m providing a product to the everyday person at a reasonable price,” you grumble while you fasten your seatbelt in Hoseok’s car. “Dispensaries are classist. They’re way too fucking expensive, and they’re all in affluent neighborhoods, anyway. The gentrification of marijuana in this country is ridiculous. Where does Yoongi think those tax funds end up? Not in neighborhoods that need them. And what about expunging people’s records? Is the government ever going to do that?”

You slump in your seat, the sudden energetic burst of social consciousness in you dying out. “I hate rich people.”

Hoseok hums in agreement, keeping his eyes on the road as he drives. “We’re about to be rich people, though.”

“Not me. Civil rights law isn’t going to make me rich, and I’m not touching corporate with a ten-foot pole.”

Yoongi and so many other people in your program are too dependent on what is and don’t stop to question what can be or what should be.

Ethics is a social construct, morality is subjective, and law is arbitrary.

Going to law school is less about learning how to be a lawyer and more about learning how to play a game.

🍃

When Park Jimin walks into your living room, all you can do is blink at him. Your eyes are red and glassy, your mouth dry even though you’ve been sipping water, and your limbs feel too gooey to bother getting up. Maybe you’re hallucinating him, which would be very upsetting because you don’t want to explore why he’s sticking around in your head.

But then Yoongi is ushering the guy to sit next to you, and the dip in the couch as he eases down feels too real.

“Ah, Jimin! You’re the friend!” Hoseok gives the newcomer a blinding smile. Smoke punctuates each word, billowing toward the ceiling. There’s already a thin haze to the room; you and Hoseok have been smoking for a while. “Welcome to our humble abode.”

Jimin gives Hoseok a small smile. He also turns to give you one, but it falters when you meet his gaze.

You’re not sure what expression you’re wearing. It could be anything, really. Or nothing at all.

“Hi,” he says quietly. His lips are so pink. You want to ask him how soft they are.

“How much do you want?” Is what you ask instead.

Jimin turns to Yoongi, who is now cuddled up with Hoseok on the other side of the room. The chair is made for only one person, but they have never known personal boundaries. You suppose if they’re dating, it doesn’t matter.

“Just give him an eighth,” Yoongi says with a dismissive wave. He’s more focused on plucking the blunt from Hoseok’s lips and bringing it to his own.

“Of what?” You huff your words, twisting the joint you’ve got between your middle finger and thumb. It’s clear that Jimin knows nothing about weed. He can’t even come up with a measurement or a strain.

Yoongi glares at you as if this is somehow your fault before saying, “Anything. Maybe not Girl Scout Cookies or Sour Diesel, though. I don’t want his brain melting out of his ears.”

Jimin makes a slight noise of surprise at that.

“Kidding,” Yoongi teases. “Well, about the brain-melting part. I mean it about the strains, though.”

Leaving your joint in an ashtray on the coffee table, you stand up with a groan. Moving is low on your list of things to do right now. The indica you’ve been smoking makes your movements feel slow, though you can’t tell if they actually are.

“Come on,” you mumble, gesturing for him to follow you down the hall. He goes without a word, eyes wide as if he’s about to discover something profound within the walls of your apartment. You don’t want to admit how cute he is, just as timid in your apartment as in class.

“We keep everything in the office. It’s super organized, but I guess that’s expected.” You don’t know why you’re rambling (yes, you do, it’s the weed).

Jimin nods. “Makes sense.”

He’s so cute, you think, when he asks if he wants you to close the door once you’ve reached the office. As if there is something to hide in here. Hoseok and Yoongi are the only other people in the apartment.

“I’m going to give you a hybrid. You know what that means?”

Jimin hovers over you when you crouch next to a dresser with multiple drawers. Numerous glass jars, all labeled with pieces of white tape and messy handwriting, are stacked in the drawer you open. You sift through them, taking a few to inspect before placing them back again.

“I do not.” At least he’s honest.

“It’s the happy medium between sativa and indica. Sativa gives you a head high. People tend to feel alert and creative sometimes. Indica gives you a body high. It’s the stereotypical kind of weed people talk about that makes you lazy and get the munchies. It’s because sativa has more THC than CBD, whereas indica is more CBD-heavy. Think about how people use CBD products when they’ve got joint pains or anxiety, right?”

“Oh, I didn’t know that.” The statement is redundant, but you don’t mention it. Jimin looks like he hangs onto your every word as though his life depends on it. It’s funny, and you have to stop yourself from laughing at him.

Finding what you’re looking for, you hand a jar to Jimin. “It’s already weighed, so you can take the whole thing.”

Jimin holds the jar like it’s a newborn. This time, you let a few giggles slip out.

“Do you have something to smoke it with? A piece or a bong?”

A shake of his head is no surprise, but you act shocked because you’re high and feeling good, and you love how he looks when his eyes grow wide.

“Wow, you’re so cute,” you say with a grin that starkly opposes the shy blush that paints Jimin’s face. “You probably don’t know how to roll either, do you?”

Another shake of his head. Of course.

It’s not difficult to show Jimin how. You pull up another chair at your desk and push away all your notes and textbooks for school to clear a path to work. You show him how to grind the weed and roll a blunt and a joint — so he can figure out which one he likes better.

Jimin’s body is warm as he presses against yours, your shoulders bumping into each other every time you move your arm. He keeps close, eyes glued to your hands as you work slowly but diligently. It’s a bit disarming having him so close. Aside from the occasional hello during class, you’ve never really talked to Jimin. Concentrating with all his Pretty Boy energy fogging up your mind is tricky.

Or is it the weed? Nah, it’s the weed.

“If you end up not liking either, go to a head shop to buy a bowl — it’s a pipe. Maybe don’t go with a bong yet. Yoongi can help you. He likes bowls better, so he’ll have good recommendations.”

Once finished, you slip the blunts and joints into a ziplock bag. When you pass it to Jimin, you can’t help but let your fingers brush against his. The touch sends waves of hot electricity up your arm. The shock of it makes your entire body tingle. Sure, the weed is making your body extra sensitive, but it’s not only that. He’s so fucking hot.

You don’t realize you’re staring at him. It’s hard not to stare or even know where to begin. His plush, pillowy lips? His fluffy, dirty-blonde hair that falls into his eyes? So cute that you don’t even care when he has to do a Bieber flip to get his bangs out of his face?

And, fuck, he’s not wearing the usual crisp white Oxford shirt and black chinos get-up. He must have gone home to change after class because now he’s wearing a form-fitting black t-shirt (probably designer from the looks of it) and grey jogger sweatpants that do nothing to hide how thick his thighs are and you’re sure if you get a chance to look at his ass you’ll find that that part of his body is thick, too. Expensive athleisure wear looks even better on him than professional clothing. It makes him look soft.

“Thank you,” Jimin says, speaking your name softly, and you feel like your knees grow weak at the sound of it tumbling from lips like those. “I’m sorry, I feel like I barged in here and took up your time. Not knowing anything… I’m sure you’re used to people with more knowledge than I do.”

Shaking your head, you guide Jimin out of the office and lock it behind you. “Don’t worry about it. Everyone has to start somewhere, right?”

It’s funny that he’s concerned about something like this, as if marijuana knowledge is so embarrassing not to have.

When you turn around, you realize the two of you are standing way too close. Your apartment isn’t a shoebox, but it certainly isn’t large. The hallway is slim, and Hoseok has a million and one plants and decorative furniture scattered around for the “aesthetic,” which makes it even harder to navigate tight spaces.

You’re not complaining, though. This close, you can see that Jimin is wearing contacts that make his eyes hazel, little flecks of orangish-brown highlighting his naturally dark irises.

Jimin’s eyes drop to your lips, and you feel your stomach drop along with them. Even though you’re not touching each other, your skin tingles with the knowledge that you could be touching. He’s so close. All it would take is one tiny shuffle forward, and you could slot yourself against his nimble — but what you assume is a very solid — frame.

“Yeah,” he speaks as he releases a soft exhale. You feel his warmth and shudder. “Thank you, still.”

“No problem,” you whisper.

Jimin’s tongue darts out to run across his bottom lip. His teeth draw it in slightly, and when he lets go, you can see how his lip bounces back into place.

Dragging your eyes back to meet his takes an embarrassing amount of effort. He’s finally looking at your eyes, too, with an expression you don’t understand because you don’t really know him.

“How much do I owe you?”

Right. Because he’s here with Yoongi for a reason. You swallow, turning your head to the side to hopefully break whatever spell Jimin and weed have put you under.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Jimin inhales sharply, but you keep your eyes down. “I must pay you something. I don’t know what’s a standard amount.”

If you were anyone else, you could honestly rip him off. The guy has no clue — he is even admitting that he doesn’t! But there are embers smoldering in the pit of your stomach.

“Nope,” you say with a tone of finality. You can hardly think before your following words slip out of your mouth like snakes. “Pretty Boys get weed free of charge.”

“W-w-what?” Jimin looks unbearably cute when he’s confused. It’s almost too much for you to handle.

So you don’t.

Without another word, you head back to the living room. Jimin follows silently. You’re sure his face is still painted with shock because Yoongi gives the two of you an odd look.

“Right where I left you,” you tease.

