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worldwidemochiguy · 4 years

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Love You A Latte (MFEEU! Jimin)

➵ You have always wanted a story book romance, no matter how many times your friends tell you it’s unrealistic, and even unhealthy to have such high expectations. You can’t help but yearn for the one who will make your heart sing, who will captivate you with one word, who will treat you like you’re worth more than anything else in the world... and then Park Jimin crashes into your life, with a pretty smile and a warm cup of vanilla latte with your name on it.

➵ Warnings: Yandere Jimin, Stalking, Daddy Kink, Masturbation, Unhealthy Idealisation of Romance

➵ Word Count: 9.1K

➵ MFEEU Masterlist

➵ General Masterlist

➵ a/n: it’s finally here!!! and i made it part of the mfeeu!!!! idk it just felt right also i actually finished this a few weeks ago but i wanted to add a bonus scene which had smut lol. buuut i was finding it hard to write and i didn’t want to make u guys wait any longer :/ so,,, sorry for the wait! but i hope you enjoy :D

“You do realise that kind of stuff isn’t real, right?”

Your head jerked up, fingers curling slightly around the dog-eared page you were just about to turn, leading you deeper into the intoxicatingly perfect story. Your friend looked almost concerned, worry digging a groove in between her eyebrows.

“Huh?” You replied absently, mind still fixed on the story beneath your fingertips.

“I mean, you’re always reading those books, where a perfect guy comes and steals the girl away into a world of love and happiness and all that crap. You know that won’t actually happen to you, right?”

“…Uh, yeah?” You laughed nervously, one hand releasing the book to come up and brush your hair out of your eyes. “Any particular reason why you’re saying this, Buttercup?”

Buttercup’s expression was pinched, almost painfully so.

“I just… I don’t want you to waste your life away waiting for a guy who’ll never come.”

‘I know.” You said, your throat uncomfortably dry, “I know. It’s just… it’s nice to imagine, right?”

Watching you was the most treasured part of Jimin’s day. Thanks to the multiple cameras he had installed in your apartment while you were out of town, he was able to spend many happy hours watching you, completely besotted.

If he ever missed you, maybe while you were in your classes or meeting with your friends in that ridiculous coffee shop — a practice he planned to stop as soon as he officially became your boyfriend — he could just open his laptop and watch endless saved recordings of you. He even had the cameras linked to his computer at work, though he had to make sure Jungkook wouldn’t peak over his shoulder as he opened the webcam viewer, the nosy little brat.

If he was lucky, you might have danced around to the music on the radio while you were waiting for the kettle to boil, or you would be on your couch, giggling as you read one of those romance novels you were so fond of. Little things. Domestic things, which made it easy to image the day when you would dance around in his apartment, safe and happy in his embrace.

Jimin was thankful you didn’t spend much time in the bathroom. He had refrained from placing cameras in that room because he wanted the first time he saw your beautiful body to be a conscious choice on your part. He would also do his best to avert his eyes whenever you got changed in your bedroom.

However, that didn’t stop him from shamefully imaging you in the privacy of his own penthouse apartment, when the nights became long and lonely without you, or any other human company. More often than he would like to admit, Jimin found himself fantasising about how tight you’d feel clenched around him, how sweet your release would taste on his tongue.

Though the two of you had never actually spoken, Jimin knew everything about you, from your favourite colour to the way you had your eggs in the morning. From a little extra research, made easy by your friends’ various social medias and the occasional overworked college administrator that was sweet-talked into giving out students’ personal information, he knew your birthday, your blood type, and many other precious facts that he wrote down in a diary personally devoted to you, containing his photos of you taken from afar and and Jimin’s records of what you did that day. He had filled up several diaries after having first laid eyes on you only a year ago.

The moment Jimin saw you for the first time was forever burned into his memory. He was waiting in front of the office building, checking his briefcase to make sure he had remembered to bring an important file in for that day’s meeting, when the shopping bag of a passerby had broken, spilling all of their belongings onto the ground.

Jimin had merely watched, unperturbed, as the stranger struggled to pick everything up, and it appeared everyone else was content to do the same. Well, everyone except you.

You descended like an angel from heaven, the only one to help him. Jimin could barely feel his heart pounding in his chest, he was so enraptured by your beauty, your kindness, the grace with which you held yourself. Even your scent, wafted over to him by a blessed breeze, was enough to make Jimin realise that you were the one for him.

The only one there could ever be.

Jimin had listened, captivated, as you comforted the stranger with your melodic voice, all the while helping them to collect their possessions which had spilled out across the sidewalk. You were just- ethereal, as you comforted the stranger — they seemed to be having a bad day, not that Jimin cared at all — introducing yourself as a friend. Your name was the most beautiful thing Jimin had ever heard.

Jimin repeated that name over and over again in his head, and with little difficulty he located you and immersed himself in your life. He had to make sure that when he ‘met’ you, he would not be like that bumbling stranger, too weak to even reply to your kind words. He needed you to realise immediately that he was the one for you, your soulmate, as you were his.

Jimin grinned as his laptop started up again, finally fully charged up. When he woke he discovered that the battery had died as he had it playing all night while he slept. Jimin loved linking it to the live stream while you were asleep and then listening to your cute mumbles and sleepy groans, imagining that you were lying beside him, safely wrapped in his arms.

Usually, he would remember to plug it in so that it wouldn’t run out of charge, but Jimin had been a little distracted that night after you released some… strange noises in your sleep, noises that sounded like moans. Jimin was glad you didn’t say a name — he really didn’t have time to murder someone, what with all the workload on his hands — though your moans slightly tarnished his innocent vision of you.

Jimin knew you were undefiled, a fact that brought him great delight and daily erections. He knew this because during that dark period several months ago when you had that despicable ‘boyfriend’ hanging around you, a constant source of contention between you and him was the fact that you wouldn’t let the bastard touch you.

After he drunkenly attempted to pressure you into making out with him on your couch — a proposal you strongly rejected much to Jimin’s delight — the drunk asshole had left you, sobbing into your hands, to ‘get his dick wet’ elsewhere.

It really was too easy for Jimin to follow him out that evening. To knock him unconscious and then drag him into his rundown car. To place his heavy leg on the accelerator and let it speed into a tree, and watch him regain consciousness a second before the car collided and a branch fell through the windshield, stabbing him in the chest.

Jimin watched it all, and smiled, knowing you were safe from that monstrous son of a bitch. You were safe from everyone, as long as he was there to protect you. Not that you knew it yet, of course.

The cops ruled it as an accident caused by drunk driving, a verdict supported by your testimony of his behaviour earlier that night and his general reputation as an irresponsible party-goer. How that scumbag ever got you to go out with him was beyond Jimin, especially given all the work Jimin was putting in to even be worthy of your attention.

But it didn’t matter. After the death of your boyfriend, Jimin watched as you became happier, rising out of the depression that asshole had put you in. Though, to his consternation, you were spending more time with other people, even widening your previously small friendship group, it was worth it given that he was able to see your bright, joyful smile all the more often.

Jimin let out a groan of frustration as the livestream continued to take its sweet time loading. Thankfully, he had a day off today so he didn’t have to worry about being late to work, not that Taehyung was particularly strict about that sort of thing.

It was now 10 in the morning, a Saturday, so according to the rough schedule Jimin had worked out, scrawled on the inside cover of his diary and imprinted into his brain, you should be just starting to wake up. You were a bit of a late riser, but that just made Jimin love you all the more, imagining lazy mornings filled with kisses and pillow fights that devolved into indulgent morning sex.

An excited grin spread across his face when the picture finally cleared and he got to see your beautiful face. The grin dimmed slightly when he saw you were just putting the finishing touches to your outfit, seemingly leaving your apartment to go somewhere. Jimin scowled.

Who did you have to meet that was so important you would wake up specially to see them? He hurriedly got dressed, eyes still pinned on the live feed which made putting on his trousers a tad more difficult than usual.

Thankfully, he was able to be out of the door more or less the same time you were. He followed the now well-trodden route of shortcuts and back alleys that led to your apartment. Or rather, the road across from your apartment.

Jimin followed a block behind you, baseball cap pulled low over his face so you didn’t recognise him, watching as you strolled along the avenues, smiling to himself whenever you saw a pile of autumn-tinted leaves and jumped into them, creating a cacophony of crackles which made you giggle cutely. He almost regretted not bringing his camera to capture these adorable moments, but he knew it would look strange to the other pedestrians if they saw him following behind you taking photos.

Jimin finally realised where you were headed with a bittersweet smile. The coffee shop you loved, The Roasted Bean, which you frequented with your friends. He was hesitant to go in there, worried that your friends, stupid though they were, would notice his constant presence and poison you against him.

He couldn’t resist strolling up to the window, though. Watching as your face brightened when you saw your friends (who had already ordered without you, the ungrateful swine). He imagined a similar look appearing on your face whenever you saw him — except happier, because obviously you would be more excited to see your boyfriend rather than your friends. Maybe when he was coming home from work to greet you in your and his’ shared apartment.

A handwritten note stuck to the window distracted him from his reverence, something which originally irritated him but what he soon realised was in fact a blessing. The ‘help wanted’ sign, proclaiming that the shop needed a new barista, and that they didn’t mind if the applicant had no previous experience, was all Jimin needed to situate himself in your life.

After all, if he started working at the cursed coffee shop, he would get to see you every day when you visited in the mornings, and after that Jimin was sure it wouldn’t take long to make you fall in love with him.

Of course, if Jimin wanted to get the job at the coffee shop, he would have to do something about his proper, full-time job.

“Uh, Taehyung?”

Two heads popped up as Jimin knocked on the office door. They must have been having a meeting. Fuck, Jimin really didn’t want to have this conversation with Jungkook as a witness, but it seemed he had no choice as Taehyung waved him in and Jungkook showed no sign of getting up. On the contrary, he settled into the office chair and looked for all the world as if he wanted a bag of popcorn to snack on while he watched the conversation.

“What’s up?” Taehyung asked, and Jimin felt a slight lick of heat paint itself across his cheeks. He cleared his throat and pointedly ignored Jungkook’s snort.

“I want to cash in my vacation days.”

“Oh, really?” Taehyung’s brows flick up, “It’s… September. Shouldn’t you save them for… I don’t know, summer?”

“No, I want to use them now.” Jimin asserted, and Taehyung gave a puzzled little frown, before shrugging.

“Okay, well, there’s a a form you’ll have to fill in. How long are you thinking, a week? Two?”

