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ncteez · 2 years

Text

Premium Boy-Toy (l.j)

the one where your best friend gifts you an entire man, and that man just so happens to be in high demand for everyone but you, until now at least.

ao3 | m.list | minors dni! | if you read it, reblog it.

requested by anon: “I don’t like getting off on my own.” + “No one’s ever touched fucked me like this,”

wordcount― 10.3k

pairing― stripper!Jeno x afab reader

content― switch jeno, rich/lonely reader, jeno gets kinda in a weird headspace after he cums lmao

note― congrats, you are witnessing the fact that i cannot defend that this is basically smut from start to finish. theres a lil bit of sugar baby jeno at the end tho so...um, also there's probably so many typos and way too many commas in this but to be fair i was in horny jail and just fucking going.

smut tags under cut:

smut tags: masturbation, jeno goes from having the power to releasing it to you completely, its very chaotic, stripping kind of, hand job, finger fucking, choking, sensitivity, edging but it’s his own fault, jeno talks a lot until he can’t anymore, titty sucking :D, protected sex

It was a gift, or rather, he was the gift. A down payment of $600 told you enough about the man who offers his services to lonely, sad, rich women who had no one to spend their money on. Your best friend had been taunting you with the idea for months. Since she heard of the infamous Jeno actually, even more so after she experienced him herself. She has mentioned how clean he is, how toned he is, how well he moves his body, how he teases just enough, and how he looks better in heels than she does herself.

You still can’t fully take that last part seriously. A male stripper in heels? Must cost extra for those who like that sort of thing, which is very clearly your best friend. Noted. Regardless, she had mentioned whispers from the elite women she associates with that sometimes he even gives an extra treat with his services, free of charge. What that treat is, neither of you know, but the implications are damning.

Even with all of the information being dangled in front of your face, presented as if the image should be more delicious than the century-old wine you have every night at dinner, you’re not interested. For the entire duration of her praising this all-amazing stripper, it hasn’t interested you. There’s shit to do and life to worry about, constantly actually. So, naturally, when she appears at your doorstep with an envelope in hand and yet another expensive bottle of champagne, you were wondering if you forgot your birthday because it wouldn’t be the first time.

She hadn’t pushed past you to come inside, she didn’t say a word actually, which was suspicious but kind of appreciated. Upon opening the small gift, it appears that she, herself, had dropped that $600 down payment in an attempt to force you out of being the stick in the mud that you are. The note states the date and time, which, curse her for knowing your schedule so well, and the demand that it’s your job to tip him and pretend to have some inkling of an interest.

So now, here you are. Waiting for that knock on your door and wondering why you even tried to look nice for a man coming to swing his meat in your face. Fucking unbelievable, you think, that there is a stripper out there that only does private parties, and your own best friend thinks you need it? You could have any dick you want, why the fuck should you have to pay just to look?

Surely, this man is expecting more than just you, alone on your couch with a sound system beyond his wildest dreams, one that you’ve only ever utilized when you need to watch a youtube tutorial on how to clean your windows the way the cleaner does. Surely, he’s expecting more than a woman who isn’t interested at all in this.

To your dismay, Jeno appears to have already been told that you’re a nightmare to fluster or gain interest from. The first words he says to you when you open the door for him is, “She said you’d give me that look.” Still, even so, Jeno saunters in like he owns the place, and you can immediately tell he’s done this probably hundreds of times before. He appears comfortable in a place he’s never been, in a home probably much nicer than his own, finding his way to where his stage should be for the night.

“Big place. Looked smaller on the outside.” He says to your silence, looking around and placing his bag beside your couch.

“The smaller the better, sometimes it feels too big in here for just me.” You admit, watching him curiously as he pulls wires from his bag.

“Must get lonely.” Jeno shrugs, eyeing how stiff you are as he unravels his chords. “And, I assume, this is why I am being paid to be here.”

“This wasn’t my idea. Just so you’re aware.” You cross your arms, unimpressed by the man already.

“I was told that I need to show you a good time, I already knew you were new to this kind of thing.” He smiles, continuing to set up. “Besides, first-timers are my favorite to entertain.”

Curiosity spikes again, only for a moment though. You really did think that the initial meeting would be different, less casual, even. Wasn’t he supposed to pretend to be a cop or something? Showing up and pressing play on a magical-appearing stereo that bumps the worst of music before gyrating at you? Instead, he’s here setting up and surprisingly, fully clothed in a tacky and ratty sweater with jeans that hug against his thighs. He doesn't appear at all to be a man that gets paid to take his clothes off for lonely hearts. You kind of want to ask him questions, but also you don’t think you should be learning more about him considering that’s not why he’s in your living room right now.

“Do you have mood lighting or are we doing this in morgue lighting?” He casually asks after plugging his laptop into your sound system and placing it on one of the various shelves. It almost makes you laugh.

You make your way to the wall, clicking the buttons on the panel to show him the various lighting options this room offers that you very rarely use.

“Perfect, that one.” He says from across the room, focusing his eyes from his laptop screen to you and your extravagant light switch. “A little lower.” He guides, knowing which lighting accentuates his toned body the best. You turn the nob a bit for him, wondering just how good he must be at dancing for women with houses like this.

“A little more.” He smiles.

You dim the lighting just a smidge more, looking at him and the way he genuinely seems to be at ease.

“Right there.” He says in a gentler tone before focusing his eyes back on his laptop.

You watch him tap his fingers across the keyboard, gliding around the little touchpad, and then, as if he’s the one who owns this house, he takes a step back and walks to your couch.

“Come sit, I’ll go get myself ready.” He smiles over at you as he pats the cushions. “Which way is the bathroom?”

Without a care in the world, you point towards the bathroom and decide he doesn’t need help getting there. Most people would be petrified of a strange man in their home, wandering the halls with the ability to come upon any room with unprotected goods. If he’s a thief of any kind, you can replace pretty much everything you own anyway. You don’t care.

Once he rounds the corner and you can hear the bathroom door close, you make your way to the couch and attempt to make yourself comfortable. Despite the countless naps you’ve had here on this plush and soft surface, you can’t bring yourself to find comfort sitting here right now. You’re curious about Jeno, yes, of course, you are. You’re curious about how much money he makes doing this, if he likes doing it, how he got started, what he does to advertise, and many other countless things, but you’re not entirely curious about how he does it. Sure, he’s attractive. Hot as hell, actually, but that doesn’t mean you should have to pay for attention from a man.

It almost feels like an insult from your best friend. Does she genuinely think you couldn’t go out right now and bag a man? Is this fun for her? A hobby, maybe?

“You overthink too much,” she always says to you, and yeah, perhaps she’s right. Maybe, since it’s going to happen anyway, you should at least try to enjoy it.

Jeno stays in the bathroom for a good thirty or so minutes, and each of those minutes was like a nightmare in your head. You were back and forth between not wanting to be in this situation, to fighting yourself for being such a fucking bore. A very attractive man is preparing himself for you to look at. He’s going to come out here and do his best to turn you on, the least you can do is let yourself enjoy it. The very least you can do is tip him well and rub one out later after he’s gone and you’re on the verge of jumping out a window because you never make time to fuck.

Fucking thankfully, the moment he comes out of the bathroom your brain adjusts itself into the right mind-state. You actually can’t look away from him even if you tried when he reveals himself. He isn’t dressed in anything that looks cheap, tacky, or even overly sexual. If anything, he looks expensive. Jeno genuinely looks like this is a place where he belongs.

You can physically feel yourself react to him in his blazer and dress pants. Business is what got you to where you are today, but never have you found it sexy in any way, until now, at least. The suit looks much like what your team would wear in your company, shyly coming into your office and stuttering through their questions and need for approvals. Jeno isn’t stuttering in his suit though. He’s standing confidently at his laptop as if he hadn’t even noticed you staring yet.

God, the way his abs were glistening in the dim lighting before he had turned away from you. The way the belt held his pants on his hips, begging to be unbuckled, the way the blazer widened his shoulders much better than his sweater from before. The smell that wafted off him was even prettier when paired with the image of him. He smelled like a sweet type of musk, something you’d be interested in drinking alongside your dinner on special occasions maybe. Assuming that scent is the reason his abs were fucking shining. Fucking body oil. He uses body oil.

When he turns to face you again, this time with the bass of whatever song he had chosen to play accentuating each of his steps towards you, your cheeks start to heat up. He hasn’t rolled his body once and you’re already feeling like you could eat him alive, with the smirk on his face leading your eyes down to his neck, chest, abs, and that fucking belt.

“Good?” He asks, leaning over you and placing his arms on either side of you, gripping the back of the couch.

Jeno can already tell that you’re going to be fun to play with. Such a harsh exterior from the beginning. To be fair, he was warned and prepared by your friend, which happens to be his newest client who tipped him more than anyone before.

You nod to him, still eyeing his body in a shameful show of how much you did need this. What’s so bad about paying to look when he’s presenting himself like this?

“Rule number one,” He smiles, swaying in front of you and keeping his grip on the couch, mostly so that way you feel trapped and, hopefully, mesmerized by him. “I only accept bills of twenty, fifty, and one hundred. If you give me a fucking dollar, I’m leaving.”

That’s not a problem because, despite your internal protests, you had only pulled out the bigger bills anyway. You nod to him, watching the way his hips start to swirl, too afraid to look up at his face because you know he’s looking down at you, intensely, probably.

“Rule number two.” He leans down, lowering his voice and blowing against your ear in a short breath. “Don’t touch me without asking.”

You almost wanted to reach out immediately to touch him. You wanted to feel how slick that body oil was on him. You wanted the scent on your fingers for later. Mostly, you wanted to feel how warm he must be.

This time he doesn’t wait for you to nod, because he can already see that familiar look on your face that he gets from most of his clients. This is why he’s so in demand.