Untangling his limbs from Hoseok’s, Yoongi lets out an old man grunt and stands. You hadn’t believed him when he said he wouldn’t be staying, but it’s clear that he’s sticking to his promise when he starts patting down his legs to make sure he has his keys.

“Got what you need, Chim?”

Chim? How close are Yoongi and Jimin? And why are you only now learning of this friendship?

Jimin nods, his bottom lip between his teeth once again. He insists that you’ve been a great help to him, all while keeping his eyes locked with yours. It’s so different than his shy avoidance in class.

“Don’t worry, Yoong,” you insist as you plop back on the couch. Your joint is patiently waiting for you. “I took good care of him.”

🍃

You’ve never been very good at math, but it doesn’t take a mathematician to know that Pretty Boy Jimin ends up costing you hundreds of dollars as the semester progresses.

All your peers will walk away from law school making six figures easily. But not you. You just had to give a shit about the world, didn’t you? You just had to pick an area of law that values protecting human rights over making a profit.

God, being a good person is so hard!

And now, Park Jimin is sucking you dry before you can even earn money. Every time his fat little ass sashays away from your apartment with another jar of free weed, you can practically hear the chime of money signs ringing out with each step.

There’s a worse feeling, though. It hadn’t occurred to you until now, as you stand in the entranceway of Jimin’s apartment unit, your backpack carrying precious cargo inside slung over one shoulder.

Allowing Jimin to walk out of your apartment with the Pretty Boy Discount of free marijuana hurts your pocket, but doing a free weed delivery is even more pathetic. You're wasting your own time and gas money to drive to Park Jimin’s motherfucking apartment to deliver him weed that you aren’t even going to charge him for simply because he’s hot.

Maybe this is the terrible consequence of abstaining from sex to “focus on school” — as if smoking weed with Hoseok all day isn’t a distraction. But, on the other hand, maybe you just need to get laid.

Dipping on this commitment would be easy, you think as you bounce on the balls of your feet. You could leave right now before Jimin answers the door, ask Hoseok to handle Jimin’s future requests, and put all of this behind you. But, of course, the entire situation is ridiculous anyway. You don’t even know Jimin. Not really.

There’s a clicking sound from the other side of Jimin’s front door. Logically, you know it’s the sound of him unlocking the door, but your nerves tell you it’s the sound of your fate being locked into place. It may as well be because Jimin opens the door with a smile that puffs up his cheeks, his hair looks damp, and he smells like body wash.

Fuck.

“Hi!” His voice squeaks, but a deep cough returns it to a normal tone. “I mean, uh, I appreciate you coming by.”

Your tongue presses into your cheek as you regard him for a moment. He might consider your silence as negative because he quickly sidesteps to allow you into his apartment.

You give Jimin a smirk. “I think you should at least give me a tip.”

“O-oh, I mean… oh, um,” he stutters, and you can’t help but laugh.

A rush of air escapes your nostrils in a low-energy, nearly silent laugh. While coming to Jimin’s place might seem like a lot of effort, the truth is that you’re bored, and lately, you’ve been seeking anything to get your mind off the loneliness you feel when your apartment is dark and Hoseok is with Yoongi.

So, even though part of you chastises yourself, you’re willing to risk looking pathetic or desperate if it means you can have someone to smoke with and get some time away from your too-quiet apartment. Not because Jimin is the most attractive person you’ve ever seen in your entire life.

Jimin’s pretty eyes widen, and you quickly wave your hand to brush off his sudden panic.

“I’m kidding,” you confess as you twist your backpack around your body to pull out a small glass mason jar. It’s cute how concerned he is.

No, not cute. Naive. You shake yourself out of the feeling.

”Well, come on then.” You walk through Jimin’s apartment into the living room. It’s your first time making a delivery with him, so you’ve never been to his apartment. Yet you walk through the building with unearned familiarity. You’ve got manners; sometimes, you choose not to use them.

“How have you and Hoseok been?”

“Prepping for finals. And that fucking oral argument Kim’s got us doing,” you groan. School talk wasn’t something you had in mind when you showed up, but in the months you’ve spent getting to know Jimin more, you’ve learned he’s a total nerd. He’s probably excited about the assessment.

“Sometimes I think he’s trying to kill us,” Jimin says with a slight grin. “Is it ethical, moral, or legal to terrify your students to the point of throwing up before evaluations?”

“Don’t tease Yoongi like that! You know he has public speaking anxiety!”

Jimin does a little half-skip to avoid your attempt to slap his chest. Although you know the both of you are drowning in student loans and law school tuition fees, the apartment is much nicer than expected. You wonder if Jimin has a roommate. He’s never mentioned one before.

“Don’t tell him, or he’ll beat me up.”

Eyerolls aren’t a commitment to anything, but you know Jimin knows you wouldn’t dare repeat his words.

Plopping onto his couch, you scoot the coffee table between your knees and set the jar down. Beside the jar, you place everything you need to roll for Jimin, including a grinder and swishers. You could have rolled it all in advance, but you don’t like to feel rushed. Prepping is the best part. It relaxes you.

Jimin slowly slides into place beside you on the couch. He leaves enough room between the two of you to be respectful, although something tells you it’s less about his desire to make you feel comfortable and more about his discomfort.

He’s nervous, but you don’t know why. He keeps dragging his palms against his thighs, roughly rubbing his jeans. Every once in a while, he lifts his hand to touch his bottom lip. Then, when you sneak a glance at him, he quickly turns away. There’s nothing of note to look at in the apartment, but he seems engrossed in something for those fleeting moments before you’re sure he’s looking at you once again.

“I should probably learn how to do this… Like, properly… I can’t remember everything you did the first time,” Jimin mumbles. When you look up, his cheeks are dusted a light pink.

“Sorry, I probably went too fast that time.” You give him an apologetic look that makes his face redden even more. “It’s not as hard as people make it out to be. Just need a good teacher.”

If Jimin expects you to be his teacher again, he doesn’t say so. You could be. You can’t stop yourself from giving the guy free weed; you might as well add comprehensive rolling lessons in the mix.

By this point, rolling a blunt is about muscle memory; you don’t have to use an ounce of brainpower. Your eyes can wander, sweep over the contents of Jimin's living room, your thoughts floating off to wonder about the little details of the man’s life you aren’t privy to. Who are his friends? Where is his family? You look for photographs on shelves or hanging on the walls, items that are a staple in your and Hoseok’s apartment. Would Yoongi be in any of his photos? So many people in the city come in like ghosts.

“Do you, um, would you like to stay?”

Jimin's voice pulls you back to the living room, where your hands have already finished two blunts without you realizing it.

"Isn’t that what you meant when you said I could smoke with you?" You question around the blunt you’ve brought between your lips, pausing to light it.

Jimin shakes his head, not as an answer to your question, but to himself. “Yes, of course.”

“You wanna share this or smoke your own?" You can keep working on rolling the rest in the meantime.

Rather than answer your question verbally, Jimin does something that makes your heart fall into the pit of your fucking stomach. The supposedly shy, naive man parts his lips and juts his chin toward you.

The meaning behind his action hits you in the chest immediately. You let your eyes drift over his mouth, and you try not to react when his tongue swipes across his bottom lip while he patiently waits for you to give him what he wants. And you’re gonna do it, too. No questions asked.

Pinching the blunt between your middle finger and thumb, you twist on the couch to face Jimin with your legs tucked beneath you. Of course, if your fingertips brush against his lips when you place the blunt between them, that’s no one’s business, and you fucking plead the fifth, thanks.

Jimin’s eyes never leave yours when he wraps his lips around the blunt and inhales. He takes the hit like a champ, not coughing once despite the smoke’s thickness when he exhales. It’s been a few months since he started coming to you for weed. You shouldn’t be proud of his improvement, but you are anyway. Even if it’s weird to be.

“Thanks.” Jimin looks like a droopy-eyed dragon, eyes heavy and narrow when he expresses his appreciation. His voice is low and thick, and it makes your stomach swoop.

You nod your head and take the blunt from him. “No problem.”

Time is hardly discernible in normal circumstances for you, especially when you’re high. So you can’t imagine how long you sit with Jimin on his couch, watching smoke billow in the air and talking about how unfortunate it is that Frank Ocean and Rihanna ghosted the music industry.

For a while, the two of you fall silent. You lean your head against the couch and close your eyes, content with listening to the music Jimin put on until another thought enters your mind. One you can’t bring yourself to ignore.

“You ever fucked while you’re high?”

You ask the question once you and Jimin have finished the first blunt and move on to the second. The lighter you’re using is hot pink with blue and purple flowers printed on it. Something feels fitting about that.

The question takes you by surprise even though you’re the one asking it, unsure why you’re asking it aside from knowing the weed will make you more likely to speak your mind. Jimin, though. The poor guy is even more startled. As he should be, you think.

His hand trembles slightly when he passes you the blunt when it’s your turn to take a hit. “Uhh, um, have I— what?”

You roll your eyes and blow a smoke ring in Jimin’s direction. You wait for his coughing to subside before you repeat yourself.

“Have you ever had sex while under the influence of marijuana, Jimin-ssi?”

“No…”

“Hmm, you should. It’s really fun. Feels good.”

“Oh.”

“Do you wanna try it now?”

It’s comical how Jimin gulps, literally gulps, like a fucking cartoon character. “Now?”

