#We are doing so much at once this system is going wild

[janebonbon]

wauuuggrrgh Setting up blog aside I want to post art so desperately but we won't allow ourselves until we finish what we need to. It's getting there!! But oh my god. The desperation. Oh well. At least the art queue will be good??? Consistant art... How do I even space that out... Every week? Feels too long. This ain't a TV show! Every other day? Somehow feels too fast... Maybe. Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

[ladybracknellssherry]

I see so many posts since the dam broke about NG in which people are lamenting how horrible celebrities and people in power are and asking where we went wrong as a society to let this happen.

The fucked up thing though is that humans have always behaved like this. We just have the internet now.

And please don’t mistake this for resignation or apathy or anything other than disgust.

But I just keep coming back to the point that human beings are capable of truly terrifying, horrible things.

So I feel like we’ve got to remember that most people don’t do terrible things. But we’re all capable of them.

And I don’t fault anyone for being devastated to learn that someone they respected did indeed to terrible things. It would feel wild to call someone foolish or stupid or naïve because their first instinct was to believe that someone is decent. They’re not anything like that other than someone who was lied to.

I actually do think as a society we are in fact getting better about calls for justice in situations like this.

But people who behave like NG…people who do these things…their personalities are a cancer. And we can do what we can to try to prevent things like this from happening. But I don’t think we can stop it all from happening. It’s never going to disappear completely.

But we can continue to listen to victims. And we can continue to be vocal about demanding justice and accountability.

The court of public opinion and the legal system both fail terribly at times, especially in situations like this. Another flaw of human nature, I think.

The “I’ll wait for the legal system to decide” argument isn’t really helpful here. Because SA allegations / abuse are some of the hardest things to prove in a court of law. And there have been legitimate actual cases in which victims have come forward with allegations, there was no evidence to be found/the evidence wasn’t “good enough” and these victims were instead actually CHARGED with filing false reports. So putting all of the onus or faith in the law here just… again… isn’t helpful.

Sometimes the justice can be best served by demanding consequences that aren’t legal punishments. There are petitions to remove NG from his positions as a writer/showrunner in these shows we love.

Sometimes just making sure the word is spread is the push to topple the dominos.

As others have said and continue to say, you can do both terrible and great things. And they don’t cancel each other out. Doing great things doesn’t make the terrible ones any less terrible. Doing terrible things doesn’t make the great things any less great. Two truths can exist at once.

Sure, we can argue that continuing to consume NG’s work is continuing to put money in his pocket. Yeah. But once again, as far as my random internet user opinion.

I experienced some very similar things to what his victims said they experienced in these interviews. And they wrecked my life in no uncertain terms. I’ll never “come back from that” because we don’t. We just keep going forward having to carry that. It doesn’t go away.

But my abusers took so much from me. And the good things I got out of those relationships are made so much more important because of how much suffering they cost.

Sidebar, but that’s something that I see people using in their arguments for why the “abuse” allegations weren’t real or “that bad.” Because the victims went back. Or they continued to stay. Or continued to pursue. Listen. When you go through all of THAT, it is so common to scramble to keep what you perceive are the “good things” you get out of that dynamic/relationship. Or you convince yourself that it’s not as bad as all that. Because, god. “I went through all of that and they STILL LEFT.” “I gave them (they took) all of THAT and I still wasn’t good enough for them.” It’s this survival element where we have to convince ourselves all of that suffering we went through was WORTH IT. Or, the gaslighting gets imbedded and we believe it must have been our fault. “Yes, they treated me badly, but I must have done something to deserve it. They told me it was my fault. Everyone else loves them. I did something wrong.” Yeah. NO.

So if you can separate yourself from that abuser - get far enough away to have the clarity and perspective to finally say “no, that was fucking real what happened. That was abuse. They’re an abuser.” I say, anything “good” you got out of that - take it and fucking run.

NG is a predator at best. And we are all suffering for it. But we got our books and our shows and we found each other in these fandoms. I say take these good things and run. You didn’t cause this. Don’t let him take any more joy from you or anyone else.

[percervall]

it's a bad idea (fuck it, it's fine) — part 2

Summary: your housemates give you an offer you can't refuse. What's the worst that could happen? Pairing: Jenson Button x fem!reader, Fernando Alonso x fem!reader, Sebastian Vettel x fem!reader, Mark Webber x fem!reader Warnings: discussions around consent Word count: 827

Part 2 of the Fuck It series

Pushing the plate away from you, you lean back in the chair as you rest the coffee mug on the knee that’s pulled up to your chest. You’re lucky that Fernando is also more of a coffee person and quickly learnt just how you like yours once you moved in. Sometimes you still wonder how on God’s green earth you ended up being roommates with some of motorsports finest. 

Looking around the table, you can’t help but smile as they tease each other about something that happened during the last race. Jenson laughs at Fernando’s misfortune although he is quick to sympathise seeing as they’re in the same boat with regards to their cars being nowhere near Mercedes or even Sebastian’s Ferrari. For as long as you’ve known him, Jenson has always been easy going. His teasing and generally positive attitude is what led to the two of you becoming friends in the first place. And because of that friendship, you became a lot closer to Fernando as well when he rejoined McLaren. The two of them had an easy partnership, both on and off the track, and whenever you joined a race, Jenson made sure to include you in their conversations. Somehow being friends with both of them also meant you got to know Mark a lot better, and in turn Sebastian as well. The Aussie had retired from the sport well before you met Jenson, but he remained a constant in the paddock with his punditry job for Channel4. And from what you were told, the German driver had mellowed out since his RedBull days. The four of them seem to have such a deep understanding of each other, they work together seamlessly. Apparently even more so than you had expected.

And therein also lies the problem. Because while sharing seems to be somewhat normal for them, it makes you wonder where that leaves you in this arrangement. Would it always be like this morning, where they’re all involved in one way or another? How can you make sure it’s equal? Would they take turns? The thought alone has you swallowing thickly as your mind whirls with fantasies. 

“Are you okay, doll?” Jenson’s voice cuts through your thoughts.

“Yeah, yeah. Just-.. Just thinking,” you reply, taking another sip from your now luke-warm coffee. The men share a look that you decide to ignore as you down what’s left of your coffee.

“I don’t regret this morning,” you say, worried they will misinterpret your hesitancy.

“But?” Sebastian fills in for you.

“But it leaves me with. Questions,” you add, not making eye contact. 

“You can ask us anything, sweetheart,” Mark says gently and Jenson gives your knee a squeeze. Taking a moment to gather your thoughts you look out of the window.

“I guess the biggest question I have is how will this work? If we’re really gonna do this, if I’m gonna-.. Will it always be one on one or-.. Or will everyone be involved?” Something like desire swoops low in your stomach as you voice the latter part of the question and you can feel your cheeks heat up. 

“That is very much up to you, sweetheart,” Mark says, as the other three nod in agreement.

“We should have some sort of system, like to check if you’re okay with whatever will happen,” Sebastian offers, “do you have a safe word already?”

“A safe word? I-.. No, my ex wasn’t one for anything other than missionary and the occasional oral,” you confess, stomach in knots at the implications of maybe having to use a safe word. 

“I use traffic light system, very easy to follow and understand,” Fernando comments. Your imagination runs wild with all the possible scenarios in which Fernando would use this system.

“Hey, it’s just a way to make sure it’s fun and pleasurable for everyone,” Jenson says quietly, picking up on the way your head is going about a mile a minute. You nod, taking a deep breath. The longer you think about it, the more sense it makes. Having this in place will make sure, like Jenson said, that everyone is having a good time. You had just never considered that you are allowed to check in and see whether you’re okay with what’s about to happen. While it never felt like you didn’t have a choice in your previous relationship, consent was not something that was actively discussed; It was just always assumed. And in hindsight you maybe let him get away with blurring more boundaries than you had realised. 

“Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense,” you say, relaxing back into the chair. 

“Like Mark said, whatever we do, it’s up to you,” Sebastian reiterates. You nod in understanding once more, the knot in your stomach untangling slowly. You had trusted them enough to be roommates for the last year and a half without them overstepping a boundary or taking advantage of you. They care, you think, they’re not him. Fernando presses a kiss to your temple as he pours you another cup.

“It’ll be fun, nena,” he says with a wicked glint in his eyes, and the implications have you clenching your thighs together. Something tells you Fernando could very well be right. 

A smaller part to establish the relationship between the five of them a little bit more and to set things up for what's to come 👀

Feel free to let me know what you think (or any ideas you have for this series), your comments, tags, and likes means the world to me 💜

taglist: @2pagenumb @alishamai @anotherblackreader @Barbare2 @blackcat-mors13 @cassielikesreading @champomiel  @dannyramirezwife @darkwaterrose @brklynlewis @the-depressed-fellow @emlynblack @forza55 @heyheyheyggg @hiireadstuff @honkyscats @hrts4scarr @jeffs77 @jaimeleannavanlloman @Leaderofthebadbitchbrigade @lightdragonrayne  @mehrmonga @prttypqrtts @raizelchrysanderoctavius @ruledbyproblematique @scarlett11xo @skatingiswalkingincursive @tallrock35 @thatsadsmallchild @szobosz @vinvantae @whoreforeveryon @woozarts @zagreus

[24carathoney]

Birthday Girl | C.SC | 18+

Pairing: Seungcheol x FemReader

Wc: 3.2k

Genre: Smut // Established Relationship

Warnings: minors do not interact // reader is bisexual // dom!Seungcheol // a sprinkle of dom!Jeonghan // daddy kink // slight degradation // oral f. receiving // fingering // lesbian experience // Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) // Group sex (Not an orgy) // Voyeurism // use of pet names such as princess, angel, gorgeous // squirting // multiple orgasms //

Summary: Jeonghan wants to give his girlfriend a gift for her birthday. But he needs you and Seungcheol to be successful. 

A/N: I'll be completely honest, my imagination ran kinda wild with this one. 

If you knew the night would end like this, you would've had a couple more drinks in your system. Jeonghan invited you and Seungcheol to his girlfriend's birthday party tonight and you were already late because the man is nothing but insatiable when it comes to you. 

“Are you ready yet?” He shouted to you from the living room and a scoff left your lips. 

“I would've been ready if your didn't fuck me into the bed as soon as I got out of the shower.” You responded and smiled when you heard his laughter echo throughout the house. After giving yourself one last look over you met your boyfriend in the living room. You didn't miss the way his gaze darkened as his eyes scanned you over. 

“Hey babe, you think we have at least 20 minutes to spare?” He groaned, wrapping you up in his arms making sure to press his crotch into your ass.

“No we're already late, remember? Let's go.” You laughed, smacking his shoulder as you bid Kkuma goodbye. The drive there wasn't long so you didn't have to worry about Seungcheol trying to pull over to have a second quickie. When the two of you arrived Jeonghan was quick to greet both of you with a wide smile. 

“About time you two showed up! Hoshi was about to drag me to karaoke for the third time tonight.” he groaned with a feign look of annoyance. 

“Well we would've been on time but someone wanted some fresh out the shower pussy.” You stated and Jeonghan did nothing but shake his head, having grown used to how blunt you were with your relationship. Seungcheol grabbed your waist, hiding his wide grin on your shoulder. 

“Of course he did. Speaking of there's something I want to ask you Y/N. Not now though if you want to mingle first.”

“We can talk. I'd rather not be dragged into another drinking game by Soonyoung and Mingyu. Last time I ended up dancing on a table and somebody didn't like that very much.” You grinned, nudging Seungcheol with your shoulder. Your boyfriend playfully rolled his eyes as Jeonghan cleared his throat.

“It's settled then. You two come join us at our booth.” You gave a short nod as you waved at the others as you passed by.

Following behind the blonde you gave Seungcheol a confused smile in which he retorted with a raised eyebrow. When you walked up to the booth you waved at the woman sitting there with her hands in her lap. It's Crystal, Jeonghan's girlfriend. Once the four of you were away from prying eyes, Jeonghan was the one to speak first as Seungcheol poured you both a glass of wine.

“So to my knowledge, you have experience with women correct?” He asked you and you slowly nodded, wondering what that has to do with anything. “Well Crystal has always wanted to try it out and I figured I'd ask you for that favor since it's her birthday. If you're comfortable with it of course.”

Your eyes went wide and he threw his hands up. “Nothing too crazy. Just eating her out will be enough.”

You raised an eyebrow behind your glass, staring at the blonde across from you as you took a swig of your wine. “You want me to go down on your girlfriend?” You stared Jeonghan in the eyes and could tell he was serious. 

“Why not? It's her birthday and she thinks you're sexy. Plus she's never been with a woman so I figured you were the best bet.” He said rubbing circles on her thigh. You tore your eyes from the couple in front of you and looked over at Seungcheol who surprisingly already has his eyes on you. 

“What are you looking at me for? He's asking you the question.” He smirked, putting his arm over the couch. It was no secret to Seungcheol that you were bisexual and had your own experiences with women. He knew that way before the two of you got together. Unbeknownst to you, he and Jeonghan already had a conversation concerning the topic at hand. Seungcheol figured it would be an interesting night and agreed. Can’t blame him for being curious on how you are with women versus how you are with him. But only because it was his best friend asking. “You gonna answer him princess?”

“I thought daddy got the final say.” You asked looking up at him through your lashes. He could swear he felt his dick twitch at the sight but only ended up sucking his teeth, placing his hand firmly around your throat. 

“As bad as I would love to fuck you right here on this couch, birthday girl is waiting for an answer.” You gave him a puzzled stare and he grinned down at you. “Don't worry. I'll be there.” Your gaze shifted to the girl fidgeting in her seat as Jeonghan held her hand. “Okay.”

Now 5 shots later the four of you were up in one of the guest rooms. You were buried between Crystal's legs on the bed while the guys sat on the couch across from you, eyes glued to the scene in front of them. You pulled away with hooded eyes and turned to look at Seungcheol who had his gaze snapped on you. His legs were spread apart and the bulge in his pants did nothing but taunt you. Beckoning you to take him down your throat. You pushed those thoughts away remembering exactly why you were here. 

“Any rules?” You questioned and the man shrugged his shoulders, his hand palming his dick through his pants. 

“Have fun princess.”

Crystal shuddered and jerked under your touch as you let your tongue flick her swollen bud at a gentle pace. The skirt you wore started to rise up your hips and you did a little wiggle ro make sure your man had a perfect view of your soiled panties. You heard him smack his lips and grinned into the wet opening in front of you. Crystal brought her hands up her body to fondle her breasts, head falling back as the pleasure built a knot in her stomach. You were gentle. Careful. You didn't want to overwhelm the jerking woman under you. 

“You're alright.” You voice was soothing to the woman but Jeonghan's voice cut through the air like a hot knife.

“She can take it Y/N. No need to be gentle with her.” 

“Don't be shy, gorgeous. You and I both know you can use your tongue better than that.” As if that low voice itself was a switch, something in your brain clicked and a shudder ran down your spine. You pushed your tongue harder against the small bundle of nerves and Crystal arched off the bed, pushing her hips further into your face. 

“Feel good?” You asked, feeling your pride build at how breathless she became. You got a taste of the dom headspace that Cheol lives in rent fucking free as you held onto the woman's thigh. You will never be like this with him. With all the things he does to you……you gladly submit to him anyday. 

“Fuck- it's so good. So so good.” She moaned out when you pushed a finger past her folds, curling your finger against the spot you know all too well. You gave her a nod as your free hand slid past the waistband of your panties, coating your digit in your own arousal. You moaned into her heat letting her hips rock against your face. “H-hannie, can I please c-cum? It's too good she's gonna make me cum.”

“Oh you remembered to ask permission first? Go ahead angel. Let me watch that pussy cum.” He smirked as he rubbed his palm over his pants to give his dick some relief. Now Seungcheol on the other hand was fully prepared to pounce on you as soon as Crystal hit her high. His dick strained against his jeans and the sly passes of his hand isn't doing much for him. His gaze never once left you as you went to work to make this girl's birthday wish come true. His eyes darkened as Crystal ran a hand through your curls as she began to come undone. 

“This pretty little pussy gonna cum? You questioned rubbing quick circles around her swollen bud. She vigorously nodded her head and you leaned back to leave light kisses along her thighs.

There was one unspoken rule between you and Seungcheol though. And that was not to let her cum on your tongue. That's not your job. So you opted to use your fingers to fuck her through her high. 

“Fuck I'm cumming. Don't stop.” You moaned into her thigh quickly rubbing her clit, shooting volts of pleasure up her spine as her release crashed down on her. You shivered as your fingers rubbed circles around your own bundle of nerves, bringing you closer to your own release. As Crystal rode out her high, you didn't even notice Jeonghan moving over to the bed until he slipped behind Crystal. Instead of finishing, you slid away to give her some space and watched the two with a shy grin as Jeonghan rubbed Crystal's shoulders. Coaxing her through her aftershocks. “How was it angel?”

“So good.” Her eyes were glazed over but she had a wide smile on her lips. 

“Don't be rude now, say thank you to my friends. This wouldn't have been possible without their say so.”

“Thank you Y/N. Thank you Seungcheol.” She was breathless and Jeonghan peppered her neck and shoulder with short kisses. You turned to look at Seungcheol and he beckoned you closer with his finger, his dark gaze glued to you. He couldn't wait for the two of you to get home. He wanted you then and there, not interested in what the other couple were doing. Your bottom lip nestled between your teeth as you slipped off the bed and made your way over to him, his eyes not breaking the intense stare you two shared. His hands ran up and down your thighs before he softly pulled at the back of your knees until you were straddling his hips on the couch. 

“You did so fucking good.” His fingers tangled in your hair as he pulled you down for a kiss. You moaned into the kiss, causing Crystal's eyes to snap over to the couch. Seungcheol wasted no time to leave fiery kisses down your neck and chest as you grind your hips into the evident hard on in his pants. 

“I need you so bad.” You moaned into his lips as he bucked his hips into you. 

“What do you need from me princess?” His breath fanned over your lips and you ran your fingers through his hair. 

“Need daddy to fuck me.” He groaned into your skin, sinking back into the couch so you could easily free him from the confines of the denim fabric. Pulling his hand free, he dipped down between you to slip your panties to the side, the fall of your skirt covering just about everything. “I'll fuck you beautiful but do you care for an audience?” His lips left hot kisses down your neck and you let a whine slip past your lips.

“Ah….fuck, no daddy.” He eased into your heat spewing soft praises until he bottomed out. You let your head fall into the crook of his neck gently biting down on his skin to keep quiet as you shifted your hips to rid yourself of the slight sting that always came with taking him all the way. He crashed his lips into your parted ones to serve as a distraction, letting his hungry tongue slam against yours. 

His hand held onto your waist before lifting you off of him till only the head was being sucked back in. You squealed out when he slammed into you all at once before picking his rythym and fucking you in front of the other couple. Jeonghan took that as his queue to wrap his arms around Crystal to whisper in her ear. “What do you want to do angel? We could leave……”

“No. I want to cum again. But can I want to watch them.” She muttered as Jeonghan slipped his hand between her legs. Seungcheol didn't give two fucks about the other couple in the room. His sole purpose at that moment was to fuck into you until you were falling apart in his lap. Especially since he had to wait for you to finish with Crystal.

The sound of the woman moaning softly reached your ears and you let your body fall forward onto his chest. “Baby.” You whined as he sped up his thrusts. His hands kept a tight hold on your hips, keeping you in place as the need to cum started to intensify. 

“I got you princess. Just a little……fuck….a little longer.” You run your fingers through his hair, the world around you falling into nothing as his tip brushes against your g spot every thrust. He smirks at the way your head lulls back, the familiar sharp sting on his scalp shooting straight down to his dick. He felt you flutter around him as you normally did when you were on the brink of your release. His arms quickly wrapped around you, engulfing your twitching form as you started to cum. Your eyes shut tight as you held onto his arm, trying to keep yourself grounded as he fucked you through the mind shattering ecstasy. 

“That's it. I got you baby.” He muttered in a low voice. He was set on lasting a bit longer but the way you clenched around him started to become too much. A few curses left his lips as his hips shuddered and he slammed into you one last time, painting your quivering walls with his warm cum. It was all it took to have you trembling on top of him, your own orgasm still overtaking your senses. He slid his hands over your thighs, rubbing softly as your body jerked from the short aftershocks. You leaned your head into the crook of his neck as your breaths evened out, just enjoying his touch. 

“You still with me gorgeous?” He asked as a wide grin broke out on his face. Your eyes were glazed over but you nodded, letting him know you were alright. “Good, turn around and bend over for me.” You raised a brow before standing to turn your body. You were now facing the other couple, bent at the hips as you felt some of his cum drip out of you. Jeonghan was rubbing circles around Crystal's throbbing bud while her own fingers pistoned in and out of her wet pussy. Seungcheol broke your gaze as he grabbed onto your shoulder and pulled you down into his lap, his cock slipping back into your folds.

You threw your head back as he bottomed out, keeping you full of his cum from his previous release. Your eyes fluttered closed as one of his hands intertwined with yours while the other held onto your hip. You started to push your ass back to meet his thrusts as the tip of his cock slammed against your g spot as he fucks into you.

“Did Crystal enjoy her gift?” He grunts but the only sound you produce are soft whines as his cock drags along your warm walls. “Why don't you ask her.” 

“Did you like your……fuck…your gift?” Your words basically got fucked out of you as your eyes flickered to her being bent over by your boyfriend's best friend. She gave a couple nods but her intense stare only fueled the fire that was already burning within you and Seungcheol. 

“Look at her. Seems like she enjoys watching you get fucked. Didn't know she'd be that into it. We better give her a good show then. What do you think princess?” You could even respond as the knot in your stomach grew and your second orgasm neared.

“She can be a bit of a whore sometimes. But she's a well behaved whore.” Jeonghan responded as he fell into the world of bliss, rutting into Crystal on the bed. 

Seungcheol suddenly pulled you against his chest, cock still inside you as he moved your legs over his thighs before lifting his hips to slam into you. You can feel every curve and vein of his cock at this new angle. His brutal pace rips a sinful shriek from you as you hold onto his knees to keep yourself steady, even though he’d never let you fall. He reached around you to find your clit and your head lulls back into his shoulder. His index finger and middle finger flicking at the small bud to pull another orgasm out of you. “Fuck, daddy gonna cum. Don't stop. Fuck! Please don't stop!” 

Seungcheol felt it coming before you did. The way your pussy clamped down and tried to push him out was enough to let him know of the mess that was about to occur. His hips pounded into you harder and you grabbed hold of his wrist. Your attempts to pull him away from your clit was futile as he abused the bundle of nerves until you snapped. When the dam in your stomach finally broke your mouth dropped open and you arched off of his chest. Luckily he pulled out in time to watch the rush of liquid pour out from you onto the couch and carpet below you. He let out a low grunt as he slapped his cock against your clit, prolonging the sensation of you squirting all over him. He wants to drain you of every drop. 

Crystal had her own orgasm slam down on her when she saw that you squirted. Jeonghan fucked her through it before chasing his own release soon after. 

Seungcheol pushed back into you, the coil in the pit of his stomach tightening. His thrust became erratic and you turned to pull him in a feverish kiss. He groaned against your lips and you held him close as he started to cum. His breath fanned over your face and you took the chance to slip your tongue in his parted lips while you milked his cock for all his cum. He returned the kiss as he filled you to the brim, fucking you slowly to rode out his high. You moaned as his cum spilled out with every draw of his hips before he stills inside you, using your pussy like a personal cock sleeve. After a couple of minutes you hadn't even realized that Jeonghan and Crystal had left the room and it finally dawned on you. They watched you have sex. You covered your face as Seungcheol laid his head back laughing at your sudden embarrassment. 

“It's a little late for that princess. We should probably head back out there.” You shivered as he pulled out of you, jumping slightly when his tip grazed your throbbing clit. 

