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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 3 years

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Attack Of The Winter Wolf: Reality Takes Over

Summary- 8.6k Alpha Steve x Little One Reader. Visiting the reformed Pierce Pack, now under a new Alpha’s leadership, Caine. The young Alpha has a few questions for Steve. You and Steve seem to have finally found them at peace, but it still reaffirms that now your home is with your mate. Unfortunately it all comes crashing down in a matter of moments. Divider made by @firefly-graphics

Warnings- Dominating Sex, violence, swears. This is an 18+ Blog

A/N- A friend sent me a GIF that inspired the sexual scene in this fic. If any should want to see the GIF, send me a DM as I wont be posting it on my page due to the content of it. Thank you so much for continuing reading The Packs journey in this next stage. Thoughts and Questions are always welcome. Happy Howling. 🐺💙

Chapter One / Masterlist

Steve had to admit that Caine had really changed it all around in the months he has taken over. His pack was more relaxed and open, no longer living with the fear of a crazy Alpha. Steve watched his Little One pausing every now and then to greet a former pack mate while he simply stayed nearby watching You interact with your old pack mates. Even though he knew You still carried connections with them, it wasn't the same because now you were his. You constantly danced back to him, your body seeing his reassuring touch, either taking his hand once more to weave your fingers with his or slipping under his shirt to press your palm to his back. It was all about the connection, You and the Little Wolf always establishing that bond. Steve felt a calmness wash over him at your desire to remain close. Every time a soft praising rumble would rise from him making you pleased.

Soon Caine and Kat found the two of you “Welcome back, thinking about staying here Y/N?” The woman teased as she loped her arm through yours on the opposite of Steve. You scoffed with a shake of your head.

“And give up all the work I did with him? Hell no.” You joked, patting Steve's chest and smirking up at him. He growled in a mock warning and nipped at your nose before letting You go with a nudge, which you split off with Kat, going to catch up. Steve and Caine watched the women for a moment till Caine broke the silence.

“This is a side I have never seen of Y/N, it's good.” Caine observed in which Steve turned his attention from You leaving him and cleared his throat.

“Well I'm sure she has the same observations as all of you. Not living in fear will work wonders. The whole pack looks pretty good. While we were walking around, everyone is so content here. Have nothing but to say how good an Alpha you are.”

Caine gave almost a youthful excited look at the comment before clearing his throat to gain his composure in the other Alphas presence.

<I like this kid.> The Wolf yipped in Steve’s mind and Steve had to agree, knowing just how dedicated Caine was to his pack, even when he was nothing more than a captive.

I do too, and Y/N trusts him.

“Well thank you Steve, that means a lot. We deserve to just be a pack, a real and proper one. That was actually kinda why I sent Y/N a text inviting you two over. You see Ross has been sending members here, trying to talk to me about the Accords.”

Steve rumbled slightly at the mention of Ross. He hadn't seen the council member since you ran him off last fall. And that was just fine by Steve, he already made it known that he wanted nothing to do with the Accords nor would be signing them to give up part of his control of his pack to the council.

“And what do you think about them Caine? I’m sure they left a copy for you to read over.” he questioned, and Caine gave a slight wrinkle of his forehead considering how to answer the question.

“Well, part of me wants to, as all of this to take care of seems almost overwhelming at times. I want nothing but the best for my Pack, but giving up the rights to finalize choices, letting the Council be able to override my decisions? Seems dangerous to give it up. They claim it's to further protect our safety, especially if an Alpha loses his sanity. Ross claims that is what happened to Pierce, was corrupted by Hydra and that nothing could be properly done, as Pierce had every right to do what he wanted being the Alpha.”

“Yeah fucking bullshit. Pierce never should have been an Alpha. I don’t know how he managed it.” Steve growled out angrily at Caine’s words. “And that supposed Council had everything they needed to step in, they just didn’t. They were waiting to see where Pierce could lead them, at the innocent wolves expense.” Steve shook his head, the Wolf now pacing in agitation for his human counterpart. Caine nodded in agreement.

“What I thought as well when the Senator was trying to feed me this. I told him I would think about it. But I don't think that this is the best thing for us. We are still trying to recover and it's just hard to trust anyone right now. Giving up as Alpha, it just seems to go against our very nature.”

“Go with what you feel in your gut Caine.” Steve said. “You know what is the best thing to do for your wolves, they trust you for a reason.” The new Alpha looked relieved at Steve, that he was actually doing the right thing after a lifetime of his family being mistreated.

Soldat jumped out of the van Clint managed to hot wire, switching vehicles every couple hundred miles in case they were being followed. The Alpha they had collected groaned as Soldat yanked on the chain, Pietro pushing her forward from behind. Soldat never even bothered to learn her name.

Her name didn't matter, she was just the mission.

The White Wolf licked his muzzle hungrily, eyeing the Alpha, feeling the challenge her Wolf’s presence brought. But she was subdued, after killing her mate, all fight in her left. It broke her. She followed behind Soldat obediently as Brock unlocked the door to the warehouse, dragging her in.

“A female this time.” Brock gripped her face, twisting it so she had to look at him, his sneer growing wider as it roamed up and down her, Alanna rolling her eyes from behind him.

“Not much of a looker if you ask me. How did she get to be Alpha?”

Brock ripped his fingers away from her face, jerking her head back. “Not all Alpha’s are built on strength. But they are weaker, easier to control. Isn't that right Sweetheart. Put her in the back... there's a free cage back there for her. Oh and Soldat, enjoy yourself with her… she's a fine piece of tail.”

Soldat didn't say anything, just grabbed the chain he was using to lead her and tug her away with him, the rest of the team dispersed to unload the van of their equipment and dispense of it.

Alanna cocked her head as she watched Soldat leave with their latest Alpha. “Why do you do that? Offer him those Alphas like he will actually take you up on it. If you want him to get laid, why not just order it?”

Brock watched before he turned to Alanna. “He’s programmed to only fuck his mate, if he ever chooses one, then we know. Another way to control him.”

“You really believe in that crock of shit? Soulmates?” Alanna snorted out and Brock snapped his teeth at her.

“I see Rogers was quick to drop you without a regret and he went halfway around the world leaving his pack behind to save his new mate.” He challenged her and Alanna snarled at him, her rage flaring at the mention of her former partner.

“Fuck you Brock.”

“Later Sweetheart, I got more important shit to do.” His hand whipped out and snatched her by the back of her neck, twisting till Alanna yelled in pain. “Don't you forget who owns your ass now Bitch, you got the pretty scar to prove it.” He dropped her to scramble at his feet while he stepped away, leaving her wiping her face dry from the tears of pain he caused, composing herself.

Brock whistled a cheery tune as he followed along after Soldat to see if he was going to take him up on his offer or not.

When Soldat shoved the Alpha in, Brock came up next to him, pulling out his phone to snap a picture of her to file away for later.

“Good work, I have another one for you to go for. Coordinates are already pinged to your device. This one should be easy for you, he is fairly new and you’ve met him before.” Soldat dug out his own device and pulled up the file, a picture of a younger man paired along with a black wolf, both man and beast shown. “Collect him and bring him here, kill off as many of the pack as you can.”

Soldat frowned a bit looking at it, studying it when he felt a haze of a memory rise up. Several people mingling in a hotel room, people he didn't recognize and a voice coming from nearby.

“If Natasha and Bucky hadn’t come… Thank You, to all of you.” The Black Wolf he was looking at right now laying on a bed looking like he had just been through a fight, panting heavily.

“It was the least we could do, I’m sorry we didn’t know earlier.” The same voice he had heard calling to him days before when retrieving the Alpha. The White Wolf shook his head aggravated and Brock's voice sharpened suddenly.

“Soldat! ANSWER ME.”

“Yes Sir, we will head out right away.”

It was much later when you returned with Kat. Caine and Steve were sharing beers with other wolves, talking about general stuff, Steve doing his best to answer questions, explaining how he made his pack an asset to the community, bringing in income to the sleepy town below there mountain. It all felt like back at home, that you quickly settled back in. You sidled up to Steve's side, which his hand rubbed at your side and he dropped a kiss to your temple. “Thought I was going to have to go look for you, Little One.” He chuckled and you grinned up at him, taking his beer from his hand and sipping from it.

“Like you didn't know where I was the whole time.” You scoffed and Steve shrugged, it was true. With your bond, as long as you two were nearby, it wasn't hard for either of you to find the other. The wolves easily slipped back and forth along that shared bond, tangling together in greeting and breaking out in play as you lightly nipped at Steve’s chest when you turned into him, pressing against his chest as he tightened his arm around you.

“Sure I did, doesn't mean I didn't want to go find you and drag you away all for myself.” His voice husked in your ear, a flattening of his palm against your lower back pressed your hips into his and you could feel exactly why.

Your hand smoothed against his pecs as you turned around, leaning back against his chest and taking another sip of the beer before giving it back to him. Steve's arm slung around your waist loosely while he nipped gently against your mark, making you tilt your head for him with a satisfied sigh before focusing once more on the small group milling around.

“Would you consider coming back Y/N?” someone asked, a woman named Tess that you knew vaguely from the short amount of time she was for sale. Steve growled lowly at the question and you chuckled while pushing your hair back to flash your neck.

“Most certainly not. You all will always be family, but I’m bonded with Steve now. My home is with him and where we decide to go together. Right now as Alpha, we’re staying in the mountains.” You stated and you felt Steve shuffle behind you, speaking up as well.

“As long as your Alpha is fine with us visiting, Y/N will come back whenever she wants to. I know you all are her family and wouldn't ever ask her to push that away.” You could feel your Little Wolf howling to her mate, the satisfied warmth of her happiness flooding through you and you couldn't feel more content then you were right now.

Caine was nearby, nuzzling up to Kat in a sneaky way. The two of them teasing at the edge of the group when suddenly Caine seemed to realize that the attention was on them from the others in the group.

“Of course, Y/N, this is your home whenever you want to come. As well as any of your pack.” He cleared his throat. Kat hid her face a bit, trying not to give them away.

“Thanks Caine.” You are quick to answer, deciding then that it was time to pull you and Steve away for the night, which made you twist to face him. “What do you say Alpha, ready to call it a night? I got something I want to show you.”

Steve arched a brow at you, seeing how you were biting your lip and giving him a playful look. He gave a wave of his hand as you ran your fingers along his stomach through his shirt, pulling away from him, making him choke back a growl at the loss of your touch. “Nice meeting you all, see you tomorrow.” he said before walking stiff legged away. The rest of the wolves chuckled among one another at him trying to not be obvious.

You sprinted ahead while Steve was saying goodbye, well away from the group now and sliding into the darkness of twilight quickly taking over and making the shade under the trees almost dark as night now. You could hear Steve quickly catching up to you, which made you put on a burst of speed. You weren't going back to the little cabin you two were calling home for the night. You wanted to play, wide awake and ready for your Alpha. Darting into the woods, you picked up speed to put more distance between you two and cupped your hands together around your mouth to give a soft howl, enticing him to come find you, hunt you down. The Little Wolf filled your mind, your eyes glimmering yellowed in the low light as you darted away from where you could hear Steve.

Well that is the point.

The Little Wolf’s laughter filled your senses as you darted around a tree trunk, your hands pressing against the rough bark as you peered around, looking for any sign of movement. All your senses flared as you listened carefully for anything. Then to your left a snap made you jump, and the Little Wolf pounded her front paws, yipping. <Run! Run!> Turning the opposite way you raced off, panting as you picked up speed.

When Steve first followed, he thought you would make straight for the cabin. But you had veered off, following your honeysuckle scent that he picked up and took the first step into the darkening woods. Inhaling deeply, it was filled with new scents. The sharpness of the pines, the fresh crushed needles where you passed through. The wolves who lived here mingled scent, and it was somewhat reminiscent of you when he first met you. But now… He drew it in deeper when he found yours, it was different, it was his. Warming in his lungs as he plucked it loose from everything else clashing his senses. It was the one that had that honeysuckle undertones, but now it was more intimate. It was a scent he was surrounded with when you pressed in against him, especially when you were just about to go into heat. A welcoming desired scent that left him aching hard and a smirk spread with a slight possessive growl rumbling through him now that he smelled it. Knowing that the sweetness would be dripping from you, his own honey pot.

“Little One, you better run, because you certainly can’t hide.” he whispered as his footfalls were heavy at first. He could hear a giggle that you tried to muffle as you darted around trees and swiftly turned into trails that you found. The ferns growing under the forest swayed with your movements, some leafy fronds getting crushed in the process. Your howl echoed and bounced around, but Steve was hot on your trail, not being deterred.

He saw you ahead, when you went around a particularly large trunk and Steve went to the right, quiet in his footfalls till he happened to finally managed to get around where you were trying to hide. You peered the opposite side, stretching a bit to look. Completely unaware of where Steve was. His fingers itched now to grab a hold of your waist, pull your ass back to grind against his hips, hear you shriek in surprise and fall back into his chest to look up at him with a grin. He knew how you would play this, trying to escape him with sweet kisses and wriggles to bolt again. As Steve attempted to sneak in closer, the pad of his foot happened to press against a twig and snapped it, making you twirl around on your toes wide eyed in surprise and Steve lunged forward to catch you, your back against the tree that was shielding you earlier and his arms caging on either side of your head.

A surprise growl rolled through you when Steve pressed himself against you, catching you efficiently between him and the tree. Your hands fisted in his shirt and your eyes flashed yellow up at him. Flops of his hair fell forward on his forehead as his head dipped to yours, teasing lust filled kisses nipping on your lips, tugging at each other hungrily with groans. “Gotcha Little One.” Steve whispered, trailing his nose against yours, and his eyes closed while he inhaled against you.

You dragged your teeth against your bottom lip while running your hands up his chest and fingers pressed through his beard to follow the sharp angle of his jaw. “You did Alpha, now what are you going to do about it?”

Steve let your warm honeyed scent arouse him further, a sticky sweet honeypot of a mess his Little One was and he wanted to get his mouth on you, wrap himself around you till the whole world fell away. A cheeky grin crinkled the corners of his eyes, his grin turning wolfish in nature as he growled at you. “The Big Bad Wolf will eat you up.”

Your head fell back as laughter burst out sharply, disrupting the quiet of the night. “Smooth Alpha.”

He nipped on your mark, turning that laughter into a distressed needy moan as Steve's hands smoothed the back of your thighs to lift you up and wrap your legs around him. Pressing his erection against your core. “I ain’t nothing if I ain't smooth ‘Mega.” He stated before claiming your lips and pressing the length of his chest into yours, stealing your air from your lungs, and making you fist a hand at the back of his head, getting lost in him.

Soldat scanned the small pack. Some of it felt familiar, but not enough for the Hydra Soldier to consider what it meant. This was just another hit on the list Brock had for his team to overtake. These wolves were lazy in the night time warmth. Lulled to think they were safe in their packs boundaries. The White Wolf flexed in Soldats mind, licking over his jaw in anticipation of hunting them down. Soldat tilted his head in the air, searching out what the scents could provide to him.

The only thing out of place was the scent of two Alphas here. One was young, still new in leading the pack, the one he was after. His control would be iffy at best over the wolves unless their loyalty was already cemented to him.

But the other stirred the White Wolf in Soldat. Making him flex anxiously a moment at the sensation. Another time, another place he knew this one. It lingered in his senses and he didn't like that. Making him clench his jaw as the White Wolf shook his fur in agitation, unsure of how he knew it. Brock's voice came over the comm in his ear, snapping out. “Is the team set Soldat?”

Soldat moved from his crouch, retreating back to where the others waited. “You all know what to do. There are two Alphas this time, go for the younger one, get the other if you can.” he told his team. Silently as always they dispersed. None of them questioned the fact that there were two Alphas. They had their orders, nothing else needed to be considered. Clint going one way through the trees, and the twins another. Wanda started to simmer red where her powers took an unnatural form, solidifying to cause harm instead of heal. Soldat shoved knives in various places in his kevlar and fitted a mask to his face for protection. That other Alpha, it still left Soldat and his Wolf unsettled for reasons he couldn't place while he prepared himself.

“Set and dispersed, starting extraction.” Soldat said into the comm, and not even thirty seconds later Pietro's snarls and howls started on the other side of the packs compound, Soldat came out of the trees, sniper rifle lifted aiming right for the sleeping group by the nearby bonfire.

Steve ground himself into you, his chest rumbling as his hands rubbed at your sides and cupped your breasts to squeeze and tease. Your head was tilted back against the tree, drawing in air best you could as your mate sucked on your neck, tracing his mark on you with his tongue, his dirty talk making you ache, and rolling your hips to create that friction. “Gonna fill you Little One. Stretch you open and leave you dripping my cum till you're pregnant with my pups.”

God that made your heart race, knowing that he was going to knot you against that tree. His hands kept tugging and making you arch your back, wanting him to get rid of your clothes now and really lay claim to your body. It was a whirlwind of sensations prickling your skin in a heated way.

But then you heard it, at first it barely registered when Steve sunk teeth into your collarbone. You almost ignored it, but the Little Wolf couldn't. She stirred through your hazed mind, making you focus again outside of your Alpha. Another howl, distressed. “Steve… wait.” You tugged at his hair to lift his head away, and he growled in warning at you that he didn't want to wait, but you pulled again.

He lifted away from where he was tasting your skin, stilling his body and frowning slightly while panting. “What's wrong Little One?”

“Listen Steve… something isn't right.” You loosened your hold now that you knew Steve was focusing on you and he tilted his head to listen. Inhaling deeply for any change in the air. He stepped back, letting you loosen your legs around his waist and slip to a stand. Cold chills laced up your spine, looking around as the night seemed to turn silent and dangerous.

<We gotta go back to Caine and the others.> The Little One pressed against the Alpha, who was rigid next to her, searching himself for what she sensed.

But did we actually hear anything? You looked around you, but Steve's hand shot out and caught your wrist in his hand to keep you from moving away from him. His eyes wide as he found what he was looking for.

“Bucky… he’s here.” The Alpha rumbled out and that's when the yells rang out, the sharp rings of gunfire.

“The others… we have to get back to the others Steve.” You tugged your wrist loose to sprint away and Steve lunged to catch you, but you were too quick, already streaking through the woods.

“Y/N! Come back!” Steve yelled as he took off after you. Shedding clothes as you raced, the urge to listen to your Alpha made you falter, but not enough to make you stop. Soon you were falling to all fours, faster to make it back as the Little Wolf and you put on a burst of speed that had everything a blur around you. Soon at your side was a streak of silver as the Alpha attempted to keep up with you on unfamiliar ground. Your twists made him skid heavily into the trees and brush, but he was never far behind as he tried to over take you and before you could burst into the chaos just out of sight of the tree line, he snatched your ruff and jerked you off your feet.

The Alpha twisted you underneath him, his jaws pinning you to the ground while you struggled, but he wouldn't loosen his hold until you stilled and your eyes rolled up to look at him, willing him to release you. He couldn't let you charge into the attack like this, and he loosened, nudging you to creep forward to see what laid beyond out of sight. Both of you stayed low to the ground slinking till breaking out from the forest to the underbrush to see what was going on.

Bodies, your old pack littered the ground and your whine echoed so loudly in distress that the Alpha flattened his ears and pressed against you before slinking along the edge, trying to find the attackers.

A heaviness filled Steve's chest because he knew exactly what he would find. His muscles coiled when he finally caught sight of Bucky, who was taking aim at Kat. She was unaware of him while trying to help the injured to their feet.

You crouched next to him, quivering in shock and anticipation at seeing the missing members of the Pack. The Alpha growled out an order, demanding you help the others. As well as stay away from Bucky, the danger to great to risk letting you go near him. Bucky obviously wasn't in control right now. Once the Alpha was sure you understood, he nuzzled you quickly and split away, leaving you to wait till he had the soldier distracted.

Soldat just happened to see the other Alpha coming at him before he could take his shot. Barely. He spun to block the large wolf from hitting him. Teeth sank into his meatal protected arm, the shield plates clinking together to hold up against the pressure of the bite and he heaved back, sending the wolf sprawling back. A smaller one bolted from their hiding spot, to reach the people he was just about to end. It didn't matter, one of the others would take care of them. Soldat turned his attention to the Alpha he had scented earlier, the one who didnt belong here.

The Silver Wolf pushed back to his feet, his chest rising and falling with each inhale. Soldat knew he was scenting him, assuming it was for the animal to figure out what he was. Swinging the rifle over his shoulder to move it out of the way, he grasped for his belt to pull out a collar. The Wolf's ears flicked forward to what was in his hand and turned wary, stalking out of Soldat's reach. A low growl rippled through him, and the White Wolf ached to submit for just a moment, but it was easy to brush it away.

Why did you stall?

The White Wolf shook himself off, snarling out. <We have our orders.> Soldat heard the waver in him but started towards the Alpha. The Alpha matched his movements, picking up speed in his gait to collide back with him. <This ones got some balls.> Soldat heard the White Wolf remark.

All the more reason to get him collared and under control.

And just before they reached one another, the Alpha darted around him, making Soldat spin just to have the Alpha tackle him once more, teeth sinking into the kevlar of his suit. There was enough force to feel the bite, but nothing that could do damage. Fistfuls of fur was grabbed trying to wrestle him away and attempt to maneuver the collar around his neck. The Alpha managed to twist out of his hold in time and Soldat yanked a knife from a hidden spot, swinging it in an aim at the animal, trying to sink it into a vulnerable spot. Instead it grazed him, a spurt of red following the blades descent through its fur. A furious snarl demanding him to submit filled the air before man and wolf collided again.

You were busy helping Kat try to get the others away, stalling for a moment when you saw Clint emerging from out of nowhere, his aim sighted on you and the others. He was just about to let loose when you saw Caine get dragged towards him, collared now. Seeing that they had that packs Alpha, he dropped his bow and followed along with Pietro and Wanda. Unsure of what to do, Steve had demanded you only be to help and stay out of the actual fighting before breaking from cover earlier. The Omega in you wanting to obey her Alpha, keep pushing others to go into hiding like Steve wanted.

But these were your missing pack mates, and they were causing all the destruction. Everything in your senses screamed at you to go for them, as well as go back into hiding with Kat and the other survivors. Then the hot scent of blood hit you, your Alphas blood. All other thoughts left you as your nose lifted to find him.

It was being hit in the worst way possible, stinging your senses with fear as you broke from Steve's earlier command. Long leaps ate up the ground as you sought him out. You found him trying to bite at Bucky's neck before being thrown to the ground in a way that vibrated the ground, a knee dropping to his ribs while Bucky collapsed full force on him, a flash of silver in his hand let you know. Steve was just about to be collared.

The whole world just zeroes in on that moment, if you can't get there fast enough, you might lose Steve. He might be able to break free from Bucky's hold before the collar is attached. But you can't take that chance, and you make a grab for Bucky's wrist, closing fangs around the metal plates and wrenching back. Catching both of them by surprise, your back paws dig in for traction as you whip your head back and forth in a move meant to snap an animal's neck. It's enough to surprise Bucky and make him fall off the Alpha, the both of you tumbling away. It did earn you a well placed kick to your skull, which caused you to yelp while stunning you.

The Alpha pushed himself up once Bucky rolled off him, unsure of what caused him to let go, but the Alpha wasn’t going to let him get the chance again. The yelp made the hair raise on his back, now seeing the reason Bucky released him.

You disobeyed him, which resulted in your head getting kicked at and you crumpling to the ground in shock. The Alphas rage at your expense caused him to roar in fury, a whirlwind of fury attacking his best friend.

The Alpha managed to back Soldat up, covering your smaller form with his body. The Alpha bristled, his muzzle rolling up to show fangs and ears pinned back flat against his skull, warning him back. Soldat stalled again with the sensation he was supposed to listen to this Alpha, shaking his head to clear the impulsion.

“You got one of the Alpha’s, leave him.” Brock's voice screamed in Soldats ear, clearing it from the impulse. Soldat took off at a run, leaving the two of them behind.

You push yourself back to a shaky stand, having the wind knocked out of you and the kick disoriented you when the steel toe boots connected to your skull. The Alpha watched Bucky race away with perked ears, the shiver rolling through him controlling his urge to follow him, but he turned away from his best friend back to you. Padding over, the Alpha was quick to check you over, his muzzle pressing against your side to make sure nothing was broken till he nudged at your shoulder, getting you to move. When you started towards the injured, he growled sharply, making you falter and lower a bit in submission, unsure of what he wanted.

Coolly he pressed you the opposite way, towards the cabin you two were staying at for the time being. The Alpha didn't let up, keeping you heading away from the others and back to the safety of the cabin.

Steve had never had to quell such scared anger in his life, far more than when you had gone off the road that winter. It was raging hot that he could have lost you to Bucky, so easily. After he told you to stay away from Bucky, in that state the White Wolf would have easily snapped your neck if he got a hold of you. Because that wasn't Bucky, their packmate, his brother. Something happened to him.

You darted into the cabin and Steve was right behind you, the both of you racing up the stairs to the bedroom where you both shifted back almost on cue with one another. You grabbed at clothing, starting to tug them on. “We have to go back out there Steve, find them and the others.”

Steve was doing the same, but he was quick to turn towards you, his eyes still glinting hints of burning yellow while he ground out.

“You are staying here.”

You straightened and lifted your chin a bit when you heard Steve's command. The Little Wolf lowered to the ground hearing her Alpha’s command, but you simply weren’t going to accept that without finding out why you couldn't go help your former packmates. “I’m sure as hell not staying here Steve.” You hiss a bit while heading for the door. Steve was quicker though, his hand circling around your upper arm and tightening enough to pull you to a stop and back into the room. “Let me go Steven!” You try pulling out of his hold, but his hold tightened until he backed you onto the bed.

“I told you once Little One. Stay the fuck here.” His teeth snapped at his words and there was just anger in his features hiding his fear.. Fear that he could have lost you was clouding his mind with jagged memories of Pierce sticking you with that needle and he was that close to losing control and attacking Bucky then. Steve knew that if Bucky hurt you this time in any way, he wouldn't be able to control himself. No one would be safe.

You protested though, going to push against him while your voice raised in your own anger at trying to be controlled, unable to help the others. “Steve you can't-”

This time he roared out, the tendons in his neck rigid and his tone going deep and snarling at you in a way you had never seen before and you shrunk back suddenly from him. “As your Alpha I am, if you know what's good for you Y/N, stay in this cabin. That's an order.”

You hissed at him in anger from between clenched teeth. “You are going to have to make me submit Steve.”

If he had to, he would. Steve almost lost you once, so close… and that was all before you two even bonded. He was ready to lose himself back then and let the Alpha take over. It was an overwhelming sense of loss that sunk in his chest. Needing to push it away, he closed the gap between you two, pressing you back onto the bed in surprise while his lips claimed your own, searing them heatedly, and the shock made you growl against him, grasping his hair to hold on.

Steve kept the pressure, ready to make you submit to him completely. Hands grasped at your thighs, still clothed but he didn't care at this second. Wrapping them around his waist as he kissed you senseless, he easily maneuvered you up the bed, growling harshly when you tightened your hold, pulling his hair at the roots when you grabbed onto his head.

It all happened so suddenly that you could only hang while he maneuvered you to where he wanted you, blinking up at him in shock for a second when he pulled away to pant above you. Locked gazes, you arched up to meet him again, pulling at his shirt to rip at it, his hands doing the exact same to you. Shreds of clothing got tossed away as you both withered against one another. You bit into Steve's shoulder when he rutted himself against you. “You will listen Y/N, You have no choice in this.” he snarled out against your neck.

It was a heated spiral in your limbs, burning in your gut. Echoing in your mind was the Little Wolf snapping and yipping at the Alpha. You pushed against Steve to rub yourself into him, snarling against his ear. “Then do it!” It was animalistic the way he bit at your mark, making you gasp between pleasure and pain while dragging you closer till you felt him everywhere except where you needed him. Slick coated your thighs while his cock dragged against your thigh. “You want to make me listen so badly, here I am.” Another roll of your body and he pulled away to run his hands up your withering body, palms covering your breasts and marking the swells.

Before you knew it, you were flipped to your belly, Steve snapping your hips up in the air, the curve in your back sharp as you clutched at the bedding to scream your frustrations into the mattress, you were furious at Steve for commanding you to stay, and the way your body betrayed you. You could break it, but you didn't want to defy him. You had spent a lifetime going against your instincts protecting yourself, now it was time to trust for once. Steve was different, it was because he loved you to keep you safe, not use you.

He growled above you and you pressed back against him, feeling his hands wrap tightly around your hips and rock you back into position. “I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you.”

You clenched at his words, lifting your head enough to speak without being muffled in the bedding. “Fine Steve, I'm not going anywhere.” You felt yourself finally give into him, not because you couldn't break that bond, but you didn't want to. It ached too much to defy him when it meant so much to him even though it infuriated you to do so.

His hand circled to dip between your thighs, teasing between your folds as he bit your shoulder, holding you still with his other hand while thrusting his cock into your weeping entrance and spreading you open in a sharp sting that made you cry out sharply. His thrusts were quick and dominating, leaving you withering in his hold while fingers strummed your clit and his chest crushed against your back. Grunting growls and slapping skin filled the room, words becoming meaningless between you two.

It was such a primal moment, one complete with trust as neither of you could do anything but seek connection and pleasure from one another. You felt the rush of your orgasm wash over you, crying Steves name with tears in your eyes.

Steve wasn't ready to slow down, feeling you break apart under him just made him go faster, his hand covered in your arousal flushed up your body to fondle your breast, pulling at your nipple and squeezing while he pulled you both up to your knees. It just solidified for him that he needed you, just like this all for him. You arched before him, one hand reaching behind you to grasp the back of his neck, and the other covering his hand clasped over your chest. He still rutted into you, biting your shoulder enough to keep you still while he pounded himself into you.

For You, you had never felt him so entangled in you, holding you to him so that not only did you feel him physically, but mentally. Everything he felt, feared, and needed was just an overflow of information in your bond, and it took such complete control that rational thought was impossible. All you could respond to was the way he dragged out your moans and cries, his grunts into your skin as he slapped against your backside, and punched the air from your lungs when your next orgasm turned the edges of your vision black.

“Steve, I can't…” You begged and he groaned against your mark, his tongue sweeping over the sting of the bite he left, sure you were scented with him.

“You can Little One, I have you.” He assured you as his hard thrusts turned into heavy drags through your sensitive walls that were clenching and trying to hang onto him while he so easily pushed through you to bury to the hilt.

You pushed back into him when he ground into you, the two of you falling back so you were sprawled against his chest, his arm latching over your chest to keep you in place while his feet planted against the bed. Able to leverage himself into filling you so complete, your nails dug into his forearm stretched across you and tears streamed down your face. Your body felt wrung out, not able to give him that last one he wanted.

There was no denying in this moment no matter what way Steve took you, he was in control of you, and you were just able to hold on.

You felt his knot swell, stretching inside of you while he filled you with himself, warm against your aching channel, your body milked him, claiming every burst Steve gave with a growl of your own till it all stopped. Underneath you he calmed, his arm still heavy across your chest, but he was still except for heavy dragging breaths against your neck and your own pants as your head tipped back into his shoulder, staring upwards.

“I promise, I won't leave.”

“Good Girl.” He muttered, still hints of dominating presence in his tone, but it wasn't fear now, but acceptance. Steve managed to roll you onto the bed and his hands rubbed at your side to lull you into closing your eyes to relax in the aftermath. When he pulled out, you whimpered into the pillows, clenching your fingers into the fabric.

“Just rest… I will be back soon.” He nipped at your neck, with that he moved off the bed to grab at his clothing and get dressed while you curled up on the mattress. Your body was tired and is fogging your mind trying to pull you into sleep. The last thing you felt was the scrape of his beard against your cheek as he kissed your temple and left you, his boots heavy thuds down the stairs and the slam of the front door left you alone in the bedroom, slipping finally into a fitful sleep.

The Little Wolf whined loudly after a while, leaving it echoing through your body, distressed that the Alpha was going out on his own, leaving you locked here and had been angry at your defiance. It also effectively woke you back up after a quick nap.

He will be okay. You assured her as you stretched back to a stand and went down the stairs to look out the window, watching for Steve to come back. He must be following Bucky’s trail. What happened to them?

<Hydra… Didn’t you see the collar around Bucky's neck? He's being controlled. If he's being controlled Steve isn't safe going after him alone.> The Little Wolf paced back and forth, anxious with wanting to obey her Alphas command and going to help her Mate in his hunt.

Your fingers curled around the front doors handle a moment, the internal battle making your throat close and eyes well up as you turn away from the door. You would respect your Mates order, as much as it left you scared to do so.