“About two months, I think.” Jimin said, less confident than he would have liked, and Taehyung’s jaw dropped.

“Two months? Why on earth do you want to take two months off all of a sudden?” Taehyung asked incredulously, before his expression sobered abruptly. “Is there something wrong with your health?”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that, Taehyung-ah, don’t worry.” Jimin assured his friend quickly, “I just… want to pursue something else for a while, that’s all.”

“Want to pursue someone else, you mean.” Jungkook cackled, obviously casting off his role as a spectator, and Jimin fought to keep his expression unmoved. “You’ve been bright red ever since you stepped into this office.”

“It’s… warm.” Jimin muttered, and he wasn’t wrong, his cheeks certainly were warm at that point.

“It’s September, Jiminie,” Jungkook laughed, “and you’ve got a crush!”

“Is it true, Jimin-ah?” Taehyung asked delightedly, “You’ve found someone?”

“That’s hyung to you, brat.” Jimin snarled at Jungkook, ignoring Taehyung’s coos and his shouts to his girlfriend to come into the office. Jungkook stuck his tongue out at Jimin.

“Wow, look, hyung’s blushing.” Jungkook announced, before walking over to the office door and swinging it open. “Hey, everyone, get in here, look how red hyung’s cheeks are! Hyung looks like a strawberry!” Jungkook turned back to Jimin triumphantly as the rest of the boys came to the office to see what all the commotion was about. He gave Jimin a saccharine smile. “Is that better, hyung?”

“Respect your elders, kid.” Yoongi drawled as he reached the office, the rest of the floor in two. “Anyway, what the fuck is happening?”

“Yeah, why did you call me here, Taetae?” Taehyung’s girlfriend asked, who had come in from her section of the office and been promptly tugged onto Taehyung’s lap. He merely stared up at her, utterly besotted. Fuck, is that what Jimin would look like with you? Gross.

“No reason, I just missed you.” Taehyung smiled dopily at her, and she giggled, pressing a quick peck on his cheek and actually, Jimin would murder every single person in this room if you looked at him like that. Maybe affection isn’t so gross, as long as you’re involved.

But then Jungkook crowed, “Jiminie’s in love!” And affection very quickly became intolerable again.

“Shut up.” He snarled as they all begin laughing and cooing at him jokingly, “I’m just going to be leaving the office for a while.”

“What, so you can take a job at her favourite coffee shop and write love notes on her napkins?” Jungkook laughed, and Jimin-

Jimin looked at his shoes and used the age-old logic of if I can’t see them, they can’t see me.

“No-” Hoseok gasped, equally shocked and gleeful, but Jin interrupted him.

“Jimin,” He said calmly, and Jimin could just imagine his lips twitching up and down as he desperately tried not to break into peals of windshield-wipe laughter, “Look me in the eye and tell me you aren’t going to get a job as a barista as an attempt to get a girl.”

“He can’t look you in the eye, he’s too short.” Jungkook whispered, and Jimin generously refrained from hissing at him.

“I-” Jimin stuttered as he looked up and deep into Seokjin’s pitiless eyes, “I’m not-” He started to say, but… honestly no one can lie while looking at Kim Seokjin.

“She’s so cute!” Jimin bursted out, and immediately there was chaos. Several people were yelling. Hoseok somehow produced a bottle of champagne which he must’ve just been, like, carrying around with him, but Jimin simply did not care anymore.

“She’s so fucking cute all the fucking time and she goes to this coffee shop so fucking often, so if I become a barista there then I’ll see her every day! Do you understand?” Jimin asked, before shaking Jungkook — who had risen from his seat in celebration — frantically by the collar. “Every single day, Jungkook!”

“He’s worse than Taehyung!” Jungkook shouted gleefully, and Taehyung — who was still sat on his chair with his girlfriend — frowned.

“I- don’t know if I should be offended or not.”

“You should always be offended when it comes to Jungkook.” Namjoon told him sagely, and Jimin yelled a wordless noise of agreement.

His yell seemed to remind Taehyung of why Jimin came into his office in the first place, and he starts rifling through his desk, having to shift his girlfriend off his lap slightly to do so.

“Here, Jimin- sorry baby, this’ll just take a second — here’s the file for the vacation days.”

Taehyung passed Jimin a sheet of paper, having to lean around Hoseok, who had just started a conga — where the fuck was that music coming from? Who the fuck brought speakers to an office? — to give it to him. “Take as much time as you need.”

“Thanks, Taehyung-ah.” Jimin grinned as he left the office, pausing half-way out the door as he heard Taehyung call his name. He turned around to see his friend grinning at him.

“Good luck, Jimin. I hope it goes well.”

So do I, Jimin thought as he left the building, calling a taxi to take him to his next job, and (hopefully) closer to you.

You sighed as your alarm went off, jolting you from your dream. It was another romantic one — what a surprise, your friends would probably mutter sarcastically — but it truly hurt your heart to let it drift as your mind fully woke up. That was always the way. Real life coming to interrupt what you dreamed your life could be.

Another sigh escaped your lips as you imagined him. The one who starred in all your dog-eared romance novels, who would sweep you of your feet and take care of you, both in the bedroom and out of it.

In your head, you knew that you should probably want to be self-reliant and independent, values that your family and friends and teachers tried to drill into you, but you couldn’t help creating day dreams of a man whom you could trust enough to let yourself be truly submissive to him, to allow him to make all of the difficult decisions and comfort you when you got upset.

You used to be certain you would find him, your soulmate who would do anything for you, who would be endeared instead of weirded out by your odd quirks, who would love you no matter what happened, but to be honest you were starting to lose hope. With the disaster of your first ever relationship — the one that ended abruptly with his death — you vowed to stay away from boys until you found the one.

This inevitably led to you spending more time indoors and refusing whenever your friends wanted you to join them in going to all the hottest clubs, simply because you were tired of the whole thing. By now, you had pretty much accepted that you would die a spinster surrounded by fourteen cats.

Your alarm blared again, somehow more grating and obtrusive than the first time, and your eyes flicked to the analog display, swearing quietly when you saw the time. You stumbled out of bed, internally cursing the day you decided to sign up to an early morning lecture class, a bizarre decision considering you were so much not a morning person that you gave Garfield a run for his money.

Speed-walking to class, you were thankfully ahead of schedule since you managed to get dressed at the speed of light, forgoing any kind of beauty routine beyond jamming a toothbrush in your mouth and scrubbing frantically. By a rare stroke of luck, this class was quite small so not many people would bear witness to the horror that was bare-faced you with partial bed-head.

Since you, surprisingly, had more than enough time, you decided to pop into your favourite coffee shop. The familiar tinkling bell went off as you entered but, instead of greeting your favourite barista Rosa at the counter with a sunny smile and your usual order already prepared, you came face to face with the most beautiful man you had ever seen in your life.

You locked eyes with him and watched, awestruck, as his full, pillow lips tugged up into a smile, exposing his perfect teeth. His eyes almost disappeared as he grinned, turning into twin crescents above mochi cheeks, so soft and adorable that you felt all the thoughts you ever had fly out of your head, all replaced by one overwhelming sense of… something.

Something strange, that you had never felt before, which made your knees weaken imperceptibly as you made your way to the counter, closer to this Adonis in human form.

He obviously noted your flustered state, which only intensified your embarrassment, and his adorable expression melted into a smirk that had your heart racing and your libido awakening with a vengeance. It was just unfair. The barista somehow managed to be cuter than any puppy you had ever seen in your goddamn life, and then turn you on more than you thought was physically possible.

If this was what a sexual awakening was, you didn’t know how people managed to refrain from having sex all day, every day. And then you were struck with the image of having sex all day, every day, with the Greek God of a barista, and decided there was not enough holy water in the entire world to cleanse you from your sins.

“Hello,” the absurdly attractive barista said, after several minutes of you wordlessly floundering in equal parts of embarrassment and arousal.

“My name is Jimin. What would you like me to make you?” I’d like you to make me come, your traitorous mind suggested, causing even more heat to rise to your cheeks.

“H-Hello… Jimin.” you stuttered, praying for the sweet release of death. The Adonis- Jimin - watched you expectantly, gaze fluttering from your eyes — wide as a deer’s caught in the headlights — to your cheeks — probably so red they had surpassed the visible spectrum and were now emitting radiation — and he chuckled. You wanted to cry. Of course he’d be one of those people with low, sultry chuckles.

“Do you want to tell me your order, Princess?” He questioned, when it became clear you were more focused on not melting into a puddle than telling him what drink you wanted, and you became certain you had died and gone to hell. This was torture, having this perfect specimen of humanity in front of you, having him call you ‘Princess’ with his bedroom eyes dark and mischievous, and choking on your own tongue.

His eyebrow quirked — and of course his eyebrows were just fucking perfectly shaped — and you somehow managed to pull yourself together enough to remember the order you had given every damn day of your life since discovering this godforsaken place, the place you would never come back to due to a mixture of shame and self-preservation (there was a real possibility you might just die if you ever saw Jimin again).

“V-Vanilla latte… please.” You practically whimpered, too distracted with your own internal chaos to notice him cooing over your choice quietly.

“A cute drink for a cute girl.” He smirked again before striding to the espresso machine to fulfil your order, leaving you shocked on the other side of the counter. He called you cute. Cute.

You had never been more aware of your makeup-free face and unbrushed hair, quickly swept up into a messy bun. Fuck, you could've had dried up drool on the corner of your mouth and you wouldn’t have even known it. He returned with your order just in time to catch you running your tongue over your bottom lip, the pink muscle darting out just in case you had missed any on the side of your face.

If you hadn’t been so focused on your own appearance, you would have noticed Jimin falter for a second, his eyes widening, fixed on your mouth.

You caught his attention and sealed your lips together firmly, determined to not let him think you were some weirdo who licked her lips excessively in public. His dark gaze made your mouth go dry. You tried to subtly swallow down the lump in your throat, but his eyes tracked the bob under your skin.

The two of you stood in an oddly charged silence for a moment before he remembered himself and handed over your latte.

Your skin brushed his and you held your breath, his hand pausing over yours for what felt like an eternity, but it was still too soon when you forced yourself to pull back. He smiled again, the adorable mochi-cheeked smile that still managed to turn you on despite its sweet and innocent appearance.

“There you go, Y/n.”

You were so flustered by the sound of his pillow lips curving sensuously over the syllables of your name that you didn’t even question how he knew it, content to stumble backwards out of the shop. You were still caught in his gaze until you backed straight into the door, knocking you out of your stupor and causing you to practically fly out of the shop, his warm laughter chasing you up the street.

