#also seeing exactly where i lost steam is so funny

[bcyhoods]

hi! can I please request the prompt “caressing the other's cheek softly, hoping to wake them up that way” with steve and shy!reader? maybe it’s their first time waking up together and he’s just so in love?

thank you for the req nonnieeee <333 need him in my bed immediately, thanks! | 0.5k gn!reader

Steve can’t seem to put his finger on it.

Maybe you were born with some sort of super power. Like you’re able to induce serenity with just a touch of your fingertips, a timid press of your lips to his cheek. Or it could be something spiritual. Something about your souls being intertwined due to something living in the stars or the color of your aura or something.

He doesn’t really know. Waking up to you in his bed for the first time makes his brain all fuzzy.

The sun spills in through his blinds and covers every inch of your exposed skin in golden warmth. Your hair is wild, splayed out over his pillowcase — which he’s sure now smells like your shampoo. You’d slowly inched apart from each other during the night, but your hand still rests over his torso, accidentally bunching up the material of his shirt around your fingertips. The longer he lets himself look at you, the harder his heart thrashes around in his chest.

He doesn’t really want to wake you, but he so desperately wants to talk to you. With a tentative hand, he trails up your arm to cup your jaw. His thumb gently passes back and forth over the swell of your cheekbone, reveling in the softness of your skin. A blithe grin hijacks his mouth once he sees you beginning to stir.

“Hmm.” Your hand is gone from his torso to grasp onto his own hand, still just barely caressing your face. You blink a few times, adjusting to the brightness filtering in when you see his face. Warmth settles on his freckled cheeks and paints his skin pink, and it only gets deeper when you give him your own sleepy smile. “Morning.”

“Good morning,” he answers, voice raspy and deep.

He’s looking at you like he can find an answer in your eyes. You might have the entire universe hiding in your pupils. Definitely something akin to stardust shines in them, he swears.

His attention makes you feel lightheaded and your skin burns beneath his touch. You squeeze at his fingers and pucker your lips to fruitlessly keep your nerves at bay, but it produces a kind of upside-down grin that makes him beam and chuckle. You giggle and ask, “What are you doing?”

“Nothin’. Just wanna look at you.”

“Ugh,” you groan and roll your eyes, but the wide smile on your face reveals your secret. Steve Harrington makes your stomach flutter and makes your heart beat so erratically that you can feel it thump and shake against every inch of your body. That’s why you’re quick to shield your face with your hands, muffling your nervous giggles in your palms.

“Oh, stop.” Peeling your hands away from your face, he brings them up to his lips and kisses your knuckles, unceremoniously. The smacking sounds make you laugh, and when he notices, he makes sure to kiss them louder. He stops the assault on your hands to cup them together and press them against his chest.

His heart beats as quickly as yours does.

“I liked sleeping with you,” you tell him with a gummy smile like it was confidential.

“Yeah?”

You’re immediately recognizing the double entendre, but he’s too lovesick to notice. You consume his every thought, it’s impossible to get his mind working accurately. So instead of teasing you, he whispers

“I liked sleeping with you, too, honey.”

[mspandorasart]

Thoughts about Undertale Yellow

Greetings, I just returned from binging through Undertale Yellow, True Pacifist Route specifically, and am seeking a place to let out some thoughts (and steam). It's the first time I'm doing this type of "review" on my blog, but since my thoughts on it are quite strong, I thought, "hey, why the heck not"? Spoilers for the game and its ending ahead, fellas. Buckle up.

First off, let me begin by stating that, for the most part, I had a blast playing through it. The music is amazing, the boss themes real bangers, the environmental ones great as well. My favorite track was the OST that played in the Dunes: a really catchy western vibe with Flowey's theme in it as well, an earworm that filled me with Determination while running through the sandy fields. Then we have a beautiful pixel art style, gorgeous sceneries, great gameplay with challenging and fun boss fights (side note: although I couldn't fully appreciate Ceroba's fight since it had a couple pretty much unavoidable attacks. Or is it just skill issue on my part? Anyway, that part annoyed me more than it should have. Moving on, lmao.)

Furthermore, the game also has charming characters! They are the ones that kept me going and really ignited my interest. Not gonna lie, it took me until the town in the Dunes to become really invested in the game. Martlet is charming and cute, sure, but North Star and his gang, no, that guy specifically sold it for me. Charismatic, funny, very expressive sprites (well, all facial sprites are quite colorful, but it took me until North Star to appreciate/notice just how many there are for each character) and an interesting internal conflict with wanting to entertain others so they forget about the pain of being stuck underground, but at the same time being so absorbed in his persona that he temporarily acts like a douche towards his pals and forgets who he truly is. He also features my favorite joke in the game when he proudly proposes to the salesman that "he wants to buy a gun for the child". Freaking hilarious, love him, huehehue.

Story-wise, I was pleasantly surprised and taken aback by the dark twists of Ceroba and her husband Chujin. And I appreciated how the flashbacks got intigrated within her final boss fight. I don't know about you, but my biggest motivation to play RPGs are not just the gameplay, it's mainly the characters and the story. If the gameplay is amazing but the characters/plot boring, then I lose interest quickly. To me, the real rewards of a tough battle are story progression and seeing just what the characters will do next. Therefore, I greatly enjoyed the breaks between Ceroba's phases in which we saw parts of her backstory. They even made me cry!

...Although, to be honest, I don't exactly understand why we had that insight into her mind in the first place. Why did we survive so many hits to the point of 0.00001 HP? Where's that coming from all of a sudden? Why did time stop at some point like Za Warudo? Maybe that random plot armor (that happened the first time and never again) is explained in another route, but anyway, moving on-

This review-style blog entry only exists because of the True Pacifist ending. I'll be blunt, I hate it. Why?

So it ends with Clover sacrificing their soul for the monsters so they can eventually break free. Which is fine on its own. Clover is for the most part a blank slate of a character, only driven by their desire to seek the lost humans, that's basically it. Maybe it would have made a bit more sense for Clover to see an actual physical proof of their demise before they give up on them completely, but eh. I'm also wondering whether they are really okay with potentially another, possibly innocent human falling down sometime in the future only to get killed by the monsters. But oh well.

(You know, now that I think about it, I actually am a bit salty about Clover's decision to sacrifice themselves, lmao. Would've been kinda cool if it was up to the player, have another ending split.)

Anyways, the issue I'm having is how our cast of supporting characters, Martlet, North Star aka Starlo and Ceroba react to Clover's decision. They are shocked first, but... agree surprisingly quickly?? What?? Excuse me, the entire hassle we went through to get to this point was to stop Ceroba from taking Clover's soul. Now with Clover volunteering to sacrifice themselves, the gang is cool with it??

Of course they don't agree immediately, but are easily swayed within a few arguments back and forth. Man, what friends you are, guys. The reason I'm having this pet peeve in the first place is because we as the human, who has known these guys for just a day, did a lot for them, alright? They all tried to kill us at one point, but we took the beating, the hard battles, forgave them and were there for them during their internal conflicts. We were a pretty decent friend, if I may say so.

Especially with Ceroba! We did a lot to change her mind and path of self-destruction! Yet our so-called friends don't put in the same amount of effort when it comes to convincing us otherwise- or heck, use force if you must- get Clover away from there, lmao. Wouldn't it have been an interesting act of redemption on Ceroba's part, by the way, if she tried to stop us? Being touched by our mercy and refusal to give up on her, she does the same for us?

I suppose the reason I am so baffled by all this is because of Clover being a blank slate, the player character really felt like me, like I was going through the journey and not like I was controlling another character. It felt like my decision to spare them all, to talk to them and wanting to get to know them better. So the group of characters I have really grown to like giving up on me within about a minute of back-and-forth just felt... wow. Thanks, guys.

If I compare it to Undertale's True Pacifist in which every important supporting character gathers up after the confrontation with Asgore, all agreeing with the decision of me, the player, staying in the Underground with them, then oh boy, it really stings. Just would've been a cool, wholesome sign of friendship if Martlet, Starlo and Ceroba decided that "nah, even for the surface, we won't give up on Clover". By the way, in this game, we don't even really get to see why the monsters want to return to the surface so badly. They keep saying they want to, but what are the reasons exactly? More freedom, I suppose. Yet by expanding the Underground with the Dunes, the Mines, the Factory, and some of Snowdin, the Ruins and New Home, their habitat seemed so much larger than in the OG game- What I wanna say is, their desperation should've been shown way more instead of told, so the player can understand the monsters' aspiration better.

The thing is, it's a shockingly easy issue to fix if you really want "the canon ending" with Clover ending up dead and their soul taken: have Clover still have their moment of doubt and realization, remembering what the monsters told them throughout their journey. Then they go to Asgore with their gang, hoping to convince him. It doesn't work out, so Asgore starts a fight. During the battle, Clover realizes it's useless to fight back, it's better to have their soul taken for the monsters, so they allow Asgore to kill them. Their friends are not powerful enough to stop him. There ya have it.

Siiiiigh. Is it just me, being annoyed by that ending? As a whole, the finale felt a little... rushed? Was New Home always meant to be so empty? Is it to build up atmosphere? Yet there were two silly NPCs in the first screen of New Home, making me assume that maybe, there was another plan originally? (If it has been stated in a devlog or any other comment by the creators, then I apologize, I haven't read those fully.)

Anyways, if I didn't care about the game, this rant wouldn't even exist in the first place. I was really invested in the game until the ending just left me... kinda sad, not gonna lie. It will take me a while to process it all.

If you got this far, then thanks for reading. Am I the only one feeling this miffed about the ending? I might go back and edit this post if I find out there are things to be corrected. Buuuut as of now, happy holidays!

[magistralucis]

Moonquake [Snippet]

(Jesus Christ has it been over a year since I last posted any snippet of anything I’m working on??? 😩 Since I’m slowly getting back into my writing, have one from a pet project I began last year. I watched a lot of Tarkovsky last summer and it broke my brain, and what better cure for that than magical realism?

It’s not finished, I work on it tiny bits at a time. It’s a Tillchard. It reflects many real-life events and dynamics, but at the same time, it is so out-of-chronology I’m not sure this matters at all. Also Till might be a bird and Richard a moon wizard. It’s complicated. Have a peek.)

--------------------------------------------------------

"There's a barn burning tonight, down where old man Stefan lives." Till says one cloudy afternoon, and Richard looks up, his hair brushing shadows about his neck. Beneath it an earring glitters. Two mugs of coffee steam quietly on the counter. "You know the field opposite the cemetery gates, the house up that path. They asked if we'd come."

"A barn burning." Richard repeats. Till's gaze is as faraway as his voice. After a moment he stands up, then ties up his hair as he joins Till by the back door. "How's that, then?"

Till shrugs. "It's old. Mouldering. Besides, he's got a bigger one now." Their eyes fall upon the little shed further up the yard: Till's new workshop, humble but lovingly made, their most recent project together. Richard put up the walls, Till put on the roof, and the former had seemed more alive for their labours than he had in a long time. "He must've figured it wasn't worth paying to get it dismantled. And you know you want to keep an eye on anything that burns - maybe have a cookout, too, while everyone's around."

"I do." Then Richard is silent for a long time, thinking. He considers for so long he outlasts the heat of his coffee - as well as Nele's brief visit, bounding into the kitchen and demanding hugs, her hair ribbons coming all loose. It takes some teamwork (and pinky-promises for snacks) for the two men to retie them, after which she runs off again, and by then Richard has made up his mind. "Did you tell him we were coming?"

He hasn't gone out much recently. Till's gaze sparks a little, a revival of hope. "I wanted to leave it to your judgement."

Richard sniffs the air. Sweeter than the usual, and much heavier; it will rain in the night, but no later, when most of the barn will have smouldered down. In the deep snow it's hard to get a fire going at all, whereas in the bone-dry seasons, even a sole stray flame could be a disaster - yes, today's the right time, it'll be a good time. "Then let's all go together. Should we bring anything special, or are meat and drinks fine?"

"Funny you mention that." The spark has becoming a roaring fire, and Till smiles brightly, leaning in to take the other's hand. "Coming from the old man himself, our price of admission is one of your famous cakes... or a six-pack. Whichever's quickest, he said."

"A bag of quark is pretty quick; give me one, two hours."

And so they all go together - including Nele, since the days are still long and light and there will be other children there. Half the village has turned up. People are happy to see them, and especially delighted to see Richard; they all knew he had come back, but not exactly how or why, and the majority haven't even seen him in a long time. Richard takes it well. Till stays close to him all evening, and is glad for the shy happiness in his eyes, fragments of the old Sven he thought he'd lost for good.

Over dessert they finally light up the barn. It goes up in flames politely as only loved worn things do, since it was a damned good barn while it lasted. In the backdrop the village continues to feast: sweetmeats are laid out at table, old man Stefan herds his chickens away, and Nele sits happily over Richard's Käsekuchen and a large glass of milk. A griddle sizzles here, a cheer breaks out there. Above the smoke the night sky glowers vividly, casting a warm glow against friendly faces.

Many of them will not have cause to meet again that year. Gatherings such as these are uncommon these days, and with the recent reunification, they only threaten to grow rarer. With a quiet sigh Richard leans against the fence, contemplating the upturned order of things, when the promised rain comes at last. It falls in a slow mist initially - no different to the smoke above the barn - but then the thick drops come, and it's the tail end of the burning anyway, which wraps the festivities up somewhat. Some make their exit altogether, shouting goodbyes over waved bottles as they leave the gate, and some withdraw indoors with all the drinks and the cooking-things. Soon there is no one left but a select few, smokers mostly, and Till looking for Richard looking for a purpose.

"Scholle? Scholle, shall we go?"

Richard stands before the fence separating barn from field. Gazes. Past the lens of rain the flames lick in strange directions. Twenty-eight steps lie between himself and the fire, twenty-eight days since his revelation, a full moon since his life was inverted in the Schweriner See.

"... Scholle?"

He concentrates, and for the second time ever, he receives a response.

[changeling-rin]

Gerudo here. The Links are split up into four teams: Shade, Atlas, Haven, and Beacon. Team assignment shall be up to you based solely on vibes and/or whatever you think is funny. The teams are then sent to defeat an evil monster sorceress. They don't know where she is, they have an entire world to search, and she's insanely powerful, similar to about two-thirds of Fully Charged Demise. Whichever team defeats her first wins. The prize for winning is twofold: the team gets to decide to fix one thing about the world that they've been searching in (imagine a sci-fi/fantasy world with a corrupt government), as well as bragging rights.

Who is on what team, what are the dynamics between the teams, which team finds the sorceress first, which team defeats her, and what does the winning team decide needs fixing?

I'm gonna be honest here, the way you've worded this Ask makes it sound as though you already have this entire thing plotted out in your head? And you're just showing it to me as a perfunctory measure, to see if what I say matches up with what you've already decided.

...in shorter words, I'm very confused as to what, exactly, you want from me here? But I'll answer how I think you're looking for.

Team Shade: Shadow (for the puns!), Vio, Speck, Steam

Team Atlas: the Four, Green, Dusk, Wind

Team Haven: Red, Gen, Realm, Sketch

Team Beacon: Blue, Ocarina, Mask (and Oni by proxy), Lore

Dynamics Between Teams: well team beacon is a chaos entity in the purest sense of the phrase and any interactions with them inevitably result in something exploding. team shade has absolutely no impulse control. none. everything is a good idea and what could possibly go wrong? team atlas is sensible and longsuffering, and team haven is... trying very hard to be efficient, and failing epically. teams beacon and shade get along like a city block on fire. team atlas is usually too resigned to the chaos to try and reign anything in. meanwhile team haven is desperately trying to find where half their members went and failing at that, too.

Which Team Finds The Sorceress: well, technically, team haven did, because Realm got lost and wound up in her Evil Lair. But Realm also had no idea where he was at the time, so it's a bit debatable as to whether or not it actually counted?

Which Team Defeats Her: It's the result of a team-up between Shade and Beacon, where Shade decided to blow things up and Beacon decided that was a fantastic idea, here's a few ways we can make even more things blow up, and then the Evil Lair more-or-less got demolished as collateral damage and it all went sideways from there

What Do They Decide Needs Fixing: well the fact that there was an Evil Monster Sorceress in the first place seems like a bit of a problem, yeah? So they make it impossible for there to ever be another one. No more monsters, no more sorceresses, nope. none.

...

...hang on was this a RWBY reference? (Because I've never seen it, ever, but the monster sorceress sounds like that one villain you described in another, definitely RWBY-related ask, and now I'm wondering if I've missed something...)

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary43

10/20-21/2023

friday - saturday

wrote a good chunk today, a whole section put into draft, chunks added to prior parts, and a whole earlier lost bit retrieved, good day for writing.

i also did my piece for the new collaborative poem, surprisingly, i did that last today, funny how things work out. it's good i just jumped right into writing my main thing i guess. i also didn't add at the start there about how i also got a good start on the section after, it's still difficult, i have where it begins roughly, and i have a huge mid-section of it written, but there's an interrupt where i need to change the narrator's focus, i don't know how to get there totally (i have a half idea, about focusing on the people they're with/ what it's like to watch people dispassionately, maybe that's it, i like that, brb) okay so i wrote more now, that's good, that's the big concern of today taken care of, but writing is a lot less anxiety inducing than music, i think because i know with words i trust myself more, and if i focus and think about it, focus and thought are the most important parts, i can make things happen. with music it's like, a lot more intuition, and i guess i want to sound like something in my head, or a conception, a confluence of sounds/words/images that i need to be exact. it's also newer to me i guess. i've been making music since sophomore year of hs, i've been writing / speaking english for 10 years before that, even more i guess, but writing for sure began at 5, most likely like, 4 though, i suppose.

that's not to say i'm like super great or whatever either it's just true that i'm more familiar with that terrain.

listening to die kreuzen's first album, trying to think about how to write weirder hardcore riffs and stuff, i wanna pick up my guitar soon but it's the weekend so my gf is home all the time. sad. i should probably not write more songs but idk, i made a new guitar sound, i like it, i think i can use it for some new things and some old things too. tomorrow i think i will listen to a bunch of my songs and see what needs work/what doesn't again. thinking on it now, i wanna do it now. but i should not, it's very late, i'll get really weird about it i bet.

so i'll just listen to dropdead.

also my stomach hurts cuz i did not eat a lot today, i should have eaten more, but i drank coffee which tanked my appetite, i did cook but it wasn't a ton, and i didn't eat after really. let's see, it was 4 granola bars, two-four fistfuls of pretzels, apple, banana, dinner, which was pan fried chicken in gochujang butter + steamed vegetables. no wonder i am starving now. seeing it listed here it's not as much as i felt like it was.

tomorrow i can also write some riffs too probably, see what i feel like i guess. this new sound is kind of good for really annoying high stuff but also the low end stuff too, it's weird, it's also the kind of sound where i think it's one of the ones i might tweak a lot depending on the song and what register i leave it in, i can crank one of the effects to help give it more annoying trebly chiming stuff.

and oh my lanta it is 6am now wtf.

i was looking at fashionpress.net today, at the newest jennyfax photoshoot, and i think i want to make a guitar sound that kind of gets at what monibelle does in some of the photography i've seen her do. i don't know what that means exactly, and my interpretation of that is obviously leaning into the harshness/ weirdness more than any more harmonious features.

but the trashy/sharp and jagged thing cut into something sort of colorful (not here necessarily but in the earlier photoshoots it's something more present).

some kind of noisefreak thing, justin pearson's bass sound comes to mind as kind of getting at this kinda frayed digital thing, but i dunno, i want something sharper/clinkier. i don't think i can get a guitar to get all that out emotionally, so it's i guess a reference point for where i'm writing songs from, but it's weird to think like that maybe, it is in the back of my head though, it has been since starting this whole ordeal.

maybe this kinda gets there, as a whole song, but i also love this guy's guitar sound, it's so good and so scritchy scratchy.

trying to balance all that with my <3<3<3 of pv and other fast grindy shit is hard, or not totally, other bands managed, but i think some particularities of wanting it all to be there/felt is what makes me feel kind of insane.

and there's a new song where i should work on synth sounds, like proper synthy sounds. i think what i'll do is use one of my chiptune synths that's never in tune and pair that with either another one that is in tune, or something like a free and more complicated synth that can do more modulation stuff, maybe surge i dunno. it'll just be simple squarewave stuff i think, but i wanna make it chirp and flutter kinda.

making some of the synths stick out more in the mix is hard but as long as they're evidently there that's all that matters to me, i think they kind of add a glue to the songs, them and the obv synth basses are cool to me.

anyways look at these perfume bottles (i am the one with the spiky circle lashes) and gosh the time, like uhhhhhhh,

byebye!!!!!

[slothspaghettiwrites]

Shine For Me

Shine For Me

Story Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Kink: Katoptronophilia - a fetish for mirrors. Individuals who experience katoptroniophilia may participate more in activities such as masturbating, engaging in intercourse, stripping, or carrying out other sexual actions all in front of mirrors.

Warnings: unprotected sex, collar (kinda, the lingerie is strange), daddy kink, dom/sub undertones, cream pie, teasing, honestly tony and his dirty mouth, a lot of focus on you in the mirror

Relationships: Invisible Man!Tony Stark x fem!Reader

Word Count: 2192

A/N: Invisible Man - So, this isn't based on the book, but more closely related to the movies, but also not. Tony turns himself invisible and some hot hot hot mirror sex happens.

This work has Adult Content. By clicking “Keep Reading” you have agreed that you are over the age of 18 and are willing to view such content. My work is not to be copied or translated onto any other platform. I have discontinued my taglist - follow @slothspaghettilibrary to be notified of when I post new fics

“You better have a good excuse for fucking missing date night.” You hollered as the elevator dinged, announcing the arrival of one very late Tony Stark into your shared apartment.

Tony had been the one to suggest date night, had been the one to clear out time in his schedule, had been the one to suggest dinner and movie tonight. And he didn't show up. You waited, drinking the nice bottle of wine you picked out for the meal and staring at expensive china on the table. You stewed in your chair, resolute in not calling Tony. It was his job to remember date night.

"Tony?" You stood up, glass in hand, and walked over to him.

Or where he should have been. The entryway was empty, no telltale signs of Tony putting down a screwdriver he'd carried upstairs by mistake or a half-full coffee mug. You wandered around your house now, in search of whoever had just seemingly broken into your home. The shower in the en suite was turned on, steam wafting out from under the door. You purse your lips, first, he skips date night and now he is showering without you.

Well, two can play this fucking game.

Maybe it's the bottle of wine taking a turn at the wheel, but you slipped out of your clothes and walked into your closet. You knew exactly what you needed to put on to get back at Tony. The dainty gold chains shimmer against your naked body, the only thing keeping the intricate piece of lingerie together was the clasp at the back of your neck. With every step you took back to the bed you felt them. The chains caressed your collar, your nipples, your thighs, your ass, every part of you became hyper-aware of the warming metal teasing you.

You stood in front of the mirror, admiring yourself while you waited for Tony to get out of the shower. It was easy to get lost in the memory of the first time you wore this, the way it had glowed in the candlelight. It had all been for Tony, to see him lose himself a little in the opulence of the lingerie. He was so used to the lace and leather and softness, the jewelry surprised him, delighted him, made him lose his mind a little bit.

The door to the bathroom opened, steam pouring out of the room to coat the room in a humid warmth, and revealed nothing. You stared at the reflection, eyes narrowing while you waited for Tony to appear, but he never did. The steam swirled subtly as if caught in a breeze, but no blue glow came from it.

“God, you’re so beautiful.”

Tony sounded like he was right there like he was about to wrap his arms around you and rip the jewelry off of you. It was almost automatic, rolling your eyes at the ceiling to show him your displeasure.

“It would be more beautiful if you were here,” you pouted. Whatever this prank was, it was not funny. Tony just needed to admit he forgot about date night. It happened and you would be okay with that, but this was pushing it.

A hot breath fanned over your neck, making the hairs rise and your breath caught in your throat.

“Tony…”

He hummed, the feeling of stubble right against your cheek now. Your heart started to pound, thundering in your chest as the chains around your hips shifted. The feeling of hands settled there, digging into your skin. When you looked down at your reflection, a gasp caught in your throat at the sight of the tiny indents. Your eyes flicked back up to look over your shoulder where you felt the chin resting.

“Tony,” you started again, a million questions rushing to your tongue, demanding answers.

“Let me show you how sorry I am,” he swayed slightly, pressing his hot, damp chest against your back.

Again, the feeling of Tony- the arc reactor, his skin, his hard cock - caused you to gasp. You watched the chains move, the gold glittering in the dim light. The feeling of his calloused hands sliding across your body, seeing how moldable your flesh was in his expert hands made your head swim more than the wine. Your mind was at war with what it wanted to do, push back into him, to drown in this oddly erotic display, or to turn around and demand answers as to what exactly happened to him.

“Don’t think, baby,” he whispered, “Just let me love on you.”

He pulled you back until you were falling onto the bed, stumbling and nearly missing the bed. Tony’s warm laughter filled your heart, joyous and free and playful. Worry washed away and playfulness took its place. You couldn’t stop laughing when he pulled you fully onto his lap, your body hovering over a dip in the bed. Maybe he was trying to be serious, but now all you could think about was how ridiculous you looked.

“Are we recording this?” You asked between fits of giggles.