“I want more.” You mumbled, against his neck, still recovering from your orgasms, embarrassment gone as quick as it came. He placed a soft kiss on your temple as he fixed his pants and your underwear. 

“Keep my cum nice and warm for me till we get home. Then I'll be happy to give you what you want.” 

[deadsetobsessions]

Damian’s hands were once meant to create. He remembered the early days at mother’s side, impressing whirls of wild colors on quality pieces of paper and delighting in their beauty. He was just Damian, then. Sometimes, he was his mother’s beloved son and sometimes he was that and just Damian. He loved being just Damian, when the colors were bright and each spread of color brought life and love and tenderness. His mother tucked away those drawings in a secret compartment, to be enjoyed by herself in private. To love him, in private.

Then he became Damian al Ghul and colors were leeched out of his life. Not so much as leeched out. If anything, they got more intense. But where variety and brightness once claimed his attention, only red and black and gold held it now. So had his grandfather decreed, so he must obey. He unraveled skin, to get that nauseating shade of red. He was taught to be of worth, for without it, without the skills he mastered, Damian al Ghul was just Damian, and Damian was nothing. Damian al Ghul’s hands were not meant to create. They were meant for destruction. To spill only red, to wear only black intertwined with gold. To obey the greens of his grandfather’s robes. To see that green reflected in his own eyes and to know that grandfather was mad. Mad, but powerful. Insane with bloodlust and power hungry. Still, mother had gone cold. She no longer showed the easy affection with just Damian. So he obeyed, because that was all he knew how to do, how to love.

Then he became Damian al Ghul-Wayne. He spilt the blood of those who were proclaimed his brothers without a shred of proof they were his betters. Because they had to be his betters to be his brothers and he attacked them over and over and they would not put him down to prove themselves. And father perplexed him, because he asked Damian al Ghul-Wayne to hurt but not end, to partially break but not fully destroy. So he learns to gentle himself. But as time went on and his brothers refused to hurt him in any meaningful way, to assert their place in the hierarchy despite his challenges, Damian al Ghul-Wayne learns to love them. He learns to be, if not kind, then not harmful. To nurture, through his love of animals.

He apologizes to his brothers, in the only way he was taught, with sharp words and a reliable presence at their back. He gave them his back, turned and allowed them to walk behind, because that expression of trust was the only way he could tell them they’re welcome to stab him in the back for his transgressions. He thinks they get it, considering their support in bullying his father into getting his various pets. And, once he learned how to say it with words because it meant more to them, they forgave him with words. And guilt tripped him, but Damian allowed it for a period of time. A bit of guilt tripping for attempted murder is… an unfair trade for them.

And when he became Damian Wayne, it was an easel and an extensive paint set placed beside it that settled the name fully on his shoulders. A weight he willingly bears because the colors are back in his life again. Damian Wayne stalled at the door to the converted sunroom. A studio.

“It’s yours, Master Damian.” Alfred Pennyworth placed his hand on Damian Wayne’s shoulder. A welcome home. A sign of acceptance.

Numb, numb lips parted to ask, “Mine..?”

“We had thought this would be an appropriate gift for your birthday. Your siblings put quite a bit of work into remodeling it, with our help.”

Damian knew exactly where they got the idea. His gaze had lingered too long at the paintings in a gala they were forced to go to, and Timothy was by his side, eyes always sharp and knowing and kind.

He could see Richard’s influence in the awnings, high places painted with bright colors and little blobs of things. He could see father’s influence, in the way the furniture was optimally placed. Barbara’s touch in the high tech music center, and remote monitoring system. Jason’s in the hidden weapons around the room, league trained and knowing that it would help Damian feel secure in this new area of his life. Timothy’s influence that all of this happened to begin with, without Damian’s knowledge nor suspicion. Alfred’s influence in the accessible doors and food bowls and conveniently placed bed for Titus.

And later, the rest of his family will swing by and leave impressions of themselves (to Damian’s disgruntlement, literal impressions) in his room. But for now?

Right now, it feels like acceptance. It feels like love. It feels like he could be Just Damian again.

“It is acceptable.” He said, running over gentle fingers over the selection of brushes and tubes of paints. His gentleness belies the cold words, and Alfred Pennyworth knows that this is high praise coming from Damian.

“Very good, Master Damian.” Alfred Pennyworth replied.

And then Damian al Ghul-Wayne isn’t sure-

“I… am allowed?”

Alfred Pennyworth’s eyes darken with sadness, but his face remains impeccably unaffected. Damian thinks that’s why he understood Damian’s learned coldness the best.

“Yes. This is, after all, your birthday gift to be enjoyed whenever you see fit.”

Just like that, Damian knows he isn’t just Damian anymore. He’s Damian Wayne because just Damian did not have this, did not have them. Damian nodded decisively and picked up his brush. He squeezed out paint and, as Richard might say, “went to town.”

With every stroke of the brush, every color smeared onto blank canvas, a smile steadily grew in his face. Damian looses himself once more in the colors and swirls and shapes and does not see his family gathered at the door marveling at the pure unfiltered joy, the first they’ve ever truly witnessed, on his face.

He does not notice when they leave, filtering away and feeling proud at themselves, because Damian Wanyne found his colors again. His hands were no longer just meant for creating or destruction. His hands learned to do both, to express what he himself could not. His canvases were proudly displayed around his home.

Damian Wayne thinks he’s found family. He think he’s found a bit of himself.

[unmotivatedwrit3r]

why do we go back?

damian wayne x reader

warnings: anxiety, kind of a panic attack?, implied past trauma/abuse

wc: 800

~~

“I went back.”

“Why? They—”

“I don’t know. I don’t know why. I—” 

“Damian, honey, breathe.” 

-

Damian’s brothers don’t text you that often. You don’t have their numbers saved in your phone. Or you didn’t. You have Tim’s now. 

come to the manor now. non-medical emergency 

oh and this is tim by the way 

You don’t even see the text until you’re done with your meeting, phone on do not disturb and notes document in fullscreen mode. It was sent at 1:30 in the afternoon. Bad things aren’t supposed to happen at 1:30 in the afternoon. 

I’m on my way, you text back at 3:00. Is he okay? The response comes as you’re setting up your gps. no. then, i mean he’s fine but no. You pull out of your parking spot a little faster than you should have. 

Once you get on the highway, you turn off the GPS. The number 21 exit towards Bristol and Wayne manor is nearly as familiar as your own. You’re thankful for the dozens of trips you’ve made because Tim calls you five minutes in. 

“What happened?” You can feel your heart pounding in your chest. The anxiety that had taken root when you saw the first text is morphing quickly into fear. 

“He disappeared.” 

“What?” 

“He’s not on manor grounds anymore. But he’s not in his suit.” 

On top of the phone call screen, a push notification lets you know that Damian's code was used to disarm your alarm system. You let out a short breath and switch lanes. Your exit is the next one. 

“I know where he is,” you tell Tim as you shift over into the right lane. It’s a little backed up, the way it always is this time of day, “I got him.”

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, thanks.” 

You take exit 24 towards the lower east side, then switch to an even more local highway and take exit 8 towards the residential district. When you pull into your parking spot in the cul-de-sac, your house looks empty. When you walk inside, Damian’s combat boots are sitting by the door, not unlaced all the way. One of them is sitting on its side. The other is askew. You let your bag slide off your shoulder to hit the ground next to your own shoes and venture further in. 

Damian’s sitting on the steps in dark casual clothes and white socks with a paint blob pattern. His knees are bent, legs pressed against his chest. Your steps aren’t steep and Damian is very tall. Hands clenched into fists rest on top of his knees. His neck is bent too, forehead pressed against his fists. 

You slide back on the wooden steps when you sit down. Damian doesn’t so much as twitch. You wait for him to come to you. He does. 

“I went back.” His voice is rough but not thick with tears. 

“Why?” You ask. The League leaves him with deep hurts every time he goes back to Nanda Parbat. And not the physical kind. “They—”

“I don’t know!” He exclaims like the words burst out of his chest. The energy propels him up, fingers digging into the arms of his sweatshirt as he rocks on his heels. “I don’t know why. I—” 

“Damian, honey,” You stand to meet him. The emotions in his green eyes are wild, untethered. “Breathe.” He shakes his head at you, fingers curling harder into his sleeves. “You can.” Damian scans your body language and you let him, relaxing the tension in your shoulders and leaving your hands open, arms angled to hold him if he wants it. 

“I’m here,” you say to the hesitation in his eyes. “You’re safe.”

You let out a grunt of air as Damian slams into you. His arms wrap around you tight enough that you think he’s afraid you’ll turn into smoke if he lets go. You raise your arms more slowly, one coming up to rub at his back and the other to cup the back of his neck.His knees buckle. You slow your descent to the ground only barely, saving your knees from catching the brunt of your weight. Your butt stings instead from how hard it hit the floor but it’s worth it when Damian buries his face into the junction between your neck and your collarbone and breathes. They’re choppy loud breaths that come with shoulders shuddering under the hand you have rubbing up and down his back, but no tears hit your neck. 

“I’ve got you,” you whisper to him, cheek pressed against the top of his head. “You’re safe here.” Damian’s arms only tighten further. In response, you hold him tighter too. 

Why do we go back, you wonder, when we know the only thing to come of it is more pain? 

[headspace-hotel]

So I'm absolutely not an expert on the subject, and this post is just a bunch of thoughts I've been turning over in my head a lot, but: on the subject of Industrial Agriculture, the Earth's carrying capacity, and agroforestry

Writings from people who propose policy changes to secure the future of Earth treat energy use by organisms in (what seems to me like) the most infuriatingly presumptive, simplistic terms and I don't know why or what's wrong or what I'm missing here.

Humans have to use some share of the solar energy that reaches Earth to continue existing.

The first problem is when writers appear to assume that our current use of solar energy via the agricultural system (we grow plants that turns the light into food.) already is maximally efficient.

The second problem is when writers see land as having one "use" that excludes all other uses, including by other organisms.

The way i see it, the thing is, we learned how to farm from natural environments. Plant communities and farms are doing the same thing, capturing energy from the Sun and creating biomass, right? The idea of farming is to make it so that as much as possible of that biomass is stuff that can be human food.

So instead of examining the most efficient crops or even the most efficient agricultural systems, I think we need to examine the most efficient natural ecosystems and how they do it.

What I'm saying is...in agricultural systems where a sunbeam can hit bare dirt instead of a leaf, that's inefficiency. In agricultural systems where the nutrients in dead plant matter are eroded away instead of building the soil, that's inefficiency. Industrial agriculture is hemorrhaging inefficiency. And it's not only that, it's that industrial agriculture causes topsoil to become degraded, which is basically gaining today's productivity by taking out a loan from the future.

I first started thinking about this with lawns: a big problem with monocultures is ultimately that they occupy a single niche.

In the wild, plant communities form layers of plants that occupy different niches in space. So in a forest you have your canopy, your understory, your forest floor with herbaceous plants, and you have mosses and epiphytes, and basically if any sunbeams aren't soaked up by the big guys in the canopy, they're likely to land on SOME leaf or other.

Monocultures like lawns are so damn hard to sustain because they're like a restaurant with one guy in it and 20 empty tables, and every table is loaded with delicious food. And right outside the restaurant is a whole crowd of hungry people.

Once the restaurant is at capacity and every table is full, people will stop coming in because there's no room. But as long as there's lots of room and lots of food, people will pour in!

So a sunny lawn has lots of food (sunlight) and lots of room (the soil and the air above the soil can fit a whole forest's worth of plant material). So nature is just bombing that space with aggressive weeds non-stop trying to fill those niches.

A monoculture corn field has a lot of the same problems. It could theoretically fit more plants, if those plants slotted into a niche that the corn didn't. Native Americans clear across the North American continent had the Three Sisters as part of their agricultural strategy—you've got corn, beans, and squash, and the squash fits the "understory" niche, and the corn provides a vertical support for the beans.

We dump so many herbicides on our monocultures. That's a symptom of inefficient use of the Sun, really. If the energy is going to plants we can't eat instead of plants we can, that's a major inefficiency.

But killing the weeds doesn't fully close up that inefficiency. It improves it, but ultimately, it's not like 100% of the energy the weeds would be using gets turned into food instead. It's just a hole, because the monoculture can't fulfill identical niches to the weeds.

The solution—the simple, brilliant solution that, to me, is starting to appear common throughout human agricultural history—is to eat the weeds too.

Dandelions are a common, aggressive weed. They're also an edible food crop.

In the USA, various species of Amaranth are our worst agricultural weeds. They were also the staple food crop that fed empires in Mesoamerica.

Purslane? Edible. Crabgrass? Edible.

A while back I noticed a correlation in the types of plants that don't form mycorrhizal associations. Pokeweed, purslane, amaranth—WEEDS. This makes perfect sense, because weeds are disaster species that pop up in disturbed soil, and disturbed soil isn't going to have much of a mycorrhizal network.

But, you know what else is non-mycorrhizal? Brassicas—ie the plant that humans bred into like 12 different vegetables including broccoli and brussels sprouts.

My hypothesis is that these guys were part of a Weed Recruitment Event wherein a common agricultural weed got domesticated into a secondary food crop. I bet the same thing happened with Amaranth. I bet—and this is my crazy theory here—I bet a lot of plants were domesticated not so much based on their use as food, but based on their willingness to grow in the agricultural fields that were being used for other crops.

So, Agroforestry.

Agroforestry has the potential for efficiency because it's closer to a more efficient and "complete" plant community.

People keep telling me, "Food forests are nowhere near as efficient as industrial agriculture, only industrial agriculture can feed the world!" and like. Sure, if you look at a forest, take stock of what things in it can be eaten, and tally up the calories as compared to a corn field (though the amount of edible stuff in a forest is way higher than you think).

But I think it's stupid to act like a Roundup-soaked corn field in Kansas amounts to the pinnacle of possible achievement in terms of agricultural productivity. It's a monoculture, it's hard to maintain and wasteful and leaves a lot of niches empty, and it's destroying the topsoil upon which we will depend for life in the future.

I think it's stupid to act like we can guess at what the most efficient possible food-producing system is. The people that came before us didn't spend thousands of years bioengineering near-inedible plants into staple food crops via just waiting for mutations to show up so that we, possessing actual ability to alter genes in a targeted way, could invent some kind of bullshit number for the carrying capacity of Earth based on the productive capability of a monoculture corn field

Like, do you ever think about how insane domestication is? it's like if Shakespeare's plays were written by generation after generation of people who gave a bunch of monkeys typewriters and spent every day of their lives combing through the output for something worth keeping.

"How do we feed the human race" is a PAINFULLY solvable problem. The real issue is greed, politics, and capitalism...

...lucky for us, plants don't know what those things are.

[wutheringskies]

Wei Wuxian: The Untamed Hero

Wei Wuxian had to be killed even if:

1. He carried his sword

2. He didn't use gui dao

3. He didn't create Yin HuFu

4. The Wen remnants were not in the plot

Then, why? The reason is here, voiced by Jin Zixun of all people:

Wei WuXian, you are too bold! Did the LanlingJin Sect invite you today? And you dare run wild here. Do you really think that you’re invincible, that nobody has the courage to confront you? Do you want to overturn the Heavens?”

Wei WuXian smiled, “You’re comparing yourself to the Heavens? Excuse my language, but your face is a little too thick, isn’t it?”

So, you see, this untamed heart can only meet with tragedy as the world is unrighteous, as those who are in power think their actions cannot be contested (and they often aren't!), and that their words are like the law. How many times have we seen, a convicted powerful person escape the justice system? Far too many. And how many times innocents or victims were framed for crimes? Also too many. People like Wei Wuxian aren't condemned by fate, but rather, being born into a world where the "heavens" are those who are powerful and corrupted, he very well might be destined to live tragically, along with others of his type.

Returning to the matter of this particular scene: on one hand, the Jins throw private banquets, gilded with gold. The major scandals are: Jin Zixun is forcing the Lans to drink alcohol! You see, Lan Xichen can't outrightly refuse, so he is trying to be polite about his rejection. Jin Guangyao is trying to reason and excuse, and distract. The crowd spurs Jin Zixun on, wanting to see the Lans drink for once and fall to their level.

Everyone is in their own fine little world, doing their niceities in their golden halls drinking expensive wine, admiring pretty women, gasping at scandalous behavior, asking for favour, gossiping etc.

And then Wei Wuxian walks in. Uninvited. He simply drinks the wine himself, before demanding these people to spare him their time for real wordly issues, such as deaths, debts, cruelty, the parts that society wishes to hide. A few scenes later, we are shown with much description, just how terrible Qiongqi Path is. That's the Jin's backyard. You see their achievements that are drawn on those big walls? We see the reality of the people making them.

Now, let us come to another incident. Think of the soup incident. I fully expect before Wei Wuxian came into the scene, people were simply gossiping, uninterested in finding out what was going on, why Lady Jiang is crying. Then, Wei Wuxian comes and realizes Jiang Yanli who never really cries... was crying, and firstly decides to beat the shit out of Jin Zixuan. Secondly, he understands the whole truth, beats Jin Zixuan up for humiliating his Shijie, and also makes the other girl face responsibility.

Although his shijie had an easy temper, except for how they cuddled and cried together the day the three of them reunited after Lotus Pier was destroyed, she hadn’t really shed many tears in front of others, much less cry so loudly, so pitifully in front of so many people. Wei WuXian was filled with panic. As he tried to ask her, Jiang YanLi was crying so badly that she couldn’t even speak properly. Then, when he saw Jin ZiXuan standing on the side, astonished, he fumed with anger, wondering to himself why it was the dog of a person again. With a kick, he pounced on Jin ZiXuan. The fight between the two would have alerted the Heavens. All of the cultivators around the base came to break up their fight. Amid the ruckus, he finally understood what was the cause of all this, and became even more angered. He spread his tough talk, saying that one day he’d definitely make Jin ZiXuan die in his hands, he told people to drag out the cultivator woman.

A round of questions later, the truth emerged, and Jin ZiXuan’s entire body was frozen. No matter how much Wei WuXian continued to curse at him, he returned neither words nor fists, his face dark. If not that Jiang YanLi held up her hand a while later, while Jiang Cheng and Jin GuangShan came to pull Wei WuXian away, it was likely that even now Jin ZiXuan wouldn’t be able to attend the hunt of Phoenix Mountain.

See.

The point is, perhaps, people feel Wei Wuxian's actions are unnecessary. But imagine if he wasn't there! The consequences as I predict them will have been:

1. Jiang Cheng who doesn't want to upset a prominent clan would've grumbled and cursed underneath his breath, but eventually just moved away from the ruckus and taken his sister away.

2. Perhaps the truth would never have been found out, unless Jin Zixuan later searched by himself.

3. Thus, Jiang Yanli's reputation would be stained for the years to come.

It's because Wei Wuxian dared that the truth was revealed. I took this small incidents simply to highlight this, without the addition of more factors. In the book, often, it might seem like people are trying to stop him from creating trouble. You might often wish, ugh, this is going to be so bad... The point is Wei Wuxian knows! He's not stupid, he knows of the consequences of his actions.

But he isn't the one creating trouble. It was already created by the likes of those very people who try to stop him from investigating deeper. The trouble in question is that immoral and unrighteous words and actions and decisions have already been made. Society tries to hide them. If you can't see it, it's not there. Yet, even if it is not visible, a crime has its traces and it will bleed into their world sooner or later.

Wei Wuxian forces people to snap out of their comfort zones. He doesn't care for the barriers they set around themselves. Here are some examples to explain what I mean by these barriers:

Who dares hit Jin Zixuan, who's the only heir of LanlingJin, even when he deserves it? Protected by his status, his birth, his clan who dares? Wei Wuxian does.

Who dares to annoy Lan Wangji, the second jade of Lan, who from birth is considered otherwordly, strict, immovable, rigid, untouchable and protected by his extreme cold aura? Wei Wuxian dares.

Who dares to enter cultivation society without even wielding sword, without even cultivating a core? Wei Wuxian!

Since time unknown, treasures have belonged to the powerful sects: The Lan Clan and their library, their many secret techniques. The Jin clan and their treasures, their gold. The Nie Sabres. The Zidian. Yet, a son of a servant somehow ends up possessing the most powerful treasure all by his own! Everyone goes to this popular refinery, some famed blacksmith, or that popular sect to get specially created spiritual weapons, yet Chenqing, one of the most powerful weapons, was forged alone by Wei Wuxian during his 3 months in the Burial Mound!

Since years, the cultivation world has taken to heart rules of Lans, words of the powerful sects, and their leaders! Then, once again, this orphan child comes and bends the world and changes the cultivation society forever! Yiling Laozu said that... Yiling Laozu created... Yiling Laozu's manuscripts...

His words literally become the law.

Think of how 13 years after Wei Wuxian's death when "all was peaceful" despite us knowing very well, just how much shit happened after his death - slaughter of minor clans, deaths of two prominent sect leaders, xue yang etc (because, you know, most of it was purely accidental, kept hush-hush, or the victims were people who weren't important), he comes back to life and in a matter of a couple of months, upends the cultivation society again.

The "problem" is that this guy simply doesn't conform. The problem is that he is better. The problem is that he is not unnecessarily humble about it, despite his origins. He doesn't seem to treat himself as an outlier, but an equal. (That's why I hate insecure Wei Wuxian, like this guy is righteous enough he won't even treat himself badly.) The problem is that all those barriers - social classes, power, the locked doors - they won't keep him away.

Even if he was only the Jiang Da-shixiong with a bright golden core, he will still not be a conformist. To those who aren't used to having their decisions questioned, he is their worst enemy. To whose who are used to talking in circles, spreading rumors, he is asking them. What source do you have? What is the factual evidence behind what you are saying? Why are you saying this now?

Think of how he cross questioned a petty seller selling Yiling Laozu portraits in Qinghe, and how he questioned the gathered cultivation sects in Lotus Pier during Sisi and Bicao's intervention with the same sort of attitude. Surely, there was a major class difference, power difference between the two. Yet, they don't matter to him. What matters is the truth.

So, no matter what, when the people who are in power, start having too much dirty laundry and corpses in their backyards, he will definitely know. For this guy, knowing isn't enough - he will get to the crux of the issue. The problem is, he even has the skill for it. He has the ability. One also can't distract him with offers, promises, gifts, riches, status, women. He doesn't care for any of that. He perhaps might even hate one's victims. Yet he will stand up for them.

Of course, those who are in power, all smile at each other. They understand things sometimes have to be done. People sometimes have to be silenced. "We know better."

Then, Wei Wuxian comes in and says, actually you don't. He comes in with factual accounts, evidences, forces you to face your misdeeds. Says you're all a bunch of hypocritical people. No, perhaps what is worse is that he will make you realize that's what you are! Because he's got to be good at talking, too! He's not going to act on anger or be stunned in fear.

So, now you have someone who's not only digging into your evil deeds, someone who's capable, who's not easy to persuade, but also someone with high emotional intelligence who can play the same role as you do, of being a noble, accepted gentlemen with immaculate manners, of very high literacy and outdo you. Because this guy knows very well how society works, he can comprehend social cues perhaps better than you can. He can use your own polite words and nature against you.

It's precisely because of this he must be killed. Perhaps, in every world, Wei Wuxian will end up being the victim. It's only that in MDZS, these were the particular circumstances, and those were the particular excuses.