You barely heard a thing during the lecture, your pen had dried out after you uncapped it and then did not replace the cap for a solid forty minutes, letting it rest on your blank notepad. The professor had given up calling on you and asking you to pay attention, drawing the conclusion that this was an off-day for his normally-attentive student. You were actually very focused at that moment, it was simply just not directed at the professor.

You were pouring over your memories of Jimin, recounting with perfect clarity how his soft-looking hair fell over his forehead perfectly. It looked so pretty and you would sell your soul for a chance to run your fingers through it. The corners of his perfect lips tugged upwards into a smile a million times in your imagination, and you wondered what it would feel like to be kissed by those lips, to have those lips running all over your body, dipping downwards and tasting-

The professor signalling the end of the class could not have come at a better time, and you rushed out of your seat as fast as your shaky legs could carry you, the heat coiling in your belly tugging you home. You spared a moment to thank past-you for not scheduling any other classes today, because, judging by the slight damp spot in your panties that was growing embarrassingly quickly, you would be quite busy for a while.

Jimin rushed home as soon as his shift ended. His elation invigorated his steps to the point where he was practically skipping. Holy shit. Holy shit. He had met you. He had talked to you and you had blushed and stuttered and been perfect in every single way. He always thought there was no way he could love you more than he already did but that was just another way you changed his outlook on life.

Seeing your beautiful face, devoid of makeup and yet still you put any work of art to shame, and hearing your soft voice speak his name — you knew his name, holy shit — and smelling your sweet perfume was a life changing occurrence for Jimin.

Of course, he had smelt your perfume before — he wrote down what scent you preferred when he broke into your apartment to place the cameras and he had a pillow at home that he doused with the stuff so that it smelled like you — but experiencing it in real life was on a whole other level.

He got back to his apartment and switched on the live feed just in time to catch you coming back from your lecture. Jimin cooed softly at the sight of you, your eyes were wide and vacant, distracted, and your cheeks were adorably flushed, like you had been rushing. You dumped your bag by the door — Jimin couldn’t wait until he could be the one holding your bag for you, having you tucked under his other arm — and went straight to the bedroom.

Jimin switched the feed to the bedroom cam, holding his breath in anticipation. When you came home and went straight to the bedroom, that usually led to-

You flung yourself on the bed and started working your pants down. Jimin stopped breathing entirely as he felt all the blood in his body, and possibly some extra, rush down south. He knew he should look away, should let you have this moment in private, but he found himself unable to stop palming his erection through his jeans.

He pulled his hand away briefly to turn up the audio feed, and your soft moans filled the air. Jimin almost came on the spot, but he forced himself to wait, he promised he would never come before you. Your lower half was entirely bare and Jimin’s mouth watered at the sight of your pretty pussy, wet and glistening, positioned in the perfect spot for him to see it, for him.

He tugged himself out of his jeans and spread the beads of precome over the head of his cock distractedly, watching as you teased yourself open with one finger. Fuck, you were so fucking tight. He could see the slight discomfort on your face as you thrusted your finger into yourself again and again, obviously trying to get yourself adjusted as fast as possible.

Jimin felt a curl of jealously flare up within him, even as he started pumping his fist up and down his cock faster. What had made you so desperate to come? Who had done this to you? As far as he was aware, there hadn’t been anything new that day so far, unless-

You started to relax, the finger gliding in and out so easily, aided by the slick coating your digit. His mouth dried up just thinking about the taste of you. Jimin watched as your head fell back, your eyes rolling in their sockets, and your perfect lips parted.

“Jimin,” you moaned, and Jimin almost blacked out.

He was so hard it was physically painful, but he gripped the base of his cock tightly, unwilling to come because he knew if he did he would miss the rest of your magnificent performance. You were properly riding your hand now, your hips rolling to meet your own thrusts, eyes shut tight, imaging something- imagining him. Jimin had never felt such sweet torture, needing to come so badly, but needing to watch you come more.

You moaned his name again, sounding more debauched than the first time, and Jimin knew you were close. He wanted so desperately to know what you were imagining him doing, so that he could recreate it with you once he had you. It was like you had read his mind, because a second later you granted his wish.

“P-please, daddy.” You moaned, and Jimin whimpered, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on.

Daddy.

You were going to be the cause of his death and Jimin found that he didn’t mind at all.

“Ple-ease,” your begging was interrupted by a drawn out moan, and if Jimin could have thought straight at that point, he would’ve frowned. Imaginary Jimin was much crueler than Real Life Jimin. Real Life Jimin knew without a doubt he would give you anything in the world if you begged him like that.

“Fuck me, daddy, please,” You cried out, somehow managing to add a third finger, thrusting into your tight, tight wet heat, “Fuck your princess.”

You called out his name again as you came, and Jimin lasted a few seconds watching you pant and ride through the aftershocks of your orgasm before he simply loosened his tight grip on the base of his cock and finished.

When he regained consciousness, you were still splayed out on your bed, seemingly unable to move just like he was, but if he could move he knew he’d be jumping around the room in elation. This was undoubtedly the best day of his life, maybe even better than the one in which he first caught a glimpse of your angelic face.

He had met you in person for the first time, and you had been so obviously flustered by his presence, which was something that delighted him more than he could say and he had thought the day could not have gotten any better, but then you went home and masturbated and moaned out his name and called him daddy and then came with his name on your lips and Jimin honestly didn’t know how he was still breathing.

You were perfect, and amazing, and Jimin was almost mad at himself for not realising just how perfect you would be. He hadn’t anticipated you being this affected by him so soon. He had planned to gradually introduce himself into your life, ‘coincidentally’ running into you outside of the coffee shop after a few weeks, slowly integrating hang-outs and seamlessly turning them into dates. Shyly confessing his feelings after a month of being ‘friends’.

Jimin was not exactly a patient man, but you mattered more than anything to him, and he knew that he would have to be careful until you were so in love with him that you wouldn’t leave no matter what. That would be the point where he would break out the diaries and the videos, and bask in your gratitude that he was so enamoured with you from the very moment he met you, just like those romantic heroes in the books you were so fond of.

But at this rate, Jimin was practically ready to start shopping for engagement rings. He knew your ring size, of course, and your jewellery preferences due to studying your buying habits, but he managed to calm himself down enough to realise you probably wouldn’t appreciate a proposal just yet. But you were certainly attracted to him. Very attracted, Jimin thought smugly. He couldn’t exactly fault you though, since he had looked in a mirror before.

Jimin was an attractive man, he was fully aware many would call him stunning, and now he finally met his match: you. God, Jimin could not wait to see how amazingly perfect your children would be.

You chewed your lip as you ran over the dilemma in your head. It had been two days since you last went to The Roasted Bean. Coincidentally, it was also two days since you saw the most attractive man on the planet. And two days since you had the most intense orgasm you’d ever experienced.

You were seriously craving your caffeine fix, and a small, perverted part of you that was heavily repressed was desperate to catch another glimpse of the beautiful barista, Jimin. But the last time you saw him, you embarrassed yourself so much you wouldn’t be surprised if he turned on his heels and fled at the sight of you.

It was so annoying. You had waited your whole life to meet the perfect guy, but the second you meet him, you realise that you can’t spend longer than three seconds in his presence without melting into a puddle of goo.

After another five minutes spent deliberating outside the coffee shop in the chilly weather, your nose had turned so red you could practically see its glowing reflection in the cafe window. You decided that the chances of Jimin even having a shift now were very slim, and it was even less likely that he would remember you.

He probably got reactions like that (maybe slightly less embarrassing ones) every day given how stupidly attractive he was. He probably had girlfriends to spare. You scowled. Getting jealous over a stranger’s hypothetical girlfriends? Wow, you really have hit a new low, you taunted yourself.

The door opened suddenly, shocking you out of your thoughts so much that you jumped, much to the amusement of whoever opened the door, judging by their chuckle. You looked up at them, and then regretted every life choice that brought you to that exact moment.

It was Jimin, because of course it was, and he looked as stunning as ever, his complexion glowing, his eyes shining, his existence in general devastating. He was in his cute little barista outfit, a fitted white button up and black apron that might as well be a runway look for how much it suited him.

“Are you going to come in, Y/n?” Holy shit he knows my name, you screamed to yourself, vaguely hoping your face had an expression of pleasant detachment and not the strange amalgamation of shock, delight and arousal that you were experiencing. He chuckled, shaking his head slightly as if privy to some inside joke.

“Yes, of course I know your name, Y/n.” You stopped dead in your tracks. Could barista boy read your mind?

“No, I can’t, you just say everything you’re thinking out loud, which is very cute. And you can call me Jimin, you know.” Oh, if you thought you were embarrassed last time, that was a sweet walk in the park compared to today. You cleared your throat quietly, refusing to let yourself be dumbstruck again.

“I do call you Jimin.” You replied, trying to make him believe that you remembered his name because God, you were unlikely to forget it. For some reason, this made him pause for a second, his expression darkening and his tongue darting out to wet his lip.

“I know you do, baby.” He said, low enough that you questioned whether he said it at all, and he had already moved past, slipped behind the counter as you advanced to be opposite him, just like you were when you first met.

“Vanilla latte, right?”

You really should stop getting shocked by Jimin’s seemingly eidetic memory.

“You remember my drink?”

“When a customer is as beautiful as you are, Princess, you tend to remember their drink.” You elected to ignore the way that nickname had your toes curling in your boots, and instead fixated on the pinch of jealousy in your gut.

“I guess you must remember many customers orders then.” You knew you sounded too jealous for someone he barely knows, but your strange possessive behaviour seemed to please him, for a small grin tugged his mouth upwards.

“Nope, just you, Princess.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

The question blurted itself out, bypassing both your common sense and your anxiety. Jimin, however, replied promptly.

“Yes.” His confidence, evident in the way he leaned over the counter and into your space, began to falter as you just stared at him wordlessly. “That is, if you want me to-”

“I do!” You blurted out again, and you really needed to gain a filter, but his confident smirk returned.

“Actually, I was going to say: if you want me to stop-”

“I don’t!” Jimin let out a laugh, eyes crinkling in the most adorable way, before he continued.

“Will you ever let me finish what-”

“No.” At that, he threw his head back, releasing a peal of laughter that you swore could’ve lit up the world with its brightness.

He finally stopped laughing, his eyes still swimming with ill-concealed mirth. You were pretty sure your cheeks were about three seconds away from setting the coffee shop and the surrounding neighbourhood aflame, so it was a relief when Jimin turned to the machine, snapping the mechanism into place, even if you felt a hint of disappointment when you lost sight of his beautiful smile.