“You naughty little-”

He bit your neck, his teeth forming a shallow indent in your skin and making you moan. Tony moved you how he wanted, always surprising you with just how strong he was. That underneath those designer suits, there was a hard-working mechanic. He had both of your legs hooked over his, spreading you open, exposing your soaked pussy. Your reflection looked desperate already, a sight that made you burn, humiliated, and aroused. Looking at yourself shouldn’t be this hot, but you couldn’t stop staring at the slick glistening between your legs.

“Look at you,” Tony kissed along your neck, starting with the bite mark and traveling up to your ear. “Even without all this pretty gold, you shine for me, baby. You can’t hide it even if you want to.”

You squirmed against him as the thrumming in your cunt became too much, the feeling of Tony’s cock twitching against your ass only making you needier, aching to be filled. That ache settled in your belly as you continued to stare at yourself in the mirror. You hoped he would end this torture. He wouldn’t though, the teasing was his favorite part. He could control himself when his focus was on teasing you, but once his cock was inside you, he’d be just as desperate as you were now. You felt for him over your shoulder, finding the back of his head and weaving your fingers through his hair. It looked like nothing in the mirror, but you felt his shiver, the way his lips parts against your ear as he groaned when you pulled at the roots.

“Tony, Daddy, need you to fuck me, please. You said you’d make it up to me.”

“Aw, fuck,” he pressed another kiss into your skin, “You’re not playing fair, baby.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Tony lifted you by the chains, ignoring your hiss of pain and letting his cock slide through your wet folds as he adjusted your position. He let go and moved to his hands to wrap one around your chest, palm resting at the base of your neck, fingers toying with the chain. You felt every shift of the chains, your nipples beginning to ache from the sensation. His other hand grabbed your chin, made you look down at your pussy.

“Don’t look away, watch how good you take my cock baby, watch your pretty pussy swallow Daddy whole.”

Your flesh moved as he did, the tip of his cock bumping your clit before he rocked his hips back far enough to thrust his hips home, your pussy doing exactly what he said it would. Stretched wide open, you could see how your body ached and gushed around Tony. Your pussy fluttered at the sight you saw in the mirror, a whine escaping your lips as you tried to catch your breath.

“Fuck.” You both said, Tony hissing while you gasped at the fullness.

“Damn, baby, look at you,” he shook your chin, “look at your pussy. Fucking coating my dick in your juices.” He pulled out just enough for you to see the outline of his cock, creamy and slick, before plunging back into you.

A deprived and desperate noise fell from your lips, your eyes transfixed at the spot where you were being split open. Without thinking you rolled your hips, impatient now that you could see even a glimpse of Tony inside you. The hand near your throat tugged at the chain, a warning to stop, but you didn’t, couldn’t, not when you looked at your reflection. Your body coated in a sheen of sweat, your mouth hanging open so every pathetic sound you made dripped out. He so easily rendered you stupid, lust drunk and captivated by the sight of your own body.

"Baby, shit," he groaned, releasing your chin to wrap his arm around your waist to hold you still. "Who's in charge here?"

You whimpered, trying to fight the growing need for movement, for friction, for anything to ease the ache in your pussy. "You are, Daddy."

"Then fucking act like it."

"Need you to fuck me, Tony, need it so bad Daddy, please."

"There's my good baby," he cooed, fingers dancing over the gold chains around your hips. "Watch me take you apart, don't look away. Need you to see how beautiful you look on my cock, baby."

You could hear the slap of skin against wet skin, could feel the power of his thighs working with every thrust, but you couldn't see Tony. You couldn't see his flushed cheeks or his brown eyes would go impossibly darker the louder your moans got. There was no getting lost in the blue glow of the reactor in his chest when everything got too close.

All you could do was watch your reflection slip from reality. The person in the mirror a beautiful mess of pleasure that had lost control of their body. Tony's moans and panted breaths washed over you, coated you in molten gold lacquer until you had no choice but to shine for him. It was impossible to look away, even as you blinked away tears of ecstasy, you were lost in your reflection. How he molded and caressed, and possessed your body when you couldn't even see his own.

His hand moved from your waist to your sopping wet cunt, sliding his fingers through your slick and spreading your folds further open for you to see just how he wrecked you. Tony kissed, burned, and soothed your heated skin, distracting you from the fact he wasn't touching you where you needed it most, that final step to jump over the edge of sanity and deep dive into a reality that only knows pleasure.

"Beg me, baby, tell Daddy how fucking turned are you on seeing yourself fucked open and he'll make you cum."

You looked at yourself after tearing your eyes away from your puffy, throbbing pussy. Was this what Tony saw every time? Glassy eyes brimming with tears and shaking thighs that were struggling to stay open? You were a mess of emotions and feelings and while humiliation flared bright again in your belly you couldn't help the tingling arousal that came with it. The way your heart jumped into your throat when you inhaled too fast, forcing you to clench around seeming nothing and feeling more of Tony's cock shaping you.

"Daddy," you whimpered.

"Look at you, baby, goddamn beautiful." he praised, punctuating it with a hard thrust. "You love it don't you? Seeing how fucked out you are just from looking at your pussy being ruined. Don't even really need me here do you?"

You shook your head, you needed Tony. Without Tony, you wouldn't be like this. Only he could make you feel like you were about to split into a million pieces so easily. Only he could make you feel this kind of beautiful and desired. His lips pressed into your neck and shoulder, his hand around your neck tugged at the delicate chain.

"Tony," you gasped, hand scrambling for the invisible one keeping you spread open, trying to get him to touch you. "I need it, need you, fuck please, wanna cum."

As he touched you, your eyes dropped to your pussy again, watching your clit be played with as he fucked into you like it was the last time. Neither of you lasted long, your cunt seizing and gushing over Tony. His cock and balls and thighs were the most visible they've been all night, covered in dribbles of your release. He kept working your clit until he came, ropes of thick cum he was desperate to fuck into and watch leak out at the same time. He groaned, vibrating his whole chest, while he pulled out bringing the mix of your releases with him.

"Holy shit," he moaned.

"You still owe me dinner," you smirked into your reflection, watching your fingers spread and weave through the air to wrap around his own.

"Like I could forget."

[sw1mmingfoolz]

BITE ME : CHAPTER 4 : CHOI SAN

word count: 2k

"Are you sure he's gonna show up?" Your friend asked, setting down the mug he'd been polishing and gesturing around the now empty café. You leaned your elbows on the counter in front of you, your chin following to sit cradled in your warm palms. The steam emanating from your fourth hot drink wafted up and left a thin sheet of moisture on your face, the smell trying to bring comfort to your slightly sinking heart.

"I mean, he said he would," you responded half heartedly. Seungmin shot you a sad smile and went back to cleaning up. There were still around two hours left until closing, but Thursday nights weren't exactly peak hours. Suddenly, Seungmin perked up, turning to face you with a much more gleeful smile.

"Seems he's a man of his word," he grinned, happy he wasn't going to have to beat the older (technically) vampire's ass, and before you could ask what he was talking about the dainty jingle of the bell over the door sounded and the blonde you'd spend so long waiting for all but fell inside. He put his hands on his knees and let out a staggered breath, wiping sweat from his brow and panting. Seungmin rolled his eyes, but you didn't see him.

"Did you run here?" You called from where you sat, smirking when his eyes met yours. He moved to sit next to you, expression apologetic.

"I'm so sorry I kept you waiting, I completely lost track of time!"

"Felix, you coulda just told me you weren't free,"

"I was! At least, I thought I was. Chris needed some help with a choreo for some club he's in, I promise I tried to get out of it," he rambled. You blinked at him slowly, trying to process the fact that he seemed completely fine despite being doubled over mere seconds ago, but waved it off as dancer's stamina and you shrugged your shoulders.

"It's okay, please text next time or something though," you chided lightheartedly, and he smiled gratefully at your forgiveness. "Do you want anything to drink?"

"Oh, no, that's okay," he responded, a tinge of hesitation in his voice. "I'm not a big coffee drinker,"

"They have other drin-"

"So what did you wanna talk about?" You frowned a little at having been cut off, reaching into your bag to produce a notepad and a pen. He snorted as you did, loud laughter breaking the inherent tension created by the rather dark and quiet surroundings.

"What's so funny?"

"Your pen is a t-rex!" he giggled, taking it from you to look at it closer. It was comically large and heavy - something you'd gotten as a gag gift from Ryujin in your stocking last Christmas - but was also the only pen you had on you at the moment. His laughter began to taper off and he smiled at you fondly, passing the dinosaur back to you. "I have to say, you're full of surprises,"

"How else have I surprised you?"

"I mean, you agreed to this whole thing," he remarked, gesturing at the air around you both.

"I mean, my reasons aren't… completely selfless," you admitted. He raised an eyebrow and waited for your explanation, which you sighed lightly before giving. "My ex," you started, unsure of how exactly to explain your situation without getting too personal. You didn't really feel like explaining your past to someone you'd only just met. It almost seemed like he read your mind, a pale hand coming to sit atop your own as it rested next to your by now tepid beverage.

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to," he said softly, smiling at you with more encouragement than you've ever seen. Your heart melted slightly at how gentle he looked. You didn't think you'd ever seen someone so harmless.

"Your hand is really cold," you murmured, causing him to pull it away quickly.

"Sorry," you got the feeling you'd hit a nerve, as his eyes darted away from your face and his hand fell back to join the other one in his lap.

"You don't have to apologize, I just wondered if you were okay. Anyway, my ex is in our year. He's a dance major too; you might know him."

"What's his name?"

"Choi San," you looked down when you said his name as if upon instinct, hands clenched so hard it turned your knuckles white.

"Oh yeah, I know him," Felix responded, curious eyes once again watching you as you crumpled into yourself a little more. "He's a pretty good dancer, guessing the same can't be said of him as a boyfriend,"

"He just kinda. Broke my heart," you laughed pitifully. "I was like, head over heels for him. I mean of course I was, who wouldn't be?" Felix nodded before he realised what he was doing, causing you to scrunch your brow a bit. "I'm not gonna press you on your actual sexuality, but if you're trying to convince everyone you're not gay, maybe don't agree when I imply men are hot," you suggested with a cocky smirk, demeanor changing with your joke. Felix scoffed in response, lightly hitting your arm.

"I can acknowledge men as being attractive and not want to fuck them," he replied pointedly, to which you nodded your agreement.

"Regardless, that's what I get out of this. He destroyed my self esteem and pretty much made me feel like no one could ever love me. I want him to see me happy with someone else and see just how wrong he was," Felix was silent, eyes flickering over your stony face.

"I just want to say," he started after you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, obviously choosing his words carefully. He mulled over them a little more, while you waited patiently and finally took a sip of your drink. You grimaced at the cool temperature and set it back down, the clink of the glass on polished wood harsh in comparison to the tenderness of his voice. "That while I am happy to help you, you will find real love too. You're inherently lovable and deserving of happiness and it's horrible that he tried to make you feel otherwise." You swallowed thickly, biting back the hot tears that started to glaze over your eyes. You hadn't realised you needed to hear that, and it was so unexpected that it threatened to break down the very carefully crafted façade of okayness that you'd spent months building up. You hadn't really processed any of what happened, you just tried to ignore everything to do with the man.

"Thank you," you responded shakily, feeling your heart beating harder against your chest. You smiled weakly before picking up your pen again, wanting to laugh over how ridiculous the whole situation seemed. Seungmin was smiling at you from his position behind the cash register, and you beamed at him in response when you caught it. You weren't sure if he was listening in, but you supposed you didn't really mind either way. "So, we need to set the rules. I think that's how this is usually done,"

"Ah, a fellow fanfiction connoisseur," he said jovially, giving an overexaggerated bow and a tip of his nonexistent hat.

"Not really," you giggled, not even attempting to be convincing. "But this is pretty standard fare."

"We need to be convincing. Hold hands everywhere, walk each other to class, that kinda thing." You scribbled down what he was saying as he said it, a silent agreement with his words.

"I say we go on a date at least once a week," you proposed. "Get some cute photos, upload them to socials, all that stuff,"

"Sounds good. Anything we won't do?" You hummed in thought.

"Not actually falling in love is a pretty common one, but if we were at risk of that we wouldn't be fake dating would we?" You laughed, shaking your head. "I can't think of any, although I think I'd rather not kiss you unless people are super suspicious,"

"What's so bad about kissing me?" he asked in feigned offence, puckering his lips at you dramatically.

"It's just too intimate for a fake relationship!" you clarified, although you knew he was joking. He nodded, and you wrote it down. "I'll visit you in the dance studio whenever I can, since we need to be around San as much as possible."

"Sounds good to me," he again took your hand, movements tentative as he remembered your prior complaint. "Thanks for helping me out like this,"

"You're helping me just as much," you smiled. "Eventually I'll have to introduce you to my friends. I miiiight've already let it slip that this is all fake, so I need them to be in on it as well."

"That's cool, you can meet my friends too," Seungmin shot him a subtle glare that you didn't catch, causing the older boy to flinch. Why on earth would you introduce her to a bunch of people who will wanna feast on her?

Felix frowned. "Hang on a sec, I think I'm gonna get a drink after all," he patted your hand before getting up and walking around the counter to the cash register. You watched the back of Seungmin's head as they talked, wondering what they could possibly be conversing about so animatedly.

"It isn't dangerous, you know they're all controlled. You and Jeongin are around her constantly," he pointed out in a low voice, pointing at the menu as to act like he was really ordering something.

"I just don't like the idea of you bringing her into the dragon's den," Seungmin hissed in response, eyes narrowed, extremely protective.

"We are around humans all the time," Felix rolled his eyes. "How is Yn any different?"

"Look," Seungmin started, shaking his head. "Yn is different, but I'm not sure how yet,"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you already admitted she smells different,"

"Yeah, and? If anything she's easier to resist," Felix chuckled.

"My powers don't work on her," Seungmin mumbled sheepishly, to which Felix's eyes opened.

"What? But mine do, just earlier I-" He stopped mid sentence, remembering that he'd only really needed intuition to know what you were feeling. He strained his ears, shutting his eyes as to focus more specifically on one specific voice, however only Seungmin's disjointed ramblings were audible. "Oh, weird,"

"I'm not the mind reader yet I know exactly what you're thinking-"

"This is JUST like Twilight," Felix grinned, causing the younger vampire to roll his eyes.

"How did I guess?"

"I am just like Edward, powers and all!"

"Okay, sure, but that's just a stupid book. A very stupid, mormon, toxic relationship glorifying, white person book,"

"Your point?"

"My point is that it could be dangerous! Who knows why we have no effect on her!"

"Felix, is everything okay?" You called out, and he realised he was taking too long.

"All good! Just talking about what's good here!"

"Dude, I'm serious. Me and Jeongin have spoken about this before, we've never had anything like this happen."

"Yeah but you're still friends with her and still hang out with her, so surely if she were so dangerous you'd have found out by now." Felix patted Seungmin's shoulder. "It'll be fine, she's probably just a shield."

"THIS ISN'T TWILIGHT!"

"Shh, keep your voice down!"

"Hey, you ready to go?" You didn't even see Felix leave the cash register but before you knew it he was by your side again, offering you the jacket you'd strewn over the back of your chair.

"Weren't you getting a drink?"

"It's almost closing, everything is being put away,"

"We've been here for over an hour??" He grinned at your incredulous expression and slung his arm loosely over your shoulders, pulling you to his side as you waved Seungmin goodbye. Seungmin shot daggers into the other male's back as he led you out the door.

"You don't have to hold me like this yet, no one is around," you said, looking up at him. He kept his eyes fixed on the path as he began walking towards the dorm buildings.

"Just getting some practice in."

synopsis: you're more than familiar with the concept of 'beards' - you've been one for a few of your gay friends to protect them from the suspicious glares of their families within the horribly conservative korean society. however when lee felix - infamous at yonsei for breaking men's hearts - asks you, someone he has spoken to maybe twice, to pretend to date him so he can shake the rumours and prove he really isn't gay, you find yourself caught up in a very complex situation, a mild identity crisis and... wait - are those fangs???

pairing: felix x fem!reader

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taglist: @ni-sh @lilacdreams-00 @rikiflowers @starlighthan @awkwardnesshabitat @wondering-out-loud @yes-i-simp-for-2d-men @rebsmoonn @layrree @moon-gyus @imaginegot7bangtan @ninjaleeknow @a-lil-bit-nuts @miamoonroom @veno-mous

a/n: whelp! you thought i'd go a whole smau without injecting some of my own trauma? mwhahahaha 🤡 my abusive ex had a habit of telling me i was lucky he put up with me cuz no one else ever would, and who am i to write a scenario with no past toxicity to heal from as a form of therapy for myself lmao :') also sorry san, i love u, this is ur evil namesake actually 😔 feedback is always extremely appreciated as i am still slightly insecure about my writing uwu, now onto the next chapter!

[snackhobi]

pairing: taehyung x reader / word count: 13.3k / genre: fluff, friends to lovers, smut (NSFW, 18+)

summary: you’re used to being in love with taehyung. you’ve had a lot of time to get good at it, after all—by this point you’re the world’s expert at keeping your less-than-platonic feelings hidden from him, what with the amount of practice you’ve had.

but then he signs up for a massage therapy course, because apparently you can never catch a break.

or: the one where taehyung gives you a full body massage and then some.

warnings: sexually explicit content, massage with a happy ending (literally 🤧), cursing, edible massage oil/lube, fingering (f), unprotected sex (be safe when you have sex please), multiple orgasms (f), oral sex (m), cum swallowing, pet names, body worship?, brief mention of shower sex

a/n: I swear this was meant to be pwp. this was literally meant to just be pwp with some massage shenanigans. and then I blinked and it had become a soft 13k fic which honestly… kicked my ass quite a bit. but I hope you enjoy it!! thank you as always to @hobi-gif​ for beta reading this and encouraging me and putting up with me changing this multiple times, what would I do without your support miss hope?

--

Taehyung goes through a lot of different phases.

He just finds so many things interesting. Photography, art, art history, music, fashion, thrift shopping; heck, there was even the time he got weirdly into making tea and became some sort of connoisseur, going through the whole rigmarole of buying the loose leaves and weighing them out, checking the temperature of the water, brewing for a precisely measured amount of time.

You still remember the look on his face when you said it all tasted like hot leaf water to you.

Because, of course, as one of Taehyung’s best friends and his roommate, you’re inevitably swept up in everything he does. You’re used to the weirdly acrid smell of photo development fluid and how cold dark rooms can get. You use phrases like chiaroscuro and sfumato to describe the simplest things after listening to Taehyung do the same for so long. You’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve tripped over his saxophone case when he leaves it lying around the apartment. You regularly wear the baggy t-shirt with the face that Taehyung had painted on it—even if you still refer to it as the Squidward-House-Shirt despite the fact you know he was inspired by Basquiet and Schiele and not the Easter Island themed stone head that Squidward lives in.

You don’t mind getting dragged along with whatever he does, honestly; you don’t have time to attend every class, but go with him when you can. It’s always good to expand your horizons. You also love watching Tae’s face whenever he learns something new, the various expressions that flit across his features—from wide eyed excitement and eyebrow raising astonishment to the more solemn side that appears whenever he’s taking something in and thinking deeply about it, turning it over in his mind, mulling on it.

(You love watching Tae’s face all the time, actually, but that’s a whole other can of worms you’d rather keep shut.)

However, the latest course he’s signed up for is not one you’d been expecting.

“Massage therapy?” Your face twists in equal parts confusion and surprise.

Taehyung’s dropped this latest nugget of information while you’re cooking, trying to fry some rice while also peering at the phone screen that’s been thrust into your face. You’re not bad at multitasking, per se, but Taehyung’s iPhone is drifting so close that you’re almost cross-eyed and it’s blocking you from seeing what’s going on in the pan. 

“I had a coupon,” he says, as if that explains everything. (It doesn’t.)

“Scooch,” you say, and he immediately moves so you can turn the gas off.

“Jiminie and Jungkookie say that my massages help with dance, and that's just from Youtube tutorials.” Taehyung continues to talk as you bustle around the tiny kitchen. He’s already set the table so now he’s free to watch you finish doing the rest of the work. “And Joon-hyung says I have the perfect hands for it.”

You fumble with the pan as you’re scooping the steaming rice into a large bowl, only just managing to save food from scattering everywhere. You’ve thought about Taehyung’s hands a lot, about how large and long fingered and beautiful they are, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Really? Huh. That’s nice.” You stare at the pan, fixated on getting every grain of rice so you can avoid looking at Taehyung’s face. And hands. Which are still cupped around his phone. Which looks so small in his big, pretty grip.

Jesus Christ.

“It means I can give you massages if you ever start to get tense.” Taehyung sounds pleased, lovely grin on his face at the prospect of being able to rub his hands over you. As if that isn’t going to make every single one of your muscles lock up and turn you into some sort of coiled rope of a human being, which is the complete opposite of what a massage is supposed to achieve. 

“Great.” Despite your inner turmoil, your voice is level and steady as you meticulously scrape the last grain of rice into the bowl, chasing the tiny fleck of white around the huge pan. Scrape, scrape, scrape. “Sounds fabulous. Can’t wait.”

Of course Taehyung would sign up to learn something that he could use to help his friends. He’s so big-hearted and loving. Big-hearted and loving and kind and funny and affectionate and beautiful and deep-voiced and so entirely overwhelming in every single way imaginable. 

You do what you always do when confronted yet again with your all-consuming crush—you bottle that shit the fuck up until he’s not in the room.

And then you have a miniature breakdown at Pickles.

“I am going to die,” you whisper-scream. “He’s going to offer to massage me and he’s going to get a bottle of massage oil out and he’s going drizzle it onto his massive hands and I am going to fucking die.”

The bearded dragon cocks his head as he stares at you. Taehyung had come home with the reptile one day, tank and all, saying that someone on Facebook had been giving him away because they were moving house and could they just look after him for a little while, please, pretty please? Until they found a good home for him? Please?

That was over a year ago. (You’ve always been bad at saying no to Taehyung.)

“I hate my life,” you lament to the lizard, but then you hear the noisy flush of the toilet and know that Taehyung is going to emerge from the bathroom soon, so you have to wrap this miniature meltdown up pronto. “I wish I was a bearded dragon too, you know. All you do is get fed and sit under the heat bulb. Your life is so easy. You don’t even know what capitalism is.”

The silence you get from Pickles is far more support than you get from your human friends once you tell them. Yoongi just raises his eyebrows while Seokjin and Hoseok laugh outright in your face, just like they always do when you cry to them about Taehyung.

You need new friends. These ones are defective. (If only you’d kept the receipt so you could return them.)

“We learned how to do neck and shoulder massages today!” Taehyung says brightly after the first session.

You hum in response. You’re rewatching Pacific Rim together, cuddled up against Taehyung’s side, and you don’t have to turn your head to know what expression is on his face. There’ll be that little upturn to his lips, happiness at learning something new. That warmth in his eyes at being able to share it with you, even if you couldn't be there with him. Those little freckles on his face, under his eye, his nose, his lip; the one you’ve imagined kissing more times than you can count.

“My teacher says I have a natural talent with my hands,” he adds, and you’re so grateful that you can blame your sudden intake of breath on the scene that’s playing on the screen, as high stakes as it is. 

“That’s nice,” you say, and mentally pat yourself on the back at keeping the strain out of your voice. You've had a lot of practice at this. “I’m not surprised, though. You’ve always been good at doing things with them.”

That’s not a euphemism. Taehyung’s always so careful when he makes things; you’d learned how to fold different origami patterns together, matching crane for crane, lotus for lotus, and he’d always been so delicate with his fingers. He’s always so careful and considerate with you, too, fingers splayed wide across your shoulder as he squeezes you closer to his side, leaving you breathless.

“I wish you could come too.” Taehyung sounds disappointed. “We always have so much fun together.”

For the first time in your life you’re grateful that your manager at Olive Chicken is such a hardass and won’t let you swap shifts, so you’d had to miss signing up for the massage course with Taehyung—because you know there’s no way you’d be able to keep it together if there was some sort of tandem practice in class or whatever. Your crush on him is filled with equal parts of tenderness and lust and you’re well aware of that. You’d rest your hands on the soft skin of Taehyung’s shoulders and back, the lust would overwhelm you, and you’d immediately burst into flames like some sort of demon stepping over the threshold of a church. 

Why oh why did God have to make Kim Taehyung so hot?

Why oh why did God have to make you so… not?

You know Taehyung doesn’t see you in a romantic light at all. You’re grateful for this deep, platonic relationship you have, and you love him to pieces, but holy hell is it hard to walk around with Kim Taehyung looking the way he does and wanting to jump his bones while simultaneously being aware that it’s never going to happen. Whenever he smiles at you, or touches you, or holds you, it’s in exactly the same way as he treats any of his friends—and as happy as you are to be one of those friends, it also kind of kills you inside. 

(Because you know you don’t have a chance, have never had a chance, and will never have a chance.)

The idea of offering to massage Taehyung is one that makes you want to melt into a puddle of horny goo. But when he offers to massage you, it’s because you’re a convenient practice partner who he’s comfortable with. It’s no big deal. You could strip naked and slather yourself up in oil and stand in front of him with your bosoms heaving and say ‘Have at me, big boy’ and Taehyung would say: ‘Sweet! A chance to practice deep tissue massage! Gee, thanks for being such a great pal!’

The kind of deep tissue you want Taehyung to massage is very different to whatever he’s talking about.

… Anyway.