My personal take is: sometimes it is good to be a centrist, and hold everyone's better intentions in mind. most of the times it might not be, as there are many conflicting systems in place that allow for true victims who are stuck. most often, the victims are always the ones who DON'T have a voice, who are brushed over as numbers of corpses, rather than people with stories. most often, kindness is shown in little action that are trampled upon by those who hold true power. most often the people who are good, who are heroes die young, or are hated and ridiculed, for speaking up for the victims. it's not right, and never will be.

if someone like wei wuxian or his presence in the book makes you uncomfortable it might be because you hold the "niceities" and the pleasantries to be of more importance than the issues at hand. just because something is too troublesome doesn't mean it is wrong. if everytime he enters the scene you're scared of what he's going to do next, you should know it's not him who is the problem but the prople who aren't doing anything who are. don't be scared of "trouble-makers." he's not erratic or spontaneous. he has considered society's standards and deemed it useless. why is that that the koi tower scene, where he is in his "yiling laozu, loss of control, threatening" moment is followed immediately by him being extremely kind to Wen qing ? it's not that he's losing control. it's that Jin Zixun wouldn't have acted and told him where the people were without him using intimidation tactics. Wei Wuxian is the one forced into bad corners by the powerful people, where he has to show his edges. Don't end up twisted the narratives. if you bite someone for a while, expect to be hit.

[thefirstknife]

Information about the new stuff for Destiny! I recommend reading the articles starting with this one. Some really cool and exciting possibilities. All of it is still very early so we don't know details, but we did get some images!

The next two are super exciting, I'll go wild in the speculation so it'll be under read more:

No clue what these are. They've teased that we'll be going to new places and especially leaving the solar system. The second picture even shows an unfamiliar sky with two planets/moons. But the technology on the ground is human (aside from the white floating things which is potentially human, but could also be something else) and it seems like it's been here a while so I don't think this is us freshly arriving. Or, depending how this will proceed, maybe it is. Perhaps some ships could be sent ahead of time and by the time we get there in person, they'll be in this state?

The ship in the first image feels old though, and it's in what looks like a dry water bed (sea? river? lake?). Feels alien with the weird things floating in the sky, but the actual ship looks very old.

If we're talking Golden Age colonisation projects, there aren't many options here to explore. We know they had projects, but everything we know about them is that they failed due to the Collapse. Exodus ships never made it out; the only one we know about that did is Indigo which ended up only reaching Neptune. We know Exodus Black had a target outside of the system (Kepler-186) but that ended up crashing on Nessus. It's always possible that there's some other previously unaccounted for Exodus ship that did make it out and we just didn't know about it which makes sense given the Collapse and a total loss of information.

Clovis had the ECHO project which was supposed to go to Andromeda, but one ship never launched and one was stolen by Soteria and crashed on Neptune. There's one peculiar lore tab I've really never forgotten about that mentions what appears to be some sort of a transmission around the time of the Collapse of someone attempting to escape the system and, well:

"If I rig the pod just so, I should make it to Ross 128 b before the systems die. I can rally some ships and try to make it back."

The mention of going there, "rallying ships" and coming back implies there's ships to rally at that location which further implies there's a living colony. I've always been intrigued by this lore tab and there's never been any sort of elaboration on it. Once again, it makes sense because even if people of the Golden Age settled somewhere out of the solar system, we simply wouldn't know about it unless those both survived and were able to reach back to us. Given the state of this technology in the images, perhaps the colony failed, possibly because of the loss of contact with Earth and resources before it could be properly set up. Both Kepler-186 and Ross 128b are real exoplanet locations btw.

Anyway, we have no idea what this is and as much as I like speculating, I hope it's something wild that we can't possibly guess. I just wanted to go into some of this because it's cool and exciting to think of the possibilities that have been mentioned but never explored.

There's other options as well. My first thought over the first image before I saw the second one was Panama Ravine, with the dried out water bed and the ship, but I think that feels a little too small as an exciting new "frontiers" location. Because it would just be Earth. But the second image shows an unfamiliar sky so!

There's other possible options including stuff we can't really even begin to imagine because it hinges on stuff that will be happening next two episodes. They said that the next two episodes will be hinting at what this is and where we're going.

Really intrigued about all of this as I have been since they teased Frontiers! So clear that they plan on taking us to completely new places and I can't wait to see what they have planned.

I do have some concerns about the plans with how content will be delivered. Two expansions, even smaller ones, is a lot of work, on top of free seasonal updates. My main concern is that after the layoffs and downsizing of the studio, this will be tough on the employees which might once again lead to crunch and insane demands. I want people to keep that in mind when we talk about our expectations for this content. It would feel bad not to mention this. I'm excited but also I don't want to forget everything that happened and how this might be affecting the team. I'm also not sure if it's the right way to go back to four 3-month cycles again instead of keeping three longer episodes, but since it's a different type of a cycle, who knows.

Either way I'm excited and I'm excited about all the future information they'll be sharing over the months to come.

[prodbyton]

Pervy wonbin at a party and he fucks you

actually writing a wonbin fic with almost the same concept as this…

but imagine wonbin who’s secretly been eyeing you for a few months. you two had a class together in university, and you had sat next to him first day of the semester when there were no more seats taken. he was quiet around you, and you just assumed he was shy.

he wasn’t usually this quiet, but you made him nervous. the way your perfume was so strong and it was all he could smell for the hour and a half class, and even after you had left the room the scent of you would linger in his nose. he would go to his room, look up your instagram handle and jerk off to your highlights each time.

so when he saw you at this party, in clothes that you didn’t wear in class, he knew he had to have you. the skirt you wore was so short, and he was praying that he could get close enough to you to get you to bend over in front of him. and the top that hugged your tits perfectly, he just wanted to put his hands on them, and his mouth.

after a few shots, you were starting to feel the liquor. everyone in the party had moved to a different area to play beer pong, but you opted on being a moral support for your friends. a warm hand grazed your waist and a soft excuse me left the mystery persons lips as they tried to move next to you. before you could retaliate to the unwanted touching, you realized who the person was.

“wonbin?” you look up confused, not expecting to see the boy at a party like this. he was so quiet next to you in class you wouldn’t think that he’d hang around people this wild.

“y/n!” his voice was almost slurred, and you could tell the both of you definitely had a couple drinks in your systems.

“what are you doing at a party like this?”

“oh yknow… im friends with the host. i’ve never seen you at one of his parties before, what brings you here?” he eyes you, and you suddenly feel shy under his gaze. he didn’t have that soft look to him right now like he usually had. it was dark, and you didn’t know if you liked it.

“free alcohol, hot guys, the usual college party!” you laugh, and he nods along with you before you turn back to watch the game of beer pong in front of you.

getting to the bottom of your cup of vodka redbull, you try to push your way through the crowd of people to get to the kitchen. little did you know, that wonbin was following close behind you. once you were in the kitchen, you finally noticed the long haired boy behind you. truthfully he was checking you out the entire time, the way you walked with so much confidence really entertained him. of course when you turned to see him, he looked away as if he wasn’t even there.

“didn’t know you were following me,” your voice was soft while you looked up at him, and he still had that dark look in his eyes.

“well yeah, wanted to make sure you didn’t get lost. also… we have the good alcohol stored downstairs if you want that instead of this cheap vodka,” his voice lingered and your eyes lit up.

“wait, really?”

“for a pretty girl like you, of course. but i want something in return…”

thats how you ended up in the basement bathroom getting fucked by wonbin.

propped up on the sink counter, holding yourself up by your hands behind you, while he he has a hand on your waist and one around the back of your neck. you moan out, his cock bullying into your cunt with no sign of slowing down. his grip on your waist so tight you’re sure theres going to be a bruise when he lets you go.

his hoodie discarded somewhere on the bathroom floor, leaving him in just a white tank and his pants pooling at his ankles. he had your shirt lifted up so your tits would be on display for him, along with your skirt flipped up and tights ripped so he could see your dripping pussy while he fucked you.

“wonbin… fuck” you cry, one of your hands going to rest where his was on your waist. he swats it away, and you bring it back to its original position of holding you up.

his hand around the back of your neck prevented you from looking anywhere else that wasn’t at him, so your eyes switched from looking at his face to how his cock disappeared inside of you. it was honestly disgusting how lewd this was… fucking this boy you’ve never even had a complete conversation. the sounds of your pussy squelching and skin slapping filling the room, almost as loud as his groans and your whimpers.

“feels good, pretty girl?” his voice was like honey, but you felt like you wouldn’t be able to speak so you just give him a nod. he didn’t like that though, hand around your neck traveling to your face to hold you by your jaw. “words. need words”

his hand around your waist sliding down to pinch your clit with his thumb and index finger. “feels good! feels so good wonbin” voice hoarse, you look at the boy through your teary eyelashes. he lets out a chuckle in satisfaction, picking up his already impossibly fast pace while looking you in the eye.

“good girl, gonna fill this pretty pussy up” still holding you by your face, he leans in to put his mouth on yours. it was wet and sloppy, no real rhythm just teeth clashing and tongue’s colliding. other fingers swirl around your clit making it hard for you to kiss him back.

“gonna cum, wonbin” you moan into his mouth, biting his lip after the words slip out. his fingers add more pressure to your clit, making you lightheaded.

“go ahead and cum, pretty girl. make a mess all over my cock” his words were enough to make you reach your peak, the string in your core finally snapping as your orgasm hits. hands that rested behind you move to pull wonbin closer to you, now chest to chest as you shake under his body.

his own orgasm hits him, your cunt squeezing him so tight to where he could barely move, pumping his seed deep into you with a loud whimper.

the two of you stayed connected for a few minutes, before he pulled out and grabbed some toilet paper to clean you up. you try your best to make yourself look presentable before you go back upstairs, lipstick smudged and mascara running only slightly. thank the universe for waterproof mascara… you think.

“i’ll go get that vodka now,” wonbin is quick to put himself back in his pants and get his hoodie on, slipping out of the bathroom.

can u tell i got carried away with this one? it wasn’t too pervy but i hope you still liked it !!

[brighttears]

Safe

Joel Miller x reader

no physical description, no use of y/n

Summary: After a startle at breakfast in Jackson, Joel calms you down from a panic attack.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: graphic depictions of panic attack, negative self talk, pet names (baby, honey, sweetheart, darling)

A/n: just a lil somethin :3 also the panic attack is based off of personal experience just in case anyone is sus im not makin this shit up lol

—

Culture shock is the perfect term to use in relation to what it's like coming into Jackson after months on the road. It’s bright, vividly colored, large, loud, and always so fucking busy. You haven’t been around this many people since Boston, but so much has changed since then. It's been a few weeks now, but you still haven’t even figured out how to let your guard down. 

The dining hall is the worst part of the day. You will yourself to come and eat because you believe it is good for you, you need to get used to it, and you don’t want to other yourself by taking your plate outside. You feel separated enough already, like a wild animal being introduced into a zoo enclosure. But god, the scrapping utensils on plates, chewing, so much conversation, boisterous laughing, people getting up and down from their seats; so much open space with so much activity, you can barely keep your eyes down enough to be able to look at the food you’re trying to get into your mouth. But Joel is always right there with you, with a comforting hand on your thigh, grounding both you and him, eyes flicking around just as much as yours, and a matching sigh of relief once you make it back outside, with a ‘We did it’ or ‘Good job sweetheart’ to pick your spirits up. 

You don’t know what it is about today; nothing you can put your finger on, just some uneasy feeling that you woke up with. Some days are just like this, though, like a scratch you can’t itch somewhere in your brain, irritating your nervous system until whatever it is decides to let you out of its clutches. 

“Come on honey, time to go,” Joel says from the door as he pulls his jacket on. You let out a deep breath, staring out of the kitchen window with your arms crossed over your chest, an absentminded hand smoothing over your throat. Squeezing your arm with your other hand, you will yourself to move, leave the house, go down to the dining hall. Its just breakfast, just breakfast, just fucking breakfast. Come on. You can do this. You’ve been through much, much worse than this. Come on. 

“Hey,” Joel’s voice sounds suddenly from right behind you and you jump, sucking in a breath with a defensive hand jutting out towards him. 

“Fuck.” You breath back out, leaning down and pulling your hand back to you electrified chest, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” You shake your head, guilty and embarrassed for reacting like that to Joel, who you know wouldn’t even dream of hurting you. 

“It’s alright darlin’, it’s alright. You’re ok.” He coos. 

Blinking hard, you nod, “Yeah, sorry, you just startled me. I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t tryna sneak up on ya,”

“No, I know, it’s just… I don’t know, I just feel… off today.” You say as you straighten up.  

Joel meets you slowly, placing his hands on your arms. “You wanna just stay in this mornin’? I can go grab the food or have Tommy or Maria—”

“No, no, I can do it.” You interrupt him and swallow hard. 

“You sure? There’s no shame in—”

“No,” you shake your head, “I’m fine. It’s fine. I’ve been through worse.” You smirk, trying to lighten the mood. 

Joel returns a light smile. His eyes fall to your lips, and he leans in for a quick kiss before turning back to the door. His touch relaxes your shoulders and you take one more deep breath before following him outside. As you start down the road, his arm slides around your waist. Even just a small gesture like this from your man makes you feel safer. When you feel his breaths, deliberately deep and even, you follow suit, and the two of you prepare for the upcoming onslaught of breakfast. Despite your efforts, though, you can feel your heartbeat quicken as you near the doors.

As you enter, Joel’s arm slips from around you but you grasp each other's hands as you walk to the table that Tommy and Maria are already sat waiting at, both giving you a smile as you come to your seats. 

“A bit late this morning.” Maria says. 

“Slept in?” Tommy winks.

“No, uh, just, late morning, I guess.” Joel replies, not meeting their eyes, instead instinctively sweeping them over the room. You keep your own eyes locked on the table. 

“You ok?” Maria asks. When you look up, there’s concern in her eyes. 

“Yeah, fine.” You throw a smile and look back down at the table, still linked to Joel by your hands.

“Well food’s out and ready, we were just about to grab our own plates.” You hear Tommy. 

“Alright,” Joel says, letting go of your hand and moving to get up from his seat. Just as you finally let your gaze up from the table, a crash and a scream sounds from nearby, and without even thinking, you’re suddenly on your feet, stanced ready, a hand on your empty hip and an arm swung back towards Joel. A yelp escapes from your throat and your entire body is rigid and burning with panic, chest twisted so tight it won’t let you breathe, teeth clamped so hard it hurts.

Then, silence. All there is is your breath, jumping like snapped rubber bands, and the blood rushing in your ears. Eyes still pinned open, you force your neck to move and look around you. Hundreds of eyes look back at you. Everyone is staring. However, your head is empty of embarrassment, still full of threat, threat, threat, threat, threat. 

“It’s alright, honey,” sounds from behind you, then a hand on your arm, and you switch your stance to face the touch, grabbing the hand while your other fumbles for the weapon that is not on your hip. 

“It’s me, it’s jus’ me, baby, it’s alright, it’s me.” 

Your eyes blink rapidly as Joel’s face comes into focus, the blurry haze of panic slowly starting to clear. 

When you try to speak, your breaths stab out from your lungs. “What happened?” You finally get out. 

“Nothin’, sweetheart, someone just dropped somethin’. It’s ok. You’re safe. It’s alright.” He tells you, hands coming up to cup your cheeks. “It’s alright.” He whispers, focusing your eyes on his. “It’s alright.”

“Are you ok?” You hear yourself say.

His thumbs stroke your cheeks as he replies, “I’m fine. Nothin’ happened. We’re safe, baby. We’re safe.”

Though your brain is beginning to process and trust his words, you can’t move, only tremble. 

“Alright, let’s get you outta here.” Joel’s eyes come away from yours to flick around you, and that’s when you remember where you are. Muscles moving in snapping spurts, your neck jerks left and right, and still, hundreds of eyes look back at you. Now with room enough for it, embarrassment burns your entire face and neck. 

“It’s alright, honey,” you hear Joel, thumbs stroking your cheeks, bringing your attention back to him in front of you, “let’s jus’ get you outta here.” He nods, then shifts to beside you, one arm around your waist with his other hand rubbing your shoulder. You keep your head bowed, steps jagged with full body tremors. 

As soon as the outside air hits you, you begin to gasp, barely realizing that you’re sobbing. Joel catches you before you collapse. There's the panic, still shooting through you’ve been eletrocuted, but the humiliation is a whole other kind of overwhelming. “Fuck.” You cry into Joel. You bury your face deep into his shirt and jacket to muffle the screams that you can’t hold in. He squeezes his arms around you, rubbing your back, his chin resting on top of your head, whispering, “It’s alright, baby. It’s alright.”

“I’m such a fucking idiot.” You let out into him in between bawls. “I fucking hate this. I hate this.”

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. Come on, let’s get you back up to the house.”

Your trembling legs continue to betray you and you can’t get yourself to move. 

“I can’t–I can’t move.” You admit. 

“Alright, t’s alright, come on, baby,” He reassures, then hoists you up into his arms. Like a child, you wrap your legs around him, keeping your face buried in his collar, squeezing your eyes shut and attempting—with little success—to calm your breaths. The sobs fall out of you unrelenting as a waterfall. 

By the time you get to the house, your breathing has calmed some, but the shaking won’t stop. When Joel sets you on the ground you hobble up the short steps to the porch and through the door, and he keeps a comforting arm around you as he guides you to sit on the couch. He kneels down before you, stroking your cheek with his hand, trailing his eyes over your panicked frame before focusing them on yours.

“Deep breaths, baby, t’s alright. Deep breaths.” He starts them and you follow, breathing deeply in through your nose, holding, and blowing out through your mouth. 

“Where are we?” He asks. 

“At the–the house.”

“Where’s the house, baby?”

“Jackson. In Jackson.” 

“Thas’ right,” Joel cups your face, “we’re at the compound. We’re safe here, sweetheart. I promise. We’re safe. Nothin’s gonna hurt you.” He nods, you swallow hard and then let out another shaky breath and nod with him. 

Your trembling shoe taps the floor. When you still it, your shoulders start to shake. “Fuck.” You close your eyes, cursing yourself. “I’m so fucking stupid, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, you’re not stupid. How many times you been here with me like this? This stuff happens. You’re not stupid. T’s alright. Look at me baby,” you do, and he repeats, “T’s arlight. You’re not stupid.” Joel shakes his head, eyes still keeping yours. One hand shifts down to your fist, which you hadn’t even noticed bring clenched closed. “Let me get you some water.”

When he moves to get up, your hand shoots out to grip the lapel of his jacket. “Don’t leave.”

“I’m not leavin’, sweetheart. I’m jus’ goin’ to the kitchen. I’ll be right over there. Won’t take two seconds.” Joel gently takes your hand off of his coat, raising his eyebrows with a reassuring look, then gets to his feet. You turn on the couch, watching him go to the sink to fill up a glass for you. “I’m right here, see?” He says on his way back to you. You nod, eyes staying trained on him as he kneels back down in front of you. When the cup shakes in your hand, he keeps his on it, delicately helping it to your lips. The water cools your throat, helping you to ground yourself. You empty it into your throat and then take a couple more deep breaths. “That feel better?” You nod. “Alright.” Joel sighs, setting the glass down on the floor next to him to take your face in his hands again, then bringing his face up to kiss your forehead. “Alright, baby.” He says again. “This stuff happens. I get the same way, I bet plenty a people in there have done the same thing. T’s a lot in there. You’re not used to all that. Neither am I. Todays just a bad day, huh?” You sniffle and nod. “Now, you’re not stupid. Ok?”

“Ok.” you finally speak. 

“Alright. You wanna go lay down?” You nod, voicebox still not too confident. “Come on, darlin’.” Joel lets go of your face, reaching one hand around your back and the other to your legs for you to shift into his arms bridal style. You wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in his collar, inhaling his scent of love and safety as the stairs creak under Joel’s feet taking you upstairs. 

When you look up at him as he lets you down on the bed, his brow is furrowed with concern and there's sadness in his deep eyes. 

Ashamed, you instantly look away. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to make you worry.”

“Baby I’m gonna worry no matter what you do.” He sits down on the bed next to you and strokes his hand over your cheek again, “You did nothin’ wrong. Don’t go hatin’ yourself for it. It’s not like you did this on purpose. Right?”

You shake your head and lean into his touch. Joel’s eyes land on your lips and remain there until he leans in to kiss you, slipping your bottom lip between his, and you reach your hands up to hang onto him. Knitting your hands into his locks with his stubbly cheek under your hand, you indulge in him. 

Pulling away, he says, “Lay down with me, darlin’,” already with his hand on your back to slowly guide your back down on the bed. He keeps his head above you to meet your lips again, gentle yet firm, honeyed and warm. Closing your eyes, the pressure of his body next to yours, hand on your waist, and his lips on yours begins to relieve the pressure in your bones. Slowly, you feel yourself relaxing, though your foot still twitches in your boot, the residual aftermath of a panic attack. 

Joel’s hand smooths over your cheek as he deepens the kiss, the sigh from his nose breathed over your face. When he pulls away, he shifts his arms to rest his hands on your face and stroke his thumbs over your cheeks. His eyes wander over you with lazy lids, his brow still lightly furrowed and bottom lip slightly pouted and wet from your mouth. He sighs again, then whispers “I love you so much.”

“I love you.” You whisper back, looking over his face. 

Joel leans down to rub his nose back and forth over yours, then sprinkles light kisses over your cheeks, forehead, by your ear, the corner of your mouth, and over your jaw. Then he shifts his body to lie down, tilting your hips towards him with a soft “C’mere,” and you lay your head on his chest, bending your knee to rest your leg over his. Closing your eyes and inhaling again, you let your body weigh into his and grip his lapel. Tears ball up in the corner of your eyes. 

You used to lay like this frequently on the road, keeping each other close, hanging on to the only sanity you knew. The lack thereof surrounding you protected you enough from falling asleep despite the relaxation it granted you, and you’d do it to watch the sun rise or set whenever you could catch it. When you did sleep though, you’d stay united, someone’s head on each other’s chest or leg. 

On the same train of thought as you, Joel speaks, the bass in your ear on his chest, “Maybe sometime we could actually fall asleep like this.”

“Not now, I can’t sleep now.” You mumble. 

“I know, darlin’. Too worked up for it now.” His hand brushes up and down your back, “T’s alright. Jus’ layin’.” Joel smacks a kiss on the top of your head, then sighs again, your head rising and falling with it, and wraps both arms around you. “We got time. N’ we’ll get used to it here. Get used to bein’ safe.”

[randombush3]

you made your mark on me

mapi león x reader

summary: you fuck up the arrangement

words: 2497

notes: it’s kinda rushed and sad but we move and we allow it 😜

also i’ve decided that i like mapi and ingrid too much to write for them because they’re too perfect 😩😩😩😩

requested by my fav @xsophiesx

Mapi has been your best friend for as long as you can remember. Longer, even.

Through earthquakes and mistakes and times where you shouldn’t have done something you did, she has seen the best in you, and made you believe it too.

She makes you feel loved. In a friendly way.

But, recently, those feelings have shifted; made way for something of a different kind. Lust. Desire. The urge to ruin a friendship with reckless abandon, because your best friend is too attractive to resist. It helps that Mapi agrees. Agreed. Invited you over, peeled back the years of support and love, took you to her bed and made you see just how much a person could worship you. Should worship you.

She tells you such, over and over, kissing scars she has helped to heal. You do the same, forgetting how bad of an idea it is. Because, since that first night, Mapi has become more than a friend, more than the woman who held you when you cried. Deep down, you know that she has always been more than that, but it’s Mapi’s casualness that makes you think she is only extending your friendship slightly. Friends with benefits. Mapi knows how to do that.

She teaches you how to do it, too.

Your teammates are oblivious to the signs, aware of your affection for each other, thinking nothing of how the simplest of touches have had their meanings completely altered. You are certain that you are grateful they do not know, but, as your skin burns under Mapi’s firm hold, you wish that they did. It feels like you are dreaming. Maybe their awareness would confirm that this is real.

In this crowded room, Mapi only seems to have eyes for you. “She looks really good tonight,” Alexia comments off-handedly, not thinking anything of it. Not knowing that Mapi’s fingers are itching to tear the sequined material of the, frankly, criminal dress you are wearing tonight, not aware of how she wants to unwrap you like a highly-anticipated birthday present.