God, even his back is sexy, you thought, watching as he tinkered with the various machinery behind the counter. At one point, he bent over to check the positioning of the cup and, well, you had never really paid attention to any guy’s ass before but maybe you should start because damn.

Finally, Jimin turned back to you with a perfectly made latte in his hands. You noted how cute his fingers were absently as they brushed yours. But, when you made to grab your drink, he retracted it suddenly, a Cheshire Cat grin on his face.

“Not so quickly, Princess.” You humphed,

“It’s funny, Jimin, you claim to know my name but you never use it.” He laughed again and you tried to convince yourself that your heart wouldn’t always skip a beat at that sound.

“Oh, so you want me to use your name, huh?”

“It’s only fair, considering you wanted me to use your name, Jimin.”

“Alright then, Y/n.” He purred, bending down to scribble your name on the cup, a bit unnecessary considering he could’ve just handed it right to you, but you got the sense he was trying to drag out your interaction for whatever reason.

He straightened up, the glint of mischief present again in his eyes, and you prepared yourself for another verbal sparring match.

“Do you not want me calling you Princess, then?” He winked at you as he said the nickname, which was frankly quite rude. You would have to send him a bill for all the batteries he made you buy, since your vibrator was definitely going to be running out of power soon thanks to him.

“I didn’t say that.” You hated how quiet and meek your voice came out.

“Oh, it sounds like poor little Y/n’s a bit confused. What do you prefer? Y/n? Or Princess?”

“S-stop it. You’re not funny. I’m going to class.” You spun around and marched towards the door, trying to ignore his laughter following you.

“Baby!” Jimin yelled, and, for some reason, you turned around.

“What?”

Jimin smirked when you responded to the new nickname. “Since you couldn’t decide, I thought I’d use Baby instead. Do you like it?”

“No! I mean, yes- no, I don’t. Goodbye.”

“Baby! Aren’t you forgetting something?” At that, you finally exploded, all the sexual frustration caused by him bubbling to the surface.

“What?” You yelled, “You want a kiss farewell?”

“I was going to say you’d forgotten your drink but, since you asked, I wouldn’t mind a kiss.”

You stomped back to grab your drink, avoiding his eye contact like the plague. As you took the cup your fingers brushed his and the odd, frustrated tension between the two of you dissipated into something almost tender. His skin was so soft and warm. Everything about him seemed so cozy and inviting, and hopeless romantic part of you wanted to sink into his arms and never be let go of.

You left before your tongue released the stupid feelings you were longing to express. Jimin couldn’t even watch you go because he was smiling so wide his eyes had disappeared into little crescents.

“-and then he called me baby!”

“Awww-” “Ew!”

Two very different reactions emerged from your friends as the three of you sat cross legged in your friend’s apartment, a haphazard ‘study session’ with open textbooks spread across the floor beside a half-empty takeout pizza box.

“Buttercup!” Two of you whined simultaneously at the third girl, who remained unbothered, tipping her head back to dangle a stretched slice of cheese into her mouth. The three of you had been practically joined at the hip since birth, and — due to an adolescent obsession with ‘The Powerpuff Girls’ — you each had a corresponding nickname, which had stuck as the years passed you by.

You had been nicknamed Blossom, due to your — usually — level head and desire to make peace whenever your two friends were fighting. Your friend — the one who had cooed at the ending of your story — was chosen to be Bubbles, given that she was the personification of candy floss and possibly the closest thing Earth had to a real life fairy.

Your second, much more cynical friend who was currently finishing her slice of pizza and determinedly not looking at Bubble’s puppy eyes, was Buttercup. Self-proclaimed hater of all romance. Given what happened with her parents in your teenage years, you couldn’t really blame her.

“That’s so romantic.” Bubbles sighed dreamily, before huffing slightly. “I wish you hadn’t told me that tonight. I have to study for-” She flushed delicately, “Mr Kim’s lecture and now I won’t be able to think about anything else but my maid of honour speech at your wedding.”

“Hey!” Buttercup interjected, “I’m going to be maid of honour!”

“But you don’t even like weddings-” Bubble started to protest, and you cut them both off.

“There will be no maid of honour!” You announced shrilly, before forcing yourself to relax. “And also, Bubble, you don’t need to study for Mr Kim’s lecture. It’s not like it’s a class or anything, he’s just a guest lecturer.”

“Yes, but…” Bubble mumbled, docilely accepting the pizza slice that Buttercup held up to her face and continuing to speak through a mouthful, “I wuhmfda fimprsh im.”

“What?”

Buttercup scowled, but translated for you.

“She wants to impress him. Gross.” She turned to Bubble. “Isn’t he, like, forty?”

“First of all, he’s in his mid-twenties at most,” You admonished Buttercup as Bubble let out an indignant wail, “and second of all, we were talking about my problem!”

“Oh, what was that again?” Buttercup drawled. You snatched the pizza slice out of her hand in retaliation.

“Jimin! The hot barista! Calling me baby! And, just, existing in general!”

“Oh, that,” Buttercup sighed, as if you hadn’t literally just been talking about it. “That’s simple. Just bang him.”

“I- You- What?” You spluttered as Bubble giggled quietly.

“You’re thinking of this too romantically, like you always do.” Buttercup continued, sounding fantastically confident for someone who had even less experience with relationships than you did. “You just need to bang him and realise that the feelings you’re having are all just repressed horniness.”

“I mean, I would’ve put it differently, but… I agree.” Bubble chirped, paying no attention to your embarrassed whine, “He definitely… sounds attracted to you, and clearly he’s not alone in that.”

“But… I’m a virgin.” You argued dumbly, and Buttercup snorted.

“Do you want to stay a virgin for the rest of your life?”

“No,” You replied, frowning, “…but… it’s kind of a big deal to me. I want it to be special.”

“Haven’t you already said that the guy is like the hottest person on the planet or something like that?” Buttercup asked, raising a lazy eyebrow. “Isn’t that special enough?”

You didn’t reply, too busy blushing furiously, and Bubble squeaked with excitement.

“Oh my god! He’ll be your one and only! This is so exciting!” She cheered, before abruptly slumping down. “I really wish you had told me this after Mr Kim’s lecture. I can’t study now, I’m too excited.” She mumbled forlornly, shutting the textbook and grabbing another slice of pizza. Your mind was still stuck on Buttercup’s suggestion.

“I mean… I barely know him. I just know his name. And his smile. And the way his eyes twinkle when he laughs, oh my god it’s so cute-”

“Y/n,” Buttercup interrupted you, a rare use of your actual name stopping you in your tracks as she framed your face with her hands and shook it gently. “Bang. Him.”

“I-”

“No, no,” She chided you, putting a finger over your mouth, “No overthinking. Just… do what you want to do. Okay?”

Okay, you repeated to yourself. What you want to do. What you want to do…

But what do you want to do?

“I want you to ask me out!” You blurted over the counter the next morning when you walked into the coffee shop and saw Jimin’s back facing you as he cleaned out the milk-frothing machine.

It was only when he turned around that you realised the guy was decidedly not Jimin, and this random stranger was now looking at you confusedly as you debated the advantages and disadvantages of sprinting out of the shop and directly into oncoming traffic.

It would be a quick and painless death, you mused absently, certainly much less painful than this-

“Y/n?” A voice interrupted your thoughts and you whirled around to see Jimin standing in front of the staff door, seemingly just ended his shift with his uniform off. Oh no, he’s even hotter without the apron, you realised miserably.

His gaze darted between you and not-Jimin, something strange and unfamiliar solidifying in his eyes.

“I didn’t know you knew Sungwoon.” He commented mildly, before shooting an abrupt glare at the other barista- Sungwoon, who hurriedly went back to work.

“Oh, I don’t.” You told him immediately, feeling some kind of compulsion to tell him the truth, “I thought he was you.”

The — anger? you weren’t quite sure, only directed at Sungwoon though, not at you — on Jimin’s face melted as realisation dawned. “Oh-” Then his face did something strange, morphing into a smirk which had you biting your lip. “Oh.” He purred, stepping closer to you. “So… you wanted to tell me something, baby?”

Oh no. He called you baby again. Someone call Life Alert.

“I- uh-” You stuttered, thoughts grinding to a halt as he approached you. And then closed his hand around your wrist. He was closing his hand around your wrist. If Bubble were here she’d be having a fit.

“Let’s go and sit down in a booth, huh?” He said smoothly, before tugging you along to the most secluded corner of the coffee shop. After he guided you onto the cushioned bench, he didn’t sit across from you, sliding right in next to you so you could feel the warmth emanating from his skin. He didn’t let go of your wrist.

You were trapped between the wall and him, and as he smirked down at you, you thought that the wall was probably more merciful.

“Anyway, baby, you were saying?”

All the courage which had somehow flooded into you as you stormed into the cafe had abandoned you, wasted on the not-Jimin who had moved onto wiping down the tables, studiously avoiding your corner.

“I…um,” You mumbled, wringing your fingers together nervously. Jimin stopped you by releasing his hold on your wrist and moving his hand upwards to intertwine with yours instead. Your breath hitched as he smoothed a thumb over the back of your hand gently.

“It’s okay, baby.” He said, his voice soft and comforting, “Just say it. I promise… whatever it is-” His lip quirked up slightly, “I won’t say no. I would never say no to you.”

“Never say never.” You mumbled, and he chuckled. You could feel the warm puffs of air brushing your cheek.

“Okay, um, please don’t laugh. I know we don’t really know each other or anything, but… I… like you.”

“You like me?” Jimin parroted, and you would worry he was mocking you, but his eyes were far too happy for that.

“Uh huh,” You replied quietly, squeezing his hand. He took your other hand in his, and you squeezed that one as well.

“Like… like me like me?” He asked, and you could tell he was joking now, so you whined and gave him a half-hearted shove. He shifted slightly, only to rear back and cage you in his arms, dragging you onto his lap.

“I’m sorry, baby,” He murmured, burying his nose in your neck, and you felt like you were going to melt in the middle of the cafe. All those romance books never told you how embarrassing it was to have someone actually pay attention to you. “You just look so pretty when you get teased. My cute little baby.”

You squirmed on his lap, and his hands came to grip your hips securely.

“Baby’s a little restless?” Jimin asked, his voice low, and you let out another little whine. His hands tightened.

“Does this mean… does this mean you like me too?” You asked timidly, and he huffed a laugh against your hair.