Marijuana is an aphrodisiac. It won’t make Jimin want you, but it’s clear from his suggestive behavior that he already does. The weed will simply, hopefully, make him less nervous about it.

You pretend you don’t notice how he shifts to press his thighs together on the couch.

“Come on,” you encourage him. “Stop thinking so much.”

You know you’re too forward and sudden, but it feels justified because you’ve been thinking about Jimin for months. The buildup over the past few months has been stifling.

Giving consent is what finally unlocks something in Jimin. One moment he’s staring at you with wide, timid eyes; the next, he’s got his hand around your throat.

With a light squeeze, Jimin pulls you into him to slot his lips with yours. Holding back a moan is nearly impossible when his tongue pries your lips open. It’s wet and hot, and your skin tingles when you taste the smoke on him when his tongue curls around your own. Smoking always makes you feel warm, but you feel like you’re on fire when Jimin whimpers into your mouth. His pace is unrelenting. You feel like you’re tripping over yourself as you attempt to keep up with the quick work of his lips. The effort has you practically straddling his lap.

Tightening his grip on your throat, Jimin uses it to tilt you how he wants you. A pleased hum vibrates against your mouth when he hears you moan from the pressure of his fingers digging into the soft skin of your neck. It’s only when you start to get lightheaded, and your lips slow that Jimin finally pulls away.

His eyes' heavy, sensual look remains, but you’re surprised to find his slick lips forced into a frown.

“I’m sorry.”

You could ask why, but you assume Jimin’s forwardness isn’t typical behavior. The good thing is that it is for you.

Rather than address the unnecessary tension, you let your lips do all the work and pull Jimin in for another ruthless kiss.

“I don’t wanna hear any apologies from you,” you murmur against his mouth. “The only thing I want your lips doing is eating me out.”

Jimin lets out a high-pitched whine that sets something dangerous off, buzzing through your body. “Please.”

Maybe you’re pathetic with how quickly you strip yourself of your clothes, but Jimin doesn’t seem to care. His eyes never leave your body as you toss the clothing onto the floor. “You’re so beautiful…”

“Yeah?” You lean with your back against the arm of the couch, scooting down slightly so you can let your legs fall open.

He nods sharply and is silent momentarily as he rubs his palms down the length of your legs, settling between them.

"I've always wanted to talk to you," Jimin speaks with a hushed tone. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh. "I just get nervous. I'm sure that seems pretty lame."

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak. Every touch sends goosebumps pebbling across your skin. It’s exhilarating. You feel like your entire body is a hot wire, sparking and buzzing at a dangerous frequency.

"Yoongi said this would be a good way for us to get to know each other. The weed, not this this!" It's shocking to you how adorable he can be at the same time he sucks the skin of your inner thigh into his mouth, swirling his tongue around after biting down hard enough to make you gasp.

Your head falls back as you feel the tip of Jimin’s tongue drags along your clit. He swirls it around, drawing small circles in a steady rhythm. Every time his tongue pulls back, you can hear a soft smacking sound of his lips. He’s likely swallowing the drool collecting in his mouth. You’re sure he’s probably getting a bad case of cotton mouth from the excessive sound.

It makes you smile knowing he’s that sensitive. It takes much more weed in your system to start feeling dry in the mouth, but you’ve been smoking more years than Jimin and at a higher frequency.

“Oh fuck,” you moan out a misshapen puff of smoke when Jimin’s tongue returns to your clit.

This time he wraps his plush lips around it and suckles lightly, using his tongue to flick from side to side. His little grunts and moans make your pussy vibrate, sending a tingling sensation through the inside of your thighs and down to your toes.

Your hand shakes as you bring the blunt back to your lips. A whine tries to break through, but you force it back down your throat as you inhale more smoke. It’s hard when your body feels like it’s burning up.

Every gentle touch of Jimin’s lips and tongue on your skin feels like a punch to your stomach in a way that is so deliriously delicious you can hardly take it. Wetness drips down your pussy and smears against your thighs, either from your arousal or Jimin’s drool or both, but you don’t care how messy it is when Jimin pulls back enough to spit more onto your clit.

You let out a surprised sound, lifting your head slightly to see a string of saliva connect Jimin’s pouty bottom lip with your skin.

Fuck, you didn’t think Pretty Boy had it in him.

Using two fingers, Jimin spreads his spit around your clit, pushing it down until he slides into your pussy with ease. You didn’t need the extra lubrication, but you groan at the wet sound that echoes through Jimin’s apartment as he thrusts his fingers deep inside you. He brings his lips back to your clit, sucking harder and massaging your skin with his tongue even faster to match the pace his fingers take.

When he finally locates the spot that makes your legs shake, hitting it repeatedly, you dig your fingers into his fluffy hair and yank his head back.

“H-h-here,” you stutter, pressing the blunt against his lips. They’re shiny, and the idea of sticking a wet blunt between your lips makes you want to cringe, but you don’t care because his lips are shiny with you.

Jimin doesn’t stop thrusting into you, but his pace slows as he concentrates on taking another hit.

“I’m so fucking hard,” he groans. With the blunt between his lips, Jimin’s hands fly to unbutton his jeans. Another groan sounds around the blunt once he’s freed himself of the retraining pants.

You let out a quiet sigh as you try to collect yourself while Jimin smokes. “I told you it feels good. It’s different, isn’t it?”

“Mhmm…”

There’s a large wet patch staining the front of Jimin’s briefs. It makes the fabric stick to his cock, clearly outlining his length and girth — big enough to make you drool but small enough that you won’t go home sore and regretful.

“Lemme ride you.” You use your free hand to push Jimin into the back of the couch. He plants his feet on the floor and spreads his thighs as you get comfortable in his lap. “Wanna smoke the rest while we fuck.”

Your head is in the clouds, your body melting like butter as Jimin skirts his hands along your sides. He eventually pauses to squeeze your hips, and you swear you can feel him all over you.

It’s quick work, tugging down the final article of clothing separating the two of you. It’s hard not to stare, especially when Jimin twitches and shivers with every light touch of your fingertips along the ridges and veins of his cock.

Your clit drags against the head of his cock when you adjust in his lap, and you let out a ragged moan.

“Soaked,” Jimin murmurs, “You’ve got me all wet.”

It’s true. Jimin’s thighs glisten from where you’ve leaked all over him. Your clit throbs so much it’s beginning to hurt from the sensitivity.

“Condom,” you practically wheeze out. “If you go in raw, you’re probably gonna bust a nut immediately, and I’m not interested in that for many reasons.”

Jimin’s face turns even pinker.

“O-okay, give me a second, please.” So fucking polite, and for what?

He holds you at the base of your spine with one hand as he leans forward to snatch his jeans with his other hand. There’s a condom in his wallet, so you assume your classmate isn’t all innocent.

It’s quick work rolling the condom on. Uninterested in teasing yourself further because you feel like you’ll die if you don’t orgasm soon, you push Jimin hard against the back of the couch. You slip down his cock with ease, with no stretch or sting, from how turned on you are.

“I feel like I’m already gonna come.” Jimin throws his head back against the couch.

His lips fall open, and you quickly snatch the blunt from them so it doesn’t fall and burn one of you. He looks beautiful, angelic even. His lips are puffy and pink, his cute little mismatched front teeth peeking out. His tongue flicks around his mouth as his breathing grows heavier.

You squeeze one of his shoulders with your free hand while your other keeps the blunt pinched to your lips. As you take a drag, you lift your hips and quickly bring them back down, your ass slapping Jimin’s thighs as you engulf his cock again. Your skin sounds wet and sticky, but Jimin’s whine drowns out the sound.

“Shit,” he hisses. Blunt nails dig into your skin, but it doesn’t hurt; it only feels good. Everything feels so good.

You hardly notice how hard you shake as you slam yourself down on Jimins’ cock again. Your head is too spacey to go fast, but you do your best to set a steady pace of bouncing on Jimin’s cock. It doesn’t matter if he’s already going to come. You feel your orgasm building up with every squeeze of his fingers and the pathetic moans from his mouth.

You lean forward to latch your lips to the base of Jimin’s neck when he again drops his head. Pulling the skin into your mouth, you suck hard. You know the shock the discomfort will send across his body, pain that quickly morphs into pleasure and makes his cock twitch inside you.

“Jesus Christ.” Jimin reaches up to brush his bangs away from his eyes. Sweat makes the hair remain in place, pushed up, making him look as wrecked as he sounds. His cheeks are bright red now, and the color bleeds down his neck, where you’re sure his chest is bright red, too.

Fuck, why didn’t you take off his shirt? It feels like a quick and dirty fuck, although you’re not sure you want it to be. You’re unsure what you want this to be or mean. Or how you want it to feel.

All you know is that you feel like you’ll come at the sight of Jimin’s toned stomach and chest when you pull the hem of his shirt up to bunch it right above his nipples.

Holding onto the fabric gives you more leverage to pick up your pace. It’s needed because Jimin is a puddle beneath you. His arms are tossed to his slides like they’re made out of rubber, flopped onto the couch cushions. He can barely lift his hips. He only makes a few weak attempts to thrust into you before he’s whining again, head lolled to the side with furrowed eyebrows. He looks so fucked out.