“Rule number three.” He continues, pulling back and this time positioning his face in front of yours because this one is the most important. This one he needs you to look at his face rather than his body. “I won’t touch you unless ask me to.”

What you’re not realizing at this moment is that rule number three isn’t one he often states. Sometimes, very rarely, Jeno is in a mood when he goes out on a job. He always has condoms with him just in case, but never intends to use them until meeting said client. She’s paying to look at him, not to touch him. If she piques his interest, he offers a third rule. If a client never hears of the third rule, they know that even if they ask to touch him, he wouldn’t allow it.

Besides, the only reason he took so long in your bathroom is that his hand, for some reason, felt so good against his cock for the split second he had of tucking it into the most attractive position. He knew instantly that tonight was one of those nights, and hopefully, you take the bait.

When you swallow and look him dead in the eye, he thinks you know what it means. He feels lucky that his cock is acting up. Lucky that your friend brought him to your attention, lucky that you’re looking so pretty and already so flustered by just looking at him.

“Deal?” He finally says, tilting his head a bit and waiting for you to nod.

You nod slowly, glancing down at his body again. He can tell you want him to start moving now, really moving.

“Is the song okay?” He asks, pulling back and bracing himself still against the back of your couch. “It was picked specifically for you.”

You’re not entirely sure what he means by that, but you assume your friend must have told him what she thinks you like.

“It’s good,” You say, glancing away from his eye contact and suddenly feeling like a love-sick puppy in the way you feel so incredibly fucking shy right now by this man.

He notes that you didn’t ask what he meant by the song being picked for you, but he doesn’t push it. He’s better at talking with his body anyway.

Jeno begins to focus now, opting to start slowly and work his way up, specifically to work you up. He backs himself away from the couch, centering himself in your living room as he closes his eyes and stretches his arms up to loosen his body a bit more. Most of his clients love to see the way his muscles move as he stretches, so he hopes you’re of the same mind.

This entire playlist is one he picks for clients like you. The ones he intends to let see all of him if they ask. The music is slow, the bass is strong, and each beat runs through his body in a way that makes him feel like he can move like he’s fucking you from across the room without so much as a touch.

He’s at his best when this sort of thing happens inside of him, the eye contact is more intense, his hips are more pointed at a reason other than payment, and he feels his most attractive like this too.

You’re sitting painfully stiff across from him on that couch, and he can’t help but keep a smirk plastered on his face for how lucky his other clients would think you are experiencing him like this for your first time of all things. He’s never attempted this with a new client, but god, look at you.

His hips move on their own for the most part, he doesn’t have to think much when he’s getting into it. Jeno easily dances along to the music for you, not yet removing any amount of clothing. It’s the build-up for him, and he thinks it may be that for you too. Though, of course, if he leaves your house tonight with tips in his pockets and a hard, untouched cock, that’s fine too.

You watch him, seeing the way the dim lighting of the room accentuates each little dip and rise against his chest and abdomen. He’s well-defined, with an immaculate body for this line of work. You find yourself understanding why he’s so favored in the group of lonely women.

As the song begins to fade, Jeno appears to readjust himself. He watches you during the brief silence, a sort of fondness in his eyes making you wonder if he’s looking at you or if he does this for everyone. It felt intimate, and not at all like the silence needed to be filled with anything other than eye contact.

For him though, a woman has never met his eye between songs. Usually, their eyes are glued to his chest, cock, hands, and neck– never his eyes. When the next song begins, he closes a bit of distance and skews his body so that you’re now watching him in profile.

In some way, you have him feeling a bit flustered in the way you keep meeting his eye despite his body making a show for you. He’s never had to act with his face more than he has at this moment when he’s dropping to his knees during a bass drop, thrusting his hips forward in an attempt to make you imagine yourself bent over on the floor in front of him, you’re still searching his face.

Only glancing down for a moment, he finds himself flicking his own eyes down, trying to guide yours somewhere else. He knows his job is to be looked at, to be seen, but this is far too seen for his liking, but when you gasp as his motions, skewing your mouth open slightly and gripping the hem of your dress, he realizes.

The fact that this is your first time doing this is one thing, but the way you are experiencing it appears to be new ground for him. Typically, he speaks with his body, and it appears that now, he needs to portray some form of sexuality to you with his eyes. So, he does what you’re supposed to be doing.

You watch him intently, not fully realizing that you’re not even watching him fuck the air in front of him. His eyes move from yours once again, this time to your body. He watches the way your fingers grip the fabric of the dress he would like to see somewhere on the floor later. He watches the way you slightly rub your legs together, almost too easy to miss. That alone was enough for him as his eyes bore holes into you, much like you should be doing to him.

Jeno’s dancing turns more intentional, when he leans back on his arms, throwing his head back but keeping his eyes on you, he tries to show you what he would do to you specifically. You glance at his hips and the way he rolls them up, not even to the beat of the song.

His blazer begins to slide off his shoulders by this point, and he continues his movements, watching the way your eyes take in the sight of his skin becoming more and more visible, you’re fighting now to keep eye contact as you stare at the way his abs flex when he presses forward. It’s a shame you’re not seeing his cock grow beneath his pants, honestly.

With his blazer now pooled at his wrists, he finally pulls his eyes from you to try and regain his focus. He wants you so bad right now, and it’s bullshit because you’re supposed to be the one thinking like this for him. He can see that his movements are causing a reaction for you, but god, he’s practically masturbating himself against the inseam of his pants just to get you to say something to him.

It’s time to turn it up a notch, the current song is soon to be replaced with another. His favorite song to dance to, his favorite song to fuck to. Because to be fair, by the time it hits the third song on this specific list, usually his clients are already shaking under him. Not you though, you’re holding yourself back, he can fucking see it.

Ignoring the fact that it’s technically not time for him to move on to his next move-set, he leaves his blazer on your floor as he positions himself back on his knees, turning towards you this time and looking you straight in the eye. The fact that he’s hard and horny is enough to bring his confidence up enough to be seen in any way you’re looking at him.

He’s slow when he does it, crawling a few steps closer to you. You watch his shoulders move in the light, his eyes dark, and his hair starting to fall from its perfected position. You don’t mean to, but you rub your legs together in a more obvious way at seeing him in front of you, coming towards you in such a way.

Jeno looks smaller when he’s on his hands and knees, eyes looking up at you as if he could eat you whole. You wonder if your face reads the same for him, and nervousness begins to hit you again.

“You’re hot when you look down at me like that.” He says out of nowhere through the music, stopping in place and planting himself right at your feet. “I’d like to touch you for this next song, is that okay?”

Never mind the fact that Jeno has never asked to touch a client before. He’s never had to ask. He can’t help it though; it doesn’t hurt to try right? Because his cock is aching in his pants, and he isn’t quite ready to wait for an entire two more songs to get them off just for you to see that he’s very much wanting to fuck you right now.

On the other hand, you were so fucking fast to accept. Yes, yes, he can touch you. You want him to touch you. The entire idea that he’s just doing his job is so far in the back of your mind right now that you almost forget that he probably does this to most of the women he’s paid to see. Quite frankly, you don’t give a fuck.

Jeno smiles at you as the current song finally begins to fade out. The silence is back and this time, you’re not looking into his eyes when you nod at him.

He’s slow when he places his hands on your knees, rubbing up, up, up, until he’s able to lift himself from his knees and hover over you. Did he intentionally push your dress up your thighs? Yes. He wanted to see you rub them together in full shameless view for him. He wanted to know what his body does to you. Jeno stands hovering over you for a moment, hands staying on your thighs as he stares down at them as you do just as expected. For a moment, he forgets he’s supposed to be dancing for you, hell, he’s already shirtless and covered in oil.

“I’m going to get on top of you, okay?” He explains, removing his hands from your thighs and now gripping the back of the couch again as he did before.

“Do you do this for all of your clients?” You ask with a smile, suddenly and intensely into the man spreading his legs to prop himself up on your laugh.

He shakes his head with a laugh, grabbing your hands and placing them on his chest.

“You can touch me, by the way.” He foregoes his own rule, not wanting to wait any longer for you to ask him yourself. “Just pull away if you don’t want to.” He adds, guiding your hands over his chest and down his abdomen.

“You didn’t answer my question–” You interrupt him, feeling your pussy drip against the fabric of your panties.

He chuckles sweetly, stopping your hands at his abs and holding them there.

“No,” He admits, beginning to focus on the music now that he’s got your hands on him. “I don’t do this for all of my clients.” He adds, swirling his hips as he hovers over you, and avoiding eye contact.

“Oh, yeah?” You nervously chuckle back, feeling his muscles move beneath your hand as he thrusts his hips forward and back.

“You know,” He suddenly says, guiding your hands a bit lower. You feel the cold metal of his belt buckle against your palm. You think he’s going to stop there, like maybe this is just something he does to amp up the show or something, but no. He drags your hand down further until you feel the fabric of his pants rubbing harshly against it.

Your pulse begins to ring in your ears as you avoid looking to where your hand is right now, taking in a deep breath and shooting your gaze up to his. He’s not looking at you though. Jeno has dropped his head, staring at where he’s got your hand, and his hips are dancing into it, against it.

“I’ve never gotten this hard over a client that doesn’t want me.” He admits shamefully in a pathetic little laugh, bucking against your palm again to the beat of the song. “I can’t tell if I’m doing my job well enough,”

You continue to watch him, and then you finally look at your hand. The sheer size of him rubbing against you is…it’s something entirely different than what you were expecting from this man. It feels forbidden; it feels wrong but goddamn. The man is masquerading his dancing so he can fuck himself against your hand right now.

“You’re doing so well, Jeno,” You finally say to him. The first compliment you’ve given him since he got here.

“Oh yeah?” He questions, lifting his head to meet your eyes again. “Unbuckle my pants then.”