“What do you think, Y/n?” He asked, squeezing your hips playfully. After a moment, he softened, tilting his neck slightly to plant a kiss on the crown of your head. “I like you too much.” He said simply, making you flush.

“Well, that’s good, because I like you too much too.”

“You might even say that I like you-” Jimin wiggled his eyebrows, “-a latte!”

You didn’t react, and Jimin’s smile dimmed slightly.

“You know, because I’m a barista?”

“Actually, never mind, I don’t like you that much-” You said as you tried to shift off his lap, but he held you firmly, tugging you back with a smug laugh.

“No, baby, you won’t get away that easy.”

He pressed you back against the wall bordering the booth, and-

So this is what true love’s kiss is like, you thought, before you stopped thinking altogether.

His lips were soft against yours, but insistent as they slanted over your mouth and pressed urgently until you gave in and parted your lips. He swallowed your whimpers as he skilfully twisted his tongue around yours, licking and sucking and biting and-

He drew back so both of you could catch your breath, and you slumped forwards into him.

“Now I’ve got you…” He said, his voice gravelly from the kiss. You did that, you realised smugly. “Now I’ve got you, I’m never letting you go.”

You hummed happily, curling into his arms without protest. Of course he’d never let you go. Why would you want him to? You’ve finally found your fairytale ending, except you hope it never ever ends. And, just like he promised, Jimin never lets you go again.

#bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts #bts imagines #yandere bts #bts x reader #bts scenarios #yandere bangtan #bts jimin #bts jimin imagines #yandere jimin #soft yandere jimin #mfeeu #yandere jimin x reader #yandere bts x reader

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thequibblah · 3 years

Note

⭐

anon: omg hi I think I sent in a ~free choice~ directors cut a while back but if you can't think of anything you wanna talk about I would LOVE to hear more about the way you write the Snape/Lily relationship and and the way it breaks apart, and even specific scenes related to it because in this house we are Anti S/nily

i hope this person was you but if not HAHA i will take this opportunity to answer their prompt as a "free choice" if you don't mind!

so. good old.... severus. ahhh.

writing interactions between snape and lily is like, one of the most rewarding challenges of this fic. now.... pitchforks away, my lovelies.... it's such an interesting emotional space to explore on her end, to me. personally i've never had a friendship end over something big and irrevocable, so it's really brand-new water to tread.

what makes it even more fascinating is that because of the setup of CT — starting after the lake incident — snape is less a presence in her life and more an absence she's working around. if i can get boring and pretentious for a sec, this was something i worked on a lot in college creative writing classes — writing about a thing in the past by avoiding it, or touching upon it and flinching away, or approaching it sideways.

now. we none of us have the patience of serious literary fiction readers in our fic HAHAHHA so this is a lot more dialled-back (dialled-forward??). but that was basically the approach to begin with, with these two. and then it was a matter of exploring the trajectory of it — how when the wound is rawest, lily is actually most forgiving and generous towards him, as she's had less time and space away from him/their friendship, and is busy making excuses for him.

(aside: i didn't realise until actually confronted by it that so much of her attitude towards him comes from her attitude towards petunia, a relationship in which she got used to receiving barbs before she gave them back, but the blood tie keeps her from a clean break. with snape there's no blood relation, obviously, but there's a shared sense of history, of childhood, that kind of lives in the same part of lily's brain/heart. so... really, two people who loathe each other overlap quite significantly in lily's emotional landscape.)

re: lily's excuse-making — it doesn't help that the only person who pushes her on snape is james. (her friends all have learned to avoid the subject, as you do when your friend is friends with someone you don't like but you can't say anything until after they're finished, and then you're like omg thank GOD i hated them from the start!!! but of course in this case they couldn't go overboard with that sentiment, lest it come off as "you should've known better/we knew better and you didn't") thanks to the circumstances of the lake incident, some of those messy feelings towards snape are entangled in messy feelings towards james (early on in the story especially), so the resulting conflict is.... bad....

She half-stumbled backwards, as if she’d been slapped. “I don’t need you to remind me,” she hissed. To her embarrassment, tears of frustration sprang to her eyes. But if she’d thought that would make him back off, she was wrong. “Yeah, except you do need the reminder,” said James. “Because you don’t get it yet. He chose them. Not you.” Lily was shaking. “I believe in second chances,” she said, fighting to keep her voice level. “But you really, really test my faith, James.” And without waiting for him to answer, she stormed up the girls’ staircase, wiping at her cheeks.

bad.

lily's true blind spot is, of course, that she's more willing to forgive snape's missteps with her. and of course james has to go and point that out :/

“Let me put it this way. If Sni — if Snape were Mary’s friend and he’d said that to her, wouldn’t you tell Mary she ought to never speak to him again?” Lily shifted uneasily. “Well, sure, but I’ve known him since—” “—you were children, whatever. Say Mary did too. Would that change anything for her?”

so the first time lily is like wait actually fuck this!!! it's because he reminds her, in an argument, about how callous he can be — a callousness which i think she's never liked, but it's easier to forgive sharpness when it's your friend poking fun at people you don't like, and less easy when...

“Yes, do let’s talk about Potter,” she said, dangerously calm now. “Let’s talk about how your mate Mulciber used an Unforgivable Curse on him—” To her absolute shock, Severus scoffed. “It was three bloody seconds—” “Shut up,” Lily said, too stunned to think of something better to say. “Shut up, you don’t seriously think that — that because the two of you have a childish rivalry, he deserves torture?” “That’s not what I said,” he replied, looking mutinous. “I just meant, everyone’s acting like he’s some big survivor — always playing for attention—”

...well, when that.

best/worst impulses aside, lily knows that the true measure of someone is how they treat the people they dislike, not their friends, and in a sense his attitude towards james (and generally other people) in this scene makes her realise what she'd read as inconsideration or insensitivity is in fact...

"...You’re weak-willed and pathetic and you’re — you’re not a good person.”

...so there's that.

as anyone who's read lily's current petunia drama will know, she's got a bit of a problem with letting go. but after her mother's death (and the attached stick to your sister she's all you've got), she manages a weirdly good break from cokeworth — because a lot of her childhood was wrapped up in hogwarts, and in snape (whom she hasn't spent vacation time with in over a year at that point). with neither at hand, she hardly has time to process it/feel homesickness.

but note this, at the start of 7th year:

“Was last year nothing to you?” Her voice had sharpened. “I wasn’t freezing you out to punish you, Severus. I was treating you how I plan on treating you from now on.”

of course lily's just making a point here, but when i wrote that i was like wow she (and i lol) are kind of onto something — snape totally does think this is like, a temporary purgatory period after which she really will come around. and through months of her getting visibly closer to his nemesis, he holds onto that belief — despite what she says. (funnily enough, childhood rose-tinted glasses make them both see what they want to see in each other, in very different ways)

that's why when he hears her say what she says to una in that hogsmeade trip, he immediately comes to his own conclusions. that was another important, interesting thing for me — for other slytherins, "loose ends" are opportunities for cruelty, for punishment, to finish what they've started. (not so for regulus, who's grown up with sadism and is frankly repulsed by the idea of pain for a flimsy cause — best believe there was absolutely a point to him orchestrating an attack on the teacher getting close to his brother. but that's another story.)

not for severus either — his loose end, in his own mind, will always be lily. he senses that something's broken, but he has absolutely no self-awareness about what it is, and his extending an olive branch was more about her coming to his level than him going to hers (aka the way apologies ought to work). he realises, over a year out, that it's up to him to fix it, but it's too late — lily's quite moved on at that point, and her residual emotions towards him are indifference and pity.

if only snape had known to leave it there!

looping full circle back to the lake incident, then, the argument in 41 is once again very personal — but rather than him pushing her away, it's him trying to get her close again. and now, stressed about all the bs in the world but also with all the petunia-related learn-to-let-go stuff fresh in her mind, lily is absolutely in the right state of mind to recognise when she's wrongly judged someone. this calls for scorched earth, she realises, or she'll never be able to shake him and move on for good.

and so what started with severus telling her that she's special, that there's a place in a new world for her, ends sort of the same way.... and the break that began with his casual, almost unintentional cruelty, ends with her very deliberate cruelty. as a bonus, she's ready now to use the one thing he's always wielded like a shield in their arguments — james, how the marauders are, etc. etc. — against him, and genuinely mean it.

(she might regret that soon. but not the way you'd think!)

#i don't know if this is even an answer or me just talking #thedoctorsayswho #ask me #director's cuts

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decembercamiecherries · 5 years

Text

intensely beautiful

IT’S KILLUGON DAYYYYYYYYYYY :D and who would I be if I didn’t have a fic to post on the day of my best and most wonderful otp~?

I actually wrote this like two months ago lol. It was inspired by this lovely killugon kiss by @cazzart over on her twitter! It’s a college au ^-^ Pls enjoy!

(title is inspired by the word ceraunophilia which is defined as a deep love of thunder and lightning. It also connotes the idea of finding both intensely beautiful)

-o0o-

Gon had never seen snow before.

Not this much, at least, and it had never snowed for this long. He watched with quiet awe as layers upon layers of snow fell from the sky, coating the campus in a light coating of powdery white. It had never really been cold enough to snow back at his hometown in Whale Island. The first and last time it happened was when he was only three, wide eyed and enchanted at witnessing something he’d only seen in books or movies.

“It’s snow,” Aunt Mito had told him kindly, standing beside him as he gazed out the window early that morning. “It’s pretty, don’t you think?”

It had been pretty, in a surreal way. Gon had been fascinated with how the snowflakes melted in his palm but stuck hard to the stone walkway leading to their small hut. He’d even tried to keep some, carrying a handful of snow inside only to cry when it started melting.

And that was the problem with Whale Island and snow. It couldn’t last. By the next day the blinding sun has returned, bringing with it the heat and humidity that was much more familiar to Gon than the cold and grey skies. Within hours, all the snow had gone.

But it was different here.

“It’s really coming down hard, huh?” Killua asked and Gon glanced up at him. Killua’s nose was scrunched up, a light dusting of pink spread across the sharp angles his cheeks and the tips of ears. He had complained and whined when Gon had first asked him if he wanted to go outside—Killua had never exactly liked the cold, exactly.

But Gon had asked him anyway, because even if the snow meant it was cold outside, it was still beautiful. And if Gon was going to experience something amazing, he wanted to do it with his best friend at his side.