Steve jogged in the forest following Bucky’s scent, quickly picking up the other members of his team as they all met back up at some point. There were also many other scents where other Wolves had passed through, probably in their bid to get away from his missing packmates. Steve pulled out his phone, dialing Natasha as he came stumbling out to a dirt road, and that's where the trail ended. Fresh tire wheels showing where a heavy vehicle sped off.

The ringing of the phone was soon cut with Natasha's voice. “Steve? What’s wrong, why are you calling so late?”

“Nat are you near Y/N’s old pack?” He questioned as he leaned down to look at the tire marks, looking for anything distinct to go on, but he was quick to straighten back up. They were long gone, with Caine he suspected. Just like the other attacks Steve had heard about. For some reason they were taking the packs Alphas.

“Not too far off, why? Where are You and Y/N?” Natasha asked then and Steve confirmed where they were. “I will be right there.”

“Just come right in, Bucky and everyone just hit this area, took off with Caine.”

“Are you guys okay?” Her first concern being for you and Steve.

“Were fine, Y/N is back at the cabin we were staying at and I followed Bucky’s trail to where it ended. They must be holed up somewhere nearby.”

After hanging up, Steve took one last look around the area, and then headed back towards the compound. It would be a bit until Natasha showed up, and he knew he would have to talk to you now that his temper had calmed somewhat.

That wasn't Bucky… or Clint, Wanda, Pietro… Steve thought, and the Alpha growled softly in agreement. They did something to them, controlling them.

Steve’s chest tightened, knowing exactly what the Alpha was talking about. Back in his days working with Howling Commandos they ran into a similar instance before. A group of renegade wolves making their way across Europe destroying not just other shifters, but humans as well in the most vicious way. They managed to disband most of them.

The one that got away, he was the only one to break the control Hydra had on him. Steve recalled.

It was something to consider Steve thought to himself as he made his way back to the cabin, easing the door open to the quiet of the cabin. The Alpha quieted in his mind as Steve let his senses open, feeling for you. He was quick to hear you shifting in the bed upstairs, rolling to your side and not actually getting any rest. An outward exhale of relief you were still safe escaped Steve as he started up the stairs.

You heard Steve come into the house and pushed to sit up when he appeared in the doorway, his eyes roving you up and down, making you feel a bit small after the earlier altercation. Your legs curled up under you at the edge of the mattress, your hands folding into your lap as your head tipped, a typical submissive pose for either your mate of Alpha. “Oh Little One…” Steve started as he came into the bedroom, moving to kneel before you on the floor, his hands sliding along your folded knees and easing up along your bare thighs. “I only did it because I had to.”

Your eyes lifted and a frown fluttered across your face.

“Had to? Steve I’m your mate and partner, you can't just keep me safe all the time.”

A soft growl rose up as he pressed his mouth to your knee, his eyes lifting with a tint of yellow in them, the Alpha so close to the surface while discussing your safety. “Can’t I? As your mate and Alpha, it's taking everything in me now not to bring you back home.” Your hands reached to cup his face, scraping slightly through his beard and spreading against his cheeks. A swipe of your thumb under his tired looking eyes.

“You know I wouldn’t go Steve.” You wrinkled your nose at him slightly and he shifted to nip the top of your thighs, you moved to unfold your legs and let them drape off the edge of the bed, your foot rubbing against Steve's ribs gently. “I can’t just leave them.”

“Still doesn’t change how I have the drive to keep you safe.” Another inhale against your thigh, light bite as Steve tasted you with a press of his tongue. “All I could think of is how I almost lost you with Pierce. Bucky is not Pierce, he's strong, more efficient, and dangerous because he’s being controlled.”

Your knees pressed against his sides and your hold tightened on his jawline to lift him from your lap so he would look at you. “And what about you Alpha? What do you think it does to me when you rush off into danger and I can't be there with you?” You felt Steve's fingers dig slightly into your hips while your words sunk in, the yellow tinge backing away as his Alpha retreated and the crystal blue sharpened. You knew it would pain Steve to think that he had caused you any distress. The Little Wolf whined, her ears flattening while seeing all this being processed.

Steve could feel the Alpha try to keep calm, respect the bond by waiting to be invited before going to his mate. Steve could imagine what you would feel being told to stay while he went into a dangerous situation.

He knew what it did to him, the bile of fear raising up in his throat once more, it wasn't something he was familiar with. Fear didn't live in Steve’s body, not till he had you, then suddenly he really did have something to fear, losing you for good. That all was sunk down deep into him from the first time, maybe he had a problem he never knew he had. That worried him to be so irrational, he couldn't let it control him, because it would just end up pushing you away.

Taking a dragging breath, he pushed up from where he was kneeling on the floor and sat next to you on the bed, you twisted to face him and crawl onto his lap till you were straddled, your arms around his neck, knowing that you had just ripped off a bandaid of sorts. “I’m sorry Little One, I put your safety first in my mind and nothing else. It will end up happening again.”

Your forehead tipped to lean against his, sighing softly as your fingers trailed down the back of his neck and back up.

“Steve, I'm not just your mate, I'm your partner. Where you go, I go to. You can't always keep me out of the way of what you deem dangerous.”

The silence stretched between you two, unable to give each other what the other wanted entirely here.

#attack of the winter wolf #alpha steve rogers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers au #steve rogers x reader #white wolf #bucky barnes #winter soldier #the pack #amber writes #sweater writes #marvel au #shifter steve rogers #shifter bucky barnes #a/b/o

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hes-writer · 4 years

Text

Reign (3)

Summary: harry sees something he's supposed to have

Warnings: angst in the beginning, angst in the middle, angst near the end

Word Count: 4881 words

A/N: @devilinbetweenthesheet-s : dont cheat and don’t do drugs, kids

Tarnish (1) . Halo (2) . Reign (3) . Trial (4) .

Errors (5) . Ruin (6) . Crumble (7)

Error Taglist

____

A writer that cannot write is dead.

When one loses the ability to tell their stories and anecdotes through the mere action of swirling words together to create an imaginable atmosphere of real-world fantasy; they are dead. A writer recovering from the mundane and mediocre way of penning experiences to bounce back into what they used to be is difficult. It is easier to free fall and drown in the depths of despair. The moment thoughts and rumination fog up to form a blurry image of conviction is a warning sign, blaring at the back of their minds and sometimes even in their faces.

Harry is a writer--or, he was. Picking up the pen to style the words lingering in his head used to be as easy as blinking; quick and natural. Now, the words claw at the swell of his throat, trying to spit an adjective to describe the way he felt. It was at the tip of his tongue, waiting to be lathed into existence. It did not matter if his cognition was mingled with various chemicals aimed to be able to feel happiness.

He was sober but he had trouble placing his finger on why it was so strenuous to narrate his feelings throughout the breakup. Being high or drunk was never the answer for him. Weed made him tired and made him have a case of cottonmouth. Harry learned from a young age that he should only ever engage with alcohol if he was in a mindset and setting that catered to increase existing good vibes. He thought that maybe he was in an odd phase of perceiving the opposite, and so he intoxicated himself enough to understand that it didn’t matter if he was soaked head-to-toe in sobriety or whizzed out of his mind by the amber liquid swirling in the glass in his hand. But that wasn’t the circumstance. It also didn’t matter if he was grasping his favourite pen to write--because it was comfortable--or tapping his calloused thumbs against his phone keypad. Hell, it didn’t make a difference when he sat down and prepared his typewriter to indulge in a headspace of vintage songwriting. Maybe that would help.

It didn’t.

He had stories to tell. Everything was laid out in misty overcast yet Harry’s great ideas morphed into gentle mistakes, harsh mistakes and discoveries that had him almost ripping his hair out of the roots of his scalp. When he felt the wave of his ocean-thoughts rise and peek where the sand shifted, his fingers were ready to move and discern for the eyes to see. But with each fritter, he couldn’t seem to get even two paragraphs in to decide that it was utter shit.

Harry was old enough to understand that slumping on the wet sand was a part of life. Sometimes picking up a fistful of grains and throwing them back to the sea was a great way to release frustration. But it seemed like this plunge of his ability to write was a hole of quicksand. He was trying his hardest to displace himself as swiftly as possible but it only made his scenario worse. The muddy sand clung unto his legs like sticky glue, heftier with each effort to leave. He wanted to move on. He wanted to forget everything that occurred in the past four years. Harry wanted to erase Y/N from his life because she wasn’t around anymore to bring those memories back to sparkly existence.

What he needed to do was nestle himself into a certain depth, calmly, in order to pull a limb out and ensure that his progress on the so-called ‘moving on’ did not have any drawbacks. Until then, he cannot possibly create songs that he was well-known for if he wasn’t patient enough.

He wanted so badly to tell his side of the story. Harry craved to think as clearly as he did when he told Y/N about his plan for their future. Admitting to his feelings was a hard route. Sure, he can be vulnerable but it took a great deal of convincing on his part to immerse himself in the deepest parts of his brain to understand why he felt the way he did. He usually had the means of songwriting to help him out but that obviously wasn’t working out that good for him.

___

Harry was packing the rest of Y/N’s things in boxes to be picked up later in the afternoon. He was annoyed at first at how she depended on him to fold her clothes properly instead of doing the bundle of the work herself. But he guessed that she didn’t want to be around him for longer than she had to. To be frank, he also did not want to indulge in what might turn into an argument if they spoke about the reason for their breakup. It was just a bit confusing because he had an urge to still want her around despite their less than likely situation.

Torture. If Harry had one chance to describe the way he felt right now; it was torture. With every nook of Y/N’s side of the closet emptying into brown, cardboard boxes--he physically how much she had integrated her life with his. How much space she took up in his life. How his clothes and her clothes were so interchanged between them that he couldn’t decide if the gray pull-over was actually his or hers. And in a moment of selfishness did he tuck it away for his safe-keeping despite seeing the tag imprinted on the inside; a shop that he hadn’t set foot in so it was a guarantee that it was hers.

Her scent embedded in the thin threads of each fabric wafted to his nose; each with a new wave of memories engulfing his senses as if each piece garnered a specific scent tailored to a specific event. Like her sunflower sundress--it smelled of fresh flowers as if the print was a scratch and sniff that released a fragrance. Or their DIY-ed tie-dye shirt of pastel blue and cotton candy pink. It was a matching piece made out of the cheap dye and a simple white tee but it was theirs. Things like these made Harry want to yell in frustration because every time he thought that he was completely over her-- Y/N appears out of visibly nowhere and towers over him.

Seeing her for the first time in days was a breath of relief. She looked fine. Glowing even, and Harry did not know what to make of it. As sadistic as it sounded, he was expecting dry-stained tears and a birds’ nest of hair trampling her head. Instead, Y/N was dressed for comfort in her baggy jeans and an even looser sweater covering her body. Her lips were drawn in a thin line, giving him a nod in greeting as he gestured to the boxes littering the floor.

Harry offered to help--it was the least he could do. And somehow, silence protruded from the tense atmosphere, begging to be cut by a knife yielded through their voices nipping at each others’ emotions.

“Let go of my damn hand,” Y/N stated, her hard stare could turn Harry into stone. He just wanted her to listen before she left.

He shook his head in denial of her request, tightening his grip further. “No. Listen to me, Y/N,”

“What do you possibly have to say that will change anything between us?”

And maybe it was her fault for assuming that he wanted to fix things. The sliver of hope thinly dressed behind closed lids enabled her to think that maybe he was going to say that he wanted to make things work again. That he had broken up with Camille and he realized what a stupid he had done throwing away everything they built up to for the past four years for an affair that couldn’t quench the thirst of his desire to have a family.

Harry sighed, a shadow of mischievous smirk painted on his lips. But maybe it was Y/N’s sight in deception because she could never see Harry as anything other than sweet and kind Harry incapable of hurting a fly.

“What? I don’t intend to. We’re broken. We’re beyond fixing,”

The hitch in her breath was as sharp as the stare he was searing her with. Forcing her to please understand that this would be their last conversation--if time and fate were on their side. “You’re not something I would take the time to handle,”

“Stop saying shit you don’t mean, Harry” Y/N rolled her eyes in annoyance. His macho act was barely an act and more like a stage curtain easily pushed with a flick of a wrist.

“Things I don’t mean?”

“You heard me,” She crossed her arms over his chest in defence, leaning against the closed trunk. “Say what you will but our love was real. Don’t make me seem like I’m crazy. Don’t tell me that I’m a mistake,” Her voice was filled with confidence because she knew the affection that Harry diffused.

The cradles of his palm at the small of her back when they had to walk past a crowd. The subtle graze of the back of his fingers caressing the bare skin of her arm. Kisses pressed to her temple as she read a novel and swirling fingertips twirling her hair. These were acts of love that happened nearly every day in their relationship. A routine that felt different if it wasn’t done to or with each other.

Exasperatedly, Harry felt the same itching crawling up his spine. His ego ballooning into a delicate size and one more word from Y/N’s lush lips would have him on his hands and knees, begging for her back.

“This, us, was a fuckin’ mistake,” Harry’s accent thunked heavily in her cochlea, practically spitting the words out of his mouth as if they were poisonous. Ringed fingers gesticulated the space between them to emphasize how much of a misunderstanding they truly were. “I should’ve known the second things went further than planned,”

Y/N felt her heart drop to her full stomach. The feeling so nauseating that she instinctively palmed her belly over the fabric to protect her little baby from his harsh words. Even though they weren’t directed towards anyone but Y/N. She didn’t think that their unborn child deserved scrutiny from their own father.

“You don’t mean that, Harry.”

Because how could he? Not when he emulated sincerity through his syrupy voice. Not when he spent hours loving on her tummy and spoke to it like he would if she were pregnant. Especially not when every kiss from him felt like a buzz of electricity coursing through her veins because he was the main distributor of her happiness.

Harry truly was an asshole for making her hope and wonder of what the future held when he was unsure himself. He did want a family. That was a statement in all its truthfulness. What he wasn’t sure about was if he wanted a family with Y/N. He could have a family; kids of his own in his own time. But Y/N didn’t have to necessarily be the mother. So was he besotted with the concept of family and marriage regardless of who it was with?

“But I do,”

The rain started drizzling in frequent spurts, planting a fat droplet on her cheek that could be argued as a tear escaping Y/N’s eye. It hurt a lot to hear that from him. The man of her dreams blatantly denying each sugary word because his plans had changed.

“You’re a goddamn mistake is what you are,’

“Why are you. . .saying all these things to me? Are you trying to hurt me?” The shakiness of Y/N’s tone had Harry swallowing his words down his strep throat.

He shook his head in disagreement, “No, I’m not. ‘M just tryna make you see my side. So you can understand,” His head dipped to the side, softening his tone yet stern as though he was speaking to a child.

And that was one of the reasons why Y/N didn’t believe his all-too stoic demeanour about her. Harry was great at making others see his side regardless of how much in the wrong he was.

So why was he struggling?

___

Needless to say, he wasn’t very respectful towards Y/N any other time afterwards. He had unblocked her number months after blocking it at one point and demanded answers that he didn’t have the right to know. In retrospect, Harry was embarrassed by the way he acted. He did cheat on her and suddenly he was a saint because she moved on quicker than he thought she would? Unbelievable.

In his defence, the night he became the drunk caller was the same night he fought with Camille about having children; having a family they can call their own. Ever since that discussion did Harry notice a dispatch in their relationship. It was like they were aware of a missing link that had disappeared in their connection, but neither one of them wanted to be the one to bring it up. Harry supposed that now that Camille knew what he wanted (and vice versa)--she was feeling the pressure of giving in to him. Don’t get him wrong, Harry absolutely wanted a family and he thought that Camille was the right partner to build it with. However, he couldn’t help the voice at the back of his mind slyly whispering that he had forced her to give him what he wanted for the sake of saving their failing relationship.

___

It had been two and a half years since he mildly and miserably accepted that his dream family was being erased like a pencil on paper.

The first year; Harry still clung to the obscure hope that Camille might change her mind of having kids. Many fights sprouted between the two of them concluding in them sleeping at different places for weeks on end until they eventually crawled back to each other like an invisible string. The second-year; Harry brought up the idea of adoption. It was a hard choice for him as he desperately wanted kids of his own. A boy that looked like him and his love or a little girl that smiled at him with deep dimples mirroring his own.

And Harry liked to think that he was just on the edge of convincing Camille to consider the option when his tour was scheduled a few months after. A new dealbreaker was that Harry wasn’t going to be around much to watch and nurture the little bub they might’ve adopted. It was a sudden intrusion to think about since Harry was good with kids. He knew that. That was why he had three godchildren of his own. But what hit him the most was how sure Camille sounded when she yelled at him about leaving for months at a time and returning for a bit, only to leave again. Now, Harry hadn’t considered that part. But surely he will be ready to choose between a family and his career, right? When the time comes, he thought.

___

It pained Harry to admit that his relationship with Camille was dwindling down the drain. The knowledge that there was no future--the one that Harry envisioned--for them was getting more and more real each passing day.

A late-night grocery trip was one of the many examples that had Harry rethinking his actions for the past couple of years. It was the time period where night owls arose and barely any customers littered the aisles. Still, Harry made sure to keep his hoodie up to shield his face.

Camille had an early flight to Milan in just a few hours later that day and she wanted to purchase some things to bring with her; in case they weren’t available in the country. So here they were at three in the morning.

As Camille walked ahead of him in her sweatpants and a plain tee, Harry couldn’t help but let his eyes flicker to the clothing section to his right The first-floor space was decorated with pastel blues and pinks; a stroller was displayed with a price would not make a dent in Harry’s bank account.

“‘M just gonna grab somethin’ over here, Cam,” Harry muttered as he pointed a thumb behind him. She nodded, “Meet me at the produce? Need to get you some fruits,”

Harry felt guilt thudding his chest because although he was losing feelings he thought were written in stone, Camille appeared to care for him the same way she always had.

He walked to the brightly lit area, puffing his cheek as a cute onesie caught his eye, “You’re so golden” with the word ‘golden’ printed in a shiny, yellow glimmer. He smiled at the thought of baby angel cooing at him as he tickled her tummy. Harry passed by the shoes next, picking up a pair barely the size of his palm. His mind flashed back to a conversation with Y/N years ago,

___

“I’m just saying,” Y/N took a bite of a pickle she held on her left hand, “Baby shoes have no business being that expensive,”

Harry chuckled from his place across the counter, “Babies need shoes too, love,’

She grabbed her fork and stabbed a piece of strawberry from her bowl, “I didn’t say the don’t need shoes. For tiny things, they could at least be a bit cheaper,”

Harry watched as she munched on a pickle on her left and took a bite of a strawberry on the other. His tongue poked out in a gag at the odd combination, resorting in glare and a huff from Y/N.

“You should try it instead of judging me,’

“No, thank you. Watching you eat it is enough for me,’

___

Harry craned his head at each aisle, hoping to find Camille and to distract himself from the endless Y/N related thoughts that somehow returned to his brain. He needed his girlfriend to remind him that he cannot just knock on Y/N’s door and ask her about the baby she has. If he could hold them for a bit because his baby fever was through the roof.

Locating the produce section, Harry whistled mindlessly as he searched for a blonde head of hair, failing to notice that there was a basket in front of his feet. He had kicked it, jolting him out of his thoughts in a hurry.

A man with brown hair sporting an outfit similar to his (sweats and a hoodie), chuckled at him as Harry leaned down to retrieve the gray basket filled with a jar of pickles.

“Sorry man,” Harry muttered, holding the handles up for the man to carry.

“It’s alright, it happens,” The guy had not seen his face yet, too busy inspecting the carton of strawberries.

He decided to continue the conversation, “Strawberries and pickles? Odd combo, huh,” Harry was briefly reminded of Y/N’s obsession with the two rival products.

“Yeah, m’lady loves ‘em. Had a craving in the middle of the night. She’s in the car right now with our lil bubba,”

Harry’s heart fluttered at the mention of a baby. He needed to get his rails in check. He cannot keep having his heart bursting with adoration at the mere mention of a baby.

“I’m Connor,” He said, finally facing Harry after choosing the best carton.

“I'm--,”

“Harry!” Both men turned their heads towards Camille carrying a basket full fruits and green veggies, “Got you some stuff to blend for your smoothies,”

Connor squinted his eyes at the couple and Harry internally screamed because he knew that he and Camille had been recognized. “Harry. Yeah, I know you,” The sudden hostility made Harry confused as Connor grasped his basket from him in a harsh manner, heading towards the checkout.

The rest of the time inside the store was filled with curiosities as Harry carried the paper bags towards the car, barely recognizing Connor’s figure heading towards his own vehicle. Luckily, Harry has parked only a few slots away and could inconspicuously watch Connor and his so-called ‘lady’.

Except, Camille was ushering him to hurry up as she still had a few things to pack at home.

___

On most days, Harry was used to waking up alone. Used to feeling the shiver crawling up his side, used to seeing the indent left by Camille’s body instead of her. He had grown familiar with the sudden cast of loneliness blanketing him thicker than the duvet on top of his body.

The early morning trip to the store had tired him out, paired with the overthinking of the man named ‘Connor’ that flipped his attitude towards him quicker than he could kick the grey basket with his feet. He flopped back to the mattress after washing his face and brushing his teeth. It was noon when he jolted out of bed again at the sound of his front door opening, voices filling the empty space that had Harry running towards the foyer in case there was an intruder.

His tense shoulders sagged in relief when he caught sight of his mum and Gemma, “Oh, s’just you guys,”

Both women looked up at him at the top of the stairs, “You forgot we were coming over for the weekend, didn’t you?” Gemma teased as she headed to the living room. Harry followed, walking down the stairs.

He scratched the nape of his neck nervously, “No. . . “

“Can you help me reach this, H?” Anne called out from the kitchen.

His mum gave him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek, “Yes, you did, by the way. Slept through the whole morning. Good thing Camille let us in before she left,”

At the sound of a bag crumpling and squeals echoing the hollow house, Harry scrunched his nose in curiosity, briskly walking where Gemm was currently holding up tiny baby clothes in front of her. “Who’s that for?” He thought of any possible friends that had had a baby recently but couldn’t recall any.

She immediately stuffed the clothing into the bag, nervously placing a hand on her chest, “Gosh, Harry, you scared me,” Her brows went high on her forehead in alarm, sharing a look with her mum trailing behind Harry.

“Well? Did I miss something?”

“Oh, it’s for one of my friends,”

Harry contemplated on his next words, “D-did you know that Y/N had a baby?” It couldn’t be right if his sister and mum knew about his exes baby and not him, right? That’s just plain odd to still be in touch with an ex's family. His brows furrowed in suspicion as both of them declined his question.

“What? Nooo,”

Awkward silence filtered through the air as Anne sipped water from her mug and Harry was slowly putting the pieces together. Gemme dove to the centre of the couch where her phone was when it rang suddenly, surprising all three of them. Harry was quicker, eyeing his mum and sister and inspecting the emoji substituting as a name before sliding his thumb to answer it.

"Hey, Gems! Are you coming to the park? We're waiting for you,”

Harry felt his heart drop to his stomach just as the phone nearly slipped from his clutch. That voice. He could recognize it from everywhere having spent nearly every morning for the four years that they were together hearing it lulling him out of sleep. It was Y/N’s voice calling his sister who was looking extremely anxious.

He tapped on the ‘mute’ button, “What does she mean ‘we’?”

“Nothing! Give me my phone back,” Gemma tried to reach for the device but Harry held it high beyond her reach.

“I saw the picture you sent me. I told you that you and Anne didn’t have to get me anything,” Harry felt dizzy. “Connor and I got some things a few weeks ago. But that skirt is so adorable!”

One part of him was glad to hear her voice. In fact, Harry found himself smiling too, despite what he just heard. Connor. “Harry, won’t be there right? Hello? Have I been talking to myself this whole time,” Y/N laughed a little; she had a habit of talking endlessly when she was excited. It made Harry more sombre, letting his guards down and his arm in reach for Gemma to grasp.

“Hey! I'm just organizing the clothes, see you soon!" Gemma jammed her finger on the red end call, anxiously glancing at her brother, piecing everything together.

“Who's Connor?" Could it be that the Connor he met last night was the same as Y/N’s? The one who bought pickles and strawberries--one of Y/N favourite food combinations? He mentioned that he had a little girl and Y/N just called to meet his sister and his mum at the park. And baby clothes?

Anne and Gemma looked at each other, quickly deciding that for the benefit of Harry that they should tell him at least a little bit. He was looking as if he was going insane, especially with his bed head pointing his hair out in different directions.

“He’s Y/N’s partner”

Harry gulped, reeling his thoughts to a halt, “Partner? And the baby is...?” The last bit of confirmation was all he needed to lash his feelings out.

“Is... waiting for us at the park! Sorry H gotta go,” Gemma was swift enough to gather all the bags without having Harry chase after her. His state of confusion and shock was enough to render him partially speechless and immobile.

“Hey wait!”

Anne garnered his attention, “Oh, Mrs. Q from next door wants me over for dinner. I’m sure wants to see us both. Why don’t you get ready, Harry?” Anne tugged his arm in the direction of the staircase pushing him to stumble up a couple of steps.

Harry was confused. He made the sounds of his footsteps creeping up the wooden stairs, hearing his mum quietly talking to Gemma on the phone, “Elmsway Park, you said? How long till you're home? I’m not sure how long I can keep him occupied,”

With that being said, Harry was out of his house, silently unlocking and locking the door. He was dressed in some basketball shorts and a graphic tee, slipping on the first pair of sneakers he had tossed aside. Harry jogged to his car, typing in the name of the park on his phones’ GPS. The route was only a few minutes away so he decided to take his time, gathering his scattered thoughts along the way.

He parked just beside the playground scouting the trees around the premises. Harry decided that it was the perfect day. The sun was out. It wasn’t too humid and the birds were chirping on the branches. He could see why the playground was full of children running around in delight. The green patches of grass were partially filled with picnic blankets and food to be shared. Families laughed with each other as one in particular caught his eye.

It made him smile at first, seeing just how adorable the couple was with their baby. He exited the car, making sure to lock the vehicle. With his hands jammed deep in the pockets of his shorts, Harry could feel the tethered grass rubbing against his legs. As he got closer, he couldn’t help the twinge of familiarity spark in his chest, recognizing that what he was staring at was Connor playfully chasing a little girl of about two-years-old as she squealed at how close he was getting to tagging her.

Harry stood by a tree, shielding him away from view. He tried to appear invisible without seeming too creepy. He knew that it was only a matter of seconds before his eyes found the woman he had been missing, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

Connor picked up the little girl in his arms, dotting pecks all over the girls’ cheeks, causing her to giggle and push his face away with a tiny palm. And there she was standing outside the raised platform of the playground, coming up to the both of them with a juice box in hand to hydrate the little angel. Connor turned his attention to Y/N, planting the most adoring kiss on her lips that made her smile so wide and the baby cover her eyes. They laughed together, looking like a picture-perfect family.

Gemma sat on the bench, flickering her gaze to the precious family in front of her and to the figure of her brother walking away from the scene. Her heart broke for Harry, and it cracked, even more, when he turned back. This time, watching Connor and Y/N cheer on baby angel to go down the slide. Both of them clapped their hands in enthusiasm as the girl hesitantly slid down the plastic slide. The smile on her face was infectious.

It almost made Harry smile, too.

___

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harrywritingsbyme · 4 years

Text

Sunday Smut Concept #27

A/N: Best Friends Dad!Harry is backkkk🤪...and he’s coming back hottt🥵🤤!! Enjoy🙃

Okay so you can not tell me and I refuse to listen to anyone who try's to tell me that this is not best friends dad!Harry and Y/N.

Like you and your best friend we’re having a little weekend together and since it was your last night there before heading back to your place tomorrow afternoon, the two of you decided to throw your bathing suits on and chill in the hot tub for a little while before getting ready for bed. After an hour or two of sitting in the warm jet filled hot tub and sipping on the beers you two “borrowed” from Harry’s case in the fridge, the time had come for your friend to call it a night.

“As much as I wanna stay out here with you and continue enjoying this amazing and strangely powerful jet, I’m gonna call it a night.” Your friend announces, standing up from the water and gathering up the now empty beer bottles.

“I think I’m gonna stay out here a little longer. This jet feels really good.” You reply with a little laugh.

“Well I’ll see you tomorrow morning. I’m gonna pass out once I get inside.” She says to you, making her way out of the hot tub.

“Night girlie, I’ll try to be quiet.” You hum in response, sinking back into the corner (and jet) you were sitting in. After sitting there by yourself for a good 15 minuets, you began to want a little company. Luckily for you, the person you wanted to keep you company had the same idea.

When Harry heard his daughter come upstairs, he figured that you were close behind. But after checking in on her, he pieced together that you were still awake and outside. This was literally the perfect time for the two of you to spend some time together. Since your friend was passed out in bed, the two of you could be together and not have to worry much about getting caught. With this being said, as soon as he came to this conclusion, Harry quickly made his way back down the hall to his room to text you.

When you heard your phone ping, you didn’t even have to look at it to figure out who was messaging you. You knew for a fact that it was Harry and you knew exactly what he wanted. To tease him a little, you hold off on replying for a couple minuets after receiving his message. You wanted to get under his skin a little. Once you finally decide to check his message, you’re welcomed with a very blunt and to the point message.

Daddy💦🦋🤤🥵✨: You should come in here and let me pound you into the mattress.

You: maybe you should come out here and pound me in the hot tub. this jet feels really good.

If he wanted you, he was going to have to come and get it.

And he did just that. As soon as he read your reply, he started undressing himself and making his way out to you. Harry didn’t waste any time. He had one mission, and it was to have some amazing sex with his girlfriend. Even if it was in the hot tub in his backyard; he’d do anything to be inside you. Plus he wanted to nip you using the jets to pleasure yourself in the bud. If he was around, he wanted to be the only source of your pleasure. When you heard the back door open, your head perked up and you saw a shirtless and what was about to be pant-less Harry charging out of the house. After throwing his joggers on the couch, Harry was charging towards you full speed ahead. Once he made it to the edge of the tub, he was down to just his tight boxers. It took Harry all of five seconds to shove his boxers down and expose his hard cock.

“Can i suck your dick before you fuck me?” You inquire bluntly. The way his big and very hard cock sprung up when he shoved his underwear down really did something to you. Seeing his cock was making you tingle a bit.

“No.” Harry replies simply, wrapping a hand around his thick shaft in the process. Your breasts looked so good in that barely there bikini top. All he wanted to do was pounce on you and just rip it off of your body to free your perky breasts that he were just begging to be in his hands.

“How about you fuck me on the couch over there.” You begin, lifting yourself out of the hot tub and heading in the direction of the out door couch that was situated not to far behind Harry. With you now being out of the water, Harry got to see your wet body in all of it’s glory. The bikini bottoms(if he could even bring himself to call them that) were barely holding on. It was covering you (and he used covering very lightly) by a thread. The thin ties were knotted at your fleshy and delectable hips and that was about it. The area between your hips and pussy was 95% bare. The only fabric down there was a thin and narrow patch of fabric that was designated to cover your cunt. And it wasn’t doing that great of a job. The lights that were strung throughout the backyard gave Harry just enough light to see the outline of your plush pussy. He got to see the outline of your pussy lips and your mound that he loved to squeeze while he pounded into you. If you were to do anymore than walk, your pussy was bound to fall out of those bottoms. “Know how much you like to pin me down and mount me from behind.” You continue. Your words manage to break Harry out of his bikini induced trance and bring him back to reality where you were standing right in front of him. Before going any further, you send him a quick wink and you try to make your way over to the couch. But Harry is quick to stop you in your tracks. In an instant, Harry has one of his ringed hands wrapped tightly around your arm pulling you back in front of him.

“What you’re going to do is get back in there and do as I say.” Harry grumbles with authority, making his dominance over you known. “How about that?” Harry asks sarcastically, using your words against you.

“Yes daddy.” You whisper back to him. Even though you were all wet from being in the water, you could still feel some of your sticky arousal forming.

Instead of verbally replying to you all Harry does is release your arm, lightly shoving it back in the direction you came. You then turn back around to get back into the hot tub. As you walk back, Harry follows behind you and he takes a nice long stare at your ass. He couldn’t take his eyes off of the supple flesh of your thighs and backside as you walked in front of him. In that moment, Harry made a mental note to stock you up on these bikinis, he absolutely loved them on you. He continues to follow you down and into the warm water until you’re backed right into the corner you were sitting in at first. His hands move down to your hips under the water, giving your flesh a good squeeze before plucking the ties of your bottoms undone.