“Please, ahh, fuck, please,” Jimin begs, though you’re not sure for what.

“Wanna come, pretty boy?” You squeeze his t-shirt harder and yank it slightly, just enough to pull Jimin’s back a few inches from the couch. “You’re gonna have to work harder. I already gave you so much.”

Jimin’s eyes roll in pleasure when you clench around him, little “oh’s” and “ah’s” punched out of him. “Okay, yes, yes, fuck, yes, I’ll be soooo—”

You bring his hands back to your waist as he babbles. The contact must give him a bit of clarity because he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and begins to thrust into you hard.

“I’ll. Be. So. Fucking. Good.” Every word is punctuated by a mind-shattering thrust as Jimin pulls you down onto his cock.

If you were on the edge before, you’re falling by the time he picks up the pace and thrusts into you even harder. The buildup was long and hot, yet your orgasm hits you so hard it might as well have been a surprise.

You curl into yourself and press your face into the crook of Jimin’s neck while he continues his unforgiving rhythm until he comes with a choked-out moan of your name.

The silence should be uncomfortable. How awkward and irrational was it to simply… tell Jimin that you wanted to fuck? And for Jimin to go along with it? Casual hookups aren’t really your thing. Pretty Boy Jimin seems to be the exception for everything, though.

Heavy breathing fills the silence as the two of you try to calm down, your chests rising and falling in tandem. It’s comforting to lean all your weight on Jimin, despite how his bunched-up t-shirt presses uncomfortably into your chest. Even the feeling of his cock softening inside of you doesn’t bother you any.

At some point, Jimin had placed the blunt in the ashtray on the coffee table. It's shocking that he had the mind to do so; you would have accidentally burned a hole into his comfy, expensive-looking couch. It's a good thing you had the mind to use a condom. Imagine burn marks and cum stains. Sheesh.

The kiss Jimin presses to your temple when he turns his head feels way more domestic than you deserve. You smile, teeth pressed against his skin, despite yourself. You can blame the giddiness you feel on the weed, and not whatever Pretty Boy Jimin has done to trigger warmth inside your chest.

“I think I gave you more than the tip…”

With narrowed eyes, you lift your head from Jimin’s neck to look him square in the face so quickly that you’re worried you might pull a muscle in your neck. “You’re not fucking funny.”

Jimin lets his head fall back to laugh hard enough that his eyes squeeze shut. It’s so endearing that you overlook such a bad joke. Pretty Boy Jimin seems to get away with a lot. You don’t mind it as much as you act like you do.

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

#jimin x reader #bts fanfic #bts x reader #jimin fanfic #jimin smut #bts smut #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #blunt rotation #420

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pandorasb1tch · 1 year

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𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐃𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐫│𝒥𝒶𝓈𝑜𝓃 𝒯𝑜𝒹𝒹 𝓍 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

❣ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: smut, one-shot, dom!Jason Todd x fem!sub!reader, car sex

❣ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: mature, harsh language, smut/sex

❣ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1, 182

❣ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: This is my first time writing smut in 7 years :') also first tumblr post ever omg// go easy on me i beg <3

"Does it have to be right now Jay?" I whined, practically being dragged by the tall, dark-haired man down the aisles of the Gotham City Mall. Through the crowds of people passing by, my eye managed to catch a store while passing by, "Jason! Wait! You know I wanted to stop in Bath & Body! Their new Fall scents are out Jason!" I pleaded, but to no avail.

"We can come back after, darling. But this? This can't wait." He turned his head over his shoulder enough for me to catch his flustered expression, his pace quickening as we neared the front doors of the mall. I let out a huff in annoyance, following him to the parking lot.

Ten minutes earlier, I had brought Jason to a lingerie store to buy new panties, as a majority of mine had ended up ripped and torn due to a certain someone. I had taken a peak at some of the fancier get-ups, modelling them for Jason, when I managed to snag a glimpse of a certain prominent feature leaving a dent in his pants, and a very red and embarrassed face. And now, I'm getting pushed through the backseat of my car.

"Jeez, Jay, someone's excited," I chuckled, not quite sure if I was more talking about him or his friend between his legs.

My laughter was cut short as he climbed over me, smashing his lips into mine and fiddling with the button of his jeans. "Shut up, god you're such a tease y/n, you know that?" He growled in between sloppy kisses, beginning to pull his pants down over his thighs.

I smiled, wrapping my arms around his neck, knowing damn well my devious little plan had worked. I pulled away, "but Jay, we're in public, we're surrounded by cars, what if-" I was cut off by a rough hand covering my mouth.

"Exactly. All parked cars. Nobody will see, and if they do, then they've earned themselves a free show. Now, be a good girl, and do as I say, understood?" He practically stared into my soul as he made his demands. I nodded, staring back into his lust-filled eyes, "Good. That's my girl." He spoke with a dark tone.

He moved his hand, slipping his two fingers into my mouth, softly plunging them in and out while his other hand worked on pushing my skirt up above my waist. Pushing my panties to the side, he withdrew his fingers from my mouth and brought them down to my entrance, sliding up and down my folds slowly, mixing my saliva and slick all over my puffy pussy. I whined, begging for him to push his fingers in through my wetness. He let out a cocky scoff, shoving his two fingers deeply into my throbbing cunt. I let out a whimper, squeezing my eyes and throwing my head back. His fingers curled and danced inside of me, brushing and rubbing against my sweet spot, his calloused thumb circling my clit as I groaned in ecstasy.

"God, you are fucking perfect, princess," he groaned, quickening his fingers. He grabbed my chin, forcing it back up and went back in for a sloppy kiss. Moaning into his lips, I struggled under him as my orgasm neared, grabbing his arm tightly and pulling his hair. He let out a low groan, pulling away and retracting his fingers from my desperate pussy. I whined at the loss of his touch, before my panties were ripped from me and discarded to the front of the car.

'Well, back to the lingerie store after this,' I internally sighed, but my thoughts were cut off by the head of his dick rubbing against my sopping folds.

"Fuck princess... you're so wet for me, how cute," he huffed, rubbing his length against my bundle of nerves.

I whined, "please Jay.." trying to force my body closer to him.

"Yeah, that's it. Tell me what you want baby, tell me what you want daddy to do to you." He commanded, teasing his tip at my entrance, looking down at me almost as if I were his little pet to boss around.

"I.. I want you in me baby. Please, fuck me," I begged, whimpering at the emptiness inside of me. Jason released a breathy smirk, slowly sliding as much of himself as he could into me, an inch or so to spare. My mouth shot open, a squeak forcing its way out of me as I grabbed the seat for support. Jason began to slowly pump in and out, a low moan escaping his mouth as he gripped my inner thighs.

"Fuck princess, you're so fucking wet for me. Such a dirty little slut, aren't you? Submitting to my cock so easily?" He moaned again as he sped up, "fuck... you like that you pretty little slut?" He started to pound harder.

I nodded my head, "fuck- yes daddy," squeezing my eyes shut and gripping onto his arms.

He lifted my legs over his shoulders and around his neck, forcing my shirt and bra up with his free hand, "fuck baby, that's it. You're such a good girl." he began to pound into me relentlessly, his rough hands finding my tits and thumbing my nipples as he forced in and out of me.

I was a hot, moaning mess. My hands struggling to hold onto him, nails digging through his skin. My eyes rolled back and my mouth hung open lazily as I babbled nonsense mixtures of moans and pleads. No doubt the car was shaking like an earthquake from the outside, many odd noises erupting from it.

Jason reached one hand down and rubbed at my clit while his cock roughly slammed in and out of my swollen cunt, the sound of slapping skin and strings of moans and curses drowning out anything happening in the real world. "Fuck daddy.. gonna... cum!" I managed to squeak out in between hasty pants.

"Good girl. Cum for me princess, I want you to cum all over my cock you pretty little mess." He pumped harder, keeping his pace at a quick thrust. I gripped his arms, hard, letting out loud and intense moans and whines. "That's it, that's my good girl. Cum with me you little slut, just like that." My walls tightened and the long-lasting knot in my stomach exploded with bliss, stars clouding my vision as I let out my sweet release in a fit of curses and sobs. Jason groaned as he pumped his thick warm liquid deep into my cunt, slowing with each pace.

We sat silent for a moment, the sound of panting and steamy windows feeling like the only presence for a moment. Jason pulled out, pulling his pants back up over his hips. I whined at his removal but began to pull my skirt back down.

"I love you, darling," he leaned down and pecked me on the lips.

"I love you too, my sweet," I smiled and sat up

He smiled sheepishly, "alright, now let's go get you your pumpkin spice perfume or whatever."

do you guys get the title cause its like a quickie and a detour since its in a car and im funny i swear :D

I hope this was okay!! Any suggestions for prompts/characters shoot me a suggestion! <3

#smut #jason todd #jason todd x reader #one shot #jason todd oneshot

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yocioon · 11 months

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⠀ “i wanna feel every inch, baby.”

𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐀𝐒𝐒 𝐔𝐏 . . . he’s had an eye for you ever since he attended one of your dance competitions. they were low key. grounded. something only few people in town knew about, let alone even attended. yeah, sure, it was a coverup for.. other activities, but the main eye candy was you. also, your team, of course. but you were front and center for all performances, so everyone’s attention revolved around how smoothly your body moved.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀the sweat beads that tainted your perfectly silky skin were incomparable to the absolute raw adrenaline rush that surged your body the moment you stepped onto that prattled and dented flooring. it wasn’t ideal, but you had to work with what you got. tossing and turning on the floor caused bruising, sure, but you made up for it by complimenting your aggression with an equally fierce look spread across your face.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀he loved every part of you. your expressions. your sharpness. your body language. your outfits. everything.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀he especially loved a specific move you did in all of your performances where you’d slowly maneuver your chest to the ground with your legs spread out on either side. then, you’d retract with your ass perked up perfectly, moving it up and down according to the beat of the song playing.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀it entranced everyone. including himself. and when he had alas got you to invite him over for a “few drinks” he was able to slip in a request he’d been dying to ask you. well, not so much as ask, per se. but with how much he had to drink, he thought he was asking you.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ “ass up, just like your little trick” a simple phrase that caught you off guard, yet the alluding slurring of words that weaved its way into his speech danced around your head and caused you to listen oh so obediently.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀the next few actions were a complete and utter blur. except for when his girthy erection slipped through your drenched folds with ease, a squealed moan trickling from your lips as your eyes rolled back completely. your face was slump into the pillow below you, his hand firmly engraving into the dip between your shoulder blades as he aligned his opposite hand with your waist.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀he seemed so nice when you first approached him. so gentle. so.. caring. yet, the way he was handling your body was the absolute opposite. it was rough. nasty. vile, even. though it had you creaming all over his dick like a damn popsicle. with each ass slap and feral rut he gave you, you couldn’t help but respond with a complimentary soft moan that had him going ballistic.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀the way you squeezed around him so deliciously, and your sounds that send chills down his spine, had turned him into a mad man. your cunt sucked him in with pure ease, your juices entwining with one another and decorating his lower abdomen and upper thighs with crystalline liquids. the sounds of his hips bucking at yours filled the room entirely, overlapping with your cries of ecstasy.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀the bruises that already littered your skin were now covered in love bites from the man, his hands grasping at your breasts so much that prints were left on them when the two of you were done. when he told you he wanted every inch of you, he sure as hell meant every damn word. you weren’t complaining, other than the fact you wouldn’t be able to move for a few days to come and your team was going to undeniably kill you for such.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“you take me so well, precious, just like that.”

⠀⠀⠀ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

KIM NAMJOON. JUNG HOSEOK. MIN YOONGI. kim jinseok (matthew). CHOI SAN. song mingi. jeon jungkook. LEE CHAN (DINO). kim mingyu. lee hoseok (wonho). sim jake. PARK SUNGHOON. park jay. kang taehyun. yoon keeho. HWANG INTAK.

𐙚 ⠀ ˖⠀⠀ ۫ 𝓷𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 : take this and eat it. i thought of only jhope when writing it but since i didn’t specify, i leave it up to you guys to interpret. 😋🤞 nighty night

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gimmeurtummy · 4 months

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Ethereal Desires: Chapter 1

Pairing: Lee Know x Y/n × Hyunjin (Y/n x Jeongin) (Brief Heeseung x Y/n) (ft. Jay)

Genre: supernatural, triangle love, unrequited love, angst, 2nd chance, 'so called star crossed lovers', what if's, deaths, scary stuff in a cute way

Chapter warnings: Domestic abuse, mention of alchohol, mention of death

"If you could change one thing about your life, what would that be?" Was the first thing her Psychology teacher asked the class today. It was a trick question to be honest, with a lot of outcomes. Apparently, she chose to pretend to be satisfied with her life, but with all honesty, she wasn't. And everyone knew.

As soon as she had stepped out of the class, a familiar wave of nostalgia washed over me. She wasn't used to walking out of classes alone, no, not once he came along. If she was Lily Bloom, then he was her Atlas Corrigan, that's how she used to view herself back as an emotionally unstable teenager. But when she saw him lying in the casket, after being in a coma for 2 years, she knew that everything was a dream.

From then, she had grown up a lot, both emotionally and physically, and had tried her best to put everything behind herself, but standing here at the stairs of my own house, she felt unsafe in all the ways possible. Y/n took a deep breath, and pushed the door away, it made a silent creak, but it was very quiet to be noticed. She carefully closed the door and took off her shoes, and made my way to the staircase.

"Y/n? Is that you?" She closed my eyes, a soft curse falling off of her lips. There's no point in hiding anymore, she slowly walked towards the kitchen. "I made cookies!" Her mother smiled, placing the tray on the counter. She took in her appearance, apart from the bruises, she looked fine. "Here, have some."

"I am not hungry," Y/n lied, but in reality, her body was hurting so bad all she wanted was to drop dead.

"Are you okay? Did something happen?" Before she could rush over to me, she stepped back. And gave a tight smile, followed by a "I'm fine." Y/n turned on her heels and left before her mother could ask her any more questions. Sighing,she closed the door, dropping her bag by the edge of the bed, she flopped down. Her eyes focused on the now fading off white ceiling which had been last painted when her medium sized room was her nursery. Her eyes scanned the room, most of the things she had, things she loved were now gone. Sold to a thrift shop, because 2 jobs weren't paying her enough to get a bare minimum decent apartment.

She blindly searched for the laptop on her bed, and sat up once she had her hands on it. The screen had an impressive crack, thanks to her father. The sides were dent, and the color was fading away. She turned it on, and searched for more apartments. The air blew the curtains further in her room, and the clock ticked silently. Her eyes scanned the article with a deep frown. Once. Twice. Thrice. She checked her notepad and let out a deep breath, the apartment was being rented out at a low rate. Surprisingly, no one had applied for it. She quickly sent in a, "I'm interested in this offer," before getting up to get ready for work.

Like everyday, today wasn't also in her favor, she huffed, staring out of the window at the busy street as the day passed by quite slowly. Pushing her hair out of her face, and straightened up and wore a polite smile to greet the customer who had just walked in, and just at her moment her phone vibrated with messages. She skillfully ignored the vibrations, and focused on her work.

The doorbell of the cafe rang, as the night had already fallen, and it was quiet all around, it was not the first time Y/n had to deal with a customer coming after the closing hours. “I'm sorry, the cafe's closed,” she said, wiping the nth table.

“Oh, I was actually here for L/n Y/n,” the skin on her body stood up at the words she turned around crossing her hands over her chest. “How may I help you?”

The man in front of her wouldn't be older than 30, his hair was styled back and he was wearing an expensive suit with glasses, “You applied for the house article I posted a while ago.” Y/n slowly nodded, frowning. Upon understanding her confusion he quickly added, “It's not the smartest idea to put up the shifts you work on the shops on social media.”

Y/n took a deep breath, “Yeah, I know, but what about the house?”

“Oh it's available,” he nodded quickly. “It's actually a mansion I must admit, so you will have to share with others.”

“And I wonder why the rate was so low,” She thought to herself. “That's not a problem.”

“Great, if you are free we can go and visit it tomorrow,” he smiled a little too wide for the given situation, making Y/n nod wearily. After exchanging numbers the man left in a hurry. Y/n couldn't help but clutched the cleaning rag in her hand, an uneasy feeling washing over her.

A sigh escaped her lips as she stared at the front door of her own house. Her chest filled with doubt as to whether to sneak in, or let them know about her presence. Y/n entered the house and closed the door silently, and took off her shoes. Just as she was about to sneak up the stairs, a movement caught her eye.

“Stop right there!” She heard her father's gruff voice, yelling at her. She closed her eyes before opening them again and turned to face her father. “Where were you?”

She sighed, rubbing the tip of her nose, “I work late shifts on Saturday.”

“Don't lie to me!” His loud voice made her flinch. “I know what they told me! There was a man at the cafe after it was closed!”

“That's really creepy and weird of you,” she pointed out, and no sooner had she taken one step, she was pulled back by her bag and thrown down the staircase. Her head collided with the wall behind, her vision going blurry for a moment and her ears ringing.

Once she came back to my senses, she heard her mother yelling at her father, and him just yelling back at her. Her mother did her best to distract him, so she could slip into her room. Crawling up the stairs, she did. She silently slipped in and locked the door, and pushed her nearly empty glass book rack in front of it. Her bag fell off her shoulder as she dropped onto the ground, tears flowing freely.

Her nose scrunched up, forming wrinkles of confusion on her face. The mansion was lavish, the maintenance cost could pay off 4 times of her house loan. The living room was twice as big as her house. But the thing that confused her was the price. Even having to share the house with others did not explain the low cost.

She took in her new room, which was bigger than her room, her parents room and the guest room combined. It has been 3 hours since she walked out of her home. Her mother didn't even try to stop her, knowing if she stayed there, there was no future for her. Her father had been gone since 6 in the morning. The landlord was confused, but understood her desperation to get over the paperwork and move in.

Y/n dropped her bag on the ground and sat by the window, overlooking the garden. A girl, about her age was listening to music and scribbling on a book. She stood up and wiped her hands on her pants, and walked downstairs. Just as she passed by the hallway, her shoulder brushed agasint another taller and broader shoulder. Her head snapped back, but the figure of a boy, his head low was already disappearing into another room. Her breath picked up, the scent, the touch, it felt too similar.