You feel good tonight. The alcohol in your system has made you forget about the stress of the season, and Pina has coaxed you into dancing with her, which frees up your body like you are finally able to take a breath of fresh air.

“I only have pretty friends,” Mapi replies, earning a flick on the arm from Alexia, who finds taking most compliments to be an impossible task.

As the two women watch you, hair wild, eyes closed, one of them thinks about how lucky she is to have you in her life. Under her clothes, she sports an indention of you. A ghost of earlier nights. Memories. A golden tattoo.

…

It’s a bit later on in the night when you approach your best friend.

Mapi is now equally drunk, though she steers clear of the dance floor.

You are apprehensive at first, the silence between you tense as she takes in how the dress has ridden up your thighs and you take in the definition of her abs displayed by the lack of fabric covering them.

Mapi decides that her patience has been more than commendable, and breaks first. “Let’s go,” she all but growls, reaching out to grasp your shaking hand, tugging you along with her to the exit.

Desperately waiting for her to say more, tell you how beautiful you look, confirm that she wants you too, you allow her to lead the dance of sneaking away from your friends, finding the route home, unlocking her apartment while your lips kiss her neck.

Once inside, she backs you against the nearest wall, relentless in her assault. Though she hasn’t spoken, you hear the thrum of her heartbeat, smell the scent of her hunger. Her desire for you.

“I need you,” you gasp against her lips, still combatting her silence.

Her hands rest on your hips, holding you in place so that you can only squirm under the force of… What is it? Lust?

“I only bought this dress so you could take it off.”

Your confession makes her stop.

Your panting stills, as does the blur of a heated moment.

Mapi looks positively ravenous.

“Y/n.” You bite your lip.

You don’t want her like a best friend.

…

It hits you like a truck.

Well, two trucks.

The first, a raging hangover, the alcohol still in your body now some concoction of toxins.

And the second, the fact that something may have slipped out last night.

There was a lot going on. The dress was ruined, torn in two by eager hands. Mapi seemed different.

Hours later, she was still going, though you were certain her initial lust had been sated. And it got sloppy and emotional and intimate. And you may have told her something that would be completely normal to say in any other context.

What’s worse, you can’t remember whether or not she said it back.

Opening your eyes to the soft morning light, you groan as you roll over in Mapi’s bed, anxiety settling in your stomach. She wakes up before you – has been doing so since your sleepovers involved more clothes and less kissing – but you are unsure if she has abandoned you for a morning run. Because, if you did tell her you loved her last night, surely Mapi will regret ever kissing you in the first place.

The thought of losing her is worse than her not loving you back. You feel nauseous.

“Hello.” You jolt upright, sheets clutched to your bare chest. Mapi leans on the wooden frame of her bedroom doorway, arms folded in front of her, a smirk on her lips at the sight of you. You are so incredibly breath-taking, and she is glad to be able to see you like this.

Naked, in her bed. And you’re hers. Sort of.

“Mapi…” you start, unsure of the proper protocol for this situation. It’s not the first time you have slept together, yet it feels more awkward than that. The fact that she might regret this, might never want to see you again, gnaws away at your words, leaving you speechless. “I was drunk.”

“So was I.”

“I didn’t mean what I said.” Her brows furrow, and there is a brief moment of sheer panic in which you think you only imagine the words slipping through your lips. But, in truth, Mapi is wondering why you are lying to her. Because someone who tells you that they love you, whispering it on repeat as though it is the only sentence in the world that matters, must be telling the truth. “A-and, I mean, this was clearly a mistake. I don’t think we should carry on. Maybe we should just be friends?”

You don’t notice the implication of your words, but Mapi’s heart is too busy breaking for her to argue. “Yeah,” she replies, dejected. “Yeah, if that’s what you want.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, gathering your clothes from their heap on the floor, hastily pulling on your underwear. She looks at the hoodie she had set out on the bed for when you woke up, having wanted you to be comfortable before she asked you if you would like to get coffee with her later. Because, when you told her that you loved her, and she had instantly said she loved you too, she thought she could finally make the move she has been too pathetic to make.

Clearly, she was wrong. You said it because that’s what people are meant to say during sex, most-likely. Mapi feels like an idiot for even thinking she would be good enough for you.

…

Alexia and you are practising free kicks after training when the captain catches your frown lasting longer than usual as you send the ball soaring hectares wide of the net. It’s been a few days since you left Mapi’s apartment, and you haven’t spoken to her since.

It’s killing you to lose your best friend like this, especially when you have no one but yourself to blame.

You kick the grass in frustration as Sandra saves your next attempt, and it is then that Alexia decides to say something. She signals for the goalkeeper to rehydrate far away enough to be out of earshot, and then places both hands on your shoulders, grounding you before the tears can well up in your eyes.

She doesn’t have to ask you what is wrong, because it comes spilling out as soon as you open your mouth to tell her that you are fine.

And she listens, wondering how two of the most compassionate women she knows have managed to fuck such a simple thing up.

For Alexia, the solution to this world-ending problem is obvious: tell her how you feel. “She feels the same, you know. She always has,” your captain says matter-of-factly, dropping her hands to her sides to pull you into a hug. “I can’t believe you two fucked before realising you have been a couple this whole time.” Her chuckle is not helpful, and she squeezes you one last time before releasing your tense body.

“Sorry?” you ask, not quite sure you heard her properly. You wipe your eyes and take in a deep breath, resolving to either get over Mapi or suck it up. Because, yeah, it’s a little embarrassing.

“Mapi loves you, idiota. Can you not tell?”

…

You go home to think about it.

Not home home, because your parents live too far away to fit in with your schedule, and not Mapi’s place, which is more comforting than your own four walls, but the apartment you bought when you decided to extend your contract at Barcelona.

In all honesty, you rarely spend time here. If you’re not at training, you’re out, and when you want to cuddle, there has always been an open door with a comfier sofa and better snacks. That door must be locked now.

Mapi can’t even look at you.

Fuck.

Have you woken up just in time? Or is it too late?

The words have already been said, though you still don’t recall them coming from her. Deluding yourself that you don’t love her is insane, because there is not a single emotion Mapi hasn’t made you feel. Hell, she even seems to invent new ones.

If you tell Mapi the truth and she doesn’t feel the same, there has to be a way to get through it. Maybe you simply take a step back, and don't spend as much time together. Stay in groups. Never go over to each other’s homes, or get trapped in small spaces.

It doesn’t occur to you that Mapi could love you. You are already planning how to salvage the friendship.

…

No tears left to cry and a speech rehearsed in your head, you are almost a tornado tearing through your apartment, set on getting to Mapi before any more damage is done.

You fling your door open, keys in one hand and a jacket in the other, and rush out to fix your mistake.

The figure waiting for you grunts as you fly into her, colliding with her, knocking the air from her lungs, and your apology is hurried out as to not waste time. Until you recognise the vanilla perfume. And the eyes that examine you with caution.

“Alexia told me that you wanted to talk?” she questions. Mapi, being the thoughtful person she is, assumed it would just be easier for her to go to you. It’s not like she has anything else to do without you occupying her spare time. “If you’re going out, I could come back another time. Or was she…” She takes in your horrified expression. “She lied to me.”

You hate how her voice cracks. How her shoulders slump.

But you are too stunned to say anything.

“I’m sorry. I’ll go.”

“Don’t.” You can’t bear to do this again: one of you leaves and the other’s world crumbles. “Alexia did lie, though.”

“Oh. Do you want to talk anyway?”

“What did Alexia say to you?”

Maybe. Just maybe.

Mapi shrugs. “To tell you how I feel.”

“And… how is that?” It feels as though the world has split in half, and this could go one of two ways. You force yourself to not cross your fingers.

“You are my best friend.”

The lump in your throat chokes you, and you want to disappear into the ground you are standing on. “Yeah. You’re mine, too.”

“No, no. Y/n.” She grabs your hands and holds them tightly, trying to get you to look at her. But you can’t. It’s too hard. “You didn’t let me finish.” She takes your silence as a sign to go on. “You’re my best friend, but recently I’ve realised that you mean so much more than that. I met you and you… you made a mark on me that has defined me as yours. And– And I love you. I have always loved you. I’m in love with you.”

“But…”

“I said it back!” she continues, exasperated. “Do you not remember?”

You shake your head. “You couldn’t love me. It’s not possible.”

“Well, it is, because I do.” She waits. She waits for what feels like an eternity, hopeful that you are going to say it back. That this will be easy as Alexia made it out to be. “You told me it was a mistake, but you never denied its meaning. You never took it back,” she urges.

“But I– Me? You love me?”

Mapi, who is so pure, who is good, who knows how to make anyone feel special, cannot just love you. She holds so much passion in her heart. She must be confused.

“Why wouldn’t I love you?” she replies indignantly.

“Because I love you too, and things don’t usually happen for me like this.”

And she laughs, grinning at you like she has caught you out. Like she has tricked you into saying yes to doing something you were reluctant to do.

“Well, soak it in, Y/n.”

She kisses you with unveiled meaning, and your knees almost give out.

…

When you tell Alexia about Mapi’s new label in your life, she decides to take full credit for it.

“I’m a genius,” she claims, wrapping her arms around the both of you, pleased to be the first to be told about the development. Three months down the line, and you couldn’t be happier that you get to kiss your best friend whenever you want. “Friends with benefits and the benefits are me officiating your wedding, right?”

“That would be so cool!” Mapi agrees with a grin. She wipes it off her face when she catches your expression. Her childish excitement is replaced with a gruff, serious clearing of her throat. “I mean, it would be, but it’s not going to happen.”

“Y/n, you’re making her less fun.”

“All your fault, genius.”

[cairavende]

My wonderful girlfriend got me Gideon the Ninth for Christmas and I realized why should I just give Worm recaps? Let's read some Locked Tomb! (We'll see how this format works, maybe I'll adjust it. Specifically might break stuff down into smaller segments instead of full acts, but I didn't think of doing this until after I had read all of act 1.)

Gideon the Ninth Act 1 (chapter 1 through 8) thoughts:

This book is so gay oh my god

Like, it's gay in ways I can't even explain. I love it.

Harrow beats the shit out of Gideon in chapter 2 and I don't know if I've ever seen someone get beat up in a more gay way.

"Oh Griddle! But I don't even remember about you most of the time." ROLL A FUCKING DECEPTION CHECK HARROW! You are saying this standing in the middle of the field you spent all night burying bones in just to foil her escape in the most dramatic way. You can't stop remembering her.

Gideon is the most herbo of herbos. I fucking love her. I love reading her PoV. She just knows punch and stab with sword and if those don't work than she'll just do them harder.

Also Gideon is SO fucking gay. Dear god. Dulcinea faints and Gideon turns off all though. HELP PRETTY GIRL. Nothing else.

Ok I could just make this whole thing "EVERYTHING IS GAY" but there is technically more than that.

I love how weird everything is and how little explanation is given. I don't want pages of exposition, I want to learn the world as it comes at me! This is perfect.

And just the very nature of things that seem weird not being given more than a passing thought in the book is information. Something may seem wild to the reader but it's so normalized to the characters that they wouldn't even think about the idea of it being different.

Lack of explanation also helps really show how much of a meathead Gideon is. Do the readers get to learn details about this thing? Only if it is a weapon, has tits, or Gideon is forced to listen while Harrow explains it. Otherwise no, why the fuck would Gideon spend her precious few brain cells on thinking?

And even if Gideon is forced to listen as Harrow explains it, the readers might not learn much cause Gideon might stop listening. I love her.

Aiglamene is wonderful. Crux is fine but I like her more.

Poor Gideon just wants a big sword that she can swing hard. It's not like she can't use a rapier. But why when she can go big sword?

SO MUCH CATHOLICISM

As someone who once was Catholic and then realized I was actually not a straight man, but instead a lesbian, I am in deep.

And the fucking slang used! Or whatever would be the right term. The shit they say! I love it. Just the weird sci-fi far future space necromancer universe and then suddenly "Are you asking me to . . . throw her a bone?", "Gideon had always known that this would be how she went: gangbanged to death by skeletons.", "Don’t hypothetically shove stuff up my butt again, it never does any good.", "Lo! A destructed ass.", "Well we were developing common sense, she studied the blade.", "Double Bones with Doctor Skelebone."

House of the First appears to be Earth. I kinda assume the House of the Ninth is Pluto, even though things obviously aren't in order given that the Seventh and Sixth are closer to the sun. Of course, I'm kinda expecting this to not technically be this solar system at all.

Undying Emperor, King of Resurrection, I Have Ten-Thousand Titles, Boss First, etc etc hasn't been on "Earth" in over nine thousand years. I wanna know MORE.

And the fucking Ninth House has their own prayer! Everyone else has one that the Ninth didn't know and then the Ninth had one that no one else knows! GIMME MORE!!!!

Also again, so many Catholicism metaphors or comparisons or whatever!

I could go on forever but gonna end this one with OH MY GOD SHE FOUND SUNGLASSES I LOVE HER. Fucking "I came prepared, my sweet." and "But then you couldn't have admired . . . these!" as she whips on the sunglasses. God. I nearly died.

[koopageneral]

INANIMATE INSANITY SEASON 2 EPISODE 15 SPOILERS. PLEAASE GO WATCH IT

Omgaaa I need to EXPLODE cuz of Taco’s Tirade. Gonna go on a rant analysing it prty much line-by-line so STRAP IN!! (Shout out to everyone who worked on this masterpiece omfg)

It starts off with what might be considered ‘normal’ Taco. Her making fun of the contestants. There is a little bit of hinting at her sympathy towards the contestants, although it’s incredibly shrouded in her mastermind facade. Calling them ‘pathetic’ and comparing them to blindly obedient dogs with ‘how they run to fetch their sticks.’

We get a little bit more with ‘Sure, call me polemic, unsympathetic.’ It shows how shes aware that she’s a problem, although at this point in the song it’s unclear to the audience whether she’s saying it in a way of ‘yeah call me it cuz it’s true, I don’t care.’ Or if it’s ‘call me these things, yeah, but I’m more than that.’

‘Look at me and all you see is the debris of some defective outcast.’ Feels like it’s getting into the meat of the song, and the episode as a whole, of how Taco has realized how she’s pushed everyone away for the sake of the game. The fact she has her arms tucked away during it gives another interesting interpretation, of it actually talking about before her big reveal, and how she was treated differently because she was, in her words, ‘defective.’

‘A frenetic, antithetic (if poetic) iconoclast.’ Frenetic means wild and energetic, probably, again, referring to her season 1 persona. Antithetic means opposite of something, and iconoclast means someone who attacks cherished institutions. This gets into her want to tear this entire show to the ground for the suffering it’s caused everyone.

‘I wont live in the past. I almost won this game once, you know.’ I’m just gonna parrot what @lemonxlimee said cuz they put it pretty succinctly with two words. Taco. Girl.

Then we get to the lines that got me started on this tirade (Pun intended.) ‘History is rearranged just to credit those who win the glory. So reality has changed in the edit when they spin the story.’ AUGH. Her fucking staring down at the hotel made of the money she spent SO HARD and lost SO MUCH to try and get. I. I want to scream about this. I don’t know how to put my thoughts on this line into fucking words.

‘And we choose to feel this pain.’ Going off the last line, Taco, out of almost anyone in the cast, knows how much you have to go through just to get a chance to win, which goes right into the next line.

‘We lose more than we gain.’ She lost Pickle. You might say that she didn’t actually care, but I’m not sure if I believe that. I feel like she might not have at first, and maybe even never when they actually were playing together. But you can’t convince me she doesn’t hate herself for using him on a plan that resulted in nothing. She also lost Mic, and it’s incredibly clear how much that affected her. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back, and showed her the flaws in this system.

‘I will break this cycle of mistakes unlike all of these snakes whom I call to condemn.’ She is fucking DETERMINED to make everyone see what they’ve sacrificed. She speaks with a level of contempt towards them, yes, but I feel like it’s more her projecting her feelings about the contest onto the contestants.

Then we’ve got MePad being best therapy boy. ‘You are incapable of starting over.’ She wants to be better. But she doesn’t feel worthy.

And then MePad’s slightly naive optimism with ‘I do not know who you lost, but is it not possible to get them back?’ He’s programmed to see the best in everyone. He wants things to work out. He doesn’t see how hard it might be to just make things better after a relationship exclusively built on lies.

This naivete is immediately contrasted by Taco’s all-encompassing pessimism. ‘Clear the slate, start again, do you hear how preposterous that sounds? How do you not comprehend that for someone with my monstrous background, the whole slate has fallen apart.’ To Taco, the bridges between her and Mic or Pickle are nothing but smoldering piles of rubble after all the pain she’s put them through.

This contrast is even more stark with the duet of ‘It’s too late’ and ‘It’s not too late.’ I don’t even know what to say about that, it’s pretty black and white.

For the duet, gonna go one character at a time for simplicity. Starting with Taco.

We see taco’s turmoiled feelings on whether she’s to blame, with ‘It’s not I, it’s they who deigned to play.’ Even after all of this internal conflict and deep personal realizations, there’s still a part of her that wants to cast the blame of the pain she’s caused onto the ones she’s hurt.

Another deflection she throws out is, honestly, probably more fair, if still not great. ‘This game, so cruel and inhumane, base and uncouth.’ This really gets into her main philosophy for the episode. She’s afraid to take responsibility, and pins the blame on the show for pitting everyone against one another. I want to make it clear, her point is incredibly valid. We see during THIS EPISODE how much it turns people against eachother. The challenge is entirely built around making the contestants spill their true feelings about each other, and using that to fuel drama. Suitcase literally has to choose between two people she cares about over who she’s bringing into the finals, pitting Baseball and Knife against eachother. While the show is ‘cruel and inhumane’, I don’t think that should just be a het out of jail free card for Taco. Yes, she did it because she felt there was no other choice to win, but she still did horrible things. She manipulated 2 people into actually believing she cared.

‘They’re too afraid to bear the bed they made, can’t bring themselves to face the awful truth.’ This is pretty much just her saying that the other contestants are too blind to see how much pain they’ve gone through to get to where they are.

NOW. Baby boy therapist, MePad.

‘You’re no menace, Taco, how did they hurt you?’ He agrees with Taco on the grounds of how much pain the contestants go through, but he’s just a little more concerned about the tact needed to show them. He knows that Taco wants to change, but she’s afraid to. He knows how much she wants to apologize to the people she’s hurt. He feels that there has to be something external she’s dealing with to have this level of spite in her, even if there isn’t, and all of her hate is towards herself.

‘Please think this through’ is pretty self explanatory. As I said, he agrees with Taco about her basic ideals, but feels like there are better ways to deal with the issue.

‘Feeling double crossed is part of dealing with the loss, yes, but the healing is a process, that’s the truth.’ He wants to see Taco get better, and he’s trying to get through to her about the fact that her feelings are entirely valid, but she has to, at some point, let go.

I also feel like the sound mixing is very purposeful. Taco’s voice rings through clearly, able to be heard without much difficulty. MePad’s vocals are softer, and a little quieter and harder to make out. Taco is so in her own head about the pain she’s gone through, she refuses to listen to any outside voice.

Then we get to Taco trying her best to cover up her emotions again and put on her mastermind persona with ‘I’m turning up the heat to sauté, I’ve some beef to get grilled. But I guarantee that today all the beans that get spilled won’t be mine.’ I love how this foreshadows the challenge, but doesn’t make it obvious.

We see one last crack in her facade in the penultimate ‘I’m fine.’ Again, the ‘mistake’ in this line feels incredibly purposeful. It’s incredibly pitchy and bad, to an almost ear-splitting level. Taco knows she isn’t actually okay at ALL, and has trouble telling such a blatant lie.

And then the last line, ‘now it’s time’, is her fully donning the mask once again, ready to expose the show for what it is.

ANYWAY. Uh. Thanks for reading all this bs. I fucking love this song so much, and I think Taco’s motivation in this episode is fascinating. Any comments or constructive criticism of my analysis is MORE than appreciated, hope you all have a wonderful day/night/whenever.

[ashleyleygraves]

If I were to make the next Zelda game, what would I change?

Bring back underwater traversal and real Water Temples.

If you were to think about any iconic Zelda item that isn't a weapon, you'd most likely think about the hook/clawshot. I like that we can climb, but I miss the claw/hookshot. Personally, I'd have the Skyward Sword climbing mechanics where you can climb a little bit but not much, but make it so that the hook/clawshot can go on any surface. Even better is a double claw/hookshot so you can swing around like Spider-Man

Linkle. That's right, from the original Hyrule Warriors spin-off game. It would be cool if we got to choose to play as Link or Linkle at the beginning of the game. Make it so that Link can't get into Gerudo Town without a disguise like in Breath of the Wild, but also make it so Linkle can't get into Goron City without a disguise, that way it's even and there's no major advantage.

If Linkle can't be an option, I'd have Link be a different race than Hylian. Tears of the Kingdom already teased us with this concept with the Ancient Hero. Before TotK, the closest we got was Ocarina of Time/Majora's Mask Link who thought he was a Kokiri but found out that he was in fact Hylian and also had ghost masks to shapeshift into other races. (Or you could also add Linkle as this race too. But I think that's a bit much)

20 hearts OR harder enemies. With BotW, Link had 30 hearts. In literally every other Zelda game he had 20. With 30 hearts, it was a decent change in normal mode, but in Master Mode, it made it essential. Enemies did more damage and evolved from their normal mode counterparts. In TotK, Link has 40 hearts and no Master Mode. The enemies do basically the same damage as in BotW's normal mode and sometimes even far less with the decayed-unfused weapons. So I would make the series go back to 20 hearts or have Master Mode as the default difficulty.

A new fast travel system. Look, shrines were a good idea. Especially for a fast travel system, but if we're getting rid of the 10-20 extra hearts how I would do it, we need something else. For this, let's turn to Skyrim for just a second. The fast travel system there is broken because every cave, tower, dungeon, etc. is a fast travel point, but let's look at the towns/cities and important landmarks: they're fast travel points once we discover them. So let's turn those things into fast travel points in this hypothetical Zelda game. Now, what about the less significant parts of the map? Well, a few train stations around the map with a train. I mean, trains are in the Zelda universe. Spirit Tracks literally is about that, so it wouldn't be a big deal. I had this idea back in 2021, and now even fucking Fortnite has a train around a map with a few train stations in random spots.

This one will make a bit more sense if you read my "If I were to make a Zelda game, what would I keep?" post. Heart Pieces/Stamina pieces. You could go the normal route with 4 pieces makes a full thing or go Twilight Princess style with 5 pieces makes a full thing. These would probably be given as quest rewards in quests that are Side Adventures rather than Main Quests or Side Quests. Side quests would give you rupees or a rare item and Main Quests will give you more story progression.

Bring back the "one-and-done" races like the Kokiri, Twili, Minish, Zonai, Lokomo, etc.

[kimvvantae]

the misadventures list; 5 (m)

➜ the night shift can be very wild at times. you’ve witnessed so many strange, concerning and absurd situations happen inside the tiny convenience store that you could make a long list with everything that got you stunned - and the situation that takes the prize of being the weirdest of your list is the night a desperate millionaire, for the sake of saving his fortune, asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend.

pairing: playboy!jimin x (f) reader

genre: smut, comedy (?), fluff • fake dating au

warnings: toxic parents. brief mentions of homofobia. alcohol consumption. explicit sexual content (semi-public sex, oral m&f receiving, throat fucking, unprotected sex, praise kink kinda, cum play, dirty talk). made-up celebrities. me trying to be funny i guess

rating: 18+

word count: 20k

A/N: i can't thank you guys enough for waiting for this update! i know it's been a while but i hope you enjoy this chapter as much as i enjoyed writing it!! as always, feedback is MUCH appreciated <3

➜  Chapters: check out masterlist in bio!

« playlist »

It’s almost 6PM.

Jimin is not happy about it.