“Now m’gonna fuck you, and you’re going to love it. You’re gonna take my cock, and you’re gonna keep quiet.” Harry says matter of factly, quickly snatching the now loose bottoms off of your body and spreading your legs to stand between them before moving up to your top. “Understand?” He asks, resulting in a small nod from you. “Good.”

Then without warning, Harry brings his head in and attaches his mouth to your neck. His tongue laps up and down your neck as he sucks on your skin. As he continues to tenderly move his mouth against your neck, Harry brings his arms underneath your body, pulling you up towards his body. Your head was now resting against the edge of the tub and your lower was closer to Harry’s, so close that you could feel his cock moving against you as he rutted against your body while he kissed your neck. You were completely dying over the way he just took control over your body. He knew exactly how to get you worked up. From the way he licked and sucked at your neck to the way he pulled your body down and in to his so that you could feel his cock as he rutted forward against you, Harry really knew how to pleasure you to the max. After kissing at your neck and teasing you with his cock a little longer, Harry was ready to be inside of you. Keeping one arm under yours to keep you up and his hand on the edge behind you, Harry removes the other and brings it down to his cock. He gives himself a few tugs before lining his hardened cock up with your entrance and pushing into you.

“Fuck daddy!” You gasp, feeling his big cock entering you. It felt so good to be full of him again. You’d missed the feeling of his big cock stretching your walls out and pleasuring you.

“That’s right baby, take it. Take daddy’s cock.” Harry grumbles through a moan. Harry didn’t know if it had anything to do with the warm water or if it was just you, but your walls felt incredibly warm around him and he loved it. Your walls never failed to be spongy and warm for his cock. Once his cock is fully sheathed between your walls, Harry gives no time for adjustment and goes straight into thrusting. He starts off a little slow and builds up to full speed. As he does this, your moans get a little louder. You were trying to keep your moans at bay but the way his cock was moving inside of you felt so good. You could even feel the thick veins that traveled up his shaft gliding against your walls. To make it even better, you could feel the powerful stream of water moving below you, intensifying the already immense pleasure you were receiving from Harry.

As he continued to fuck into you, Harry also tried to keep his moans at bay. You just felt so good around him and your pitiful little moans were making it even better. You were trying so hard to keep yourself together and quiet as he fucked into you. One moment he’d give it to you really hard, shoving his cock deep into you and slamming it into your sweet spot over and over again and the next he’d slow his hips down and send deep and languid thrusts into you. You could hardly keep up with the rollercoaster that was the speed of your hips. All you could do was relax your body into Harry and take in his pleasure.

“Oh my god!” You slur out through a whimper. Harry was sucking right on the sweet spot of your neck and he was slamming into your sweet spot over and over again. It felt so good that it was pushing you really close to the edge.

“Such a good girl for daddy.” Harry groans blow your ear, continuing to suck on your skin. “Lettin’ him fuck your pretty little pussy while your best friend is asleep.” Harry continues, feeling his own release rapidly bubbling up inside of him. “Dirty little thing.” He finishes.

He only got a few more thrusts in before you were tightly clenching your walls up around him. After countless thrusts to your sweet spot and the continuous attack on your neck, you were done for. Your release has grown into this huge wave that was about to crash down onto you. This was the same for Harry, He could feel his release creeping up on him and you clenching onto his cock only made it creep up quicker.

“Cum with me sweet girl.” Harry pants, fully removing his face from your neck and smearing his lips onto your parted ones before delivering one final thrust into you that sends you both toppling over the edge. The both of you moan into each others mouths as you let go around each other. It felt so good to be around each other like this again. After riding the waves of your releases, you and Harry relax into each other and enjoy the closeness that neither of you you have been able to enjoy in a while.

Now even though the both of you were recovering from your releases, Harry wasn’t done with you. He planned on taking you up on your offer to pin you down and mount you from behind, along with everything else under the sun. You were going to be in for a long night.

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chocosvt · 4 years

Text

⚬ pairing: junhui x reader ⚬ word count: 8125 ⚬ warnings: none! ⚬ genres: secret relationship, some slice of life uni moments, FLUFF, very light angst, spice, roommates!wonhui.

✧✎ synopsis: you’re friends with junhui - but also, not really. it’s friends and a little bit more than that. it’s difficult keeping your relationship a secret, especially when you’ve never loved someone the way you love him.

✧✎ a/n: NOBODY MOVE! I WROTE A JUN BDAY FIC ;_; this is really just me projecting all my years of love onto a word doc. enjoy!!

It was midnight, and the apartment was dark, unmoving. No one had bothered to clean the blue cereal bowl left in the sink and there remained bread crumbs on the countertop from lunch. As you flicked through the strange glimpses of late-night television, yawning in an outrageous width, there was a hunger pang, accompanied by an immediate craving for some sort of sweet candy.

So, you did what seemed best: fit into your sneakers and a windbreaker and push open the door to Jun’s bedroom while he was curled up on his side watching his drama. Wonwoo would usually be occupying the adjacent bed, though he had stayed over at Joshua’s dorm to study for his next history summative. Yet he’d left his beat-up, decaying textbook on his pillow.

“Put on your slippers or something, we’re going to the convenience store.”

Jun didn’t say anything, rather he continued holding out his phone, the bedsheets pulled taunt to his nose. Looking at Jun’s desk that sat next to the door, you picked up the rubber band ball he’d been adding to since his twelfth-grade year and threw it at his shoulder.

“Ow!” He squeaked dramatically. His head then poked over his shoulder as he attempted to see where the ball rolled off to.

“Put on your slippers,” you reiterated, “I want strawberry tangs.”

Without much effort, Jun quickly gave up looking for the elastic ball and returned to watching his drama, establishing his comfort while somehow still persisting to ignore you. He was very much so a homebody, and if it weren’t for you guiding him out the apartment like a grandchild taking their elderly for an afternoon walk, then he might’ve never left his bedroom apart from his class schedule. Yet, you knew exactly how to persuade him, weaken his heart that was already soft and golden.

An immediate whine rumbled in his throat when you jumped on the bed, pulling at him until he finally rolled onto his back, at last pressing pause on his phone. You tossed a thigh over each side of his silhouette and gripped the boy’s wide shoulders, gazing unflinchingly past his black fringe and into those big, glistening eyes.

“Come with me to the store,” you weren’t sure if you were offering or demanding, “please?”

“I-Isn’t it a little late for that?” Jun stumbled through his laughter. “Why do you need me?”

It was a surface-level question really, but nonetheless, your heart still skipped a beat. In only a second or more the silence was bearing down too heavily and it felt like your heart was a book with all its pages out. Jun’s eyes were twinkling as he blinked up at you.

“Walking around alone at night? Hello? Do you have no concern for me?” Came your joking counter.

He tossed his head back, the black fringe bouncing from his lashes. His capitulating yelp of, “fine, fine, I’ll come” was satisfactory enough for you to remove yourself from the boy’s tiny waist, where you stepped on the floor and nearly sprained your ankle due to that dumb, elastic ball. At least you found it. While you returned the toy to his desk, Jun quickly threw a worn jean jacket over his black long sleeve and didn’t bother bending down to fix his sneakers, his heels jutting out the back.

At the convenience store, the only shoppers were you, Junhui, and this lady wearing a huge pair of sunglasses, though you figured she was far from the strangest of the midnight stragglers.

It was rather quiet, even with the fluorescent lights buzzing and the battery-powered fan keeping the cashier cool at the register. You grabbed the first package of strawberry tangs while Jun sorted through the other flavours very meticulously.

“What about blue raspberry?” He said. “You don’t want that?”

“I don’t know, I just really have a craving for strawberry.”

Jun detached a bright green package from the rack. “Sour apple? What about that?”

“Not tasty at all. Pass.”

He grabbed another package and quirked his eyebrow. “Sweet cherry? Come on. That sounds good.”

You lightly hit his arm with the strawberry candy, your laughter echoing over the shelves, “I just want strawberry! If you think the sweet cherry sounds good then you buy it!”

But Jun just shook the black fringe from his playful gaze, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Tangy zangys are the bottom tier of gummy candy. No way.”

“So shut up then.” The words were harsh, yet your smile was no more menacing than a butterfly.

Since it would be impossible for Jun to leave the store without stocking his snack collection, you shopped for longer than expected, filling a basket with spicy chips and hard candies and a few chocolate bars. Heading home down the nighttime street, beneath the moonlight, the infinite expanse of a blackness that felt like a cocoon, you had already ripped open your strawberry tangs while Jun tore the corner off a tiny pouch of bubblegum poprocks.

They crackled loudly on his tongue, in which he made sure to hover in close proximity to your ear, ensuring you could detect every small fizzle. Each time it warranted you to shove him away, muttering a cheap laugh about how it wasn’t required that he lean in so generously, though you couldn’t evade that one nervous thought ticking at the back of your head: you wanted to kiss him, wrap your palm around Jun’s neck and taste the electric bubblegum from his heart-shaped mouth.

“Aren’t you glad you came with me?” You asked, suckling the sugar off a red candy strip.

Jun swallowed his poprocks. “I guess you can word it like that.”

Standing at the living room fish tank, you opened the tab to the flake box and shook the food into the water, your pink guppy who you had so fittingly named, Princess Pebble, swimming toward the surface in order to nip at the flakes. Wonwoo observed you from his seat at the kitchen table, dragging his spoon through the remainder of his cereal, scooping out the last soggy pieces.

“I feel good about it,” Wonwoo hummed, referring to the history test he wrote yesterday, “I think I might’ve left out some information on the essay question.”

You closed the fish flakes and returned to the table, where you left your cup of tea.

“Eh, who cares,” you mumbled behind the rim, “you’re gonna get like a ninety-five anyways.”

The boy shrugged, pressing a fingertip to his glasses, moving them higher up his nose. He had always been diligent with his studying, though he often left the apartment to write notes at the library or a classmate’s dorm. It was difficult to accomplish much when Junhui would distract him, and rather than reading his textbook, Wonwoo would always end up playing computer games with the latter.

“Did you hear Jun come home last night?” You asked, gulping the rest of your tea.

Wonwoo set his bowl into the sink and filled it with water, smiling. It irked you somehow. You were only curious about whether or not he heard Jun return from his dance practice.

Joining him at the sink to clean your mug, you bumped his elbow. “What’s so cute over here?”

“Nothing,” he hummed dismissively, “I heard him crawl into bed, that’s pretty much it.”

“And that’s funny or something?”

“You ask about him quite frequently.” Wonwoo turned to you with a suspecting glance, one that made you subtly desire to dump a cup of water over his head. “You know that, right?”

The morning air was cool, yet your face felt immensely heated, almost prickling.

“I ask because we’re fri—”

“Friends. Yeah, yeah.” Wonwoo huffed, the omniscient smile creeping back toward his mouth, to which you could do nothing apart from gawk at your roommate despite his reiteration of a musing that wasn’t at all unfamiliar. “I’ve always loved you for your innate sense of comedy. It’s priceless.”

It’s what everyone assumed anyways. You and Jun fought tooth and nail to articulate your friendship, to paint with the colours that would lead everyone to believe it was true. Most often your explanations worked, yet there remained some who were particularly stubborn. Wonwoo was an evident case. But he was too close, too eagle-eyed, and he saw that you and Jun behaved in a manner completely beyond friendship. Despite the likewise feelings, something unbeknownst kept you apart.

“I know exactly what that means, idiot!” Echoed your shout as Wonwoo disappeared down the corridor, hoping to take refuge in his bedroom.

“I’m glad!” The depth of his voice reverberated into the kitchen, and you heard his door quickly shut.

No less than a few seconds later did Junhui reveal himself from around the corner, clean and freshened up after a steamy shower, one he desperately needed upon immediately passing out, sweat-soaked and exhausted in his bed the night before. Soonyoung definitely hadn’t taught their lesson with any degree of ease. Pretending you weren’t just quipping at Wonwoo, you smiled.

“Were you two fighting?” Jun asked, pulling out a frying pan from the cupboard. He usually whipped together an omelette for breakfast.

“No, not at all. We never fight, remember?”

Jun scoffed while opening the fridge, removing an egg carton and a plastic wrapping filled with vegetables. Still hungry, you started peeling open a tangerine from the fruit basket and stood next to him as he organized the produce onto a cutting board. Ever so faintly, you could smell the crisp scent to his aftershave. It was peculiar how a bit of foam could render your chest that cottony.

“In fact, when’s the last time you even remember an argument Wonwoo and I had?” You prodded.

“Two days ago,” Jun laughed, “when Wonwoo wanted to watch that exploration documentary on King Tut, but you changed the channel so you could finish the last season of Home Makeover.”

Pressing his rose lips together, Junhui casted you an innocent glance. “So there’s that.”

Separating a small slice of tangerine, you gently pushed the clove into the boy’s mouth. He smiled softly as he began to chew. With the gentle tang of citrus in the air, you set a hand on Jun’s shoulder and buried your face against his warm neck, whispering, “yeah, and it was definitely worth it.”

Quite frankly, neither you, Jun, Wonwoo, or Joshua were fairing optimally at the library. While Wonwoo sat on the opposite side of the table helping Joshua organize his economics presentation, you were neglecting your biology packet, instead choosing to sketch a tiny Princess Pebble in the paper’s upper corner. Jun had been tasked with reviewing his latest theatre script, yet he hadn’t even flicked through it. He was intrigued by one of the numerous mangas he’d saved to his phone.

“Take the last point off here,” Wonwoo said, peering over Joshua’s shoulder at his laptop, “there’s too much text, and this isn’t a major branch of your topic anyways.”

Joshua sighed as he made a few clicks on his keyboard. “Dude, I don’t think I can edit another word. This class is so boring.”

“Mr. Canning is just a boring professor,” Wonwoo sympathized, “it would be best if it were someone who weren’t so… dry. I guess is the right word.”

Slumping back in his chair, Joshua huffed, “he’s like a human chalk stick.”

Desperate to discuss something that wasn’t related to his lacklustre econ class, Joshua spared a glance at Jun’s unopened script. “Shouldn’t you be learning that?” He asked.

Jun didn’t look away from the phone in his lap. “I can’t do it here.”

“That means he’s going to open it for the first time at one in the morning, the day of his performance.” You chuckled, outlining the sketch of your guppy using Wonwoo’s pink gel pen.

Harshly, Jun’s hand smacked your knee under the table and you couldn’t help but laugh, garnering an over-the-shoulder glare from a student in the corner who’d been trying to focus on their colossal textbook. Wonwoo smiled at them apologetically while Joshua feigned as though he were typing something on his laptop. However, Jun’s hand didn’t leave your knee, and your laughter became an immediate drought, to which the sole thing you could feel was his palm creeping higher up your leg.

Attempting to be subtle, you turned your head slightly and looked at the boy with a bit of a warning expression, though Jun simply continued to scroll through his manga.

“I’m going to check the world history section,” Wonwoo announced, rising from the table, “anyone want to come with?”

Joshua pushed out his chair. “I’ll come just so I don’t have to stare at this shitty powerpoint.”

As soon as the boys walked beyond earshot, you pinched the edge of Jun’s ear. He finally tossed his phone onto the table, though he didn’t exactly appear compassionate, rather he was smirking, for he knew if you truly didn’t want his hand touching your leg then you would have bumped it away.

“You can’t do that.” Nonetheless, there surmounted a need to establish some insignificant boundary, one that neither of you were going to follow through. “Not when they’re so close.”

“But they didn’t see.” Jun replied, squeezing your inner thigh. “It shouldn’t matter.”

“It does. What if Joshua saw?” At that point, Wonwoo was fairly conditioned to your lingering fingertips, grazes and stares. He usually pretended not to notice them. However, Joshua was a risk.

Jun shrugged. “I don’t know. Don’t you worry too much? I always touch your leg.”

That was the problem. People trying to convince other people that their relationship was wholly platonic didn’t linger in such an intimate way. They didn’t creep fingertips up the other’s inner thigh beneath a tablecloth, or possess a gaze that traced the other’s lips like a delectable piece of candy when they spoke. There shouldn’t be any whispers pressed quickly against the other’s ear when no one else was looking, or the dire urge to climb into the other’s lap when their legs were wide open.

Both of you were afraid. Neither of you wanted to break the question that would thrust your relationship into the light. You kept waiting for the right time, but it always seemed one step ahead.

The movie theatre was nearly empty as the longwinded credit screen continued rolling, the last few congregations throwing their soda cups and empty packages into the garbage on their way out. Still, the floor of practically every row had been scattered with butter popcorn or melted m&m’s, shiny chocolate wrappers left crinkled in the recliners like the employees were supposed to take them home as gifts. Wonwoo put his hands on the back of his head, examining the disastrous rows.

You sensed he was feeling rather lucky about not being scheduled that night. Jun forced himself from the recliner and picked up his cup of fruit punch, jammed with way too many ice cubes.

If no one else was going to comment, you might as well. “That wasn’t the worst.”

“Agreed.” Wonwoo said, pushing up his glasses. “The murderer’s ploy was difficult to follow at times. I started getting confused when he left his car in the woods.”

“What?” Jun gawked. “That’s when you got confused? I didn’t even know what was happening after the first half hour.” His eyes gleamed in astonishment.

“Same.” You admitted. “I guess you’ll have to explain in the car.”

Reaching into the cupholder, you pulled out the package of strawberry tangs with nothing but a tiny amount of the powder-like sugar left inside.

“Thank you for picking up your trash,” Wonwoo sighed, taking the lead down the stairway while the credit music still played, “I’d hate to be working tonight.”

The wide corridor was completely vacant by the time you exited the theatre. Ever so slightly you could hear the galactic sound effects from the arcade machines. That buttery scent of popcorn seemed to waft no matter where you stood in the cinema. Wonwoo announced that he was going to check the concession counter to see who was on cash, but assured he would meet you and Jun at the back exit. Jun hurriedly downed his fruit punch in a large gulp before you emerged into the night.

You were confined to the small overhang by the doorway, for a hard rain was pelting against the concrete and turned the night air considerably cooler. Not one of you had checked the forecast beforehand, and you would undoubtedly get drenched straight through to the flesh in your thin long-sleeve.

“How are we going to make it to the car?” You groaned.

Pulling up his hood, Jun only laughed. “Now is a good time to be able to teleport.” He then stuck out his hand for a moment, the raindrops hitting his palm.

“Does it feel like bullets?”

“No. It feels kind of nice actually.” He remarked.

Curious, you rolled up your sleeve and extended your arm into the downpour. Jun was right, it felt satisfactory as each of the brisk droplets splashed your skin. However, you prematurely discovered the rain wasn’t so appealing when Jun suddenly shoved you from beneath the overhang.

“Hey— what the hell?!” You squealed upon the immediate repercussions, the cold water already leaking through your top while Junhui slapped his thigh, cackling.

Wanting to erase that luminous grin of his, you attempted wrestling the lanky boy into the weather, but no more than a few harmless drops skimmed his shoulder. Yet, with another brute shove, Jun stumbled, feeling the silver needles of rain pour down from the night sky and swirl at his dampening sneakers. He was laughing as he grabbed your wrist, pulling you hard against his chest before you were even cognisant that an immense wetness was soaking through your every article.

You wished it had been indignance drumming in your heart rather than affection, because it was taking every single fibre of your being not to kiss him. As the droplets beaded down his skin, he was like a springtime flower caught in the morning dew, and when he carded back the wet, black hairs plastered to his forehead, you thought it was possible to fall into him and never feel that concrete scrape your knees. Gently, his hand touched the small of your wet back, his breaths deepening.

He urged you in tighter as his tongue ran along his bottom lip, tasting the rain.

You were shivering, frigid, though your blood was far too warm to let yourself take note. Instead, you moved your head closer, closer, Jun’s cold palm cupping your cheek and your eyes fluttering shut and your soft mouths just brushing together— until Wonwoo appeared from inside.

Instantly, you two pushed away from each other. With his eyes widening, Wonwoo stuttered.

“I-I’m… I’m going to pretend as best I can that something weird didn’t almost happen.” He stated, swallowing thickly. “Just… Why did you two have to get soaked? You’re sitting in my car, y’know!”

At last, you felt that icy shiver trickle down your spine.

“S-Sorry.” You hummed, teeth chattering.

“I guess it’s fine,” Wonwoo sighed, “I have some towels under the passenger’s seat.”

Not long after returning to the apartment, Wonwoo gathered his laptop and slipped into his pyjamas. He proceeded to flop onto the couch to edit his research paper, though it didn’t take much for his eyelids to start weighing down, his dense paragraphs blurring together on the screen. More often than not you would take advantage of Wonwoo’s midnight crashes in the living room.

After exchanging your damp, terribly cold clothes for a warm t-shirt and sweatpants, you found yourself cozied beneath Jun’s comforter for the umpteenth night. The boy’s head rested against the crook of your neck, where his slow breaths were cool to your skin, though they occasionally became heavier when your fingertips stroked at his smooth hair. He was much like a kitten who loved a thorough scratch behind the ears. You swore that he purred whenever you rubbed the right spot.

Holding out his phone, he’d been finishing an episode of his drama before bed. You tucked some of the black locks behind his ear, noting how much it’d grown over the months. Then your gaze wandered over every detail that shaped his face, as though he were a textured oil painting.

His eyes were always glimmering, seemingly innocent and curious, yet you knew just how much that earthly shade could darken when he fell into his professions. When Jun acted on stage, his gaze lost its untainted nature. It moulded into the role of the sinister characters he preferred playing. When he danced in blazing lights, those eyes were sharp enough to consume, to cut, almost like a razorblade.

But then you studied his lips, his heart-shaped cupid’s bow, the small constellation of moles that dotted his skin like kisses from past soulmates. You thought back to the mist and the rain, his hand resting against the small of your back, how close you were to tasting the flavourful, fruity mix of his drink. In fact, you wondered why you didn’t just kiss Junhui whenever you wanted. What was stopping you, in that moment, from turning his head toward you so that your lips could press to his?

Suddenly, the boy laughed at his phone screen, to which you felt the brassy reverberation erupt in his chest, his eyes glinting and his mouth stretched into a box-like smile. You pulled a few strands of hair from his forehead as he seemed to be glowing, his cheeks rosy.

Jun mewled in surprise when your fingers threaded rather tight through his black locks, feeling you tilt his head up until his gaze was burning into yours.

You didn’t hesitate. Leaning forward, you kissed him sweet and slow.

Jun’s eyes fluttered as the pressure warmed his mouth, a small whine getting caught in his throat upon the gentle sting of your hand tugging at his tresses, his scalp tingling. His phone sunk into the bedsheets, and instead he was gripping your t-shirt, moving his head with yours as the kiss deepened. He tasted like mint, and his small whines were silky.

How on earth could you have ever shied from kissing him when it felt so relieving? Nothing else held any significance to you apart from making his pretty lips shine.

However, you needed to catch your breath. Releasing the firm grasp on his hair, you detached your mouth from his, your chest rising and falling in great lengths. The boy’s eyes couldn’t be more glazed, his lips shimmering, flushed garnet and slightly swollen. Neither of you uttered a word. The blankets fell from Jun’s shoulders as he straddled your waist eagerly. Again, his mouth slotted with yours, and your hands slid up his caramel thighs, imprinting his flesh with the curve of your fingernails.

If you kept quiet enough, then perhaps Wonwoo would remain asleep until morning.

Standing amongst the crowd in the cramped performance hall, it was inevitable that you would get bumped around like a tiny, flying pinball. After rutting into Wonwoo’s shoulder for the third time, he seemed dauntingly close to losing his indolence and snapping, though he realized it wasn’t your fault that others were pushing toward the front of the stage and bit his tongue.

It became tradition for Soonyoung and his students to rent the downtown performance hall and host a fundraiser. The event typically lasted a few hours, with a few short interludes where the dancers would retreat backstage to catch their breath. Being Jun’s roommate, you and Wonwoo were always granted access into the small dressing room, and though you never admitted it, you loved experiencing that small flash of pride whenever the moonstruck audience watched you slip away.

The next interlude was closing in. Despite the different dancers on stage, you really, truthfully, only watched Jun. Each time he captured the centre position, you couldn’t help but cup your hands around your mouth, being one of the first to cheer overtop the deafening music as he moved so fluidly, with poise. He was a completely different person when he performed. Somehow, his tender-hearted nature would peel back and he’d emerge a domineering beacon.

As soon as the stage ended, an uproar rippled from the audience and resonated deep in your ears, to which you couldn’t help but slightly bury your head against Wonwoo’s shoulder to muffle the cacophony. Nonetheless, you were clapping, smiling, staring fondly as Jun grabbed his collar and fluffed it out, welcoming a slight gust of humid air. His skin was dewy with sweat, and yet he glowed beautifully, even when he was breathing so heavily through his nose.

Soonyoung was speaking into his microphone, but you missed half his speech, and before you knew it you were being dragged by Wonwoo through the crowd toward the backstage entrance. The room was at least big enough to accommodate the dancers. Jun was in the corner, gulping down his water.

“Only three more songs,” Wonwoo smiled, “you guys really stepped the level up this year.”

It took a moment before Jun replied, the column of his neck glittering as he completely crushed the plastic bottle in his hands.

“Yeah,” he burst out, “I’m freaking dying.”

“It’s for a good cause at least.” Wonwoo reasoned, ignoring how you stepped on his foot.

After Jun rolled his eyes, he was staring at you.

The air grew much too thick, and you had to clear your throat. “S-Seriously, you’ve improved so much. I can’t believe it.”

“Thanks,” Jun replied, scratching his nape, “it’s nothing special, really.”

“Uh? Nothing special?” Wonwoo quirked an eyebrow. “Didn’t Soonyoung say you’re one of the best in the class?”

When Jun innocently flitted his gaze toward a distant spot and pressed his lips together, Wonwoo merely huffed, announcing he was going to the lobby for a drink of water. You watched him wind between the busy dancers, either wiping down their sweat or fanning themselves, until he disappeared out the door. When you faced Jun again, you looped your fingers through the satin collar of his stage outfit and kissed him quickly, knowing everyone was too occupied to take note.

He squeaked, “what happened to being careful?”

“This is your fault.” You eagerly pinned it on him. “Try being less hot.”

“That’s horrible advice. And also not possible. Which makes it worse than horrible.”

You weren’t sure whether or not you wanted to feel his mouth again or whack the side of his head with his deflated water bottle. Opting for latter, you stole another kiss, though you tensed in surprise when Jun wrapped his arm around your waist to secure your body firm against his. Hastily, you pushed at his toned stomach, your heart drilling manically as you looked over your shoulder toward the dancers. It didn’t appear as though anyone had seen and you breathed out in relief.

Suddenly, Soonyoung poked his head through the doorway.

“Ten minutes!” He shouted before disappearing.

Jun was staring at you with the most ingenious twinkle.

“That was your fault.” He purred, tapping your thigh with his water bottle. “Try being less hot.”

You did feel a small sliver of guilt. After all, Wonwoo had been waiting back at the apartment for approximately an hour, twiddling his thumbs, wondering why you and Jun required so much goddamn time just to buy some hot fudge sundaes. The molten taste of the chocolate, the vanilla ice cream, cold and sweet, was completely stolen from your lips by the boy whose lap you were occupying. Wonwoo’s sundae sat on the dashboard, dripping slowly beneath the evening sunlight.

And yet, that infinitesimal sliver was plucked straight out when Jun latched onto a sensitive patch of your neck, softly digging in his teeth and swirling his tongue. Your fingers sheathed through the black hair and pulled up at the roots, knowing how much pleasure he took from the dull sting. Button by button, Jun started to simultaneously open your shirt, to which you questioned if this was really happening, if you were really going to sort of out the complications of intercourse in his car.

The device abandoned in the passenger’s seat buzzed. You already knew the name to the text. As Jun kissed his way down to your collarbone, licking and suckling, you reached for your phone, feeling it buzz again with another impatient text. The guilt from earlier began to resurface.

[ wonwoo | 7:49pm ] This is suspicious now. WHERE ARE YOU? >:(

[ wonwoo | 7:49pm ] Actually screw that. WHERE IS MY HOT FUDGE SUNDAE?

The screen blipped with yet another message.

[ wonwoo | 7:49pm ] I know you’re reading these… Answer me or I won’t feed Princess Pebble!!

“J-Jun,” you piped up, hearing his low, husky mumble while he continued to mark your collarbone, “I think we need to go home now.”

The boy splayed a few more open-mouthed kisses against the skin before peeking up at you, his eyes wide and glimmering, lips flushed a deep magenta. With half the buttons of your shirt hanging open and your heart blazing, you had to snip the venereal longing in its bud.

“What’s wrong?” Jun hummed, pushing his fingers through the loops on your jeans. “Who’s texting?”

“Wonwoo. He’s been waiting for almost an hour, and his sundae is gonna be a puddle at this rate.”

He blinked a bit cluelessly, though still in musing. “There’s no way to be quick about this, is there?”

Rebuttoning your shirt, you shook your head and laughed. “Let’s wait before we ruin the car. I’m sure there’ll be a better time in the future.”

Jun nodded in agreement and relaxed back into the seat, a ray of sunshine that bled golden slanting through the windshield. Somehow, Wonwoo’s sundae wasn’t a complete pool sitting in the plastic cup, but that didn’t negate the fact he was still going to start his theory on responsibility and trust the moment you stepped onto the welcome mat. As you finished clasping the last buttons, something had caught Jun’s eye out the window, for he immediately panicked and tightly gripped your waist.

“Oh my god, g-get off my lap,” he grunted, to which your head bumped against the ceiling during the hurried shuffle and your knee whacked the gearstick.

“Ow! Okay, I’m going! Jeez, could you not give me a warning?”

“No,” Jun remarked, looking quickly to the rear-view mirror to straighten out his hair, “it’s Jeonghan and Soonyoung. They just came out of the store.”

When you glanced out Jun’s window, you noted the duo making their way across the parking lot, some plastic bags filled with groceries hanging from Jeonghan’s hand while Soonyoung appeared to be texting someone. To both your dismay, Soonyoung immediately recognized Jun’s car. You watched as the blonde bumped Jeonghan’s shoulder, how they took a slight detour on their way over.

“We have to talk to them?” You whined. “Are you kidding? Lock your window.”

Jun’s brow pinched together. “How is that going to help? They already saw us so just relax.”

“You’re telling me to relax? You practically threw me off your la—”

“Shht,” Jun snapped as the two boys drew nearer, “just shhhhht okay?” And with an incredibly large gulp, he plastered a happy-go-lucky smile to his mouth and let the window slide open.

“Jun?” Soonyoung called, leaning down slightly to peer inside the vehicle. “What’re you doing out here, huh? Back from shoplifting?”

Jeonghan bent down too, grinning snidely. “You looked a little frazzled or something.”

“Me?” Jun pointed at himself. “No, I’m fine. Just – we have to leave. Wonwoo is waiting.”

“Wonwoo?” Jeonghan seemed excited. “I haven’t seen him in a while. Hey, tell him I’m still appreciative for writing my World History paper on the Persian Empire.”

You knew it was best to stay quiet, but you couldn’t help your slight choke. Wonwoo had come home one day saying that one of his classmates offered him seventy-five bucks if he’d write their history paper. He wasn’t going to oblige originally, but cracked after listening to his classmate type out their introduction in the library, that it was just so bad Wonwoo felt piteous and decided to pitch in.

Gaping at Jeonghan, you exclaimed, “that was you?”

“Yeah. I mean, I still dropped that class. And Wonwoo definitely thinks I’m a dumbass. But I didn’t have to do a spot of work, and now I’m getting smooth nineties in English. You just have to make up some shit and do a couple fancy indents and you’re set.”

Jeonghan paused, then leaned in a little further to look you up and down. “Y’know, I’ve never seen you before. How easily do you give out your numbe—”

“We really have to go,” Jun interrupted, already clicking the button to roll up the window, “see you at practice, Soonyoung. Bye Jeonghan!”

The two boys didn’t really have any other option apart from stepping back, allowing Jun to exit the parking space and turn onto the road. Not that it would help much, you turned on the air conditioning until it felt like the wind was pure ice, hoping that you’d be able to preserve Wonwoo’s melting fudge sundae. You made sure to text him on your whereabouts, that you were heading home, and churned up a white lie about how you ran into Jun’s friends who held a persistent conversation.

It wasn’t entirely false. And yet, Wonwoo still managed to see through it.

[ wonwoo | 7:54 pm ]: Just say you were making out.

[ wonwoo | 7:54 pm ]: Btw, I fed Princess Pebble.

[ wonwoo | 7:54 pm ]: I’m not a sinner. Unlike you guys.