“Hmm,” Gon hummed, holding on tighter to Killua’s arm and resting his head on Killua’s shoulder. His head was jostled slightly with every step, but he didn’t let it bother him. “Yeah, it is. But I like it.”

Killua scoffed. “You would like it. Everything is gross and wet and slippery…” He frowned down at Gon. “Have you ever even seen snow before?”

“A while ago. It snowed once back on Whale Island when I was really little.”

Killua quirked an eyebrow. “Really? I would’ve thought it was too hot for that. Whale Island is way further south than here, right?”

“Yeah, well, it only happened once.”

Gon let his gaze wander from Killua’s pale face to the snow covered grounds. Hunter College looked nearly unrecognizable after the gift from Mother Nature. Silvery white had hidden the dead grass, the bare branches of the trees were decorated with puffs of white that almost looked like clouds. It was even devoid of the students that usually mulled across the lawn between classes, with no one in sight but him and Killua.

Most of the other students had gone home for winter break. But Killua didn’t want that—he didn’t like his family’s empty mansion, or equally empty family members. There was a history there, a reason why Killua had chosen to attend college so far away from everything he had ever known. Gon had never pushed him on it—Killua was Killua, no matter what shadows lurked in his past—and he wasn’t about to now.

So when Killua has told him he planned on staying for the month-long break, Gon had stubbornly decided to stay, too. Killua didn’t deserve to be alone for so long, and besides, Gon didn’t want to leave Killua alone.

It didn’t matter how tempting the memory of Aunt Mito’s warm pies or his familiar bed. If Killua was here, that’s where Gon wanted to be.

“Did it ever snow back at your house?” Gon asked curiously, still staring at the blinding whiteness around them.

He didn’t have to look up to hear the scowl in Killua’s answer. “Ugh, yeah. It snowed a little too much for my liking.”

Gon laughed quietly and squeezed Killua’s arm. “You really, really don’t like the cold, huh?”

“Gee, I wonder what gave you that idea?”

Gon grinned. “I dunno, it’s just a feeling I had.”

Killua snorted and Gon’s grin grew even wider. “You’re so stupid,” Killua said, but the insult had no bite. His tone was warm, so full of soft fondness, that Gon had to look up. Even Killua’s eyes—bright as the sky or a bluejay’s wing, deep as a sapphire or the ocean, blue as Gon’s favorite color—grew tender as they gazed back at Gon.

Gon’s heart squeezed. Killua’s eyes were one of Gon’s favorite things about him, and there were lots of things that Gon liked about Killua. But today his eyes looked especially pretty against the dull grey backdrop of the sky and the empty whiteness surrounding them.

“You didn’t have to come out here, you know,” Gon said softly. The snow crunched under their boots with every step, creating a strange but steady thump-ing sound. “You don’t like the cold but you came out here anyway.”

You came out here for me, he added silently as he watched Killua squirm under his gaze.

“Yeah, well…” Killua huffed, his breath fogging up into a cloud. “Don’t let it get to your head, okay. I know what you’re thinking and if I get sick, I’m blaming you.”

“You won’t get sick from being cold, Killua. That’s just silly.”

“You would be surprised how many times I’ve gotten sick from just ‘being cold’, Gon. And who are you to know, anyway? You’re not a science major!”

Gon laughed again and the sound was boisterous enough to echo across the clearing and bounce off the nearby trees. It shattered the peaceful silence created by the snow and gon heard Killua grumble something about being too loud, but he couldn’t help himself. Killua made him laugh so easily, almost as easily as breathing.

“M-Maybe not,” Gon admitted, still giggling. “But if you do—do get sick, I promise nurse you back to health and everything!”

“You better,” Killua grumbled as his cheeks pinkened. “This is all your fault.”

“You said that already, Ki-llu-a.”

“That d-doesn’t make it not t-true!”

Killua shivered violently, teeth chattering. Gon frowned and rubbed his arm. It wasn’t enough to warm Killua up much—the heavy winter jacket and hat atop his head should already be doing that—but Gon hoped the action was comforting to his best fried all the same.

“Do you really want to go back?” he asked, concerned. He’d wanted to see the snow, to breathe in the fresh air and feel the snowflakes melting on his cheeks. Despite all their teasing, he didn’t really want Killua freeze badly enough to get sick. He just wanted to share this special moment with the most special person he knew.

To his surprise, Killua shook his head. “N-No...I’m just not used to it. I usually try to stay inside when it’s snowing like this.”

Gon slowed down, a suggestive but very fun idea hitting him. “Maybe you just need to warm up a little?” he asked slyly.

Killua slowed to match his pace, giving Gon a suspicious look. Gon didn’t blame him—Killua knew him extremely well after four years of being best friend college buddies and two years of being...well, of being more. Killua knew him better than Gon himself some days. And he definitely knew that tone of Gon’s meant trouble.

“What are you saying?” Killua asked with narrowed blue eyes. Gon hummed thoughtfully before releasing Killua’s arm. He twisted around swiftly to plant himself in front of Killua’s path, forcing the Zoldyck to stop in his tracks.

“I’m saying...you need something to warm you up,” Gon said simply and Killua’s eyes light up.

“Oh, yeah?” Killua shoved his hands into his pockets, looking amused. “And you think you have that something?”

“I might,” Gon admits casually. “But I dunno if you’ll like my idea…”

“Why don’t you try me, and I’ll let you know?”

“Hmm. Well, it might involve me getting in your personal space.”

“Might?” Killua echoed. He was giving Gon all of his attention now, all one-hundred percent of that intense blue gaze was locked onto Gon’s face, and a shiver raced down Gon’s spine—a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. “When have you ever respected personal space before?”

Gon grinned. “You never seemed to mind it,” he whispered as he leaned in ever so slowly. He could see his reflection in Killua’s eyes, the way his pupils grew large and his breath stuttered as Gon grew near.

“Hard to mind something you get used to,” Killua whispered back and Gon’s toes curled in his boots.

“You saying I grew on you?” he asked quietly. He let his hands drift forward to carefully graze Killua’s gloved fingers. Killua bit his lip at the contact—a sight that caused a thrill of satisfaction to rush through Gon. It wasn’t hard to see the struggle in Killua’s face, how he was forcing himself not to grab Gon’s hand and tangle their fingers together as they had so many times before.

“Yeah,” Killua breathed. “You did. Like a wart.”

The answer was so unexpected—so, so Killua—that Gon threw his head back and laughed. He laughed and laughed and laughed. He laughed until he was gasping for air, eyes watering and cheeks aching from being stretched too far.

“Ki-Killua,” he wheezed. “You’re—You’re funny.”

Killua rolled his eyes. “I’m not funny. You’re just stupid.”

Gon snickered, not at all minding the insult. Killua’s insults were more like terms of endearment when applied to Gon. He never really meant them.

“You like me anyway,” he reminded Killua in a teasing tone, finally taking Killua’s hands in his and squeezing them. Killua flushed darkly, a pretty blush that had absolutely nothing to do with the cold coloring his normally pale features.

“I unfortunately do,” he muttered and Gon’s heart fluttered. Killua looked so cute just then, pouting with pink cheeks and looking anywhere but at the person of his affection.

“No need to look so embarrassed, Ki-llu-a,” Gon said with a bright grin. “I like you, too.”

Killua down bit his lip. “You do?”

“You know I do.”

“...you’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”

Gon’s smile widened. “Maybe just a little. But I can’t help it! You look so cute when you get all flustered.”

Killua opened his mouth, looking like he was about to argue, and that’s when Gon moved. He rushed forward and pressed his lips to Killua’s, still smiling as their mouths touched.

For a moment, Killua didn’t move. He stayed stiff as wood against Gon—out of surprise more than anything, Gon was sure—but then he melted into Gon’s embrace, leaning against the shorter student as he kissed Gon soundly back.

Killua’s lips were warm, Gon noted. They were warm and soft and tasted faintly of the hot chocolate Gon had made for him just hours earlier. They were familiar and good and Gon hummed happily before tilting his head to get an even deeper kiss. Killua responded by winding his arms around Gon’s middle, squeezing his waist hard enough as if he could keep Gon here in this moment with just his strength alone.

Which, he really didn’t need to do. Because Gon wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world than here with Killua, sharing this moment with him as the snowflakes collected on their shoulders and in their hair.

Gon didn’t know how or why, but everything felt right when he was with Killua. Killua had a way of making the world brighter, his problems lighter, his challenges easier. Even when the world was already so beautiful with the snow falling from the sky and the icicles decorating the trees, nothing could ever really compare to the beauty that was Killua.

Gon pulled back and Killua’s eyelashes fluttered. Hazy blue eyes gazed back at him and something hot twisted in Gon’s gut.

“Feeling warmer?” Gon asked, voice hoarse, and Killua sucked in a shuddering breath.

“A little,” he said, cheeks stained red. “But I don’t think I’m entirely warmed up yet.”

Gon tilted his head as he tried to hold back the smile fighting its way onto his face. “Really?”

Killua nodded. “Really.”

Gon grinned. He threw his arms around Killua’s shoulders and pulled Killua in for another kiss, this time holding Killua to him as his boyfriend once more melted into his embrace.

#dc writes #killugon #hunterxhunter #killua zoldyck #gon freecss #kissing #modern au #college au #aged up au #winter #snow

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everlarkbirthdaydrabbles · 7 years

Note

Hello, everlarkbirthdaygoddesses! 😘 My birthday is April 1 (no foolin’!) ☺️ and I would love a gift to share with everyone in the fandom. If it were rated M/E, that would be purrrfect, but I'd be happy with anything. Thank you for sharing the love. xo

Happy Birthday, @katamount! The birthday ‘goddessess’ (your words not ours ;)) have decreed your special day a very worthy one, indeed. Thank you to @katnissdoesnotfollowback for the incredible part 2 of All’s Fair. You can find part one here.

“We’re graduating in a year, Gale. Going into different branches with different bases and little chance of being assigned together,” Katniss says.

Unless we’re married. Even then, we’d maybe get one or two assignments together if we’re lucky, and there’s not even a guarantee of that.

But I can’t say any of that to her, because this is the first time she's even mentioned what happens after, and while my battered heart lurches at the knowledge that she's actually thinking about us in the long term...if she’s already thinking of dumping my ass over this, then mentioning marriage now would just be the nail in my coffin.

R.I.P. Gale Hawthorne. He opened his mouth too wide and choked on wanting too much.