You manage to avoid Taehyung using his apparently magic fingers on you for a surprising amount of time, though you’re kept up to date with his progress, because he shares everything with you and tells you about everything and you always, always listen. Because, more than being your crush, he’s one of your best friends and you love him.

Which is why you try your best to be gentle, graciously refusing his offer of a shoulder massage after he sees you wincing, even if with anyone else you’d just tell them to back off with zero hesitation.

“It’s fine,” you say, flapping a hand at him. “I just slept on it funny.”

“A massage would help! It won’t take long, I promise. Five minutes? Please?” 

Taehyung’s looking at you with those big puppy eyes of his, pleading. You waver. You’re torn between being steadfast and avoiding a situation you’ve literally had nightmares about (Taehyung had offered to massage you, and you’d said yes, but then you’d fallen over as you were walking to him and suddenly a lasagne had appeared in your hands and you’d spilled it all down your shirt and he’d pointed and laughed and laughed and you’d felt so embarrassed that you’d woken up, cheeks burning), but then he pouts and you give in like the spineless and lovesick fool that you are.

“Five minutes,” you say, and Taehyung nods emphatically, looking pleased.

(You have the backbone of a chocolate éclair.)

You send quiet thanks to whatever God is listening when he doesn’t ask you to take your top off and doesn’t break out a bottle of scented oil. Instead he just asks for you to straddle a chair, clutching a plushie against your chest to cushion where it leans against the backrest, and tells you to get comfy.

“Just relax,” he says, as you desperately try to remember how your body works and coax it to relax like Taehyung wants you to. You fail miserably. You feel like a ball of rubber bands, each muscle a layer of tighter and tighter elastic that’s circled around you. “Lean forwards a little?”

At least Taehyung can’t see your face from this angle. You have no idea what sort of expression is twisting your features; consternation and horrified anticipation, probably. You're basically throttling your plushie, taking out your tension and frustration on the poor thing, Rilakkuma's placid face morphing into a twisted expression of sympathy under your grasping fingers.

“Perfect,” Taehyung says. The sound of praise in his deep voice has your insides turning into overheated syrup, hot and thick, dripping down and pooling between your legs. You hate yourself. Getting turned on by the most innocuous words from your best friend, really? Get it together.

The second you feel Taehyung's warm hands touch the back of your neck, your shoulders hunch up faster than a whiplash, a turtle sucking its head into its shell. Your friend laughs.

“This is the opposite of relaxing,” he says, voice warm with amusement. 

“You surprised me.” You dig your nails into Rilakkuma's soft brown fur. Taehyung just thinks you're not used to being massaged, not that you're being weird because it's him that's touching you. Because he touches you a lot. He’s just never done it like this. “Sorry.”

“It's fine,” he replies, unruffled and oblivious. “Let me try again?”

You bite your lip, desperately trying to quell the mix of arousal and tension that’s churning in your stomach, begging your muscles to unwind. You’ve kept your crush a secret from him for this long, you can keep that energy up. (You have to keep that energy up.) “Um. Okay.”

You’re still tense when Taehyung puts his hands on you again. The touch is warm through your clothes, firm but careful, digging into the sharp line of tension laid across your shoulders; despite the way your heart is threatening to launch itself out of your chest, you start to loosen up, because holy shit that feels nice, actually.

You melt against Rilakkuma and smother the bear's face in your chest. “Your teacher wasn’t kidding when they said that you’re good with your hands,” you mumble. 

You’ve never gotten a proper massage before but it feels so damn good that you can’t help but unwind, turning to jelly at the confident presses of Taehyung’s fingers and palms into the soft skin between your neck and shoulder. A little sigh spills past your lips when Taehyung starts to work at the part that’s been twinging after you lay crookedly on it, limbs akimbo in your sleep after a long night at work. “Oh, right there, Tae.”

Taehyung goes still for just a second before continuing, trailing his fingers over your shirt. “Here?”

Your eyes have drifted shut so you can focus on the sensation of that tension being pulled out of your body. “Yeah, right there,” you repeat, massaged into a state of lazy euphoria. The breath you let out is long and deep, catching in the back of your throat at a particularly firm rub of Taehyung’s hands; if you weren’t so blissed out you might be embarrassed at how much the noise you make is like a moan, but as it is, you don’t even notice. You just let out a little sound of discontent when Taehyung’s fingers stutter in their motions, displeased that he’s stopped even for a second.

By the time the massage is over, you’re so relaxed that you feel like you could melt into the floor, a wobbly puddle of unwound muscles and loose limbs. It’s official. You’re a massage convert.

“Holy shit.” Your eyes flutter open as you lean away from Rilakkuma so you can turn around. They’re the first coherent words you’ve spoken for a while; small sighs and sounds have been dripping from your lips and it’s only now that you’re able to regain your breath. “Tae, that was amazin—”

You’re met with the sight of Taehyung’s back as he power walks away, steps rapid, a little shaky, awkward. Before you can ask what’s wrong, he’s stepping into the bathroom. 

“I need to wash my hands,” he says without looking at you, before the door slams shut.

You don’t remember Tae telling you about how quickly you have to wash your hands after finishing a massage. But, thinking about it, you suppose it makes sense—you know, with massaging multiple clients or whatever—even if it’s surprising exactly how fast he’d hoofed it away from you. It sounds like he’s switched both taps on full blast as well, noisy even through the wooden door, and judging from how long he’s in there, he’s being very thorough. Hand washing must be a lot more important than you’d realised. 

Once Taehyung emerges, his face is a little flushed, cheeks a soft red. You wonder if the hot water tap is playing up again and filling your dinky bathroom with hot steam, and make a mental note to look into it. You smile at Taehyung from your perch on the sofa, Rilakkuma plopped on your lap, smile spread across your features; one that Taehyung returns, as pink-faced as he is.

“How’s your shoulder feeling?”

“So much better, honestly,” you admit. It’s incredible. He hasn’t even finished the course yet and he's already this good. He really does have magic hands.

“I’ll have to give you massages more often,” Taehyung says, though the end of the sentence trembles a little. He must be light-headed after all the steam in the bathroom.

The thought of more massages doesn’t fill you with as much mind-numbing trepidation as it might have earlier, utterly languid as you flop across the sofa, muscles uncoiled after the lovely touch of Taehyung’s even lovelier hands. No wonder people rave about spa days if they leave you feeling like this. Maybe if you’d been staring at Taehyung in the eye when he’d been touching you, then you’d feel a lot more awkward—as it is, it’s no worse than usual. Your crush is still all-encompassing but you also got a massage out of it, so.

“Sounds great.” This time you don’t even have to fake your excitement. “Now come sit your butt down so we can order some takeout and decide what to watch.”

When you bend down to speak to Pickles later, the bearded dragon is lolling on his favourite branch. “There’s still a high chance that I’m going to die,” you say in a low voice, before you flick the lights off so the lizard can sleep. “But he hasn’t broken out the oils yet, so I think I’ll be okay for now.”

--

Your luck doesn’t last.

“Strawberry and champagne, lychee martini, mint mojito, white chocolate, or tropical coconut?”

You look up from where you’re painting your toenails. “Huh?”

Taehyung bundles into the room and throws himself onto your bed, flopping on his belly and ignoring the way the mattress is jostled. You, of course, are used to his antics, which is why you’d swept your open bottle of nail polish up before he could spill it everywhere.

“What do you think sounds best?”

“Well, that depends,” you say, squinting at your toes and carefully sweeping the polish over the freshly buffed nails. “For candles, I think they sound pretty nice. For sauces to pour over a steak, I’d say I’d give them all a hard pass. What’s it for?”

“Massage oils,” Taehyung says blithely, too busy staring at his phone to see you muffle a curse when your hand slips and you paint your entire little toe blue. “I was wondering which you think sounds best.”

“Oh. Uh.” You fumble to clean your toe and salvage the now-terrible pedicure you’re trying to give yourself. It was only a matter of time before massage oils were going to become part of your life. Taehyung never goes into things half-hearted, so of course he’s going to invest in oils, too. God’s sake. You can never catch a break, can you? “Why these ones in particular?”

Taehyung pauses for a suspiciously long time, but it gives you the chance to furiously rub at your toe while he’s distracted. “We get a free bottle from the course,” he says eventually.

Huh. Okay. “That’s pretty neat. What was the last one? Coconut? Stick with the basics, can’t go wrong with that, right?”

“Coconut is always tasty,” Taehyung comments absently, and you glance up from your Smurf toe.

“Agreed, but it’s not like you’re about to eat massage oil, are you?”

Taehyung pauses, and then buries his face into his phone screen—suddenly very intent on rereading the list of ingredients in each bottle, it seems. “No, of course not, you’re right,” he mumbles.

He’s almost finished the course. He’s not going to be an accredited masseuse or anything, but you definitely think he could be, if he wanted to—you’ve never had less tension in your shoulders and neck in your life. Taehyung always eases his way into your personal space anyway, casual and effortless after years of friendship, but now you’re used to his fingers sliding over the back of your neck, a gliding touch, sending tense little goosebumps over your skin while simultaneously making you melt. 

“It’s pretty cool that you get free stuff, though.” Your toe is clean, thankfully, no longer blue. “And not just, like, a generic bottle of oil or something. They all sound really fancy. I didn’t realise that you could get massage oils that were scented like that?”

Taehyung makes a non-committal noise, which is uncharacteristic of him, but you’re too focused on repainting your final nail to pay it too much mind, letting out a loud huff of triumph when you’re done.

“Get me a bag of shrimp crackers, please?” You have a sudden craving but you don’t want to penguin waddle to the kitchen and risk getting anything on your wet nails. “Ya girl is hungry.”

“Got it.” Taehyung rolls off the bed without protest. You’re used to his antics, and he’s used to yours, indulging you whenever you feel lazy or want him to do something for you. “You need me to feed you?”

“I wasn’t going to use my toes to feed myself,” you laugh, but Taehyung ends up feeding them to you anyway.

When you recount the list to Seokjin later, his face crumples in a way that’s equal parts offended and disgusted. “They all sound terrible,” he says. “White chocolate should stay in chocolate form and not be turned into an oil. Why does massage oil even have to smell like anything?”

You’re both holed up in the tiny smoking nook behind Olive Chicken; neither of you smoke, but it’s a good excuse to go outside and get fresh air during longer shifts. 

“Hey, don’t ask me, I’m not the one who’s taking the course. I think lychee martini sounds interesting, though.”

“Agree to disagree.” Seokjin unwraps one of the complimentary chocolates the restaurant gives to diners with their bill, swallowing it whole. “Besides, we all know Taehyung could approach you with dirty, used fryer oil and you’d let him dip you in it.”

You slap the next chocolate out of his hand before it reaches his mouth. He’s unmoved and simply plucks another from his pocket, which is apparently bulging with them.

“Yoongichi,” Jin says, calling to the delivery boy, who’s just appeared from the dark like some tired-eyed spectre of fried chicken. “Tell me this. If I were to ask you what smell of massage oil you’d prefer, what—”

“I would say that I really could not care less.” Yoongi flops down on one of the rickety fold-out chairs before silently accepting a chocolate from Seokjin’s stash. “And then I’d ask why you’re asking me in the first place, seeing as you’re the one using it, not me. If Taehyung’s asking what massage oil you’d prefer, Y/n, it’s because he wants to rub it all over you specifically.” Yoongi munches on the chocolate, already filling in the blanks without needing to be told the context. You really are that transparent, huh. “Please, we’ve been over this.”

Jin pouts. “You ruined my set up. I had a whole speech prepared.”

“Oh no.” Yoongi remains blank-faced. “How terrible.”

“I hate both of you,” you say. “I’m going to tell Pickles how mean you are.”

“I bet if that lizard could talk, he’d tell you how tired he was of you two dancing around each other, just like the rest of us,” Yoongi says.

There’s no dancing around, though, no matter what your friends say. Well. Not on Taehyung’s end anyway. You’re out here doing the fandango, castanets and all, while Taehyung just stands stock still, oblivious.

You let out an incredibly long sigh. Seokjin hands you a sympathetic chocolate.

The massage oil doesn’t make an appearance in your life for a little while, though. The end of the course comes and goes, Taehyung proudly flapping the laminated certificate at you, wobble-wobble-wobble, filling the apartment with the sound of rippling plastic. But no coconut oil.

The scent of ‘tropical coconut’ has started to haunt your dreams, in a way that’s both good and bad; when you wake up in a sweat, heart pounding, it’s not because you’re having nightmares, let’s just put it like that. It’s like there’s an invisible countdown that you can’t trace and it’s only a matter of time before it ticks over and the shoulder massages (that you’ve gotten very comfortable with) edge into something different. Taehyung’s going to innocently offer to give you a backrub and uncap that bottle of scented oil and you’re going to explode into a mess of putty under his hands.

Well… then again… you had been worried about that with all the shoulder rubs. Now look at you. You weather those like a champ. Sure, your skin tingles and you run hot and you think about the sensation of Taehyung’s hands gliding over you whenever you’re alone, but you’re basically fine. Your friend who just so happens to also be the great love of your life remains none the wiser.

You bet a full back rub would feel great after a long week.

Which is why when Taehyung steps into the apartment with a look on his face that you immediately recognise as tiredness, you sort of wish you knew how to massage people, too.

He falls into your arms with little fanfare. It’s been one of those days, one of those ones that everyone gets, even Taehyung—he’s usually so Switched On and Exuberant and Alive, and people don’t seem to realise that even he feels exhausted, sometimes.

“You alright, bubs?” You can’t massage him but you can rub his back soothingly, let him snuffle against your neck. Sometimes you think about that little space between your chin and collarbones as Taehyung’s, a hollow that’s perfect for him to press his face into, hair tickling your chin as he curls up into you. His and his alone. “Did something happen?”

He just shakes his head.

“Okay,” you say.

(Close proximity and skin on skin with Taehyung doesn’t always have your pulse rising and your heart racing. Sometimes it’s just this: quiet and soft, your heart bright with fierce affection for this boy, the only thought in your mind that you want him to be happy, forever.)

The long silence is broken by the sound of Taehyung heaving in a breath before letting out a long, exhausted sigh. 

“Thank you.” His voice is quiet and low, far less energetic than his usual self.

“Nothing to thank me for, Tae,” you reply. “Always here for you. You know that, right?”

He doesn’t respond straight away. He just burrows closer, draped over you, until he murmurs, barely audible. “Why?”

Your face twists. “Why, what? Why am I always here for you?”

“Yeah.” Taehyung squeezes himself impossibly closer, skin warm against yours, forehead pressed to the skin of your neck. You can’t see his expression from this angle.

“Because you’re one of my best friends and I love you,” you answer, immediately. You don’t even have to think about it. “Because you’re important to me and if there’s anything I can do for you, I will. I’ll celebrate the good things in your life with you, and I’ll be at your side during the bad times, just like you are with me. Please don’t ever forget how much I love you, okay?”

There’s a pause, and then it feels like all the tension leaves Taehyung’s body, slumping his whole body weight against you. “Okay,” he murmurs. “I love you too. Thank you,” he says again. You just reply by squeezing his shoulders.

He’s a little quieter for a few days after that. You’re not sure why, because he’d perked up after a lazy evening of lying around and eating too many snacks, flopped against you like an oversized, clinging starfish—but you’re gentle with him nonetheless. 

(Well. You’re always gentle with him. It just takes you half a second to fold in the face of his whims, rather than a whole, full second.)

So when the dreaded bottle of oil finally appears, you’re far less ready to fight off Taehyung’s insistence on a full body massage, caught off guard after days of indulging him. Fuck. 

“You’ve had a long week!” Taehyung insists as you scrabble your way over the sofa’s backrest so you can hide behind it, clutching a cushion to your chest. “You need to relax!”

Without looking you fling the cushion over the sofa. Judging from the fact that Taehyung doesn’t make a sound, you’ve missed. “I was feeling perfectly relaxed until you started yelling at me about it! Why are you so obsessed with the idea of me being relaxed?”

Taehyung doesn’t respond. Oh, crap. Maybe you did hit him with the cushion?

You pop up from behind the sofa. Nope. It's an embarrassing distance away from Taehyung, who’s got that surprisingly large bottle of oil held loosely in his hands. There’s an expression on his face that you can’t decipher; a little crestfallen, a little unsure, but there’s something else there, too, something you can’t put a name to.

“Taehyung?”

“I just… wanted to help,” he says. “You’re always there for me when I’m not feeling great, and you calm me down, and I wanted to do the same for you.”

You immediately feel like the worst human being alive. Take the feeling you get whenever you accidentally step on an animal’s tail, multiply it by infinity, and that’s only just a drop in the ocean of awful, awful guilt that you’re drowning in. 

“Oh, Tae,” you say. Your voice comes out so much softer and sweeter than you mean it to, but you can't help it. “I’m sorry. I was just joking. It’s really nice of you to be so concerned. You just surprised me. You do help me relax and your massages are great.” (You tell him that often enough that he should know it, but it never hurts to repeat a compliment.)

His face lifts. It’s like the sun bursting forth from the clouds after heavy rain, and you have to resist the urge to shield your eyes, blinded by the brightness and beauty. Kim Taehyung is so unfairly gorgeous (but what else is new?). “So I can give you a massage?”

Despite the fact the prospect makes you want to fling yourself into space, when you’re faced with Taehyung’s dark eyes and wide smile and large, warm hands, you cave, because of course you do. If, way back when you’d first been frying up that kimchi rice and letting Taehyung thrust his phone into your face, you’d been told you’d end up in this position, you would have laughed outright. Haha, yeah, sure, like you’d be stupid enough to let yourself be wrangled into such a vulnerable state in front of Taehyung, nowhere to run, helpless under his fingers. Not.

But here you are. Whipped for Kim Taehyung, forever and always.

The pastel blue towels under your stomach and chest are soft as they shield you from the cold, hard floor. You’re incredibly aware of how chilly the apartment feels, air prickling against your bare skin; you shift to try and get comfortable, glancing over your shoulder to fiddle with the towel that’s draped over your hips and ass, making sure it’s covering everything. Taehyung insists on authenticity (as if you’re not lying on the floor of your apartment rather than on a massage table) and he says that it’s normal to be completely naked for a full-body massage, even underneath any towels that are covering you up.

Authenticity is also why he’s in the other room, warming up the massage oil, because that’s apparently a thing?

(You’re going to die.)

It doesn’t matter that Taehyung will only be able to see the back of your head, your shoulder blades, the small of your back, a slip of your thighs, your calves. None of these things are especially scandalous; all the parts of your body that someone might find more interesting are out of sight, pressed against the floor or hidden under a layer of Egyptian cotton microfibres. 

And yet you can’t help but be hyperaware of how you’re entirely unclothed. Even if it doesn’t bother Taehyung—what with, you know, the fact he’s not interested in you like that and doesn’t find you attractive at all (sigh)—embarrassment creeps hot and uncomfortable under your skin.

It just feels so crazy intimate to be laid out like this, even if people do this all the time, happily strip down to let professionals rub the tension out of their body. 

(Then again, most people aren’t best friends with their masseuses and haven’t harboured long, one-sided crushes on them, either.)

Just breathe. You can do this. You love the shoulder massages that Taehyung’s been giving you; just think of this as a shoulder massage. 

… A shoulder massage that involves warm oil, near-nakedness, and Taehyung’s hands sliding all over you.

… You are going to have a very long venting session with Pickles after all this.

You’re so distracted by your own self pity and distress that you don’t register the sound of Taehyung entering the room; the little pause when he steps over the threshold, feet stuttering, just for a moment. It’s only when he’s kneeling down that you notice his presence, body jolting from surprise before you let out a slip of high laughter.

“Jesus, Tae,” you say. In any other circumstance, you’d be clutching your chest. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.” He sounds genuinely apologetic.

Your cheek is pillowed on your arms. When you turn to look at your best friend you immediately regret it; he’s settled back on his ankles, knees spread wide, and you come eye-to-eye with his crotch.

In an effort to look away from his clothed dick, your gaze flies up to his face, which might be even worse. He has this intense look in his eyes, and wow, alright, you’ve never been able to see Taehyung’s face as he’s been massaging you, but you never realised exactly how seriously he seems to take it, judging from his expression.

(Do all massage therapists look like that when they work?)

“That’s alright.” You’re a little breathless, but you’re going to blame that on how your boobs are smooshed into the floor, and not on anything else, nuh uh. Shoulder massage. It’s a shoulder massage. It’s just like a full bodied shoulder massage. (Maybe if you repeat it to yourself often enough then you’ll actually start to believe it.) “Uh. Do you need me to… do anything? Or do I just lie here?”

Taehyung’s expression lightens a little at the uncertainty in your tone, smile curling up the corners of his mouth. “You’re perfect right where you are,” he says, and then he reaches for the bottle of oil.

You turn your head away again, cheeks burning. There’s no way you’ll be able to handle the visual of him slicking his fingers and palms up. “Cool,” you say, voice only a little strained. “Coolcoolcoolcool.”

(It’s not cool.)

You don’t have a visual, but you do get the auditory experience thanks to the relative silence in the apartment. Goosebumps ripple down the back of your neck and trail down your spine at the sound of Tae’s hands sliding against each other, thoroughly coated in the warmed oil, and you’re so glad that you can blame it on the chill in the air.

At first, it’s okay. Taehyung starts at the parts of your body that are used to receiving his attention, though it’s different without the barrier of clothing in the way, not to mention how easily his palms glide over you, the air full of the light scent of coconut. It’s different, but manageable, and you think you just might be okay; as always, his touches are firm but careful, and your body is used to this by now, relaxing.

But. The second you feel Taehyung’s touch between your shoulder blades, you stiffen with a shiver. The oil is the perfect temperature against your skin, but you’ve always had a sensitive back; you can’t help but clench your fists, digging your fingers into your palms. Relax. Just breathe. 

“You’ve got a lot of tension here.” Taehyung’s voice is low as he digs the heel of his palm into the dip of your spine.

It’s because you’re touching me there, you think to yourself, but just let out a non-committal hum of agreement instead. 

You feel Taehyung's hands, a repeated sliding motion between your shoulder blades; the tension starts to leak out of you again, but your breath hitches in your throat at how you're pressed downwards and into the cotton towels beneath you, nipples hardening against them.

Thank God you're on your front so Tae can't see what effect he's having on you.

“Better?”

Taehyung's voice is always deep, but you'd swear it was even deeper in this moment, pitched low. Maybe that’s because the sound of blood pumping is filling your ears so it’s hard to discern. At this point, who even knows? Not you, that’s for sure.

“Yep.” Why are you so breathless? You haven’t moved at all, but you sound like you’ve just run the 100m sprint, winded and weak. “So much better.”

You regret agreeing to this. You are so out of your depth and there’s no way you’re going to be able to hide exactly how much this is affecting you and you want to collapse in on yourself and shrivel up like a sundried tomato, tiny and wrinkly and underwhelming. 

Taehyung shifts to reach more of you and you squeeze your eyes shut so you don’t come face first with his crotch again, shielding yourself from the view of his loose linen trousers stretched almost taut with how wide his knees are. It’s both a blessing and a curse—a blessing because you’re saved from aforementioned view, but a curse because your sensation of touch is heightened, and all you’re aware of is his hands sliding down your sides. You’d swear those fingers were so long he could circle your waist with ease.

(Massages are meant to relax you and yet you’ve never felt so tense in your life.)

Taehyung clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth. “I can’t get a good angle like this,” he mutters.

Before you can think anything or say anything, you become aware of the sound of moving and shifting and—

Your eyes fly open. Taehyung’s straddling your thighs, heavy and warm, and you suck in a breath so sharp and fast you can feel your chest expand, brain full of the screaming clang of warning bells. There’s no way this is a normal masseuse thing. There’s no way. It’s intimate and entirely too physical and there’s absolutely no way that this is something Taehyung learned in class. 

(What is he doing?)

But then any coherent thought in your brain slips when his hands settle on you again.

They so, so lightly brush the hem of the towel that preserves your modesty, and you can’t help the full-body shiver that wracks through you. You suck your lips into your mouth, swallowing down the noise that threatens to bubble up in your throat. There’s the sensation of fingers trailing up the line of your spine, feather light, smoothed by the slide of oil, and you feel like molten lava, burning hot and bright.

“Taehyung.” Your voice is high and faint.

His fingers splay down your ribcage and run down your sides, confident and smooth, warm with that coconut-scented oil, and you’re dying, you’re living; you want to disappear, you never want this to end. 

“Taehyung,” you repeat. Your voice shakes.

He hums, low and indulgent. “Yes?”

“M-my thighs,” you stammer, unable to articulate yourself. Why are you on my thighs, oh God, you’re so warm and heavy on top of me, oh God oh God oh God.

Taehyung completely misunderstands you. “Oh? Of course.” He sounds nonchalant. “I’ll massage those next.”

You can feel the drag of his linen trousers against your skin as he moves down to rest on your calves, and hear the bottle open as Taehyung drizzles more oil over his hands, far more than he could possibly need. His palms feel so broad and warm against the smoothness of your thighs, touches firm and confident as he digs his fingers into the muscle, and, oh, fuck, this is, this is too much—

Your legs jump when Taehyung hitches the towel up, just a little, baring more of your body.

“Fuck.” You can't keep quiet any longer. “Tae, I’m fine, I’m feeling way less tense now.”

He’s still, for a moment, before his hands slide up the back of your thighs. “Are you sure? You want me to stop?”