Despite this being a part of his job, he’s feeling a little desperate for you to do something on your own now, even if he has to tell you to do it.

“Show me how well I’m doing for you,” He raises his brows, now removing his hands from yours and running them up his chest. His hips continue to move on you, and he watches you as you hold your hand in place. “Come on, you don’t have to be shy, baby, I saw the way you were squeezing your thighs earlier.”

Like a book, the two of you read the other at this moment. You’re not a woman of many words and he seems to understand that now, taking your single compliment and running with it. You do as he says, unbuckling his buckle and pulling it from his pants.

“Keep that with you,” He stresses, pressing his hips forward again as he continues his dance.

Placing the belt beside you, you honestly have no idea what the fuck you’re doing, but you like it. You reach back to unbutton the pants, unzipping them just moments later. Then you still your hands, looking up at him with a curious face.

“Take it out, go on.” He says, “You know you can pull away if you don’t want to do anything, I’m not forcing anything. I’m asking.”

You don’t even nod or pull your eyes away from him, knowing that you’re about to touch his bare cock as he sits spread across your lap. A lewd scene, one that feels both more intimate than you’ve ever been with another person, and also nowhere near as intimate as you need it to be.

Jeno looks at you, so much eye contact becoming more and more comfortable for him as he learns what you seem to like. He can feel his cock spring free, the cool air rushing past his shaft and causing him to shiver on top of you. He still only looks at you during this moment, wondering why you’ve let your hands fall to his thighs until he sees that look in your eye again. You’re waiting to be told what to do. For some reason, he keeps forgetting that you’ve never had a stripper in your home before, let alone be seduced by one.

“Touch me,” He says gently, reaching back down to your hands and urging you to grab his cock. “You don’t have to move, I can do the rest–” He chokes out a groan mid-sentence feeling you grasp him in your fist with little effort or fear behind your eyes.

Such a silent woman beneath him. He can only read you in specific moments, which is kind of nice. You’re hesitant but willing, and he wonders if he will get to actually touch more of you after this.

Your hand is wrapped around his cock when he focuses his hips. He dances like he normally would for any woman during this song, it just so happens that he blatantly pretends to fuck to this song, because usually, he is fucking to this song. So, his dance is nothing short of fucking your fist. Still, he tries to keep up the act. He keeps his face intense, moving his shoulders and arms as if it’s easy for him not to turn the tables and position you so that your leg is on his shoulder and he’s rubbing his cock against your, hopefully, dripping panties.

A struggle especially when you tighten your grip on him. He can see your pupils blow out, and he can see the way you’d probably ask for him to touch you much like he did, so he slows his hips a bit, intentionally thrusting slowly into your fist and holding back his own moans of pleasure.

“Sorry,” he says, trying to act as though he can’t see the look in your eyes and how it’s changed since he started dancing. “I don’t like getting off on my own.” He adds, now allowing his hips to still just to see if you’d pull your hand back.

You don’t move your hand away, to his surprise, you are actually starting to move your fist on him.

“That’s good,” He groans, looking down at your hand. “It feels good,” He shakes a bit, shivering at the fact that you’re jerking him off now. “Can I stop pretending that I’m dancing for you now?”

You chuckle at him, nodding with a confident sort of smile. It hit you quickly when you watched him chase his pleasure using your hand. He’s so hard and so incredibly thick, you’d be stupid if it didn’t turn you on. You’ve barely said anything to him and he’s begging for you to look at him, watch him, touch him. You feel powerful, and you’re used to that. It feels like everything has fallen into place despite this situation being far outside of your comfort zone. You’re finding similarities. Men beneath you, begging for your money, giving you all of their attention, apologizing for normal human errors. So, what if Jeno didn’t beg for your money, he’s begging for your hands on him practically, and apologizing for asking you to do it.

“No,” You say, and you can see the shock on his face. “Keep dancing, it’s what you’re being paid to do.”

Jeno’s eyes kind of fall now as he nods his head. You almost feel his cock falter at the same time, but you move your hand a bit faster, urging him to do whatever it is that’s on his mind. You want to see if he will actually do as he’s told because you’re the one with the money.

He does his best, and honestly, his best far surpasses some of the most notable dancers on the market in his opinion. It’s just a bit hard to continue this act when you’re gripping his cock in such a beautiful way.

“You’re not going to ask me to touch you more?” He asks meekly, almost as if he’s hiding his face from you now.

You smile in response, pupils blown enough so that you can swallow each movement his body makes as he reluctantly moves to the beat. Honestly, your ears are ringing, and you don’t think you’ve heard a single lyric from the music playing since he placed your hands on him, but you think that should be a given.

“No wonder she liked you so much.” You start to speak, now loosening your grip on him just to see him frantically chase the warmth of the little circle your hand makes for him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks slightly out of breath. “You thought, I let her get me off like this?”

It almost pisses him off that you’d say such a thing to him, but then again, he didn’t exactly tell you that this situation is reserved for very few people.

“You’re talking a lot of shit for someone who couldn’t even look at me properly less than thirty minutes ago.”

You skew an eyebrow at him, watching him fight for control as he pulls his hips back and shuffles back onto his feet. You glance down at his cock and the way it stands painfully erect and twitching at the sudden lack of friction.

“You’re talking a lot of shit for a man who needs to cum.”

He stills himself, a blank expression turning to that of a devilish smile, eyes narrowing as he leans over you.

“Are you suggesting that you’ll make me cum if I stop talking?”

You smile, spreading your legs a bit and feeling the stickiness that has formed between them as he was on top of you.

“You know,” You mock him slightly, watching his eyes glue themselves to your thighs. You make a show to spread your legs a bit for him. “She told me that some clients have gotten special treatment from you, I wasn’t expecting that they were the ones getting you off.”

Honestly, it’s like he hit the fucking jackpot with you. Challenging him, mocking him with his cock out in front of you. If you so much as wiggled your pussy in front of him, he would instantly be back on his knees, letting you soak his face in whatever way you please.

“Go on, dance.” You say, “You’re still wearing your pants.”

It’s almost like a game now, he feels. You know he’s trying to seduce you and it seems you’re enjoying the fact that you haven’t let him yet. He knows that you intend to let him, so yeah, fuck yeah, he’s going to play along.

He raises a brow at you as he steps back, trying to ignore the fact that his cock is aching to be touched again. You still want your show? Good. He’ll fucking give you a show.

Jeno does as he’s told, keeping his eyes on you the entire time. He watches the way your legs spread when he rubs his hands down his naked chest, straight down to his cock where he only briefly tugs at himself. He can almost see under your dress when you do it, but the lighting is far too dim to see what his act is doing to you just yet.

When he saunters behind you, dipping his head by your neck and whispering the dirtiest part of the song into your ear, he can see your sharp intake of air, and he watches the way your breasts move with your chest as you do it.

He stays behind you now, ghosting his hands over your neck, moving down your arms, and then to your chest. He doesn’t touch, because you still haven't asked yet, but he knows the hovering alone is enough. It’s like he can feel the electricity beneath his fingers clash with whatever you’re radiating back at him.

He continues to sing against your ear, leaning further forward to plant his hands on your thighs again because that’s the one spot you already let him touch.

“Spread your legs for me.” He gently demands between lyrics.

Jeno watches for a moment from behind you, pressing his cock against the back of the couch the moment he sees your legs fall open. Your dress is hiked up past your waist now, enough that he can at least see a glimpse of the skin closest to your pussy.

“Ask me to touch you.” He says against your ear, trailing his fingers up your thighs enough to where he would need you to tell him to stop otherwise. “I just need to know that you want it.”

It’s silent save for the music playing, and his cock is aching so badly by this point that each time he rubs against the couch he’s almost breaking down to fucking beg you to let him touch you. That alone could make him cum, but god, you’re so good at playing hard to get even if it’s blatantly obvious that he’s already got you. You’re fucking playing with him, and he can’t decide if he loves it or hates it. Your silence is so damning to his dripping cock, and his skin feels so hot right now that he’s almost forgotten that he was paid to be doing anything that’s not this.

“I’m not asking for it.” You finally say, breathing in deep by the way his hands keep rubbing higher and higher, to the point that it’s genuinely difficult to not ask for it. “I want to be the one granting permission, Jeno.” You lean your head back and rest it against the cushions of the couch, and he instantly moves from your neck to look down at you.

“Oh.” He says, having no issue at all to be the one to ask, beg, plead, or cry. Whatever it takes to get a feel of you.

Another long moment of eye contact has him trailing his hands higher than before, almost to the point that there’s no skin on your thighs to touch that isn’t your panty line or pussy.

“Can I?” He asks, leaning down a bit closer so that his face is mere inches from yours. “Will you take my fingers?”

You could mistake this distance as something that should be closed between the two of you. Barely hearing his question at this moment, the only thing you want is to kiss him, and it hit you so fucking fast that you almost forgot he’s doing anything you ask of him.

“Come again?” You smile, blinking up at him.

He breathes in, giving you the same smirk that appears on his face each time you entertain him a bit too much.

“Will you take my fingers?” He asks again, this time already moving his hands to trace up your panties and feeling the wetness seep through onto his fingertips. “You’re already dripping baby; I can imagine they’d slide right in.”

Typically, you wouldn’t like being called that, but he’s done it twice now and each time it had your stomach in knots over it. His voice sounds like honey when he says it to you, and his darkened eyes only made it feel like there was some sort of desperation behind it. Finally, you press your hips up against his fingers.

“I’ll make you feel so good–” He continues, tracing his fingers up and down just to feel the sticky mess that’s there for him and him alone. “Moving your hips isn’t an answer though, baby.”

You swear he can read your mind, there’s no fucking way he would say it like that without knowing how you just internally admitted to liking it.

“Yes,” You let out shortly, darting your eyes away from him.