She turned away continuing down the stair case, once she had closed the door behind herself the cold air greeted her like an long lost friend, making her pull her jacket tighter around herself. Another girl, her age probably, long black hair running down was yelling at the landlord, who calmly dealt with her. Seeing how calm he was, the girl felt frustrated and marched passed her back into the house.

Y/n looked a little amused and continued on her way, “You don't look like someone to get on others’ nerves.”

The man took of his glasses rubbing his nose before putting them back on, “Believe me, I get that a lot. She asked permission to throw a party.”

“And you said no?” She chuckled.

The man shrugged with a upside down grin, “I said no alcohol,” she made her laugh, because it sounded pretty stupid. Party without alcohol. A comfortable silence filled the atmosphere, making her forget why she even came here. “I suggest you stay inside the house, if you don't have any work outside of course, it's cold here.” With a nod her turned to take his leave.

“Hey, sir!” Y/n called out. “I didn't ask your name…”

He turned back, his car door opened and smiled, “Park Jongseong.”

“Do you need something?” The girl, whow as scribbling looked up at her. “You have been lingering here for a while now.”

“Oh,’ Y/n shrugged in embarrassment. “I am just new here, I have nothing to do…”

The girl tilted her head frowing, “Don't you have any shift today? At the library right?”

Y/n nodded slowly, “You are an weakly visitor, I took off today.”

The girl shurgged her shoulder, “Your library needs to stack up more books on dark magic,” she paused briefly. “Alex.”

“Y/n,” she said timidly, turning away to leave catching the faint ‘I know’. “Ask Heeseung to show you the library!” She froze. Heeseung? The frown deepening on her face. “Lee Heeseung?” She turned to look back at the girl who slowly nodded.

Y/n took fast steps inside the house, mumbling to herslef, “It's okay, don't worry, there are plenty of Lee Heeseung's out there, that are just as tall as him and smell—”

“Watch your steps dummy!” The voice scolded her in the familiar tone. Y/n rubbed her back, whining internally until the voice hit her ears.

Oh no.

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chenfleur · 5 months

Text

BROKEN STRINGS

NINETEEN. tell him i said "womp womp 😕" 😁

(1.5k words)

There’s confusion painted on Chaeryeong’s face as she approaches the table.

“Six o’clock was five minutes ago,” she deadpans, blinking. “Did Jake forget his own birthday?”

The table you and Minji had been seated at is cozily tucked away into the corner of the restaurant, lined with lacquered chairs on one side and plush booth on the other. The dimmed amber lights above your heads illuminate the oriental patterns carved in the table’s surface and the thin partition screens hung up on the surrounding walls.

You smile warmly, beckoning her to sit down. “You look pretty, Chaer. Is that dress new?”

“As if,” Chaeryeong snorts. She slides into the chair opposite to you, smoothing out her sleeves. “It was from my aunt. I already spent enough money on Jake’s gift. Seriously—” She cranes her neck towards the entrance. “Where are they?”

“Riki got Jay Park locked in Jake’s pantry,” you explain. Your eyes briefly flit to Minji—who’s discreetly taken Jake’s gift bag and shoved her nose into it for a peek—before landing back on Chaeryeong. “Jake said they’d all be here soon.”

Chaeryeong is quiet for a comically long time before snorting in disbelief. “You know what, yeah. Yeah, okay.”

After asking a passing waiter for some lemon waters, you notice Jungwon and Sunoo’s figures through one of the sushi restaurant’s large windows. When they enter and see that it’s only you, Minji, and Chaeryeong there, Jungwon raises an eyebrow. “Are we at the right restaurant?” he jokes, faking a leave before walking up to the table with a grin.

“Yeah,” Sunoo says, taking a seat next to Chaeryeong. He gestures vaguely to the empty half of the table. “Were these people you saw in a vision or…?”

A laugh leaves you. “Jake texted me a bit ago saying that he and his friends would be late because one of them got another stuck in his pantry. He— well, he didn’t tell me anything other than that, but I’m sure they’ll be here soon. Let’s order some appetizers before they get here,” you propose, reaching for a small stack of menus.

“You know, Y/N,” Jungwon begins casually after accepting the menu you hand him. “Since they’re not here yet, technically you still have the chance to, you know… up and out.”

Confused, your eyes narrow. “Leave? Why would I leave?”

“I’m not saying you should,” he says, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’m just telling you that you’re doing that thing with your hands again. That thing you do when you get anxious where you dig your nail into your palm.”

Surely enough, when your eyes flicker down to your hands, there’s a small cluster of crescent-shaped dents in the middle of your left palm that you didn’t realize you’ve been subconsciously thumbing over. Your eyes widen before you let out a quiet, ever-so-slightly unstable sigh, forcibly folding your hands on the table. “Thank you for pointing that out, Jungwon,” you mutter sarcastically.

“You look like you’re going to shit your pants. All because your boyfriend’s going to be here in a few minutes?”

Glaring at him, you grit out, “He is not my boyfriend—”

“But you wish he was. Don’t lie.”

You falter, and to your utmost dismay, it makes the boy snicker.

“Jungwon’s right, you look a bit flushed,” Sunoo concedes as he gently pushes your glass of water towards you. “It’s okay to be nervous, but don’t let it ruin your night. Seeing him, I mean.”

“I see him nearly everyday at training and school. I literally saw him yesterday,” you counter. “I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, but this time he’ll be six feet away from you, you can’t hide behind the nearest person when he looks in your direction, and he looks super fucking hot,” Jungwon lists off his fingers.

Making a wretched noise, Chaeryeong slaps the boy on the shoulder. “Please, for the love of god, never say that again.”

“What? He does. I looked at his Twitter.”

“You follow him on Twitter?”

“Nope.” He manages to steal one of Chaeryeong’s deep-fried scallops, much to her protest. “Just did a bit of stalking. And, I can confidently say that Y/N is screwed.”

You groan loudly, raising a hand to massage at your temples. “You’re giving me a headache,” you murmur.

When Chaeryeong had told you to think about letting Sunghoon prove himself to you rather than forcing yourself to cut him off, you could feel the fog in your mind physically clear. Okay, you thought. An ultimatum of sorts.

It’s a straightforward approach, but it felt so relieving that those words were coming from someone else rather than you. You couldn’t bring yourself to admit that the hostility you showed towards Sunghoon was only half-true; that it’s more of a shield for your soul because you’re silently clinging onto a prospect that could so easily end up with you getting hurt again.

You force Sunghoon to leave your thoughts by screwing your eyes shut hard for a second, before opening them and focusing on the people in front of you. Tonight, you wouldn’t let Sunghoon get in your head. You’d celebrate Jake, gossip, laugh at the video that Chaeryeong will send everyone of Jake crying over his present, and eat so much food that you’d go home feeling like you’re about to throw up.

Yes, that sounds like a nice plan.

“Do you guys think—” Minji starts, her voice muffled from the food in her mouth. “—that if I make intense eye contact with him for long enough, he’d get so uncomfortable that he’d die of mysterious causes and leave Y/N alone?”

Jungwon snorts. “He might go blind from how hideous you are.”

The girl pauses, before slamming her hands onto the table to push herself up and lean over the table with a raised hand. “Fucking piece of s—”

It’s nearly 6:30 by the time the rest of your party stumbles around the corner. You have to press a hand to your mouth to stop yourself from laughing at Jake’s distraught expression. When his frantic eyes finally catch your waving hand, he visibly sighs.

“I’m so sorry,” Jake rushes out when he gets to the table. Carding a hand through his messy styled hair, he says, “I really do appreciate that you guys came, and I seriously didn’t mean to keep you waiting. It’s just this—” his head whips around to try and find Riki, who airily looks in the other direction. “Someone thought he was a fucking genius—"

“Why is it my problem Jay-hyung was in your pantry in the first place?”

“Just sit, Riki,” Chaeryeong says hastily.

Jake slides into the booth next to you, with Riki and who you recognize as Lee Heeseung on the other side of him. Your eyes scan the group of boys as they file into their seats, but your breath catches in your throat as they land on the person seated on the other end of the table—and god, never have you wanted to punch Jungwon more than right now.

The way Sunghoon looks makes your stomach twist. He’s wearing a loose black dress shirt you never knew he owned, with a singular button at the top unbuttoned that, to your misfortune, lets his collarbones peek out. The strands of his dark hair fall in front of his face like each one was meant to be where it was.

It’s like your plan to ignore Sunghoon had flown out the window the second he was actually in front of you. You despise how you can’t help but let your gaze travel to him. Watching the way his bottom lip is captured between his teeth as he pores over a menu with Jay, shivering when you can see his mouth moving in conversation but not actually being able to hear what he’s saying. You don’t remember the last time you heard his voice other than as a distant echo in the training centre.

You’re snapped out of your daze by Jake, who gently flicks you on the hand. Realizing you haven’t even looked at the menu, you struggle to speak. “Oh—”

Instead, Jake cuts in, whispering, “Are you okay with an eel rice bowl?”

Eyes widening, you give a small nod. “Yeah— yeah.”

Jake ends up ordering for you, with the others ordering their food after. When the waiter leaves, you whisper to the boy next to you, “You know I like those?”

He shrugs. “Your mom brought my family some once. She said it was your favourite.”

“Oh,” you say softly.