It’s only then that you realise how deeply Taehyung is breathing, fast and low, voice rough and gravelled. His fingers rest in wait, warm and slick with oil; you’re so close to losing any modicum of modesty, only one motion away from that towel being rucked high enough that there’s nothing protecting you from Taehyung’s touch and eyes.

“I haven’t finished yet, though,” he continues, digging his thumbs into your skin as he pulls his hands down your thighs, mindlessly following the motions he’s been taught. “There’s still more to go.”

You could twist around to look at him but you’re almost afraid to look at his face, afraid of what you’d find there. He sounds as affected as you are, but there’s absolutely no way. There’s no way.

“You don’t need to do the whole massage if I’m feeling relaxed, right?” 

(Because you’re feeling so relaxed right now, of course, and not like you’re about to go supernova and burst into heat and light. Absolutely.)

(But.)

(But. Taehyung’s hands settle at the back of your knees, swiping the sensitive skin with his thumbs. You can’t see his face, but you can feel something in that touch, something more than skin deep, like it’s sinking into you, through skin and muscle and bone, in in in, settling inside you, a flicker of—of—)

“Want to do this perfectly for you,” he murmurs. You clench your hands at the husky note in his voice, nails digging so hard into your palms it hurts. “You deserve the best. I want you to feel good.”

He must be able to see your back rise and fall as you breathe in sharply.

“Taehyung.” Almost pleading. 

“Yes, love?”

You suck in another sharp breath. The pet name sounds so soft and sweet in his mouth, somehow, even with the heated edge to his voice. One that’s definitely there. You’re not imagining it. 

(You’re not.)

“Do you want me to make you feel good?” he continues.

Before you can think, you nod.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Please.”

You’re trembling. Taehyung’s still heavy and warm across the back of your calves, sliding one hand to the inside of a knee and up the soft skin of your inner thighs. You instinctively shift them apart, as far as you can with Taehyung trapping your legs, and, oh, his hand is going higher, oh—

His hand is so big, cupping your overheated sex. It’s hard to tell where the oil ends and your own arousal begins, flushed wet and hot; when he dips his middle finger between your lower lips, long and gentle and firm, you let out a noise you didn’t realise you were capable of. The angle is off, a little awkward, the motions of Taehyung’s fingers stifled by how you’re lying flush to the ground, but God, you’re so turned on it barely matters.

You’re hyperaware of everything. The soft touch of air on the cooling oil across your skin. The fall of the towel, bunched around your waist, slowly slipping to one side. Taehyung’s hand, his fingertips easing through the heat of you, sliding over your clit, over your entrance, slow and soft and amazing. 

“Again,” you plead. “Again, Tae, please.”

“Feels good?” He asks, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you nod, cheek still pillowed against your arm.

“So good,” you say. “But I want more, please, Tae.”

“Anything you want,” he murmurs.

Taehyung’s hand shifts between your legs again, so hot, so big, so reverent. The slide is smooth as his fingers press into your folds, practically gliding. You twist beneath him, letting out a noise of displeasure when he draws his hand away, but then he lifts off your calves. You let him thrust your legs apart before he resettles between them.

Just as you’re distracted with the towel being tugged away from your hips, baring you entirely, Taehyung slides a finger into your weeping cunt.

You whine. It's so long. Now that your calves aren’t trapped, there’s nothing to stop you from rutting back against his fingers. He splays his other hand over the soft flesh of your ass, encouraging the rolling motion of your hips, and you’re gasping, wanton in your noises of desire and pleasure. One finger becomes two, and then three, Taehyung’s voice a low undercurrent to your stuttered moans as he presses them as deep as he can.

“Just like that, angel,” he breathes. “Want you to feel good, keep making those pretty noises, let me know how good it is—”

“Taehyung,” you whine, dragging the syllables of his name out when he curls his fingers inside you, so amazing, hitting you in all the right places.

“Baby.” He sounds wrecked, words sliding together, and you haven’t even touched him yet. “You’re so hot n’ wet, fuck. So perfect. Just like that, keep moving like that.”

You can hear the slick sounds of his thrusts into you. He’s already learned what you like, twisting his fingers in a way that leaves you breathless; they’re so fucking long, sliding into your greedy cunt with ease, reaching so much deeper than your own can. His pretty lovely hands are on you, inside you, and you’re heady at the thought.

“There, Tae, don’t stop, please, p-please.” The coil twists tighter in between your legs, a taut thread that’s ready to snap. He listens, repeating the motion that’s pulling you closer to the edge, eyes wide, staring at the way you’re writhing underneath him; the way the oil on your back and legs shimmers in the light, the evidence of his touch all over you, shining. “Tae, oh, God, right there, yes, yes, yes—”

Your entire body goes tense and then you’re cumming around Taehyung’s fingers, clenching your thighs together, trapping him inside as you buck your hips. You grind back against his hand, a loud moan falling from your lips, drowning out the noise of awe that Taehyung makes when he feels your walls pulsate around him. You're warm and tight and wet, arousal flooding thick against his skin, and he lets out a stuttered groan, fingers buried knuckle deep inside you, feeling every wave of pleasure that rocks through your core.

You’re panting by the time you settle back down and barely make a sound when Taehyung drags his fingers out of you. When he leans down the oil on your skin feels tacky against his clothes, material sticking to you, chest to back, hips to ass. You can feel the hot curve of him through his trousers, his cock heavy, getting harder—and it feels sososo good.

Taehyung’s face is so close, now, chin hooked over your shoulder. Even though you can feel the hardness of his cock pressed against you, the smile on his face is so gentle. Your heart thrums in your chest.

“So cute n' pretty,” he says, and presses his nose to the soft curve of your cheek. Rather than coconut, all you can smell is his shampoo, familiar and homely and heady. “All over. God, I can’t believe you’d let me touch you like this. I’m so lucky. Was that good, baby?”

“Yes,” you say, and then, because you’re still floating in a light haze of disbelief: “I’m the lucky one.” 

Taehyung laughs, low and quiet. It’s a honeyed moment, dripping slow and sweet, even sweeter when he tilts his head forward. His lips are soft against your cheekbone, your jaw, and when you turn towards him, they’re even softer against your mouth. You can feel the shape of his smile, and it tastes so bright, small kisses that turn open mouthed, so perfect. Because you’re kissing Kim Taehyung, your Taehyung, something you’ve been dreaming about for so long, now—even if this entire situation is pretty unbelievable, honestly.

When you pull back, his eyes spark with unadulterated joy. He’s warm and heavy, pinning you down against the towels that are soft against your front; arching your spine, you lean back against the weight of Taehyung’s body, his cock fattening up through the layers of clothes that separate you. He lets out a breath of surprise before he grinds down, pressing that hard heat against you, and your cunt clenches.

“Can I finish the massage?” He asks, sounding almost eager, even with the rasp of lust in his voice. You can’t help but laugh, an affectionate giggle that has you knocking your foreheads together.

“Of course,” you say, and he catches your lips again, swallowing the last of your laughter, sweeping his tongue over your lips, inside your mouth, wet and hot and a little messy, but good. 

“You need to be on your back,” Taehyung continues, slow after the kiss is broken, and, oh, okay, that has you shivering. “If you want to?”

Of course you want to.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Let me move.”

He shifts to give you room, but not before pressing a kiss to the back of your neck, the bump of the top of your spine, lips sliding against the oil that he’d rubbed there earlier, goosebumps erupting over your skin.

“So good to me,” he whispers. You don’t think he even means for you to hear it. 

(It’s said without thought; not thoughtless, no, but a soft little thing that says so much. A thought that’s slipped across his mind and fallen from his lips, warm and tender. Like you’re always good to him, and he sees it, he knows it, he feels it, he thinks it, and he’s almost in disbelief about it, because you’re so good to him.)

You feel warm and languid after cumming, loose-limbed as you flop onto your back. There’s no going back now. There’s no going back from this moment, naked and vulnerable under Taehyung, nothing hidden away any more—the soft fall of your breasts, your stomach, the lines of your hips, your fingers tightening in the towels spread beneath you as Taehyung’s eyes drink you in, wide and overawed at the sight of your flushed cunt, ripe and slick and ready for him.

(There's no more hiding how much you want Taehyung to have you, body and heart alike.)

You can see the shape of your body silhouetted on his clothes, where the oil has seeped into the material from how close he’d been pressed against you. You can see just how affected he is, cock straining against the loose linen of his white trousers, and you bite your lip to try and stifle the sound you make.

“Look at you,” Taehyung breathes, kneeling between your legs. “You’re so perfect.”

Your cheeks burn. “Taehyung, please,” you say, embarrassed. You really aren’t, especially in comparison to model-gorgeous Kim Taehyung, eyes dark and full of heated lust, hair falling in his eyes, effortlessly beautiful, always.

“You are,” he insists. “You have no idea how perfect you are.”

Before he reaches for the massage oil, he sucks the taste of you off his fingers, sloppy and messy. Your pussy throbs at the sight. And—you were also right about the visual being too much to handle, breath catching in your throat as you watch it drip into his broad hands. His palms shine as he rubs them together, interlacing his fingers, so graceful in their motions. You’re so wet from your orgasm, only getting wetter as you stare back at Taehyung, whose gaze has been heavy on you the whole time.

He starts at your collarbones. It’s even slower than before, and you ease underneath him, revelling in the softness of his touch. He sweeps his hands over your shoulders, down your arms, circling his long fingers around your wrists before lifting one of your hands. Your eyelashes flutter as he presses a kiss to your palm, a motion so full of adoration and tenderness it steals your breath away, and you squirm, shy.

“Tae,” you whine. “You can’t just do that.”

Of course he doubles down, lifting your other hand and repeating the motion, letting his lips linger between your head line and your heart line. “I can,” he says, words warm in your cupped palm. 

“I hope you didn’t do this in class.” Your voice is too weak for it to come out as the joke you mean it to be. 

Taehyung just shakes his head, mouth brushing over the tips of your fingers. “Only for you,” he says. “Did the whole class for you. I wanted—wanted an excuse to touch you more,” he admits, and your heart feels like it’s going to launch itself out of your throat.

“Then touch me,” you say, trying to sound confident even if your cheeks burn.

And he does. He lets your hands drop, gliding his touch back up your arms, down your body, over your legs; he massages your thighs and calves, digs his thumbs into the arches of your feet, circling his fingers around your ankles, shackles you don’t want to escape from. You feel so relaxed and lax, somehow, even if every touch has you biting your lip, anticipation roiling  in your stomach for what’s to come, Taehyung laying your legs down softly before he shifts back up, hands held out towards you—

—then he cups your breasts in his big, big hands and your back arches, fingers sliding over your nipples, glistening with coconut oil, circling them with the pads of his thumbs. You let out an embarrassing whine.

“Oh, Tae,” you beg. “More, please.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

You smile at another soft, unexpected pet name, flustered, but then your eyes slide shut when Taehyung bends down to kiss your neck as he continues to run his hands over the swell of your breasts. He trails his lips over your oiled skin, shifts down, drawing a line from your neck to the valley of your chest, the hard line at the center of your ribcage.

“Tae,” you murmur, and then, feeling bold under the heat of Taehyung’s dark eyes— “Baby.”

He hums before laying another sloppy kiss against your sensitive skin. You can feel the curve of his smile in the kiss. “Yes, love?”

“Is it really okay for you to… you know… get that oil in your mouth? I don’t want you to get sick,” you say, concerned, even through the haze of your arousal. His lips shine with it, at how he’s been trailing his mouth over all the parts of your body that he’s touched.

There’s a short beat, and then Taehyung buries his head against your neck—in that little hollow that’s his, in a motion he’s done dozens of times. Except this time you’re naked and he still has fingers splayed across the soft skin of your chest, nipples dragging underneath his palms.

“You’re always so considerate.” His words are muffled against your skin. “It’s fine. It’s edible.”

“You got edible massage oil from your course?”

Taehyung hesitates. “No,” he admits. “I bought it. It’s edible and, uh. Safe for intimate use.”

You’re silent, just for a moment, and then you can’t help it. You start to laugh. 

“Kim Taehyung,” you say, body shaking with amusement. “Did you buy edible massage oil that you can also use as lube?”

Taehyung pulls his face away from your neck and glances up. You’re giggling at him, and he feels so full of love and affection; he can’t help but join in, both laughing at him, loud and carefree.

“It’s why I asked which one you liked,” he confesses, once he can catch his breath.

“I can’t believe you lied to me,” you say, but you don’t mind, really, and he knows it. You lift a hand to push hair out of his face, running your fingers down his scalp. He leans into your touch with a smile, bright and lovely, before he abruptly shifts one of his hands down so he can lick a hot, wet stripe across the skin of your breast.

That stops your laughter pretty fast, surprised hiccup shifting into a broken moan when he engulfs your nipple in the heat of his mouth. “O-oh,” you gasp. “Oh, Taehyung—”

“Been thinking about this for so long.” Taehyung’s eyes are lidded and dark as he leans back, watching the way you react to his touch, arching up towards him. “Wanted to touch you like this so much.”

“Wanted it too,” you breathe. “Wanted—oh, God, Tae, fuck—”

It’s overwhelming. Not just the way Taehyung is flicking his tongue over each of your nipples, pressing his lips against your skin, no—but the idea that he’s been hoping for this, too. Each wet motion of his tongue over your pebbled skin drags pulls out of you; Taehyung’s cock twitches at a loud keen that’s drawn from your lips, a wet patch of precum seeping through his boxers and trousers, darkening the fabric, even though you haven’t touched him yet.

When you reach out to grasp him through his clothes, his hips jolt forward and he bites off a surprised gasp, cutting through the sound with his teeth. He feels long and heavy as you stroke him, thumbing over the wet patch at his tip, hot, even through all those layers between your skin and his.

“I want to feel you, Tae,” you say, staring at him. “Inside me. Please.”

His breath hitches when you tighten your fingers around his shaft and drag your hand upwards, slow and intent. 

“The oil isn’t condom friendly,” he admits, abashed. 

“Then you can cum in my mouth,” you reply. No hesitation.

Taehyung’s eyes are so wide, but then he smiles, eyes squeezing into crescents, mouth turning up into that lovely, broad grin of his. He looks so sweet and sincere, and you feel like you could explode, stuffed overfull with love for him.

“You really are perfect,” he says.

“Only for you,” you reply, your smile just as bright.

He lays one final kiss to your chest, above your beating heart, before he starts to strip. The oil has obviously soaked through his shirt and onto his skin because it sticks when he peels it off and carelessly throws it aside. 

Just like his heart, Taehyung’s body is soft and lovely. You sit up so you can touch him properly, catching him off guard when you pull him in for a kiss—one he eagerly leans into, and without the shirt in the way you can feel the way your skin slides against his, softened with oil. 

There really is no one as beautiful as Kim Taehyung. You drag your hands over him, so warm and wonderful under your palms; his chest, his cute tummy, his waist, his hips, the soft skin above his red, neglected cock. He’s radiant in his nakedness, every easing line of his body so perfect as he kneels in front of you, the flush of his skin, the heavy weight of his arousal, head shining with precum, so wet it’s practically dripping.

You lean in to kiss his neck and nip at his Adam's apple as his hands slide over your shoulder blades and down your back, the parts that make you shudder.

“Want you, Tae.” You whisper into his mouth, a soft secret that isn’t really a secret at all, not any more. “All of you.”

“Going to give you everything you want.” The words flow out of him with ease. “Everything you want.”

His chest and stomach shine with the massage oil that’s rubbed off from your own skin. You run your hands across him, and when you finally grasp his cock without the barrier of cloth in the way, he’s almost burning under your grasp, thick, his entire body shuddering when you pump his length. So sensitive to your touch.

“I’m goin’ to make you cum again,” he promises, and you love it, the way he talks when he’s losing himself. “Bet you’ll feel so good around my cock, so perfect.”

A shiver skates through your body. Taehyung’s fingers dig into your skin when he feels you trembling under his hands, and all you can think about is how you want him in you.

“Please,” you say. “Please, wanna make you feel good too—”

“Hands and knees, angel,” he rasps, and, God, yes, those words cut straight through you, sharp and electric.

Maybe you should feel embarrassed at how quickly you obey. The towels underneath you, so carefully placed at the start, perfectly flat, become rumpled as you shift into position; you arch your back, wanting to look as good as possible, and glance over your shoulder to see if it works.

Judging from the look on Taehyung’s face, it does. He looks like he’s never seen anything more awe-inspiring, eyes wide and mouth a little slack, dumbstruck. But then his jaw snaps shut and he splays his hands over the soft skin of your hips, your waist, your ass, shuffling closer to you; you feel the curve of his cock slide against your skin and you bite back a noise of need.

“Fuck, so beautiful.” He ruts forward, and you can feel the wetness of his precum slicking against you, a beaded line drawn across the sheen of massage oil. “My beautiful, perfect girl.”

“Tae,” you plead, already overwhelmed with need, heart squeezing at his words.

“Just one more thing, angel, I promise.”

It’s a good thing that the bottle of massage oil is so big, considering how liberal Taehyung is with it. You gasp when he uses one hand to spread your ass and before you can react there’s a drizzle of oil falling onto your skin, down-down-down, over your cunt, dripping over your inner thighs; Taehyung catches the excess with his palms before he slicks himself up, spreading that sweet coconut over his throbbing cock.

(You wonder what it’ll taste like when you lick it off him.)

When you feel the blunt head of his cock nudging at your pussy, your entire body lights up in anticipation, nerve endings on fire, every inch of your body singing under Taehyung’s touch—and when he finally sinks in, it’s almost effortless. He’s thick and long but everything slides so easy; you gasp and he moans, both lost in how your body opens up for him, hot and wet. By the time he’s bottomed out you're a quivering mess, collapsed onto your elbows. You’re so full. You feel split open in all the best ways, wanting to draw him in impossibly deeper even so.

Taehyung is gripping your sides, hands unmoving even with the slick oil underneath them, fingers digging into your skin. He’s breathing so loud, and when you experimentally shift your hips, he bites back a noise that cuts through that breath.

“How’s it feel, love?” His words slur together in arousal, but the hand that strokes your back is slow, thoughtful. “Feel good?”

“Fuck me, Tae, baby, please,” you beg. It’s so, so so much, so good, amazing, hotter and bigger and harder than anything you’d let yourself imagine, your entire body taking Taehyung and holding him in, in, in. “Please, I need it, it feels good but I want more, please.”

When he pulls away it’s slow and torturous and he goes so far he almost slips out, cock nearly sliding out of your folds. You whine, a little shameless, mostly needy, but then—

The snap of his hips drives you forwards, towels shifting underneath as you scrabble for a hold on something. Each sharp motion of Taehyung’s body has you choking for air and letting out whimpers and gasps, drowned out by the slap of skin on skin; his hipbones meet the soft flesh of your ass, again and again, but all you can focus on is the thick heat of his cock inside you, in-out-in-out, the press of his balls against your clit, everything so wet and smooth and slick.

You can feel how you’re losing yourself to that heady place that’s golden bright with feeling, lust and sex, the rest of the world gone, unimportant. There’s nothing but this—Taehyung touching you, filling your body so well, so perfect, helping you chase that high that’s growing faster and faster, that precipice of pleasure that he’s going to throw you over again, intent on it.

One of his hands trails up your back, between that sensitive dip of your shoulder blades and into your hair, locks tangling with coconut oil before he urges you up. He doesn’t yank or pull but his hold is firm and you end up back on your hands, arms trembling as you try to keep your balance, back bowed, overwhelmed. 

“Baby,” he rasps. “Oh, you’re so tight n’ hot, so pretty, fuck. You feel so good, do you feel good?”

Your answer is almost a wail, so overcome with pleasure, sensation, the glide of his hands over your shining skin, the mix of oil and arousal that drips out of you, only getting wetter with each thrust of his hips into you. “So good, o-oh God, Tae, baby, fuck, oh, theretherethere—”

“Here?”

He punctuates this with a roll of his hips, using the hand still on your hip to pull you back onto his cock as he fills you up once more, throbbing heat. He bends over you, and this time, there’s nothing stopping the skin on skin contact, the slide of his chest against your back as he kisses the soft skin behind your ear, nipping at your lobe, and that’s it, you’re gone. Your eyes slide shut and your mouth falls open as another orgasm crashes through you, legs shaking as you cum around Taehyung’s cock, grinding back against him to drag out that pleasure; the only thing holding you up is the hand still in your hair, the lips trailing up the side of your bared neck, the hard cock inside you, keeping you against him, so many points of connection with Taehyung.

(His chest pressed against your back, heart beating so hard you can feel it, your own heart moving in tandem, matching him.)

He’s been whispering filth to you, heated praise and love, how good you feel, how beautiful you are, what it’s like to see you like this, touch you like this, have you like this. Lovely, pretty, perfect, gorgeous, hot n’ wet n’ tight, fuck, love, oh.

You’re still shivering, the final pulses of your orgasm curling through you with each unintentional shift of Taehyung’s hips, the drag of his length inside your inner walls. You can feel something dripping out of you; oil, cum, you don't know, but fuck, it feels so so good.

“Oh, God,” you say. Breathless. “Oh, Taehyung, oh.”

“Pretty darling,” he murmurs. He swivels his hips, grinding against you, and your entire body jolts with oversensitivity, clit swollen where his balls press against it. You tighten around him and groan at how hot and big he still feels inside, even as you still shiver from the come down of your second orgasm. “Gonna roll you over so I can see that perfect face.”

And when you’re on your back again, fucked out and mussed and wrecked, he just stares at you. You’ve watched his face for so long, seen so many expressions flit across his features, but never something like this—it’s a mix of amazement and awe and tenderness and lust and love, a lift to his brows and a spark in his eyes and a set to his lips.

And when he leans down to kiss you, that look doesn’t leave. It melts and softens around the edges as you catch each other's mouths, as you kiss and kiss, small tender things interspersed with longer, deeper touches, lips and teeth and tongue—his eyes darken and his mouth flushes darker pink, kiss swollen and so beautiful, but that expression stays. It stays for you. 

Kim Taehyung is beautiful and lovely and unique. Kim Taehyung is so far out of your reach it’s kind of stunning, actually. And yet, here you are, existence of his touch over every part of you, in every part of you, lust driven, love full; the carefully balanced weight of his body splayed over you, pinning you down, keeping you close.

“I wanna see you cum, Tae,” you say. “Please?”

And just like he always does, Taehyung indulges you, just like you indulge him. He presses back inside you, cunt opening up for him so easy, so smooth, like his touch has already been etched into the memory of your body, perfect for him. He stays pressed close, face so near as he rolls into each thrust, sweat and coconut oil painted across your skin as your bodies shift together.

He’s been covering you in his words, both heated and sweet, and now you return the favour. You tell him how good he feels, how beautiful he is, so good, so perfect, so considerate, how much you’ve wanted this. So good, so long and thick, oh, Tae, feels so good, ah-ah-ah, baby, you’re unreal, fuck.

You can see the exact moment he starts to reach his high, the way he sucks in air, the way he lifts his chin, starts to thrust a little harder, a little faster, chasing that thread of pleasure that’s spiralling through him, and you urge him on. You lift your hips and clench so tight it has him gasping, hips stuttering, and you press your nose against his jaw, saying give it to me give it to me give it to me, wanting him to feel the same pleasure he’s given you. 

When he pulls out, you’re too busy moving to pay attention to how empty you feel, settling between his legs and swallowing down his shining cock almost desperately. There’s no coconut. You can only taste yourself and when you lave your tongue across his slit it’s all Taehyung-Taehyung-Taehyung, hot and salt and bitter; he gasps and his hips jump and you take it all, lowering your head as far as you can, the head of his cock at the back of your throat before you pull up, dragging your tongue over the pulsing vein at the underside, messy and wet. You drink down the wetness of his cock, your own arousal, mixed with his, the precum that beads at his head, staring up at him, your hands sliding over the sheen of his stomach, his thighs, cupping his balls, everything slick with oil and sweat.

“Oh, God.” Taehyung’s eyes are blown and his hair is a mess and his mouth is wide open as he pants for air, watching. “Baby, baby, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum.”

You suck hard, dragging your lips up from the base of the cock to the rounded tip, swirling your tongue, bobbing your head faster—

“Oh, fuck—”

—and you swallow down each wave of cum, swallow down the way his cock twitches as he spills the evidence of pleasure into your mouth, swallow down the lovely noises that shudder out of him, watching him the whole time, never wanting to look away.

When you take your mouth off his softening cock, you draw a line of kisses with your mouth, up the soft skin of his body, stomach to chest to neck to mouth. He licks the taste of coconut oil off your lips, the taste of himself off your tongue; you curl up in his lap, settled against him, the apartment’s cool air even sharper against your skin, magnified by the oil that still lingers.

(Even without the oil painted across him, Taehyung would still shine, even under the weak light from the cheap lightbulb that hangs above you.)

You feel soft and warm and small in the circle of Taehyung’s arms, pulled close, and you can hear the words in his chest as he speaks, a resonance that touches against your skin.

“‘M sorry,” he murmurs. 

You pause.

“Baby, love, darling.” The endearments are sugar sweet in your mouth, soft against his skin before you pull back to look at him, confused, concerned. “Sorry for what?”

“I really—I really was just planning to do a massage, but you’re so…” 

You let out a slip of laughter. The room smells of coconut and sex, but when you lay your head against Taehyung’s collarbone all you can smell is the light tinge of his sweat. You breathe in, deep, like you can hold onto that ephemeral part of him. “Oh, Tae. I’m so what?”