The change in his expression as he checks the hour on his phone is subtle, but you see it as clear as day. The smile that remained on his lips and vanished from his eyes. He sighs, putting the phone inside his back pocket, and goes back to saying his goodbyes to everyone at the pier.

It makes you forget for a second that you were in the process of saving your own number on Jane’s phone.

You look down once again, fingers hesitating over the keyboard. Damn. You weren’t supposed to be making friends. Jane is the lesser problem right here - she doesn’t know anyone from Jimin’s family except Jimin himself. The problem is that many of Jungkook’s friends are Jimin’s, too, and they asked for your number or your Instagram. Which, sure, isn’t that big of a deal and isn’t something unpredictable either, but hey, your purpose here is to pretend for just three days. You’re supposed to vanish from Jimin’s life right after it’s over. “Vanishing” doesn’t include making friends with his friends.

“What? You forgot your number?” Jane asks, eyeing you. She’s so drunk that it’s obvious that she’s not seeing you really. 

“Yeah, I’m… a little dizzy.” You chuckle awkwardly. That’s a lie, though - you’re not drunk in the slightest. As soon as you noticed that alcohol was making you act weird, you stopped with the cocktails and drank as much water as possible to dissipate it from your system (so much pee). Going to the Park’s private concert drunk is out of question.

Giving in, you type your real number on her phone and hand it back to her. Jane smiles.

“I’m so glad that we met, Y/N! You’re such a great person! For real, like, you have a nice vibe!” Jane says excitedly. Yeah, definitely drunk. “We should meet again before the trip is over!”

It won’t be possible, of course. You’re not free to do whatever you want. But you nod anyway, hoping she won’t remember anything later. “Sure, let’s go out!”

Your little chat is interrupted by Jungkook calling everyone for a group photo. As soon as everyone starts gathering in a spot, you feel Jimin’s hand resting on your waist, pulling you closer to his body. His grip is warm and gentle and heat spreads from the spot he touches. His hair is kind of a mess right now, yet he still manages to look cute. Jimin doesn’t say anything, just sends you a small smile before posing for the camera.

A few clicks later, he leans over to say quietly in your ear: “We really have to go now.”

You nod. Both of you still have to get ready for the concert in a few hours. As Jimin explained, up until now, only his parents’ closest friends arrived; tonight, though, is when the real people will arrive. Not causing a good impression on them is not an option.

You start to make your way out of there, in the midst of saying goodbye to the people you walk past (consciously ignoring the vultures that were around Jimin, though. You ain’t acting nice to them at all). As you both walk past Jungkook, Jimin puts his hand over the younger’s shoulder and sends him a warning gaze. 

“You better sober up,” he says. Jungkook only opens a carefree smirk in response.

“C’mon, I’m not even that drunk yet. Don’t worry.” You’re not so sure about that, though; there’s something kind of psychotic about his silly smile. “See you guys later!”

Instead of arguing, Jimin just sighs.

And finally, you’re walking away from the pier.

It’s quieter now, which honestly is such a relief. The temperature started to cool down a bit. The sun has already disappeared behind the horizon line, yet the sky is still clear, painted in beautiful shades of orange, yellow and pink. You just walk in silence, hands behind your back, feeling a little funny. Since you stayed a long time in the water, it feels as if your body is still floating. It’s been a while since you felt this way.

“Jimin, I wanted to ask you a question…” you say quietly after a while.

After not getting a response, you frown and look around. Jimin isn’t beside you.

He’s a few steps behind, holding his phone to eye level.

“What are you doing?”

Jimin smiles. “Registering the moment.”

You quirk one eyebrow up and walk back to where he stands, a little bit confused. Jimin lets you see his phone for a second.

Your jaw drops.

You stand at the very center of the photo he took, your back turned to him, hair swaying with the wind. The beautiful sight of the evening sky serves as an astonishing background, the last beams of sunlight framing your figure beautifully. It’s breathtaking. He made such a trivial moment become something incredible with a single shot.

“What the hell?!” You exclaim, astonished, making Jimin chuckle. “You’ll send me this, right? This has to go on my Instagram feed!”

“Nope.” He says in a cocky manner, sticking his phone to his chest so you can't see it anymore. “I’m gatekeeping this one.”

“Aw, come on! That’s not fair!” You cross your arms and frown at him. "What are you going to do with this photo anyway?"

"It's my lockscreen already." His eyebrows shoot up in a playful expression. "What makes me remember, you should change yours, too. Why didn't we change it before? Such an amateur mistake!" He swiftly takes your phone from your hand and opens the front camera.

"What are you doing-?"

You gasp softly when Jimin pulls you by the waist, sticking your body to his. "Smile, pretty!"

His act was so sudden that you, indeed, end up cracking a genuine smile - at the same moment his lips touch your cheek tenderly. 

Click.

Jimin steps away and smiles proudly at the photo. "We look like a real couple here. Come on, set it as your lockscreen."

You take the phone back from his hand, feeling a little dizzy.

Oh well.

You literally made out with him in front of everyone just a few hours ago, in the middle of the ocean. Why does the chaste kiss he planted on your cheek still makes your face burn? Is it because now you're alone, not having to pretend to be a couple anymore, that his act felt much more intimate? But… there was no one else around during your first kiss at the beach, either.

It's because you're head over heels for him already.

You shake your head frantically as if to yank these thoughts away from your head. No no no. I'm not falling that easily. I'm a cold hearted bitch. I'm just flattered because he's cute and hot and rich, but it'll go away. Right?

"Yeah, right." You mumble.

"What?" Jimin quirks one eyebrow up.

"What?" You freeze, realizing that you voiced your thoughts out loud. "I-I mean- I want to ask you something."

"Oh." He puts his hands behind his back and starts walking again. You follow him shortly. "What is it?"

You munch the inside of your cheek nervously. "You can not tell me if you don't want to. But… what happened earlier today? That family meeting, I mean. Is there anything I need to know?"

The carefree glint in his eyes immediately disappears. Jimin looks down at his feet. "Oh."

An uncomfortable silence settles between you, only the sounds of the ocean and voices from the other people at the pier lingering. It makes you regret making that question as soon as the words leave your mouth. "You really don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." You say hesitantly after a few seconds. 

"No, it's alright." Jimin reassures, but he's still staring at his feet. He sighs and shakes his head. It's so painful to see him sulking this way whenever his family is mentioned… "Basically, they called me to say that Eunbi's parents are pissed about us."

Your eyes widen in surprise. "Really?" You came prepared to be hated by Jimin's parents, but Eunbi's as well? Shit. As if one billionaire middle aged couple of enemies wasn't enough.

"Really." Jimin nods. You have finally reached the stairs that lead to the street level. This pier is within the resort's property, actually, so you're not that far from the bungalows, and the main building is just a few streets ahead. "They came thinking that the engagement was already settled. Without asking for our opinions, you know. They think that bringing you here is disrespectful to their daughter."

"Oh." You knit your eyebrows. "So… they don't care if you're in an actual relationship. They'd want you to break up so you can get married to someone you barely know… even if you weren't aware of the engagement?"

"Yep. That's exactly how they think." He sighs heavily. 

You go up the stairs in silence. Your brain is working furiously. "This won't put you into real trouble, right?"

Jimin chuckles. "Y/N, the whole point of bringing you here was to put me in trouble. I want to stress them. Just don't worry too much, okay? Worrying will give you wrinkles, and you have to look wonderful tonight."

You're finally standing on the sidewalk, where one of the Park family butlers already waits to take you both back to the bungalow (he's wearing a short sleeved dress shirt, at least. Poor butlers, having to wear suits in the summer!). Your stomach twirls in nervousness. Spending the afternoon so freely made you forget for a bit your actual purpose here.

"You go without me, pretty. I'll get ready at Jungkook's place." 

You turn to him, frowning in a confused expression. "What? Why?"

The happy gleam in his eyes comes back slowly as he steps closer. "I already explained that today is a little more serious, right? More guests arrived, we have to impress people… so I hired a team to take care of you. Hairstylist, makeup artist and stuff. They're already waiting for you."

"Oh." You feel your face burning for some reason. It should be expected of him to do something like that - even obvious, since all the socialites attending are probably getting the same treatment - but still, you can't help but feel a little flustered. "Okay." You change the weight of your body from one leg to another nervously. "So… see you later, I guess?"

Jesus Christ.

He's doing it again.

Standing directly in front of you with his hands behind his back, a mysterious lip tightened smile and mischief in his eyes, watching your every movement with amusement. If your face was hot a few seconds ago, now your entire body is feverish. Will you ever get used to this? The things Jimin makes you feel without even touching you are kind of amazing. Imagine when he actually touch you the way you want the most-

Hey, pervert. Stop.

"I think I've said this a hundred times already… but it's kinda rude to just stand and stare at people." You say, eyebrows knitted - but you can't manage to sound annoyed at all.

Jimin smirks.

"I want to kiss you."

You're so taken aback that your eyes widen.

"Huh?"

"Don't huh at me." He steps even closer - so close that you feel the heat emanating from his body. He rests his hand in the junction of your jaw and your neck, spreading even more heat from that spot. You don't push him away. All this heat is going to make you melt like a popsicle. "Don't try to look innocent right now. You shoved your tongue in my throat not long ago, missy." 

You giggle, avoiding his gaze for a moment. "I already said… I was just method acting."

"Hmm." Jimin nods slowly, biting his bottom lip. The sight makes you weak on the knees. "Sure. So, me kissing you right now means I'm method acting because one of the butlers is watching and we can't look suspicious around them, okay? Because they're my parents' eyes and ears, okay? Not because I want to kiss you." His voice gets lower as he leans in, a faked innocent expression that has you smiling and melting at the same time. "Just to make it clear so there's no misunderstanding. Okay?"

"Okay." You nod.

"Good. I'd hate if you got it all wrong."

Your giggle is muffled by his lips on yours.

Your hands instinctively rest on each side of his waist, while he cups your face with both hands. Oh God… his plump lips are addicting. This kiss is slower and somehow more peaceful than the one you shared in the sea, but it makes your heart race and your senses go crazy nevertheless. Your lips move slowly, in sync with his. You can feel him smiling within the kiss, which causes your knees to feel even weaker. 

He breaks the kiss not too long after, aware that you're standing in the middle of the sidewalk, but not taking his hands off of you. Yet again, he bites his bottom lip, analyzing your features carefully. "Hari will be there. You'll have a lot of territory to mark. Be ready."

You throw your head back, laughing. "Sure. You really are enjoying this way too much, huh?"

"I am. Why wouldn't I?" He confesses cheekily, shrugging. He pecks your lips one last time, lingering for a little longer, before finally letting you go. "See you later, pretty."

"See you."

You hope that Jimin doesn't notice that your legs kind of forgot how to walk as you distance yourself from him towards the butler. Because yes, you feel like a poor popsicle melting under the scorching Hawaiian sun. The sun has Jimin's face, which makes you remember the Teletubbies for some reason, earning a quiet giggle from you. The butler eyes you as if you're crazy.

Maybe you are getting crazy.

But to be honest - this insanity is sweeter than any popsicle you could ever taste.

As a kid, you always fantasized about being Mia from The Princess Diaries. Call it escapism if you want - fantasizing about a perfect life while yours was awful - but it was a dream of yours. Imagine: finding out your grandmother is a queen? Going from a regular loser to a crown princess? Who wouldn't want that? 

You haven't thought of that movie in years. Now, as you stand in front of the mirror, it suddenly pops up in your head. Yes, Mia's iconic "transformation" scene.

Except you didn't think you were ugly before, which means right now, you're feeling like a literal goddess.

Maybe that's why God didn't make me rich, you think. Maybe he knew if I looked like this on a daily basis, I would be the most unbearable human being in this world.

"Did you like it?" The hairstylist, Christine, asks, eyeing you expectantly. 

If I liked it?! I look like the hottest bitch you'll ever see in your life! 

But instead of letting everyone see your God complex, you just nod and smile politely. "I loved it!"

Your eyes focus on the mirror again.

Jimin suggested you'd both wear black tonight as an evil joke. Traditionally, the dinner followed by the private concert is a more "informal" event, so everyone should dress accordingly with colorful outfits (you're in Hawaii, after all). Let's wear black. It represents me grieving my freedom, he said jokingly at the mall. You chuckled and thought he was being dramatic back then, but after everything you've witnessed for the past 48 hours, you realize that Jimin wasn't really joking when he said that.

The Yves Saint Lauren dress you two picked is quite simple: a short, strapless and sleeveless dress with a straight neckline. It's perfectly balanced between sexy and elegant: it enhances your curves the right amount, not enough to be considered vulgar by the aunties. Although it's strapless, it doesn't squeeze your boobies up so the uncles won't get "distracted" (ew). It's so simple but fits your body so well that you can't help but stare at your own reflection in awe. Simple black Givenchy sandals complete the outfit. 

Being a (poor) fashion enthusiast, this whole experience is like heaven to you. One thing is to see new collections and judge new trends; another completely different thing is to get to wear a piece from a high fashion house. It's not only about prices and status. This dress is so well cut and woven that it seems to be alive, as if it knows where to be tight and where to be loose. 

Doing your own makeup and hair was never a problem and you could do a pretty good job by yourself, but professionals doing it is on another level. Christine styled your hair back, carefully parting it and tucking it behind your ears, so your face is highlighted. Marco (the makeup artist) made your skin look impeccable, as smooth as baby butt cheeks (it's crazy how makeup can lie, huh?); the winged eyeliner, albeit simple, enhances the natural shape of your eyes. The lashes are subtle and make your eyes appear bigger. He completed the look by placing tiny little glitter dots under the waterline, one for each eye, so they kinda look like shiny tears (you suggested it, by the way, being carried away by the whole "grieving" concept. Talk about drama). He chose a lipstick color close to the natural color of your lips, making them appear shiny, plump and healthy.

And finally - the jewelry.

Mr. Zhou arrived at the bungalow a few minutes ago, carrying a leather, medium sized suitcase. You greet each other politely. Jimin texted saying that he would bring the jewelry you'd wear tonight - and you were anxious all along, because while you planned the outfits, he had already said you'd wear jewelry, but he didn't tell which jewelry; didn't show a single photo of what you'd wear, simply asked you to trust him. Although you learned to trust his fashion sense pretty fast, you don't like surprises at all. What if it's something extravagant that would ruin the look?

"Mr. Jimin picked those pieces from the Park jewelry collection himself," Mr. Zhou explains as he puts white gloves on (oh shit - this is so expensive that he has to wear gloves to touch it?!). "He said they would suit you fine - and I agree."

The chief butler opens the suitcase and takes the biggest black velvet case from inside, opening it.

It takes all of your self control not to gasp.

It's a gorgeous diamond necklace (yes, diamonds, fucking real diamonds!); it looks like a thick chain, actually, and at the center of it, sits a bigger emerald (yes, an emerald, a fucking real emerald!). Inside the box there are also subtle emerald earrings framed by tiny diamonds; since the necklace is already too much, the earrings have to be subtle to accompany them.

“I present you The Serpent’s Eye.” Mr. Zhou explains eloquently. “Tiffany & Co., designed by Paloma Picasso and acquired by the Park family in 2006.” He takes the necklace from the velvet case carefully. "If you'll allow me…" 

"Of course." You say, turning around and facing the mirror again - but you do so hesitantly, because being the fashion enthusiast you are, you recognize the name Paloma Picasso, and the fact that you’re about to have one of her original designs around your neck scares you. You’ve been very well aware that every piece of clothing you wear is worth thousands, but these pieces must be worth much more than everything else combined.

Mr. Zhou stands behind you and places the necklace around your neck, the cool touch of metal and diamonds making you shiver. The necklace sits just above your collarbones. The name of the design is understandable - it indeed resembles a small snake tangled around your neck. He also helps you put the small earrings on.

Finally, Mr. Zhou steps aside. 

"You look astonishing, Miss. Y/N," he says, and honestly, he sounds like he means it.

Yeah, I do, it’s what you want to say - but instead, you say “Thank you.”

It’s exactly what Jimin intended: elegance. If you’re too extravagant, his parents would hate it, and it’d make you look cheap no matter how expensive your clothes actually are. If it’s too simple, it’d look like you have no fashion sense. This look is the perfect balance. Your natural beauty is the focus, everything else just meant to highlight you. 

You look like a celebrity.

You look like them. Like someone’s rich daughter. And yes, it’s conflicting, because you never wanted to look like them - but you can’t deny that you like what you see in the mirror. 

You understand Jimin better now. Of course - he's an old money child, he doesn't know any lifestyle other than this. You're just having a little taste of what this life is. Yet, you can understand why he's so desperate to not lose his portion of the Park family fortune. Who wouldn't want to live such a lavish life? Who wouldn't want to look their absolute best at any opportunity, to wear clothes worth thousands just because they can?

Mr. Zhou looks at the watch on his wrist. “Now that you’re ready, I should take you to the event hall as soon as possible.” 

“Am I late?” You ask in a worried tone.

“Fashionably late. I’m sure everyone will understand. It takes time to look your best.” Mr. Zhou reassures. Why is he being so nice today? “I will wait for you outside, Miss Y/N.”

You nod. As Christine and Marco pack their things, you don’t forget to thank them over and over again for their wonderful job. They seem like pretty nice people, actually, and you'd like to get to know them better, but you have no time to. Two other butlers will assist their exit. You take the small black clutch that literally can only fit your phone and a small lipgloss before walking out of the bungalow where Mr. Zhou already waits.

No golf car today. Instead, that same Mercedes Maybach from yesterday is parked outside. Mr. Zhou politely opens the door for you and helps you get inside the car before taking his place on the driver's seat.

Another wave of nervousness hits your stomach as he turns the car on and finally starts making his way towards the hall - a separate building within the hotel's property, sitting in front of the ocean, not far from the pier. The ride will take probably 5 minutes. You exhale heavily, checking yourself again with the front camera, before tapping Jimin's contact.

you: i'm coming

He replies almost instantly:

jimin: waiting for you outside

Oh. You didn't think he'd already be there. You put the phone inside the clutch again and look out the window, chewing the inside of your cheek.

"Are you nervous, Miss Y/N?" Mr. Zhou asks out of sudden, snapping you back to reality. He keeps the formal tone; his voice is soothing.

"A little bit, I'll admit." You say with a lip tightened smile.

"Tonight, you'll be meeting Jimin's parents' close friends and allies from other companies." He continues. He always speaks as if he's picking his words carefully. "It's quite important to them. It's not just a celebratory event, you see… they reassure their place within society and business today."

You frown slightly. 

Mr. Zhou never talked this much. Although he keeps that formal persona, you see that he's trying to tell you something very specific, just avoiding the direct words to do so.

And yes, you get the message.

"You don’t need to worry, Mr. Zhou.” You say, crossing your arms, your expression hardening like stone in seconds. “I won’t embarrass the Park family in front of their friends.”

You see the butler nodding. “You’re smart.” He remarks. “Intelligence is important if you want to be accepted in the family.”

I would never in a million years want to be part of this family, you think. Instead, you just gulp and grip your arms, trying to ease the growing anger.

Finally, he parks in front of the events building. Yet, instead of immediately going out - and stopping you from opening the door yourself, since you’re already annoyed, Mr. Zhou turns around on his seat to look at you directly.

His expression is serious.

“I don’t want you to take my words badly, Miss Y/N.” He says in a quiet, yet stern voice. “I have been watching over this family even before Jimin was born. I know each of them very well, and I know how dysfunctional they are. When I say you have to be smart around them and watch yourself very carefully, I don’t say it to belittle you; I say it because I know what they would be capable of doing if you offend them somehow.”

“Are you trying to scare me?” You lean forward a bit, getting defensive. “Did they tell you to threaten me?”

“No.” His voice and expression don’t change despite your obvious outrage. “I am warning you because I see that you’re not quite aware of the type of people you’re dealing with. And because you seem like a respectable young lady.” Mr. Zhou’s eyes soften a bit. “I see that Jimin likes you a lot. I’m not quite sure of what your relationship with him really is, and I’d be happy if it’s genuine, because he really needs it in his life. But I know Jimin very well…” Mr. Zhou tilts his head to the side, frowning a bit. “...and I’d hate it if you're somehow harmed because of his immaturity.”

He sends a last significant gaze before finally opening the door.

You just have these short seconds to recover your breath before he opens the door for you. Shit. What he said actually gets you. Call it naivety or whatnot - but you didn’t stop to consider that Jimin’s parents are actually powerful people that could mess up your life if you annoy them enough. But… Jimin wouldn’t have asked for your help if he knew his parents would try anything serious against you, right?

Mr. Zhou knows Jimin better than you do and he just called him immature.

Oh shit.

The butler opens the door and offers his hand for you to walk out of the car. Now, you’re not just nervous - you’re worried. 

Thankfully, the temperature dropped - it's still considerably hot, but much more comfortable than hours ago. You stand up, inhaling the fresh nightly air, and look at the gigantic building in front of you. Important events happen here quite frequently. Large marble stairs lead to the entrance of the hall. There is a gathering of women and men dressed elegantly slowly making their ways inside, greeting each other politely as they walk in, as well as many security guards. You stand on the sidewalk and nervously look around, searching for Jimin.

You spot him before he spots you.

He's standing at the corner, kind of hidden, close to the first steps, absently checking his phone. You already knew what he would be wearing tonight, but to see him in the outfit makes your brain malfunction. 

Obviously, Jimin wears all black: a silk turtleneck under a black glitter Louis Vuitton blazer that fits him marvelously. The turtleneck is tucked into the dress pants. On his feet, leather black boots. His hair is pushed back, a single strand falling on his forehead, and he uses a pair of shades to complete the look. Instead of the usual dangly earrings, he wears small hoops tonight that match the outfit very well. Once again, you're left astonished at how this man is doing basically nothing - just standing there with one of his hands tucked inside the front pocket of his pants, checking his phone with a blank expression - but Gosh, he's gorgeous. His posture is perfect: he has the elegance of a swan, the grandeur of an eagle, and the confident gaze of a tiger about to slash you to pieces. In fact, he looks so good that you even forget the short talk you had with Mr. Zhou a minute ago.

It takes him around three seconds to lift his gaze from the phone and spot you.

It's funny, because you see the exact moment he freezes.

The shades slide down the bridge of his nose. He looks at you with slightly widened eyes and parted lips. It's like he's in shock.

Then, a smile breaks its way and lightens his face.

Jimin shoves the phone inside the pocket of his pants and rushes to you in a second. Nervousness bubbles within your stomach at every step he takes. It doesn’t help that he walks with the stance of a model - he’s definitely doing this on purpose. Handsome men that know they are handsome are the most dangerous type. Jimin is not only very well aware of his appearance, he uses it to his advantage all the time. 

And when he stops in front of you, checking you out from head to toe - it’s like you can’t even breathe.

It’s a different feeling from yesterday. There’s no playfulness in his eyes at all. Only that same electricity hanging in the air you felt earlier today at the yacht - when you sat on his lap, when you kissed. This electricity is getting more and more intense, it’s like you’ll start seeing sparks around you at any moment. Fuck, he didn’t even touch you yet. You don’t know how much longer you can resist…

Honestly, you’re not sure if you want to keep resisting at this point.

Jimin takes your hand and makes you twirl around, earning a soft giggle from you. He bites his bottom lip, that mischievous smirk making you feel weak on the knees.

“Just so you know,” he says in a low voice, putting his hand on your waist, “If I make a fool of myself in front of everyone, I’m blaming you. Because I won’t be paying attention to anything else tonight.”

You giggle again, tentatively touching the lapel of his blazer. It’s beautifully embroidered with circular patterns; you can only see them if you stand close enough, though. Your sight lingers on his lips (for long seconds; they’re so plump and glossy and delicious) before you look into his eyes again. “I could say the same thing, Mr. Park.”