You turn your head back to your friends. The restaurant is an echo chamber of clinking plates, overlapping murmurs, and soft bossa nova playing from the bar, all of which is quickly drowned out by Jungwon and Minji’s third argument of the night. You let yourself sink into your surroundings.

Oblivious to the pair of eyes that had been watching you, that caught the shy smile lingering on your lips.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

previous / next

series masterlist

PAIRING. park sunghoon x reader

SUMMARY. Since the day you first picked up a racket, Park Sunghoon had been by your side. He had been your first badminton partner, first best friend, first love—and despite the two of you never having a label, it felt like only something cosmic could come between you. But, when the pandemic makes the world shut down, Sunghoon slowly disappears, leaving you in the dust with no explanation. Now, as you start your senior year and the world starts to re-open, you try to move on from him—right when he suddenly enters your life again.

A/N. hello Party People today we (i) steal the moon (am free from exams)

TAGLIST. @euncsace @mrchweeee @ariadores @jiaant11 @jiawji @jaeminri @en-happiness @eneiyri @run2min @nyfwyeonjun @nctislifue @velvtcherie @sungookie @oldjws @saranghaohoshi @leaderwon @who-tf-soddhi @jwnghyuns @koizekomi @haechansbbg

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen smau #enhypen scenarios #sunghoon #park sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon smau #enhypen social media au #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon angst #enhypen fic #park sunghoon x reader #series ; broken strings

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goldenavenger02 · 10 months

Text

i said "i love you" (you say nothing back)

After defeating the Hoarder, Nya finds out exactly what Cole means when he says that it feels like the earth is screaming. Meanwhile, Cole knows that his and Geo’s time is running out.

“We’re gonna need to head out first thing in the morning,” Nya explained as she followed Cole around, the two of them on their own journey to find two sufficient air mattresses for her and Sora to sleep on for the night, but she had a much more pressing matter on her mind, “so, you and Geo?”

“What about Geo?” Cole asked, kneeling down next to a pile of junk and starting to dig through it.

“I just think it’s nice that you found him and the others, that you had others after the Merge,” Nya shrugged as she got down beside her best friend and started to dig through the pile of trash beside him while a much simpler time came to the forefront of her mind, “remember that true match machine?”

“Oh my god,” Cole laughed despite the thin lines of pain around his lips that Nya could only see in a certain light, “I nearly forgot about that stupid thing.”

“What, the machine that resulted in you and I going on one date? Where afterwards you said “I’m not talking to Jay, but you can’t pick me”? How did you forget that?” Nya couldn’t contain her laughter as they stood with zero luck and continued to walk, no longer in fear of the Hoarder now that it was trapped in a jar.

“I still can’t believe that was the last piece of the puzzle.”

“Yep, one date with me. That’s all it took for you to realize that you were gay,” she grinned, but it was quickly replaced by a frown of worry about where her yin was bubbling its way back to the surface of her mind, “I hope that the others find him.”

“Hey,” Cole’s voice was comforting as his hand rested on her shoulder, forcing her attention to him, “we will find him. One of us will find Jay, I promise. I mean, you and Sora found me in a place that, according to most people, doesn’t even exist. That’s gotta mean something.”

“I wish you would come with us.” Nya sighed, pulling an air mattress pump off of the top of a pile of junk, relieved to find that it was only slightly dented and battery powered.

“You know I can’t. Not until I can find a way to bring them with me,” Cole sighed, examining the device, “it would kill me to leave them-” the cry of anguish as he dropped to his knees forced a horrific scream from Nya’s lungs.

“Cole!” She rushed over and knelt down before pulling her best friend into her arms, “Cole, what’s-”

“Get Geo.” Was all he said before his eyes fluttered shut and his body went limp in her arms, making Nya’s stomach churn with worry; she tried to lift him so she could get him back to the Rookery, to find his boyfriend like he said to do, but despite her own share of muscle from the years of being a Samurai and then a ninja, he was still too heavy for her.

So she did the only thing that she could think to do and started to yell out, “Sora! Geo! Riyu! I need help!”

…

Nya’s heart pounded painfully in her chest as she looked around at the others surrounding her; Bonzal was crocheting, her boney hands working slowly but expertly with the light blue yarn that was reminiscent of her own gi. Fritz and Spitz were sitting on the ground, gluing together popsicle sticks into what she assumed was a log cabin, similar to how she had done it when she was their age. Sora and Riyu had gone out to resume finding mattresses for the two of them to settle for the night, insisting that since they had found a pump, a mattress had to be close by.

Nya couldn’t help but wonder if Bonzal’s crocheting was nerves or not with how slow she was working; she couldn’t help but remember her boyfriend’s anxious movements, his hands working nervously on all sorts of projects and inventions if only just to calm his overworking mind.

If he had been with her in this current moment, Jay would focus on trying to comfort her own nerves, using his own words to ground himself, but she didn’t dare wish for him to be there even in the comfort of her own mind, not even a good experience with a Dijin could change that.

With how at ease the boys were, even if they weren’t outwardly showing their nerves, Nya couldn’t help but wonder if what had happened to Cole was somewhat normal for the children he was now practically calling his own, for the skeleton who outwardly didn’t care for much but her craft projects as well as her weird collections and for Cole’s boyfriend, who was in the room just down the hall, tending to him.

It wasn’t that it was unexpected for Cole to have a boyfriend; ever since he came out to her, Nya was aware of the persistent crush he had once had on her brother as well as the brief romance that he had shared with Plundar. If she was being completely honest, she had been expecting it for a long time just like she knew the others had been expecting her to get back together with Jay.

But she couldn’t stop herself from wondering about Geo, the outcast of Shintaro that had found his way into Cole’s heart. They hadn’t spoken much to each other aside from the explanation of his own elemental powers, not that it wasn’t either of their faults given the attack from both The Hoarder as well as Dr. LaRow.

Admittedly, Nya couldn’t help but wonder if it was just her wanting to get to know the Munce, or if some part of her was still guarded from the mess that had been what had gone down with Harumi and Lloyd and as a result, wanted to protect the others from going through anything like that again.

She was so lost in her own mind that she hadn’t even registered Geo, slowly opening the creaking, wooden door until he approached the line of her vision, “how is he?”

“He’ll be okay,” Geo’s voice was steady, like anything about Cole passing out for seemingly no reason after expressing earlier in the day that it felt like the earth had been screaming ever since the Merge was okay.

“How are you so calm about this?” Nya questioned with a raised eyebrow, “this isn’t normal and not just in Ninjago. It’s not normal at all.”

Geo didn’t answer at first and Nya assumed that it was due to the fact that he was refusing to acknowledge her question, but she was surprised when Geo led her over to a small table pushed into the back of the room and handed her a hot mug of steaming chamomile, a scent she instantly recognized from her days working at Steep Wisdom.

“I don’t like scaring Fritz and Spitz,” Geo admitted as he passed her a small dish of sugar before taking a sip of his unsweetened tea, looking right at the young boys as he spoke, “they’re just kids. Kids who look at Cole the same way that they look at me.”

“So they’re your sons?” Nya pressed while sweetening her tea.

“In all but blood,” Geo affirmed, “the four of us, we were all rejected by our biological families, so we made our own and when Cole fell from the sky, we only assumed that he was like the rest of us.”

Nya nodded; she was instantly brought back to those cold autumn mornings in Ignacia where her feet would be so cold that she would instantly go to Kai’s bed and snuggle up to her furnace of a brother; even when he complained about her cold feet on his warm legs, she knew that he was grateful that at least he could provide warmth.

It had just been the two of them surviving together, hoping that the other villagers would take pity on them to the point of at least offering them a warm meal if they didn’t buy some of the extensive stock of weapons that only dwindled as they grew up.

In a weird way, she had been thankful for being taken by the skeleton army; after all, it wasn’t like they hurt her and afterwards, they had the guarantee of comfy beds and warm meals while Kai continued his training to become the master of fire.

“So, what happened out there?” Nya questioned, now that the chamomile was starting to calm down her anxiety and replaced it with the need for answers, “and why are you all so calm about this?”

“I know you said that this isn’t normal, and you are completely in the right, but it has become our normal,” Geo explained, stopping to take a sip of his tea, “a few weeks after Cole arrived, he fought the Hoarder for the first time. But when he used what he calls his “earth punch”, he confided in me later on that the earth struggled to obey his mastery and it felt like the ground was in agony.”

“So the pain is from his earth punch.”

“Not exactly,” Nya couldn’t stop her eyebrow from raising in confusion, but after being in so many confusing conversations throughout the years, she knew when it was better to remain silent, “after that day, he started to develop these migraines, he told me that he always hears the cries, but that he can drown them out. But some days, like today, it’s too strong for him.”

Nya swallowed in sympathy; after she had been brought back from the sea, she had been forced to go through the withdrawal of the lack of elemental power she had seen both Kai and Lloyd go through in the past. It had been painful to say the least between getting used to her own body again as well as the usual flu-like symptoms that came with having the elemental energy ripped from one's body.

But consistent migraines like that, long after the event that originally caused the internal turmoil, that was new to her; not impossible, but new. Just like everything else that she had learned within the past few weeks since she reunited with Lloyd.