“You’re so good,” he says. “So good and kind and lovely and—and so beautiful. I was going to do the massage to make you happy and then… tell you. About how happy you make me.”

You burrow your head into the hollow of his neck, the way he does to you, shy. “I’m not as beautiful as you,” you reply. “Tae, you are literally the most beautiful person alive, and—God, I’ve. I’ve been. So head over heels for you.”

There’s a pause. “Really?”

When you pull back to fix Taehyung with all the surprise in your gaze, you can see that he’s surprised, too. His hair hangs into his eyes, and he looks a little unsure, like he believes you, but finds it impossible to fathom.

You leave massage oil on his cheeks when you cup his face in your hands, staring at him with wide eyes. “Kim Taehyung, I have had daily breakdowns about the intensity of my love for you to Pickles ever since we got him. You’re the first person I think about each morning—usually because we wake each other up—and the last thing I think about at night—well, usually because you end up climbing into my bed more often than not, but, it still counts,” you say. You’re both tangled together in so many ways already. “You’ve had my heart for a long time, you know. I just never thought I had a chance?”

When Taehyung kisses you, it’s brief, a hard press of his lips before he rests his forehead against yours. “You really, really have no idea how perfect you are,” he murmurs. “I’ve wanted—I want to do everything for you to show you how grateful I am for everything you do for me.”

“You don’t have to,” you protest, but he just smiles.

“I don’t have to, but I want to,” he says. “Like you don’t have to look after me, but you do.”

“That’s because I love you,” you say. “Like, capital L love you.”

You’ve been so afraid of confessing, so convinced that it was an unattainable dream; that Kim Taehyung would never, could never, has never seen you as more than a friend. But the way he’s looking at you now, the way he’s touched you, the way your body still echoes with the feeling of him inside you: you’re not scared, any more. You don’t need to be.

Taehyung’s eyes are so dark and warm when he replies, easy and effortless. “I love you, too.”

Your relationship has always been a give and take, is the thing. When you climb in the shower together, he washes the oil from your back while you massage shampoo into his scalp, laughing when he makes devil horns in his hair. He catches you by surprise when he presses you against the tiles, swallowing your moans when he coaxes one final orgasm from your tired body, rubbing tight circles over your clit as you buck against his hand and water cascades over you both. His cock hardens in your hands, sliding between your legs when you press them together, tight-tight-tight, his length rubbing against your cunt as he fucks your thighs until he’s moaning and shaking and cumming again.

(The water’s cold by the time you finally climb out, but that’s okay. You giggle and kiss as you dry yourselves, each other, excuses to keep touching and feeling, driven by affection, not lust.)

When you’re both clean, and dry, Taehyung’s leg thrown over your hip as he tugs you in, flush with his body under the covers, you press your lips against the line of his jaw.

“Taehyung?”

“Yes, angel?”

You smile and hunch up even closer to him, scrunching yourself up as small as you can to plaster yourself against his side. “Thank you for the wonderful massage. Definitely the best massage I’ve ever been given, ten out of ten, would do again.”

Taehyung laughs, pressing his rectangular smile into the kiss he lays against your lips, and you think that nothing tastes better than the happiness curling his mouth.

“Love you,” he murmurs. Always romantic. “I love you love you love you.”

“Tae-honey-hyung.” And it feels so nice to not have to filter your words, to bite back that second layer of meaning, to try and keep things platonic and chaste when you speak. “I love you.”

And it feels so nice to have your Taehyung beside you, your body still aching with the press of him inside you, a good ache, a nice ache. A physical ache from good love, rather than a heartache from a love you didn’t think was reciprocated. But it is, somehow, each of you so bowled over by each other.

--

(“Hey, Pickles.”

The bearded dragon looks up at you, placid as he lounges in his tank.

“Well, you’ll be happy to hear that you won’t have to put up with me ranting at you any more,” you say. “Taehyung did break out the massage oil but it’s all good. I didn’t spontaneously combust or anything, like I thought I would.”

Pickles’ tongue flicks out as he shifts, and you smile.

“Okay, that’s it, I’m done,” you finish. “Thanks, Pickles. You’re a real pal.”

Taehyung nuzzles into your neck. His arms are a tight circle around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder as he looks down at the reptile, too. He’s warm and solid against your back, and you lean into him, happiness tingling through you.

“I wonder how much longer we would have taken if you didn’t get that coupon for a massage therapy course,” you muse, and Taehyung chuckles, warm and lovely.

“We would have gotten there eventually. And we would have had each other until we did, anyway. Right, angel?”

Pickles stays quiet as you both kiss, but you can tell he approves.)

--

taglist: @beyoncesdragon​

[marginalmadness]

Summer Nights: Chapter 1/4

Pairing: Rabbit!Hybrid Jungkook x Y/N

Rating: Teen (later explicit)

Genre: Hybrid!Fantasy, Romance, Fluff

Synopsis: A freak weather anomaly leads to a chance encounter with a rabbit-hybrid, and your kind nature results in you gaining a small, fluffy lodger, who questions your taste in television shows. It’s won’t be for long...will it?

Warnings/Tags: None right now, will add with additional chapters

Author’s Note: So the beautiful, wonderful, ever patient @johobi commissioned as we went into lockdown the first time, and it took me forever to write, and ended up being about 4x longer than I expected because, feelings and plot kept getting involved. Anyhow, the fic is finished, but with NaNoWriMo this month, and my already teasing this, I’m releasing this in 4 chapters, as I edit it, the next one will be next Friday, so I hope you all enjoy this, I got some wonderful comments from @johobi​ and she made this WONDERFUL HEADER <3, and I hope you all look forward to Chapters 2-4

Chapters: Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Word Count: 4.3K

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction for entertainment purposes only. The events depicted here are entirely of my own imagining, and have no basis on actual people or events.

Summer Nights

The weather report this morning said nothing about rain. Not a shower, not a sprinkle, and even now, as you check your phone for the thousandth time, there’s no indication of the storm that is currently darkening the sky over the entire city.

You fight your way out of the subway station, pushing past people rushing down the stairs out of the deluge. As you clamber your way up through them and onto the street, it feels like you’re pushing against a wall of water.

You curse yourself and the umbrella that sits serenely dry and unused under the side table by your front door. Because according to the highest-rated, “most accurate” weather app available, it was supposed to be nothing but dry, sunny spells through the end of the week and staying warm and dry over the weekend.

You dash across the road, taking a shortcut through the park, hoping to find some relief under the canopy of trees but somehow the drops feel heavier under the leaves. Cold rivulets of water run down your neck, under the collar of your coat, completely defeating the purpose of you clutching it closed.

You’re halfway home when, as suddenly as it started this morning, the rain stops. You look up through the branches and the sky is miraculously clear, dappled sunlight falling across your face as birdsong suddenly fills the park, nothing but dripping leaves and ground puddles to indicate the previous weather. This must be the sunny spell that was previously promised.

You wipe your hand across your face to remove some of the hair clinging to it, but since your hand is as wet as everything else, it’s a losing battle. There’s just as much water on your face after wiping it, and strands of hair are now just pulled across your forehead rather than limply clinging to your cheeks. You sigh, readjusting the strap of your bag and hoping the contents inside aren’t as soaked as you are, when for the second time in less than a minute you are stunned to another stop.

Before you is a tiny, shivering, soggy ball of fur.

You could swear it wasn’t there a second ago, but it’s possible it darted out from under one of the surrounding bushes and you startled it as much as it, you.

Crouching down, you reach a hand out towards the small creature, which lifts its head, twitches its nose and shuffles towards you. It’s hard to tell under the sopping wet fur, but it doesn’t look like what you’ve seen of regular wild rabbits. Its fur is darker, but that might just be an effect of the rain. It also seems longer, but again it’s hard to tell when wet. The biggest giveaway that it’s no regular wild rabbit are the two long, floppy ears that hang down either side of its head, dragging along the path as it moves towards you.

“Hey cutie pie,” you say in as soft a voice as possible while shivering from the wet and the cold. “You don’t look like you’re from around here.”

The creature makes a full hop towards you and sniffs at your hand, and you’re almost 100% sure it’s a rabbit and not a hare. You slip your other hand beneath its tiny body and stand, clutching it to your chest. You wait to see if it’s going to resist or fight but it only snuggles into your coat. “Okay, let's get you home and dried off, and then see if we can find your owner,” you say, scratching its head gently.

Almost as soon as you tuck the tiny creature under your coat, the rain starts again, skies grey, water coming down in sheets as though it never stopped. You run the rest of the way through the park and across the road, not minding that you step into a puddle since your feet are already so wet. You barrel your way into your apartment building, stopping to catch your breath as you wait for the elevator.

As soon as you’re through your front door you carefully step out of your shoes, drop your bag and shuck off your drenched coat, vowing to come back and clean them up later. You’re so soaked your clothes cling to you, as though you weren’t wearing a coat at all, and you hit the thermostat on high as you run past on your way to the bathroom.

“Why don’t we get you all nice and snug in a towel? Let you warm up while I take a shower, hm, little buddy?”

Grabbing a hand towel, you carefully wrap the trembling creature in your arms, rubbing the wet fur carefully before placing the bundle in the sink and stripping down to jump in the hot shower.

The hot water stings your chilled skin the instant it makes contact, but it warms you up quicker than waiting around for your apartment to heat up or hiding under your duvet would. Stepping out of the shower, you wrap a warm, fluffy towel around yourself and notice the small rabbit has its eyes closed. You pick it up in its bundle, and it seems to blink in alarm at being moved.

“Awww,” you coo aloud. “Did the warm steam lull you to sleep, lil’ bun?” The rabbit looks up at you and then closes its eyes, nuzzling back into the towel covering it. You carry it into your room and place it on your bed before changing into something warm and snuggly and drying your hair. By the time you’re all done, the bunny has fallen asleep, curled up in a little cocoon of warmth.

You head back towards the front door, picking up your coat and moving your waterlogged shoes into the bathroom. You pick up your bag and hope your phone was buried deep enough inside to escape water damage. Luckily, all of the contents inside seem untouched and you send a prayer of thanks to whoever was watching over you to pull that one off.

Grabbing your phone, you quickly search for a local vet that’s still open, hitting ‘call now’ when you find a decently-reviewed one. You kneel at the foot of the bed until you’re eye level with the fluffy, dark-furred rabbit. It watches you with curiosity, whiskers twitching as your face gets closer to it.

“Hello, Park Place Animal Hospital,” a tinny voice says pleasantly through the phone. “Eric speaking, how can I help?”

“Hi,” you say cautiously. “I found a rabbit in the park, and think someone might have lost it. It doesn’t look like a wild rabbit.” Maybe it was a wild rabbit, you argue with yourself; you’re not exactly a rabbit expert.

“Can you describe it to me?” Eric asks.

“It’s got long, dark fur; black or maybe dark brown? Seems… fluffy?” you say with uncertainty. “It was drowned-looking when I found it in the storm, and it’s wrapped in a towel drying now. But its ears are long and floppy. Really long. Really, really long,” you emphasise.

There’s a chuckle on the other end of the phone. “Well it certainly doesn’t sound like a wild rabbit. Possibly a member of the lop family. It could be a lost pet, but are you sure it’s not a hybrid?”

That stops you. A hybrid? Never even crossed your mind. Why would a hybrid stay in animal form in a storm and let a stranger take them home?

“I-” you stutter. “I don’t know. I’m a mundane, I don’t know how I would be able to tell.”

“Well, scent is the easiest way to tell, but you wouldn’t be able to use that as a mundane and it’s a little late to bring it into the clinic. You could talk to it, ask it some questions.”

You frown down at the bunny. Maybe you were missing something. “I don’t speak Bunny.” You could hear Eric holding back his smile over the phone.

“But hybrids understand human speech,” he says, holding back his laughter. “Assuming you speak the same languages.” You purse your lips, eyes glancing around the room, cheeks burning in embarrassment. “Where are you right now?”

“In my bedroom,” you say. “The bunny-hybrid-whatever is wrapped in a towel on my bed and I’m kneeling on the floor at the foot of it.”

“And what is the ‘bunny-hybrid-whatever’ doing?”

“It's-” You look at the rabbit and are a little taken aback to realise it’s watching you, head raised, nose twitching inquisitively. “-watching me.”

“Okay, unwrap it and leave the room. Tell it, if it’s hungry, to follow you to the kitchen. If it’s a hybrid, it will understand and follow you.”

You blink owlishly at the creature, before nodding in determination. “Okay.” You unwrap the towel and move to the doorway. The bunny watches you leave.

“I need to make dinner. If you’re hungry, follow me. I have some veggies you can eat.” The bunny stands up on its hindquarters, giving itself a shake until its fur is sticking up in funny-looking spikes. It jumps down from the bed and lops after you as you walk towards the kitchen. You turn your attention back to Eric on the phone. “I promised the bunny veggies, and now it’s following me into the kitchen.”

“Congratulations, you have a hybrid-rabbit in your home.” Eric laughs. “It’s late now, we’ll be closing soon, but if they haven’t turned by morning you can bring them by the clinic and we’ll be able to either issue a T.o.C or take them in until we can find out where they came from.”

“T-O-C?” you ask slowly.

“Treaty of Care. Hybrids who stay in their animal form for extended periods of time need special care. It’s usually infant or adolescent hybrids born in animal form who haven’t turned for the first time yet, or hybrids hurt in animal form who need to heal before they can transform back. A Treaty of Care is usually served to a close friend or family member, but it can be anyone.”

“Even a stranger?” you ask, stopping in your tracks and looking down at the small creature by your foot. It looks up at you with big, dark eyes.

“If they didn’t fight you when you first picked them up, and they haven’t shown any signs that they want to leave, then they feel comfortable with you. At least for the time being. So the decision seems to be yours. Think about it tonight, and come in tomorrow.”

“Will do. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” you mutter, biting your lip and shuffling from foot-to-foot.

“No problem, have a nice evening,” Eric says politely.

“Thanks, you too.” You hang up the phone, motioning with your head towards the kitchen. “There’s apples in there.” The bunny-hybrid zooms off, hopping towards the kitchen, and you let out a little giggle at its enthusiasm.

Once there, you head to the fridge and pull out what you need to make yourself dinner, plus some extra veggies for your unintended guest. You dump them and the promised apple into the sink, making sure to give them a good wash before you start chopping things into rabbit-convenient pieces. A gentle pressure against your calf stops you, and you turn to find the long-eared bunny leaning against you as it stands on its hind legs, either trying to get a better look at what you’re doing or begging for a snack.

“Are you nosey or impatient?” you ask, and the hybrid drops to all fours before hopping around your feet. You lean down to pick it up, placing it on the counter next to you and offering it a slice of apple. Its tail—no, its entire body wiggles in appreciation as it munches on the apple slice, nibbling away with its eyes contentedly closed. You finish chopping the veggies and place a selection on a plate, setting it in front of the hybrid. The bunny hops high, kicking its back legs in excitement before diving into the pile to devour it.

With a tentative finger, you reach out to scratch behind the rabbit’s ear. To your relief, it doesn’t recoil. Encouraged by this, you settle your hand on its head and gently stroke its fluff. The hybrid leans up, nuzzling its face into the palm of your hand. You smile appreciatively, tickling the rabbit’s chin before you turn to cook your own dinner.

---

The rest of your night you spend relaxing, curled up on the sofa watching TV.  The hybrid decides to join you, settling at the opposite end away from you. Normally you wouldn’t allow a pet or an animal on the furniture, but it’s not really an animal and you’d feel bad forcing a guest to sit on the floor if there was space on the sofa. You’re second-guessing your decision, though, when the rabbit expresses opinions on your choice of entertainment, nudging the remote when it wants you to change the channel and thumping its feet when it sees something good. You spend a good twenty minutes having a one-sided argument with a creature that communicates through nothing but foot stomping and nose twitches before you come to a consensus: a superhero movie that you never got to see in the cinema. You drop the remote and the rabbit hops closer to you, shuffling into a loaf by your feet. Like that, the pair of you spend the night watching six unlikely heroes and their friends save the world from total destruction.

---

Your first real, big conundrum is when you go to bed and the little ball of fluff follows you, jumping onto your comforter.

“No. Don’t be ridiculous, you are not sharing my bed,” you try to say forcefully, but the surreal nature of what's happening makes your tone just a little bit hysterical. The hybrid simply lowers its head to the comforter, making itself smaller, lopping closer to your hand until it’s nudging it. It wiggles its head beneath your fingers. “Is this you asking for permission? No! Off! Down! Off the bed!” The creature shimmies its fluffy tail and doesn’t move an inch. “I know you can understand what I’m saying, and it’s weird,” you whine. The tail-twitching stops. Big, dark eyes blink up at you as it sits up on its haunches, front paw waving at you like it’s trying to grab you.

You can’t help but feel you’re in a pouting contest with a rabbit.

“Fine,” you huff, flopping back on the bed dramatically. The hybrid lops towards you and you turn to watch. Fluff obscures your vision as it boops you gently on the nose, and you laugh at the tickle of its fur. You shuffle under the comforter with a yawn and turn off the lamp. “Okay. Tomorrow, when I get your Treaty of Care, I’m picking you up an animal bed. This is only for tonight, because you’ve obviously had a stressful day, so don’t get used to it.” The second you say it, you know it’s a lie. You’d lose a pouting contest with that bunny every time.

---

Ten weeks later, the rabbit now has a side of the bed. 

The side of the bed where his animal bed sits unused on the floor. 

The vet had given the hybrid a clean bill of health, identified it as a young adult male and given you a T.o.C for as long as it wanted to stay with you. Or until you returned it. But that would never happen.

Somehow you’d just fallen into a routine; breakfast for the both of you, rushing to and from work, changing the litter box, dinner for two, TV in the evenings. And now somehow, suddenly, it’s summer. Gone are the spring storms that brought the two of you together. Now you have the stifling heat and humidity of the peak of summer.

All the windows in the apartment are open and have been for at least a week. You don’t even sleep with a cover anymore, just collapse on top of it in the flimsiest two-piece that can cover your modesty. Honestly, even that feels like too must most nights, sticking to you in the humidity. It’s so hot that the hybrid - who you had simply called “Bun” for lack of a better name - no longer lay close to you, but far on the other side of the bed, stretched out on his side, ears akimbo. The city desperately needed a storm to break the humidity.

Half way through summer, you get your wish. You flinch, even in your sleep, as the room fills with blinding, white light. The crack of thunder that immediately follows is explosive in the silence of your room thanks to all the open windows. The storm startles you awake. Turning away from the window, you bury your face in your damp, sweat-drenched pillow, just as the gentle roll of heavy rain starts to beat against the heated concrete city.

“You okay, Bun?” you ask in a sleepy, raspy voice as you reach for the small creature. But where you expect to meet soft fur, you meet soft skin, solid muscle coiled tight beneath it. It takes a second for your brain to register the foreign sensation, before your head snaps up and your eyes open. You’re used to sleeping next to a small rabbit-hybrid, but in its place is a very naked young man, curled in the fetal position. His large, terror-filled eyes stare at you.

You scream, scrambling off the bed and across the floor to press your back against the wall. The naked man shrinks in on himself when you yell, curling himself into a tighter ball. You can see just enough of him over the edge of the bed to spy a long, floppy ear drape over one of his arms.

“Bun?” you ask in a breathless voice. He lifts his head, and those eyes—those large, round eyes are just as dark as they were when he was a rabbit. 

They’re the same. 

He moves up onto his hands and knees, crawling cautiously across the bed to peer down at you. His fingers curl over the edge of the mattress, long ears dangling either side of his face.

“Sorry,” he whispers in a soft voice. He’s still tucked in on himself like a loaf, like he would sit when he was a rabbit. You can hear his foot tapping against the mattress; he’s agitated. “I woke up like this a little while ago, before the storm was over the city. I guess it scared me into transforming back.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?” you ask, finally getting a handle on your breathing. It’s not everyday you wake up with a naked man in your bed…or any day recently, if you’re being honest.

“You’ve had trouble sleeping because of the heat. I didn’t want to disturb your rest.” Your heart aches. You knew the hybrid living with you was friendly and sweet-tempered, but hearing it makes it difficult not to reach out and pet and coo at him like you regularly would. There’s just enough light coming in from outside for you to see him bite his lower lip in the darkness. Your heart pangs again when you notice that he has bunny teeth even in his human form.

You shift, getting to your knees and moving closer to the bed. The hybrid doesn’t stir, still huddled in on himself, floppy ears falling each side of his face. They blend seamlessly into his long, dark, wavy hair. His eyes are impossibly large, as dark as the night sky, and reassuringly familiar. Just over his shoulder, down the slope of his back, you spy a fluffy tail twitching at the base of his spine. Resolutely, your eyes snap back to his face.

“That was very kind of you,” you say softly, watching his face spread into a warm smile, front teeth prominent and pressing into his bottom lip.

“You’ve been very kind to me,” he practically whispers, and you smile in return, resisting the urge to pat him on the head. You don’t know if it’s appropriate now he’s no longer a rabbit.

“Do you have a name?”

“Jungkook, but you can keep calling me Bun, if you want. I like it,” he says, louder this time. Confidently. And you decide, screw it, you’re going to pet him. But then thunder crashes again, bright light simultaneously filling the room, and for a single, breathtaking moment, in the stark light of the storm, you take him in. 

And he is absurdly beautiful.

Jungkook ducks his head. Curling into himself, one of his feet taps incessantly against the bed. You reach out, threading your fingers through his soft, chocolate brown locks until you’re rubbing his head, fingernails scratching lightly.

“Don’t worry, Jungkook, you’re safe. I’ll not let anything happen to you.” Slowly, he raises his face; eyes searching yours. “Treaty of Care, remember.” You give him a small smile. Jungkook leans forward then, pressing the tip of his nose into your cheek. 

You still. 

He used to do this all the time as a rabbit. It’s normal behaviour. Your research told you hybrids behave similarly to their animal counterparts. When in animal form, that is. You never expected it in human form.

His nose skims across your cheekbone until he’s rubbing it against yours. You can’t help but sigh at how incredibly intimate the act feels, and Jungkook must take that as some sort of sign, because the next thing he does is gently caress your lips with his. If it weren’t for how focused his eyes are, gauging your reaction, you might write it off as an accident. But then he does it again.

You pull back suddenly, shaking your head as though to clear it. “Let me get you something to wear,” you say, climbing to your feet and closing the blinds on your way to your draws. “I don’t know if they’ll fit you, but these are some old sweats.” You throw them to him on the bed, turning back to find him a shirt; something loose. You dig out an old t-shirt you won in a radio contest.

“Are you covered?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook says in a small voice. You turn around, extending the shirt toward him and short-circuiting when he stands at his full height. Your eyes are immediately drawn to his sculpted abdomen. All of him could be cut from marble. You stare, open-mouthed, as he shuffles foot to foot, awkwardly rubbing his elbow.

“Is that for me?” He asks finally, motioning to the garment in your hand. You nod, holding out the t-shirt emblazoned with the logo of a radio station you don’t ever recall listening to. Just as he takes it, thunder claps again and brightens the room and his arm flexes, dragging you into his personal space before you can release your hold on the fabric. His chest heaves, breaths coming heavy.

“I’m tired. Let’s sleep tonight and we’ll talk in the morning, okay?” you say softly, going for the bed. Jungkook just nods and moves towards the door. “Where are you going?” you ask, laying a hand on his arm.

“The sofa.” He ducks his head, ears hiding most of his face. “I didn’t think you’d want me sharing your bed anymore since—” he motions to his human form.

You swallow. It’s loud in the quiet of the room. “Is that why you stayed a rabbit for so long? So I’d let you stay?”

Jungkook looks up at you through his lashes; you can see him biting his lip again. “Kind of,” he mumbles, avoiding your eyes. “You were so kind to me when you found me. I was scared you’d want me to leave if I transformed back, and I wanted to stay for a little while.”

“Why?” you ask softly. “Didn’t you want to go home?” He smiles, but it looks embarrassed, his nose scrunching.

“No, not yet,” he says meekly, dipping his head. He hides behind his chocolate brown waves and long, floppy ears. “Going home is… it’s complicated.” 

You lean forward, carefully reaching up to brush one of his ears aside so you can better see his eyes. His ear twitches but he doesn’t pull away, instead looking at you with all the stars of the cosmos in his eyes. “You can tell me when you’re ready,” you encourage with a soft smile. “There’s no rush. I’m also not going to make you sleep alone when you’re scared,” you say, taking him by the hand and tugging him towards the bed.

“Are you sure?” he asks, looking over your shoulder towards the bed. But his face is hopeful, so you can tell he’s only asking out of politeness.

“There’s plenty of space. And besides, you’ve had weeks to hurt me and you haven’t. I trust you.” You let go of his hand and clamber into bed.

Jungkook perks up and slips the shirt hurriedly over his head, inside out and obscuring those perfectly sculpted abs. He scrambles over the mattress to his usual side of the bed, a buck-toothed smile all over his face. His human form is impressively built, but somehow, when his head hits the pillow and he curls into a ball, he looks almost as tiny as he did in bunny form.