You can hear him release a breathy laugh and lay his head back beside your neck. His soft singing picks back up as he solely intends to listen to you now more than the music. He continuously presses his cock against the couch, holding his hips in place as he tenses his muscles throughout the time he’s spent in this position.

Your hips lightly chase his fingers. They go up when his fingers trace down, and he can’t help but smile at the way he’s getting exactly what he wants despite your sudden change of personality towards him. He likes this version of you better, if he’s being honest.

Jeno finally reaches around you and pulls at your panties, harshly tugging them down your legs as far as his arms can reach. He watches as you push them further down, kicking them onto the floor and relaxing back against the couch.

“Eager?” He tries to tease, but he knows you won't respond, and you dont. He just continues, now allowing himself to feel your bare pussy for the first time. Sure, he can’t see it in full right now, but sometimes just feeling was enough for him.

“You’re so wet right now—” He groans, pressing his cock against the back of the couch again, chasing any amount of friction he can have. His fingers slip into places he hadn’t even attempted to touch yet solely because of how wet you are. “You held out for so long.” He coos, teasing around your hole and chuckling at the way your breathing has grown a bit labored by this alone.

When you grab his hand though, practically forcing him to drive his fingers into you, he’s taken by surprise. The warmth envelops his digits in a way that is audible and excruciatingly sexy to him. He doesn’t even attempt to hold back now.

“They really did slip right in–” He rasps against your neck, scissoring his fingers into you and feeling how you clench around them. His mind is racing. “I bet you could take my cock so well.”

He’s talking to himself more than you right now, smelling your hair and becoming obsessed with the way you feel, look, and smell when you’re within inches of him like this. Better yet, he knows you won’t respond to a single thing he says but it doesn’t matter too much considering you’re starting to let out little whimpers.

“What was that?” He asks, running his other hand up your body until he gets to your neck. “Let me hear you, baby, make that sound again.” He adds as he pushes your chin back, resting his hand flush across your neck and practically holding you down that way as he begins to plunge his fingers into you.

“You can do it right?” He’s still talking, still humping your couch, still fucking you so good with his fingers. “Come on, do it again.”

It’s like he’s working for it, and god, he’s doing so well. You can’t help it when you let out a choked moan, his hand straining your neck enough that any sound would come out strained and desperate. You can feel his grasp tighten against your neck as his fingers fuck faster, harder. His palm is placed so perfectly that you can feel your clit being rubbed harshly. It’s incredibly overwhelming.

“Yes, fuck–again.” He groans, bucking his hips forward and frantically lifting his head from your shoulder so that he can look down at you again. He’s heard you, now he wants to see how desperate you are.

When you open your eyes again, all you can see is his face, all you can feel are his long fingers pressing in spots that haven’t been played with in a long time. You smell only his sweet, musky body oil, and jesus christ it’s hitting you in every spot that feels good. You can feel the cold metal of the rings on his fingers against your neck, and when he tightens his hand even more than before, another choked-out moan falls from your lips.

You strain to keep your eyes on him through this moment of pleasure, watching the way his teeth appear and scrape at his bottom lip when you make noises for him. So, you do it again, and again, and again.

He fingers only continue their aggressive assault inside of you, his palm rubbing harshly at your clit, and his other hand around your throat– honestly you could fucking sing songs to him in this moment.

“You’re shaking,” He comments, eyes flicking to your body. “Can you even breathe right now?”

His smile is so fucking mean, knowing full well that you can’t breathe and only tightening his hand as hard as he thinks you can handle can after the fact. It doesn’t even cross his mind that you don’t want this, the way you’re moaning for him is all he needs to know that you’re into this, that you like being choked and fucked.

When you moan out yet again, he releases his hand from your throat and leans down to your lips. He’s only a bit shocked that you don’t even hesitate to kiss him. What he wanted to do was degrade you, but now he’s just tasting the way you’re desperately trying to kiss him and if he’s wanting to be real right now, that was way better than his own idea.

He doesn’t kiss his clients, but at this point, things have already lasted much longer and have gotten far more intimate than they ever have with those few lucky women. He’s never asked for it, he’s never gotten so much pleasure out of finger fucking them, and he’s not once ever fucked against a couch to chase his high.

Pupils blown, he allows himself to kiss you, slowing his fingers unintentionally as he focuses on your lips and tongue. You kiss him better than he’s ever been kissed before and falling into it was terrifyingly easy. His hand moves on its own accord, cupping your jaw as he attempts to deepen the kiss past his comfort level.

But he is comfortable, and that’s precisely what’s uncomfortable about it.

“You can take it, right?” He pulls back in a breath, waiting for you to open your eyes and look at him. “My cock, please.”

Your eyes widen, somehow managing to forget that he’s been totally neglected through all of his. Are you really about to fuck this stripper? The man you were against meeting? The man who has $600 dollars in his bank account from your lovely, beautiful, amazing best friend? The man that you’re probably going to give the entirety of the contents in your purse to the moment he packs it up and moves on as if it never happened? The answer is yes.

“I can.” You look up at him, intentionally fucking yourself on his fingers now because it appears he’s stopped functioning altogether.

Within a second, his fingers are out of you and his presence is gone. You lift your head to watch him, cock still out of his pants that are also still at his thighs. He goes directly to his bag, and as if he knew it was going to happen, he pulls out a condom and slips it on without so much as a sigh of relief.

“Oh,” You let out in a huff, disappointed.

He raises his eyes to you as he lets his pants fall to his ankles and steps out of them but his face isn’t concerned nor bothered. Honestly, he has to be able to read minds or something.

“No, I don’t do this with all of my clients. I’m a man and I have needs. Needs that require protection sometimes.”

You only nod, in awe of the fact that he knows what the fuck to always say. And just as quickly as he left from you, he’s back, lifting your dress and attempting to take it off of you.

“Can I see?” He asks, still tugging as he stands in front of you.

Your pussy is aching, and you can feel the couch beneath you soaked through and probably leaving an embarrassingly large spot for you to cry about later because this fucking couch was expensive, but whatever. So is Jeno.

Lifting your arms, he slips the dress off of you and instantly presses your breasts together as he stares at them. He doesn’t hesitate this time to snatch your bra off of you either, the second your bare nipples are perked up in front of him he’s got his mouth on one and the other being pinched between his fingers.

“Right here?” He mumbles around your nipple as he savors the quick moment of seeing you in full for probably the first and only time. “You want me to fuck you here?” He mumbles again, realizing that his question wasn’t clear in the first place.

You don’t even care at this point, but, you’ve been sitting in this position for far too long and, more than anything, you want him to be the one looking up at you again. Just like when he started his second dance, crawling on the floor towards you and looking so small for such a cocky man.

“No.” you say, lacing your fingers into his hair and pushing his lips to your other nipple, just to feel the warmth of his tongue flicking against it.

“No?” He questions, sucking your nipple harshly and allowing it to pop from his lips as he looks at you. “Where, then?”

You smile at him, finally sitting yourself up fully from the slouched, lazy position you were in. Your legs close as you stand to your feet in front of him, but he still dips his head to get his lips around your nipple again.

Holding him there, your legs almost buckle at the way he slightly groans around it, sending vibrations through your chest and straight to your clit. You’re gentle when you shuffle forward, allowing him to continue his antics. Slowly but surely, you turn him around and back him up against the couch.

Only now, when you push him back and his teeth graze against your perked-up nub in a sad release do you realize that he’s… needier than you expected. His brows are furrowed, not even paying attention to the fact that you’ve just shoved him onto the couch so you can straddle him, and it’s cute, actually. He was so intimidating when he came into your house, walking with confidence, dancing with intention, finger fucking you and choking you as if he had a right to do it. But now, looking at him, it felt good.

As quickly as his brows furrowed in disappointment that your tit was no longer in his mouth, his brows lift right back up in relief when you plant yourself on his lap and grind against his cock.

It’s the first slippery touch that he’s felt all night, and honestly, he’s been on edge this entire time. You grind against him so beautifully that for the first time, he’s completely speechless.

“You’re really cute, I don’t think you realize that.” You comment, gliding against his cock and watching his hands reach out to grip your waist. “Really cute.”

He doesn’t falter at all and instead melts into it. His cheeks are a different shade now as he leans forward to resume his antics from before. All you can do is grip his hair and let him. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt the head of a cock bumping against your clit, and you’ll never forgive yourself for not making more time for this.

When his teeth begin to graze a bit harsher, and his hands start to push and pull you faster against him, you finally do it.

Angling yourself perfectly, you slide forward, perk your ass out, and then pull him back by his hair to look at him. Already, the moment he opens his eyes and looks at you, he knows.

He thrusts his hips up one time and feels the way your pussy grips around his cock with perfect aim. He slides in so fucking easily, so fast, that he’s almost seeing stars at how good it feels. He grunts heavily, feeling your grip on his hair tighten through your own overwhelming experience of being filled up.

Both of you let out a long and breathy groan at the sensation, you couldn’t help it, you had to grip onto something and it wasn't intentionally his hair but god, he seemed to love it when you dio it. When you finally regain your senses, you pull at it again, tilting his head back so that you can see the expanse of his neck and the way it moves when he swallows hard.

“Move.” You say harshly, feeling the way his cock pulses in place inside of you, and at this point you want him to make good on what he thinks you can do. You can take his cock but can he handle your pussy? It’s looking bleak, but sometimes that’s more fun anyway.

He whimpers when he squints his eyes at you, unable to fully open them as he loses himself to the feelings of euphoria and the pain of how harshly you’re holding his head back. Jeno didn’t think you could get any sexier, honestly, and as far as he’s concerned, if he moves right now, he’s going to cum. So, he doesn't. Instead, he smirks and lets his eyes close so that he can fall right back into the state of seeing nothing but stars.

Frustrated, but incredibly turned on by the way you’ve completely lost him, you start to bounce. Each time your ass hits against his thighs, he moans, and each time you grind forward, dragging your clit into his abdomen, he tenses up for you, and it’s like he’s so here but not at the same time.