“Is there anything that helps him get through the bad days?” Nya asked, pushing a loose strand of hair away from her face where it had fallen out of her ponytail, only to be disappointed when Geo shook his head.

“Not much. We haven’t been able to find any sort of medicine or herbal remedy to decrease the pain, but physical contact helps him ground himself, so it’s something.”

That was something that didn’t surprise Nya at all. Cole was always the first one to give and accept hugs to whoever might need one ever since she first met him; she had a particularly strong memory of the two of them holding onto each other tightly after a conversation about ghosts and newfound powers.

But as Geo spoke, every word rattled inside of her mind and filled it with the fact that Geo was not deceptive and had zero malicious intent for her friend. Rather, he may very well be the best match she had ever seen for Cole.

“Then you should go be with him,” Nya insisted, putting her now empty tea cup down on the table, “I’ll clean this up and make dinner.”

“Are you sure?” Geo questioned as she stood, taking his empty cup with her own towards the sink, “you and Sora have a long journey ahead of you tomorrow.”

“Geo, you are the first person I’ve met that has truly loved Cole,” Nya put her hand on the Munce’s to ensure that yes, she had his attention, “and right now, you are the one he needs. You’ve helped him through this before, I would have no idea what to do.”

Geo nodded as he stood, and Nya could have sworn that she saw a shiny tear trickle down his cheek but he made no move to acknowledge it as he walked back toward his and Cole’s shared bedroom, only stopping to turn back toward Bonzal and say, “help Nya with dinner if she needs it.”, before disappearing behind the wooden door.

…

Cole knew that if he stayed perfectly still and kept his eyes closed, the migraine would pass. It would take time and he would be bedridden for the rest of the night, but he knew that the throbbing in his mind and the subtle churn of his nauseated stomach would pass.

In the years that had passed in the Land of Lost Things, he got used to the throbbing of the scar that had come from the rift in the sky sealing around the left side of his skull.

He knew that any of the other ninjas would have been just as freaked out as he had been when it had started, he also knew that it had been foolish to believe that it had just been from the lack of adrenaline from fighting the Hoarder that first time.

But, he had Geo to get him through it by letting him rest his pounding head on his chest and the comforting squeeze of his arm around his shoulders. It didn’t stop the pain, the nausea or even the fainting, but it was enough for Cole to ground himself and know that he would get through it just like he had before.

“Hey,” the tender whisper broke through his thoughts, resting his gentle hand on Cole’s bare shoulder which gave him the strength to open his eyes in the pitch black room, “how’re you feeling?”

“Honestly?” Cole couldn’t stop his voice from trembling as he spoke because even moving the muscles in his jaw sent a flash of pain through his head, “like shit, the migraines…” he hesitated, but given the little of Geo’s face he could see through the makeshift blackout curtains that covered their windows, Cole knew that his boyfriend knew exactly what he was gonna say, “I think they’re getting worse. The screaming is getting louder.”

Geo’s mouth was pushed into a tight line, the face he made whenever he was deep in thought; Cole had seen it before, when the two of them discussed the Hoarder with Bonzal to try and figure out what exactly it was and how to stop it for good, as well as when the migraines first made their appearance and Geo had tried everything to remove the pain before it was decided that they should just try and manage the pain instead.

“You should go with Nya, Riyu and Sora tomorrow,” Geo finally spoke, and despite the pain, Cole immediately sat up in protest, “Cole, lay back do-”

“I am not leaving the boys, I am not leaving Bonzal and I am not leaving you,” Cole shook his head and fought back the wave of nausea that it caused as he grasped onto his boyfriend’s hands, “you four can’t leave, I can’t leave you.”

“Ninjago has more sufficient medical technology-”

“But Ninjago doesn’t have you,” Cole cut him off, his vision trying to dim around him due to the overexertion, “I need you, Geo.”

“I don’t want you to leave, Cole,” Geo’s voice trembled as he set a gentle hand on his chest, forcing his throbbing head onto the pillows, “but I also don’t want to lose you.”

Cole sighed as he chewed on the edge of his lip; he understood everything Geo was saying and he knew that his boyfriend wasn’t pushing him away because he no longer wanted him around but more so that he couldn’t find another solution to the problem and he knew that, in the depths of his mind where only the truest honesty inside of him was, he knew that the only solution had to be stopping the Merge Quakes.

“I love you, Geo,” Cole sighed as he moved to allow the Munce to get in bed beside him so he could rest his head against his chest, knowing that if this was the last night that he would be with Geo, then he was going to make sure that it ended on a good note, “and I swear that as soon as all of this is over, I’ll come back and bring you four with me.”

“I know you will,” Geo spoke softly before pressing his tender lips to the top of Cole’s head, wrapping his arm around his shoulders, “and Cole?”

Cole turned his head to look into Geo’s shiny eyes, feeling his own tears start to build up from both the migraine and knowing that this could very well be the last time that he shared the night with his boyfriend.

Despite all of that, Cole couldn’t help but smile when their lips met, the familiar sensation of nothing but pure love bringing his attention away from the pain for just a few moments before Geo pulled away and said what he got his attention for in the first place.

“I love you too, and if you can’t get back to us…” Geo stopped to push away Cole’s sweaty, raven-black hair away from his throbbing scar, never putting his fingers directly on it.

“Don’t finish that,” Cole pleaded, gently taking Geo’s purple fingers in his own hand, “I will come back to Bonzal, to the boys and to you. We’ll go back to Ninjago, and you guys can meet my dad,” he started to ramble, which he knew was from both the exhaustion and the migraine taking away his focus, but he had this conversation with Geo before deep in the night after they had their first kiss.

“And if we decide that Ninjago isn’t for us, we’ll go live with your friend, Queen Vania, in Shintaro,” Geo continued, pressing more soft kisses against Cole’s head while speaking, “and we’ll keep raising our boys where they’ll be as safe as they can be and where Bonzal will have so much thread and yarn that she’ll never run out of things to crochet or sew.”

“And when they’re a bit older,” Cole stopped to yawn, his eyes fluttering shut as he continued to mumble, “maybe we’ll have another one. I’ve always wanted three, you know.”

But as he let his eyes stay shut and his mind started to wander into dreamland, he heard Geo speak for just a few more moments.

“A girl, who we’ll name her after your mom,” one more kiss pressed to his forehead followed by a “good night, Cole” and after that, Cole couldn’t hear his boyfriend speak anymore.

He thought he heard the voice of Master Wu calling out to him, pleading with him to follow him, but it quickly faded to an empty void.

…

Spitz had burst into tears as soon as he heard that Cole would be leaving, his sobs turning into sniffles after Cole hugged him with a little bit of super strength and insisted that he would be back as soon as he could be.

Fritz was just as sniffly as Spitz when he hugged Cole tightly, but was much easier to cheer up with the promise of meeting the others, especially Kai, and the promise that he would be brought back the newest in ninja action figures.

Bonzal didn’t say much before leading the boys away, she didn’t even hug Cole, but when she stuttered over “bring me any bones you find, rock boy,” he knew that she was pushing back any of her emotions so he and Geo could have a proper goodbye without Fritz asking more questions about the dragon cores or Spitz becoming inconsolable about Cole leaving again.

But when the door closed, leaving the Master of Earth and the Munce alone, neither of them could break the silence as Cole pulled the backpack of his few things over his shoulder. He was still exhausted from the migraine that had overtaken him the day before, but the pain was gone and the screaming was quieter now.

Unfortunately, that also meant that his departure from the land he had called home, and the people he had called home for the last few years, was very real and not just an argument between him and his boyfriend.

“You be safe,” Geo’s voice broke through the seemingly impenetrable silence that had filled the living room as he rested his palm in Cole’s, the small burst of powers forming a brief heart shape around their hands, “you come back to us.”

“Geo,” Cole swallowed harshly, his mouth dry as he did, “tell me to stay and I swear, I will unpack this bag faster than the elemental master of speed,” Cole knew that he wouldn’t since he was the one who told him to leave the night before, but he was pleading just the same as his voice trembled into a honest stutter, “I-I love you.”

He should have known that Geo wouldn’t say another word, but the last thing he expected was for Geo to let his hand fall before walking with him toward the entrance. Cole wanted to take his hand again, to drop his pack and insist that he was staying, but that’s when Geo spoke one more time, pressing his hand to Cole’s cheek as he did, his eyes full of earnestness.

“You have to leave.”

And with that, Geo removed his hand from his cheek and turned around toward their bedroom, leaving Cole to stand in the entryway by himself.

His shaky breath filled the room as the water in his eyes started to fall, but he lifted his arm up, wiped away the tears, pulled the backpack tighter onto his shoulder and forced himself to walk out of the Rookery for the last time.

Despite that, he couldn’t stop himself from turning around for a brief second to try and get a glimpse of Geo from the window, only to remember that the blackout curtains were still up; so he continued walking toward Nya, Sora and Riyu to tell them that he would be going to follow Master Wu’s voice instead of coming with them.

But he knew that he wouldn’t tell Nya the reason that he was wiping heartbroken tears from his cheeks and if she pressed, he knew that he would have to lie to her only so she didn’t release any of her powers on the Finders.

‘I will return,’ Cole told himself as his eyes caught onto the small group in front of him, ‘and we’ll all make it back to Ninjago.’

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