Later that evening, after delivering Wonwoo his melted cup of chocolate ice cream, after Jun quickly threw some extra clothes into his backpack and ran to his late-night dance practice, you were standing at the fish tank with some new plants you bought for your guppy. As the bright lights of the tank reflected across your face, there was a strange feeling inside you. It seemed like turbulence, confusion, your heart experiencing one sentiment but your brain thinking another.

You hadn’t realized you were absently standing there until Wonwoo came into the dark living room, holding a crumpled tube of toothpaste and his toothbrush. Watching the pink fish swim in between her new seaweed arrangement, he asked you if there was an extra tube stored in your bedroom.

“Don’t think so. Text Jun and ask him to stop at the store when his practice ends.”

“I’ll do that…” Wonwoo sighed. “Hey, you know I already fed Princess Pebble?”

He accompanied you at the tank. For some reason, you refused to look at Wonwoo. You felt unusually vulnerable, like a fragile shell that could be cracked open even by the gentlest hands, and the more you thought into your emotions, the harder your heart started pounding.

“I-I know,” you smiled weakly, “but I got her some new plants today. I just put them in.”

Wonwoo could always tell when something was off-kilter. You almost hated how sharp his senses were, that he was able to detect with such accuracy how you were being eaten up inside. Softly, he touched your shoulder, urged you to turn toward him so he could see the honest colour in your eyes.

“What’s wrong?” He frowned, pushing up the bridge of his glasses.

You felt terrified, but there was no sense in pretending.

“How do I tell Jun that I’m in love with him? That I don’t want us to be a secret anymore?”

It was a weighted question, and you knew that. But it was also the truth. As much as it could be invigorating to maintain a secret relationship, you were beginning to feel the brittle side effects that came with keeping such love behind closed doors. You didn’t want Jun to push you from his lap just because his friends might’ve seen you, nor did you want to keep an eye out for whether or not you should knock his hand off your thigh in public. The secrecy had been fun, but it wasn’t enough.

Scratching the blue collar of his shirt, Wonwoo appeared uncertain.

“I’m not sure, honestly. I just think you shouldn’t repress this. You need to be upfront.”

“How?” It sounded like a desperate plead. “I don’t know how, Wonwoo.”

“Stop overthinking it,” the boy advised, grabbing onto your shoulders and giving your frame a small, grounding shake, “you know Jun. You know he isn’t a rash person. You know if you tell him he’ll hear every word of it. It doesn’t take a genius to see you’re all he thinks about.”

Wonwoo brushed at the side of your cheek with his thumb. “Don’t hurt yourself like this, okay? The next time you’re alone, just say how you feel. I promise it won’t be as bad as you’re hypothesizing.”

You inhaled a deep breath and nodded. Overthinking was a poison to you. It shouldn’t be that difficult to be honest, especially when you knew how attentive Jun was, the manner in which he always adapted himself to be of a comforting presence.

“Okay,” you attempted to draw together some confidence, “I’ll do that.”

“Good.” The boy grinned, still fiddling with his empty tube of toothpaste. “It really doesn’t bother me that you guys run around together. Just… please… never do anything weird in my bed.”

The next time you were alone with Jun, it was all but a desirable circumstance. Once you came home from work and heated up some leftover dinner in the microwave, you decided to feed Princess Pebble, though your jaw unhinged as you noticed something a little unorthodox about her tank: a pink blotch floating against the surface of the water. Immediately, the tears welted hot and stinging against your eyes. You had to use the small net to scoop your guppy out from the water.

Remarkably, Princess Pebble had lived a long life for a fish. You remembered walking with Jun to the pet store one summer afternoon, after you two finished your last day of eleventh grade and had just escaped a brutal chemistry exam. Rather than studying beforehand, you spent ample time researching different types of fish, and would often send Jun pictures asking him to choose which one he thought was cutest. Yet, at the end of it all, you chose a guppy with the prettiest pink scales.

“Don’t most people want a puppy? A kitten? And you choose a boring fish.”

Jun had teased, sounding awkward and a bit lisped through his braces.

Somehow, Princess Pebble had managed to live a five-year lifespan. Wonwoo told you most guppies live for two years, three years if the owner takes good care. Sitting at the kitchen table, you placed her body onto a piece of paper towel, the thick tears dripping down your cheeks while your sinuses grew wet and congested. You didn’t know if it was petulant to be your age, crying over a pet fish. In fact, you didn’t even possess the heart to rise from the table and discard her body.

It wasn’t much longer until Jun returned home after his theatre class, to which you heard his key rattling in the lock. Wonwoo was scheduled for a shift at the cinema, most likely handing out overpriced popcorn and chocolate and having to reject every person who asked for his number.

“Hey,” he called, shouldering off his backpack, “Wonwoo texted me. That weird thriller we were looking at is playing next week. We should—,”

Jun paused the moment he heard your runny sniffling. He didn’t realize that your fish was sitting on the paper towel until he took a few steps closer. You felt embarrassed Jun had to see you like this. If you were crying, it had always been over something with a little more gravity, like the time you were distraught about flunking your laboratory practical, and Wonwoo couldn’t persuade you to open your bedroom door no matter how frequently he stood outside, pleading.

Plucking at the collar of your shirt, you used the fabric to clear away the tears. Without a word, Jun grabbed another chair from the dining table and pulled it next to you, scooting in close. As soon as you felt his arm drape around your shoulders, it was like someone had pulled the plug on a bathtub filled with water, to which you pressed your face against his neck and sobbed harder.

“I’m so sorry.” Jun whispered, hugging you tight to his comfortable chest. “It’s okay to be upset. I know how much she meant to you.”

He drew soothing strokes down the back of your head, and he sat with you until those wet pearls ran dry with salt. You knew it wasn’t wise to keep her body out in the air, that you would have to discard her somehow, yet the thought of having to flush her away seemed too cruel. Jun wiped the soft glisten from your cheeks with his sleeve, his fingers then tracing up and down the side of your face.

“I-I don’t want to flush her.” You blubbered.

The boy shook his head. “We won’t do that. We’ll find a good way to handle it.” His thumb brushed tenderly below the fragile skin of your eye for a moment, and he seemed to be in musing.

“Wait here.” He announced, suddenly running into his bedroom.

You could hear Jun shuffling through his closet, moving around clothing hangers and pushing aside boxes still filled with some of his old belongings from homelife in Shenzhen. When he remerged into the living room, he was holding a particular tissue box, one that you hadn’t seen since twelfth grade biology. You, Jun, and Wonwoo had painted and decorated the box as part of an optional project, to see if you could grow any plants from the packets of radish and tomato seeds your teacher had.

Nothing ever grew. Wonwoo claimed there had been some green sprouts when it was his turn to look after the makeshift garden, but that his cat snuck into his room and ate them all. Jun always kept a multitude of random things that dated back to your adolescence. As awkward and bumpy as those times were, seeing the tissue box reminded you that there had been precious moments too.

“Why do you still have that?” You laughed, even if your chest was aching.

“Because that was the first time us three did something together.” Jun said, returning to his seat beside you. “It was one of the first memories I made after moving away from home.”

You fondly looked at Jun while pulling the tissue box toward you, slathered in old, chipping acrylic paint and obnoxious, starry glitter.

Licking the dry salt off your lips, you smiled. “Princess Pebble would love this.”

“It can be her shrine. When Wonwoo comes home, we can find a good place to bury it.” Jun explained. “I know I called her boring five years ago, but I didn’t mean it. I loved her too.”

In the pensive silence, you thought back to your conversation with Wonwoo, recalling his firm grip on your shoulders as he reiterated the importance of freeing your heart, of not bogging yourself down with too many untold truths. Then, you glanced at Jun. You thought about that fluttering feeling when you kissed him, when you ran your fingers through his hair, listening to his deep-chested laughter whenever he gleefully buckled over into your lap after telling one of his hit-or-miss jokes.

The boy tensed slightly as you pulled him into a hug, though he quickly came to ease and warmth. You thanked him, because it just felt like the right thing to do for his compassion.

And then you told him something else.

“I love you.”

Without missing a heartbeat, he murmured against your hair, “I love you too.”

It was late, unreasonably late, the past-midnight late where the entire world falls still like an unperturbed pond. Downtown was completely hushed. Every so often the wind picked up, though it inevitably withered away in between the buildings and emerged a pitiful whistle onto the street. And yet, despite the fact you should be tucked in bed while the moon protected the silence in her silver hands, you were pushing outside the convenience shop with Jun close behind.

He took the end of a straw into his mouth and slurped at the sweet, cherry-flavoured slushie that was beginning to empty. Immediately, he crinkled his forehead and his face contorted.

“How many times have I said not to do that?” You laughed as he passed you the slippery cup.

“I don’t know. Three?” Jun replied with a grimace. “I can really feel it. Wait, I need a moment.”

You stopped next to the traffic post at the end of the street. Jun grabbed at his hair and squeezed like it was some miraculous remedy for curing a brain freeze. Directing the straw into your mouth, you sucked up the cherry syrup and crushed ice until you felt the distant ache thrum inside your head.

“Okay…” Jun concluded, brushing the long, black fringe from his eyes, “I’m good now.”

Thrusting the drink back into his hands, you couldn’t help but huff: “you’re such a baby.”

As though to prove your point, Jun started whining. “My head is so, so cold. It’s freezing.”

“So put this up or something.” You teased, reaching around the back of his neck to pull the boy’s hood over his head. Giggling slightly, you grinned at him as he shot you a questionable glance.

The streets remained quiet, and the sky was remarkably clear, no more than a few ragged and thin clouds drifting over the stars. The last time you had been on this corner, you were licking the strawberry sugar off your fingertips while Jun crumpled his last packet of popping candy. You remembered tracing the rose tint that warmed his lips, each fibre in your muscle twitching because you just wanted to wrap a hand through his locks and kiss him like he was your last breath.

You didn’t understand how you could love one person so much. Why love often fused itself into your bloodstream more than functionality. Your heart knew how to beat, yet it stumbled whenever you gazed at him. Your lungs knew how to filter the air, yet they closed up whenever you caught his eye. Your tongue knew how to articulate, yet it tied itself in a knot the moment he’d touch you.

“Hey,” you mumbled, patting his arm, “can I ask you something?”

Jun looked away from the stars, sipping at his drink again. He nodded.

The moon probably wanted to crush your heart in her hands for how loudly it was thumping.

“What if I told you that I want people to know we’re together? What would you say?”

Despite your anxiousness, you weren’t as afraid as you anticipated. Maybe it was because Jun didn’t immediately sour or attempt to disparage your sentiments. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking as he blinked at you, but it didn’t matter. When it was most important, Jun picked his words carefully.

“I’d tell you that I want the same thing,” he admitted, his tone deepening and the amber in his cheeks sparked with pink, “that I want people to know how I feel about you… That I’ve always been in love with you.”

You smiled wide, like a kid who just got their braces off. Unable to contain such a rapturous energy, you stepped in close to Jun and held onto his shoulders, dotting the corners of his mouth with small kisses before you pressed your lips against his. You felt him smirk, though it seemed too devious. Jun had suddenly wrapped his arms around your lower back, pushing you in chest-to-chest. You melted as he kissed you, your fingertips ghosting along the soft hairs at his nape, the moonlight on your skin.

When you arrived back at the apartment, you could hear a few of Wonwoo’s gentle snores echo from behind the bedroom door. Just before you slipped away into your own room, Jun left a goodnight kiss to the top of your head, his hand thoughtfully squeezing your hip.

“I-Isn’t it a little late for that?” Jun stumbled through his laughter. “Why do you need me?”

You finally knew what you should have said.

“Because I love you.”

✧✎ a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY SWEET PRINCE!! never would i have imagined that someone who’s on the opposite side of the globe could mean so much to me ;_; mr. moon has been such a healing presence, and it’s bc of him that i have found so much happiness these past five years! whenever i see him smiling and laughing and have good ol times just being himself, all my worrisome thoughts somehow fade away and i feel only joy!!

anyways, i don’t want to ramble for too long (i could really fill a page with my cloying sentiments r.i.p) but i hope this was a wholesome fic!! the stars aligned and for once i was able to write a fic for a member’s birthday :_)

#svt fanfic #jun scenarios #seventeen scenarios #jun fic #seventeen fics #seventeen imagines #jun imagine #jun x reader #svt x reader #wen junhui #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #junhui scenarios #jun fluff #junhui fic

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ihearthes · 3 years

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Quarantine Christmas Part 1

Author: @ihearthes Pairing: Harry x y/n Rating: Fluff/Smut (Smut in Part 2) Word Count: 2826 (Part 1) Fiction Chalenge via @caitlin‘s fiction party via @sweetcreatureinthedark

December 23, 2020

My head spins as I haul my suitcase from the trunk, using two hands due to the heft of the dirty clothes inside. Setting it on the ground, I yank on the handle before grappling with the two shopping bags filled with presents, reaching back for the decorated Christmas tin that is filled with homemade cookies, fudge, and other delicacies baked by my colleagues at Apple Music.

Wrestling with my hands full, I close the trunk with an elbow, shivering in the chilly LA air. At the front door, I want to cry. Dammit. I could clearly remember that when Glenne had given me the code for the front door and the alarm, I placed them in my phone under her contact information.

“FUCK!” The primal scream is released from my lungs, likely scaring the neighbors if any of them are outside enjoying Christmas lights or having family celebrations on this Christmas Eve Eve. Balancing the tin of cookies on top of the suitcase, I set down the shopping bags to reach for my phone. My purse slips off my shoulder, knocking the container of sweets, and in the scramble to rescue them, I nearly fall head over heels into the bushes.

It isn’t until I punch in the numbers and drag my personal effects inside that it occurs to me that the alarm isn’t armed. Had Glenne and Jeffrey forgotten to punch in the code before they left for Palm Springs? Deciding I don’t care, I leave everything by the door as I drag my suitcase to the main floor laundry room, dumping everything in without regard to color or type of clothing. Since we’ve been working remotely the majority of the time for the last fucking nine months, “dressing up” encompasses blue jeans and the occasional blouse, but most of my clothing is sweatpants and t-shirts. Deciding washing the blue jeans and blouses with the sweatpants and t-shirts is the worst idea ever, I fish those out before pouring laundry detergent over the remaining garments and starting the washer.

Glancing down at the clothing currently on my body, it seems completely reasonable to drop them into the washer too. Stripping the t-shirt from my body, I toss it into the swirling water before adding my bra, socks, and leggings to the murky mix. Wearing only panties in the cool house makes my nipples bead.

Ha! I’m sure my nips are happy to get any action after almost a year with no dating of any sort because of the fucking pandemic. Which reminds me that I’ve forgotten my vibrator at home. Shit. Of all the things I don’t mind borrowing from Glenne, I do have a line I won’t cross.

Placing the tin of Christmas yummies on the kitchen counter, I grasp the handles of the two bags of gifts. It might be silly to put them under the tree since I’m the only one in the house, but it will make me feel better. More like I’m at home with my family in Indiana. Less like I’m stuck in quarantine in an empty house for my favorite holiday. Sniffling, I swipe at my nose with the back of my hand as I pad down the two steps into the living room to the tree.

Kneeling at the fake tree, I reach for the switch to turn on the lights. As the colors begin blinking, I carefully withdraw each present, reading the tag before gently placing the gift under the tree. Even my brother had sent a present through the mail which must mean he misses me his year. Right now, we should be challenging each other to the most ridiculous games to see who is the best. Inevitably, he would win some while I beat him at others until eventually we declare a tie. My mother would chastise us both with a grin on her face, implicitly encouraging us to continue our “reindeer games” as my father called them.

From behind me, I hear a shuffling sound. Hadn’t they taken Myles with them? No matter. I could use the company a dog would provide.

“Santa, you’ve changed!” a soft voice exclaims, and I jump, twisting around to find another human wearing sweatpants and a hoodie.

“It’s you!” Both voices exclaim simultaneously. “What the fuck are you doing here?” We both pause, “Stop saying what I’m saying!”

Out of breath, I stare at him. The Harry Styles. Fuck.

His eyes roam over my body, and it finally dawns on me that I’m wearing nothing but my Victoria’s Secret lace panties. Shit.

Pacing measuredly to the couch without openly cringing, I grasp a wool throw and wrap it around my chest regally like I’ve just exited the pool at some exotic locale near the equator. My shoulders straighten, and I face him openly.

“Are you joining Glenne and Jeffrey in Palm Springs?” My back is a board, and my tone is barely restrained.

“Nope.” His nonchalance combined with his truncated answer pisses me off, per usual.

“So you’re flying home, waiting here for your flight tonight?” The hopeful tone is obvious to me and probably to him as well.

“No.” Those green eyes of his rake over my nearly-naked body, and I shiver. From the cold of course. Jesus. Get your heads out of the gutter!

“Watering the plants prior to returning to the Soho?”

“Uh uh.”

Delayed dread begins to fill my stomach. “You mean --” I clear my throat -- “you’re staying here?”

“Yep.”

“Shit.” Running my hand through my hair, I ponder the impact and my next steps.

“You?” He asks politely, even though I know he doesn’t feel solicitude at this moment.

“Glenne told me I could stay here for a few days. I made arrangements for my place to be fumigated while I was in Indiana for Christmas.”

His raised eyebrow mocks me.

“I’m not going, though. Okay?”

“Why not?”

“Seriously? Where the fuck have you been, Styles? In case you didn’t know, there’s a global fucking pandemic, and all of Los Angeles is locked down. So no -- I am not getting on a plane with a bunch of potentially infected and contagious --” Emotion overwhelms me, and I have to stop and catch my breath. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I turn away from him so he can’t see the tears that form in my eyes.

“Whatever, Smith.”

“My name --” I draw myself up and gather my anger around me like a cloak -- “is not Smith.”

“Yeah, right. Which bedroom are you planning to sleep in?”

“Surely you’re not suggesting we both stay here?” Appalled, I stare at him with my mouth open. “I’ll get a hotel room.” When I realize my wardrobe is in the washing machine, I softly say, “As soon as my clothes are dry.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t be ridiculous, Smith. We’ll share the space. It’s only a couple of days.”

“Excuse me!?” Anger wells up. “Only the most important days in the entire year!” Superiority makes me stand up fully to him. “Besides, I’ve been quarantining for months. No way do I want to share germs with you!”

“Oh please! As if you’ve got a monopoly on quarantining! I’m perfectly safe. We get tested every morning before we film. When was the last time you were tested?”

“Two days ago!” She’s at her boiling point. “Look, if we're both staying here together, then we’re just going to have to avoid each other. It’s a big house. We can do that.”

“Maybe once you put some clothes on,” Harry comments, smirking in that way he has where the left side of his mouth tilts up.

Mortified, I glance down at myself. Briefly I consider scurrying for Glenne’s closet, but I pause. Why should I rush away? Because he’s male? Because he was here first? Because he’s sexy as fuck and my panties can’t take anymore?

“Fine,” I respond as I brush past him like the Queen of England. “I’ll find something to wear, and then we can hash out the details.”

“Great plan. I’m ordering something for dinner.”

My stomach growls, and I suddenly feel an irrational hatred for that part of my body. How I long to state that I’ve already eaten or that I plan to cook something! But alas, I’ve brought no food with me, and I’ve no clue what’s in the kitchen. If Glenne and Jeffrey even left anything.

“Does that mean you’d like some too?” He gloats, and as much as I would like to smack the grin off his face, I’ve not eaten since a quick bite for breakfast hours before.

Knowing I’m going to have to grovel, I face him. “I’m capable of ordering for myself.”

“Yes, but that’s not necessarily good for the environment, is it? Sending two drivers to the same address from different restaurants?” Pausing, he appears to swallow whatever snarky comment was forthcoming. “Can we agree on this one small thing? I’m thinking poke.”

Shit. Fuck. Goddammit. That’s exactly what I would have ordered. Fuck.

Casually, I shrug. “Yeah, whatever. I can choke down some poke.” As I saunter away, tucking the ends of the makeshift shroud under my armpits, I call back to him, “Spicy please.”

Quickly I make my way to Glenne’s closet, surveying the items there. Ripping down a pair of joggers and a Full Stop Management hoodie, I drop the covering I’ve been wearing and rapidly draw the clothes over my naked body. Nothing I can do about not having a bra, but the hoodie is roomy so I worry less.

In the bathroom, I run my fingers through my hair, combing out the curls as best I can in this environment. In no way do I want it to appear that I’m trying to look amazing for Harry. Biting my lip, I admit to myself that the opposite is true. I absolutely want him to fall at my feet.

Which isn’t going to happen, I remind myself. Give up the ghost of a fantasy.

Making eye contact in the mirror, I provide a pep talk for myself. “Listen,” I remind my reflection, “this is just one more fucked up situation in 2020. You’ve gotten through worse. It’s truly a giant house, so there’s no reason -- wait. Why is he staying here anyway?” For whatever reason, I had allowed him to dodge that incredibly simple question.

Tucking my hands into the hoodie’s front pocket, I amble to the kitchen where Harry is just disconnecting his phone.

“Food will be here in 45 minutes,” he promises.

“Why are you staying here again? I missed your answer earlier,” I prompt.

I’m confident I see a flash of embarrassment crossing his face as he lowers his head. “Wine?” He asks, gesturing towards the extensive rack of reds and then the chiller of whites.

Unsure as to whether I should allow the diversion or press, I examine him. His eyes look tired and sad. His clothes, while comfortable, aren’t upbeat. Nor is his current demeanor. Is he okay?

Planting his hands in his hoodie in an unconscious mimic of my pose, he glances at me before his eyes stray to the side, examining the marble countertop. That look tells me more than I need to know, and my empath side emerges as I toss him a life preserver.

“With poke? I think perhaps a Reisling.”

He nods, bending to look through the wines in the cooler before he extracts one, holding it up for me to inspect the label. My eyes start to widen at the vineyard, assuming the extravagant cost, but I calm my features. “Perf!” I declare.

Grasping the wine opener from a nearby drawer, Harry removes the cork as I snatch two wine glasses from the cabinet and place them near him. Carefully comparing the amount in each glass, he pours enough before recorking the bottle. Taking my glass, I move into the living room where I can view the tree. It’s Christmas Eve Eve after all, and I refuse to be deterred from watching the lights twinkle and celebrating the season.

Harry apparently has a similar idea as he fiddles with the sound system before a crackle of ‘Jingle Bell Drunk’ by RaeLynn starts playing which causes me to giggle.

I settle on one side of the sofa, and Harry plants himself on the other side. Separately, we each take a sip of the riesling. My tongue does a happy dance at the flavor on my tongue. “This sweetness will cut the spicy quite well. Excellent choice.”

“You made the selection,” Harry reminds me, and I cringe.

“Oh. Yeah.”

Silence descends as the song proclaims “I’ve been naughty. I’ve been nice.”

“If there was ever a year for this song, this is it.” I announce into the quiet.

“Yeah. It’s been quite the year.”

Sharply, I glance at him. Perhaps I had missed something? “Excuse me? You’ve had one hell of a year, Styles. Grammy nominations aside, there were how many music videos released during this global disaster? Plus a movie!”

“Agreed.” He’s quiet, his jaw clenched, and suddenly his words burst forth as though a gate at a dam has been opened. “But no tour. And almost no family time.”

Wait. Was this superstar feeling some of my emotions? He’d had a stellar year in anyone’s estimation. Maybe I could be more sympathetic.

“Yeah. I’m sorry about tour. I had tickets to Vegas and one of the LA shows.”

His head swivels to me more swiftly than an owl focusing on prey. “You had tickets?”

“HAVE.” I swallow. “Thanks for not canceling by the way. I cannot imagine the bloodbath for getting tickets in the future. You’ve become the ‘it celebrity’.”

A blush is followed by a sheepish smile. “You can always get tickets, Smith. Just ask.”

“I don’t do that.” My voice is filled with the prickles that I feel at his words.

“Do what?”

“Use my privilege to get tickets to shows.”

“Oh. I…” His words trailed off.

Suddenly, I feel less uncomfortable around him. Reaching out, I shove at his shoulder. “You’re a giant star, and you have a ton of fans who want to see you. Me? I’m just happy to be a member of the audience.”

“Really?” Incredulous is what I sense in that one word. “Why?”

“Seriously?” I’m appalled. “Do you not know what an amazing entertainer you are, Styles? Fuck. If I hadn’t been able to see your Fine Line show at the Forum last December, I probably would have cried. You know exactly what your audience wants, and you deliver it. Consistently.”

“But --”

“Hush. Don’t you dare negate your talent!” Taking another sip of wine, I reveal unabashedly, “Maybe it’s the wine talking, but I really enjoy your shows.”

“Smith?” He inquires, and my hand stalls with my wine glass halfway to my mouth.

“Yeah?”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you like my shows?”

Stalling, I run a finger through my hair and empty my wine glass before holding it out to him. “More please?”

He rises, but I can read his reluctance. Within moments, Harry is back at my side, handing me a second glass of the riesling. I can’t help but notice that he’s topped his own off too.

“Answer the question, Smith.”

“My name isn’t Smith. In fact, there’s not a single part of my name that’s related to Smith. Why do you call me that?”

“Tell me why you like my shows, and I’ll reveal the meaning behind the nickname.”

My head feels fuzzy from the wine and the headiness of being near Harry, and I watch the lights flashing on the tree for a few minutes while Meghan Patrick belts out her version of ‘I’ll Be Home for Christmas’ over the sound system.

“You make your fans feel like they matter.”

“How?” His question comes rapidly, and I have to gather my thoughts.

“You...talk to them. Listen to them. Watch them. Appreciate them. It’s rare, Harry. I mean, I’m in this business too, you know. Not every artist does what you do.”

“False.”

“I’m fucking serious, you asshole.” I gulp down more of the wine. “You make your audience feel like they’re your closest friends. I wish more artists did that. Specifically the ones I represent.”

“Oh.” His single utterance is enough, and we sit in pure tranquility for several minutes as the lights blink and Ava Max sings “Christmas Without You”.

“Wanna watch the quintessential holiday movie?” I inquire, looking at him.

“Which is?”

“Die Hard, of course,” is my response. “What were you thinking?”

“It’s a Wonderful Life.”

“Nope. It’s pretty good. In the top five for sure.”

“Wait. What are your top five?”

“Oh, that’s easy. ‘Die Hard’, ‘Home Alone’, ‘A Christmas Story’, ‘The Santa Clause’, and ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’.

“You’re serious?”

“Deadly?” I giggle at the joke since ‘Die Hard’ is full of death.

“Fine. But we watch ‘Wonderful Life’ afterwards.”

“Deal.”

Part 2

#my writing #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #caitlin's fic challenge #part1 #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #original writing

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kuuderekweenfics · 3 years

Text

Only Temporary

I really wanted to make Keigo nasty. Like, a real debaucherous fiend who could hardly give a hoot about you (pun intended). Instead he came out of my head ever the gentlemen and oh, so soft.

Like a roll of double-ply toilet paper. (Kidding!)

But I’m not mad about it.

Also, reader, in this fic, you’re a bit cold at the beginning. So if you can’t imagine yourself being stand-offish, this mayyyy not be for you. For those of you who read my first piece, I added a lil Easter egg in there.

Hawks x Female Reader

Explicit Warning: Next stop, Orgasmville (18+)

1...

2...

1...

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1...

2...

1...

2...

1...

“baby, oh fuck...I’m gonna cum...”

An eye roll begins to form and you close your eyes to avoid confrontation. Not that he’s paying attention to anything other than his current orgasm anyway. Eyes clutched and nostrils flared. He looks constipated, you think. You choke down the impending laughter but can’t help the jerk your body makes, so you blanket it with a gaudy, dramatic moan to disguise your exposed apathy.

He’s busy peeling off the condom as you turn over and reach for your phone, dragging a finger under your eye to wipe away any mascara that may flaked during the two minutes of intercourse.

“Did I blow your mind?” He beckons for encouragement like a puppy beckons for attention.

You decide to throw him a bone. A lazy smile flickers in place. “Extraordinary.”

Puppy wags his tail.

You leave his apartment 20 minutes later, after a quick rinse off and against his wishes, feigning a prior engagement that requires the upmost promptness. As you walk along the bustling city sidewalk, neon lights and advertisements flashing cinematic beauty queens, you remind yourself that this, that he, is only temporary.

You met him at an overpriced cafe. You didn’t even remember his damn name. He was flustered, you could immediately tell by his stumbling speech. But you hadn’t been laid in over a year and needed to feel something other than your fingers or the purple silicone vibrator you kept tucked away in your nightstand drawer. Even if he was staler than the cup of coffee you purposely left behind.

But all you ended up doing was counting the seconds between thrusts until it was finally over.

“At least the cobwebs have been swept,” you settle. You thought someone who had a hardening quirk would have more gusto. Apparently the hardness of his boner does very little for the duration of intercourse. Good to know.

The chilled air nipped at you skin, leaving your cheeks and nose red with its kiss. In its wake was a residual sweetness, weak but more exigent the farther you walked. You made use of your quirk, a keen sense of smell, to locate where the comforting aroma came from. You face the bright patisserie, welcoming and quaint and almost entirely unoccupied.

As you walk inside, you’re greeted by a young woman, her swollen belly covered by an apron. She’s attempting to grab a tart from the middle shelf of the display case, squatted with her hand pressed into her lower back as if it were the only thing keeping her from toppling over.

“Do you need help?” You watch with pity.

She blinks at you and sighs, contemplating whether it was a good idea, or if it was even allowed, to ask for a customer’s assistance. Deciding it wouldn’t hurt, she nods and lets out a breathy laugh. “Please. This baby makes it impossible for me to do much nowadays.”

She hands you a glove and the box that had three cakes sitting neatly atop parchment. “How far along are you?”

It’s a weak attempt of small talk. And you don’t really care to know. But it would be awkward carry on in silence. So you manage to sound curious all the same.

“33 weeks.”

You hand her the box, tart acquired, and mumble out a congratulations. She thanks you kindly, although her smile doesn’t entirely reach her eyes. She gives you a slice of strawberry shortcake, perched on the top shelf, as reward for your task, as well as a coin.

“It’s for the gacha,” she points at the machine near the entrance. “I check each capsule to make sure there are no duds.”

You can’t possibly know what she means by that. You hold up the coin to her in thanks and grab your capsule before setting off.

It’s an All Might charm. Throwing it in your pocket, you work on your slice of cake, grabbing it with your hand and taking a bite like it was a slice of pizza. You never understood the logic behind idolizing heroes. While they did save the world from certain demise, and you were very thankful you were not a slave to a demon lord, heroes are simply doing their job. Were you to idolize the teen who whips up your order at McDonaz for feeding you as well? Mouthful of strawberry and cream, you chuckle at the mental image.

Your vision blurs as you’re abruptly yanked out of your reverie.

“What in the actual fuck?” You question angrily.

You turn to see a man, blue face partially covered for anonymity, holding the purse that is still slung to your shoulder. You stare through mirthless eyes as he growls in frustration, obviously intending to make an easier escape. Cake in hand, you slap him hard enough to leave a stinging pain in your palm. He struggles to get the cream from out of his eyes as he dashes away.

You hear a laugh behind you. “I had all intentions of rescuing you, although it doesn’t look like you need much help.”

His arms are crossed and his yellow visor does little to hide his obvious amusement.

“There are bigger evils to be thwarted. I can manage a failed pickpocket,” you respond, shifting your purse strap to sling across your body. “Shouldn’t you be, like, going after that guy?”

He blinks. “I already have.”

Your hair is pushed forward as the crimson feather zips past you and nestles neatly back into his plush wings. The weight of his stare is immobilizing. You’ve been gawked at by men countless times. But his slitted pupils gleams with lascivious intent.

You should look away.

You should tell Hawks goodnight.

You just let some rando fuck you only an hour ago.

Could you count that as a fuck?

That’s beside the point.

Only, you’re not sure what happened in the last ten minutes because now he’s pressed against you in your apartment hall, his lips latched onto yours as his stubble scrapes your chin. You want to put your hands on him anywhere and everywhere, feel the wiry muscles of his arm or test just how soft his wings are. But before you can so much as place a finger on him he seizes your wrists and holds them against the wall above your head, only to immediately trade them for your ass, hauling you up off the floor so that you can straddle him as your kiss deepens like the sea, your tongue sliding across his in waves.

You give him directions to the bedroom through the sloppy, firm kisses, shrugging off your top and hearing it hit the floor behind you. You jerk your hips forward to feel his hard-on, your jeans adding a touch of friction that makes you moan softly into his mouth.

He plops you on the bed, immediately tugging on the button of your pants.

But wait...