“Look how pathetic you are right now,” You whisper out, hearing the wet of your pussy echo through the long-forgotten music that’s playing. “You can’t even move.”

All he does is nod his head at you with a lazy smile as if to insinuate ‘damn fucking right I can’t.’ He’s proud of it, but you’re not going to ignore the fact that his hands are still on your waist, gripping onto you so tightly that you fear he’s going to break his fingers.

“Keep going baby,” He somehow manages to say to you without a moan at all in his voice. “No one has ever fucked me like this,”

There it is. This entire time he’s been begging to fuck you, at least that’s what you thought. His voice still sounds like honey and his cock feels impressively hard inside of you that you could probably feel him in your stomach if you were to press against it. He wants you to fuck him.

“Yeah?” You boast, feeling the power go to your head as you opt for grinding rather than bouncing. Your hips are erratic as he tenses up for you. You can feel your clit hitting perfectly each time and if you were to keep going, you could cum within seconds.

You can’t even finish your thought when you look down at him. His eyes are squeezed shut and his mouth is open in a silent moan, you can see that he’s not able to take in a breath at all. You release his hair, watching the way he allows his head to fall against the cushions in what you can only assume is a pure euphoric high.

“Are you cumming right now?” You ask, out of breath.

When he doesn’t respond and you feel his hips stutter under you despite remaining static since he’s gotten inside of you, you know that now is the time.

You grind harshly, pressing your clit against him and rutting against his abdomen so that his cock is only slightly fucking into you while you chase your own high, but, alas, his fingers tighten on you.

His eyes shoot open as the sensitivity hits him quicker than he would have liked, but you don’t stop. The pain is intense from how hard you’re going on top of him, but he can see you reach your high and the image alone lets him push through the sensitivity of his post-orgasm discomfort.

Jeno seethes out praise to you as your walls squeeze against his softening cock. He studies your face, studies the way you try to close your legs around him despite being forced to stay open, and he thinks he might be a little too fond of the way your hands grip and squeeze his arms for leverage as you shake through the orgasm.

It hurts, but it kind of hurts more when he knows it’s over. After all, it kind of feels like he’s been in this room for days. Surely, he’s stayed past his allotted time frame, and surely he’s given you something far more valuable than an expensive lap dance.

When you slump over him, his cock is so fucking sensitive that he almost starts to tear up, but thankfully you were sensitive too it seems. You were gentle when you held the base of his cock, holding the condom in place as you allow him to slip out of you.

The playlist comes to an abrupt end at just the wrong moment, because it forces Jeno to realize that he hadn’t stayed at all over his paid time frame, and now all he can hear is the way his breath is entirely too uneven to move and go home.

“You okay?” You ask, noting the silence and his struggle to breathe with you on top of him. He’s staring straight up at the ceiling, not blinking, face making no readable expression. “Hey, Jeno?” You ask again, tapping his cheek.

He shakes himself out of it, eyes slowly moving over to look at you.

“That, um…” He tries to talk, genuinely, he does.

The change in the atmosphere almost freaks out you, but you try to stay calm. You saw the way he lost himself there, despite it not at all being rough or incredibly kinky. You’re confused as to why he’s acting like this, and maybe you even feel a bit guilty.

Without another word, you lift yourself onto your weak legs and stumble to find your dress. You throw it on so quickly, and it’s the only time you’ve ever felt the need to cover yourself so fast. Still silent, you head to your purse and grab every single hint of cash you have. Some two thousand or so.

Just like that, you place the cash into Jeno’s hands as he comes back to himself.

“What’s this?” He asks, looking at the sheer amount of cash in his hand. It was kind of the last thing on his mind.

“Your tip.” You try to say casually, still doing your best to catch your breath. “You can shower too if you want.”

Jeno nods, hoping to god that you don’t think he fucked you for money just now. No, he showed up for the money. Whatever happened after was because he wanted it, and he still does. Are you truly strictly business like this? You just handed him his rent for the month and then some, but for some reason it amazes him. As if he’s never been handed handsome sums of cash from drunken lonely women.

“Shower with me?” He asks suddenly, trying to lighten to mood from whatever the fuck just crept in through the silence.

He feels comforted when you smile, nodding to him with a step forward.

Did Jeno end up spending the night free of charge? Yes. Did he try to have a serious talk with you in the early hours of the morning, about how this is not genuinely something he does? Absolutely.

Did you believe him? Surprisingly.

After the shower, the mood shifted into something that felt natural. He wasn’t just some stripper you could call over for a down payment of $600, he was Jeno, a man trying to make ends meet in a city too expensive for even you.

Wanted he was, by several women of course. You, on the other hand, feel the need to mend your lonely heart with him. Not to fall in love, nothing like that. If anything, you want to take care of him, and when he grimaced at your joke, calling him your “sugar baby”, he was quick to perk up when he realized you were being serious.

It was your turn to set the rules and, possibly, break them.

“Rule number one, come to me if you’re short on money. No, you don’t have to fuck me for it, but I’m sure you’d probably want to.”

He nodded happily.

“Rule number two, stop fucking your clients. If you need to fuck, come over. Just look pretty for them and come back to me, yeah?”

The way he nodded harder that time was a pleasant surprise.

“Rule number three.”

He gasps in a show of mock shock. “The forbidden rule–” He whispers, sinking further into your blankets with a laugh.

“If–” You pause, thinking hard about if you should even assume. You forego anyway, it’s a forbidden rule for a reason. “If either of us start to like, feel things, we have to actually communicate and see where we want to go from there.”

He nods again, a glint in his eye shining brighter than he realizes. This is the first time he’s slept at a client’s house, the first time a woman has ever gotten him so fucked up. You had him down bad. He thinks he should probably stop calling you a client as well. The short-lived title turning into something he always dreamed of, though he figured it wouldn’t have happened so quickly. Sugar Mommy.

#jeno smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct-writers #neohub #lee jeno smut #jeno fic #nct fic #lee jeno fic #nct dream fic

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matthewkniesys · 1 year

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pittsburgh - trevor zegras x famous singer!reader au

a/n: so every time gracie plays a new show at the eras tour i'm making an edit for it (since shes the face claim) so here you go!! reader is currently working on a podcast so shes kinda dropping hints. her and trevor are starting to interact online a little and people know they're at least "friends". also im so sorry this is so late. hope you like it

trevor zegras x famous singer!reader

yourusernameofficial

Liked by @/ trevorzegras, jamie.drysdale, taylorswift and 864 940 others

yourusernameofficial - thank you so much pittsburgh for the amazing crowd i love you all so much especially the girl in the front row screaming her head off to my songs🫶 and look who i found in pittsburgh...louie!!! the most amazing dog oh and i guess trevor

Tagged: @/ trevorzegras

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radvxz - so what about my picture credits on the bottom row left picture??

↳ yourusernameofficial - i forgot oops

maisiehpeters - babe why are we flipping trevor off??

↳ yourusernameofficial - cause its trevor

↳ maisiehpeters - valid

trevorzegras - louie is the star of the show but that hurt my feelings

↳ yourusernameofficial - too bad i just love louie wayyy more than you

fanaccount3 - TREVOR AND Y/N INTERACTING IN THIS SOCIETY??? I CAN'T HANDLE IT

y/nupdatesss - hottest couple award goes to them for sure

*@/trevorzegras liked*

trevorzegras

Liked by @/ radvxz, jackhughes, alexturcotte and 123 958 others

trevorzegras - no i'm not following y/n around

Tagged: @/ yourusernameofficial

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yourusernameofficial - pretty sure you are actually

↳ trevorzegras - no im actually not i just love travelling

↳ yourusernameofficial - im sure you do love travelling the united states specifically to all the places you went to during the hockey season

jackhughes - trevor y/n just texted me and said you're annoying

↳ yourusernameofficial - i did just do that

↳ trevorzegras - what did i do???

↳ yourusernameofficial - i don't know you're just always so annoying

radvxz - y/n...why do you let trevor take pictures of you but not me??

↳ yourusernameofficial - i don't wanna hear it cause i know how many pictures of me are in your phone

fanaccount19 - im so happy for them!!

↳ trevorzegsishot - they look so happy together!!!

fanaccount6 - it's so cute that they're dating!!

yourusernameofficial

Liked by @/ lhughes_06, radvxz, taylorswift and 809 648 others

yourusernameofficial - he's following me

*comments on this post have been disabled*

trevorzegras

Liked by @/ jackhughes, _quinnhughes, jamie.drysdale and 200 864 others

trevorzegras - i burnt the food so we had to go out...