Jimin’s smirk widens and he tilts his head to the side. “I knew The Serpent’s Eye would suit you.” He touches the necklace with his fingertips. The action makes you gulp - this necklace seems to weigh tons and you’ve been painfully aware of it all the time, your anxious brain already making up scenarios of you losing the millionaire design and Jimin’s parents making you pay with your life. 

“Why did you choose it, by the way?” You quirk one eyebrow up in a teasing expression. “Are you calling me a snake? Should I be offended?”

Jimin chuckles. “Of course not. Serpents are astute and smart animals… just like you.” Sir, the actual smooth person here is you, not me. “Not everyone can pull off such an aggressive design. I knew none of my mother’s friends would dare to choose it.”

Jimin hooks your arm around his and slowly starts to guide you towards the stairs. “So your mom lets her friends borrow her jewelry?” You ask. 

“From the family collection, yes.” Jimin nods in a gracious movement. “The most expensive pieces, only to the closest and most important guests. It’s a sign of trust and respect.”

“But your mother surely doesn’t respect me.” You say between gritted teeth, aware of the people around you. 

“Don’t worry, she won’t say a word about it. It’d be weird if the guests noticed that her daughter-in-law isn’t wearing one of the pieces. Like I told you… this event is about appearances. She’d rather die than let people think her family isn’t perfect.”

Daughter-in-law. This makes you shiver. You've been her fake in law for barely 48 hours and it already feels like hell. Imagine being her real in law… Jieun must’ve done some awful things in her past life to deserve this, honestly.

You’re forced to pay attention to your real surroundings before you can overthink more, though, when you realize you’re the center of attention.

This is probably the closest you’ll ever feel to being a celebrity. It’s not unusual to be the center of attention when it’s your birthday, for example. But this… this feels different. You don’t know most of these people, just some familiar faces from earlier today - yet, it seems that they already know you, they measure you up and down, they smile and greet you before you can. Sure… your arm is hooked with one of this event’s hosts, the Park’s youngest son. Yet, you see that people are also actually seeing you. You’re not just Jimin’s accessory.

Is this good? You’re not sure. This means they’ve heard from you somehow. In the span of less than 48 hours, these unknown people have been talking about you.

They approach you with curious smiles; they greet you and Jimin, make some shallow - almost diplomatic - comment about the weather or how long they haven’t seen Jimin or about the outfits or I’ve heard a lot about you, Y/N! (how the hell did they hear a lot about you in such a short time, though?) or you make a gorgeous couple! (you know they’re not lying about this bit; you do look gorgeous). They do not look at you disapprovingly, so you can confirm that the outfit choice was indeed appropriate for the event, albeit dramatic.

“You’re great at this, did you know that?” Jimin compliments after yet another middle aged couple walks away, leaning a bit closer to your ear so only you can hear. “You even remember their names.”

“I have a good memory,” you say between a gritted-teeth smile. “Also, working on customer service teaches you a few things.”

“Really? You weren’t this charming when we met at that convenience store.” He says in a teasing way, cocking an eyebrow up.

“First of all, I met you sitting on the floor behind a fridge. You looked like a freak.” He lets a giggle at that. “Second, I’ve moonlighted as a waitress many times. And event hostess. Never any event of this level, of course.” 

The last sentence was spoken in a quieter tone. Once again, you’re a bit scared of how Jimin - and everyone else - don’t seem to be bothered by the absolutely luxurious environment around. The immense hall is decorated in similar white and cream tones from the dinner yesterday (there’s a reason for that; Jimin’s parents are celebrating their 30th anniversary, the Pearl anniversary, apparently). Even waiters and waitresses, walking around with silver platters in hands and pretty smiles on their faces, wear cream uniforms. There are literal cascades of white lilies and roses so beautifully entangled that you’re intrigued at how they managed to arrange that. The round dinner tables are also decorated with white flowers at the center. There is a massive ice sculpture of an open oyster with a pearl in it at the entrance of the hall; the presence of pearls and oysters is almost everywhere in the decoration. The hostesses and waitresses even have small oyster shaped pins on their hair. At the very front, there is a stage; it’s barely lit yet, but you can see musicians discreetly preparing their instruments for the concert later. Professional photographers walk around the hall, recording and taking pictures of anything remarkable.

It’s jaw-dropping.

You feel weird inside.

It doesn’t matter that you look like them; you don’t feel like them. You don’t belong in this place, and it feels that everyone will notice it too if you do the slightest thing wrong. It’s clear in the way you’re astonished (outraged) at how someone can spend so much money on flowers (do you even know how much a single bouquet costs? Can you imagine thousands of flowers?!) while these people walk around with hundreds of thousands of dollars hanging from their ears or around their necks, and to them it’s just another weekend.

Oh boy. Mr. Zhou was kinda right. You will have to be very careful not to embarrass Jimin or his family in front of these people.

You walk around with your arm hooked around Jimin’s for a while, making silly small talk with the guests. Jimin quietly whispers who they are and their importance as they approach. It’s always some over the top shit like Biggest LG Shareholder or Co-Founder of This Very Famous Car Brand or CEO of This Very Rich Food Company and it makes your stomach drop every time. It seems that half of the country’s GDP is hanging around in this hall. A bunch of old guys with their (1) same age, but full of obvious cosmetic procedure wives or (2) much younger wives that of course married them out of true love.

Jimin complimented you earlier, but it’s him who deserves the most compliments. He’s really good at this. It’s so easy for him to engage in a superficial but polite conversation. Hello! I acknowledge your presence here! I am thankful that you came but I do not care enough to talk more than two minutes with you! Yes the weather is nice! See you later! All that with the prettiest smile and most genuine fake laughter you’ve ever seen (sounds contradictory but that’s exactly that). And they all fall for that. He’s so unbearably charming.

Which makes you wonder.

Jimin said that the whole purpose of bringing you to Hawaii was to upset his parents. But… he’s not really acting like someone willing to do that. Of course - maybe he knows that if he goes too far, his parents might really cut him off of their sweet sweet money fountain. Yet, it doesn’t match with what he stated earlier. Does he really want to piss his parents off? Or does he want to play the good boy so his parents leave him alone with this engagement thing? Those are opposites, he can’t want both.

Does he even know what he wants?

You’re unsure.

Shit, maybe I shouldn’t have accepted this insanity, the little anxious voice in your head says. Maybe he really is too immature and is about to fuck me up. 

Jimin gives a little pat on the hand that holds his arm and smiles. 

“We’re doing really well, pretty. I’m relieved that you’re here.” He says quietly. “This kind of event always stresses me out, but you’re making this easier.”

Don’t go around saying cute shit like that while I doubt you!

You avoid his gaze and sip a little bit more of the champagne you picked earlier from a waiter. “It doesn’t look like you’re stressed at all.” He shrugs.

“I’m method acting, too. Kinda used to it at this point.”

And there it is. That quiet sadness in his eyes.

Goddamnit.

All the questions in your head crumble to the ground, and you immediately want to comfort him like a baby.

That’s not a baby. It’s a grown ass man. Get yourself together. 

The voice in your head is angrier now - and she’s kinda right, to be honest.

Jimin sighs and pats your hand again. 

“Okay, we’ve wandered around enough. Food will be served soon… so we have to get seated.” He doesn’t even try to pretend he doesn’t despise the idea of having to sit with his family for another torturously long dinner. 

“Okay.” You nod, placing the now empty champagne glass on another waiter’s platter. You inhale, trying to gather more confidence. “Let’s go.”

So, you start walking towards the table at the front of the stage - the most important one where everyone can see from all directions. 

They’re already there, surrounded by their closest friends.

At every step, you try to gather more and more anger within yourself - this anger will fuel your confidence and muffle the nervousness (in theory). Fuck this middle aged billionaire couple. Fuck their matching cream outfits - Mr. Park Hyunjun wears a very traditional (read: boring) cream suit, while Mrs. Park Eunji wears a long, flowy dress with blue details in it and beautifully embroidered with silver patterns that seem to remember a soft breeze. A beautiful pearl necklace adorns her neck and modest cleavage. Their outfits are very “age appropriate” and posh, indeed, and they are an attractive couple, but everything about them is so painfully traditional.

Also fuck the way they look at you two with disapproval.

Another nauseatingly fake scene unfolds in front of your eyes - Mrs. Eunji giggles and side hugs Jimin, gushing over how handsome he looks (she can’t hide the obvious distaste for his black outfit, though). 

“What an… interesting choice,” she says, touching the embroidery on his blazer with her fingertips. “Rather dramatic, I’d say.”

Jimin smiles. “Everyone looks good in black, you know. Also, I didn’t want to stand out.” 

Bullshit. No one else is wearing black because it goes against the dress code. The way he said it so innocently would make any unsuspecting ears believe him, but his mom is certainly not one of those - neither are you. 

“Of course, black can make anyone look presentable at least. Y/N is live proof, isn’t she?”

She eyes you from head to toe and smiles sweetly.

Holy fucking shit. I hate her. I hate her. I hate her.

Her tone. The way she looks at you. Her awful Tom Ford perfume that makes you want to vomit as she approaches and - gasp - side hugs you too, like a good and loving mother-in-law. You smile and give her some soft pats on her back, but God, you can’t act as well as her at all - although you force yourself to do your best, well aware that all eyes and ears are focused on the Park family.

“You look astonishing tonight, Mrs. Park,” you say between gritted teeth. “This color really suits you.” Cream is boring. Like old paper. You almost smell like mold, too, rattlesnake.

“I’m glad you think so.” She’s not glad you think so. “See, me and Elie spent a long time choosing the color palette for this dress… he did such a wonderful job in the end.” She widens her eyes slightly. “Oh! My apologies, you can’t possibly know who I’m talking about…”

“Elie Saab.” You promptly say. Of course Elie Saab himself designed a dress for her. “Yes, I know his work.”

“Really?” She raises one eyebrow and this small movement spreads anger through your system. So much disdain, and she just said a word. “I didn’t think you’d know such a highly regarded fashion house, since you seem so… humble.” She has the audacity to eye you up and down with disgust again. “A wonderful trait to have, you see! Our Jimin definitely needs someone in his life to teach him some humility.”

In all honesty, you don’t even know how to respond to this.

Your wanted reaction is to reach for the nearest fork and stab her face with it. Which is, unfortunately, socially inappropriate. You also think of calling her by the ugliest names in existence, which, unfortunately is also socially inappropriate (won’t take you to jail, at least).

But all you can do is keep that smile plastered on your face and anger in your eyes.

This level of contempt is not unusual. 

Alpha High taught you to get used to it. The giggles, side glances, or straight up offenses spoken out loud so everyone could laugh at your expense, too. It taught you to accept it silently, because you knew no one would stand up for you; you didn’t have enough money or a heavy surname to back you up. You weren’t important enough. Who cared if you had an excellent academic performance? It wasn’t as cool as having a summer manor in Greece anyway.

You hate that no clever response comes to your mind. You hate that you can just stand there and awkwardly look at her - this woman that made you feel cheap even though you have diamonds sitting around your neck. You hate that, deep down, you’re feeling as cornered as you were as a defenseless fifteen year old standing on the school hallway.

Not a fun feeling at all.

And things just start getting progressively worse.

Before even Jimin gets time to say something, another couple approaches - and your blood freezes. You’ve seen them yesterday at the reception dinner and earlier today, now feeling a little stupid that you didn’t make the simple connection. They’re followed shortly by another person, a much familiar and hated face. 

Eunbi’s parents, apparently; Mr. and Mrs. Jeong.

Now that you look at the three of them, the silly part of your brain wonders who Eunbi inherited her beauty from, because they don’t share much of it with her, let’s say. They’re impeccably well dressed, of course, but their daughter’s beauty steals all the attention. She wears a rosé pink minidress (is it MiuMiu?) with a straight neckline and thin straps. On her ears, diamond earrings that seem to resemble raindrops; around her neck, a diamond choker necklace. Everything combed with the subtle makeup gives her a young, cute look.

You measure each other up and down like two rival lions about to fight. Complete opposites, black and pink. 

The tension is so extreme that it’s almost visible - like some kind of fog.

Jimin is the one to break the ice, stepping closer to greet the couple, and you do the same, glad that you don’t have to look at Mrs. Rattlesnake even for five seconds - though this other lady also hates you, apparently. It’s kind of amazing how Jimin can act like the heavy tension isn’t there at all.

The seven of you stand there smiling for long and silent five seconds. It looks like a smiling contest. You can’t tell who’s angrier.

“So… Y/N, right?” Mrs. Jeong says. She looks like an eggplant, some part of your brain remarks silently, almost making you (very inappropriately) giggle. “It’s such a surprise that you and our Eunbi were classmates. We would’ve never guessed.”

If that’s even possible - your anger levels increase. It might’ve sounded like a pretty normal thing to say, but her tone and the way she measured you up and down makes it clear that what she really meant was we would’ve never guessed that a nobody like you also studied in Alpha High.

“We were surprised, too.” Eunbi says before you can, smiling sweetly. “We haven’t seen each other in years.”

“This is a great excuse for you to come with us to a day at the Spa tomorrow, isn’t it, Mrs. Park?” Eunbi’s mom says, eyeing the other woman knowingly.

“Of course! Y/N and Eunbi must have a lot to catch up after all these years, right? Y/N, you have to come with us tomorrow.” Rattlesnake hisses- (oops) says.

You look at the two other women with uneasiness.

First of all, this doesn’t sound like an invite, but a summon. You simply know you can’t say no. Second of all - these three despise you, they wouldn’t want you there if they didn’t have second intentions. What do they actually want?

You want to say no thanks, but it feels like you’re handcuffed in this situation.

“Sure. It sounds refreshing,” you finally agree with a painful smile. It didn’t even happen yet, but you know tomorrow is already ruined. Don’t let these bastards get to your head, your inner voice advises; don’t show weakness. You can deal with them.

Yeah, right.

You notice that, surprisingly, Eunbi looks very uncomfortable with the whole idea; she avoids her mother’s gaze and looks down, smile faltering a bit. She doesn’t want to be around you as much as you don’t want to be around her, apparently. At least you can agree on something.

Your thoughts are interrupted by Mr. Park stepping closer once again, placing his hand on his wife’s back. “Dear, dinner’s ready and about to be served. We should take our places.” 

“Of course. I’m sure all of us are hungry enough.” She turns around to the other guests to announce it loudly, and somehow all the nearly one hundred people manage to hear it, walking to their respective seats.

Respective seats.

The seats are all charted - something you only saw in movies before, but you should’ve expected it at this point. Coming closer to the round table, you notice that over every beautiful white and blue porcelain plate, there is an elegant tag name in golden lettering on top of it. Mr. and Mrs. Park; Hyungsik and his wife sit by Mr. Park’s seat, while Jimin’s place is by his mother…

And by Jimin’s seat…

You freeze. Jimin freezes, too.

Jeong Eunbi’s name tag.

Feeling your stomach drop, you look around, searching for your own name tag - but there’s none to be seen, and it’s getting increasingly embarrassing as everyone else sits down while you and Jimin remain standing.

Your throat gets dry.

“She’d rather die than let people think her family isn’t perfect,” Jimin said as you walked inside the hall. This made you think she wouldn’t want to embarrass you.

Oh, Jimin. How wrong you were.

“Hm, there must be a mistake.” Jimin speaks up. The smile is still there, but his eyes hardened and his breath gets deeper as the visible anger fills him. “Where is Y/N’s seat?”

“Oh! Jimin, dear… this is a bit unpleasant,” his mother says, stepping closer with clasped hands and (fake) apologetic eyes. “You know that we planned this event months prior… the charting was already made long ago. We didn’t know Y/N would be here today. Unfortunately, there was no time to tell the catering staff to provide one more seat at our table.”

Funny how your legs start feeling cold all of sudden.

It’s the second time you’re at a loss of words tonight, this time much worse than before. You grip Jimin’s arm just a little tighter, feeling how the situation is starting to get people’s attention. Mrs. Park isn’t trying to be quiet right now. Your legs are cold, but your neck and face suddenly warm up with embarrassment as the guests on the main table whisper among each other in confusion.

“We found a vacant seat, of course, right over there, Y/N,” Mrs. Park continues - for fuck’s sake, she just continues - pointing over to the other side of the hall. “With the Kim family. You’ll love them, I know it!”

Your brain can’t process a coherent sentence. 

With the corner of your eye, you notice Eunbi standing a few steps away awkwardly. She has the decency to look embarrassed, at least. Everyone else at the table is already seated.

You’re… you’re supposed to be their daughter-in-law. Their younger son’s girlfriend, the first girl he ever brought over. Yet… they refuse to let you sit by Jimin’s side on the main table, the hosts table, and want you to sit alone on the back so they can set up Jimin and Eunbi. And they’re doing it publicly.

This is the type of humiliation you wouldn’t expect from an adult, a mature person. But it’s happening nevertheless, and you want to sink and disappear. You can’t think of a quirky comeback, a way out that would make you feel less humiliated - even though Jimin isn’t even your real boyfriend and these people aren’t your real in-laws. This trip feels like a mistake, like a bad idea, like Mr. Zhou was absolutely right in his warning.

You’re so overwhelmed by this sour feeling that you don’t notice how Jimin’s smile disappears.

He sighs heavily, looking at his feet, jaw clenched.

“Okay.” He looks up at you - and you’re taken aback, because you’ve never seen Jimin angry before. “Y/N, let’s go back to our room.”

And he starts walking away, taking you along by the hand.

“What? Jimin- where’re you going?” Mrs. Park says, making Jimin stop. “Dinner’s about to be served.”

You see the warning in her eyes and gritted teeth and hardened smile, but for once, Jimin doesn’t play along. Doesn’t smile. Doesn’t speak louder, but when he does speak, it’s in a hard and serious tone.

“If Y/N doesn’t have a place here, neither do I. I don’t see why we should stay in this situation.” He doesn’t bother to whisper, aware that he has the table’s attention. “Now, if you’ll excuse us...” 

Oh shit. He’s angry and offended. Jimin turns around again, holding your hand tightly. 

In the midst of all the bad feelings, this is so satisfying. You’re simply happy that Jimin didn’t leave you on your own, didn’t lower his head to his parents. He stood up for you and is genuinely pissed! His mother is still babbling - she for sure didn’t expect Jimin to want to leave like this - and even Mr. Park got up from his seat; Eunbi is pale, her parents watch in disapproval, similar to Jimin’s older brother, who glares at him as if he did something wrong.

“Wait, Jimin, please,” someone else says, which catches both yours and Jimin’s attention: Mr. Hwang. He’s gotten up and looks between you and Mrs. Park cautiously. “I am sure we can solve this situation very easily. There’s no need to miss this amazing night.”

Mrs. Hwang also gets up; her eyes are widened with worry and an uneasy smile. “I am sure everyone at this table can move a little so Y/N can sit with us.” Murmurs of agreement echo around, much to the Park’s displeasure. “Waiter, please? Could you assist us?”

You and Jimin eye each other as Mrs. Hwang politely asks a nearby waiter to bring another chair, while the guests start getting up with no protest to open a little spot by Jimin’s side. In no time, there is one more chair at the table; another waitress hushes to bring a new set of plates and cutlery. 

“See? It’s done! Not a big problem at all.” Mr. Hwang says happily; the guests at the table also seem content. 

“I guess we can all sit now, right, Jimin?” His wife says. “We all would hate it if this lovely young lady missed the concert.” And to your surprise - the table agrees.

You look at Jimin again. He doesn’t look happy - not at all - but it seems that he softened up a bit because of the Hwang couple; same goes for you. If this was a competition for Best Middle Aged Couple, the Hwangs would’ve won it by far.

He raises an eyebrow at you - a question. You shrug and nod in small movements. Although you’d rather not be here, at least Mrs. Park looks infuriated that her silly little plan didn’t work and she in fact caused a ridiculous scene. Her attempt at embarrassing you completely backfired.

Jimin sighs heavily and, instead of saying anything, walks back to the table once again. The guests sigh in relief; Eunbi looks even more awkward; the Parks are fuming. Jimin pushes the chair for you to sit, and as you do, a little spark of victory fills your chest. 

“I’m glad this is solved,” Mrs. Park says, glaring at you as if she wants to stab you with the nearest knife, a lip tightened smile. “I hate unforeseen events.”

You are the unforeseen event. About to be the worst she could ever imagine.

“It’s alright, Mrs. Park. Everyone makes mistakes sometimes.” You say sweetly. Jimin does his best not to laugh; she definitely wants to stab you. 

Me 1 x 0 Rattlesnake

A win, at last.

Everyone at the table does their best to forget The Seat Incident for the sake of a good mood. 

Lighthearted conversations. Good (amazing) food. The band plays soft background music. Understandably so, neither you and Jimin talk much - he is still visibly upset; chooses to just respond whenever someone mentions him or makes quiet comments in your ear from time to time. You, on the other hand, don’t talk much because the person sitting by your left side is Eunbi and you’d honestly rather swallow nails than willingly have a conversation with her.

All things considered, everything is going alright. They’re asking fewer questions than yesterday, which is great, so you can focus on whatever the name of this thing you’re eating is - taking small bites and chewing slowly so you don’t look impolite and desperate for food. Your stomach twirls every time you hear Jimin’s parents' voices, though, which makes you enjoy the taste less.

You’re doing great, you mentally pat yourself on the back. A few more hours and you’ll be back in your room. Just get this over with. 

After pretty much everyone is done eating - your stomach is so full that the dress becomes uncomfortably tight -, Mr. Park gets up from the chair and softly clicks the side of a knife on a crystal glass, enough to call everyone’s attention. You notice when a waiter swiftly places a mic on the table for him.

The band stops. Everyone goes silent. Mr. Park Hyunjun takes the mic, a soft smile adorning his features, as the spotlight focuses on him.

“Good evening once again, my friends.” His deep and elegant voice echoes softly through the speakers. The whole hall greets him back. “I hope everyone enjoyed this amazing dinner prepared by Chef Mauro Bianchi. Mr. Mauro, it is a pleasure to have you with us once again.”

A round of applause. An aggressively Italian man with a cook outfit politely bows and smiles as the spotlight focuses on him in the back of the hall, close to the kitchen doors. Of course Mr. Park only acknowledges the worldwide famous, I-don’t-know-how-many-Michelin-stars holder Chef, but not the entirety of the staff that helped organize and serve everyone. 

“As most of the friends present here already know, me and my dear wife prepare this event every year not only as a celebration of our union, but also as a celebration of all the many achievements and challenges we win throughout the year.” He makes a dramatic pause, his eyes scanning the crowd to make sure everyone is paying attention - and everyone indeed is; despite your hatred for the man, you can’t deny that with this level of oratory, he could’ve easily been a news anchor.

He offers his hand to help his wife get up from the chair as another round of applause echoes. Mrs. Rattlesnake has a pretty smile, you have to admit. Once again - yeah, they do look great together, and otherwise you’d think this is all too sweet, but there’s just something inherently wrong with this scene… too poised, robotic - trained to detail.

“And past year was indeed one of the most significant of our lives. After much work, Aurum ranked fifth place as one of the biggest steel companies in the world. We’ve achieved heights my parents would’ve never imagined.” He continues. More applause. What does it even have to do with his marriage? “Unity. This is the word for our 30th anniversary. Everything we’ve made and built, we did together - and I’m sure we wouldn’t have gotten this far if we were apart.” Oh, so your fortune was “achieved” because of your wife? I thought it was because of the already rich company your dad left on your hands. 

“And the oyster, my friends, is the perfect symbol of unity; it summons up our life as a couple very well.” He looks at his wife sweetly. You have trouble telling if Mrs. Rattlesnake’s glossy eyes are fake or not. “An oyster. Two shells, pressed together - working together to create the most beautiful pearl. And our pearls, our jewels - the biggest gift this marriage brought us both - is our two sons.”

My God.

You want to vomit.