Perplexed, you ask, “When did you undress?”

Hawks grins at you and, instead of a response, answers by flapping his wings. The cold air it pushes towards you elicits a shiver. He rips off your jeans and panties in one go, staring at your pussy as if it were his last, god-damned meal. He winds his arms around your thighs and pulls you forward, his hot breath making your cunt twitch. He licks you with fervor, pressing his tongue against your soft, wet flesh. The moan he releases covers you in goosebumps. As he narrows in on your clit, circling it with his tongue before sucking down, your breasts jerks up. The pleasure is palpable as he eats away at your needy pussy vehemently. He releases one leg and inserts a finger into you to test the waters, followed by a second to fill you a bit more, curling his fingers upward in search of the spot that is sure to drive you wild. And it doesn’t take long, because in record timing you’re feeling hot, so very fucking hot, and the pressure that has been building in your head begs for release.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck...me,” you drag out, snapping the rubber band that was holding your sanity in place.

You come hard and loud. He chuckles as he lets you drift back down from your high, lapping away at your juices and then wiping what remains on his chin with his thumb. As he sits up he rubs his dick, hard and thick and begging for entry as precum drips from the tip. He strokes his cock against your lips, thick veins greeting your clit to reinvigorate your arousal.

“Please,” you breathe out. It’s so unlike you to beg. You’re stubborn and proud, but in this instant, you would give anything for him to fuck you into oblivion, destroying your soppy cunt like he might destroy a menace.

He grabs your waist and pulls you up, kissing you roughly before falling back, leaving you straddled on top of him. He runs his hands down your body, rubbing you clit haphazardly.

“Show me how much you want it,” he smirks.

You rub his arousal against your lips a few times to continue coating him with your overflowing juices. Then you lean forward, one hand behind you takes hold of his cock and guides him in.

He’s big. Like “bite down on your bottom lip and squeeze your eyes shut while you tremble” big. You’re wetness did little for this intrusion, his cock scraping your walls as it inches in deep. But imagining his dick impaling you in quick succession leaves you breathless and wanting. You begin to move. Bobbing up and down, slowly at first, to get used to his girth. Adding the occasional swirl of your hips to get your pussy to cooperate and suck him up entirely. His eyes are on your cute face, red and focused, before he slides them down to watch where your bodies are conjoined. After a few minutes of pumping, your legs are beginning to tire, and try your best to keep the pace but hope for some intervention or a small reprieve. He must notice this, because he places his hands on your hips and pulls down, sheathing himself completely in one hard thrust. You cry out in ecstasy, throwing your head back as his fat cock punches into your cervix.

You hear him grunt under you. “Shit. F-fuck. You’re clamping around me.”

He thrusts, grinding into your throbbing cunt mercilessly. You cant think, you can breathe, all you can focus is the swift piston that seem to send an electric shock into the pit of your chest. You rub your the bundle of nerves at the apex of your heat with abandon, sending another bolt through your body. He catches your eyes roll to the back of your head. Shit, shit, shit, right there, right there, right...

A scream that had been building up in your stomach explodes from your mouth as your entire body quakes above him, hands gripping onto the anchor that is his hard, muscular abdomen.

He gently places his arm on your lower back, maneuvering the both of you without pulling out. You’re not sure if it’s the residual effect of your last orgasm, but you feel almost weightless.

You wouldn’t find out until later that he had used his wings to reposition.

He lays you on the mattress, kissing your neck and trailing down until his mouth meets your breast. He begins moving again, sucking on your nipple and softly biting just enough to make you moan. His thrusts are calculated: deep and triggering, each one leaving you a drooling mess.

He places his forearms on either side of your head, pressing a kiss to your ear.

“I need to fuck you hard,” he whispers.

All you can do is frantically nod before he starts speeding up, skin slapping skin. Your nails dig into his shoulder blades, quick grunts echoing the creak of the springs in the bed beneath you. His dick pushes your organs up, up, up, as your body takes him in obediently, craving the taste. You mewl out quietly, biting your bottom lip and furrowing your brows.

“You’re so pretty, so fucking pretty.”

You cant respond, you just focus on each relentless thrust driving you closer to the breaking point. He sits up, raising your hips to find a better angle. He rams into you, quick and powerful. His cock reduces your mind to mush each time he bottoms out. He is close, you know. Not because his fingers are now digging into the skin of your hips, or the sweat that gleams on his brow. But because you feel his dick twitch repeatedly in your gewy cunt.

He plows into you erratically, filling you up so, very thoroughly. He grits his teeth with one final plunge, shooting his hot, sticky load into you. The feeling of his cum stuffing you to the brim feels almost comforting. You try, desperately, to hold in the sob threatening to escape you. You refuse to get emotional.

Oh lord. Get a grip. You just met the man. You need to keep your cool. Because, just like the one before, regardless of your small, nagging desire, you know the cold truth of the matter.

He’s only temporary.

Even if he has given you the best sex of your life.

Even as his shaky fingers detach from your hips as he releases a whistle.

Even as he asks, “you doing okay?” with an open tenderness that surprises you.

Even as he brings his hand to your face and wipes away the tear that manages to free itself despite your earnest resolve.

Even as you give him the most genuine smile you can offer.

“Extraordinary.”

#hawks x y/n #hawksbnha #hawks x reader #fan fiction #Smut #bnha smut #anime fic #why is it spicy #takami keigo x reader #keigo takami

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stutterfly · 4 years

Text

Snow, Don’t Tell (M) | PJM

Granny Park’s Gossip:

Jimin is the sweetest boy around, no comparison. Always ready to listen to my stories, visits me regularly and tells me all sorts of tales about those friends of his. Might as well adopt them all, I know so much about them! Jiminie’s the best grandson anyone could ask for, really, a little angel, and his little gang of friends is quite the hoot. He’s been a little quiet about himself lately, though. Kept going on and on about that neighbor of his, how cute she always looks and how he likes to help her with her groceries, but I think maybe I teased him just a little too much about that crush of his. Maybe he’ll figure out a way to get closer to her this holiday season, because who knows how much longer he’ll pine over the girl if he doesn’t.

❄ Word Count: 27.2k

❄ Pairing: Jimin x Reader

❄ Genre: Neighbors AU / Friends to Lovers / Fluff / Smut / Humor

❄ Rating: 18+ / Explicit

❄ CW and other tags: heavy sexual tension, grinding, groping, swearing, kissing, biting, hair pulling, fingering, masturbation, teasing, edging, hickeys/ bruising skin, oral sex (male and female receiving), praise kink, love kink, mentions of threesome, hinted foursome, penetrative sex, protected sex, pinching, pierced nips, tiddyfucking, dirty filthy talk, whiny Jimin, Jimin is a Snake spilling all the tea about his friends, angst, mentioned alcoholism, mentions of toxic parents, some negative self-talk which is quashed by the prince himself, feelings of self-consciousness, insecurities about education, basically a slowburn speedrun that’s wet and wild, second-hand embarrassment, exhibitionism/voyeurism, Jimin is everyone’s therapist, reader is a mess, jimin is a mess too The Snowball Effect Collab Masterlist This is the first fic the series/project The Snowball Effect. Please click the link above to see the summaries and genres for each fic! Also, while each of these fics can stand on their own, they all end up at the same place, occurring simultaneously. There are also little easter eggs and secrets for the other fics woven throughout each of these! For the biggest, fluffiest Snowball Effect experience, we highly recommend you read each of them! Do not repost.

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‘Thank you’ is a powerful phrase. It can hold so much joy, affirmation, and even love. True gratitude is more than a word; it's a feeling. It's those unexpected, kind gestures when everything is falling apart: the small smile across the room to ease the tension, the jokes shared to lighten the load of a stressful existence, or the quarters spent drying a neighbor's laundry.

There's nothing quite like being appreciated, nothing quite like someone else being thoughtful for once, nothing quite like someone saying, "I know you didn't have to do it but you did, and I can't express what it means to me." Okay, so sometimes they don't say it, but it's strongly implied.

Around this time each year work grows incredibly stressful. Everyone is trying to push their work onto someone else's desk and leave the office in hopes of enjoying some time with family and friends. Taking off the last two weeks of the year seemed like a no-brainer. So why is it so hard to turn off the screen and actually do that?

Click. Click.

Another email answered, another client getting their response before the new year. Dark, tired eyes lazily drift across the computer screen, fluttering a moment until he catches his head leaning forwards and sits up straight with a shake of his head. How many more emails can there possibly be? Jimin stretches his arms towards the ceiling and slowly rolls onto his back, resting his head against the plush carpet of his living room. Aren't vacations supposed to be a time of relaxation and fun? Isn't he supposed to be able to turn on his out-of-office message, leave the post-it note on his monitor, and trust in his coworkers? A heavy sigh escapes him and a frustrated groan rumbles in his throat. "Why can't I just turn it off?"

Stifling a yawn, he pulls the phone from his pocket to check the time. Six fifteen. Why am I so tired already? Should I get some dinner?

He blinks a few times, feeling his eyelids grow heavier with each pass they make across his eyes. Still holding the phone, his hand slowly descends until the device is pressed flat onto his chest. He's teetering into a dream when the unmistakable jingle of keychains clattering against one another echoes in the hallway. His eyes immediately snap open, and he brings his phone up again. Oh shit. It's Thursday.

The device slips through his fingers and smacks against his forehead. As he rubs his temple to soothe the dull ache beginning to form, he ponders whether the phone is to blame or if work is the true culprit. Resting his head against the plush carpeting, he blankly stares at the ceiling and loses himself in quiet meditation, thoughtlessness consuming every second that passes. A small sound pokes through the barrier of silence, a muffled humming just barely passing through the wall beyond the couch.

Jimin lifts his head just enough to peer down his body, focusing just beyond the laptop at the wall separating his apartment from yours. The humming continues and he curiously tilts his head towards the sound, as though he can make his ears listen harder than they already are. What are you singing tonight, Snow?

He rolls over, twisting his torso just enough to rest on his elbows as he closes his eyes, hoping turning off one sense will heighten the other. Instead, he begins to imagine you frantically ripping off your work clothes in an attempt to enjoy your evening as fast as possible, quickly donning some thin tanktop you've saved as your last article of clean clothing for the week. You're always braless in the laundry room, your cold, hardened nipples poking out from beneath the flimsy fabric stretched tight around your chest. But it's never thin enough to be as transparent as he would like. His tongue darts out to wet his lips briefly before dragging his teeth over his bottom lip.

The humming wavers between louder and softer as you run between rooms, no doubt collecting everything as fast as possible in case he beats you there. Should he let you win this time?

"Baby, you're a fiiiiiiiiirework!" you belt out, very off-key before mumbling the rest of the lyrics you clearly don't know and slowly going back into a hum.

Laughter spills from Jimin's lips like a water fountain in hopes that it's loud enough for you to hear. When you continue on your tune without missing a beat, he leans back, his laughter dissipating into a wide smile as he slowly rises from the floor.

The laundry bin sits by the door, a pitifully small amount of dirty clothes resting in the bottom of it. He presses his lips together a moment before gathering clean clothes from the hangers in his closet and tossing them on the pile. Opening the door, he grabs the basket, casually strolling past your door and down the hall into the laundry room.

No one else seems to do laundry on Thursday nights. It's no doubt why you chose it as the time to do yours. One of the two washers is always busted. Tonight, however, both seem to be functioning. That won’t do. Jimin hoists himself on top of the machines, giving himself enough leverage to unplug the one that’s always falling into disrepair. Luckily the service ticket has been discarded recently. He pulls it from the top of the exposed trash bin in the corner and places it on top of the “broken” washing machine. He quickly starts loading his laundry into the functioning machine, humming the same tune he heard you singing earlier.

You don’t mind working during the holiday season. Everyone has somewhere to go, family to see. You gladly volunteer to work the shifts no one wants to distract yourself from the fact that you don’t. Overtime pay doesn’t hurt either. It’s easier to take your mind off of the disappointment that family-oriented holidays bring when you have cute little customers to send home happy and clean. Unfortunately, you always seem to get filthy in the process of making that happen.

The pile of dirty fabrics layered in your laundry basket tells you that you should probably start a load before showering if you want to have anything semi-clean to wear tomorrow. Plus, if you want to beat your neighbor to the good machine, you’ll need to hustle. Despite the sweat dripping down your neck, you don your favorite zip-up hoodie to attempt to hide the fact that your bra is in the bin with all the other items slated for a good wash.

You catch yourself in the mirror just before picking up the basket, oversized jacket sliding one of your shoulders and exposing your skin to the chill of the apartment. You’re torn between wanting Jimin to see you like this and hoping that you’ll only see him after showering, as you’re fairly certain you still smell like wet dog.

There’s an undeniable tension cutting through the air any time you’re in a room together, but you’re too much of a chickenshit to do anything about it. You’ve convinced yourself that there’s no way someone as perfect-looking as Jimin could be actually interested in you. You want the flirting and the nights spent watching garbage TV together to lead to something real, but fantasizing about how you’d knock on his door simply to confess your attraction is a lot safer than actually doing it.

Down the hall you go, lifting the heavy basket just past the threshold and dragging it across the carpeted hallway. You pop out one of the headphones in your ears so that no one can sneak up on you as you round the corner to the laundry room. Kicking the basket with your foot, it smacks into the door and you awkwardly reach over the pile of clothes to swing it open. The plastic scrapes across the tile and your field of vision travels from the floor to the machine currently filling with water.

Jimin sits on top of the washer with one leg crossed over the other, hands folded around his knee. A smug grin adorns his features as his eyes roam over your form, drinking in the surprise you offer so freely.

"I beat you again this week, Snow," he teases, bouncing his crossed leg a few times with a mischievous tilt of his head.

A puff of hot air passes through your parted lips, clearly not expecting the man to be waiting so patiently for your arrival. Your nose scrunches up in disapproval as you take a few steps towards him, hands on your hips. "You know I get home late on Thursdays. Can't you let me win for once?"

"Oh, you want me to take it easy on you?" He tuts, tongue poking into the side of his cheek for a moment. He uncrosses his legs and uses his palms to lean forward, raising his eyebrows. He pauses once he's inches from your face, letting the shallow space between you build the tension you've become accustomed to. "That doesn't sound like any fun."

You bite your bottom lip, suppressing the urge to close the distance between you. "What sounds like fun to you then?"

The way his smile falters as his eyes fill with devious wonder causes your heart to skip a beat. You swallow hard as his gaze blatantly drops to your chest and his tongue slowly rolls across his lips. Your first instinct is to cover the nipples you know are practically poking holes through your tanktop, but you power through the shame burning your cheeks long enough for his eyes to finish their journey down your body. When they settle on yours again, they definitely seem darker, full of hunger.

"I can think of a few things," he murmurs in a low voice, barely above a whisper. "But they're a secret." He giggles, a shy smile cutting the devilish tone from his words.

It's a deep enough cut through the thick tension that you can take a step back and release the breath you've unknowingly been holding. You roll your eyes and sigh as you note the repair ticket on the machine beside him. "Well, looks like I'll have to wait until you're done." You hoist the basket of dirty laundry onto the seemingly broken washer beside him, carefully taking out the small container of detergent stuffed towards the top. The words come out before you can stop them. "Do you have a big load?"

He drags his teeth over his lips a few times and allows his smile to grow impossibly wider. "You're talking about laundry, right?"

You clumsily fumble with the bottle of detergent until it hits the washer with a loud bang, trying to recover from your poorly-worded question as you position the container upright and eye the empty bin beside him."Yes. The load! It looks! ....Big... A big... Load. Did you stuff it all in there?" The thoughts pricking your tongue are short and choppy, full of regret and horny confusion.

There's no way to hide the mental images playing in your mind of Jimin taking you from behind, emptying himself into you. There's no way to hide the way you want to sink to your knees and take him into your mouth until he gives you the load you can't stop talking about.

He purses his lips and raises his eyebrows at you again, offering another chance for you to rephrase. You squeeze your eyes shut, wishing you could phase through the floor instead of dealing with the meltdown your brain is obviously having. "I just... Don't break it by stuffing it too full, y'know?"

Jimin snickers behind his hand. "Don't worry. I was able to fit everything in, but it's a reasonable size."

"Knock on my door when you're done," you say quietly, ashamed by the lack of bloodflow in your own head.

You turn to leave but Jimin grabs your wrist, causing you to spin back towards him. "Wait..."

He leans in, strawberry blonde hair falling across his face as he tries to get your attention with eyes that threaten to pierce into your very soul. His head swerves left and right and you mirror his movements to avoid eye contact.

“Look at me,” he pleads, throaty whine ripping through the base of his chest despite the smile on his lips. “Please?”

Your eye flicker to meet his, a pout staining your features that you hope will mask your embarrassment long enough to return to the safety of your apartment. “What?”

“Would you… Like to come over and watch a movie?” Despite the cheesy grin on his face, his voice falters and the tips of his ears are bright red. “I ordered pizza. I don’t think I can eat it all myself and I don't like leftovers.”

You know he has his shy side, but any time it peeks out from behind his confident persona, it still manages to catch you off guard. You do your best not to sound too eager, but you can feel the butterflies fluttering against your stomach and traveling up your chest. They’re telling you to screech your answer until your lungs quit burning.

It’s not like he’s never invited you over his apartment before. You've shared many pizzas, and takeout boxes over trashy reality TV for the past few months. But this thing you two have been dancing around is finally pushing your hormones to a breaking point. He seems interested, but always hesitates, letting moments pass that would be better spent pressing himself into your body or running his tongue across your neck.

It occurs to you that maybe he just likes to tease for some harmless fun and the prospect of things going any further with you isn’t part of the game. Maybe you’re just projecting your desires onto him. His jaw goes slack as you lean towards him, melting beneath his gaze. Dark eyes drift across your chest again, shamelessly spacing out when they settle on the pebbled nipples beneath your shirt.

Then again, maybe you think too much.

Every conversation is deeply rooted in lust, but the flirtatious banter is always coated with a fine film of pleasantries that mask your true intentions. Could he feel the same? If you can just get the static in your brain to subside long enough to form a coherent thought, to allow you to properly express your feelings, maybe you could get an answer out of him. Pushing down the excitement brewing in your gut, your eyes dart away and you nervously clear your throat.

“I… have to clean mastiff spit out of my hair,” you begin, your heart snapping in two when you catch the smile fade with the light in his eyes. “But… I’d love to come over when I’m finished.”

He visibly perks up and hops down from the washer, casually gesturing at the digital timer on its screen. “Meet back here in twenty?”

You unconsciously bite your lip, grinning like an idiot as you make your exit. “It’s a date.”

As the door to the laundry room clicks shut, Jimin bobs his head in disbelief a few times. This time you used the word ‘date.’ Tonight can’t be another movie night where he freezes up. No horror. No action movies or thrillers. It’s time to pick out some cute rom-com for you both to giggle along to, hopefully with an extra mushy scene he can use to set the mood. He jumps in the air, unable to contain his excitement. His cheeks are beginning to hurt with how much smiling he’s been doing, but he doesn’t care. You said it’s a date.

A shiver wracks his body as he closes the door to his apartment. He frowns at the number on the thermostat, quickly pressing the button to raise the temperature until it's obnoxiously higher than it should be. There. It should warm up in no time. He seeks the instant gratification of warmth, however. When it doesn't come he decides the next twenty minutes will be best spent in a hot bath.

He grips the edge of the cold fiberglass surface with his hands, sinking into the steaming water slowly with a satisfied sigh. He tilts his head back, resting it on the tile behind him. The sound of water rushing through your showerhead carries through the wall and he stills all movement, careful not to disturb the surface of the water until he hears the sliding of curtain rings along a metal rod. The pressure of the water pounding against the tub dulls in volume, clearly finding another target to assail. You hiss a string of curses that indicate the temperature is too hot for your liking, but it's far too easy to hear sin in each little gasp you take.

Jimin submerges his hand in the water, leaving the other gripping the edge of the tub. His fingers squeeze the inner flesh of his thigh before forming a tight fist around the base of his hardened cock. He stills, feeling the familiar needy pulse echoing against the grip of his palm, urging him to offer some kind of relief in the form of movement. But he’s determined to listen, straining his ears for any indication of your body’s positioning; what he wouldn’t give to be able to see you right now. What would you do if this wasn’t here? Would you watch me too?

Realizing he’s not going to get much more out of the wall behind him unless you decide to sing, he closes his eyes. It’s almost too easy to imagine the water pelting the tender flesh of your breasts. He can thank the thin fabric of your tanktops for that. The cleavage and pebbled nipples constantly drawing his attention away from your face has created a mirage in his mind that’s almost believable. Stray droplets roll down your body in places he knows his tongue could do a much better job covering. His thumb brushes up and down preemptively against his cock, doing everything he can to show restraint just in case you decide to part those pretty lips of yours and sing for him.

Finally he drags his palm up his shaft, finding a rhythm that begins to ease the throb building in his abdomen. He thinks of standing in that shower with you, strands of sopping wet hair sticking to his face as his mouth collides with the delicate skin of your chest. He thinks of tonguing one nipple and licking a stripe to the other. He thinks of using his hands to massage and squeeze at the heavenly mounds of flesh before him as the water beats down on the pair of you. Most importantly, he thinks of you pleading for more. All restraint he previously showed comes crashing down for a fraction of a second. The moan that rips itself from his throat is shameful enough to bring a blush to his own cheeks, and it’s absolutely loud enough to carry through the walls. Did you hear that? ...Did you like it?

Before he can consider pausing to listen for a subtle response, the loud thud of what sounds like a heavy plastic container hitting your floor breaks him from his daydream. Did I catch you off guard? Jimin does nothing to subdue the cackle spewing from his mouth. You certainly didn’t earn your nickname for your grace. Gradually he picks up the pace, allowing his fist to glide from the base of his cock to the exposed tip poking out of the water. The wet sloshing sound his fist makes as it bobs up and down is enough to drive him over the edge, imagining what it might be like to fuck himself down your throat. A growl starts low in his chest and builds into a whine as it tumbles from his mouth.

The glistening studs in his nipples rhythmically heave with each greedy breath, already cold and hard from the exposure to the air. His free hand instinctively moves to pinch the bit of flesh trapped between one of the studs. The sting adds a new wave of pleasure to the way his hand plunges down into the water and up again. He pants into the air, wishing you were the force guiding the hand over his shaft, creating the pressure and wetness trapped between his fingers.

He thinks of you on the other side of this wall, soapy suds running down your perfect tits, your stomach, your legs. What he wouldn’t give to be on his knees between those legs, latching onto your pussy and performing sinful tricks with pressured flicks of his tongue. You might want to get clean, but he wants to make you filthy, even as soft citrus-scented suds dribble down your body and onto his face. Would your legs buckle under the pleasure? He considers hooking his arms around your legs and leaning you back against the wall for better leverage, sucking on that sensitive, swollen bud as the water cascades down his back. What do you sound like when you really sing?

Almost perfectly timed, a moan breaks through the sound of his frenzied pelvic thrusts sloshing up into his fist. A particularly jagged exhale leaves his lips as he slows, the water undulating like angry waves crashing into one another. Click. Click. Click. The sound of the water pressure in your shower changes drastically. Jimin’s whole body convulses as he realizes what you’re doing. He plants his feet on the wall above the faucet, bending his knees so he can sink down into the tub up to his jaw.

He’s been in your apartment. He’s seen the handheld attachment. Closing your transparent shower curtains for company doesn’t mean it’s suddenly invisible. He holds back a curse as you cry out in pleasure again. This time you sound close to the wall beside him. Too close. You’re doing this on purpose. Do you want me to listen? Two can play at this game, Snow.

He drags his teeth over his lip and pumps himself fast, water spilling from the tub and flooding the cold tile flooring. Loud, unrestrained groans fill the air as the water sloshes between his palm and cock, creating a very wet, obscene squelching sound. He straightens his legs against the wall to bring himself up to a relaxed position as he gasps for release, trying not to drown in the water rolling back and forth in the tub.

It’s almost too cute the way he imagines your face is changing color right now. To his surprise you immediately retaliate with a slew of vulgar curses and frantic pleading. Electric butterflies pulse through his abdomen, quickening the pace at which his climax is travelling. It’s so close now; he can’t even pretend like that didn’t just affect him.

“Y/N…. Please… Come over… Ah...” he moans against the wall, knowing you’re panting just on the other side.

“Oh, fuck… I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum,” you warn in a shrill whisper, volume growing with each repetition until you’re practically shrieking. Just at the peak of your frenzied inhales, your voice dips into a low breathy whimper that he can barely make out. “Jimin… I’m cumming. Fuck...”

He slows his movements so he can better listen to you reach your climax, hearing his name on your lips just before losing the ability to listen to anything over his own thrashing in the water. His palm glides down his cock and back up, desperate to meet his own release. He’s got your voice in his head notifying him you’re about to cum on repeat. It drives him over the edge.

He groans, using pressure and strength to stroke himself one last time as ropes of white begin to shoot straight up towards the ceiling like a fountain and land back in the water. He pumps himself through it, riding each wave of pleasure until he’s sure he’s milked every drop of cum from his cock and the fountain of white subsides. He falls back and lets his arms go limp in the water. Now he’s the one who needs a shower.

Despite wanting to show off a little skin for your date with Jimin, there’s a chill in the complex that seems to permeate deep into your skin, digging straight down to your bones. Even the memory of your bold behavior in the shower can’t keep the heat circulating through your body. By the time you realize how long it has taken you to will yourself from the steamy bathroom, apply some “low-effort” makeup, and wiggle into a pair of fleece-lined leggings, you’re ashamed to have missed the window for your meeting by ten minutes.

You sprint down the hall in an oversized hoodie, desperate to apologize for your tardiness. The electric hum of the dryer greets you, and the washing machine previously occupied by Jimin’s belongings thrums nearby, but he’s nowhere to be found. Your laundry bin sits on top of the washer, its contents within the machine below. The backside of the repair ticket has been scribbled on and left beside your bin. ‘Are you still coming, Snow? ;)’

The ticket crumples in your palm as you stuff it in the cavity of your sweatshirt and make your way back towards Jimin’s door, holding back the nerves swirling in your chest. You want to scream in excitement, but that’s probably not an acceptable reaction, even though you reason with yourself that it is a very human one considering how long you've waited for an opportunity like this.

The door swings open before you can knock, a very bundled up Jimin puffing his cheeks out at you. For a moment you mistake his expression for one of annoyance at you. "The heat is out. Can you believe it?"

"What?"

"I just got an email from the leasing office. They don't know when it will be fixed. They're urging people to buy heaters and get reimbursed for them later," he mumbles, looking down at his phone and re-reading the message as you brush past him, immediately discarding your furry slippers as you go. The carpeting in his apartment feels so much better than yours.

"That explains why I can't stop shivering," you sigh. On your next inhale, the smell of pepperoni wafts into your nostrils, and you make a beeline for the small dining room table across the room, noting the closed box on top of it.

"At least they're offering to take money off of rent 'due to inconvenience.'" Jimin scrunches up his nose, shuffling his sulking form towards you. "But I don't want to go buy a heater."

You already have a slice of pizza stuffed in your mouth when you absentmindedly try to answer. "Ihaabwon." The words are a garbled mess.

His eyes meet yours and you nearly choke, embarrassed for trying to speak with your mouth full. The hand still clutching his phone falls to his side and he grins at you with devilish intent, eyes crinkling in the corners. "You're so cute when your mouth is stuffed."

You chew a few times and swallow hard. When you find the nerve to speak, your voice comes out smaller and softer than you'd like. "...I have one. I'll go get it."

Damn it. What happened to being bold? Maybe you'd be faring better if your heart wasn't pounding so damn fast. Despite this, none of your blood seems to be circulating properly to your fingers, your toes, or even your brain at this junction. You're suspicious it's all being funneled into your swollen clit, which has only just stopped tingling from the barrage of pressure you'd exposed it to. Regardless, you gobble down the rest of the slice as you exit, telling yourself you can't let your nerves get the better of you again. Tonight has already proven you can be braver than you think, and it's time to embrace it.

It's about twenty minutes into the movie when you finally work up the courage to place your hand on his, finding it just as cold and clammy as yours. He gives it a gentle squeeze and twines your fingers together without looking away from the screen. Your rapid heartbeat threatens to give away every ache his touch soothes. You do your best to focus on the flimsy plot of the film, but all you can think about is how nice it feels to finally have his palm pressed against yours.

The space heater across the room rattles, fruitlessly pumping out a stream of hot air that never quite makes it over to the pair of you. It’s now that you’re just noticing the soft glow of yellow string lights, creating a cozy atmosphere that you wish could be half as warm as it looks. You chew your lip as you pretend to watch the screen, feeling the weight of his head coming to rest on your shoulder. You try to avoid the thought of how badly you have to pee right now, resisting the urge to bounce your leg to stave off the sensation. The universe is too cruel.

Suddenly Jimin’s pocket begins buzzing. He pulls out his phone and silences the vibrations, groaning as he turns his face towards your shoulder. “Ugh. Laundry is done. I need to go get it...”

As he rises you feel his hand turn over yours a few times, gently caressing the length of your fingers as though he’ll never feel them again. You move to stand but he presses his palm into your shoulder, encouraging you to stay put. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it, ok? Keep my seat warm.”

You melt into the cushion, grinning foolishly at the wink he gives you before wrapping a blanket around himself and leaving. Trembling hands fumble for the remote control, pausing the movie to hopefully drag out the time you’ll spend with him tonight. You have ample time to relieve the pressure on your bladder, nearly breaking your neck on the wet, slippery tile of the bathroom.

Despite the crumpled proof sitting in your pocket, or your aversion to speaking on what you suspected was only a fucked-out fantasy, the amount of water lingering on that floor confirms its authenticity. Can you really pretend like you didn’t get off just listening to him moan and touch himself? Can you really pretend like he didn’t get off listening to you? You settle down in front of the space heater, warming your fingers on the hot air with a satisfied sigh and spacing out as you lose yourself in the memory.

Jimin returns from laundry duty after a few minutes, but you’re focused on the heat, closing your eyes and trying to get the chill out of your bones. He waddles his laundry bin to the corner of the room, setting it down before creeping up behind you. Soft fleece wraps around shoulders along with his curve of his arms. It’s warm, incredibly soft, and it smells of fresh linen fabric softener.

“You weren’t keeping my spot warm.” The chiding nature of his tone is undercut by the breathy whisper and pillowy lips thawing the cold shell of your ear.

“I’ll make it up to you,” you promise, eyes still closed when you turn your face towards the tickling sensation.

"Oh? Really?" Supple lips skim against your cheek, but he doesn't move any closer. "How?"

You exhale a ragged breath, trying to find the will to close the distance between your lips. All it would take is a nudge, just a subtle turn on your part to do so. But, like always, you freeze. How ridiculous is it that you can mutually masturbate, but sharing a kiss is somehow beyond your courage?

"I'll... keep you warm now. I'm all toasty, see?" Your palm, now slightly less frigid but still equally clammy, cups his chin as you tap your fingers against his cheek.

"I see..." he hums in disapproval, weight of his chin resting on your cold hand. "It seems like you need more time to defrost, but if you come back to the couch with me we can share this blanket I threw in the dryer with your clothes for a few minutes.”

"Hmph, are you saying I wouldn't do a good job keeping you warm?"

You can feel the twitch of his lips against your palm, shy smile forming. "Your hands are still so cold! I'm sure you have your ways. But..." He pauses, gentling bringing his thumb and forefinger across your jawline before pressing them together below your chin. "I'd love to see what they are."

You half-giggle, half-scoff at him. He’s laying it on thick tonight, but it’s not like you mind. In fact, you don’t want the night to end because of it. You both settle in on the couch with Jimin draping the soft blanket across you, remnants of a faint heat in its fibers. Just as the movie resumes, Jimin starts curling the blanket in his fingers, which causes the material to billow in his lap. It’s not like it’s a small blanket, but over the course of a few minutes you’re left with practically no coverage.

“Thief,” you finally accuse, fingers clutching the remaining edge slipping past your shoulder.

He blinks and stares back at you with a surprised smile. “Hmm? We’re sharing aren’t we?”

You roll your eyes and snuggle closer in an attempt to siphon back some coverage. Still his fingers twine the blanket in circles, inching the material further off the slope of your body. Your fingers slither across his chest and down the curve of his arm in search of the hand robbing you of heat. Neither of you are even pretending to watch the movie anymore. He tries to slink back into the cushion, smiling at your futile attempts to free the fabric from his grasp.