You lay facing him, watching him carefully. His eyes are huge and flitting between your face and the window, like he’s waiting for another crash of thunder. You sit up, reaching down to where your thin blanket had been kicked out of the way when the heatwave started, holding it up, your meaning obvious. Jungkook immediately shuffles closer, curling into your side and burying his head under your chin. It startles you for a second, your entire body going stiff, but you take a deep breath and wrap an arm around him, willing yourself to relax. You thread your fingers through his soft, brown locks, caressing his head the way you did when he was still a rabbit. 

And before either of you realise the storm has already passed, you drift off together into restful sleep.

Next Chapter

[twelfth-harbinger]

A/n: So this happened... I simp for this archon god. Part two will be out soon! Pls enjoy!!

Mentions: A worried Zhongli— cares so much about your safety you entered a contract with him to ease his heart. Only to be reckless and well... break it. Xiao snitched. Now you must suffer the wrath of the rock and face a fitting punishment.

Warnings: None... yet. ;)

The Broken Contract Part 1

Being the absurdly lawful man that he is, Zhongli could not stand for a broken contract between you both. Even if it was a verbal contract it was a contract nonetheless.

How could he not be upset when you failed to follow through with your end of the contract. He sat across from you with tea, allowing the misty steam from the fine liyue crafted chinaware to fill his nostrils as he raised the cup to his lips. His eyes closed briefly to relax himself as he took his first sip. You stared at him, a bit awestruck at his composure being kept. What ever happened to ‘You will suffer the wrath of the rock?’ You wore a quaint smile on your lips, something he didn’t find all that amusing. Golden eyes settle on your face as he lowered the teacup. It was silent, the two of you could hear Mora drop with how still it was. You could tell he was pressed, the crease in his brow as he studied your nonchalant facial expression made it as clear as a refined and polished piece of cor lapis. Finally, he broke the silence with a question, one you didn’t think he’d ask so casually.

“How should we go about giving you the punishment you deserve?” He stated, your eyes widened a bit as he spoke. His voice was deep, smooth and firm and his eyes held the authority of a god you knew better than to cross. You simply couldn’t help it though, not when you knew he held a soft spot for you in his heart. As you part your lips to speak you noticed he looked at them momentarily before meeting your eyes again. He spoke further instead when you bit down on your bottom lip subconsciously. “You voided the contract and held disregard for your own life. Do you know what those treasure hoarders were going to do to you?” The irritation in his voice stagnated in the air and you felt a little apprehensive under his reprimanding gaze. His eyes glowed, amber-gold speckled with hints of deep copper brown; they were entrancing. “If it weren’t for a passing adventurer assisting you, you’d be dead or worse. Even he was worse for wear after the ordeal. Had I not been on my way to the Wangshu Inn, returning from Qingce Village; I wouldn’t have caught wind of your fate at all.”

He paused to let his words sink in, your nearly fatal encounter with a band of treasure hoarders left you severely injured for a few long weeks. You took up residence in the Wangshu Inn to rehabilitate. While you were recovering, you made it your mission to avoid Xiao. It didn’t help when you bumped into him in the kitchen upon making yourself one of your favorite meals from Monstadt. You made him promise not to tell Zhongli but, he simply told you he didn’t have to. It perplexed you nonetheless as he took his leave, only to later find out that Zhongli was just a few hours away from reaching the inn. He would’ve told him anyways. When he saw you and the state those greedy treasure hoarders left you in, he took a personalized trip to the East of Luhua Pool. Once he returned, he took very good care to you, until you were well enough to discuss the means of your broken contract back in Liyue. The time had come and so, there you both were. He placed his tea down in front of him and looked to you for a proper response, something you found quite difficult to do without saying something that would undoubtedly make this serious man irritable.

“I don’t think I did anything wrong.” You replied, Zhongli sat there, his eyes searching your face for any signs of a jest. You were serious, he couldn’t stop a faint laugh from moving past his lips as he took in what you said. You decided to follow up with it to not seem so stubborn in your ways, it didn’t really help. “Meaning, I took the commission well within the means to do so in our contract.” As you finished your statement, the Archon God stared at you blankly. It was mainly due to the astonishment of what you had just said; it left him a little speechless. Were you really trying to get through a loophole in this contract? While sitting in front of the God of Contracts himself— in the middle of the conversation no less; as well as being in the midst of discussing a fitting punishment? More importantly, was it a valid claim? Zhongli took a moment to ponder it over, his hand moving under his chin as you took a sip of your own tea. You had a sly smile on your face but it faded the moment he looked your way. He caught it in his peripheral though, but refrained from commenting on it.

“You aren’t wrong,” he began, lowering his hand and letting it rest flat on the table by his tea. “However, in the contract we made, it was stated that you would never throw away your life for a commission that would inevitably put you in a position where you can’t properly defend yourself. You did all of that to retrieve a worthless scroll for Lan? Did you really believe that facing an entire band of treasure hoarders in their hideout was worth more than your life?” He genuinely asked, knowing he caught you. You looked away from him with a light pout. When the scroll reached Lan, she told you it was the wrong one and after careful analysis by Zhongli and an Archeologist it was found out to also be a decoy and a fake. Which meant no reward for the commission and the initial request still being up for grabs for any other Adventurer out there. You could understand where Zhongli’s worry and vexation was stemming from. He sighed out and leaned back in his seat; arms folding over his chest as he looked at you. “I’m not angry at you but displeased by the way you don’t think things through. Which is why we made this contract in the first place, I worry about your safety more than you will ever know.” As you met his gaze his expression was soft, which made you feel warm inside. His eyes lowered a bit and a placid expression layered itself on his face. “So?” He said “How shall we go about giving you the proper punishment? It would seem you can only learn the hard way for this isn’t the first time.” He eyed you and under his stare rosy pink blush dusted your cheeks. In any case, he wanted an answer from you that you weren’t too sure how to give.

“I would rather you come up with it, I wouldn’t come up with anything just.” You admitted, he made you read a thick ancient text on the meaning of life once and it was absolute torture. You didn’t retain any of it having fallen asleep more times than you can count. However, when it was still fresh in your mind you were able to recite what Zhongli asked for when he mentioned something about the key points of the passage on the 600th page. When you proposed the idea, he was a bit unsure how he should go about admonition. As he pondered it over, he watched you take a sip from the warm tea he had brewed for you both prior to your current conversation. You licked your lips as you savored the taste of the flowery sweet minty beverage. A refined taste for those who partake in the ritual of tea time, it was then Zhongli realized something. You two hadn’t done anything promiscuous since before you took the commission on. Given his work and the fact that you were injured as well as the hiccups in finding out the authenticity of the scroll and dealing with treasure hoarders; it left little time to be intimate with each other. Zhongli had not thought about it until he was able to be alone with you. Pent up wasn’t even close to what he would describe what he was feeling in that very moment. As he shifted in his seat he let out an exasperated sigh, a gloved finger tapping down idly on the surface of the table you two sat across.

“I see, I’ve thought of something just now.” He said, faint smirk tugging shyly at the corner of his lips. You looked at him, your eyes searching his face for his usual stern and stoic expression. When you found something more playful you looked a little lost. He caught your stare the eye contact you made caused heat to rise to your face.

“What is it?” You asked, wanting to know. Zhongli stood and let his hands rest flat on the table as he did so, before folding them back over his chest.

“I have work to do, the day isn’t over yet.” He ignored your question, a crease formed in his brow as well as yours. What the hell was he thinking? You could rarely get a full read on this man. His mystique held the wisdom of someone who had lived for several millennia. He looked down at you, seeing you trying to figure him out was comical. “You should relax for the rest of the day, soak in a mineral bath with healing geo salt rocks, eat a nice meal. With the earnings from the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, I’ve bought oils and incense. Use them at your leisure and I will see you later tonight; a bit after the sun sets over Liyue Harbor.” As he spoke he walked over to the door, you weren’t sure what he was getting at but, a day to yourself didn’t sound too bad.

“Zhongli.” You say, before he walked out the door you sent a smile his way, to thank him for his kindness and care and even for his worry. “I love you.” He paused in the doorway, staring back at you with eyes slightly ajar. Your words were exactly what he needed to hear. He strolled back over to you to place a kiss on the top of your head. Eyes closing as he breathed in your sweet scent, your hair tickling his nose and chin.

“I love you too, I’ll see you tonight.” He let out an ominously light chuckle and you looked up at him with quizzical eyes. Almost asking him what was so funny, he glanced down at you and his eyes narrowed slightly. “We’ll discuss your punishment then.” With one more kiss to the top of your head he left for the remainder of the day. You sat there in anticipation, you wondered why he was being so lenient about your punishment. You almost died, how was he still not vexed with you for being so careless? Maybe he was and your charm worked better then you gave yourself enough credit for. He’d likely just have you read again and that wasn’t so bad. Whatever the case may be, you took him up on all the things he had suggested before he left. Those geo salts were truly a blessing from the Geo Archon they soothed every ache and pain you had within minutes of soaking in a nice hot in ground bath. As you did, it made you wonder what Zhongli had in store for you. The sun was nearly close to setting over the horizon of Liyue Harbor, you missed his company and the way he’d look at you with such love and adoration. He may have been unhappy with your rather reckless behavior when it came to your adventuring but, you knew you could crack his stone exterior and weasel your way into a lenient punishment — his soft spot for you was ridiculous. You only wished that he’d touch you, with a little convincing and a bit of teasing you’d have him wrapped around your finger for the night. While you soaked in the in ground bath you plotted, the warm water relaxing your body as you waited for the Archon God to return home and into your arms.

[slytherinwh0re]

Fresh linen, daisies, and a hint of honey

Draco Malfoy x female reader AU

Warnings: SMUT (18+ minors dni), a little fluff and maybe a swear word or two?

Summary: Where Draco has a crush on a girl and becomes her partner for a potions assignment.

Masterlist

*Draco’s POV*

The things I would do to that girl if she would just give me the time of day. I’m not quite sure why it happened, one day I noticed (y/n) walking down the hall with her friends and ever since I can’t seem to shake the image of her from my head, it’s no question she’s beautiful.

I have plenty of girls throwing themselves at me but why isn’t she? I mean I am Draco Malfoy. 

The witch has never even glanced in my direction and I know she knows who I am, we’ve had many classes together over the years and well, everyone knows who I am. I would never say it out loud but it truly bothers me that (y/n) seems to be the only person in Hogwarts who doesn’t care about being in my presence. It makes it much worse that I think I may even have a tiny crush on the girl. 

***

There she is, walking into our potions class right past me like I don’t even exist. I have to stop myself from staring at her for most the class. The girl makes it so hard for me to concentrate and she doesn’t even know it, luckily I’m godlike at potions or who knows what my marks would look like.

I’m not sure what it is about her that pulls me in so much. (Y/n)’s easily the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen but I don’t think that’s the only thing keeping my eyes on her. She’s also very kind, always smiling at every twit she comes in contact with and she seems to have this air around her that just reels you in.

“(Y/l/n), since you’re struggling so much you’ll work with Malfoy.”

Did I just hear Snape correctly?

I see her pick up her belongings and make her way over to the empty seat right next to mine. As soon as she sits down all I smell is fresh linen, daises, and something sweet. She turn to look at me with a small smile on her face and stretches out her hand.

“I’m (y/n) (y/l/n), we’ve never properly met.”

I look at her hand, a bit shocked at first but after a second I’m taking it into my much larger one. Her skin is soft.

“I’m Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.” I smirk at the pretty girl in front of me.

“I know.” She smiles wider. “I’m sorry in advance for how bad I am at potions.” Her cheeks turn pink and she turns back towards the front, listening to the rest of Snape’s instructions on our assignment. We had a week to figure out how to make amortentia, a powerful love potion.

As the class was coming to an end (y/n) turns back to me “So I was thinking we could actually start the assignment tonight? I could meet you in the library once my classes are over for the day?”

“Sounds good to me (y/l/n), I’ll see you later.” I wink at her and start heading to my next class.

***

Finally classes are over, all I could think about was how tonight would go and I may be slightly excited to see (y/n) again. I walked to the library as quickly as possible and to my surprise she was already at the entrance looking slightly disappointed.

“Hey (y/l/n), what’s with the long face?”

“It seems everyone had the same idea, there isn’t a single work table open.” She has the cutest little frown on her face.

“Well if you’re okay with it, we could always go to my dorm. I have a private one, being a prefect and all.” I like the idea of having her in my room but I wouldn’t want her to feel uncomfortable. She seems to think about it for a second and then shrugs her shoulders.

“Lead the way Malfoy.”

Once we get to my dorm we start setting up all the different ingredients and materials we’ll need on my work table. I could be imagining it but I swear I catch her glancing at me every once in a while out the corner of my eye. Not that I’m any better.

After the third time the potion explodes she lets out a frustrated sigh.

“Hey it’s okay, we still have all week to figure it out.”

“I know I just wish I wasn’t so useless at potions, maybe then we would’ve made a little progress.” She’s pouting.

“If it makes you feel any better, you’re a way better partner than Crabbe or Goyle.” She starts to laugh and I can’t help but smile at how beautiful she looks. Once she settles down she still has a little smile on her face and I feel good knowing I’m the one who caused it.

“I should get going, it’s past curfew.” She says starting to put away the materials but I lightly grab her hand to stop her.

“You could just leave everything and we could work here from now on.” I scratch my head, nervous to hear what she says. She smiles and nods her head in agreement, picking up her bag from my bed.

“Well I should go.”

“Come on, I’ll walk you to your room.” I think I see her blush but it’s too dark in the hallway to be sure. We make our way to her room in silence, the only sound is our quiet footsteps as we approach her door.

“Thank you for walking me back Draco.” My breath hitches in my throat, no one calls me Draco other than mum and father but it sounds like velvet coming from her lips. I must look as stunned as I feel because then she quickly adds, “I mean Malfoy.” (Y/n) looks so nervous thinking I’m angry but in reality I just want to hear her say it again so I just shake my head.

“It’s okay, you can call me Draco.” This time I’m positive I see a blush on her cheek.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, have a good night (y/n).” I smirk at the blushing girl.

“Goodnight Draco.” Before I even know what’s happening she stands on her tiptoes, grabs my shoulders and plants a short kiss on my cheek, with a little smirk of her own she turns and disappears behind the door.

I smile the entire walk back to my room.

***

When I walk into potions the next day (y/n)’s already sitting at the table I usually sit at. As soon as she sees me she smiles brightly making me smile back.

“Hi Draco, we still on for today?”

“Yeah of course, you can just come to my room whenever you’re ready.”

“All right, I’ll probably change into comfier clothes before heading over.” She says, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her in anything other than her school uniform and robes.

***

I’m laying in my bed waiting for (y/n) and I can’t help but think about her kissing my cheek last night. What did it mean? I decided she was probably just being nice but I wouldn’t hate it if she did it again.

Finally she knocks on the door and I open it up to see her clutching her books to her chest, smiling, as per usual. Once she steps in my room I see she’s wearing jeans and a comfy looking black tshirt, even in such simple clothes the girl outshines everyone.

Once again we worked for hours on the potion and still no progress. However I really enjoyed myself, hanging out with (y/n) was more fun than I could have imagined. She’s funny and so sweet, I don’t know that I could ever grow tired of being near her.

Just like last night I walked her back to her room and to my pleasure she kissed my cheek again, this time a tad closer to the corner of my mouth.

***

The rest of the week went the same, she’d come to my room, we’d work on the assignment, I’d walk her to her room and then she’d kiss my cheek, a little closer to my lips each night. Now it’s Sunday and we have to turn the potion into Snape tomorrow.

“Draco I think we finally did it! If I put in this last ingredient and it doesn’t explode we’ve done it.”

She drops in the last ingredient and the mix starts to steam. (Y/n) squeals in delight and throws her arms around my neck but before I can even move she let go and starts doing a happy dance around my room making me laugh.

“Go smell the potion before you hurt yourself.” I tell the dancing girl. She makes her way over to the cauldron and takes a big whiff, making my heart pound against my chest.

“I smell apples, expensive cologne, and maybe mint?” I can tell she’s confused. “It smells exactly like you Draco. What does that mean?”

“Amortentia is a love potion, whatever the potion smells like to you is the smell of what, or who, you find most desirable.” I sniff the potion, looking right at (y/n) who’s bright red at this point. “For instance I smell fresh linen, daises, and a hint of honey. Sound familiar?”

The beautiful witch is lost for words as I get closer and closer. When I finally reach her I pull her small body flush against mine, putting my face in the crook of her neck and giving it a feathery light kiss.

“You’re an exact match.” I whisper in her ear making her shudder. I start to pepper light kisses on her neck making her moan softly.

“Let me show you just how much I desire you (y/n).” I pull back to see her reaction. She puts her arms around my neck and pulls me down until her lips are an inch away from my ear.

“Kiss me already Draco.”

It takes exactly one second for me to have her pressed against me again, this time with my lips on hers. I start walking us forward until the back of her legs hit my bed and she falls back, the sight of her laying on my emerald sheets has my pants tightening by the second.

She moves so she’s kneeling on the bed, eyes level with mine. She starts unbuttoning my uniform shirt, her (y/e/c) eyes never looking away from mine. Once she has my shirt all the way off she puts her small hands on my shoulders slowly moving them down my chest until they reach my abs making me groan, her hands are so soft.

I reach for the hem of her shirt, pausing to look at her for permission. She nods so I push the shirt over her head, revealing a black lace bra.

She moves one of her hands behind her back and unclasps the material around her chest, removing a strap from each arm and finally letting it fall to the floor by my feet. I take her in for a while, not quite believing that the girl of my dreams is allowing me to be with her this way.

“You’re beautiful (y/n).” With that my mouth is back on hers, our bare chests pressed together. I skim my tongue on her bottom lip asking for permission when I feel the little minx smirking into the kiss, keeping her lips sealed. Two can play that game, I bring my hand down on her ass causing her to gasp, allowing enough room for my tongue to tangle with hers.

I lightly push her back onto the bed, immediately climbing over her. I start laying kisses down her neck, sucking on the skin, wanting her to remember who made her feel this good. I go lower until I reach her jeans, once I unbutton them I tap her hip so I can slide them off her long legs.

“Are you sure about this love?”

“Hurry up Malfoy.” She demands.

“Yes ma’am.” I hook my finger in her underwear pulling them down as slow as possible just so I could watch her squirm. I haven’t even touched her and she’s already soaked, the thought makes me smirk as I settle in between her legs.

I start kissing the inside of her thighs, placing them behind my shoulders. I leave small marks as I get closer to her core.

“Draco, please. I need you to touch me.” Fuck, that was hot.

“I want you to watch (y/n), if you look away I won’t let you finish, understood?” She nods her head vigorously, eyes locked on mine.

I lick a bold stripe up her slick folds making her grab my hair and let out the sexiest moan I’ve ever heard. This girl is driving me mad and she barely even touched me.

I slowly start tracing figure eights on her clit making her squirm, I put one of my hands flat on her stomach to hold her down, with the other I circle a finger at her entrance before sinking it into her. Her eyes never leaving mine.

She moans my name and I’ve decided I would do this everyday if she allowed me, just so I could hear my name come out her mouth like that.

I sink another finger into her, thrusting them faster as her legs begin to shake. I can tell she’s close, she’s having a hard time keeping her eyes open.

“I’m gonna c-” she let’s go before she can even finish her sentence. She throws her head back screaming my name as I flick my tongue over her. When she comes down from her high I pull my fingers out and she watches as I lick them clean, a small smile on her lips.

I get off the bed taking my pants and boxers off, my dick hitting my stomach. I grab a condom from my drawer but her hand stops me before I rip it open.

“Let me do it.” (Y/n) grabs the condom from my hand and rips the foil open with her teeth, slowly rolling it onto me. Feeling her soft hands on me makes me hiss.

“Are you ready?” I line myself up at her entrance, when she nods her head I push myself in. She’s absolutely soaked. Her legs wrap around my waist as I hold her body as close to mine as possible.

“You feel so bloody good.” I moan into her neck as her nails dig into my back. Her little whimpers encouraging me to go faster.

I grab one of her legs and pull it over my shoulder, the new angle making her scream. I smirk at how thoroughly fucked the sweet girl below me looks as I wrap my hand around her delicate throat, her tits bouncing up and down with the force of my thrusts.

I push her leg down and flip her body so she’s laying on her stomach. I don’t even have to say anything, she’s already lifting her hips off the bed and parting her legs so I could fit inbetween them. I’m going to marry this girl one day.

With her ass in the air like that I can’t help but smack it before slamming back into her. (Y/n) buries her face in my sheets as I reach around to rub her clit.

“I’m close Draco.”

“Cum for me love. Let go, I’ve got you.” And that’s all it take for her to be pushed over the edge. Her walls tighten around me as she moans my name, my thrusts become sloppy and I’m seeing stars as I cum into the condom.

Once I get myself cleaned up I go back to the bed and pull the tired girl close to my chest, kissing the top of her head.

“Let me take you on a date tomorrow.” I break the silence.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

[conniespringerblkwife]

Betrayed... Again (Final)

(Eren Jaeger x Female Marleyan Reader | NSFW)

Part 1, Part 2, Series List

Series

A/N: This story will have slight season 4 anime spoilers, if you have not watched it. For the last time, I am not pro-Marleyan, just a story that came to mind. Also I want to thank the people who supported my story. It will be great if you guys could leave feedback.

Warnings: Slight Spoilers, Angst, Smut: Female oral (receiving), Fingering, Rough sex, Over stimulation

Summary: Nurse Y/N thinks the people of Paradis are growing on her. Is it because of their ignorance? Or is it because she is in love with one of them.

*3,305 words*

Songs I listened to while writing:

TiO (Take it Off) by Zayn

The commander would occasionally lift up their glasses as they read a book about Eldian history. They offered you tea but you declined because you didn't trust them; you didn't trust any of these people. You then wondered if there were others that were kidnapped just like you on this island. If you could find your people, you can probably come up with a plan to get out of here.

"How much do you know about Eldian history Nurse Y/n?" The commander asked you as they lifted their glasses for the nth time. You stayed silent. You didn't need to say anything to this devil. Also how come they didn't know anything about the Eldian history? Arent they technically Eldians?

The commander then spoke again, "Nurse Y/N, I think we can be friends and work together. Aren't you a nurse? Dont you want to help people?"

"Help my people, not you island devils." you scoffed and crossed your arms as your eyes traveled to the floor. "What do you want?"

"I'm curious to what kind of history you learned over in Marley to make you guys hate us so much." This made you look up.

"You seriously don't know." They stared at you blankly and that's when you knew they were telling the truth. "You're ancestors betrayed us Eldians in Marley." You said sternly, "We have been oppressed for thousands of years and you get to be hidden behind walls, unaware of the tragedies your ancestors have committed."

You were now looking at them and they splayed their hands across the table. "But that was a thousand years ago? What about the people now? The millions of people that lost their lives? Why did they have to die?" The way they innocently asked these questions made you sick to your stomach. You couldn't believe they were serious about everything coming out of their mouths.

Before you could say anything else, Levi walked in. "I'm taking Nurse Y/n back to her cell. Get some rest Ha-Commander." You heard him stuttered over his words, and you assumed he was trying not to say the commander's name.

Walking through the hallways with Levi back to your cell was silent, until you stopped and turned to him. "Levi, do your people really not know anything?" He continued walking and you rolled your eyes as you followed along.

You were now in your cell as you sat on the edge of the hard bed staring at the floor. "Even if what you know is true or not, it's not like that anymore. My comrades didn't sacrifice their life for this." Levi said and then left you with only the light from the candle flickering.

Your stared at the ceiling as you laid in bed, thinking about your childhood.

In Marley, once you turned a certain age, you need to start thinking about what you want to do with the rest of your life. Some thought about becoming a warrior or a teacher, but you decided to become a nurse.

The moment you chose that for yourself, that's all you were taught. You took history classes, but it taught you the same phrase that was pounded into you since you were brought into this world. "You must serve Marleyans if you want to end oppression" or "The Eldians on the island are devils."

You hated Marleyans, but you were taught that it was your ancestors fault so you had to serve them in order to atone for their sins. You always wondered if the traitors were the reason why Eldians on Marley suffered. Maybe if they all were dead, your people could be free.

You thought about how your mother would make sure you had your armband on before going out to the public. You have heard horrible stories about Eldians being punished for forgetting their armbands or wearing them wrong. You didn't know why you were crying, but you couldn't help the tears spill and run down the sides of your temples into your hair because you were laying on your back. You then heard someone whisper your name and your head quickly shot up. It was Eren.

Your heart leaped out of your chest as you stared at the man before you. He was wearing an olive shirt with black pants and his hair still in a bun. You threw your legs to the side of the bed and walked towards him. You wrapped your hands around the bars and pressed your face between the gap. "Eren what are you doing here?"

He walked closer to you, "I'm here to see you, now stand back." You noticed he had a key in his hand and wondered how he got it. He opened your cell and next thing you knew you were in his arms.

Your head smuggled in his chest as you involuntarily sniffed him and noticed he had an earthy scent.

"I'll be leaving in a few days," He whispered against the top of your head. You pulled away and looked into his emotionless eyes.

"Where are you going?" Your fists scrunched up the sides of his shirt.

"To finished what I started." You knew exactly what he meant, and before you could protest, he was kissing you. Then there you were again melting in his arms, as you pulled him to your chest.

Eren gently pushed you onto the bed and slid his hands under your shirt to circle his thumbs around your nipples, while squeezing the outside flesh. Your legs wrapped around his waist as you grounded against his clothed erection. "Eren," you said his name in a breathy tone when you felt him kiss and suck on your neck.