*comments on this post have been disabled*

yourusernameofficial

Liked by @/ lhughes_06, radvxz, taylorswift and 809 648 others

yourusernameofficial - trev sucks at playing guitar

*comments on this post have been disabled*

trevorzegras

Liked by @/ jackhughes, _quinnhughes, jamie.drysdale and 200 864 others

trevorzegras - just friends :)

*comments on this post have been disabled*

thanks for reading🫶requests are always open for fics, blurbs, ig edits and just thoughts!!

taglist: @woodruff-edwards @nicohischierz @makarhughes @cobrakaisb @huggy-hischier94 @boldysswld@cole-mcward48@kashee-h@kjohnson-91 @jackhues @corneliaskates @imma-mirrorball @hvghes @emptyflowerpots @h0e4fictionalme-n @ivy-34

join my taglist

#trevor zegras #trevor zegras x famous singer!reader #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras imagine #fake instagram edit #jack hughes #nico hischier #jamie drysdale #social media au #nhl imagine #trevor zegras au #claires au's #claire tries writing <3 #luke hughes #quinn hughes

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starlit-dreaming · 1 month

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[idea] the spiteful fake dating au

inspo from this post [click here]

obligatory tag (im an attention whore and therefore i summon thee): @lithi @hwang-lucas

tl;dr if you dont wanna click on the link:

"i know we could half-ass it, but i would never fake mistreat my fake husband, how dare you" which reads like athy to me

and

"my baby cousins are probably screwed when it comes to their chances of turning out normal, but I’d like them to have one healthy example in their life" which can pass as a caring uncle lucas

the setting and my Vision:

modern au, lucathy are probably mid-20s or early 30s im thinking??? maybe kinda like the ons/fwb au where athy's like. 28 and lucas is gonna be 30

so as the lines i've quoted state, lucas is gonna be a caring uncle whose brothers have shit show marriages. a train wreck and not gonna be healthy at all (oldest has a falling apart 15 year marriage and kids were their solution of slapping tape on the problems; youngest has a hateful wife and is a doormat probably; i need a reminder on whether or not lucas is the youngest but im gonna treat him as the middle bro atm cause its the Vibes).

and yeah, he wants Nothing^tm to do with his family, but his nieces and nephews deserve to see a healthy relationship to have as an example and damn does he hate his in-laws more than his actual family

so he asks athy to be his fake wife

(i feel like it'd be funny if they signed a marriage certificate just in case lucas deals with paranoid family (when really he's just paranoid and athy's an overthinker who HELPED him get paranoid at the thought), then they got drunk, and accidentally submitted the paperwork and just straight up forgot

"wdym you guys ACTUALLY filed the paperwork?????????" -- helena probs

"oh shit does that mean we got married fr???" -- athy, before the panic settles in

it becomes an inside joke among their friends after the panic of it wears off because now they're pretty much committed to the bit for the sake of lucas' nieces and nephews so now there are jokes about "where's your wife/husband" and "" etc etc)

athy's gonna constantly overthink it (and desperately trying to avoid ever mentioning it to her parents because her mom would be so disappointed that there wasnt a wedding and claude might kill lucas if he makes athy cry)

plus she's 100% gonna be ready to fite lucas's shitty relatives if they say something bad about him

side note: diana 100% thinks that lucas is athy's long-time bf so she's always joking with claude that lucas is finally gonna drop down on one knee any day now and claude, being a super big grump, is just "at least its not that alpheus kid"

little do they know that lucas became a legit in-law (although they still invite him for family dinners, and when its mentioned that athy's parents treat him as family, lucas's parents and grandparents take that as a CHALLENGE)

athy being petty by having a sickeningly sweet relationship and talking about how wonderful lucas is as a husband and partner because of how much she just straight up hates one of the sister in-laws

i'm self-indulgent, so i'm gonna have the classic "my sister in-law tried to sleep with my husband" stories

also idk if its just me but when it comes to fake dating aus (which i'm a SUCKER for) i think its a++++++++ when one of them casually goes "yknow if we were actually doing this for realsies, we'd probably be making out in a closet rn" and the other person sweating cause that sounds infinitely better than what they're doing rn

ALSO

the casual "oh yeah athy's crazy about that kinda shit" or "lucas would absolutely hate that lmao" and just FLEXING on everyone about how good of a partner they are to the other

and lucas, who originally suggested that they don't have to do any lovey-dovey stuff and that they can just be the same as always, ends up getting a fuming athy who more or less goes "my REPUTATION would be at stake if people found out that we broke up just because i wasn't being a loving and caring partner, so hell no!!!!!"

aksulifdfhbjdkshf i'm running on like,,,,,,, 5 hours of sleep and havent slept in like,,,,, 17 hours now

so i'm just gonna leave this unedited all-over-the-place mess here

#starlit rambles #au ideas #lucathy #wmmap #sbapod #long post

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crashing9against9the9walls · 2 years

Text

I was scrolling through South Park tags and saw @paolox3b about some episode ideas so I decided to throw my hat in the ring and share some of mine that is stuck in my head.

Craig and Those Guys - I kinda have to agree with this one, I think a CATG episode is way overdue and Matt and Trey should just give it to us. I'm also kinda curious what kind of dynamic Tweek has with Clyde, Jimmy and Tolkien so this episode could be a dealbreaker.

Eurovision Special - In a bid to get away from their dads for a while, Stan and Tolkien tricks Kyle, Kenny, Eric and Wendy to reunite Fingerbang in a bid to represent San Marino in Eurovision, in the guise of entering the school talent show. Randy and Steve, realizing their kids are missing, must team up to find them, but not before they make another special.

Goth Kids 4: Into The Multiverse of Gothness - when a new student who identifies herself as a different kind of Goth shows up in school one day, the Goth Kids realize that not only are there different kinds of Goth, but also that they do not get along and are at war with each other. It's up to the Goth Kids to save the day when they realize the fighting is breaking up the Goth-Space Continuum.

Craig Tucker vs. The World - Parodying Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, when some kid shows up and tries to beat up Craig for Tweeks hand, Craig must defeat seven evil jealous kids who only want one thing: Tweek's affection (even though Tweek doesn't know them).

The Return of Gary Harrison - When Gary returns to South Park, Stan decides to make amends with him and become a proper friend, which leads to Wendy thinking Gray is stealing Stan for himself, leading to an epic showdown that Gary doesn't really want to be involved with. Meanwhile, Tweek and Craig tries to go on a date once the attention goes to Stan and Gary. But when everytime they try to have a moment, Clyde cockblocks them for pictures he can sell to the Asian Girls, forcing them to go to extreme lengths to get away from him.

Bad Goths Club - When Michael finds out that Pete called him a poser, Eric gets the idea of placing the Goth Kids (along with Stan and Karen) in his old home where they have to stay in for one month and turn it into a reality show for all of South Park to enjoy, to the discomfort of Kyle and Kenny.

Edit: I left out some ideas because I kinda forgot about it or haven't thought of them for a while now when I looked at the post, so here's the final two.

Rise of The Country Kids - A response or callback to that one Hetalia strip where America and England turned into South Park characters. When a new kid shows up introducing himself as America and started saying things like "I'm the Hero", the gang and entire town realizes that not only personifications exist, but there are more of him and are equally as weird as him. This puts a lot of concern for Kyle, who just witnessed Cartman befriending that Russian kid with the creepy aura. Meanwhile, the ASEAN gang made themselves comfortable at the Stevens residence and the Philippines personification turned Bebe's room into a vlogging studio, to Bebe's annoyance.

Band in China II: Drop the Bass - After the closure of Tweak Bros. Coffee in Unfulfilled, Tweek turns to DJing and music production to support himself and his family, hopefully to jumpstart back their business. With the help of his friends, he became an online sensation, but what happens when he liked a tweet that will get him and his music banned in China?

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red-man-of-mustache · 3 months

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Rules and other relevant information(Mobile view)

Rule 1. I'm not at all selective with who I'll role-play with. I'd prefer mutuals, naturally, but I think if we're interacting with one another that'll come with time so I won't harp on it. I don't care about your writing length but just know sometimes I can get carried away with mine so be warned. I also don't mind doubles! Mario and Mario, Mario and Dr Mario, Shadow Mario, whatever variation is welcome. I don't do exclusivity with muses either(unless discussed). Also, I don't mind role-playing with anons either. Basically, my blog is a free-for-all. Random anons, random asks for the hell of it, go for it.

Rule 2. Personal blogs are welcome here. I'll be reluctant to follow them though as I like to keep my dash a certain way. Should you rp from a side-blog then you know what to do: lemme know.

Rule 3. This blog is multi-ship and multi-verse(ew dirty word). The main verse of course has continuity between threads so keep that in mind if you see Mario mention or otherwise reference your muse and events that happened surrounding their interaction. Verse exclusive interactions will be tagged properly. Posts without a verse tag are to be assumed main verse.

Rule 4. This is a personal mish-mash of everything Mario: the games(mainline and spinoffs), comics(Super Mario adventures primarily, Super Mario-kun is lightly followed) and the cartoons. The recent Super Mario bros movie is an origin story and I'm not sure if I'll make a verse for it yet as Mario is fresh to the kingdom and hasn't been on any adventures yet. I have headcanons that I toss into my interpretation of Mario and I'll be getting a headcanon tag going soon along with updating these rules with said tag for ease of access. I say all that to say that if I do something that you may consider off-color for Mario let me know! I take criticism. Love it actually.

Rule 5. I will reiterate: there is no set way to begin interaction. Toss me a random ask, random starters are also accepted, and my starter calls are always open(might make a perma one, who knows). My messages are open for plotting purposes or general shenanigans. Discord available upon request and I also rp there as well.

Rule 6. I will not be writing any smut. It makes me uncomfortable to try and think of Mario in that light. Sorry. No italian sausage.

Rule 7. Relationships aren't just romance. If you see potential for an ongoing friendship, maybe frienemies, partners in some grand project, let's get to working those deets out.

Rule 8. I personally don't consider much "read-more" worthy but triggers will be tagged. They won't be in the same style as my other tags, simply "tw:wires" or something.

Rule 9. Almost forgot! No god-modding.

Rule 10. If I'm taking a bit to reply and you see me replying to others then gimme a poke. Message me, tag me again, I don't mind. Most likely I forgot or real life got in the way and flipped my perception upside down. Happens more then you'd expect, trust me. Also, I reserve the right to drop a thread for any reason. I'll of course let you know should that happens. I used to be real bad about that kinda thing. This goes double for messages by the way!

This blog is quite the casual place to be( of course that's just my opinion) despite the graphics and whatnot. I'm here to have fun and indulge an old hobby of mine. If you read this far: there's no password. Just like the post so I know you read it. Catch ya on the flipside.