“We can find a way to make it work,” I hear myself say, and the words sound useless even to me. A hundred million pleas sit on the tip of my tongue, all the things that won’t mean a damn without her, all the ways I want to fight for us, but I can’t stop my brain from jumbling them all together and she doesn’t need me to be a pathetic mess right now so I choke them back.

“Gale,” she says and it already sounds like ‘good-bye.’

I squeeze my eyes shut and clench my fists, feeling the bite of the plastic cuffs into my wrists and hoping the physical pain will keep me grounded through the pain of her leaving.

“Just...do it fast, okay?” I whisper, hoping it'll be like ripping off a band aid and knowing it won't. “You don’t even have to say anything. Just...go.”

“That’s the problem,” she whispers back. “I can’t. It’s always been you, Gale.”

LOL! How many of you vomited? Don’t lie! We just couldn’t resist since this day only comes around once a year. @katamount you are a fan to all and a fabulous person in this fandom. We wish you the best birthday EVER! Your REAL story is below the cut. *hugs*

All’s Fair

WARNINGS: RATED E for mild language, immature pranks, and smut. Everlark college/military cadets AU. ;-)

*************************

I’ve been on edge almost all day. Waiting for her to pounce.

It doesn’t help that I’ve been awake for twenty-two hours and only got about three hours of sleep before that. I’m just so tired and every corner I’ve turned today has been a moment of anxiety, waiting for gray eyes flashing in anger.

I jump when a stray cat darts out from the bushes next to my apartment building and then order my pulse to slow down. Maybe I’m overreacting, but I haven’t seen her or talked to her since she left me tied up and hard as fuck for her, the taste of her still lingering on my tongue. By the time Mason was done cutting my bonds and giving me shit, Katniss and her squad had already left, probably to report back on their pseudo-success. I was left to trudge through my day, waiting, wondering what she was thinking and feeling.

At first, I wasn’t worried. I’d thought we were flirting, pushing each other to see just how far we’d go to get what we wanted. I expected her to stop us at every turn, but she didn't, and those thirty minutes or so that we’d spent in my office had felt so...exhilarating, sexy. Even if we’d caught her squad, they still managed to complete their prank. And she’d easily gotten the upper hand on me, even when I knew what she was up to.

When my text messages to her went unanswered, though, I slowly came to realize how wrong I was. During my last class of the day, I began to accept that I had really fucked it up and started working on a suitable apology. It didn’t help that Finnick kept ribbing me all through our shared classes, despite my insistence to him that Katniss and I aren't more than friends.

She wanted to keep things low key. Just for us, but we've ruined that in spectacular fashion. I've ruined it. I didn’t meant to. Now, everyone seems to think they know, or always knew, what Katniss and I are to each other. I thought I knew, but I’m not so sure after what happened this morning.

Around dinner time, I stopped by all her usual places, since she hadn’t answered my calls either. But to no avail. I couldn’t apologize to her if she wouldn’t even see me. So I changed into jeans and a t-shirt, something more comfortable than my uniform, and hid myself in the library to work on my psyc paper. I really wasn’t lying to her about that, and I still have every intention of finishing it early, even if I spend my weekend groveling to her instead of taking her out to the lake for a relaxing weekend away from campus like I’d originally planned.

Now, it’s close to midnight, and still no word from her, although my paper is drafted at least. I’m not looking forward to a night spent alone. Even though she still doesn’t want to advertise our relationship, I’ve gotten used to sleeping beside her every night. Holding her in the dark. Because I’m beyond a goner for Katniss, and I'm not sure I can survive losing her.

“Fuck,” I mutter as I smack my forehead into my apartment’s front door frame. I didn’t think she’d take it this hard. But the longer the silence has stretched between us today, the more I’m convinced that I’ve finally messed up enough to lose her.

I let my arm go limp, keys dangling from my fingertips as I torture myself with the memory of her legs wrapped around my head, so tight that I could feel every spasm as she came on my tongue, but also so tight that I couldn’t hear a thing. I knew she did that on purpose, but it didn’t stop me from being turned on by it. By the thrill of playing that game with her. Of getting her to shatter when she knew she shouldn’t and was trying so hard not to. I wouldn’t be surprised if she hates me now.

Standing out here won’t fix anything, though, so I force myself to unlock my door and enter my pitch dark apartment. I flip the light switch and curse when nothing happens. Just one more thing to add to my list of why this day fucking sucks. I lock my front door and drop my book bag, pull my phone from my pocket to use the flashlight on it.

The light in the kitchen is blown, too, and I stand perfectly still, waiting for a sound or a noise. Pushing down the hope in my chest that this is her vengeance. An attack in my apartment in the dark? I can deal with that. It means I’ve got a chance to talk to her before she decides to publicly skewer me.

A creak in the bedroom draws me in there and I sweep the space with the flashlight to provide more illumination than what the street lamp outside provides. The lights in my bedroom don’t work either. Damn, she’s not playing around tonight. Only, there’s nothing. Katniss isn’t in here. I can feel my shoulders sagging with the realization.

I’ve just decided that she must have removed all my bulbs as the opening move of her retaliation and that I’m alone, turning to return to the kitchen and see if I’ve got any extra bulbs under the sink, when my bedroom door slams shut and I jump back, dropping my phone as she stalks towards me, still dressed in her camo pants and black shirt that make her almost one with the shadows.

“You,” she says, jabbing a finger in my chest. I hold my hands up in surrender and back away from her.

“Katniss, I--”

“Shut up. You don’t talk unless I ask a question,” she snarls and I guess I deserve it, so I clamp my mouth shut. My feet tangle in something on the floor and I go down hard, wincing at the blow to my pride and my backside as Katniss bends over me. I am so focused on the pain in my tailbone and trying to figure out what it is that I tripped over that my mind doesn’t register her moving my arms until the distinct zip-click noise fills my bedroom.

I look up at her in astonishment and try to tug my arms down from over my head. No give. She’s chained me to the leg of my own bed.

“Are you kidding me right now?” I say as she stands up with a smirk and crosses her arms over her chest. That’s twice in one damn day.

“Do I need to put tape over that pretty mouth, too?” she asks, and while part of me wakes right the fuck up at that idea, there’s just enough bite in her voice to tell me she doesn’t mean it as some kind of pleasant game.

“You think my mouth is pretty?” I stupidly ask instead.

“Shut it, Mellark.” I snap my mouth closed again and press my lips together.

“You caused me a lot of trouble today, you know that?” I nod and try to look contrite. Her scowl deepens and she sets one booted foot on my chest but doesn’t push down on me. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I didn’t know for sure it’d be your squad,” I blurt out and she lifts an eyebrow at me, telling me that she’s not convinced. “Look, there’s always at least one prank you guys pull on us around this time of year and Finnick and I have been trying to figure out how to prevent it or get you back for it this time. Then you started acting all weird and jumpy around me this week. I figured you might at least know what the plan was, even if you weren’t involved. When you told me you had a drill from two to four in the morning, I took a gamble that that must be it.”

“You could’ve asked me, rather than playing games, Peeta,” she says.

“Would you have told me?” I ask and can’t help the grin that lifts my lips, because I already know the answer.

“That’s beside the point!” she insists and presses her boot down on my sternum, although not enough to hurt.

“You’re right. I still would’ve figured it out. You’re not a very good liar, Katniss,” I say and enjoy the flush that blooms across her cheeks and the challenge that blazes to life in her eyes.

“And yet, you’re the one who keeps getting tied up,” she says and I flounder for a response. She preens a little when she realizes I don’t have much.

“Just a second, let me think,” I say and tug on the cuffs. How do I tell her that she keeps getting the best of me because I don’t guard myself against her?

“Something wrong, Peeta?” she coos and my pulse trips at her sensual tone. “Cat got your tongue?”

“I wish,” I say with a smile and her smirk falters. “So am I forgiven?”

“I was embarrassed today, Peeta” she says, her voice breaking a little and I hate myself enough in that moment for the both of us. “We had to report a failure and now I have to pick, plan, organize, and lead another raid.”

“It’s not required for graduation,” I remind her. “They can’t make you do that.”

“No, but it’s a tradition, Peeta. I lost a lot of respect today because of this.” She drops her boot to the floor and to my astonishment, she lays down on top of me, curls up on my chest, gripping my shirt in her hands and sniffling slightly.

“Hey,” I try to soothe her, difficult with my hands restrained, but I manage a kiss on the top of her head. I don’t know how to fix this mess, how to balance our loyalties to each other and to our respective corps. “Will it help if you take pictures of this? I mean, getting the jump on the Vice Wing Commander twice in one day’s gotta count for something, right? Maybe draw an army star on my face before you do it. In permanent marker.”

Her shoulders shake a little, but she doesn’t move to document my captivity. I lick my lips and swallow the pain balling up in my throat. Eventually, Katniss sets her chin on my chest and looks up at me, her gaze softer this time.

“They lectured me on breaches in security. Like the fact that I can't lie to my boyfriend means that I’d spill national secrets to a spy or something,” she murmurs.

“That’s a bit of an overreaction,” I say and she sighs.

“Yeah, but it’s the way they think. To them, I’m now just a silly school girl with a crush.”

I feel her words like a stab in the heart. We’re supposed to be on the same side, but these ridiculous inter-service rivalries make me a threat to her. To her success. And I hate myself for proving them and their backwards ideas true.

“Katniss, I’m so sorry,” I whisper. She looks down at my chest and traces her short nails over the writing on my shirt.

“At first, I thought they knew about us and maybe rigged the drawing as punishment,” she says and I swallow heavily. “But now it’s so much worse. My whole squad is paying the price. Gale won’t even speak to me.”

And I thought I couldn’t hate myself any more. I’ve managed to embarrass her and destroy her relationship with her squad and her best friend. Okay, maybe there’s a tiny part of me that’s not as upset about that last one as I should be. The piece of me that’s always been a little jealous that she’s so open about her friendship with Gale when she’s oblivious to how he looks at her. Like they’re inevitable and he doesn't even have to try. But she won’t so much as hold my hand in public. Not even when we’re both out of uniform.

“He’ll forgive you, especially if your next raid is a success. He cares about you too much,” I try to soothe. She looks completely unconvinced, and I know I have to give her the out she needs. As much as it will pain me to do it.

“Maybe we should, I don’t know... If you want t-to take a break...or e-end th-things,” my voice is shaking pathetically and the words nearly choke the life from me, but I shove them out anyways, “I’ll understand.”

And all I can do is chant in my head.

Please say that’s not what you want. Please say THAT’S not what you want. Please say that’s NOT what you want. PLEASE say that’s not what you want.