“You stop that,” you whisper, leaning against his chest and losing yourself in the way his eyes seem to twinkle in the golden glow of the lights circling the room. When you finally make contact with the fist curled in the blanket, he immediately drops the fabric and clamps down to lace your fingers with his.

“Make me,” he pleads through half-lidded eyes, tongue swiping a quick line across his lips.

You return the pressure on your palm with a squeeze of your own, pressing the back of his hand into the cushion beside him. “Fuck,” you breathe.

Your eyelids flutter for half a second; the electric chill running through your body may be caused by the temperature or simply the way his neck dips to lower his face down to yours. Either way, your breath hitches and you hook your leg over his lap. He takes this as an invitation to slide his free arm around your back, ready to press you even further into his body should you give him a signal to proceed.

You lean further across his lap, arching yourself up into him. “Is that what you want? You want me to make you?” you whisper curiously, lips grazing his as the questions spill from them.

“Please,” he whines breathlessly, voice cracking.

You close the gap with a sly, teasing smile, hungrily smashing your mouths together as though tasting every bit of him will sate that hunger. The hand currently sinking into the couch flies up to his jaw, thumb tracing a line over its contours as you’ve been aching to do for ages. He uses the opportunity to cradle the back of your head, gently positioning it in a way that puts less of a strain on his neck while the hand at your back coaxes you desperately towards him in a lopsided embrace.

The ebb and flow of your kisses have your heads bobbing in time with one another. He inhales greedily over your mouth, immediately coming back down to suck your bottom lip between his teeth. A small satisfied sigh lingers in your throat, and you feel his hand clamp down on the thigh you have spread over his lap.

Just as gravity starts to drive your form further from his embrace, you shift your weight and shimmy your arm out from where it’s trapped against his body. He allows you to pull away for just a moment, your lip snapping back to you with a soft, wet smack. You flit your tongue out to savor any sliver of himself that he’s left behind, already missing the way his tongue tastes when trading exploratory flicks with yours.

Planting your palm into the cushion beside his head, you gain enough leverage to fully straddle his pelvis. You tower above him, relishing in the wonder carved into the way he watches you, mirth creasing thin lines into the outer edges of his eyes. Your thumb glides across his cheek a few times as you lightly cup his jaw with your fingertips, your gaze darting between the reflections of light dancing across his eyes.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” you admit.

“I’ve wanted you for a long time,” he confesses, maintaining steadfast eye contact as he fights the blush prickling the tips of his ears.

It takes all of your self-restraint not to immediately ask why. Instead a joke forms on your tongue before you can quell it. “It’s the smell of wet dog, right? Drives you crazy?”

He giggles, throwing his head back with a loud inhale. “Irresistible!”

A shy smile parts your lips and you descend on him, crashing your mouth down on his to mute the sound of his laughter. Those gentle giggles quickly morph into muffled moans as your tongue dives into his mouth. It takes less than a second for him to counter your intrusion by sliding his tongue against yours rhythmically and you lose yourself in that hypnotic tempo.

His hands settle the top of your knees before his palms start running up to the crease where your thighs meet your hips and then back down again. Your hips involuntarily begin rocking to combat the need building between your legs, but your leggings have pulled away from your skin in the area you crave friction the most.

A staggered whimper breaks out between your frenzied panting. Whether the sound came from him or from you, it’s hard to tell. The few times you’ve opened your eyes to make sure you haven’t been dreaming, he’s looked just as fucked out as you feel. He starts drawing deep circles along the inside of your thighs with his thumbs and your need for him challenges your need to breathe. Gasping for air between wet, sloppy kisses, you card your fingers through his hair, knotting them in place as you roll your body in time with the tongue gliding against yours. This time he blows a puff of air as he moans into you, greedily latching onto your lip and biting down as the sound leaves a croaky trail in his throat.

Sliding his hands along the tops of your thighs isn’t enough. He spreads his fingers; the edge of his thumbs flare towards the inside of your legs, forging a path up towards your clit. The way the material stretches away from your body causes him to abandon his route in favor of following the fabric tucked in that v-shaped channel leading up to your hips. His touch is too light with the layers you’re wearing, but you don’t have time to file a complaint before he slides his fingers beneath your sweatshirt, clamping them down on your skin.

“Ah!” you hiss between kisses, hips wiggling at the chill creeping up your spine. “Your hands--” You don’t get to finish your sentence before he’s biting down hard again and dragging your lower lip through his teeth. “--arr sho--” Your lip snaps back to you, breaking away just long enough to speak in broken gasps before he closes the distance again. “-cold!”

He laughs against your whine, gripping your back and sneaking both thumbs beneath the waistband of your leggings. “Weren’t you going to warm me up?” You can feel him guiding your hips, dragging them in asymmetric loops over his lap.

“Weren’t you going to share the blanket?” you chide, breaking the kiss again.

He grins, gripping a corner of the blanket and throwing it over your shoulder. “I did. Now come back.” He eagerly tries to goad you back to his lips, but you pull back just a bit.

“There are better ways I can warm your hands,” you mumble, yanking his hair to the side to expose his lovely neck, golden skin riddled with goosebumps. Your mouth gets to work kissing and sucking on the sensitive, uncovered bit of flesh, gushing a little bit when he groans beneath you. But it’s not enough. If only your pants weren’t in the way, you could certainly warm more than just his hands.

He gives your hips a firm squeeze, digging his fingers into the soft flesh at your sides. “What ways are those?”

“Take off your sweater,” you tempt in a whisper, dragging your tongue up to his ear. “And I’ll show you.”

He frowns as you lean back, giving him space to do as you’ve suggested. Instead, he tugs at the hem of your sweatshirt, frown morphing into a devilish smile. “You first.”

“I… don’t have anything on underneath,” you admit, shying away from him.

He slips his hands around your jaw, pulling you forward. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“There’s no heat,” you remind him, mimicking his movements and tapping your fingers against his cheek.

“So you want me to take off mine?” he asks, feigning offense. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, dipping his head forward and following your movements. “That seems kind of unfair, don’t you think?”

Your confidence wanes and you squirm under his scrutiny, feeling particularly stupid for trying to be sexy. Sexy isn’t your thing. Floundering under pressure and saying something dumb is definitely your thing. Sweat runs down your neck, despite the fact that you’re still a walking popsicle. In your defense, the art of botching conversations is a skill that runs in your family.

"You're right," you agree, shaking your head. "I'm sorry. It's freezing. I'm an idiot."

You begin to climb off his lap, but his hands catch your hips and bring you back down. "No, no. You're not." He gently presses his lips against yours. "Don't worry. I know you've got me covered."

With a shit-eating grin, he tugs down on the blanket half-draped across your shoulder. You feel him wiggle beneath you before he leans back and shrugs his arms through the holes of his sweater, hastily working the material over his head. At least he has a t-shirt on; you don't feel quite so bad now. The flicker of static charges the air around him, strawberry blonde hair fanning out like it has its own sense of gravity. Without a second thought he moves back in to kiss you and an electric shock zaps the place where your lips connect.

"Ah!" you recoil at the sensation and he giggles between peppering your jaw with kisses. It takes all of your willpower to push him back against the cushion. He even gives you a little pout, his bottom lip protruding.

"You're worse than my clients," you tease, flicking your tongue out at him. "Be a good boy."

"I am," he insists while cupping your jaw and trying to drag your neck low enough to latch his lips onto. When he realizes you aren't having it, he snakes his hands down to your ass and gives both cheeks a firm squeeze.

"Liar." Grinning like an idiot, you grab his wrists and pin them to the cushions while you descend, watching his eyes as long as possible before you press your lips against his neck. You catch a bit of skin between your teeth and he hisses like steam is about to start pouring from his ears. Pressing down with the flat of your tongue, you explore the expanse of his neck for the sounds of pleasure you yearn to hear.

"This..." he exhales a lazy moan, trying to fight his body's will to give in but you can already see his resolve is flimsy. "...isn't fair..."

A deep, throaty moan vibrates beneath your tongue; your pussy throbs at the way the croaky sound crosses over into a melodic hum as you massage wet circles deeper into that spot where his collarbone and neck meet. Another moan escapes him between shaky breaths, higher pitched this time, and twice as needy. His wrists twitch against your palms, fingers digging into the cushion beneath him. Yeah. You want to live in this spot indefinitely.

"Hey..." he trails softly, head falling against the back of the couch. "... You're... Don't leave marks... Snow... hey... Ah... Y/N..."

Your lips smack as you come up for air. He's too drunk on the endorphins swimming through his veins to see your hesitation at the use of your name in lieu of the cute nickname you've grown accustomed to hearing. "You want me to stop?"

He whimpers, self-control buckling faster than you can even get the question out. "No, don't stop. Please, don't stop, Y/N."

He doesn't need to say it twice; you’ve been waiting far too long for this. Your tongue is back on that sensitive spot right by his collarbone and he's moaning against your ear in less than a fraction of a second.

“Mmm… you're gonna make me wear high collared shirts, aren't you?" he whispers, half shaming your actions, half just thinking out loud. There's a subtle attempt to grind his pelvis up into the space between your thighs.

You can’t help but laugh against him, tilting your head back just enough to inspect your handiwork. There’s a criss-crossed reddish-purple mark marring his skin, a placeholder to remind you where to place your tongue later. “It kinda looks like a heart if you squint. Don’t worry. It’s low enough the only way anyone will see it is if you’re walking around shirtless.”

He sighs, picking his head off the couch and trying to peek down at it. “I guess I’ll look at it later when I’m thinking of you on top of me like this.”

Your pussy clenches around nothing as he smiles innocently at you.

“...Are your hands still cold?” You’re already dragging his limp wrists up your thighs to the hem of your oversized sweatshirt

The hoods of his eyelids shade the glaze in his eyes, but do nothing for the way his jaw falls open as you continue dragging his hands upwards. You hiss as his fingers apply pressure to your body as they travel upward, leaving chilly streaks in their wake. Without hesitation, you chew your lip and cup your hands over his, pressing them into your tits. You look into his eyes for comfort as blood rushes to your cheeks. His pupils are completely blown out and you feel his labored breathing quicken.

“Is this okay?” you question, experimenting with a slight roll of your hips.

His eyelids flutter a moment as he massages your breasts, squeezing, pushing, pulling them. Your hands fall away to let him explore the hidden shapes beneath your sweatshirt.

“Is this okay she asks…” he giggles mockingly to himself before kneading his thumbs across your hardened nipples. “Do you want to know how much I’m enjoying this?”

He drops one of his hands and uses it to place yours over his pelvis. You press down with your fingers, feeling the solid erection tucked into the band of his pants.

“I tried to hide it, tried to get it to go away,” he hushedly admits, teeth briefly nipping at your earlobe. “But I’ve been like this since you walked in here.” He pauses, savoring the way you whimper when he drives his tongue into the valley behind your ear. “And everything you’re doing is making me harder.”

“Jimin…” you moan, feeling his cock twitch under the layers of fabric beneath your fingers.

“You sound like an angel saying my name like that.” Both his hands are back on your breasts, fingers digging into your flesh in ways that have you arching your back.

“An angel? Me?” Your lips curl into a crooked smile. “No one’s ever called me that before.”

As you rub two fingers back and forth over the hard shape in his pants, he clamps down on your ear with his teeth and lets a muffled moan escape with his breath. “You’re right. You’re corrupted. An angel with horns. I swear I can see them.”

“Oh, so I’m a devil now? Make up your mind, will you?” You press your lips into a thin line, trying to conceal the satisfaction in your expression when he pulls back to glare at you. Good thing looks can’t kill. His stare is as icy as the room. Is he legitimately pouting at you for teasing him? He’s the king of teasing; he’s just mad you’re just dishing it back in heaps tonight.

“No, you’re an angel with horns,” he insists, glowering as you continue to stroke him through his pants using just your fingertips. He responds by pinching both of your nipples hard, causing you to cry out and grind yourself down on his thighs. You think about slapping his hands away, but the way his fingers now work soothing circles around the sensitive nubs has you leaning into his touch, aching for more. You roll your hips forward, grazing his dick with your pelvis. But it’s not enough and he can tell.

“You won’t get what you need that way.” He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and leans forward.

You instantly cling to his shoulders, feeling like he’s about to push you off the couch. His hands clutch your back as he safely dips you onto the floor. The way he towers over you as he drops to his knees has you regretting your decision to not wear panties underneath your leggings. The wetness that just gushed out of you is definitely soaking through. You lean back on your elbows, giggling like a schoolgirl as you inch yourself backwards, closer to the heater. Your eyes never leave his form as he grips his t-shirt by the collar and pops it over his head in one swift motion.

You blink, exhaling a held breath as you catch the glint of silver studs protruding from both sides of hardened brown nipples. The piercings come as a surprise, but you’re excited by the thought of clamping your mouth over them. Your eyes continue hungrily scanning the smooth expanse of his chest as he drapes the blanket across his back with a small shiver. A tattoo lines his ribs, scrawled in hasty bold letters: ‘NEVERMIND.’

He smirks, crawling over you and slotting a knee between your legs. Your fingertips gingerly brush across the inked skin in wonder, not able to take your eyes off of it. “Is there meaning behind that?”

You verbalize the thought without thinking, knowing he’s probably been asked that a million times. You know not every tattoo has to have some deep profound meaning, and you feel a little foolish for asking what might be a personal question. But every thump of the heavy beat in your chest tells you that the more you ask, the more you learn, and the harder you fall. You’ve been falling for months now, but at least it’s not such a lonely descent anymore.

He plants a gentle, chaste kiss on your lips before pressing his forehead to yours. “It’s a reminder to not care what other people think.”

“Does it work?” you ask while trailing fingers through his hair. “I feel like I could use that advice daily.”

He laughs, although you swear he looks sad as he thumbs your cheek. “Do you think I would have waited so long to have you like this if it did? I care too much about what others think. I always have. I was scared you’d see what a mess I am and you’d never look at me again. I couldn’t bear the thought.”

Your stomach does a somersault. “I think… You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met. Definitely the hottest.” That pulls a shy grin from him. Your heart is soaring, telling you now is the time to be honest. “Jimin, I... feel happiest when I get to talk to you, even for just five minutes. I love hearing you talk about your granny because it gives me hope that families don’t have to be so messed up. I don’t have parents to call and talk to about my day. I used to be sad about that. Then you started doing laundry on my night. And you always make a point of asking about my day. It’s such a small thing, but it makes me so happy.

“Because you listen to my rambling and instead of calling me dumb or hurrying me to the point of my stories like everyone else in my life, you always look at me like…” you pause, trying to push down the tears you can feel building, but you know your eyes are going glassy because his brow furrows in sympathy.

A subtle frown takes hold of his mouth and his eyes soften, leaving an ache in your chest that makes it harder to go on.

“...like you actually like listening to me. I can’t describe how much that means to me because,” you continue, struggling to breathe and speak at the same time, “I’m used to being ignored or talked over. You’re the first person in a long time to make me feel like I’m not a burden. Or… a grade-A fuckup.” A choked laugh escapes with your held breath. “You think you’re a mess, Jimin, but look at me. I’m a mess. And yet, when I’m with you, I feel like it doesn’t matter. I don’t know how to describe it, but there’s something about you that makes me feel...”

Goddamnit. You’re blowing it. Jimin’s hovering above you, shirtless, after just making out with you and now you’re turning things into a sob-story. Tears well up in your eyes and your throat closes, forbidding you from saying anything else. Are you shaking because you’re cold, or because this is almost too much to handle? You should get up. You should go back to your apartment and cry it out and apologize in the morning.

You push him back and sit up, intending to do just that as the tears in your eyes use gravity to their advantage. You move to wipe your eyes, but Jimin’s fingers catch them right as they begin to streak down your cheek.

“Complete? Less alone?” he wonders, trying to get you to look at him. “I listen to you because you deserve to be heard. You’re funny and cute and smart. And you always have a good story about dogs. How can anyone not want to listen to you?”

He throws his arms around your quivering shoulders, bringing you into a tight hug. “I’m sorry that people have been so cruel, that life has been so unfair to you. But I… will always ask about your day. Not because you need to tell me, but because I want to know.”

He sniffles loudly and your hands fly to his back to comfort him. “Maybe it’s okay that you’re a mess because I am too. Let’s be a mess together, okay?”

He pulls back and now it’s your turn to wipe the tears from his eyes. You share a warm smile when your eyes catch the flash of red lace on his shoulder, making your heart sink into the pit of your stomach.

You gulp as his eyes follow your gaze to your favorite pair of red panties clinging to the fleece blanket. You immediately try to snatch them, but he beats you to them and closes his fist around the lacey material.

“Wow you already took these off for me?” he asks with a sly grin, knowing damn well that they must have stuck to the blanket he briefly tossed into the dryer with your clothes. You stumble over your own knees as you reach out to take them back.

He puckers his lips and feigns surprise, forcing air through his teeth as he raises his eyebrows. “Oh, they’re a little wet!”

You wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole as you snatch them from his grip.

“Don’t be so embarrassing,” you mumble, stuffing them into the pocket of your hoodie.

“But you’re so cute when you get shy.” He goes in for a kiss, but misses your lips as you turn your head away. Not to be dismissed, he moves towards your ear, ghosting his fingertips around your hairline.

“Besides,” he continues, lowering the usual melodic tenor of his voice to a sultry bass, “I know that’s nothing compared to how wet you are for me now.”

He knows. Of course he knows. Ashamed by the truth in his statement, you bury your face into the warmth of his neck, letting a high-pitched whine flee from your throat, which quickly turns into a muffled screech against his skin.

He laughs at the ridiculous sound. You’re so weird. How can you be so weird and still turn him on? “See? You’re so cute. Hey, don’t hide from me!”

He takes the opportunity to slide his hands under your sweater again, fingers pinching the soft flesh of your waist. You bolt upright and grip his wrists like you’re about to snap them in half.

“Such a brat. I take back all the nice things I said,” you whisper, rolling your eyes. Even as the words are coming out, you’re bringing his hands to your chin and kissing the brim of his curled knuckles.

“You can’t,” he weakly drawls, losing himself in your touch.

He walks his fingers over your bottom lip and drums them against the inside of your mouth, watching your lip snap back to you with each slow, alternating swipe. You dart your tongue out to coat the pads of his fingers, wanting to tease the wet heat of your mouth closing down on him. But the way his eyelashes hopelessly batt as he tries to close his eyes and compose himself has you sucking his fingers into your mouth in an instant. Hollowing your cheeks, you trap him in the slick pressure chamber between your cheeks and your tongue. His jaw hangs open as he watches you slowly glide them in and out of your mouth.

An uneven breath hitches in his throat. “Don’t be a tease,” he pleads.

You pause, chest burning as his eyes bore into yours. His fingers coast out of your mouth with a gross popping sound and you kiss the tips of them before speaking, “Then don’t be a brat.”

Pulling the blanket over his shoulders, he wraps an arm around your neck, the weight of his body pressing you back. The distance between you quickly fills with muffled moans and the wet smack of your lips hungrily sliding against one another.

“I want to feel you,” he murmurs between open-mouth kisses, fingers diving under your sweatshirt and slowly working the material up your stomach.

“Me too,” you say, brain short-circuiting as his mouth licks a hot stripe down your neck. “I mean, I want you to feel me too. Not that I don’t want to feel you. I want to feel you. A lot.”

He smiles against your skin. The fabric of your sweatshirt bunches up just below your breasts and he pauses, waiting for a possible objection. “Do you want me to keep going?”

“Please,” you breathe, already wiggling your arms out of the sleeves. Between the chill of the air and Jimin’s sharp inhale, your nipples grow rigid. You’re pretty sure they’re hard enough to cut glass. His eyes roam your chest, drinking in the sight of your beauty just as you finish dragging the sweater over your head. He forces himself to tear his eyes from the sight of your pebbled nipples heaving up and down with each shallow breath your lungs take in.

Blinking a few times, he drags his eyes up and giggles when he sees the static in your hair.

You recoil and quickly criss-cross your arms to cover your chest, mistakenly believing he’s mocking your body. You think you’d be used to people laughing at you by now, but it still catches you off guard. It’s like a swift punch to the gut when you consider your foolish optimism. Armed with knowledge of the meaning behind his tattoo, you truly hoped Jimin could see past the years you spent ripping yourself apart in attempts to please others.

It’s been tough, but you’ve been able to pick up the pieces of your shattered self-esteem since moving away from the city. Leaving behind the hate and negativity binding you back to that world seemed impossible at the time, but you’ve made such progress, such strides away from all that. You’d like to think you possess a resilience, a hard shell that protects you from cruel people now, but it turns out you’re just as soft and vulnerable as ever.

It’s been years of tying ribbons decorated with hope and cheerfulness over the despondency branded into your core. And it feels like everything you’ve worked so hard to become unravels in an instant. You feel like melting into a puddle of tears. You feel like an idiot.

“Are you okay?” His smile falters and the laughter previously ringing throughout the room dies on the tip of his tongue. Anxiety drenches his face as he looks upon you, his stomach flip-flopping with the concerns building in his throat.

“Sorry,” you apologize, unable to hide your shame for not living up to whatever expectations he might have had. Still, you cling to the shred of dignity that remains lodged in the back of your mind. “I know I’m not… Like… The best looking, but it was kind of mean to laugh.”

“Oh…. Oh no… Y/N, I wasn’t laughing at… I would never… I was laughing because of this…” He drops his finger to your nose and you’re shocked by sharp a jolt of electricity. He makes a big gesture around his head to try and explain. “Your hair was fluffy. It was cute.”

He does his best to hide the tremble of his fingers as they brush the hair from your eyes and slowly trace jagged lines down your body. “I think you’re beautiful. And I will never. Ever. Be cruel to you. I will never hurt you.”

“Promise?” you ask, feeling foolish for falling apart so easily under a false assumption.

“I promise,” he insists, innocently brushing his lips against yours.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into both a deeper kiss and embrace. The cold sting of the metal studs at his nipples gives you goosebumps, but the skin-to-skin contact has you moaning into him and craving more. Your tongue plunges into his mouth and he responds with an enthusiastic grind of his hips.

“Fuck,” you pant, already not-so-subtly yanking the fabric of your leggings down.

“Let me help you,” he offers.

Your hands, which have been trying to work the material down your hips without lifting your ass, abandon their efforts in favor of groping the small of his back and lightly massaging the back of his neck. He smiles sweetly, lifting himself up enough to trail a hand down between the two of you, letting it take a detour along the curve of your breasts as it goes. When it finally meets the fabric still gathered just above your sex, he pauses and then dives his fingers below the material instead.

You gasp as he rubs his fingers along your folds, seeking access to the prize hidden beneath. The slick, sticky coating now drenching every bit of your cunt allows him to glide through almost too easily. Suddenly he’s rubbing small, quick circles against your slippery clit and your can’t help but throw your head back against the floor. Lucky for you the carpet softens the blow.

“Does it feel good?” he asks with a pleased hum as his lips close around a pebbled nipple and swathes his tongue over it.

Your head lolls from side to side as you massage your fingertips into the base of his scalp. “So fucking good, Jimin.”

He moans at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue, deciding it’s time to rub your clit with his thumb instead so he can dip his fingers inside you. His knuckles rub against the damp fabric of your leggings as he teases your obscenely wet entrance with a finger. Quickly deciding two is far better than one, he plunges them inside your dripping cunt while keeping a steady pressure on your clit.

You gasp, squeezing your eyes shut as he curls his fingers up to experience the contraction of your walls before he starts languidly pumping those delicate digits in and out of you. Digging into his back with your fingernails and knotting your other hand in his hair, you cry out a sound that makes his cock twitch against his belly.

He drags your nipple through his teeth as he pulls back, watching the jiggle that ripples through your breast before turning his head to rest on it. Suddenly his fingers disappear from your cunt and your walls spasm, weeping at the loss.

“So wet…” he whispers, sliding all of his fingers along your folds and gathering as much of you as he can.

You’re so fucking embarrassed. You’re not just wet, you’re salaciously wet, like a goddamn waterfall of pussy juice. Just as you’re about to apologize, he drags a wet, sticky trail up your belly with fingertips that have been drowned in your essence. You lose the will to speak as he looks up from his resting place on your tits.

“Is this all for me?” he inquires with a face of stone, eyelids half-closed as he spreads his fingers apart to let you see the glistening trails connecting them.

You manage to squeak out a pitiful, “I’m so sorry!”

Why you’re acting like you’ve physically harmed him in some way has him beyond puzzled. “Sorry? But, why?” He blinks, furrowing his brow. “I’ve never had someone this wet for me…. From now on…” he shyly trails off, bringing his fingers to his kiss-swollen lips and flicking his tongue across each one. His voice drops an octave. “I’ll be thinking about this every time I cum.”

With that he dips one into his mouth, eyes fixed on yours. You can’t look away, can’t even blink when he moans, eyelids fluttering as he deeply inhales your scent. “Delicious….”

You watch, speechless as he takes turns plugging his fingers into his mouth until he’s licked them all clean. “You taste sweeter than I imagined, Snow.”

When you don’t react, and stare at him like a terrified deer in headlights, he leans forward and hovers above your mouth. “You okay?”

Smelling yourself on his breath, your eyes close and you pull him into a deep kiss. He already tastes so fucking good. But he tastes heavenly when he’s wearing you on his tongue. “You’re... ” You try to shake the stupor out of your eyes, but you’re so smitten. “Amazing.”

He grins, pressing his lips to your cheek, then your neck, then your collarbone. He swipes his tongue across an area that makes you tense and he decides to revisit it, sucking a red mark of revenge into your flesh.

“I want you so fucking bad. Please, Jimin,” you whimper his name like he’ll take pity on you and climb back up your body to give you another taste of his mouth dripping with your juices.

Instead, your fingernails claw channels into his back as he forgoes the spot at your neck. He descends, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses on every bit of exposed skin he can around both of your tits. “I want...” He laps the sticky trail he previously made with his fingers, following the path from your nipple down to your waist. “To make…” His tongue makes a lazy circle around your belly button before coasting down to the band of your leggings. “You cum for me.”

Your walls try to clamp down on something, anything, but there’s nothing inside your cunt to satisfy the craving driving you mad. You don’t have time to ruminate on this because he’s already yanking your leggings down your thighs, pulling them off and tossing them across the room. Your first instinct is to lock your thighs together to hide yourself from his gaze, but his palms catch your ankles as he moves to slot himself between your legs.

“Finally,” he breathes, running his hands up the inside of your calves, past your knees, slowing when he reaches your thighs. “Can I...?”

He seeks your approval, but you’re already throbbing with need, nodding and biting your lip to keep yourself from screaming yes. “Please, Jimin. Please.”

You tense as he presses his palms into both of your thighs, spreading you wide so he can see your glistening pussy. “Beautiful.”

Your cheeks are on fire, but you don’t have time to dwell on that either because Jimin is diving his tongue into your cunt like a man starved, lapping up your juices with a shameless slurping sound. And it feels like you’ve reached fucking nirvana.

“Oh fuck,” you cry out, tone laced with whiny need. All you can do is twist your fingers around strands of his hair as your head slams back against the floor. If it weren’t for this carpet, you’d probably have a concussion by now.

The more you whimper, the harder he pushes his jaw into you, swiping his tongue into the entrance of your cunt and collecting as much of your sweetness as he can. He flicks his tongue in messy circles along your labia, taking his time as he works his way up to that sensitive bundle of nerves above.

You swear that he must have some sort of supernatural gift for eating pussy because you can already feel the orgasm building in your gut. You flex the muscles of your stomach, trying to will yourself to hold on just a little longer. Clenching your jaw, you tighten your grip in his hair and swallow hard. He groans against you as you tug at his golden locks, sending soft vibrations straight to your core.

The forgotten movie continues playing nearby, but all you can hear are the deep inhales he's taking through his nose as he keeps is mouth clamped down over your clit. The wet squelching of his tongue mixing saliva with your own bodily fluids should be grossing you out, but it fills you with a new wave of desire that pushes you closer to the edge. You've only ever gotten close this fast when you're alone. How much of his soul did he have to sell for this sinful ability?

You moan his name again as you slide one hand to your tit, groping and pinching your freezing nipple in multiple directions. He lifts his mouth to hungrily gasp for air while continuing to sweep his tongue over your vulva. When he catches the movement of your hand tweaking your nipple, he groans and passionately moves his lips over your clit like he's trying to make out with it. Your eyes roll back and you whine loudly as he pulls himself off you long enough to speak.

"You taste so good, " he whispers, sounding out of breath, like he might have been suffocating himself in your cunt for fun. "Does it feel good?"

He brushes his fingertips over your swollen clit, knowing damn well you're pulsing with need. You prop yourself up on your elbows and look down at him. He cocks his head to the side, allowing his hair to fall across his face, waiting for you to answer.

You answer with a roll of your hips, trying to increase the pressure of his fingers on your bud by wrapping your legs around his back. He obliges your need for a moment, basking in the feel of your body desperately grinding onto his fingers, but he pulls them back and tuts at you with a sweet smile on his face. It's subtle but Jimin can feel it: the tremble of your thighs.

No matter how much you try to hide it, he knows. You're already so close that you're literally shaking. Will you beg me, Snow?

His eyes settle on yours as he slowly moves his fingertips back to your clit, only granting featherlight touches until you answer his question. When you push your hips back down for more, he moves his hand away again, grinning like a madman at the frustration staining your features.

Maybe you forgot what he asked. Raising his eyebrows, he trails his fingers up and down your thighs in teasing repetitions, always retracting them the moment he starts to give you what you want. "Tell me it feels good."

"You know it feels good," you whimper as his thumb swipes over your entrance.

"How good?" He stills, hovering his fingers over your clit. You can feel him teasing faint circles over it, denying you any sort of pressure until you answer.

"So fucking good."

He licks his lips, and spreads your folds open with his fingers. "Tell me how much you want me."

"I want you so fucking bad. I can't think about anything else. Please, baby."

A mischievous grin spreads across his face. "Baby…" he parrots back in a whiny voice, mocking you while kissing a line down your inner thigh. He swipes his tongue slowly up your entrance, quickly licking your clit like it's his new favorite flavor of lollipop.

"Jimin, please," you protest, throwing your head back so you don't have to look at him.

"What?" He slows his pace, kissing your swollen bud and rolling it against his tongue, pausing to whisper into you. "Tell me, baby."

With all mockery removed from his tone, the innocent word sounds absolutely sinful falling from his lips. If you're being honest, you never want him to stop saying it.

"You're evil," you breathe. "Please, don't stop."

You squeeze your thighs around his head as he massages his tongue against a particularly sensitive spot.

"Ah…! There! Right fucking there!" Your elbows ache as you try to stay propped up to keep your view of his beautiful face buried in you. "Jimin… Jimin, you're gonna make me cum."

Dark eyes peer up at you, sucking your labia through puckered lips before pausing to pant against you. "I know… Will you touch your pretty body for me, baby?"

Your thighs twitch at the request. He takes the opportunity to slide a finger inside your cunt while he tongues your clit. You lean back even further, mouth silently hanging open like you're about to start wailing. Instead you grab at your breast like it's your lifeline, catching your nipple between shaky fingers. Finally you give up on watching and throw your head back, resting it on the floor and running your fingers through your hair to keep from shoving his head down.

The quiver in your thighs grows stronger and you find yourself involuntarily bouncing to fight the sensitivity mixed in with pleasure. He clamps a hand on your hip to try to keep you from bucking him off the wonderful spot he's found. You clench around his fingers, aching for his return when he lifts his mouth from your clit.

"Look at me," he pleads, reaching his thumb up to tease the place he's left covered in spit.

You struggle to perch yourself on your hands, running on pure adrenaline from the most intense edging of your life. Fingernails dig into the carpet on either side of you, arms shaking like they're made of jello. "Jimin… I can't. Not when you're looking at me like that."

He cocks his head to the side curiously. "I'm not sure what you mean?"

You beg, not as a "please," or "come on," but his name expressed as a hopeless sigh; it sounds criminal when you say it like that.

He cracks a smile. "Let me help you."

He slides the hand currently at your hip around your side and presses against the curve of your back. Slipping his fingers from your cunt, he shoves them into your mouth and forces you to bend forward and watch as he descends to replace them.

"See how good you taste?" He whispers it like it's some forbidden secret he's chosen to share. Not giving you a chance to respond, he works his tongue along every delicate fold he can, savoring the tremor of your form as he turns his attention to that wonderful spot he found earlier.

Release is closing in fast as he batters his tongue against your clit. You mindlessly suck your taste from his fingers, letting a culmination of saliva and your own juices seethe from the corners of your mouth to coat your chest in a messy drizzle.