The applause is a bit louder now as the spotlight focuses on both Jimin and Hyungsik. Both of them smile and wave to the public. If you hadn’t spent the most uncomfortable hours of your life around this family, you would’ve fallen for Mr. Park’s sweet words - but hell no. I mean, it might be true about Hyungsik - but Jimin? The dear son they very publicly disrespected only barely an hour ago, by ignoring his partner? The dear son they mock constantly, scold, disrespect, and want to force into an arranged marriage against his will?

These people genuinely make you sick.

You’re a bit surprised as Jimin grabs your hand under the tablecloth, where no one can see. You take it and squeeze softly. He wants to vomit as much as you do.

“You two are live proof of our love, and we are so proud to know you’re our children.” The applause continues as Mr. Park speaks this time. Kind of funny how he says that while Jimin himself stated that he sees his parents once a year. That’s not the behavior of someone that cares this much. 

“Unity. Family. Love. Friendship. It’s what we’ve been harvesting together for the past 30 years, and I couldn’t be more happy and grateful.” He squeezes his wife’s hand sweetly. “Now, let us celebrate together, my dear friends.”

The lights go off while the hall applauds; the band starts playing again, way louder this time - a melody you’re familiar with - and when all the spotlights focus on the stage-

You gasp loudly.

“What the-?!” You whisper in utter shock. Jimin chuckles.

The woman standing on the stage is… is Kim Gain.

Like, why are you even surprised at this point? What, you thought the Parks would’ve hired a bar singer for their super expensive wedding anniversary? But even so, you didn’t expect to be seeing the 90s love songs’ legend Kim fucking Gain standing a few meters away from you, wearing a gorgeous long silver dress, her beautiful and powerful voice filling the hall as she sings her all-time smash hit Flower Hill. This woman doesn’t even do concerts anymore! You can’t even imagine the insane amount of money they must’ve paid her to do a private concert. 

She sings looking directly at the main couple, and God- despite the age, her voice sounds even better live than recorded. It makes you forget for a while all of tonight’s awful events. You quietly hum along to the lyrics of Flower Hill word by word - it’s impossible to not know this song, not only because it’s a classic, but because it’s your mother’s favorite song and she hammered it into your head.

Your memories are as clear as the blue sky; your mother played her CD over and over again - this song specifically - while she prepared lunch. You helped her peel the boiled eggs, standing on a stool so you’d get tall enough to reach the sink, while she cut cabbage swiftly. You both sang along to Flower Hill. Even your father would hum along eventually as he put the dried bowls on their respective cabinets.

It’s a good childhood memory. One of the few. You remember thinking that your mother looked so beautiful when she wasn’t frowning and angry at you.

And all of sudden - sadness hits you like a truck.

Funny how being humiliated in front of these people didn’t even get close to making you cry the way just thinking of your mother does.

You sigh and look down, that familiar heavy thing growing in your chest, stubborn tears that you blink away before they can even come. Shit shit shit. Don’t you dare to cry here, Y/N, you scold yourself harshly. But goddammit- Mrs. Kim Gain sings really well, and when the chorus hits, you always melt away.

It’s moments like this that remind you that you are, in fact, not indifferent. And you are, in fact, far more hurt that you can put into words.

It’s your turn to squeeze Jimin’s hand for comfort.

He eyes you quietly, confused - but chooses to not make any comment.

You elbow Jimin’s side, eyes squinted, as if unsure of what you’re seeing.

“What?” He asks, relaxing on the chair next to yours, now sitting on a table at the external part of the hall. Finally some cool night air; from the external part, you have a wonderful view of the immense garden that goes down the hill directly to the sea. You can see the pier down there; it’s full of parked yachts - much more than during the day - but there’s some in the distance as well, shining against the otherwise pitch black sea like little stars.

“Am I crazy,” you say after sipping more champagne from the glass, “or that’s Kim Minju?”

You discreetly point to a certain girl standing inside the hall. She’s tall and gorgeous, wearing a green sundress. You’re not really into idols - you don’t have time to keep up with celebrities at all - but even someone like you can recognize Kim Minju, the new “it” girl from the new “it” group everyone’s been talking about lately.

Jimin squints his eyes as well, and when he sees who you’re pointing at, he nods. “Yep, it’s her.”

You raise one eyebrow up. “Why are your parents friends with teenage celebrities?”

“They’re friends with her mother.” Jimin sips from his own glass of champagne. He took his blazer off and rolled the shirt up to his elbows, looking much more relaxed now that he can finally stay away from his family. 

Kim Gain finished her concert, which meant people were allowed to just hang around and talk again, while the band kept playing background music. You decided to leave the main table as soon as you could, finding this almost-hidden table at the external balcony (you’re glad it’s this hidden, because it’s getting hard to sit all lady-like with your feet hurting like this. These Givenchy sandals were way too expensive to be this uncomfortable to wear).  Jungkook was hanging out with you two minutes ago, but suddenly something “very important” happened and he had to leave (in other words: some hot girl passed by and he went after her).

“And her mother is…?”

“One of MNET’s biggest shareholders, basically. Why do you think Minju is the most popular member? Her mother pays for her to be the center, to have the best clothes… this kind of thing.” He speaks in a low voice, aware of the people around. “Most popular idols are only popular because their families pay for their popularity.”

“Oh.” Makes sense. You look him up and down, the hint of a playful smile on your lips. “You could’ve asked your parents for help in this area, Jimin. You would’ve made a great idol.”

Jimin chuckles and pushes his hair back. “I know, right? But I don’t think I would survive a day in this life. I mean- a dating ban?” He scowls. “Just no.”

You chuckle too, resting your chin on your palm. You’ve only been sipping champagne - though they’re serving other interesting drinks, too -, afraid to get even slightly intoxicated and embarrass yourself (and Jimin) in front of these people. Even so, this champagne is starting to make you feel a little funny inside. Maybe I should stop.

“How do you even know this dating ban thing is real?” You raise one eyebrow at him. Jimin huffs.

“I had a thing with this idol girl for a while.” He says nonchalantly - then interrupts himself, as if he just realized he said something he shouldn’t. He eyes you apologetically.

“I don’t care if you talk about other girls.” You assure, rolling your eyes. And you actually don’t. It’s not like you have anything real going on for you to care. (You’re quietly blaming your rage fit against Hari earlier today on the alcohol).

“Really?”

“Yeah. Why would I?”

Jimin looks at you in silence.

“Kinda hoped you’d be jealous.”

You laugh it off, furiously ignoring the butterflies in your stomach. “Just tell the story, Jimin.”

He seems dramatically disappointed, which makes you giggle again. Jimin sips more champagne and tilts his head.

 “So… me and this girl. Whenever we went out together, we had to literally - I mean literally - hide. Wearing masks, sunglasses, hoodies, all this stuff. At the beginning it was kind of fun, but then it got unbearable. Her manager kept calling her all the time to know where she was. One time, a paparazzi caught us and I had to pay them a shitton of money to not release the photos.”

“Why didn’t she pay for it? Or her company?” You ask, genuinely curious. 

“Because her company didn’t know. She didn’t tell them, scared of getting punished or whatever. And she didn’t have the amount they asked for. So I paid for it.” He shrugs. “Then I broke up with her. I mean, I wasn’t doing anything wrong, why did I have to hide?”

“Yeah, sounds like a strict life. I don’t think I could take it, either.”

You notice the way Jimin’s eyes glint with playfulness again; a mischievous smirk adorns his lips. He comes even closer to you and looks around, making sure the people aren’t paying attention to the conversation. 

“Back on the topic of Kim Minju,” he says in that quiet tone that means gossip. “Her mother is lesbian.”

Your eyes widen slightly. “Really? How do you know?”

“I know a lot of things about a lot of people.” He discreetly points to an elegant woman standing near Kim Minju - maybe just a bit younger than Mrs. Park. “That one.” You squint your eyes to analyze her. “She’s been ‘single’ for around ten years, since her divorce with Minju’s father. She’s, like… the most famous closeted lesbian I’ve ever seen. In terms of how much people I know she fucked, she must be only behind Mr. Junghoon.”

Your eyes widen even more. “Jungkook’s dad?!”

Jimin nods vehemently. “Yep. He must’ve fucked at least half of this hall. All those pretty younger wives.”

You eye Junghoon - standing in the middle of the hall, laughing at something someone said. “Like father, like son, I guess.” Jimin chuckles at this. “I mean, he is very hot for his age.”

“That’s not even the craziest person here.” Jimin narrows his eyes, looking for someone into the crowd. You find yourself entertained by his sudden will to spill people’s lives on you - it even makes you forget how much your feet hurt for a while. When he finds them, he elbows your side lightly. “That couple over there? The Kwons?”

You take around three seconds to find them- a middle aged couple, a bit older than Jimin’s parents, perhaps. They seemed very polite (considering you talked for less than two minutes).

“Yeah?”

“They host massive orgies.” You look at Jimin in pure shock. He looks back at you with his eyebrows raised in that I know, girl expression. “They have a mansion in Malibu only for this purpose. They invite dozens of people to participate.”

You sip more champagne. That conservative looking couple host orgies? They look like the type of people that think women showing their ankles is a sin. Appearances really mean nothing around here! “Were you ever invited?”

“Thank God no. And I wouldn’t go anyway. Not into voyeurism.” Jimin makes a disgusted scowl. “But I know some people that went there. They’re pretty creepy, actually. Just… stay away from them, okay?”

“Noted.” You’ve watched enough documentaries about how rich people can be creepy to know Jimin isn’t kidding.

“There’s also, let’s see… oh! Jinwoo, over there.” He points to a man in his early thirties that you briefly greeted earlier today. “His marriage was arranged, too. I heard he has a severe humiliation kink. He likes to be treated like shit by women.” You cover your mouth with your hand, trying to hide the bubbling giggle. Not to kinkshame anyone, but wow. “But his wife is not into it at all. From what I’ve heard, they even live in separate houses. So Jinwoo has to pay women to satisfy him.”

“I wouldn’t think that of him… he looks like the type that calls women females.” You remark. 

“People around here look nothing like they actually are.” Jimin sips more champagne. You expectantly wait for him to tell you more - (1) because you like gossiping (2) because this is the most fun you’ve had the entire night. “Oh! Minho and Krystal. Over there.”

Said couple is standing quite far, talking to Jimin’s brother and his wife. They must be in their early thirties, too; an attractive couple that haven’t stepped away from each other the whole time. You briefly remember thinking they looked cute together.

“Yeah?”

“They’re in a forced marriage, too. Minho is gay.”

You pause. “They look genuine.”

“They’re not.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I met him in a bar last year in Berlin. He hit on me. Insistently. He’s friends with my brother, so I turned him down. But yeah, I saw him with other guys there.”

You look back at Minho in silence.

Oh.

This one’s kinda sad.

“So… he was forced into marrying a woman even though he’s gay.” You reason out loud. “Does his family know?”

“Probably not. At least, they pretend they don’t.” Jimin sips more champagne with a sour expression.

“That’s fucked up in so many levels.” You’re starting to get angry just talking about it. “He’s trapped with this woman, having to pretend his entire life? All for the sake of appearances? What, are we stuck in the XVIII century and nobody told me?”

“I told you that’s how things work around here.” He says, staring at the bubbles in his champagne glass.

And he actually told you. In your third encounter, back at the convenience store. But you didn’t believe him. It felt too far from your reality to be taken seriously. Now, though - after finding out that most of these pristine looking people, the “role models” of society are in secret what they most demonize - you truly realize how awful everything is. This much hypocrisy feels repulsive, overwhelming.

Is this how Jimin has been feeling his entire life?

“What about you, Jimin?” you ask quietly, any hint of playfulness gone from your face and voice.

“What about me?”

“What if you’re stuck in this situation? I mean, I remember what you told me back then. What if you want to marry a guy? Your parents would be against it… are you going to end like Minho? Having to pretend for the rest of your life? Can you accept this?”

Jimin sighs and hangs his head back, closing his eyes. You hate it because for a moment all you can look at is his half parted plump lips and your brain malfunctions for a sec.

“Let’s not talk about me, please?” He asks in a whiny, raspy voice.

“Why not? I’m worried about you. Can’t I be worried?” You put one hand on your hip, somehow starting to feel offended.

“No, you can’t.” He still hasn’t opened his eyes.

Yeah, you’re offended now. “Okay, then. I’m sorry for caring.”

Jimin looks at you with half opened eyes.

His voice drops.

“Don’t do this to me.”

“What?” You raise one eyebrow up.

“Act like you actually care.”

“Why do you think I’m acting?” You slightly push the empty champagne glass away, so nothing is between you two. Because he’s quieter, you unconsciously drop your voice, too.

“You said so. Method acting.” 

You’re getting tired of this “method acting” thing. You inhale heavily. “Well, I’m not acting right now.”

Jimin drops his eyes to his own empty champagne glass, drumming his fingers on the table softly. He makes a small pout. His lips are so damn attractive. “You know, I’m conflicted about you.”

“Please elaborate.”

“I know I shouldn’t be expecting anything real from you at all, since I hired you to be here. But why do I feel that something real is going on?” He looks up at you again. “But then, sometimes, I feel like it’s not? I don’t know what to think of you.”

Holy Shit.

He went straight to the point.

You feel goosebumps on your spine (though you try to blame it on the cool breeze hitting your back, not on Jimin’s piercing gaze, of course). It’s kind of creepy how Jimin can balance being silly and cute in a moment and then boom - painfully straightforward a second later. He didn’t beat around the bush at all.

And yeah, you get what he meant.

You can’t tell if something real is going on. It’s way too early to say something “real” - whatever it is - is happening; you barely even know Jimin. At the same time he doesn’t know if you’re serious, you don’t know if he is being serious; many times, it feels like he’s acting, putting up a character around you. The way you’re rapidly getting attached to him is scary - what if you’re getting attached to a character? What if you’re surprised by Jimin’s real persona in the worst way possible?

You have no idea about any of that.

What you know, though - something that is very real, is almost visible - is the undeniable attraction you feel for each other.

This isn’t deep. You don’t have to think much about it.

And right now - with the alcohol subtly fogging your judgment and making you feel hot inside; the accumulated tension - you don’t really want to fight back anymore. You don’t want to think of consequences. All you can think of is his pretty plump lips.

You smirk, resting your face on your palm again. You see how this single look of yours affects him. You’re not the only one that can do this, Jimin.

“You know,” your voice is very quiet right now; half lidded eyes that stare back at him with the same intensity. “Knowing everything isn’t fun. I think it’s better this way.”

You’re still in public, but it’s like everyone else becomes distant. 

Jimin smirks, too.

“Let’s play a game, then.” He says all of sudden, getting even closer to you, on the edge of his seat. “I’ll ask a few questions. You can answer them or not.”

You feel his hand on your leg, under the tablecloth.

This makes you widen your eyes, surprised, looking around discreetly. “What are you doing?”

“You said your feet hurt, pretty.” Oh shit. That mischievous tone, playful smile, glinting eyes. You’re a popsicle melting under his heat. You cover your mouth with your hand, trying not to giggle, as Jimin rests your left leg over his own legs. “Free massage.”

You’re kind of hidden - your leg is fully under the tablecloth - but you still look around frantically, trying not to make any weird face. “Jimin- they’ll see us.”

Jimin clicks his tongue at the same time he swiftly unbuckles your sandal and places it on the floor. Your heart beats faster with adrenaline - if any auntie sees this, they might want to arrest me! “They’re not paying attention to us.”

Indeed, no one is. Mr. and Mrs. Park are having a dance in the center of the hall; most of the crowd surrounds them. The place became dimly lit as the spotlight focuses only on the couple as they sway to a romantic tune and everyone watches them.

You’re about to make another complaint, but as both of his hands hold your aching foot, pressing it - you have to fight back what would be an obscene moan. It feels too good. Jimin chuckles.

“So, back on the game.” It’s criminal how he acts like he’s doing nothing wrong as his hands massage your foot. “Did you want to hook up with Hoseok?”

This comes so out of the blue that you freeze. “What made you think that?”

“I saw the way you looked at each other.”

Well. It’s not like Hoseok tried to pretend when he first saw you. “No. He’s hot, but no.”

Jimin nods. He seems satisfied with the answer. His hands work around your feet miraculously, pressing on the right spots, easing the pain. 

They go a bit up. On your ankles now.

Oh God.

“Did you want to hook up with Jungkook?” Still not looking at you.

“No.” You chuckle. “What got into you? Are you jealous?”

“I don’t know, am I?” He raises his eyebrows and shrugs, making you smile. “I’d only be jealous if something real was going on between us, right?”

His hands are traveling up your leg, still massaging as they do. You gulp heavily. Your heart beats faster.

“Right.”

Your thigh.

You gasp quietly as, in a sudden movement, he pushes you even closer to his body. The chair scratches on the floor. You’re glad the music is loud enough to mask the noise. 

His hands are warm. His smirk widens.

Jimin massages your thigh slowly. You don’t make any attempt to stop him. His hands are resting just a little distant from the hem of your dress. 

You want them to be under it. 

Yes, you are very much aware of all the people standing around, the things they’d think if they notice what is going on. But Jimin’s hands are on your thigh and you feel hotter inside every minute and his delicious lips are right there and holy fuck he’s enjoying torturing you as much as you enjoy being tortured and- you don’t even remember what you were worrying about a second ago.

“You’re so soft.” He says in a quiet, sultry voice that makes your insides quiver. “Are you feeling better now, pretty?”

“Mmmh-hmm” you say quietly as your breath gets deeper - which makes Jimin smile even more. “You’re good at this, did you know that? You have a hidden talent.”

He chuckles darkly, lifting his eyes to meet yours. “I could show you what else I can do with this talent of mine.”

His fingers - slowly, hesitantly - travel just a bit upwards, while he eyes you tentatively. He sees no disapproval or discomfort in your expression, which only ignites his excitement. He smirks and shakes his head slightly. 

“I’m actually going insane because of you, Y/N.” The smirk in his voice makes yet another goosebump run through your system. In response, you tilt your head to the side, eyeing him innocently.

“Why? I’m not doing anything.” You bite the tip of your tongue while smiling, which makes Jimin gulp.

Oh, the electricity. It almost sparks in the air with the power of a lightning. And to think you were trying to act all chaste not long ago, gaslighting yourself into thinking that doing anything with him would be equivalent as “selling yourself”.

Who fucking cares?

“Last question.” He says quietly, leaning even closer to you until his lips are right by your ear, sending shivers of excitement down your body. 

“Will you let finally let me fuck you?”

The words get stuck in your throat.

Jimin hasn’t been this obscenely straightforward up until now. It makes your mouth water, your heart beat faster. His voice wasn’t demanding. It was pleading. Like he was desperate for you and couldn’t take it anymore.

And that’s your last straw.

You lean away just enough to look at him. Fuck, he’s got pleading eyes, too. Your panties feel humid, you remember the last time you had sex was three months ago, you feel his warm hand on your thigh, dangerously close to your intimacy. 

You smile and, in a swift movement, move your leg away from his hand.

Jimin looks confused for a moment, his smile faltering, as you take the sandal and put it on your foot once again. He looks even more confused - maybe thinking you got offended? - when you get up and adjust your dress.

Then you look at him.

“Excuse me. I need to go to the toilet.”

Without looking back, you take the clutch from the table and make your way inside the hall.

The main couple is still having their moment in the middle of the hall - and for the first time you’re thankful to them, because no one even bats an eye as you discreetly make your way to the restroom. The dim lights hide you, not even waiters or security guards or photographers notice you. 

As you get into the black marble restroom - completely empty - you have around five seconds to look at your reflection in the mirror before Jimin walks in and shuts the door.

His lips on yours shut you mid-giggle.

Jimin grabs the back of your neck and glues his body on yours with the other hand as he hungrily kisses you - the kiss tastes like the cherry from your lipgloss and expensive champagne. You grab both sides of his neck as Jimin and you stumble to one of the stalls and you close the door clumsily. Holy fucking shit, it’s getting hot. The kiss is deep and desperate and full of desire. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he says in a breathy voice that makes you smile seductively. “Why you gotta do this to me?”

You unconsciously squeeze your thighs on one another as he leaves a wet kiss on your neck; you grab his shoulders for support. “I’m not doing anything yet.”

He chuckles darkly against your skin, his hot breath increases your temperature even more. His hand travels down your back to squeeze your ass, making you gasp lightly. He leaves one more wet kiss, and another, and another.

Jimin leans away so he can look at you. His lips are reddish, wet and a bit swollen. 

“You don’t need to.” He parts your legs with his own. Your insides bubble with excitement. “Look at you… all dolled up. The prettiest of all of them out there.” He licks his lips slowly. “I want to make a mess of you, Y/N. I want to see how pretty you look with your hair and makeup ruined by me.”

His knee presses on your intimacy, making you involuntarily sigh; the pressure is still too soft, not even close to satisfying the raging fire inside your body, but it already makes you gulp and breath heavier. God, you want this man inside of you. You need him. 

Jimin notices your change in expression and his smirk widens as he moves his knee against you, making you sigh again. You kiss him eagerly. There’s still music out there, but all you can hear is the kissing sounds and breaths and Jimin’s deep humm of approval.

“This is the face I wanted to see the most.” He whispers on your lips, his leg pressed against you, his hands caressing your waist and hips. “Let me make you feel good, pretty… please?” He pecks your lips. “Hmm?” He bites your bottom lip lightly, passing his tongue on it right after. “Can I fuck you now?”

Shit shit shit. It’s embarrassing how you already feel this wet while you barely even started. Were you this much touch starved? Or is it because you’ve been wanting this as much as him since the beginning?

You kiss him again.

“Not here.” you whisper in a breathy voice.

Jimin nods. It’s obvious. Anyone could walk in at any moment.

Back to your shared bungalow? It’s too far from here - only five minutes by car, yes, but you don’t think you can wait this long. Not to mention Mr. Zhou would be the one to drive you both back and you don’t want to look at that old man’s face before having sex.

Inside some car? But which car? This place is full of butlers and security guards, anyone would notice what’s going on. Just no.

As you’re about to ask where you could head to - Jimin’s eyes glint in that way that tells you he had an idea. 

His smirk widens.

He steps back and grabs your hand with a boyish, playful expression.

“Let’s go.”

You have time to grab the forgotten clutch from over the sink before Jimin drags you out of the restroom - luckily, the hall is still dimly lit and there aren’t many people back here. Discreetly, you two make your way towards the back exit - avoiding butlers and photographers at the main entrance - stepping out of the hall towards the stairs.

You finally realize where Jimin is heading to when you get to the sidewalk and he takes a turn to the left.

The pier.

Dozens of parked and empty yachts just around the corner.

You’re both laughing childishly as you run towards the pier - stopping only so you can yank those sandals off; who the hell could run in stilettos? - not caring to look back, feeling excitement and just the sheer joy of doing something you know you shouldn’t. The pier is quiet, there aren’t many people around; most yachts are dark. Jimin doesn’t drop your hand as he squints his eyes trying to find a specific one. When he does, he sprints towards it, dragging you along.

Jungkook’s yacht.

Completely dark. Cleaners, bartenders, all the staff are long gone, having finished their shifts long ago. 

There is a security guard standing in front of the entrance stairs, though.

He frowns as you two approach.

“Hey!” Jimin says in a happy voice. “You’re… Steven, right? Remember me? We were here earlier today.”

By the looks of it, his name is Steven, and he looks shocked that Jimin remembers it. “Good evening, sir. Did you need something?”

“You see, Steven, I might have forgotten something very important in the yacht.” Jimin says. You want to laugh. “I’d like to go check it out.”

“Of course, sir. Tell me what it is, I can ask another guard to check it for you-“

Jimin steps closer.

“No, Steven. I need to check it out. It’s kind of personal, you know?”

Steven eyes you and Jimin back and forth. 

The penny drops. His frown deepens. You’re not even embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, sir. I can’t let you in.” He says in a mix of hesitance and annoyance. “This is private property.”