“It’d be easier,” she says and my heart breaks right then and there. The pain of her words blinding me to everything else. Even though I considered the possibility several times throughout the day, I never allowed myself to do more than think it in passing and then shove it away before it could destroy me.

“We’re graduating in a year, Peeta. Going into different branches with different bases and little chance of being assigned together.”

Unless we’re married. Even then, we’d maybe get one or two assignments together if we’re lucky, and there’s not even a guarantee of that.

R.I.P. Peeta Mellark. He opened his mouth too wide and choked on wanting too much.

“Peeta,” she says and it already sounds like ‘good-bye.’

I squeeze my eyes shut and clench my fists, feeling the bite of the plastic cuffs into my wrists and hoping the physical pain will keep me grounded through the pain of her leaving.

“Just...do it fast, okay?” I whisper, hoping it'll be like ripping off a band aid and knowing it won't. “You don’t even have to say anything. Just...go.”

“That’s the problem,” she whispers back. “I can’t.”

My brain barely has time to register her words before her lips crash into mine and my eyes fly back open to watch her kiss me. She’s kissing me?!

I’m confused. But her eyes are closed and her fists are pulling on my shirt and her lips move over mine with firm determination. I try to talk, to ask what she meant, but her tongue takes my open mouth as an invite. I give up on talking as light sparks inside me, warming as it spreads from my chest outward. And I kiss her back, as best I can without touching her.

She moans in my mouth and shifts her body so she’s cradling my jaw in her hands and rocking her hips over mine, her knees pressing into my sides so her legs almost embrace me. My mind goes all hazy when she grinds her hips down, pressing my zipper onto my cock. I’m already half hard and if she keeps this up, I’ll be desperate in about two seconds flat.

I yank my arms down in an attempt to break the thick plastic ties binding me, but nothing gives. All I manage to do is drag my bed across the floor and hurt my wrists. Katniss sits up and smiles down at me, her hands slowly skimming down my chest then back up, over my shoulders and up the length of my arms towards the cuffs as she lowers herself back over me.

“Do you want something?” she asks in a sing song voice that tells me I won’t be getting what I want.

“Can we take these off now?” I ask anyways and tug on the cuffs again. She stretches out over me, her hands caressing over my skin, just below the cuffs, but just when I think she’s going to free me and let me touch her, she pulls back slightly and shakes her head. A desperate whine escapes my throat as I squirm beneath her, my hands flexing with the need to feel her.

“Who can’t lie, Peeta?” she asks, and fuck me if I don’t get harder at her taunt. I groan as she bites my earlobe and pushes down into me with her hips. Again and again. “I'm still upset with you.”

Her motions and her whispers in my ear feel so damn good, they distract me from trying to get free. Instead, I brace my feet on the floor and thrust up into her. It’s her turn to gasp and I bite back a smile as her nails dig into my forearms. My jeans are too tight, tighter with each press of our bodies together and the resulting burst of pleasure that burns through me.

Without warning, she stops and I whimper, fucking whimper like a dog denied a biscuit. But she moves down my body and her hands yank violently at my belt, the button and zipper on my jeans. She grabs fistfuls of denim and pulls, taking my shorts too. I lift my hips to help, sighing in relief when my dick is free of the restriction, but she’s moving so fast that I lose my footing and fall back to the floor with my jeans and my shorts halfway down my legs.

She growls in frustration and moves again, tugging my shoes off before throwing them across the room and then tearing my clothes the rest of the way off. She moves around the bed and I listen to her pull the nightstand drawer open. She doesn’t bother closing it, but returns with the short strip of condoms I have left, dropping them on the floor next to me and standing over me, one foot on either side of my hips.

“Don’t I get a cuddle or something first?” I tease and she scowls at me. But I think maybe I understand now. She's had a rough day, faced failure and ridicule, and now she wants to feel like she can control SOMETHING, even if that something is us.

Katniss whips her shirt and sports bra off over her head and drops them to the floor before placing one booted foot on my chest. My palms ache for the weight of her breasts, my thumbs for the pebbled nipples already taut with desire.

“Unlace me, Mellark,” she orders.

“Can’t,” I remind her, jerking my wrists to prove it to her. Undeterred, she moves to set her boot next to my bound hands.

“Unlace me,” she repeats. Somehow, I manage to shift my wrists up the leg I’m attached to and blindly unlace first one boot and then the other. She sits on the corner of the bed, legs splayed on either side of me to finish removing them herself. They drop to the floor with resounding thuds. When she stands, she turns to face the bed and shoves her pants down her legs. I groan in agony at the view of her black boy shorts right above me and the damp patch between her legs. I am dizzy with the need to touch her and taste her, and I try once more to break free as she looks down at me with a sly smile.

“Katniss, please,” I beg. She tucks her thumbs into the waist of her panties and shimmies, slowly lowering them until they land on my face. She steps out of them and kicks them aside. I blink as she sits on my mouth.

“Fuck,” I say, but the word is garbled.

“What was that, Peeta?” she asks coyly, my name a squeak as I tilt my chin and suck on her lips. I fucking love eating her out. All the breathy little sounds she makes, the way she swivels her hips to get my tongue right where she wants it. Her taste like nectar, her scent a perfume. I could do this all day and die happy.

This is the first time she’s sat on my face and my hands are tied...literally. So I can’t guide her hips and she bumps into my nose and drops too low once or twice. She’s still enjoying it, though. Panting my name here and there in a beautiful song. Her legs shaking. Before I can get her close, she tears herself away from me.

I’m recovering from the sudden change and hardly notice her rip open a condom until her hand grips me and I buck into her touch. Before I can ask her to slow down a little, she’s got it on me and she’s lowering herself onto my cock.

“Oh fuck, Katniss!” I say as my spine bends and my head drags on the floor, my wrists aching as I strain against the cuffs and my cock throbs eagerly inside her wet heat. I don’t even try to control the sounds I make when her hands push my shirt up enough for her nails to burrow in my skin, hands clenched on my abs as she rolls her hips over me. But I want to watch and force myself to at least lay flat again so I can see her.

Eyes closed, braid swaying over her chest with her movements, arms straight and strong, holding me to the floor, mouth parted, tongue and teeth glistening, cheeks flushed. Radiant. Powerful, if a little vulnerable. Gorgeous.

As she speeds up, I once more bend my knees and brace my feet on the floor to rock myself up into her. Her hands move up to my chest as she groans my name and her walls squeeze once. I bite my lip, concentrating on keeping the pace as her eyes flutter open and her gaze locks with mine. Fire tickles down my spine and I try to stave it off by talking.

“Katniss, fucking take it from me. You know you want it. Your pussy wants it so fucking bad. You can’t lie to me. I can feel it. Feel you squeezing me. Right there?”

She keens wordlessly at the slight shift in angle, and the sounds alone are enough to get me right to the edge. Her hips thrash and I bite my lip hard as she comes all around me, her walls clenching and her juices coating me. She remains rigid above me as she rides it to the end and then her elbows buckle and I grunt as her weight lands squarely on my chest.

Her fingers trace over my shirt and her hot breath paints over my neck, tickling and arousing me further. With a deep sigh, she slides her hands up my arms and fiddles with something. There’s a slight release of pressure and she holds up a carabiner for me to see before tossing it aside. My wrists are still bound, but I’m no longer attached to the bed.

I bring my arms down to trap her to me and shove one foot against the floor to flip us over. Katniss gasps, wrapping her arms and legs around me, clinging to me as I twist my hands enough to get my palms flat on the floor. It’s fucking uncomfortable with her weight pressing down on my wrists and the cuffs, and my arms bent at this angle, but the pain is not as bad as the desire to plunge into her until I come.

She smiles and tilts her head back as I try to move, exposing her throat to me. I lick up the column of smooth skin, tasting the salt of her sweat and the musk that’s all Katniss. When I reach her chin, she rolls her head up and holds my face close to hers, so our noses and foreheads brush and her breaths float warm and inviting over my lips while we stare at one another. Then her heels dig into my ass, and I lose it. I buck like a fucking madman and can’t seem to stop. It’s fast and harsh and all too soon the fire races back through me, leaving my skull buzzing and my body flaming as I shout and slam into her before my body is seized in release, going rigid and still as it rocks through me. The cuffs finally snap as I stop coming and my arms give out.

I barely manage to catch myself before I crush her, my face pressed into the floor as I gasp and blink and try to figure out which way is up. It’s her fingers, tenderly caressing my neck and shoulders that guide me back to reality. Her legs still wrapped around me tightly, holding us together.

When I can breathe normally again, I gather her in my arms and move us onto the bed, discarding the condom and the broken cuffs, and removing my shirt before I join her beneath the covers.

“I still can't believe you went down on me with my whole squad down the hallway.”

I laugh and wrap my arms around her, relieved when she curls into me the way she always does.

“May I remind you that you kissed me, and you're the one who went for my belt first?”

“You may not.”

“I would've stopped if you'd told me to,” I whisper. “I still can't believe you let me go that far with your whole squad down the hallway.”

I grin and trail my fingers over her hair. She yawns and presses a handful of soft kisses to my chest, sending up a wave of fluttering from my middle. When I turn to kiss her cheek, though, she stiffens in my embrace.

“The navy,” she whispers.

“What are you talking about?” I ask and manage to lift my head to look down at her. She’s wide eyed and flushed, her gaze is excited and eager.

“That’s my target. The Navy midshipmen,” she explains. Then she bites her lip and lifts an eyebrow. “Since you kind of owe me, Zoomie, you think you might be willing to spare a few cadets to help out and earn some bragging rights?”

“I might be able to help. We've always talked about turning that gigantic, tacky as fuck brass anchor in their entry way into a clothes line. Put a sign on it that says ‘Salute Your Shorts,’” I tell her and she wriggles with glee.

“I knew there was a reason I put up with you,” she teases and I laugh, just happy that she’s not angry and leaving.

“Anytime you need to loosen an idea from your mind, I’m more than willing to put my body at your service. And I’d like to remind you that we in the Air Force pride ourselves on Service Before Self,” I tease right back and nibble on her neck until she’s squealing in laughter and clawing at my shoulders. I fling the sheets up in the air and crawl beneath them. “It's a dangerous task, but I am completely willing to sacrifice myself to get it done right.”

Her laughter stops when I settle in the cradle of her legs and tilt her hips to taste her again. There will be other obstacles to face in the future. The most glaring one is what we’ll do after graduation. But for now, I just want to focus on helping her regain that respect I cost her. To spend every possible minute with her that she’ll allow me.

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