"Fuuuck," you whimper, bobbing your head over them like they're the cock you're craving. The pleasure between your legs is all-consuming, causing your eyes to water as you clench them shut. You feel your orgasm cresting with each quick swipe of his tongue. You force your eyes back open, fearing he might stop and tease you again if you don't.

"Ahhhhm," you moan as his fingers tug your jaw down and you grind your clit hard against the velvety smooth comfort of his lips. "Gonna cum."

Keeping his dark, hungry eyes locked on yours, he releases a groan that vibrates into your core. Your hips stutter against him and suddenly tense. The only form of movement your body offers is the violent tremor deep in your core as you give in to the crashing waves of your orgasm.

Your sharp intake of breath and heavy, spit-soaked moan is almost enough to make him cum on the spot. The quick battering of his tongue never falters and he lets you ride out the high until your body can process movement again. Aftershocks wrack your core until you're bucking your hips in an attempt to free yourself from the overstimulation.

He considers standing his ground to try and give you another, but he climbs up your body instead. Your arms wobble as he presses himself against you, lips and chin glistening in the low light. Despite the sweat running down his forehead, he shivers when you run your tongue over his lips to commit to memory how good he tastes when he's wearing you.

You reach down, palming his length through his pants, feeling the leaking tip poking out the band at his waist. "I want to make you feel good. Please let me make you cum."

He takes in a ragged breath against your kiss, "I'll be right back."

Before you can process the words, he's gone, leaving you as a panting mess on the floor. The heater sends a flow of hot air towards you but you can still feel the cold nipping at your sweaty skin.

Jimin practically sprints back to you, tearing the condom wrapper open with his teeth. When he sees you lying naked on his floor, he pauses to take in the sight. This better not be a really vivid dream.

You look up and he's looking back at you, smiling in a way that melts the chill off every part of your body. You grin like a smitten fool, unable to focus on anything but his kind eyes, even as he's tugging his sweatpants off and rolling the condom down his shaft.

By the time you realize you have a chance to look at his dick and commit the sight to memory, he's already slotted himself between your legs. He pulls the forgotten blanket over his back and lets the weight of his chest come down on yours.

He brushes the hair from your forehead as you wrap your arms around his form in an intimate embrace. He studies your face a moment, wondering if it's too soon to tell you how much he cares about you. It's the little things over the months he's fallen for, small pieces of you that have burrowed into his heart to build a larger, stronger form of affection. This feeling is more than just a shallow attraction, but will bringing that up make you run away?

It's worth the risk. If you don't feel the same, then he can't bear to have you like this even if his body is screaming for it. It can't be meaningless. Not with you.

He offers a gentle kiss, fingers trembling as they cup your chin. He lets the whisper rest against the surface of your lips. "I love you."

Your heart skips a beat and you hug your arms tighter around him. Love is a strong word. Especially for you. Growing up, you experienced what two people called love for the sake of outward appearances, but it was really only a mask they wore to conceal their hatred of each other. How can you say you love him when you don't even know what real love is like?

He waits for the response buried in your throat, trepidation taking hold of every thought outlining the possibility of reciprocation and twisting it into a mental lashing. Has his sensitivity on this matter really messed it all up? His eyes flicker between yours, pursing his lips and holding back a sigh when the answer doesn't come. He can’t tell what you’re thinking but heaven knows he’s trying to nurture the power of telepathy right now.

You know he wants the truth, whatever it may be. You swallow, chest tight as you try to form the words. You think of the kindness shown by others in your life, all the good experiences mixed in with all the shit life has thrown in your face. Jimin falls into the extremely good category, like the "I didn't know I could feel this good" category. You can't imagine a day going by that you don't talk to him. You don't want to.

"I don't have a good example of love-love to go by," you begin, watching him try to hide the disappointment in his face. "But I'd like to think this is what it's supposed to be."

Tears sting your eyes. Vulnerability is hard, but you're willing to take a chance on him and he realizes how big that is for you. Salty sweet tears of relief run down his cheeks as he kisses away your shared insecurities.

He could spend forever tangled in your embrace, innocently kissing away your worries and fears. Your fingers drag their way through his hair and you rut your hips into him, grinding your pelvises together. Being this intimate is new and exciting, but it's leaving you too vulnerable and is becoming an increasingly prominent source of anxiety.

Gripping the edges of the blanket at his back, you pull it across his shoulder blades as though it will cover the goosebumps speckling your chest. "Mmm. Please don’t make me wait any longer.”

He steadies himself on his elbows, fingers dancing with strands of your hair against the carpet. He rolls his hips against you a few times with a smile, letting his dick slide against your soaked, sensitive clit before lifting back and lining himself up properly.

“Tell me you want me,” he whimpers, the tip of his cock teasing your entrance with shallow taps. You try to lure him in by contracting the muscles in your pussy touching the head, hoping the feeling is enough rather than words. You’re having a hard time with those right now.

“Aaah…” he moans, dipping his head to your neck a moment. “You really are impatient.”

Slowly, he glides himself in about an inch, feeling you tense at the intrusion. The stretch makes you breathe a moan into his ear, causing him to snap his head back up to make eye contact with you. His chest is heaving as he waits, trying to give you time to adjust without blowing his load immediately. The way you’re trying to torture him by squeezing your walls around him is not making things easy.

“More, please,” you sigh, gripping the thick meat of his ass and pulling him towards you. “I want you.”

Finally, he gives in to the pleasure. His eyes roll into the back of his head as he bottoms out in one smooth motion. You squeak a brief sound of satisfaction, enjoying the dark hunger blazing in his eyes when they focus back on your face. He tries to reel the self-control back in, dragging his cock out at a leisurely pace before slowly working it back in. The last thing he wants is to hurt you, for this to be an unpleasant experience. But god. You feel so good. Too good.

“I always want you,” you breathe, hooking your legs around his waist and rolling your hips up to meet his as they come back down.

It’s difficult to think when you’re such a gorgeous mess beneath him. With your eyebrows knitting together, jaw hanging open, an apologetic look in your eyes as your hand shoots up to grip the back of his neck for better leverage to thrust yourself back up at him: you’re the epitome of perfection. His pace quickens with a spike of adrenaline surging through his veins. Soon his mouth hangs open, mirroring yours as he’s overwhelmed with the sensation of your tight, wet hole squeezing his cock like it’s the only place it’s ever needed to belong.

“J-Jimin,” you whine, looking down to catch the way your own tits press together, bouncing in unison with your writhing bodies. You try to see past your tits, hoping to catch a glimpse of his length disappearing inside of you, but the shadows cast by the blanket make it hard to see much of anything. So you drag your eyes back up to meet his, absolutely destroyed by the wonder painted all over his features. He’s looking at you like you’re the most perfect human he’s ever seen.

Because you are.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, bringing his open mouth down over yours.

With your tongues duking it out with each other, he pistons his cock into you with a vigor unlike anything you’ve experienced in your life. The squelching of your pussy while being mercilessly pounded is background noise to the sound of his balls slapping against your ass. You groan a garbled sound into his mouth, trying to remember how to breathe and process pleasure at the same time.

He moves to your neck, latching onto a sensitive spot immediately. This combined with the weight of him pressing down on your chest has you heaving, exposing more of your neck for him to explore. Your sweaty bodies slide against each other and you roam your fingers through his damp hair, savoring the feel of his tongue gliding up and down your neck until he settles on a place that makes you curl your fingers around those strawberry blonde locks.

You never thought you’d feel safe like this, and yet here you are. You’re about to lose yourself in the emotional implications of your progress when he slips right out and thrusts up against your clit, immediately apologizing. You cry out at the loss, wishing he could fill you up all day every day for the rest of your life. Because without him you feel so empty.

He chuckles nervously. “Slippery… Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

You smile, placing a small kiss on his lips. “I’m fine. But I think you’re working too hard. Why don’t you relax?”

You place a hand on his chest, facilitating the switch in your positions. Jimin rolls flat on his back with a grin, blanket trapped beneath him. There’s nothing to hide behind now. You finally take in the sight of his cock standing at attention, its beautiful girthy form being suffocated within the cream-covered condom. It’s a perfect size. Not too big. Not too small. Most of all it’s wide enough to fill you up, and so fucking delicious-looking. You could pop the condom off and take him into your mouth right now. He must see the thought cross your mind as you lick your lips because he grabs your wrists and guides you up to meet his face.

“Come back to me. Your Prince Charming would like to kiss you,” he coaxes in a cloyingly sweet tone. “There will be time to kiss me elsewhere later.”

“Oh, you’re my Prince Charming?” You can’t help but smile. He makes your heart swell with joy, even when he’s being a brat. “How long have you been holding onto that one?”

“Since the day I decided you were Snow White,” he says breathlessly.

“I told you that animals don’t actually like me as much as you think they do. Birds poop on me all the time.”

“And I told you Granny says that’s good luck.” He presses his lips to your cheek and grabs your waist. “I just wanted to sweep you off your feet,” he sheepishly admits, eyes darting away for a moment.

You straddle his waist, aligning yourself with his cock. “And tell me, what do you want now?”

“I want…” His eyes glaze over as he feels you sink down, grunting a weak “please” when you’re flush with his pelvis, unmoving. His hands link themselves with yours as you lean over him. Instead of looking anywhere else or trying to get you to move your hips, he stills and looks deep into your eyes. “I want to be your happily ever after, my lovely princess.”

His words catch you off guard and tears begin falling with your stunned blinks. He’s always looked at you like a princess, hasn’t he? It doesn’t matter how screwed up you may feel, or even how screwed up you actually are. He loves you. He cares for you. And he wants you to see what he sees so badly that he will point the mirror on the wall towards you every day until you see that you truly are the fairest of them all.

“Please don’t cry,” he says, wiping the tears from your cheeks. There are already tears forming in his eyes too. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I am,” you smile, lowering yourself to press your chests together. His arms wrap around you, offering comforting strokes with his fingertips against your back. His cock is still buried in your pussy and it’s distracting. He would love nothing more than to thrust up into you and spill himself in your guts.

“Tell me you love me,” you beg in a hushed whisper, kissing him like he’s the only form of oxygen you’re going to get for the rest of the night.

“I love you,” he whispers back between greedy, sloppy kisses.

You roll your hips, granting the movement he’s been craving as you slowly bounce on his cock. When he groans you clench around him and pick up your pace, hoping that you’re not as sloppy as you feel. Between the tears and the emotions swirling in your chest, your hips are a stuttering mess. If you are being a terrible top, he doesn’t say anything. He rocks himself with your slow, fucked out pace, hitting a heavenly spot inside you with each pivot your hips make to meet his again.

“I love you,” he repeats into the air as you lean back and steady yourself by placing your palms on his chest. He squeezes his eyes shut as you begin a new, rapid tempo that threatens to make him cum in seconds. He slurs out a whine of incoherent sounds, indicating you’re bringing him closer to the edge of release.

The shy, proud grin spreads across your face like wildfire as you watch him physically struggle to compose himself. “Got a big load for me, Charming? Or is it reasonably-sized?”

His face is flush and those big black pupils are dilated so wide you can’t tell them apart from the irises anymore. He wants to tell you to slow down so he can drag this out some more, but his climax is racing the words trapped in his throat. He grabs your hands and pulls you down close to him so he can kiss you again and again.

“Y/N… Ah…. I can’t....” He’s sucking air through clenched teeth between kisses, trying his best to push back the tightness in his balls.

“It’s okay, Jimin. Let go. Cum for me.”

With that he quickly wraps his arms around your waist, digging his fingernails into your sides as he takes control from beneath you, fucking you hard and fast as he chases his release. Your body shakes as he relentlessly thrusts those sinful hips upwards in quick, powerful strokes, holding you in a tight embrace like you might float away if he loosens his grip. You moan into each other’s mouths, the muffled sounds mingling as you crash your tongues against one another.

“I love you,” he whispers again, desperately this time.

“I love you too,” you respond breathlessly, doing your best to keep up with the insane tempo he’s set.

“Oh,” he quickly gasps, unable to fight the curse on the tip of his tongue. “Baby… Fuck... I’m cumming.”

The rhythm of his thrusts somehow increases in speed and you’re relieved to hear him gasp out the affirmation of his release. A small part of you is worried you won’t be able to take much more, even though you really want to; it’s been some time since anything has been between your legs that didn’t run on batteries. This is so much better.

Needy moans spill into your mouth with your name on repeat between breaths. He pumps himself into you with one last burst of power. Once. Twice. Three times. His hips shake beneath yours and fall limp against the floor as he chews on your bottom lip. Jimin cumming is hottest fucking thing you’ve ever experienced in your life and tonight you’ve heard it twice.

He allows your lip to snap back to you and plants a kiss on your forehead before rolling you over onto your back and slipping himself from inside of you. “Will you stay here tonight?”

You nod with a tired smile. “If you still want me.”

“I always want you,” he whispers with a shy kiss to your cheek. “The bed’s a bit more comfortable though.”

“I really didn’t mean to say it,” Jeongguk whines, face buried in his hands as he sits on Jimin’s couch.

Jimin puffs his cheeks, sparing a glance at the clock on his phone. He made plans to watch a movie with you once you got home from work. And by watch a movie, he means to disregard the movie as background noise and fuck you senseless. What he didn’t plan on was his friend stopping by for an impromptu therapy session; it happens often enough that he usually is prepared for such an event. But there’s only been one thing on his mind for the past week, and it’s been bent over every surface in this apartment every day the moment you get home. He’s eager to keep that streak going.

You’ll be home soon and Jeongguk doesn’t show any signs of leaving. Jimin decides to text you, letting you know the door is still unlocked, but he has company so don’t come running in while tearing your shirt off unless you want to entertain them both. He smiles when he hits send, eager for a response. It’s at this moment Jeongguk looks up at his friend, realizing he’s enamored with his phone.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Jeongguk looks crushed, sinking back into the cushion and rubbing his thumbs over the yellow plush dog Yoongi had constructed for Jimin at work. Its silky fur is comforting to Jeongguk, but not enough to soothe the ache in his heart. He fucked things up with this new teacher and he really doesn’t know how to smooth things over. Where does he even begin?

“I’m sorry,” Jimin says, quickly pocketing his phone and making sure Jeongguk knows he has his full attention. He places a hand on his knee and squeezes. “It’s okay. Just apologize to her.”

"How can I do that when every time I talk to her I can't even think straight? I mess up everything that I do when she's around," he groans, clearly resigned to his own hopelessness.

"How can you possibly mess up two words?" Jimin asks, quirking an eyebrow at his friend. He reaches for Jeongguk's jaw and begins practicing ventriloquy as he opens and closes it in time with his advice. "I'm. Sorry."

Jeongguk playfully slaps his hand away, "It's not that easy and you know it." He sighs heavily. “Besides. You know me. I already messed up an apology. ”

The smile falls from Jimin’s face. “What happened now? Don’t tell me it’s worse than the balls conversation.”

Jeongguk tents his fingers on either side of his temples and inhales deeply. On exhale he screeches, memory replaying his most recent mistake one more time.

“...That bad, huh?” He frowns, crossing the room to get him a beverage.

Jeongguk runs his fingers through his hair a few times before he snatches the banana milk from Jimin. He’s just gotta focus on something else. Anything else. He starts chugging the bottle, milk spilling from the corners of his mouth.

“Hey, slow down. I’m gonna be sick if you throw that stuff up.”

Jimin reaches for the small, plastic jug but it’s already empty by the time Jeongguk allows him to take it.

Jeongguk whimpers, “Not even banana milk can fix this.”

“Jeongguk. Tell me what happened.” It’s rare that Jimin ever gets stern with any of his friends, but sometimes they have a habit of getting in their own heads. He can pull them out by telling them what they need to hear, even if it isn’t always nice. He’s got a nagging feeling in his gut that this might be one of those times.

His friend leans back into the couch with palms pressed against his forehead. “I whipped a tennis ball across the court, but it fucking went out the door to the hall and hit her while she was walking by.”

“It was an accident!” Jimin insists.

“I know! But she! Doesn’t!” He pounds his hands into his forehead like it can knock the memory from his brain.

“Why not?” Jimin asks, suddenly suspicious. “What did you do when you realized you’d thrown something at someone? You apologized, right? Right?”

Jeongguk grits his teeth a subdued screech in his throat. “I ran over when I heard her scream and I was panicking so I just! I said ‘I’m so fucking sorry!’”

“That’s good--”

“And ‘Are you okay?!’”

“Sounds like you did fine---”

“But my brain couldn’t decide which one to say first so it merged them together! And I screamed at her!”

“Oh no.”

“Are you fucking sorry?! I screamed it Jimin. Are you fucking sorry! All of my students standing there watching me have a mental breakdown when she’s the one hurt.”

He’s practically in tears, damn near hysterical. Jimin offers a sympathetic grimace before going in for a big, comforting hug.

“Jeonggukie, it’s okay.”

“Not it’s not! I can never face her again. I can never face my students again. I’ve never been more embarrassed in my life.”

Jimin squeezes him tighter. “You’ll get through this though. You know how I know?”

“How?” The words are muffled when spoken into the crook of his neck.

Jeongguk has buried himself dangerously close to the spots you’ve been claiming for yourself. He hopes his friend doesn’t notice the red bruises you’ve left behind.

“Because. I can think of a million other things that you’ve done that are way more embarrassing than this. And you’ve lived through them all. If anything your students will see you as someone they can relate to.”

“And Frizzle?”

“You have to do something genuinely nice for her and express your sincerest apologies. Take her somewhere nice for dinner. Admit you screwed up and you want to make things better. Explain how your life is a chain of embarrassing experiences. Tell her some stories of your other fails so she doesn’t think you’re being cruel. If you can’t think of any, I can make you a list. I really do remember things you’ve done that are worse than this, you know. ”

“No! No. I guarantee I’ve blocked them out for a reason.” The black-haired man sighs. He seems to at least be comforted by the thought that the situation isn’t totally unsalvageable. He stands with a lopsided smile. “Thanks, Jiminie. I love you.”

Jimin’s mouth curls into a smile as he goes in for one more hug. “You never forget to pay me, Jeonggukie.”

Jeongguk steps across the threshold and is greeted by the very woman he’s been complaining to Jimin about for the better part of an hour. Every muscle in his body tenses and freezes in place. She’s just come out of the apartment next door. Jimin cocks his head at his friend, curiously watching the blatant change in body language.

“What is she doing here?” Jeongguk hisses at Jimin like the woman isn’t standing close enough to hear.

“Of course you’d be here. Don’t worry, Mr. Jeon, I’m on my way out, unless you’ve got something else to pile on to my hazing?”

Jeongguk clamps his mouth shut and tries to move out of her way, but she moves in the same direction. Both of them immediately try to go around, mirroring each other’s actions. This must be her. Jimin rubs his temple as he watches the awkward dance Jeongguk and “Frizzle” do as she tries to move past him. For a tall, muscular guy, Jeongguk seems to shrivel in stature the longer he stands there looking at her, stuttering out half of an apology before finally gripping her shoulders like he’s going to pick her up.

“Please let me go,” he murmurs, swallowing hard, despite the fact that he’s the one with his hands on her.

Jimin runs his fingers down his cheeks like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Jeongguk’s aloof nature seems to have been amplified tenfold by the presence of this woman, which is an impressive feat. He’s got it so bad for this girl he really can’t think straight.

Jeongguk takes a deep breath and books it down the hallway, forgetting about his friend entirely. He gets to the stairwell and hunches over the bannister to screech like a pterodactyl, hoping to release some of the anguish tearing at his chest. He sighs, composing himself as he ascends the steps, patting his pockets for the comfort of escape. His heart drops. That familiar jingle of keychains and metal is missing. “My keeeeeeys!”

It’s then he realizes he’s going to have to walk back past you in shame to collect the missing item from Jimin’s apartment. Jimin wishes he could undo all of the secondhand embarrassment he just experienced. Being that this will be burned into his memory for some time, he slinks into your apartment for a healthy dose of distraction.

The scent of cinnamon and vanilla hang in the air. You've been baking to keep yourself busy. You thought about asking your guild if anyone wanted to play online for a bit, but you really weren't in the mood for video games. You knew what to expect and yet you still find yourself disappointed by the lack of Holiday cards and letters.

Even if they don't give a shit about you, you still find your heart breaking, wishing you could know if your parents are doing okay. Maybe they're finally getting better. Maybe they're finally getting that divorce they desperately need. You whisk the batter, losing yourself in a sea of possibilities, regardless of whether it matters in the first place.

Then again, maybe they're doing better now that they don't have you around to use as a point of contention. They could be happy now that the supposed source of their misery is absent from their life. Your jaw tightens along with your grip on the mixing bowl cradled in your arms.

They probably don't think about you at all. How many times had you walked back from school alone in the dark because they forgot to pick you up? How many times had they straight up forgot you existed? They don't care. They don't even think about you. In fact, they're probably so drunk mom is passed out on the couch and dad is in a similar position in his office with a bottle of scotch and a nub of a burnt out cigarette hanging from his mouth.

You're mixing quickly, scraping loudly against the ceramic bowl in an attempt to drown out the anger in your head. It might not be enough to cover your incessant thoughts but it sure as hell camouflages Jimin's approach.

You bite your lip, white hot tears stinging the corners of your eyes. It's stupid. Why do you care so much when they obviously don't? You feel manic having the day off of work. There's too much time to think now that you don't have your customers to dote on and care for. You don't realize how slippery your fingers are now that they’re coated in a layer of sweat. The bowl slips from your hands and shatters against the floor, coating your floor and feet in a pasty splatter of dough.

“Are you okay?” Jimin asks, scooping his arms around your waist and dragging you away from the mess.

You nearly jump out of your skin when you feel his embrace pulling your backwards, voice vibrating in your ear. You stumble backwards, losing traction over the spilled batter. He’s careful to get you away from the shards of glass littering the kitchen tile as you fall.

“I thought you had work to do,” you say, embarrassed by your lack of finesse.

“I finished up early. I… knocked but you didn’t answer,” he replies, taking a moment to inspect your face.

The mixture intended for cookies haphazardly sprinkles your cheeks and your eyes are still glossy from the tears gathered in them moments ago.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, concern dripping from the two simple words.

You hate making him worry so you force a counterfeit smile to split your lips. “Nothing!”

“I can tell you’re lying,” he insists, wiping your face with his fingers. “It’s okay. You can talk to me.”

You hang your head low and press into his shoulder. “I was just thinking about my family. Please. It’s not important.” Another phony smile adorns your features as you look up at him. “But I’d like it very much if you could take my mind off it.”

He offers a warm smile and decides not to press further. He knows enough of your past to know you’d rather not speak on it unless you’re the one offering information. Despite the curiosity nagging at the corners of his mind, he plants a kiss on your lips instead. “Any requests?”

“Take me away from my own brain.”

He giggles, ready to make you forget every word you’ve ever learned that’s not his name, but he pauses, briefly recalling the reason he stopped by in the first place. “Oh wait. I wanted to ask you about that.”

You half-laugh, half-scoff. “It’s okay. I’ve accepted there’s no escape.”

Jimin shakes his head at you. “No, I mean would you like to get away from here for the night? My friends and I go to Taehyung’s parents’ cabin every year on New Years Eve. It’s like a little tradition.”

You blink at him. “Oh you mean Mr. Kim--er,” you correct yourself when he cringes. “Tannie’s dad? Wouldn’t it be weird if I showed up? I don’t want to intrude… And I would feel so awkward not knowing any of your friends.”

“They’re all really laid back. They’re like an extended family. Let me tell you about them,” he suggests, twining his fingers in yours and waving your hands around. “The drive to the cabin takes a couple hours. That’s plenty of time to give you a history lesson.”

“I don’t know…”

“You know,” he begins, swiping his batter-coated finger with his tongue. “Granny says it’s good luck when you kiss someone you love on New Year’s Eve at midnight.”

You roll your eyes, fighting the cheesy grin you feel coming on. “Is that so?”

He nods enthusiastically, sparing a glance at the shards of glass and spilled batter scattered across your kitchen floor. “Besides, what better way to keep your mind off of... everything?”

The man can be subtle when he wants to be, but you still follow his line of sight to the mess creeping down the slight slope in the tile.

“I have to sweep this up,” you mumble, ignoring giving him a finite answer as you cross the room to gather cleaning supplies.

There’s a protest caught in his throat that dies the moment you bend over to search for the dustpan in the closet. He saunters over, licking his lips and letting his fingers dig into the soft flesh at your hips. Your eyes go wide as his length presses against your ass, already half hard. He offers a playful thrust as a joke, but if you drop your pants then the joke part of that thrust is totally cancelled. You sigh loudly and arch your back, slowly rising to looking over your shoulder at him. He swears time stops for a moment as half-lidded eyes chant his name without you saying a word.

“I really have to clean this up. It’s wet. The-The spot on the floor is wet.” You stumble over raspy and frantic words, all the moisture missing from your mouth. He tests your resolve by sneaking a finger below the band of your jeans, skirting his digits just outside of your underwear before pressing the silky fabric into your clit. With just a few slow circles, he has you moaning and weakly leaning back against him for support.

“You’re right. It’s a little wet. I should help you clean this up, don’t you think?” His breath is hot against your neck as he dips his hand lower, sneaking along your pantyline before pushing the barrier aside to dive in your cunt without warning.

You’re practically melting as he pumps his fingers into you, tongue dragging over your neck in a teasing swipe. It takes all of your willpower, but you grip his forearm with a groan. “You’re evil.”

“I’m Charming,” he insists with a grin, complying with your unspoken request to abandon his endeavors.

“I need to clean this before it gets in every last crack.”

Jimin opens his mouth to say something crass but gets distracted by your smiley kiss.

“We’ll get to that later. Go. Sit over there,” you instruct, pointing to the empty chairs on the other side of the bar-style counter.

He sulks over to the counter and sits with a huff, planting his elbows on the edge and resting his cheeks on the flat surface of his palms. It’s hard to ignore his bottom lip protruding in a pout as you get to work cleaning the mess you’ve stupidly made. Hard, but not impossible.

When it’s clear you’re ignoring him, he sits up straight and folds his arms over his chest, a puff of air passing his lips as he takes in his surroundings. Suddenly, his eyes zone in on the familiar form of a package containing delicious pastries only made in one shop.

“Mistledough? You went to Mistledough?” he asks excitedly. You must have met Jin, if that’s the case.

You laugh, “Oh yeah. I stopped in to get some baked treats for the pups a couple weeks ago and this smooth-talking guy comes out from the back with a big smile. His shoulders are so big and his waist is so tiny that he looks like a dorito. Right? Anyway he’s doing this whole bit about how good this stuff is and how happy he gets when pretty girls come into his shop to order it. He definitely knows how to advertise because I bought a whole package of them without even trying it first. It’s… so good though. Have you ever had it? What I have now might be a little stale, but I’m sure it’s still fine to eat. Do you want some?”

You poke your head above the counter to see Jimin’s arms crossed over his chest. He isn’t looking at you but he definitely looks annoyed. Is he seriously still pouting because he has to wait ten whole minutes to put his fingers back in you?

“No,” he pouts quietly, entire demeanor flip-flopped in an instant. “I don’t want any. I know what it tastes like.

You frown, thinking maybe it’s something you said. “Do you not like that place?”

Jimin puffs his cheeks out and removes the thick black frames from his face to clean them with his shirt. “No, that place is fine.”

Anxiety races in your chest, heart snapping in two at the sound of his cold tone. “I’m sorry,” you say, gripping the dustpan tightly like he’s going to break things off. “Is it… Did I do something wrong?”

He catches your eyes, immediately filling his gut with guilt. “Ah, no, no. I’m sorry.” He licks his lips and rolls his eyes away, not wanting to look at you when he admits this. “It’s just… That handsome, wide-shouldered guy... That’s Seokjin. He’s my friend, but--Ah the way you talked about him just now, I got jealous. I’m sorry.”

Relief washes over you like a tidal wave. You cock your head to one side and stand to lean over the counter. No one’s ever been jealous of you before, or in regards to you; it’s kind of baffling that you don’t have the brain capacity to be flattered. “Jealous? Why?”

He spares a look at you and darts his eyes away. “Because.” He sighs loudly and slinks back in his chair. “He’s tall and those big shoulders let everyone know how strong he is. People can look at him and say wow, that guy is so handsome. He just… exudes manliness. Do you know what people say about me?”

The slow blink and the way he swallows tells you that he’s having trouble expressing the distasteful things he must have heard over the years.

“Jimin.” Your fingers grip his chin. “Nevermind what people say. They don’t matter. Do they?”

You tilt your head, trying to get him to look at you, gaze remaining steady on his eyes until he meets it.

“No…”

“You matter. But you’re hard on yourself. Do I matter?”

“Yes…” he breathes, offended that you’d even ask such a question.

“Well then you should listen to me. I’ll tell you what I think. I think you’re sweet and cute. I think you’re sexy and fun. I think I love the beauty of your soul as much as I love your handsome face. I think your height is not a measure of your worth and I’m not sure why it’s important to you, but I will hug you all day every day to remind you that you’re the perfect height to always bury your face in my tits.”

He laughs, visibly relaxing despite the blush creeping in his cheeks. “You’re good to me.”

“I think,” you continue, suddenly feeling shy yourself. “You don’t have anything to be jealous about. This world only has one Jimin. One who is perfect as himself. And I care about him so much that I want to go with him to a cabin where I won’t know anyone because when he’s around, my heart hurts less and the world feels less cold and when I’m with him, despite my paranoia and concerns about being murdered... he makes me feel safe. I love him.”

He smiles sweetly, leaning in to plant a kiss on your lips. “Who’s that Jimin? He sounds amazing. But I’ll have to teach him a lesson for stealing your affection.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head, nuzzling your nose close to his. “You dork.”

“You’re coming with me then?”

“It’s a date, my prince,” you reply with a grin.

“Thank goodness. I already cancelled my ride.”

The snow whips against your windshield wipers. Heat blares through the vents, the radio playing softly in the background. Jimin looks over at you, placing his hand on your thigh. You smile, giving it a firm squeeze and pressing it to your lips while your eyes squint through the blinding white obscuring the road.

“Do you see a sign to get back on the highway?” you ask, trying to bite back the anxiety brewing in your belly.

The “EXIT ONLY” sign responsible for your detour had been obscured by the heavy snowfall. Being that the inclement weather has put you in an unfamiliar area, you’re hopeful that the poorly plowed backroads are a short-lived side trip.

“Don’t worry. There has to be a way to get back on,” he assures you, giving your fingers a squeeze as he squints out the passenger side window. “Oh! That sign says there’s a gas station ahead. Maybe we could ask in there?”

You eye the instrument panel of your dashboard. The needle indicating the fuel level of your tank hovers two lines above “E.” You promptly go back to watching the road, wind whipping snow off nearby trees. You’re taking it slow as you come around a curve, but your tires spin when they hit a patch of ice.

“Oh shit!” Releasing his fingers, you throw your arm up to shield Jimin’s chest as do your best to turn your steering wheel into the skid as the vehicle veers off the side of the road.

The car makes a skewed slide to the shoulder of the road and continues to glide onto the snow-covered grass, coming to a complete stop before hitting any of the nearby trees. You exhale a ragged breath and look over at Jimin.

“Are you okay?”

He nods, carding his fingers through his hair. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” Your response is sturdy, composed, but its foundation is a lie that could come crumbling down at any moment. Shaky fingers reach over to click the hazard button in the unlikely event that anyone else drives by. You haven’t seen another car in over twenty minutes, but it’s still best to err on the side of caution.

“Just icy. Gas station?” you ask, trying to get your bearings. You don’t think the car did a 180 but you’re a little shaken up and could use a break.

Jimin points in the direction the sign indicated. “Not too far, I think. Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nod silently, checking your surroundings as you attempt to back up. The wheels beneath the car spin in endless cycles, bringing you nowhere. You swallow hard, turning the wheel in the opposite direction and trying again as you apply more force to the gas pedal. When the car doesn’t budge, you fear the worst and place it in park. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you slip on a pair of thin gloves and open the door to inspect the terrain.

With your first step outside your stomach drops with your legs on the slippery surface below your boots. You clutch the door but it’s too late; your legs split and you fall to the ground with a painful smack. You can’t help the pained whimper that spills out of your mouth in short, embarrassing bursts. You’ll be fine. You just need a minute.

“Snow! Are you okay?” Hearing your cries, Jimin quickly dons his mittens and gets out of the car.

As soon as he rounds the front of the car, passing the light on the driver’s side, his boots lose all traction. He stumbles forward a bit, trying to regain his footing before his legs finally slip from beneath him. The impact his ass makes on the ground beside you makes you wince. He grimaces, sucking air through his teeth as he leans back. Even still, he reaches out and touches your cheek with a puffy red mitten, opening his mouth to ask if you’re okay but not able to manage anything other than a broken groan.