“I know, Steven, and I’m glad my friend hired such a diligent security guard. You’re very professional.” Jimin is a bastard, isn’t he? “I promise I won’t get you in trouble. Just let me check, okay?”

Steven looks around. “I’m sorry, sir… I really can’t.” 

Jimin nods.

He drops your hand for the first time, reaching for the inside of his back pocket. 

You watch with your jaw dropped as he opens his wallet and puts a stack of money on Steven’s hand.

Jimin casually walks around with stacks of money in his wallet.

The security guard’s eyes are as widened as yours. That much money must be double - shit, triple - of what he’ll get for this shift. You see as his annoyance dissolves and his resolve to not let you in disappears.

“It’s a really tiny thing I’m looking for, so it’ll take, I don’t know… an hour?” Jimin looks back at you up and down and reaches for his wallet again. He takes another stack just as big and puts it on Steven’s hand. “Two hours, actually, to check the whole place.”

Steven gulps. It seems he’s furiously fighting against his work ethic - but the money on his hand is heavier. 

Steven steps aside, finally giving up. “Okay, sir.”

Jimin smiles and grabs your hand again. “Make sure to keep the other guards away, okay? Thank you so much!”

You two sprint up the stairs - you have time to mumble an embarrassed “thank you” - towards the deck.

The yacht is completely dark, except for some emergency lights. Jimin guides you around it. You know there are actual bedrooms here, but both of you are way too impatient to go up one more flight of stairs - so before you can even process what’s happening, Jimin has thrown you against the bar counter and is kissing you again.

You drop the sandals and the clutch on the wooden floor before entangling your arms around Jimin’s neck. He presses his body on yours so hard that you lean back, your back hits the counter. And to think you were right here a few hours ago, surrounded by a bunch of people; it’s a completely different vibe with the lights off, silent, the darkness of the sea around you. 

It’s your turn to squeeze Jimin’s ass, which makes him chuckle against your lips. He leans away for a moment and seems to be searching for something; with a click of his, the glass top of the counter lits up - there are red led lights under it. Both him and you are painted red. 

Jimin looks at you with hungry eyes, out of breath. That damn smirk.

“You have no idea how much I’ve been wanting this, pretty.” He pushes you closer again, grabbing your hair and leaving noisy kisses on your neck.

“I think I do.” You say cockily. You’ve been aching for him all this time - and it’ even embarrassing to admit it to yourself -; it’s embarrassing that Jimin is everything you learned to hate (filthy rich, arrogant, a fuck boy) from your past experiences, but shit, you’ve been wondering how he would feel inside of you all this time, you’ve been craving him since that night in your tiny apartment… and you’ve been wondering if he fucks as good as he talks.

Your hand bravely travels to his front. You rest your palm on his crotch, gently pressing it - earning a soft sigh from him. He’s stone hard. It makes you chuckle cockily against his ear, and the sensual sound sends shivers down Jimin’s spine. 

“No, no, no… you don’t really know.” His lips are on your ear as he speaks quietly and deeply. While one of his hands are still tightly entangled in your hair, the other travels down your back - which already almost makes you melt - to rest on your ass; in a slow but unhesitant movement, he grabs the hem of your dress and pulls it up to your hips, fully exposing your ass. “Ever since that time at the store…” he massages your asscheeks with both palms and squeezes it gently. You lick his neck in response. “When you looked at me with such disdain… you were reading a fucking text book behind that counter, looking at me as if you were so much better than me… I imagined fucking you over that same counter, pretty.” Goosebumps. He grabs one of your thighs and you instinctively wrap it around his waist; when he humps his clothed core against yours, you can’t fight back a soft moan. “I imagined fucking you over and over again. Such a hard-working girl…” He humps again, stronger this time. “So pretty…”

Your impatient fingers search for the lapel of his blazer, and you help him take it off, dropping it on the floor; you grab his face with both hands and your lips are pressed again in a hot dance, while he still humps slowly and sensually; each rub on your clothed clit sends electricity and heat through your veins. Your lower part is almost totally uncovered, except for the black lace thong you wear, and the cool ocean breeze makes the tiny hairs on your body raise. Everything is red and hot. Some sane part of your brain registers that if there’s anyone inside the neighbor yachts, they will totally see what’s happening - and it only adds to the excitement.

Jimin breaks the kiss and leans back slightly with half lidded eyes. His lips are shiny and stained with your lipgloss. He’s so sexy that the vision itself makes you feel pleasure.

He grips your ass tightly and watches intently as his movements make your breath get deeper each time, makes you sigh and moan softly. His breathing is deeper, too; his Adam’s apple moves when he gulps. He licks his bottom lip sensually, feeling the taste of your sweet lipgloss. He keeps you glued to his body as both of you move your hips against each other, rubbing your clothed intimacies to a more urgent pace; there are already droplets of sweat starting to cover his forehead. 

“You’re so fucking hot.” He whispers, watching you whimper. 

“Touch me.” Your voice sounds strangled and slightly out of breath, which makes Jimin smile darkly. “Please.”

“Baby, you don’t need to beg.” He’s so visibly proud of himself and excited that he’s almost glowing more than the red led lights. The hand that supported your leg swiftly travels to your front and he unashamedly presses it on your clothed core, feeling the lace with his fingertips and the wetness underneath. The smile widens. “I’m going to give you anything you want tonight. Anything.”

Your head drops back when he starts to move his fingers in circular movements over your clit. He watches your every reaction intently with that same darkened gaze and smile. With the other hand, he grabs the back of your neck and once again glues his lips to your ear: 

“I want to hear you moan for me, baby.”

He says as his fingers slip under the fabric of the thong.

You shiver and an obscene whimper leaves your lips when his cool fingers make contact with your warm, wet intimacy. He hums in approval - and the deep sound makes your legs shake -, feeling your arousal, before once again putting pressure on your clit and moving his fingers in provocative circles. That’s a man that knows what to do with a clit, by the way. You entrance tightens around nothing.

“You like that?” He whispers. You nod, eyes closed, lips half parted. “Hmmm…” is all you can say. His smile widens.

Instinctively, you start to buck your hips, following the movement of his hand. He increases the speed of his movements, noticing your eagerness. You feel the fire spreading from your core down your legs and stomach.

With a quiet chuckle, he suddenly wraps his other arm around your waist. You let a surprised gasp as Jimin lifts you from the ground with ease and makes you sit over the counter (you hadn’t realized that Jimin is that strong, which is kind of hot).

He stands between your legs and kisses you again. Your fingers run through his smooth hair; he massages your thighs, back and ass. You softly bite his delicious bottom lip, and it’s sick how you know he’s smiling before even opening your eyes.

“You want me so bad, baby. It’s kind of cute.” He breathes amidst a quiet chuckle. 

“You’re talking too much.” 

He chuckles again as his fingers search for the zipper on the back of your dress. “I can’t shut up when you’re around.” The quiet sound of the zipper somehow sounds loud right now. “I want you to pay attention to me and only me.”

“You have all of my attention now. Let’s see if you deserve it.” Jimin finds it sickening how you sound innocent and sweet as you say this, gazing at him with the most daring eyes he’s ever seen. He shakes his head in disbelief.

“Yeah, let’s see.”

Usually, you’d worry about taking the dress off, scared to damage it somehow, but as Jimin helps you lift it and put it over your head, you couldn’t care less. You’re not wearing a bra. Your chest is fully exposed; you rest your hands back on the counter, gazing at Jimin sweetly, as he almost drools over your body. 

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” He breathes heavily, mesmerized. Without wasting a second, he cups your breasts with both hands and squeezes them gently, earning a hum of approval from you. He kisses your neck, making his way down - slow, wet, loud kisses -, tasting you; you grip and massage his smooth hair, pulling it softly in ways that make him shiver.

When he hungrily mouths one of your hardened nipples, you bite your bottom lip and a soft moan escapes. Just the vision of his plump lips wrapped around your nipple makes you wetter. He swirls his warm, wet tongue around it, while his hand still works on your other breast, massaging it in delicious movements. He sucks your nipple, making a loud noise, before biting it gently - earning a hiss from you.

“I like that sound.” He says against your skin, looking up at you with a smile. “God, you’re delicious.” He kisses a spot on your stomach, under your breast. “You smell so good…” Another kiss. Lower this time. “I want to eat you.”

You giggle, biting your lip provocatively - as if his actions aren’t making you go insane. “Then do it.”

It’s his turn to laugh as he shakes his head; his smile is angelical - even though, right now, with the red light painting his face as he helps you position your feet on the counter - your hands supporting the weight of your body as you lean back slightly, totally spread and exposed for him -, he looks like a hungry demon.

God. You never had sex in such an open place before. The ocean breeze hits your body, making you shiver, at the same time that you’re burning from the inside, trembling in expectation. Jimin takes the hem of your thong and helps you take it off slowly, well aware of how painful making you wait is. He drops the last piece of clothing to the floor before grabbing the insides of your thighs, spreading you even more.

You’re naked and open over a bar counter, where anyone from the neighboring yachts can see you, with a million dollar necklace around your neck - and you’ve never been so aroused before.

Jimin licks his lips, eyes locked on your cunt. “You’re so wet for me, baby.” You bite your bottom lip hard when his fingers press on your clit in circular movements again for some moments before spreading your pussy lips with his index and pointed finger. “I can’t wait to be inside of you.”

He wraps his lips on your clit.

You throw your head back and actually moan this time.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck - his plump lips around your clit feel like heaven, much better than what your dirty mind could think of. He sucks softly and licks you, from your entrance to your clit again, flicking his tongue over it (once again - that’s a man that knows what to do with a clit). His warm, wet muscle moving against your most sensitive part makes waves of heat and raw pleasure run through your body, completely clouding your mind, as your fingers grip his hair and moans and hisses escape through your lips. Your sounds of pleasure, the wet noises he makes as he sucks you and the ocean waves create the most obscene and beautiful symphony you’ve ever heard.

“Fuck-“ you manage to breathe out somehow. If he weren’t busy sucking your clit, he would’ve smirked cockily. “Feel so good, baby…”

He leans away for a moment, actually smirking this time. His lips are so wet that the sight makes you more wet. “Shit, if you call me like that again, I will cum in my pants.”

This makes you smile - but your smile goes away quickly as he carefully introduces two fingers inside of you, making you moan and bite your bottom lip. You’re so wet that they slide in easily - but you’re also very tight due to not being penetrated in a while, which makes Jimin move slowly. He watches your cunt with the attention of a professional. Fuck, he might be a pro at this, actually.

He curls his fingers inside of you slowly, making you lose your breath; Jimin pays attention to your every reaction. “You like that, pretty?”

“Y-Yeah,” you moan, nodding, still biting your bottom lip. Jimin looks up at you with a fog in his eyes.

“You look so fucking hot right now, Y/N.” Somehow, the way he calls your name in that low tone instead of pretty sends goosebumps down your spine. He keeps eye contact while his fingers keep moving inside of you. He starts pulling them in and out, and you close your eyes for a moment, feeling shockwaves of pleasure every time he does so. Your breath gets shallow and quick, and out of instinct, you start bucking your hips, following his movements.

He mouths your clit once again while his fingers are still busy, making you moan louder. “R-Right there, Jimin-“ you stutter in a breathless voice. “Just like that…”

You don’t need to ask twice - he keeps hitting the same spot as his mouth works on your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue over it, slurping all of your juices. You grip his hair for dear life, incapable of doing anything but moan and hiss and sweat, feeling your legs shake. You also think Jimin looks so fucking hot right now - head between your legs, hair an absolute mess (your fault), wet lips and the hungriest eyes you’ve ever seen in your life.

It might be because you’ve been touch starved for a while, or because Jimin eats pussy too well, or because you’ve been dreaming of this moment with him - but you already feel the orgasm building up. “Don’t fucking stop,” you beg him - and he obeys, sucking and licking mercilessly; maybe even Steven down there can hear the squelching noise your pussy makes every time his fingers move, or your moans that make Jimin feel the hardest he’s ever been. A small pool of your juices forms on the glass under you, dripping from your entrance. Jimin works on your cunt like his life depends on it. You feel the overwhelming heat building up in your stomach, your body shaking, your lungs failing-

You grip Jimin’s hair hard and yank him away from your pussy as the orgasm hits (you pulled so hard that it hurt his scalp - and he loved it); he also loved how tight you clenched his fingers as the orgasm made you convulse, just imagining how it would feel to be inside you. He watches you with pride, all covered in sweat and helpless, your face contorted in pleasure. 

He takes his fingers out of you slowly, standing straight again to press his lips on yours - and you don’t care to taste yourself on his lips. Your legs are still weak and trembling when one of his arms once again wraps around your waist and he helps you stand up on the floor, never breaking apart.

“Baby, I need you around me.” He whispers between kisses - and it almost sounds like a whimper, which makes your legs even weaker. “Will you get on your knees for me? Hmm?”

It’s your turn to obey promptly - Jimin ate you out so good that he deserves it. Without saying anything, and still keeping eye contact, you get on your knees, batting your lashes prettily at him while your fingers work on his belt. Jimin takes some strands of hair away from your face, mesmerized; ever since you first met, he always looked at you in a way that made you feel attractive, and right now it has just increased tenfold.

Jimin unzips his pants and frees his cock from his black boxers. You gulp at the sight of his girthy, veiny cock; he’s stone hard, pulsating, and you wonder exactly how long he’s been hard already. He pumps himself slowly, while you once again lock eyes. 

“Shit- you look even better than I imagined.” He says in a low, breathy tone. Just the fact that your usually fierce and unbashful persona is obediently kneeled down in front of his dick, looking up at him with sweet round eyes (you’re too good at this), eyes clouded still recovering from your high, almost sends him over the edge. 

You stick your tongue out and lick his pink tip, immediately earning a hiss of pleasure. Your lips wrap around the tip and you suck gently at first, teasing him, never breaking eye contact, while he still pumps himself. Jimin gulps, licking his wet lips; the sight itself makes you tighten your pussy around nothing. 

“Open your mouth for me.” He says - and this time it doesn’t sound like he’s asking, meaning he’s more desperate. You promptly do so, sticking your tongue out again. He slaps his cock against your tongue, hissing - and it’s fucking evil how you’re smiling right now, he thinks - while his other hand grips the hair at the top of your head firmly.

He pushes in. Fuck - he’s big and fat and you gag around him, but at the same time, he tastes delicious, if it even makes sense. Jimin closes his eyes and throws his head back, starting to roll his hips against your face, as his hand still keeps your head in place and your lips tighten around his cock. 

“Shit– you look so good with my cock stuffed down your throat,” he hisses, increasing the speed of his thrusts. Drool and spit drip from the corners of your mouth, you gag and whimper, but it’s the daring gaze locked on his that tells Jimin he can just keep going. “So obedient, baby, taking me like a big girl… fuck– I want to cum all over your face.”

You hum with his dick in your mouth, sending vibrations that make him groan with pleasure. His balls slap on your chin every time he thrusts, and you keep your lips tightened around him, trying to give him the pressure he needs. There’s something sensual about you being naked while he’s still fully clothed - and you never thought you’d feel this way for anyone. He looks so hot with sweat covering his forehead, strands of hair falling over eyes, half lidded eyes and parted lips in a face of pure pleasure; fuck, you’d let him fuck your throat whenever he wanted, you’d suck him forever if it meant you would have this sight every time you did it.

His grunts and moans and hisses make you melt every time, even though his movements become more and more uncomfortable as he stuffs himself in your throat in quick thrusts that make you whimper and feel tears grow in your eyes. As if sensing this, Jimin yanks you off his cock and you gasp for air. He smiles at how messy you look right now, with drool dripping from your mouth and a thin layer of sweat over your forehead. 

“C’mere,” he breathes out, helping you get up and hurriedly guiding you towards a nearby sun lounger. Closer to the yacht’s balcony, the ocean breeze hits your body harder, making you shiver. “How do you want me to fuck you, hm?”

Without saying a word, you smile devilishly before getting on your fours for him; you arch your back and purr like a cat, ass up, chest touching the lounger. You're still smiling and biting your lip when you look at him from over your shoulder, mesmerized by the sight of your stretched pussy.

Jimin steps closer and massages your asscheek before slapping hard, earning you a soft hiss. “You’re amazing. Can’t stop saying that. You’re perfect, baby.” He grips your hip with one hand while the other guides his cock to your entrance, getting the tip wetter with your juices. “You’re so good that you make me wanna fuck you raw, baby.”

Truth is - you didn’t even think of protection, and you couldn’t care less in this moment, as wrong as it is - but God, when Jimin finally pushes in, stretching your pussy as both of you moan in pleasure, you couldn’t be more thankful that his cock is uncovered so you can feel his skin purely.

Your breathing fails and you grip the fabric of the lounger tight, adjusting to the pressure and the slight pain it causes. Jimin pushes balls deep in, slowly at first, throwing his head back in delight. “Your pussy is so fucking tight, pretty…”

He starts to thrust in and out, making you moan each time with the glorious friction you desired so much. “Fuck– f-feel so good, Jimin…” you purr, arching your back even more. He grips both sides of your hips firmly, increasing speed with each thrust; the sound of skin hitting skin repeatedly is everything you can hear beside yours and Jimin’s moans and grunts.

Every nerve in your body seems to be on fire. His cock punches deep into your pussy, pushing you closer and closer to actual insanity as your mind becomes incapable of noticing anything but the feeling of him hammering inside of you over and over again, his strong grip on your hips, stuffing you even better than you had fantasized. Sweat covers all of your body now, and the necklace hurts your collarbones since you’re pressed against the lounger, but you couldn’t care less right now. 

“I love hearing you moan, pretty.” He sounds out of breath and sexy. You gasp in surprise when, suddenly, he grips your hair and pulls it, forcing your head back. It burns your scalp; you hiss in pain, but the pain mixes with the overwhelming pleasure and somehow doubles it. “Fuck– this pussy’s all mine. You’re all mine.”

You never thought Jimin was the possessive type, but people babble whatever comes to their minds when they fuck, right? That’s why, mindlessly, you have the audacity to agree: “Y-Yeah, baby, I’m all yours– ah!”

He pulls your hair even harder at the same time he takes it all out just to slam himself balls deep in again in a way that lets you see stars and drool. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck– he’s merciless, relentless in his quick pace, ruthless in the way he grips you and spanks your ass - but, at the same time, his mouth is full of praises, grunting how good you feel or how pretty you are.

You whine in protest when he pulls out entirely without warning. “Turn around, I want to watch you getting fucked.”

Once again, you do as he said without complaints - but instead of immediately laying back again, your hurried fingers unbutton his shirt and you make him take it off, which Jimin does gladly, since the fabric was already glued to his body due to how much he was sweating. You lay back; Jimin grabs your legs and puts both knees over his shoulders.

He takes his cock with one hand while the other holds one of your thighs, slapping it on your clit a few times. You watch his face distort with pleasure when he pushes inside of you again. Jimin picks a fast pace from the beginning, holding both of your thighs, focused as if he’s on a mission; all you can do is moan and whimper helplessly, massaging your own breasts while Jimin drives both of you closer to your highs.

He watches the way your tits bounce with each thrust, your face covered with sweat, the way not even the ruined makeup makes you look ugly - and the fact that you’re wearing anything but diamonds somehow arouses him even more. You clench around him, pushing Jimin closer and closer to the edge. Neither of you are worrying about being quiet right now, and you can only hope that the ocean will be your ally in muffling your desperate moans.

But you’re suddenly forced to worry about it.

The sound of voices and steps yank both of you back to reality at the same time. 

Jimin stops moving. You and him look to the stairs barely five meters away at the same time.

Two voices coming closer.

“Sir, please-” you hear. It’s Steven’s voice - worried, almost freaked out.

And the second voice-

“B-But I’m sure I left it here somewhere…”

You both recognize it instantly.

A very drunk Jungkook.

You look back at Jimin with horror, eyes open wide, as he lets go of your legs and lays on top of you instead, shushing you. 

“Sir, please,” Steven’s panicked voice echoes again. “As I told you, the upper floors were waxed… you can’t go upstairs, it’ll ruin your shoes,” yeah, he came up with a smart excuse. But Jungkook keeps babbling about losing something, too drunk to understand.

If he comes upstairs, he’ll immediately see you. You’re not in a hidden spot at all. You want to get up and hurry away-

But then you look at Jimin again and he’s smirking devilishly.

He thrusts again, sending bolts of pleasure through your body.

Before you can moan - he covers your mouth with his hand.

Your eyes talk. Are you seriously doing this?

His eyes talk back. Yeah.

He thrusts again.

And again.

Your eyes roll back, you entangle your legs around his waist. Fuck, these men down there could come upstairs at any moment. They can hear you if you’re loud enough. If they come upstairs and see you in this situation, you don’t know if you’ll get over the embarrassment. But Jimin’s cock is stuffing you so deep and so good. He hits your spot again, and again, and again, and his dick is thick and heavy, and he could tear you open that you wouldn’t mind - so you don’t push Jimin away. No, you tighten your legs around him because don’t he dare stop; you grip his back, you bite your bottom lip in an attempt to keep quiet, but the fact that Jimin can still hear your muffled moans against his hand makes it hard for him to endure this much longer.

He hides his face on your neck in an attempt to muffle his own moans, biting your shoulder in a torturous slower pace now - if he goes too hard, the sound of skin hitting skin will be heard from the floor below. A part of your mind registers that Steven is desperately trying to lead Jungkook out of the yacht, while all the other parts are focused on Jimin’s member inside of you, his weight over your body, his teeth sinked on your shoulder. You can’t stop, neither does he. It’s like you’re in some type of trance.

After long, torturous minutes, you hear the voices going away.

Jimin is ruthless.

He lets go of your mouth and supports his body with his forearms on both sides of your face, pounding in despair; neither of you can take this much longer, it’s getting painful.

“F-Fuck, pretty, you did so well-” he somehow manages to breathe out, smirking in boyish excitement. “Such an obedient girl, hmpf, keeping quiet while I fuck you good…”

“Oh my God–” you whimper, feeling the second - and more intense - orgasm building up in the pit of your stomach. “D-Don’t fucking stop, Jimin–”

“Yes, baby, I’ll make you cum again–” he swiftly leans away and places one leg over his shoulder again, spreading you in an even better angle. “You deserve it, baby- shit, shit, shit–”

He punches inside of you over and over and over again until your walls are clenched and convulsing and your toes curl and your eyes roll and you grip the fabric of the lounger tight and your whole body shakes in an explosive orgasm. You’re breathless, weak; it was an almost out of body experience. Did you ever cum this hard before? You don’t think so.

And it’s not time to think of yourself, actually, because when your brain starts recovering from the high, you realize that Jimin had pulled out and is pumping his cock desperately, trying to reach his high. You grab his wrist, stopping him, and - Jimin almost loses it - you meow: “C’mere, come in my mouth.”

You sit up and he kneels over you until his member is on your face and, without wasting a second, you put it all into your mouth until you feel him in your throat, sucking him eagerly. Jimin moans and grips your hair while you pump your head over his length, producing loud suction noises. You just want him to cum as hard and good as he made you.

“Fuck– fuck, Y/N, I’m coming–” he warns in pant, pulling his cock out of your mouth.

You still keep it open, though, sticking your tongue out, as Jimin blows his load on you. You feel his hot seed dripping on your face, feel it on your lips and tongue. You patiently wait until he’s milked dry. Then, you open your eyes.

Jimin’s hair is an absolute mess. He’s all sweaty, panting heavily, face flushed, shaking slightly; you’ve never seen him look so glorious.

He opens a tired smirk.

And, with your gaze locked with his, you lick your lips and swallow.

It’s like he came again just seeing you do this.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Y/N.” He shakes his head in disbelief.

It is your turn to chuckle.

Yeah.

Maybe you will.

You let cum drip on a million dollar necklace.