#ℳ ➙ Player One | OOC |#Rules

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animereaderinsertwriter · 2 years

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Previous - Chapter 2 - Next - Series Masterlist - Series Playlist

Pairing: Dabi x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags/Warnings: fantasy au, violence, smut, angst, fluff, non-major character death, pregnancy, dub con/fuck or die but only kinda?, enemies to lovers, there's an arranged betrothal somewhere in there that eventually goes away, spoilers for dabi's identity

ao3 link here

“The sacred day we know as Beltane was one of the few sacred holidays whose celebration was not forbidden by the Empire. It was a celebration of springtime, the coming summer, and fertility during the warmest and best months of the year, and so long as the imperial soldiers got their fair share of the celebration (both in terms of food and sex), everything went on quite well. However, it is worthy of note that the good gentlefolk of the Clans often forgot to warn their imperial counterparts of the danger of traveling during this time of liminality without a proper offering to give to those they might meet, and many a man with an imperial lion on his breast found himself carried off to the realm of the fae, never to be seen again.”

—Balthazar the Wise, On the Age of Unrest

A few hours before dawn's first dim glow painted the horizon, (Y/N) had nearly worked her hands free of the rope that bound her. Silently as she worked, she dedicated every layer of skin, every drop of blood as a sacrifice to the goddess; her fury flowed hot and deep, and even as she tore more flesh to wrench free, she thought of home and how every single scrape on her wrists from this encounter would be answered by swirling flame and piercing ice.

I'm coming, Shoto, she thought fiercely, finally freeing one hand fully from the rope. You won't have to worry for long.

If (Y/N) were honest with herself, Shoto had been right to try and convince her to call off this mad trip to the countryside— the dangers had obviously outweighed the benefits, if her current situation was any indication— but it was Beltane, and (Y/N) had always taken a few weeks away from the Summit to visit the people, her people before the festivals. Besides, ever since her betrothal, she'd felt more strongly than ever the need to be free and roam where she would while she had the chance. Soon, she would be a lady of Clan Todoroki, and some of that freedom would be stripped from her.

Naturally, however, that freedom would not be given lightly, nor would it be exchanged for a small, trifling price; no, for a sliver of her freedom, (Y/N) would secure peace for the people and all the protection the Todoroki name could provide her, which was no small thing, indeed. It was a good thing, too, that she and Shoto were as compatible as they were, for while Shoto would be honor-bound to seek vengeance for his betrothed regardless of the fondness between them, the act of capturing and humiliating the closest confidante of the Todoroki heir apparent warranted a hellish punishment indeed. When he caught wind of this, Shoto would be like a bloodthirsty hound unleashed from its cage; because for all that they did not love each other as lovers should, (Y/N) was as dear to Shoto as she was to him.

"You're my star-match," he'd told her once under the midnight sky as they sipped an ale strong enough to warm their very bones. "If I thought I could ever love anyone, it would be you."

Once (Y/N) made it back and told her story, Shoto would squash every man in this camp like a bug beneath his heel. Vengeance would be swift and sure, and (Y/N) hungered for it.

Just a little more, she thought, pulling the rope over the meat of her right hand. Only a few more seconds…

She was free!

Swiftly, (Y/N) glanced around, looking for something she could use as a weapon just in case she was found; a moment later, she grabbed hold of a knife Dabi had haphazardly thrown to the ground before collapsing on his mat to sleep. Now armed, she quietly made her way towards the exit, but stopped just in front of Dabi's sleeping figure, hovering there while she considered her options.

I should kill him, she thought, tightening her grip on the knife she held. It would be easy.

It was true. The human body was such a fragile thing— all it would take to end his life would be a quick drag of a blade across his throat. (Y/N) could do it without even waking him, and she'd be free to make her escape with no one the wiser until she was long gone. One smooth, solid slide of the knife in her hand, and Black Dabi would be no more, her vengeance won by her own hand.

Really, she should do it, she thought, moving silently towards the sleeping marauder. It would be wrong of her not to strike this blow for every peasant farm boy slain, for every young maid robbed of her girlhood; morally, it was (Y/N)'s duty to end his life.

At least, that's what (Y/N) told herself as she lowered her body gently over his, watching his chest rise and fall steadily.

In his sleep, Dabi looked peaceful and almost sweet. As (Y/N) placed a knee on either side of his hips, raising her knife to his neck, she thought that he could almost have been handsome if he hadn't been so evil. He had the fine, strong features of a nobleman, and in another life, she might have batted her lashes at him in the marketplace.

One motion, she told herself, placing the knife against his skin. It will be quick and easy, and more merciful than he deserves.

But before she could manage it, a lightning-fast and beastly-strong pair of hands gripped (Y/N) by the upper part of her arms, and she nearly sliced through the tendons of Dabi's throat by sheer accident.

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I interrupting your fun, pussy-cat?" asked Dabi with a dark chuckle, his voice thick with sleep. "You didn't really believe that I could sleep through all that racket you were making, did you?"

(Y/N) had thought that she had been rather quiet herself, but in hindsight, it was possible that she had been mistaken.

"You're a monster," she replied hoarsely, and Dabi pulled her down, forcing the full weight of her body down onto his pelvis. "If I don't kill you, more innocent people will die by your hand."

"Most assuredly," he agreed, smiling almost lazily, his eyes half-lidded. "So do it. Stop playing with your food and eat it."

To her horror, (Y/N) could feel the hard press of Dabi's cock against her. Desperately, she tried to move away, but Dabi held her hard and fast, his grin turning almost manic as she squirmed against him.

"Do it," he urged her, his grip on her arms painfully tight as he pulled her closer. "Kill me, purge me, purify me, O Hand of Cerridwen. All men die, but few do so beneath a beautiful woman."

(Y/N) looked at him then— really looked at him— and was suddenly struck by how familiar he seemed. Though it was dark, she could have sworn she knew his eyes from another face.

This is not his path, a still, small voice within her said, and (Y/N) lowered her blade. He has a part yet to play in this life. Let him live.

"Why hesitate?" he asked with a strange softness. "What do you see, pussy-cat?"

"A man," she replied, equally soft, and she knew she couldn't make herself complete the task she had risked everything to accomplish.

What a fine mess I'm in now, (Y/N) thought, watching as Dabi stared intently at her. I'm certain he'll do worse than tan my hide this time. Who knows what hellish punishment a stunt like this would warrant?

Just then, an idea occurred to her.

No killing, the goddess had commanded— but as far as (Y/N) was concerned, maiming was entirely on the table.

"Terribly sorry to cut this philosophical talk short," she told Dabi, tightening her grip on her knife, "But I've got places to be."

With that, she raised the blade and brought it down again just above Dabi's collarbone, driving the knife through his flesh and down into the ground. The sound Dabi made as his body was wounded could probably have been heard for miles around, and (Y/N) knew she had mere moments before the whole of the League was on her tail. Adrenaline coursing through her veins, she scrambled out of the tent and into the night, looking desperately for a means of escape.

Horses, horses— where were the fucking horses? On foot, (Y/N) would be little trouble to hunt down, but on a horse—

Ah!

A fine black stallion was tied to a tree about five yards away, and (Y/N) bolted to it like her life depended on it.

Which, incidentally, it did.

"Easy, easy," she told it as shouting and the clanking of metal could be heard from all around. "Will you let me ride you?"

The stallion snorted and beat the ground with its hoof. It became immediately apparent that the animal was of some ill temper, but (Y/N) didn't have time to be picky; she hauled herself up onto its back as best she could without the aid of stirrups and a saddle, and she held on for dear life as the damn thing bucked once then took off like a shot, carrying her out of the camp in the blink of an eye.

I’m free! she thought, laughing hysterically as the stallion beneath her beat the earth with his hooves, his gallop faster than anything (Y/N) had ever experienced. They’ll never catch me now— the moors are perilous at this hour, and these mists are so thick that they won’t be able to see even a foot in front of them. It would be a fool’s errand to chase me now.

Her joy, however, was short-lived. Not even a moment later, a shout rang out across the moors that chilled her to the bone.

"You wily little bitch!" came Dabi's voice, rich and booming as though he were close on her tail. "When I catch you, I'm going to make that thrashing I gave you look like a goddess-damned maypole dance!"

Panic overtook her as the sound of galloping hooves and that of her heartbeat intermingled, hammering in her head in a great cacophony. (Y/N) willed the horse beneath her to gallop faster, terrified of what would happen if she fell back into Dabi's clutches— but even as she did so, the damn thing stopped completely, launching her from its back and onto the ground. Temporarily, the world went black, and when (Y/N) came back to herself, she could have beaten herself for having been such a fool.

What the horse had seen— or otherwise sensed— and she had not was the fairy ring that she now lay in the middle of, the white-capped mushrooms sharing at her as though to laugh at her predicament. As the mists before her thickened, (Y/N) remembered belatedly that the same perils that existed for her pursuers existed also for her— and the mists at this hour held more than just physical obstacles.

"Where are you, you wretched bitch?" Dabi called out, oblivious to (Y/N)'s peril. "You can't hide in the mist forever!"

(Y/N) should have just let him wander off into the mists without breathing so much as a word in warning— ironically, if she had, it might have kept Dabi from discovering her and stumbling into the fairy ring— but (Y/N) just couldn't help herself. She called out to him, doing the best she could to dissuade him from searching for her.

"Stay back!" she yelled out to the moors, hoping like hell that Dabi would understand. "Turn away, Dabi! It isn't safe!"

There was a somewhat muffled reply, but before (Y/N) could process it, a hand dropped to her shoulder, startling her. When she turned to see what— or who— had touched her, her blood ran as cold as ice.

Greetings, blessed one, the creature above her seemed to say, its eyes soft and considerate, though they were also the unsettling shade of ichor gathered in a wound. You are far from home.

The creature— one of the aes sídhe, (Y/N) could only assume from its humanoid shape and colorless visage — held out a wooden cup for her to drink. As she took it, she also noticed another, smaller aes sídhe, one who looked to be possibly more feminine, hiding a little ways back.