Your gown was now scrunched up to your waist as he kneaded your thighs with his huge calloused hands. His hands slowly maneuvering to your waist, teasing the band of your underwear. One of his hands slid over your clothed folds and rubbed it gently while his other hand played with your left breast. You started to squirm from his slow intimate touches. You just wanted him inside of you. "Eren please....I just want you."

"Just wait a little longer. I want to savor you." He took off his shirt and settled himself between your legs. He pulled your panties down your ankles and kissed your inner thigh. Eren brought his face to your heat and licked your slit up and down, then circling around your clit. You grabbed his hair and wrapped your legs around his shoulders.

He slowly entered two fingers inside of you, stretching you out slowy as you pulled at his hair. The man admired the way your pretty hole swallowed his fingers.

You felt his hair tickle the skin inside of your thigh as he continued thrusting his fingers in and out of you.

You pulled at his hair to let him know his fingers wasn't enough and that you wanted more of him. "Eren please...I want all of you."

He scissored your opening and met your pleading eyes. "Be specific" His voice slicked with lust, causing you to clench around his fingers.

"I want you inside of me." You whined.

"What do you want inside of you love." He wanted you to beg for him. He wanted to know if you submit yourself to him, all of yourself, no matter what.

"I want...I want your dick inside of me." As if a switch went off, Eren removed his fingers and pushed himself inside of you, giving you no time to adjust from his fingers to his girth. (Girth is such a funny word to me, I couldn't stop laughing)

You knew you were far gone as you watched Eren moved in and out of you at a rapid pace. Marley Y/n slowly crumbled at each of his thrusts. Your pride nearly faltered as he whispered dirty words in your ear and proceeded to kiss and suck your neck, marking his territory. You were his, you belonged to him. You were drunk off of Eren, and you didn't care.

Your brain was now fuzzy after having an intense orgasm that you didn't realize Eren came inside of you.

But he still didn't stop as pounded into you and rubbed your sensitive clit. You clawed at his back from the over stimulation and you could see the steam of him healing.

Eren collapsed on top of your body and slid his hands to your back. His ear rested on your chest as he listened to your rapid heartbeat; his breath fanning your exposed skin. "I love you." He said softly as you slowly drifted off to sleep.

You were startled awake as you felt cold water splash you. You were greeted by Levi holding a barrel that once had water. "Get up." He said coldly.

As you stood up, your legs almost gave out on you and last nights events came back to you and you felt your face heat up in response. You also noticed Eren was gone, he must've left after you fell asleep. "You've been asleep for half the day." He stated and you noticed he had clothes in his hands. "Put this on." He said and left the room.

It was another gown, you noticed, but this one was scratchy.

You and Levi were once again walking through a hallway in silence. But this time he was the one to speak up, "Eren's gone...Have any idea where he could be?" Your heart pounded against your chest at his words. He said he would be leaving in a couple days.

"No. I haven't seen him." You didn't know why you lied. Well it wasn't a whole lie you didn't know anything about Eren's plans.

"No need to lie if the evidence is all over your neck. " Your hand went to your neck instinctively and you knew it was because Eren marked it up. Before you could explain yourself, the blonde boy from earlier was running towards you two. "Levi!!" he rested his hands at his knees trying to catch his breath. "One of the rooms blew up and Chief Darius was there.." He paused and looked down, "He didn't make it." He then stood up, his breathing now calmed, "There were a few survivors but are wounded very badly and we need help." He then looked over at me, "Arent you a nurse?"

You nodded your head and he continued. "Can you please help?" You made contact with his blue eyes that threatened to spill with tears.

"I can try."

The man laid unconscious on the floor and you took note of the burnt patches that littered his arms, he was lucky there weren't any on his face, just a few scratches.

You kneeled down beside the man examining the intensity of his wounds. "He would heal soon." You looked around the room for any oils and noticed they didn't have any. "Do you have any oils or remedies?" The all looked at you in confusion as if you were speaking a foreign language. You realized that Paradis was not advanced in their society, the consequences of living secluded behind the walls.

"Do you have water and cloths." You had to resort to an older method that would probably take the healing process longer. After you received the items, you wrapped the man's arms with the wet cloths.

'Thank you," The blonde hair boy said to you. "I'm Armin." He held out his hand and you took it, you felt nothing hostile coming from the boy. Was perhaps these people were growing on you?

You sat out on a balcony alone (You didn't plan on running away after Levi threatened to slice your throat) staring out into the distance thinking. You thought about everything. You thought about if everything you learned in Marley was all a lie. The hatred that has been built into your brain to despised the people on Paradis. What if that was a reason to keep you all divided? You were just a nurse, you weren't a warrior, you wasn't capable of fighting. All you could do was help after the destruction not during.

You didn't realize Armin and another person walked in, until they sat in the open chairs on the side of you. On the right was a woman with black short hair and a scar on her face. She was so beautiful.

"Nurse Y/N this is Mikasa." Armin introduced her and you two greeted each other with a nod. "Have you heard anything from Eren?" Armin spoke and you looked away.

"No."

"Please, we know he was with you last." His eyes lingered to your neck and you both looked away blushing.

"He just told me he would be leaving in a couple days and that he had to finish what he started." You whispered, "And then we made love."

You noticed the the black haired woman clenched her fists after you said the last part. "Come with us Y/n." She then said.

As you three were leaving, you all heard a crash from one of the rooms, followed by shouting. Armin and the woman rushed towards it and you followed along. You were greeted by a blonde girl trying to stab another little girl with brown hair. Mikasa was quick to grab her arm while Armin snatched the knife from her hand.

On the side there was a little blonde boy laying unconscious, and you immediately recognized him. "Falco?" Tears threatened to spill as you rushed to his side. "What happened to him!" Half of his head was bleeding and you noticed he smelled like wine.

"I'm sorry, " You heard someone say from the corner. Why was there so many people from Marley here, you thought. You recognized the man that spoke, it was Niccolo. He would prepare dinner for the staff and patients in the hospital back in Marley. "Niccolo what did you do?" You said sternly. His head was now in his hands as he sobbed.

"He protected me." You heard the brown haired girl whisper.

"WHY!!! WHY DID YOU KILL HER!! SHE WAS NOTHING BUT KIND!!" The blonde girl screeched clawing at Mikasas tight hold.

As if the situation couldn't get worse, the devil himself, pranced in. Eren. It was as if time slowed down as you all watched him lift up his hand that was slit and had blood dripping from it. "Mikasa, Armin, Y/n, I have to tell you something."

"Eren." You breathed out his name.

You, Eren, Mikasa, and Armin sat at a round table with your hands on top because he threatened to kill you if you didn't.

"Eren what are you doing?" Armin spoke up first.

"I need to tell you guys something." Eren responded. You took this time to get a good look at his face. His eyes were cold as he stared at the blonde boy. He was slightly pale and looked like he haven't slept in days, but he looked fine yesterday you thought.

"What made you go attack Marley on your own Eren?" Armin spoke again and a lump caught in your throat as you remeber the tragedy that took place not that long ago. Eren stayed silent and his eyes now rested on the table. "Did Zeke and Yelena really trick you into joining them?"

"I am free." Eren finally said and me, Armin, and Mikasa looked at each other in confusion. "The choices I make are decided from my own free will."

"Eren don't listen to them, you're being manipulated." Mikasa spoke this time, her voice straining. "You killed kids and other innocent lives Eren!" Her deep black eyes flickered to yours. "And you even fell for one of them." You looked away tears threatening to fall. "I know you care about us more than anyone!" She was now out of her chair and pulled at her red scarf, "Eren you are kind! I know you're not like this! Remember when you gave me your scarf..."

"Hands on the table Mikasa." He interrupted her, "I had a brother to brother talk with Zeke and knows a lot more about titans than Marley."

-You furrowed your eyebrows, brother to brother? Zeke as in Zeke...Jaeger. Your mouth hanged slightly agape from this realization.

"Armin you still visit Annie don't you?" He focused his attention to Armin and you noticed how his jaw flexed. "Do you think that's your own free will?"

The blonde boy's eyes were now blown wide while Eren continued, "If memories are what shaped people, part of you is Bertholdt...Within you is the enemy with feelings for another enemy."

"Eren." you croaked your vision blurry, but the tears wouldn't fall.

"You have been manipulated by the enemy Armin."

"Eren thats enough!"Mikasa shouted.

"You too, Mikasa!!!" He shouted back causing you to flinch. You gripped at your gown to calm yourself. "The moment I told you to fight your instincts were awakened...Your people were designed to protect Eldia's King."

"No, you're wrong...It was because of you Eren." Her mouth hanged agape as tears spilled from her eyes.

"Those who aren't free live like livestock." He paused, "I always hated you Mikasa. I hate you for living like a slave, willing to obey any orders I give. IT disgusts me. You disgust me."

"Eren!!!" The blonde pounced on top of the table with rage, but was then slammed to his stomach by Mikasa. The boy gasped as he looked up at her.

"Your entire life has been a waste because you didnt make your own choices." Eren spoke again but calmly and Mikasa let go of Armin as if she realized that what he has said so far may be true.

Armin took this oppurtunity to land a punch to his face. You quickly got out of your chair because the table flipped over. Before Armin could get another punch in, Eren hit him twice as hard and threw him against the case of wine. The whole shelf came tumbling down and you knew the blonde boy wasn't going to win. Eren continued punching his face with all of his strength and his face started to swell up rapidly. All you could do was watch. This wasn't Eren. "You know why we never fought before." Eren grabbed him by his shirt and kneed him in his stomach, "Because it wouldn't be a fair fight." He threw the boy to the ground. You could barely see his blue eyes anymore.

You don't know what compelled you to rush to the boy, but you found yourself checking his neck for a pulse. He was still breathing but was unconscious as you rested your hands on the side of his puffy face. "What is wrong with you?" you said, then looked up. Your tear filled eyes met with Eren's cold ones. "I thought you cared about us?" You rubbed the blonde boy's hair. "You're the real slave." You spit out and he scoffed.

"Who you calling a slave?" He clenched his fist, "You betrayed your home because you fell in love foolishly believing that I actually cared about you." Your heart dropped hearing his words. "Let's go." He said to a few people, assuming that they are on his side. "And bring the kid that killed Sasha." You forgot the kids were still here and you watched as the girl with brown hair was hauled away as she kicked her feet.

You watched as Eren left the room. The blonde boy head rested in your lap and all you felt was nothing. You weren't mad nor sad. You were just nothing. You wish you could feel one emotion, but you couldn't. "It was all a lie." The words fell from your lips as you replayed Eren's words in your mind.

You were betrayed...again.

*

*

*

Follow me on Instagram @//jungjaehoe127

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Among Us: Crewmate Impulse getting an imposter voted out on a hunch, except this time the "hunch" is actually just Ghost Tango somehow yelling at him from the dead loud enough to influence his subconscious/code (this idea brought to you by: rewatching vods from before Tango got his compressor lol)

yeaaaa so this one is gonna have a LOT of caps in it lol i hope that’s okay. i’ll put a cw in the tags as well just in case

also i want to share the fact that this google doc is labelled “Tangy yell” lmfao

…

Impulse is standing at the upload panel when Tango enters admin to do his card swipe. The two exchange “hey”s at the entrance, before Tango heads over to stand at the admin table.

The last thing he sees before his vision goes black is the image of a figure popping out of the vent in the corner.

Tango sits bolt upright with a gasp. “Gaah! Skizz, what the hell?! That was the stupidest thing ever! Impulse is-!”

He breaks off as he spots Impulse turning away and leaving the upload panel without even turning to check the rest of the room.

“Hey,” says Joker, floating through the wall to join Tango in admin. “How’s it-.”

“Are you KIDDING me, Impulse?!”

Joker winces and covers his ears. “God, man… You need a compressor.”

“Impulse was RIGHT there!” Tango bellows, flinging his arms out towards his dead body over and over again. “He was standing FIVE FEET away from me! How did he not even notice I DIED?!”

“Tango!” Astro, who has just entered the room through the wall, yelps. “Inside voices, please!”

Crossing his arms, Tango floats furiously in the middle of the room, his upper half sticking out of the admin table, steaming so hard that he can almost feel actual steam rising off his transparent ghosty body.

“And I thought I was bad at noticing bodies,” grumbles Tango. “‘Least I’ve never had someone die five feet behind me and just left without checking if the person behind me two seconds ago is still alive. Stupid Impulse and stupid Skizz with his stupid face. I hate ‘em. I hate their stupid faces.”

“You might feel a bit better if you decided to do some tasks,” Astro says pointedly, finishing his upload. “So, you know, we have a chance of winning?”

“Don’t patronise me, Zoan.”

Just as Tango turns away, his dead body is finally reported. At the meeting, Tango has to just sit silently and watch as everyone discusses where they saw him last.

“I saw him in admin a minute or so ago,” Impulse reports. “But he was alive when I left.”

Astro winces, already knowing what’s coming.

“ARE YOU MOTHERFRICKING KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW, IMPULSE?!”

Sure enough, Tango’s subsequent roar shatters the ghosts’ eardrums.

“YOU ONLY THINK I WAS ALIVE WHEN YOU LEFT BECAUSE YOU WERE- YOU DIDN’T- OH MY GOD, IMPULSE!” Tango face is as red as a tomato, the blood vessels sticking out of his neck despite being dead. “HOW CAN ONE PERSON BE SO UNOBSERVANT?! SKIZZ LITERALLY VENTED! INTO THE ROOM! AND KILLED ME! THEN VENTED OUT AGAIN! UNDER YOUR MOTHERFRICKING NOSE! AND YOU DIDN’T EVEN CHECK ON ME BEFORE YOU LEF-!”

Tango’s voice cracks and he breaks into a fit of coughing.

“Oh my GOD, Tango, you need to take it down like a billion notches!” Joker rubs his ears in pain. “Or get a compressor or something, dude! You’re giving me a headache and I’m DEAD.”

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.” Tango lets out a prolonged funny noise, unable to do much else with his now sore throat. “Hate. Hate you all.”

“Stop talking before you lose your voice completely,” Astro says in a dad-like way. “You can get some water when we’re back in the lobby. Just take a moment to-.”

“Oh my god, guys, listen to the meeting,” interrupts Joker suddenly. “Listen!”

“-can’t explain why,” Impulse is saying. “I just think it’s Skizz. I mean, not only does he not have an alibi but also he says he just went into navigation, which has a vent leading from admin outside it.”

“Oh c’mon, that’s circumstantial,” retorts Skizz.

“I feel it in my bones, dude. I just have a hunch that it’s you.”

Astro turns to Tango with an impressed expression. “Dude, I think you yelled at him so loudly that your voice crossed the border between life and death.”

“Good,” croaks Tango hoarsely. “I hate him.”

“You know what, I’ll buy that,” Brody says in response to Impulse’s accusations. “I haven’t seen Skizz all game and he hasn’t really tried to be helpful at all lately, so I’ll vote him off, sure.”

“Oh come on!” Skizz snaps. “Really?”

Impulse nods. “Yup, cuz I know you’re the imposter.”

“As Tango would say: negative!”

“You said he only says that when he’s imposter.”

Skizz opens his mouth but apparently can’t find anything to say back to that.

Tango watches with a certain amount of satisfaction as Skizz is voted off the ship. With the sheriffing of Endless earlier in the game, the round ends and everyone is sent back to the lobby.

Tango immediately storms up to Skizz and glares at him. Skizz gives a chuckle as he gets up off the seat. “Hey, buddy. That was a really good kill, you gotta admit.”

All Tango can do in reply is glare at him.

“Tango lost his voice from screaming at you guys,” Astro explains with a grin.

“Wait, he can’t talk?” Skizz snorts. “That’s hilarious.”

His face twisted in a furious expression, Tango makes a wringing-neck hand movement at Skizz, who laughs and takes a step back. “Oh man, you’re REALLY mad.”

Nodding firmly, Tango turns to Impulse. He jabs his finger at his best friend, then draws it across his neck.

“Why’s he mad at ME?!” yelps Impulse.

“Because I vented into admin, killed him, and vented out again right under your nose,”Skizz snickers.

Impulse’s eyes widen. “No way…!”

“And you left the room without checking on him so you thought he was still alive when you left,” adds Astro. “As he kept saying. Or yelling, rather. Many times.”

“Ohhhhhhh noooooooo…!” Impulse gives his best friend an apologetic grimace. “I’m so sorry, Tango! I had no idea, man.”

Clearly still furious, Tango jabs his finger at him, then makes the same neck-wringing gesture at Impulse, before finally throwing his hands up in frustration.

“I, uh… I think we might need to take a break and get Tango some water,” Impulse says sheepishly.

Tango opens his mouth and dissolves into another fit of coughing.

“...and some cough drops.”

“I’m gonna have permanent hearing loss after that,” grumbles Joker, still rubbing his ears. “I swear to god, I’m not playing with you again until you get a compressor.”

Tango gives him an apologetic and slightly sheepish look.

“So wait, what exactly happened there?” asks Etho suddenly. “Impulse, you had no information and then suddenly you were saying it was Skizz. What happened there?”

“I literally heard Tango’s voice in my ear,” Impulse explains. “It sounded like he was yelling and I didn’t hear full sentences, only bits and pieces. I heard “Skizz”, “kill”, and “vent”. So I put two and two together.”

“Your voice was so strong that it broke through the beyond and reached the realm of the living,” Skizz snickers. “I can’t even be mad about that; that’s pretty awesome. But bro. Joker’s right; you desperately need a compressor.”

Tango rolls his eyes, wishing his friends would stop saying that.

“Anyway, let’s take five and meet back here after,” says Impulse. “Tango, let’s get you some water.”

Etho watches the two of them leave the lobby together, before sitting down on the floor and leaning his head back against the wall. He doesn’t know how it’s possible that Tango managed to get through to Impulse despite being separated by death, but he does know that this can’t be good. There’s a reason the living can’t hear the dead.

Or maybe he’s just thinking too hard about it. If there’s anyone out there who can yell loud enough to make someone who shouldn’t be able to hear him hear him, it’s TangoTek.

Maybe they really do need to get him that compressor.

[lovecinnatwist]

How would you go about writing omega Jason with Alpha Dick?

Man oh man- Omega!Jason with Alpha!Dick is always such a bop.

It depends really! I see so many fics with insecure Jason thinking Dick is too good for him which is nice and definitely in character- but sometimes it makes me crave the other end of the spectrum?

Like a confident, sexy Jason who teases Dick with his scent and body until the alpha wants to implode? I also like the idea of Jason being raised by an Omeganist!Alfred and Omega!Talia to be badass, sassy and sensual. Bras? Suppressants? Painful heats?

Not for Jason Todd!

He embraces his Omega-ninity and it wreaks havoc on Dick's hormones. Dick being a more conservative alpha would definitely find himself overwhelmed but enamored!

Here's something playful with a clumsy Alpha!Dick and confident pack Omega!Jason!

Tiddies Out - JayDick

Tags: Omegaverse, AlphaDick, OmegaJason, Pining, Crack treated Seriously, Lactating, Heat Cycles, Omega Tim, Alpha Bruce, Pup Damian- Just Dick being an obvious pining idiot and Jason enjoying his reactions-

Jason doesn’t mind being an omega. How could he when it’s one of the superior options? While Alpha’s often lost themselves to aggression during rutting season and beta’s scrambled to placate them- Omega’s got to sit back and watch the show.

Being the object of an alpha’s fascination has many perks. First off? The gifts. Lavish offerings make their way to him with little to no effort. Weaponry from Talia, Expensive silks and poisons from Ras, The latest tech from Tim and Bruce. It's an endless parade really. One of the few things that make this more bearable to put up with.

He’s a heavy milker. Always has been.

Maybe it’s from growing up in an abusive household. Perhaps it's in response to being closer to the pack’s pups or hell, maybe his body is just gearing up for the imaginary children it wants to have. Regardless of the reason Jason’s tits are aching.

They seem extra tender tonight. The cold dingy air does little to ease the tension under his armor. He shifts and the way his pads squish under bullet proof chest plates is a pain. He curses and tries to ignore it. Something that’s getting harder as the cotton under his clothing reaches its limit. Tsk- 4 hours his ass. It’s barely been 2 and he’s about to make a mess of his gear.

As annoying as it is. He reluctantly reaches into his kit to get two fresh napkins to change. Other omega’s might be shy to do this in public but Jason has always been more practical about it. Breasts are breasts, no reason to get all crazy about it.

Though it probably didn’t hurt that Jason himself had a nice rack. He knows what the other heroes say about him behind his back. His figure has never been more appreciated than now in his prime. The dip in the pit did wonders at helping him bulk up. Thighs thick, emphasising his trim waist. In the throws of season his ample chest gives him an illusion of an hourglass figure. While some people would say omega’s should be small and dainty, he has yet to meet an alpha or beta who can resist him.

Not to be vain but he is nothing else if not attractive.

He’s got his top half way off when the sound of a near violent thud echoes out in the darkness. The hiss of pain gives away the alpha before his scent can. Jason doesn’t even turn in his direction. Instead he keeps his attention on the sopping pads under the compression shirt. He hisses as the gentle adhesive pulls from his throbbing mamories.

“ You alright over there goldie? “

He gets a groan for an answer. A nicer person would have maybe let the other man know about his current state of undress. Too bad that Jason isn’t exactly known for being ‘nice’. He carefully wraps up one cotton cloth. Once he’s clean and dry, he applies another. It’s quick and easy work. The slight chill does wonders against his flush skin.

The worn form of Nightwing crawls from the side of the building. There’s a pretty good bruise on his cheek Jason is 90% sure that the acrobat had a less than graceful landing. He’s always been weird about nudity. Even back when they mostly had the same parts. He rolls his eyes as the man pointedly tries not to look at him. He can’t help scoffing at the false modesty.

“ Hood. You shouldn’t do this out in the open like this. Anyone could see you. “

Everyone knows Jason is an omega, by extension that means Red Hood. It’s one of the reasons why his territory is so well protected. No one wants to cross an omega. While the fangs in their mouths were now more for scruffing kits, no one had forgotten the days when they were for hunting prey and tearing out throats.

He would flash his at Dick but he’s wearing his helmet and would probably just looks stupid. He manages to get the other pad off. It’s absolutely drenched. His left teet is definitely working harder than the right. The sheer weight of the cotton makes a loud squelch as it hits the little plastic bag at his feet.

He snorts. “ And you know what they’d say N? Best tits in Gotham. “

The alpha’s face is anything but amused. The furrow of his brow and spike in his scent is territorial and aggressive. It’s laughable really considering the fact that between the two of them, Jason is actually the one in charge of protecting the pack. It’s all a part of being the lead omega.

Whether Bruce or Dick want to accept it or not.

“ Stop objectifying yourself like that. “

Jason enjoys the feeling of being clean and dry as he gets the other cotton adhesive on. It’s a welcome sensation. Especially when he straightens his armor and it’s a little less chafing and tight.

“ It’s only objectication if I say I’m only a nice pair of tits Wing. Luckily I’ve got a nice set of thighs too.“

He pays Dick no mind as he stands and packs away his used pads to be thrown away later. He might have to call it an early night at the rate. With the way fall is quickly approaching his heat is just dying to make an appearance. Perhaps he could get away with offering himself to the foster system. With the amount of milk he’s making now it would be better for the pups who need it to benefit instead of it all going to the trash.

“ Hood! “ The sound is a scandalized growl. It’s funny enough that Jason throws his head back and laughs free and clear. With the voice modulator it’s mean and menacing. Amusement bubbles in his chest. He can’t help taking off his helmet so that Dick can take in just how wide his smile is.

“ Sorry Wing. I’m a pretty girl. What can I say? “

Talia is nothing but progressive. While many omega’s in the west suffer from low self esteem. Jason learned his worth quickly. Confidence is beauty. The more one loves themselves, adores them selves and takes time to know themselves the more they blossom. It’s a deep healing that not everyone gets to understand. A privilege for a few chosen omegas. He cocks his head and smiles and see’s the exact moment Dick starts losing his footing in the conversation.

The alpha is tongue tied.

“ That’s not what I mean and you know it Hood. “

Jason shrugs. Once he’s got his stuff away he’s ready to run roofs and actually get some work done.

“ Sorry Goldie. It’s 2021 and haven’t you heard? Red Hood says free the tiddies. “

He doesn’t wait for a response as he makes a running start towards the edge of the building. It’s always such a thrill. He tucks a bit to clear the gap. The moment his legs touch the concrete the sound is silent despite the bulk of his frame. Dick calls after him but he loses the words in the wind. Laughter bubbles up in his throat. He wouldn’t be a prude just because his family wanted to be sexually repressed more than they wanted to be happy.

Dick doesn’t try to catch up with him and Jason finishes the night patrolling with Tim and Stephanie.

He manages to get an entire three hours out of the next set of pads. Instead of changing out in the open he accepts Alfred’s invitation back at the manor for a warm bath and cookies. Tim stares at his chest while Jason gets himself decent.

Tim is a gorgeous omega, with a slender petite frame and porcelain doll-like features. He always seems to get shy in the presence of Jason’s more unconventional curves.

Jason knows what low self esteem looks like. The younger omega wears it no matter how much bravo he tries to exude. Jason brushes against him briefly and lightly. His usual fragrance is marshmellowy from the sweetness of milk that clings to it.

There’s an immediate blush as Tim ducks away. Clearly he’s embarrassed from being caught. Though in reality where is the shame in a little boob appreciation amongst omegas?