You look up at him as he leans over you, feeling the fingers trapped beneath the fuzzy mitten at your cheek. Suddenly you start to giggle. Despite not knowing the source, seeing your amusement causes the groan in his throat to transform into a breathless laugh.

“We really are messes, huh?” you say, pulling down on the red scarf adorning his shoulders to bring him down to meet your lips.

His mouth is hot, leaving behind breathy vapors in the air as he sucks your bottom lip, turning the innocent nature of the kiss into something more passionate. Before your brain can register the action, his tongue already propping your mouth open. If the wind wasn’t whipping snow on your exposed cheeks, he might have been able to keep you warm and make you forget your surroundings completely.

Reluctantly you push him back. “Jimin we have to get up. What if another car comes and rear ends us? We would die.”

He sighs, wincing as he struggles to stand on the slippery surface. “Okay, but be careful getting up.”

He circles the car, inspecting for any signs of damage as you crawl on hands and knees towards the front of the car. Placing your cheek on the ground you look beneath to see if anything might be caught underneath. When you both come up empty, you carefully get back in the car.

Jimin looks over at you suddenly, an expression of realization coating his features. “Did you turn traction control off?”

You slowly close your eyes and run cold, wet gloved fingers down your face. “I’m an idiot. I should have thought of that.”

Jimin shrugs and kisses your cheek with a proud smile. “I just passed my driver’s test so it’s all fresh in my mind.”

Before long, you’re back on the road and rolling up to a pump at the gas station. Jimin disappears inside while you work on filling the tank. It’s filling painfully slowly so you start playing with the layer of snow on the top lip of the pump. You begin to gather snow, picking some from the ground and rolling it around to form a tiny, perfect snowball.

The bell on the door jingles as Jimin exits, a look of concentration on his face as he looks up and down the road beside the lot. An abrupt wave of cold shocks his system as a snowball disintegrates against his chin. He looks around for the culprit, but the only person in the parking lot is you. He blinks a few times, realizing you’re cackling like a witch as you screw the cap back on your tank.

Instead of forming his own snowball to throw back, his bottom lip protrudes in a pout and he puffs up like a bird who’s had their feathers ruffled one too many times. He must still be sore from falling. You start to feel guilty and start to apologize as he draws near, pulling him into an embrace. He leans into you, walking you back until you’re pressed against the car. You blush, feeling the weight of his body trapping you as he pushes his mouth onto yours. He removes a glove to fist your hair between his fingers and gives a sharp tug. Once again, he takes the warmth you offer and turns the heat up. Is this what he’s like when he’s annoyed and horny? You’ll remember to be bratty if this is what it earns you.

You pull back a moment, searching the darkness in his eyes for the need buried in them. Pulling his scarf aside, you latch onto his neck with the heat of your mouth, making sure to suck and tease the spot you know drives him crazy. You feel him lean into you with a moan as he swipes his hand erratically over your car. Feeling pleased with yourself, you grind your hips up into him.

You don’t see the snow he’s gathered into a pile on the top of your car, but you sure as hell feel it when swipes it all over the edge with one hand and holds the collar of your coat open with the other. The snow transforms into water almost immediately, leaving icy trails down your back and soaking into your clothes.

You screech against him just as he takes off running across the parking lot, giggling like a madman. He played you. You wiggle what snow you can out of your coat and give chase, gathering snow in your hands as you go. He holds his hands up as if to surrender and repeating a slew of “sorry”s, but something about the way he’s laughing the whole time makes it feel a bit disingenuous. Soft snowballs smash against his legs. You wish you had better aim.

As you move to gather more snow, he’s already firing off the ammunition he’s secretly gathered, pelting your coat with white. Running up to him through the barrage, you find he’s empty and he puts his hands out again. Seeing the snowbank behind him, you push him back into it, allowing a cushion of cold to break his fall. The melody of his laughter rings through your ears as your climb on top of him and sprinkle what’s left of your fistful of powdery snow all over his face.

You’re both laughing so hard you’re crying. After taking a moment to calm his laughter, he sits up on his elbows and removes a loop from the scarf at his neck to drape it around yours.

“Come on. Let’s get to the cabin so we can warm up.”

You wet your lips, the cold immediately freezing your spit. “What you’re not warm?”

“You pushed me into the snow. I’m cold,” he whines.

“You covered me in white,” you say, not thinking about the words until they’re out.

Jimin quirks an eyebrow with a knowing smile. “I thought you liked that. You were begging for it yesterday, weren’t you?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“You’re friends with Hope on the Street? J-Hope? Really?” you ask in disbelief. The guy is somewhat of a celebrity so it’s a little unnerving knowing he’s going to be at this cabin. The segment he did on puppies recently really brightened up your day.

“His real name is Hoseok,” Jimin says with a nod, crunching into a potato chip. “He also goes by Hobi.”

You can’t stop yourself from asking. “That whole dildo thing everyone says? Is it true?”

Jimin coughs out the chip he had been chewing and you immediately apologize, but he laughs. “What have you heard? I’m not much of a gossip.”

You shake your head defensively. “I’m not either! It’s just… There are so many rumors. I’ve heard it was a vibrator, cucumber, a cordless mic… And it’s always an absurd length, like twelve inches or something like that.”

Jimin laughs so hard he snorts. “Oh my god. No! Okay, I’m going to tell you the truth, but you can’t tell anyone I told you, okay?”

“...Okay,” you agree, not realizing the pit you’ve fallen into.

“If you promise you won’t tell…” he trails, looking out the window.

“I pinky promise,” you say as you stick out your little finger. You’re too curious now. You have to know.

“Don’t let on that you know, either,” he continues as he links his pinky with yours and looks over at you. “Promise?”

Your eyes dart over to his for a split second before focusing back on the road. “I promise, my prince.”

He smiles, taking the opportunity to hold your hand while he talks. “Hmm. By the time we get there hopefully you’ll feel like you know them a little. I’ve told you some pretty tame stories so far but… The truth is that we’ve all known each other since we were kids. So I know all of their dirty laundry.”

He wiggles his eyebrows at you even though you can’t pay attention to his suggestive facial expressions. Why do you feel like you’re getting more than you bargained for?

“You’re such a dork. Just tell me about J-H--Hoseok.”

“So impatient,” he teases with a sigh. “I mean honestly it’s not that bad. Hoseok and his girlfriend, Cat, have been together for a while now. They were… experimenting in the bedroom together. The dildo they were using was pretty small and she lost her grip on it. That’s really all there is to it. Someone must have heard him talking to the nurses.”

That makes total sense. Of course everything gets blown out of proportion. Poor guy.

“Don’t worry, he hasn’t let it get to him at all. He keeps a smile on and can talk around pretty much everything. But when you put him with Cat, together? They have no shame and if you’re not careful they’ll drag you into their filthy games.”

“Have they dragged you into them, Jimin?” you ask with a smile, genuinely curious with a side pang of envy. Whoever is dating someone as fine as J-Hope must be hot as hell. Just imagining Jimin being thrown into that mix has you salivating, wishing you could have been the meat in that sandwich instead.

“Maybe,” he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. “B-But that was a long time ago.”

“Too bad,” you suck your teeth. “Sounds like it could be fun.”

Jimin’s eyes go wide and he swallows a nervous laugh, not wanting to accept the possibility so easily if it was only meant as a joke. “I mean if you’re interested I can always ask if they might want to.”

You laugh nervously, not expecting that possibility. “I… haha, let me meet them first. They might hate me for all you know. I tend to talk when I get nervous and then mess everything up.”

“It’s part of your charm. You’re cute when you get shy. You have this… innocence that’s endearing. They’ll love you. You’d probably be their new favorite... toy...” he trails off into a breathy whisper, losing himself in some daydream.

“Are you sure you won’t get jealous?” you ask, snapping him back to reality. “Mistledough man had you so moody.”

“Ah, Seokjin. You know, I once caught him jerking it to a muffin.”

You blink a few times. “Seokjin is the bakery dorito,” you affirm, keeping your eyes on the highway. “And you caught him jacking it … Jimin. Tell me mistledough is cum-free.”

He laughs. “Seokjin would never. Don’t worry. It wasn’t at the bakery.”

“But… why…?”

“I don’t know. I never received any context for it and I was too afraid to ask. Honestly, I think it’s his messed up relationship with his ‘not girlfriend.’” He uses air quotes to signify his distaste for the situation. “Pumpkin. At least he calls her that. Everyone else calls her Grump.”

“Oof. She a bitch?”

“If you were at the shop, you must have seen her.”

You pause to recall the day you’d stopped in. “There was this one girl that was staring at me but I figured it might be someone I knew from high school so I avoided eye contact. Got this chill down my spine though.”

“Yeah that’s her. She’s a little rough around the edges, but she’s secretly soft on the inside. She just needs time to warm up to people. I think she has a hard time showing affection. We’ve all known her almost as long as we’ve known each other. She just needs to get laid. Scratch that. She needs to get laid by Jin. They’ve been dancing around it for over a decade, Snow. Imagine if you and I never… for over ten years.”

You exhale air through puffed cheeks. “I’d have moved on after two. You’re lucky you made a move when you did.” You give his hand a playful squeeze. “Why haven’t they yet?”

“They’ve both been in love with each other for so long I think they’re blinded by it now,” he guesses with a shrug. “They’re so in love that they can’t even see it anymore. Maybe they never did. But there’s always this air of jealousy that makes it impossible for either of them to be happy with anyone else. I should probably sit them both down and talk them through it, but sometimes Seokjin… Ah, he closes his ears to anything he doesn’t like. Maybe this year will be different. She always comes so if you think she’s glaring at you, she probably is, but don’t take it personal.”

You nod in quiet contemplation for a moment before moving on. “Tannie’s dad?”

“Ah. Taehyung. He’s probably my closest friend. Don’t tell the others. Him and Star have been together since college and are so perfect for each other it makes my heart ache. They’re really… unique. It’s okay if you think they’re weird because they are. But that’s their charm. They listen to really old records and wear vintage clothes and talk about art all the time. It used to make me cringe at first but now it makes me happy. It’s probably because I don’t live with him anymore.”

You spare a curious glance at him “You lived with him?”

“Roommates right after high school. Before he went off to art school and got his degree. Then I went off to uni for business and marketing.”

“Ah, right. College. That thing that most people do after highschool. I’m dumb.”

Jimin frowns, knowing it’s a sore subject for you. “You’re not dumb. Be nice to yourself. It’s not your fault you never got a chance to go.”

Your fingers grip the steering wheel tightly, enough so your knuckles pale. “I know I’m not dumb. I could have been a vet by now. I was smart enough for it. I could have done it.”

He reaches out to place a reassuring palm on your shoulder. “You can still go back, you know.”

You shake your head, swallowing the bitter pill that you missed your chance for that kind of life. Things are different now. You like your job. You like your life. You don’t need to use schooling as an escape from your home. Maybe it’s time to let go of the resentment. You can still be smart and not go to college. You can still enjoy a job that doesn’t require a degree.

“I need to work on not being so bitter about my past,” you answer with a shake of your head. “I like where I am now and if I don’t, I can always change. Thank you for helping me remember that. So.. where were we? Taehyung?”

“Ah, I caught him sucking on her toes once,” he says very matter-of-factly.

“What?!”

“When he moved out and told me about his roommate, I thought he’d be living with another man. He invited me over to meet them. Imagine my surprise when I came by. The door to his room was wide open and he’s sitting there licking up the bottom of her foot, putting her toes in his mouth.”

“What did they do when they saw you standing there?” you purse your lips, wondering if Jimin had been a part of this couple’s sex life as well.

“Oh, they tried to laugh and play it off like ‘Oh no we were messing around... it’s not like that... Why would be doing something like that? Da da da.’ All the excuses, you know? But I saw it and I can’t unsee it. He had a boner and she looked like she was enjoying it.” He shakes his head.

“I still think it’s funny you know him. He pampers Tannie. A lot. Like he spends an absurd amount on that dog. He loves him so much. It’s so cute. Wait… Does that mean you know other Mr. Kim? Moni’s dad?”

Jimin looks over. “You know Namjoon too?”

“This isn’t so bad. I’ve at least seen these people,” you say, mostly to yourself as a comforting thought. “Actually, I gave him a dog treat for Moni and he just… Jimin, he ate it right in front of me. I didn’t know what to do so I just smiled.”

Jimin start roaring with laughter. “That sounds like Namjoonie. At least that was edible. I watched him drink perfume once. He said it smelled so good he wanted to see what it tasted like. I’m not sure how drunk he was, but he had to be pretty far gone. You know he’s really intelligent, but he makes some really bad decisions. He will deny this until the day he dies, but I was there for his ‘bad boy’ phase back in high school. He purposefully failed classes because he thought it made him look cooler and he’d always brag about blowing off dates with girls and pretending to be a loner. Not to mention he always wore some kind of black t-shirt with a fake deep quote on it, he had a leather jacket, painted his fingernails black, had a mohawk...”

“Really? That guy? Did he have a motorcycle too?” you snicker. “That would really sell it for me.”

“He may have painted blue flames on the side of his bicycle,” he jokes. “Do I have to worry about him stealing you too?”

You roll your eyes. “Tell me about another one and I’ll tell you who’s the most dangerous. Right now, you’re still winning.”

“Yoongi looks the most intimidating. He looks like a bad boy, covered in tattoos and piercings. He even has his dick pierced. I’ve seen it. Yes, it looks painful. People say he comes off as cold, but he’s really not.”

“Like Grump?”

“Hmmmm… Different. Have you ever heard of Inkspires? It’s the tattoo shop across town.”

You think for a moment. It’s not like you live in a big city, but you’re not sure you’ve ever had a reason to go to such a place. You rack your brain trying to think of the place he’s talking about. When you shake your head, he seems a little sad.

“Don’t worry. You’ll know them once I’m done. I’m working on rebranding them. Pro bono. I’m working to make it something everyone will recognize. Jisoo’s got a lot of ideas and I’m excited to bring them to life. It will take some time, but I think it will be worth it.” He smiles. “I think he might be bringing his new girlfriend. What did he call her? Plum? Melons?” He snaps his fingers. “Ah, Peaches.”

“Peaches?”

Jimin shrugs. “They started dating recently. I don’t have all the details yet. It’s kind of a big deal. He usually doesn’t bring a date. He usually doesn’t date. And unless something has changed-- which I don’t think it has-- he's still a virgin.”

Your mouth falls open. “Really? How? I mean, that’s kind of impressive, honestly. The world is so busy trying to sell sex. How do you keep away from it?”

Jimin shakes his head. “Trust me, I know. My whole business is embedded in it. I guess he’s never had anyone he really wanted to share the experience with. I told you, he’s a real soft-hearted guy. He works part time at Construct-a-Cub during the holidays. He donates a lot of stuff to charities for children.”

“Wow. He sounds like a really good person,” you say, genuinely stunned by the kindness people can show.

“Don’t be fooled. He’ll tell you he hates kids. Secret softie. But similar to Grump, if you think he’s being cold, he’s probably just wary. Give him time and he’ll warm up to you. Keep an open mind. And don’t judge a book by its cover.”

You nod. “Of course.”

“He’s the one who actually did my tattoo and piercings.”

“I meant to ask about those…”

“Tae, Guk, and I decided we were all gonna get them right after college. Kind of a celebration pact type thing. Tae chickened out after watching us go and since he already paid for it, Star ended up getting hers done in his place.”

“Ouch,” you hiss through your teeth, mentally conjuring the level of endurance that might take.

“It really wasn’t that bad.” He laughs. “I was surprised by how little it hurt compared to what I imagined.”

“Did you watch?”

“Hmm?”

“Star getting hers done.”

Jimin licks his lips and stares out the window with a shy smile. “Yoongi offered to kick everyone out, but she insisted we stay. Tae didn’t talk to us for a week. He’s a baby sometimes. He knows she only has eyes for him. I think she’s an exhibitionist. Don’t be surprised if you catch her walking around naked.”

You hold back a snort with a pang of irrational jealousy. “What? For real?”

“I’m joking. Kind of. She’s soft and sweet and as a couple they’re pretty reserved. But I’ve heard them competing with Cat and Hobi for loudest cabin sex.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “And I guess that just leaves Jeongguk. Where do I start? He keeps humiliating himself in front of his coworker. He’s got a big crush on her but his brain just melts any time he’s close to her. For instance, he started going on about how heavy it is to carry around his balls. He kind of put his foot in his mouth, since he was talking about soccer balls. You know, he kind of reminds me of you. Almost like you’re related.”

“Jimin!” You choke on your own spit, trying to focus on the lines separating the lanes.

Jimin raises his eyebrows, feigning innocence. “What?”

“How did you know?”

“Well, it’s pretty boring actually. After I came out of your apartment covered in your juices, he accused me of eating someone’s pussy. I showed him a picture of you and he told me you guys are cousins.”

“Okay forget I asked. Please don’t say any more,” you plead, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “I can’t believe this shit. Why are you friends with my cousin?... That means… That Taehyung… oh fuck. I’ve been playing video games with Mr. Kim for years. Oh god. I’ve been talking about you to both of them in-game. Oh god, this is so weird. Let’s go back to when I didn’t know my cousin has been friends with my boyfriend for literal years. Our town is small, but how fucking small is the world when I moved from the city and I’m still dating my cousin’s friend?”

Jimin smiles. “It doesn’t bother me. Does it really bother you? He’s happy for you.”

You bite your lip. “It’s just weird. I’ll need to adjust to the fact that you two know each other at all. Oh my god. I should have known. In-game. He named his pet Tannie. God, I’m so stupid!”

After a minute of listening to the soft sounds of the radio, he looks over and asks, “Am I still winning?”

“I don’t know. Yoongi’s sounding pretty sweet right now.”

He gasps, acting surprised by your answer. “No,” he whines.

You twine his fingers in yours and bring them to your lips. “Don’t worry. I’m yours and yours only. I belong to one charming, snake of a prince. What are your secrets anyway?”

“You really want to know?”

You cock your head to one side and spare a fleeting glance at him. “Spill ‘em.”

“You have to promise not to tell.”

You smile, seeing the exit you need to take quickly approaching. “If you tell me I’ll wrap these lips around your cock when we get there. Wherever you want.”

“...That’s not a promise, Snow.”

“I guarantee you it is.”

You shiver as Jimin wraps his arms around you, sinking his chin into the crook of your shoulder. A heavy sigh reverberates against your ear as he presses his hardening length into your ass. “So?”

“So what?”

“Not too awkward right?” he confirms, holding your waist and swaying back and forth.

“Yeah, I almost forgot my cousin showed up with my bestie. Definitely don’t want to be around to hear them go at it. I really don’t need that image in my head. How far is our room from theirs?” you ask, reaching behind you to run your fingers across his pants in the place he needs you most.

He inhales deeply and purses his lips for a moment. “I don’t know. We change it up every year. First come...” He hikes your dress up and slides his hand over your thigh, teasing the sensitive bud beneath your panties. “First served.”

You groan as he licks a line from your collarbone to your ear.

“What do you think? Now that we’ve had dinner, can I have dessert?”

You shiver and turn your face to give him a quick peck.

“Mmm I don’t know. Maybe I want dessert,” you counter, licking your lips and sparing a glance down to the place your fingers are massaging.

A whine rumbles up and out of his throat as his hands roam the exterior of your dress, gliding up your sides until he’s cupping your breasts in his palms. “You make this dress look good.”

Deft fingers play with the button on the back of your neck, making quick work of the zipper concealed beneath. The fabric of your party dress falls away from your body and pools around your feet. “But it looks better on the floor.”

He doesn’t give you time to ruminate on how exposed you feel. He’s already spinning you around and pushing you towards the guest bed you’ll be sharing for the night. As you fall back against the cold comforter, he’s working the buttons off his shirt. Not fast enough. You’ve been wanting this all day. The notches on his belt are so small the buckle gets stuck; you nearly snap the metal with how quick your fingers are moving. He offers a surprised gasp as you drag his boxers down with his pants, thick cock springing free from its confines

You pump him with your hand once before taking him in your mouth. His hands, which had been fumbling with the last button on his shirt, fist in your hair as you bob up and down over his shaft. It takes all his restraint, but he tightens his grip with a moan and pulls you off him. You give him a confused pout, trying to move your mouth close enough to take him back in. He allows you to move forward just a little, your lips ghosting over the tip before he yanks your hair to force you to behave.

“You said it could be wherever I choose,” he murmurs, losing himself in the way you’re flicking your tongue out in attempts to coax him back into your mouth.

“So where do you want me, baby?” You want him so bad. You need him. And from the way he allows you to brush your lips against him again, he feels the same. You lick your lips in anticipation, causing a shiver to wrack his body as it passes over every sensitive nerve ending on the head of his throbbing cock. “Please.”

With just a word, he allows you to take the tip in your mouth, tongue gliding across every last bit you’ll give. He bites his lip hard and reluctantly shakes his head, pulling you back again. “Not yet. I want to make you sing first.”

“What am I singing?” you confusedly ask, knowing full well you’re probably tone-deaf. But you’ll do anything he requests if he’ll let you suck his dick without being a total tease.

He giggles, watching the desperation in your eyes cloud your understanding. Leaning down, he presses his lips to yours and slips his tongue between them, tasting the faint traces of himself left behind.

“Sing my name,” he pleads between open-mouthed kisses, hands sliding around to cup your jaw. “It sounds like heaven spilling from your lips.”

He pulls back long enough for your eyes to flutter open and see the love coursing through every last bit of his soul. He reaches down and splays his hands over your hips, thumbs curling around the band of your red panties before working them down your thighs in a playful wiggle. You pop open the last button on his shirt as he plunges a finger into you.

“You’ll ruin your shirt if you don’t take it off now,” you say, a not so subtle attempt to get him to remove it so there’s only skin touching skin.

He rolls his eyes, shaking the fabric from his arms. “Take your bra off for me?”

You discard the undergarment quicker than his shirt can fall to the floor, pulling his body down on top of you so you can feel that closeness you’ve grown accustomed to sharing.

“Jimin, I want you,” you whimper, running your fingers through his hair as he clamps his mouth down on your neck. That elicits a moan from him against your throat as he sucks a line of kisses down to a softened nipple.

“Yours would look good pierced,” he comments, squeezing both with his fingers before moving his hands to massage the flesh surrounding them.

“I’m good,” you laugh, watching the fascination in his eyes as your nipples pebble at the loss of the pleasurable pressure.

He hums a sound of indifference, pushing your tits together and burying his face between them. He’s sure to dip his tongue in the cleavage he’s created for his own benefit.

“Get up here. I miss you,” you whine, twining your fingers in his hair and guiding him back towards your mouth.

His mouth hungrily crashes down on yours and has you gasping for more in seconds. “Please… fuck.” He sucks your bottom lip through his teeth. “Jimin, please fuck me.”

His breath is haggard on inhale as he allows your lip to snap back to you. “But I haven’t even made you cum yet. What kind of boyfriend would I be?”

You take his hand and direct it to the slick, sticky juices coating your sex. “An amazing one. You make me wet without even trying.”

Jimin gasps, sliding two fingers past your lips and filling your pussy just to be sure you could take him. He pops his fingers out of you and brings them to his mouth, rutting the tip of his dick against your clit. Your body spasms as he rubs the entirety of his shaft against you. He grins when you lock your arms around his back and dig your fingernails into his muscles.

“You sure you don’t want me to make you cum first?” he offers again with a roll of his hips.

“I want your cock inside me now,” you whisper in a low, raspy tone, hot breath tickling his ear.

His hips stutter as he draws his pelvis back and you feel his tip teasing the heat of your entrance. When he pauses, you roll your hips beneath him, enticing him to continue his journey as the head circles your labia. Unable to exert any more self control, he sinks into you in a slow descent until he’s buried in you to the hilt. You both let out a held breath and moan against each other pitifully.

“Shit! Sorry!” Suddenly he pulls out and scrambles off of you like you’re made of lava, crossing the room and rifling through his bag. When he turns around, he's tearing the condom wrapper with his teeth, a sight you’ve grown so accustomed to seeing you should have known you were skipping a step.

“At least you remembered,” you sigh, getting into a comfortable position against the pillows. “I probably would have let you cum in me.”

“Now you tell me,” he jokes, dragging the condom down his shaft with ease.

“This isn’t the olden days, you know. Women have birth control,” you tease, spreading your legs and rubbing circles into your clit as he climbs on top of you.

“Oh so you want me to rip this condom off and fill you with my cum? Watch it drip down your leg when we join everyone at midnight?”

The thought turns you on more than it should. You increase the speed and pressure of your fingers against your clit. “Yes…” you whine.

He leans back on his knees as he slots himself between your legs, pressing his sheathed cock into you as you touch yourself for him.

“You want everyone to know you’re mine, don’t you?” he asks, thrusting himself up into you at a steady pace.

“Yes, Jimin…”

“All that sweetness. That innocence. You want everyone to see what a bad girl you really are. You want to show off for them, show them your pretty pussy. Full of my cum. Don’t you?”

You’re so fucking close. Everything he says is just getting you more worked up and you whimper, nodding like you’re a bobblehead without a brain.

“Say it, Snow,” he demands, slowing his pumps to a stop.

“Please,” you beg, desperately wiggling your hips to feel him again. “Please fuck me. I want you to show everyone how well you fill this tight pussy.”

“Oh, that’s it baby. Touch yourself for me. You getting off thinking about that?” He grunts as he resumes fucking himself into you, slinging your legs over his shoulders to hit deeper without hindering your ability to touch yourself. “I want you to tell me. Tell me who owns this fucking pussy.”

You clench around his cock, not used to hearing such filth come from his mouth.“This pussy is yours, Jimin. Use me like your little fuck toy.”

He tenses, throbbing inside you as he growls,“Tell me you’re my cumslut.”

With one hand pressing circles into your clit and the other squeezing your breast, you search his face, hoping to find yourself in it. You’re so far gone you can’t even register the lewd sounds of pleasure spewing from your mouth.

“Use your words. You can do it,” he whispers, beaming with pride.

“I’m... your cumslut,” you whisper between frenzied panting. “Fuck. Jimin. I’m close.”

He slows his pace, bending himself over you to move in for a messy kiss. “Such a good girl, my little cumslut. Squeezing my cock with that tight pussy… Want me to fuck you raw, don’t you?”

“Fuck. Yes. Fuck me raw baby. You feel so fucking good. I want you to cum inside me,” you confess loudly, not caring who might hear. “Take it off, baby. I want you to fill this pussy. Leave me dripping...”

His mouth comes crashing down on yours again, muffling the sounds of your obscene begging. “That’s too bad. Because I’m gonna fill that pretty, filthy little mouth instead.”

Your climax hits you faster than you can vocalize it. “I’m…”

You gush around the cock pistoning into you and when he feels your walls clamp down, he stays inside to subject himself to the delicious torture of every twitch and pulse you deliver.

“That’s it, princess. Good girl,” he whispers, sweetness in his voice returning.

His forehead drops against yours and he rides out your high with you, pressing his lips to yours until your hands fall limp against the mattress.

“That was…” you pause, heavy breaths mingling with his. “...amazing.”

“You still want dessert?” he questions with a grin.

“Finally. Give it to me,” you plead, kissing his lips again and again.

“Not here,” he whispers, a devilish smile gracing his features.

The water is warm and inviting. The bubbles bursting from the jets below offer pressure in all the right spots in all the right ways. How he had convinced you to enter the jacuzzi with him completely naked is beyond you. You’re terrified someone might walk in, but he assures you everyone is lost in their own world.

You lean forward, pressing your tits together as he positions his dick between them and starts with lazy thrusts. You stare up at his fucked out expression, savoring the way his jaw hangs open as he watches his cock slip between your wet breasts. A shy smile crosses your face when you realize he’s looking in your eyes rather than at the lewd act of his shaft sliding between two perfect mounds. He’s lost, a disoriented smile setting up camp in the corners of his mouth.

You look down and stick your tongue out to brush the head of his cock every time it comes up towards your face. He slots his fingers in your hair, curling strands into his fist.

“Do you want to fuck my throat?”

He nods weakly, guiding you back against the seat of the jacuzzi. You pump your fist over his cock a few times as he towers over you. Relaxing your jaw, you take him to the base, tongue wiggling against his balls. He loses his footing for a moment, slipping against the bottom of the hot tub.

“Maybe you should sit down,” you suggest, his dick coming out of your mouth with a loud pop.

“Can you hold your breath for that long?” He sounds unsure, even as he’s settling in the space across from you.

“Think of it as an edging session,” you giggle, taking a deep breath and submerging yourself in the water.

When he feels you take him into your mouth again, his jaw goes slack as he stretches out his arms across the side of the hot tub and tilts his head back.

“Hey, did you come alone?” Hobi’s voice breaks his moment of peace.

Jimin panics, hands diving into the water to keep your head beneath the surface. Hopefully the bubbles from the jets will obscure your form. He wracks his brain, trying to think of something to say as he stares blankly at Hoseok and Cat, who are now standing in the doorway with eyebrows raised.

You grip his legs and fight against his hands, shooting up from the water with the grace of someone who just got a bunch of water up their nose and nearly drowned. You cough and sputter, swiping water from your eyes as you see two figures standing in the doorway. Recognizing one as J-Hope, your heart sinks. Jimin mentioned he was running late when he didn’t show up for dinner.

This is how you meet Hope on the Street. Of course it is.

The hot chick next to him must be his girlfriend. Realizing you’re completely nude, you sink down in the water to your chin and smile as sweetly as you can.

“Hi, you must be Hoseok and Cat! Jimin’s told me so much about you.”

Hoseok sputters, laughing with his mouth wide open. You recoil at the sound, wishing the jacuzzi would melt your bones and just leave you to live your life as a puddle from now on.

Cat lightly smacks him in the shoulder. “Yeah, that’s us. We’ll hang out later, give you guys some space. Sorry!”

She shoves her boyfriend through the door, leaving you alone with Jimin.

“I want to die,” you say, clapping your hands to your cheeks. “I wish I had drowned instead.”

“It’s not that bad, really,” Jimin says, pulling you back to his body.

“Hope on the Street just cackled at the sight of me coming up for air after sucking your dick. Hell of a first impression,” you grumble, rubbing your temple.

“We can ‘walk in’ on them later if it makes you feel better,” he suggests with a laugh.

You disappear under the water, picking up where you left off. If they were going to catch you giving him a blowjob, you might as well finish it. The taste of chemicals is already on your tongue; it can’t be for nothing.

“I love you,” he says when you come out of the water for air.

“I love you too,” you murmur, shyly kissing his lips before descending again.

Every time you resurface, he’s waiting, bringing you to his lips with a sweet kiss. You can tell he’s close, but you’re having too much fun popping out of the water to kiss him. Finally, he’s had enough of the edging and has you kneeling in the center of the jacuzzi, sloppily thrusting himself deep into your mouth.

“I’m gonna cum,” he warns. “Is this okay?”

“Mmm-hmm,” you mumble a sound of affirmation against his cock, only choking slightly.

The grunt of his release comes with the bitter tang of his cum hitting the back of your throat as he bottoms out. You swallow it bit by bit, doing your best not to sputter and choke with the way he’s tightly holding the back of your head in place. He loosens his grip and pulls back, catching the tears in your eyes and concernedly swiping at them with his thumbs. You swallow what’s left in your mouth like a champ.

“You okay?” he checks in, settling into the water with you. “That was too much, wasn’t it? I’m sorry.”

You shake your head with a giggle. “I like when you’re rough. I’m just… out of practice.”

“We can work on it then,” he whispers with a grin, pulling you into an embrace.

When he brings his lips to meet yours, butterflies tickle your insides like it’s the first time. You lose yourself in his touch, in his kiss, in his everything. Being with him still feels like a dream. Never in your life could you have imagined loving someone could feel so good, so pure, so right.

“Hey it’s probably almost midnight. Do you wanna go do the countdown with everyone?”

You respond with a nod. “Champagne?”

“Of course.”

He gets out first and you watch the water roll off his body as he extends a hand to help you out of the hot tub. Pruny fingers grasp his, hoping he knows just how much he means. You’re ready to face the new year together and you’re ready to jump into this found family head first.

Heading for the door, you pause, turning back to look at him. “Aren’t you coming?”

With a laugh, he comes up behind you, draping a robe around your naked form. “You might want to put this on.”

What would you do without him? You swallow hard, donning the robe and smiling at him. He links his fingers with yours and you head inside together.

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