“ You know Timmy, you gotta stop wearing bras. Maybe if you show a glimpse of those pretty pink nips Kon would take the hint. “

Tim goes red from his ears to his chest. Jason can practically see the steam coming from his ears. He slaps his hands over his petite breast quick enough to hurt. Jason wants to let him scamper off but instead he presses into his space even more. Long gone is the perfume of pup, now that Tim has come fully into his omega hood. Every day his scent leans more and more towards caramel and sugar.

“ Uhg you’re such a jerk. “

Tim tries to dodge out of his hold but Jason gets him anyway. The omega yelps and Jason ducks him right between each swollen peck. They are red and tender from patrol. He hasn’t put on new pads yet so some milk beads at his nipples. The little shriek Tim lets out is hilarious.

“ You’re going to get milk in my hair! Jason stop- God you suck- “

The omega fights and Jason lets him go before the two actually get into it. It’s light and playful. Well for the most part. Tim gets some milk on his face and the teen honest to God looks terrified. He curses all the way to the shower stall to take another quick bath all while Jason cackles at his misfortune.

“ I swear to God, when I start milking I'm going to get you back Ten fold! “

Jason rolls his eyes. As if.The last thing Jason’s afraid of is milk. It’s a natural thing. God everyone in this pack is repressed.

“ We’ll see about that Timberella! “

The omega hisses and Jason has to hold back a laugh as he leaves the shower. He’s so light and high from the interaction that he completely for gos a shirt. Not that he really wants to wear one. Not with how milk heavy and tender his chest is. Alfred’s always been pretty cool about it too. Being from the 60’s and all that jazz.

Jason maybe gets half way through the cave before the sound of metal crashing draws his attention. Dick walks cleanly into one of the metal tables in the middle of the lab space, knocking over tools and gadgets.

Bruce is thoroughly unimpressed from where he’s helping Damian stretch before bed. He’s in half of his costume, suppressors and scent blockers gone. The sheer disappointment in Damian’s gaze is astonishing.

“ Richard, please control yourself. “

The alpha looks like a deer caught in headlights, his mortification absolutely palpable in the air.

Jason does catch his eyes on his chest though. He smirks and sees the moment horror grows in those bright blue eyes. Instead of heading towards the stairs he decides to circle back towards the group.

Bruce chuffs from his position on the floor. He doesn’t stop what he’s doing but does tilt towards him in reverence. It’s been the biggest change in their dynamic. Bruce finally learning to respect Jason as not only a pack mate, but the pack omega. He greets him with a scenting.

Unlike Dick the alpha seems to pay little attention to his milking.

Damian’s puppy nose twitches as he leans towards him. It makes his heart flutter really. While Damian would never ask, Jason has thought of offering his breast many times. While Technically too old for it, they’ve all done their fair share of growing up too quickly. Something that Jason Laments as well as appreciates.

He scents Damian more thoroughly than Bruce, making him bristle. The boy tries to move out of his hold, hands swatting him away.

“ Todd cease your pestering immediately! If I smell of milk my peers will assume I still breastfeed. “

Jason snorts and pulls back from the prickly pup. Bruce gets a stupid fond look on his face and for a brief moment he feels it echoing on his lips.

“ And what’s wrong with that? If your pack omega is milking of course as a pup you’re welcome to it. “

Damian’s green eyes widen a fraction. His mouth opens in disbelief. Clearly, Damian in fact did not know that. Bruce stares as well, his scent turning into a sweet blend of ‘love-admiration-awe’. It draws a shiver up Jason’s spine. The tender mix of affection from his pack blankets over him like a net of spun sugar.

Jason doesn’t know why he feels drawn to look at Dick. The alpha hasn’t said anything in the past minute. He cuts his gaze to the stone still alpha and his heart flutters in excitement. The looks of jealousy and want is so strong that his intentions sparkle clear like aquamarine in shallow ocean waters.

The alpha is so much more honest when he thinks Jason isn’t looking.

He grins at Dick.

The alpha immediately shrinks in shame and embarrassment.

“ And of course any alpha spending my heat with me. “

[butwhyduh]

Sickening

You looked at the blood in your sink. It was becoming sticky and rust colored at the edge. It probably wasn’t a lot but it certainly looked like it. The fact that you weren’t exactly sure who’s it was made you feel sick. You closed your eyes and grabbed some towels to clean it.

After spraying your sink heavily with antiseptic, you scrubbed your hands clean and left the room. Your boyfriend laid out on the couch. Normally you found it a little funny the way his long body would hang over the arm. Now you were worried.

“Jason,” you asked. What is going on? He sighed and rubbed his eyes.

“I got in a fight. It’s no big deal. You know how assholes in Gotham are,” he said. As if to emphasize his point, the sound of police sirens sounded close by. Yeah, this place was rough.

And Jason certainly looked like he had recently been in a fight. His knuckles were red and raw. He had a bruise blooming on his forearm. And his grey shirt had little specks of black that you couldn’t help but wonder was blood.

“Why are you always covered in bruises? Is that the assholes in Gotham?” You asked, sitting on the coffee table.

“You could say that,” he muttered under his breath. “I guess people just want to punch me. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

“You need a bath,” you said. “I’ll throw your clothing in the wash.”

“I’m fine-“

“You’re covered in blood and I’m not sure it’s yours,” you said. Jason slowly rose from the couch and you see that he favored one shoulder over the other one when pushing up. Probably also bruised. Or worse.

He all but stumbled into the bathroom. You started a hot bath. Your small apartment didn’t have a shower attachment. Jason roughly pushed off his boots before grimacing as he pulled off his shirt and threw it in your tiny washing machine. That one was a gift from him that somehow your landlord was totally cool with despite being a complete ass.

His shoulder had nasty red and purple splotches of bruises and there was a small bloody area. He shoved his belt open and pushed off his pants and socks. Jason slid into the tub. He groaned. His long leg had his knees sticking out of the water almost comically.

You bent down and sat on the old tile floor. Someone, probably in the 1920s or something, had out tiny little white hexagon tiles all over the floor next to the claw foot tub. You grabbed a cup and started pouring water on Jason’s chest. He hissed before relaxing. Steam from the tub rose in the cold room.

“I worry about you. Worry what you’re doing. Why you won’t tell me what you’re doing. That you’re in trouble or something. Do you owe a gang money or something? Who hit you?” You asked softly. Deathstroke, Jason thought but he certainly couldn’t tell you that. His hard look soften a little.

“I don’t owe a gang money. Nothin like that,” he said. He couldn’t help but look at your face. You were too pretty, too innocent, too good for his world. He didn’t want you in this. Hell, he shouldn’t have talked to you in the first place because no one lasted long in his life. Jason knew that taking you on a date had been selfish. And everything after that was him being too weak to do the right damn thing.

You took the cup and poured water over his hair. The slight pink color had you grimacing. You didn’t push your questions. It was something Jason loved about you. He was a hard nut to crack and usually what worked best was time and space.

You grabbed your shampoo rather than Jason’s to wash his hair. There was no way that you were going to use his ‘mountain bear scented 4 in one shampoo, conditioner, body wash, motor oil’ when trying to pamper him.

You’d never washed his hair before. He’d definitely never let anyone close to washing him. Shower sex, great. But never something non-sexual and intimate as just being bathed. You ran your fingers through his hair letting the soap rub in. Jason literally felt goosebumps on his skin and he closed his eyes and leaned into your hand. You were the only person that he let touch him and high key, this was the best relaxation he’s ever remembered feeling. You ran your hands through his hair longer that necessary but you could tell that he wasn’t complaining. He groaned a little.

You poured the water over his head and was pleasantly surprised that the water was soapy but clear. At least there wasn’t a lot of blood in his hair. Jason bent and washed his face in the water. He had more stubble growing than he usually did.

“Do you wanna shave your face? I can do it,” you offered. For a fraction of a second his brow creased before he gave you a half smile.

“Not today. I’m good. Thank you,” Jason said holding your hand. He couldn’t exactly say that he didn’t trust anyone with any kind of blade near his face.

“Are you okay? Tell me what’s going on,” You said reaching a hand to his other cheek. His jaw clenched a little and his eyes almost looked hurt. He was thinking of all the people who had died because they knew a secret. Other vigilantes who’d lost their entire families for knowing their secret identity. But at the same time, Jason knew that you wouldn’t stay around forever and the lies were growing. He was going to do one more little selfish thing. He sighed deeply.

“I’ve gotta tell you something but I don’t want to scare you,” he said and his eyes showed so much worry and fear. He genuinely thought he might lose you over this.

“Scare me? Jay, what are you talking about?” You said confused. He inhaled nervously.

“I- I’m Red Hood! Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to say it so loud,” he said. Jason’s eyes searched your face. Your eyes were wide and you were frozen. His breath was all over the place in absolute fear. It was only a few seconds but he prayed for you to speak.

“Did you just say that you’re Red Hood?” You said faintly. Red Hood was infamous. Brutally murdered gang members, rapists, and traffickers. Even once famously fought the dark knight himself. The one continued theme of everything you heard: cold, cruel, and highly deadly. If you saw Red Hood, it was probably the worst day of your life, if not your last.

“Uh... yeah? Yes.” He gulped and watched you. His blue eyes were so round and worried.

“No. I can’t believe that,” you said. Jason, who would read Jane Eyr to you, that fed stray cats outside of the apartment, and was literally the sweetest boyfriend couldn’t be this killer. He looked down with a sarcastic smile.

“I’m Red Hood. That’s me. If you don’t believe me, there is a Glock 26 Gen 4 strapped to my bedside table. There are a few more around,” he said motioning around the apartment.

“You keep stuff here?” You asked with a mad look. Your head was spinning.

“No. Just some protection. None of the Hood stuff is ever here. I don’t want anything that could be found in this apartment. All the stuff here is new and never fired besides a few practice rounds. I try to be as safe as possible so you are never in danger,” he emphasized. You both sat in silence for a few minutes. The only movement was Jason’s fingers running along your hand.

“Why? Why do you do it? Be the Red Hood?” You asked finally. He expected that question but not right away.

“I should probably tell you how it started,” Jason said and he didn’t hold back. He told you about his parents, attempting to steal the rims from the batmobile, becoming Bruce Wayne’s ward, becoming Robin, being killed by the Joker, the lazareth pit, and becoming the Red Hood. By the time he was done, the water was cold and your legs were numb. “That’s why I have bruises and scars. Why I leave sometimes or miss dates.”

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. He gave you a look of confusion. What could you possibly be sorry for? “You shouldn’t have gone through that. You shouldn’t have needed to hide it from me. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t scare you? You don’t want to run from a murderer?” Jason asked. His eyes searched yours for signs of fear or disgust.

“Is it really murder if they are evil? Or justice?” You said slowly and he winced at that word. Bruce certainly wouldn’t agree. “Every time I hear the question ‘would you kill baby Hitler’ I would. Without question. I would shoot a baby because I would be thinking about 6 million Jews and unknown others that died because of him. The bad guys always get out and make things so much worse.

“You’re going to have to tell me where all the weapons are here. I’m paranoid that I’m going to reach in the couch and grab a sword,” you said with a laugh, standing up. Sure, you were shocked. But that wasn’t going to make you run screaming into the night. Or maybe you were in shock? You’d find out in the morning.

“Swords are more my brother’s thing,” he said with a laugh. “I’ll show you. I’ve been wanting to teach you some self defense too.”

“We’ll get back to your brother being into swords later. But first, let’s get you out of that wet ass tub and into bed. Because I can’t process any more information tonight,” you said handing Jason a towel. He obviously favored his right shoulder when dressing in sweatpants before coming to the bed where he flopped down. The lights in the bathroom flickered and you rolled your eyes. That’s Gotham for you.

“I’ll fix that tomorrow,” Jason said quietly.

“Nevermind that. Do you want an ice pack?”

“No. I want you,” he said and you smiled a little before crawling in the bed. Jason moved around to lay with his head next to your chest snuggling close. It was almost comical the way the big man hugged you and laid in your arms. He needed to be close to you even though your arm on his waist made him clench in pain for a second before you moved to a better position.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said quietly. “You’re way too nice to me. Almost gullible. Like Baby, you live this way?” he said with a smile. His sarcastic defense was back up. You rolled your eyes.

“Maybe I’ve got a thing for the whole bad boy thing. Or that I know last week, you had cereal with water and honestly, that’s the ultimate weakness,” you said back and he gave you a rare grin.

“We were out of milk. Like what was I gonna do? Eat it dry? No.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth and he grimaced.

“Sorry. We should get some sleep. It’s super late,” you said.

“Yeah, sleep. Sounds great,” he said already drowsy. “I fucking love you,” he whispered before falling asleep.

[wannabe-fic-writer]

All Over Again - Chapter 4

Summary: What was lost can be found. 

Warning: 18+ Smut, Language, Violence. 

I was in the holiday spirit so I wrote this chapter. Kind of just filler stuff and LOTS of fluff. Enjoy!

Ch. 3

* * * * * *

“Awe, look at you in your fall colors.” You tease.

Wanda laughs, eyes on something ahead of her before she focuses on you,“ Laura gave me the scarf. I didn’t realize how cold it’d be today.”

You find your eyes looking at the window of your hotel,“ is it snowing there?”

Instead of answering, she flips the camera and you see the mix of leaves and snowflakes falling.

As beautiful as National City is, you admit you miss the weather in New York. The snow and leaves falling added to the holiday spirit. The white and shades of red screamed Thanksgiving. 

“You could always come back, at least for the day.” Your friend says, the camera turning back.

With a shake of your head, you tell her,“ I’d never make it back in time. Besides, Lena insisted I spend the day with her.” 

The brunette wiggles her eyebrows playfully. Only for her jaw to drop at the expression on your face.“ Oh my god you like her!”

“What? No.” You try to play it off with a laugh.

Good ole Wanda though, she can read you like a book(without the powers).“ That’s why you were so eager to go back to NC. You have a crush!”

“No I-” do you?

The idea isn’t far fetched. Lena’s an incredibly attractive woman. Intelligent, caring, ambitious, funny, genuine. But you have far too much going on with your emotions to even consider liking someone. Right? 

Were you not just telling Natasha how much it sucks to see her with Bruce? How could you go from hating to see that to suddenly liking someone? Is that really how your emotions are choosing to work?

Escaping the onslaught of thoughts, you find Wanda smirking at you.“ You like her.” She says with a nod and smile. 

“Doesn’t matter whether I do or not. There’s too much going on for me to be exploring something like that.”

She scoffs,“ yeah right. As we speak you’re on vacation. There’s no greater time to explore. And if you like her, you deserve to pursue it. If anyone should get a chance at happiness, it’s you.”

Damn. Could you have asked for a better best friend?

“Have I told you that you’re one of the few things I’m thankful for Wan?”

Blushing a little, she tells you,“ you hadn’t but I knew already. I’m thankful for you too, I-” a sudden swirl of emotions race through her eyes, red magic flickering with it,“ I don’t know what I would’ve done without you these last few years.”

“You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, but I’m glad I could be there for you.”

It’s quiet on her end for a moment before she can pull a smile,“ love you Y/n, Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Love you too Wan and Happy Thanksgiving.”

With an over exaggerated kiss blown to the screen, Wanda hangs up, the lingering picture of her smiling face on your screen before it goes back to the generic wallpapered home screen.

You take a second to yourself, eyes trained on the city outside. 

There may not be any snow, but NC definitely has its own way of showing the holiday spirit. In that, a lot of the skyscrapers have large light displays on them. And where there are trees, the orange, red, and yellow leaves fell from them. 

Eventually, you get up to get ready. Taking a shower and putting on an outfit that reflects the season and holiday. 

Having everything you need, you call a car, waiting for it in the lobby with a cup of coffee. Once in the car, you let Lena know you’re on your way. 

It leaves you a little unnerved when she doesn’t reply as fast as usual. In fact she doesn’t reply at all but her doorman let’s you up so you know she’s home. 

When she pulls her door open and you take in her slightly frazzled state you frown.

“Should I have waited to come by? Is everything okay?” 

Lena’s heart melts at the worried expression on your face, a smile forming,“ no it’s fine I just, I forgot most restaurants are closed on Thanksgiving.”

A gasp leaves your lips,“ Miss Luthor,” you press a hand to your chest,“ take out is not a proper Thanksgiving meal.” 

Her mouth opens to reply but seeing your expression has her keeping it to herself. 

The few nights you’d spent here, you know Lena doesn’t keep her fridge and cupboards stocked.“ Come on, we’re going shopping.”

Lena will admit, she had a bit of a slow moment, wondering what shopping would do to solve the food issue. Arriving at the store though, she realizes you meant grocery shopping. 

Walking around the store with you pushing the cart is probably the most domestic thing Lena’s done in a long time. She finds herself falling in deeper with you as she sees how, almost childlike you are: riding on the cart every so often, throwing completely unnecessary snacks inside, and doing small little celebratory fist pumps when you find exactly what you need.

“Okay,” Lena breaks the quiet,“ are you secretly a chef outside of being an Avenger?” 

Currently the two of you stand in her kitchen, smooth jazz playing through the room’s speakers, Lena’s usual glass of wine on the counter mere inches from your glass of bourbon, as you prepare dinner. Admittedly Lena isn’t all that good at cooking, so she’s slightly fascinated with how easily you move about. 

You raise an eyebrow, fingers sprinkling seasoning over the Cornish Hens,“ what’d you mean?” 

“I just- you seem to be really good at this.” She gestures to you and the spread of food in front of you. 

Shrugging, you tell her,“ I just learned from my dad. He literally taught me everything I know.”

There goes that tone again. Your voice sounding far off. You reminiscing.

You slide the pan into the oven, setting a timer, and looking back with a smile, nodding for Lena to come over. 

She stands at your side, arms brushing with every move as you raise the lid off the skillet, steam rising from it,“ now don’t go sharing this recipe with anyone Miss Luthor.”

The CEO chuckles,“ well if it’s good I’ll have to capitalize on it.”

You laugh, eyes shutting with the action. So you miss the look Lena gives you, pride at being the reason you’re laughing and a longing to make that smile last.

From there you tell and show her the way you’d been taught to make yams: nutmeg, brown sugar, vanilla flavor, and butter. Then turning them over so the seasonings reach all the vegetables.

Grabbing a smaller spoon, you scoop some of it up, and hold it out to her. A hum of approval leaves Lena’s lips at the taste of it.

“That’s incredible.”

You watch the way her tongue runs over her lips, catching the remnants of the food, and resisting the urge to reach out and run your thumb across the pink muscle.

Opting to nod and jokingly say,” oh I know.”

She laughs with a shake of her head. 

It goes like that as you continue to cook. Once a dish is done, you give Lena a taste and she tells you how great it is. Until you’re setting it all out on the table in front of where Lena set out the plates and silverware. 

You both fix your plates and refill your drinks before sitting down.

“I’ll admit, this is a million times better than take out.”

While you hadn’t mentioned it before, you have to now,“ please tell me this isn’t the first time you’ve had a home cooked meal for Thanksgiving.”

The CEO shrugs, a sad smile covering her lips as she says,“ well I’ve spent the last two in my office.”

You raise your eyebrows,“ and before then?”

“Meals were made by the chefs. And holidays with my family were usually, well awkward. With the tension between myself and my mother and Lex’s silence. . .”

Reaching over, you cover her hand with yours,“ family can be tough. But from what I’ve seen it seems you have a decent one.”

The brunette looks at you quizzically. Did you not hear what she just said?

“Not the Luthors,” you clarify,“ I mean your chosen family. Kara, Alex, everyone else. They care a lot about you and you love them too.”

Lena smiles fondly at that. It’s true.“ And here I’ve yet to see your family, related and chosen.”

“As far as my given family goes, it’s just me and a few distant cousins. My mom was never around much and my dad passed years ago. Right after I’d graduated college actually.”

There’s the confirmation of her thoughts. Though she wishes it’d come at a different time. 

She tries to lighten the mood,“ chosen?”

“Also complicated,” you chuckle,“ there’s all kinds of dynamics going around with them but we have each other’s backs in the end. I’d give my life for everyone one of them.”

“Anyone in particular?” She finds herself having to ask.

Praying silently that there isn’t. At least not in the way she’s referring to.

You nod with a smile,“ Wanda. She’s my best friend. A sister really. We’ve been close since she joined the team.”

She smiles for two reasons. One: you’re single. Two: it’s cute that you have someone like that. 

Throughout dinner you both joke and talk about lighter topics. Despite the numerous looks you give each other, neither of you catch it. 

When dinner is over(and leftovers are put away) you tackle the dishes and then move to the living room with your dessert. 

“Okay, apple cheesecake. Never knew I needed it.” She says with a chuckle.

Your eyes widen in agreement,“ I know right. Apart from strawberry and classic New York, it’s my favorite.” 

“I’m going to need you to make both of those for me, for research purposes.” She adds the last bit with a wink.

Laughing makes you lean just a little closer and Lena loves it. A quiet buzzing grabs yours and Lena’s attention. 

The woman pulling her phone out.“ Speaking of desserts, my chosen family has an abundance of it and has invited us over.” 

“Ooo, yes, I love desserts.” 

She smiles at you in amusement and together you both get ready to leave, Lena insisting that you bring your cheesecake. 

Unsurprisingly, christmas music is all over the radio on the drive over. You can’t say you expect anything less. 

With Lena at your side, you knock on Kara’s door. The blonde pulling it open in seconds. 

“Lena, Y/n, hi.” She hugs the both of you excitedly. 

“Thank you for inviting us.” Lena tells her friend. 

Stepping into the apartment, without a thought, you’re helping Lena take her coat off as she’s holding your dessert in one hand. With a blush, she thanks you, and you miss the wiggle of Kara’s eyebrows in her direction. 

Mon-El throws a hi your way and everyone else does the same.“ Do I see more desserts?” He leaps up, happily making his way over.

You accept the quick handshake he gives before looking over your shoulder to the pan in Lena’s hands.“ Yeah, Lena says my cheesecake is to die for and it’d be a crime not to share it.” 

The CEO’s jaw drops,“ I did not-” her elbow nudges your arm with a laugh,“ I didn’t say all that.” 

Placing a hand on her shoulder you smile,“ but I could tell that’s what you really meant.”

“So cute.”

Your eyebrows pinch together at Kara’s mumbled words. You and Lena? Could she see your crush on the woman as clearly as Wanda had? Is it that obvious?

Figuring she didn’t intend for anyone to hear that, you refrain from commenting. Instead walking with Mon-El to the kitchen island. 

“I never asked but what is it that you do?” Mon-El asks, head tilting in a way you’d seen Kara do a number of times. 

You accept the glass of water he passes you,“ I’m a weapons specialist for the Avengers, occasionally moonlighting as a hero.”

“Me too.” His eyes widen as does yours. 

“You’re a superhero?” 

The man’s eyes widen, uncertainty flickering through his eyes as they search yours. Then he chuckles and nods,“ yeah. Super being Alien. I’m from Daxam.”

“Daxam.” You’d heard of plenty of planets, never that one.“ Where is Daxam? I’ve been to a few galaxies and planets, I’ve never heard of Daxam.”

He thinks for a moment,“ I’m not sure what galaxy it would be in but it orbited Rao.”

“Rao? Is that like another planet or a sun?” 

Suddenly Kara appears at Mon-El’s side,“ what’re we talking about?” 

You send a glance to Mon-El, wondering if Kara already knows. His nod and pursed lips tells you she does.“ Mon-El was just telling me about Daxam and the-”

“Star.”

“The star it orbits.” 

It’s hard to place the expression on Kara’s face. Mainly because it’s a mix of a few emotions.“ Are you not surprised?”

You shrug,“ I am, just, well I’ve dealt with a number of aliens. Not many of them were good guys.”

Mon-El smiles widely, a matching one on Kara’s face. Little did you know, hearing that from you makes the blonde consider telling you about her heroic alter-ego.

Before she can mention it though, Winn comes sliding over, arms wrapping around you. Looking at him, you see the silverware hanging from his mouth. 

Patting his shoulder, you pull back a little,“ hey buddy, what’s goin on?” 

“This cheesecake is amazing.” His words come out with a little lisp due to the object in his mouth but you laugh nonetheless.

“I’m glad you liked it.” Finally he steps back and nods.“ How bout you show me where the rest of these desserts are.”

Together the two of you step over to the dining table where there’s a decent amount of desserts. You just have to put some of each on your plate.

When you plop down beside Lena she’s already wearing an expression of amusement. Looking at her, you smile softly,“ want some?” Her look of uncertainty makes you chuckle. Scooping a piece of pie up, you hold it towards her. 

Hesitantly she leans in and eats the sweet. Your eyes once again drawn to the way she licks her lips then back to her green orbs. 

“That’s really good.” 

You quickly eat a bite,“ oh wow, it is.”

“So!” All eyes snap to Kara as she walks over with the guys,“ we did this earlier but a few of us weren’t here so we’re going to do it again.” The woman sits on the arm of Mon-El’s chair.“ What are you thankful for?” 

Starting with herself, it goes around the room, until it gets to you.“ I am thankful for old friends and new,” you smile at the already smiling people around you,“ I haven’t known you guys long but you all mean a lot to me and I’m incredibly grateful to have met you all.”

Not being able to help herself, Kara throws her arms around you. Which incites Winn to hug the both of you and that just ends in a big group hug that dissolves in laughter.

* * * * *

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