Fear not, Hand of Cerridwen, said the first aes sídhe, straightening itself from where it had bent to speak to her. Drink of the cup, and you will be well.

The first rule of the supernatural was to never, ever eat or drink anything offered to oneself by a nonhuman. (Y/N) knew this rule well, as it had been beaten into her derriere as a young novice in the temple who liked to skive off her lessons, but she’d had no water in the past several hours. A mere moment ago, she would have killed for even a single drop of something liquid… and even now, confronted with a strange being who didn't feel the need to move its mouth to speak, (Y/N) wasn't sure where she stood any longer.

"What will this drink do to a mortal body, O Fairy of the Ring?" (Y/N) asked, finding herself a bit shocked that she had reverted to the Old Tongue, as she hadn't quite realized what language the aes sídhe had mentally addressed her with. "I believe you bear no ill will, but do you know of its effects?"

The aes sídhe shook its head.

It is naught but the water of our land, our people, blessed by the goddess, it said, and (Y/N) peered into the cup, finding the liquid that lay within as clear as spring water. Drink now, little sister of the Mortal Lands, and taste the blessing of the Land Undying.

(Y/N) knew better, but she drank the cup dry. The water— smoother, sweeter, and more viscous than anything she'd ever drank— was gone in a matter of seconds, and the aes sídhe extended a hand to her, intending to help her to her feet.

"Back away," came a low, rough voice from behind. "Come one step closer, and I'll burn you to ash."

(Y/N) turned, her body trembling and her mind racing at hearing the Old Tongue once more— Aloud! From a human!— and then everything in the world seemed to slam to a screeching halt as she realized that the voice belonged to Dabi.

Oh, he was angry now. His chest was heaving, his sword was drawn, and his eyes were wide like a snarling beast's. He charged at her, flames coalescing into existence in the palm of his left hand, and for one awful moment, (Y/N) was struck with paralyzing fear.

He's going to kill me, she thought, terrified. My lineage, my legacy ends here—

But then Dabi strode past her, only stopping once his body was fully in front of hers, his feet planted solidly at shoulder-width before her.

He wasn't trying to capture (Y/N); he was protecting her.

Ah, a champion for the little sister, said the ais sídhe, a little amused. A man for the woman of the goddess.

"I am no one's man but my own," Dabi shot back. "I said get back."

At that, (Y/N) scrambled to her feet, alarmed.

"You fool!" she hissed, tugging at his jerkin. "That's an aes sídhe, it could squash you like a—"

"I know what it is," he snapped, shrugging away from her. "Get out of here while you still can, I'm giving you an opening."

(Y/N) wanted to laugh… only, she felt much closer to crying.

"Dabi," she said in Common, yanking him backwards as the aes sídhe looked on. "I'm the Hand of Cerridwen. I don't need an opening."

Dabi turned to look at her then, eyes narrowed.

"The fuck are you on about?" he asked, matching her languge, and the aes sídhe took that moment of distraction to close in.

You feel such anger, such bitterness, it said, its large hand gripping Dabi's jaw. It gives you strength, mortal, but it makes a poor sacrifice.

"Sacrifice?"

Dabi looked genuinely confused, and (Y/N)'s heart sank as she noticed the faintest rays of light coming through the fog.

It was the dawn of Beltane, and Dabi had nothing— no pouch of seeds, no bouquet of spring flowers, no summer crops— for the aes sídhe.

It is Beltane's dawn this morn, and you have crossed into our land, the aes sídhe told him, releasing his face. You mean to say that you come without an offering?

(Y/N) didn't know what to do. There had to be a way to stop this madness, and yet without an acceptable gift, the aes sídhe were well within their rights— well, certainly within their habit, in any case— to do with Dabi as they would. Death would be favorable in a situation like this; aes sídhe were fond of taking wayward humans into their fold for, ah, recreational purposes. If (Y/N) couldn't invoke some right, weasel out through some technicality, Dabi would be—

Sai'dor.

All three of them— (Y/N), Dabi, and the aes sídhe— turned to look at the aes sídhe's smaller companion, who now approached.

What is it, sweet one? asked the first aes sídhe— Sai'dor, apparently— and its companion looked at (Y/N) with a sheepish expression.

I have foreseen this, it said. Its eyes never left (Y/N), and she felt suddenly discomfited by the depth of its scrutiny.

Sai'dor shook its head, then spoke a phrase that (Y/N) didn't understand.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dabi demanded. (Y/N) could have punched him, but before she got the chance, the smaller aes sídhe spoke up.

The fields are ripe for sowing, it said with a tiny smile of shiny black teeth, and there is more than one kind of seed. Let that be our gift to the goddess; in receiving your offering, we give also our own. Provided, of course, that the Hand is willing.

(Y/N)'s heart sank to her stomach. It all became painfully clear what the aes sídhe expected of them, and she was sick at even the thought.

It has been foreseen, said Sai'dor almost gently. Consider it wisely, little sister.

That was it, then. One way or another…

Her hand drifted to her torso, and Dabi looked horrified.

"Absolutely not," he said, once more in Common. "I refuse."

It was almost cute, (Y/N) thought, how he suddenly wanted to play the hero now. Cute, but ultimately futile.

"You can't refuse," she told him, pulling him once more to her by his shirt. "You should have left like I told you to. If I had been by myself, none of this would have…"

(Y/N) didn't finish her sentence, but Dabi's eyes widened, first in understanding, then in panic.

"Fuck," he swore.

(Y/N) let out a hysterical little giggle, wondering whether or not this was what it would feel like to go insane. "That's the idea."

Dabi turned to her, piercing her with eyes of azure, his expression determined.

"I won't do it." There was no anger left in him, only acceptance. "If you're truly free, then go. I'll deal with this."

(Y/N) shook her head. She didn't know what the right answer to this was, but she did know that she wouldn't be leaving Dabi here to face this alone. He might have been a murderous bastard, but he had risked his very life to save her, and that in itself had value.

Would it be so bad? she wondered, taking in Dabi's strong jaw, his slender nose. He's a bit patch-work, sure, and he's a murdering bastard, but… he's not bad-looking.

In any case, it couldn't possibly be worse than two weeks in an imperial dungeon, could it?

(Y/N) closed her eyes for a moment, and when she reopened them, she looked on Dabi with the eyes of the Mother— eyes that saw brokenness, not vileness… pain, not anger. This man, as well as any other, had the potential to be good, but he had made terrible choices. Even so, the Mother had a plan for him, and (Y/N) was resigned to play a part and bear witness to it.

"Come, Dabi, make your peace," she told him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "In all things, we must endure."

He stared at her with a blank expression instead of finishing the platitude.

"What?"

(Y/N) sighed. Men always required too much explanation.

"I'm hardly a virgin, and you're hardly unhandsome," she told him, her eyes locked with his, "And unless your tastes run in the other direction, I think we should manage just fine."

Dabi looked at her as though she'd taken a bite out of a plague rat right before his eyes, and (Y/N) fought the urge to laugh.

"Have you lost the fucking plot?" he demanded, batting her hand away.

And here she was hoping that an amoral blackguard like Dabi would be an easy lay. So much for that.

"If I said I wanted you," she said, stepping even closer, "Would you deny me?"

There was hesitation in Dabi's eyes, but there was skepticism too.

"Not even an hour ago, you would have killed me," he told her. "How am I supposed to believe you want me now?"

(Y/N) wet her lips. Dabi followed the action with his eyes, and she knew she had him.

"An hour ago, I didn't know you spoke the Old Tongue," she replied, placing a finger gently over his lips, tracing the seam of them. "An hour ago, you were my captor, the man who stripped me of my dignity before a camp of marauders."

Dabi grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand away, but he did not release her.

"And what am I now, priestess?" he asked. His eyes— still so familiar— burned with an intensity unlike anything (Y/N) had ever experienced, and she swallowed thickly before she replied.

"You're the man who risked his life to save me." Suddenly emboldened, her eyes opened with godly insight, she added, "In fact, you're a nobleman's son who has chosen the wrong path, a would-be lordling that I might have flirted with at festivals, had we been in the same circles. You are so much more than you would have had me believe— and now I'm baring myself to you in the same way you've unwittingly done for me."

Dabi shook his head.

"You lie," he told her, crossing his arms. "If you can't do any better than that, then— mph!"

There were few things in the world indeed that couldn't be solved by a simple kiss. This situation, (Y/N) supposed, would certainly not be hurt by one.

"Could you speak to me in the Old Tongue again?" (Y/N) asked against his lips, wondering if it was herself or the goddess talking. "I haven't heard it since the war ended, except for—"

(Y/N) stopped short, stricken with shame at the thought of her betrothed. Shoto also spoke the Old Tongue when his father wasn't around to scold him for it, but instead of the usual joy the thought of him brought, (Y/N) felt only guilt and sorrow.

"Is this really what you want?" Dabi asked, adopting the language of the ancients once more. "Your eyes are sad."

I am the High Priestess of this land, (Y/N) wanted to say. When has what I want ever truly mattered?

Instead, she shook away that uncharitable thought and kissed him again. The texture of the scarred skin of his lower lip was strange but pleasant against her own, and she pressed forward, deepening the kiss, allowing her hands to come up and trace the metal embedded in his skin with her fingers. As she did so, strong, calloused hands cupped her shoulders, first pulling her closer, then pushing her back; (Y/N) opened her eyes, puzzled by the motion, but when she saw where Dabi was looking, she couldn't quite blame him.

A little ways away, the aes sídhe were sitting in the grass, the vines they wore as clothing shed to reveal their forms as they touched and kissed. In the early light, they looked like the ghosts of lovers who had died together, having run off to the moors to fulfill their forbidden vows. For a moment, (Y/N) wondered if that truly was what they once had been.

"Look at me," said (Y/N), moving Dabi's face back to hers with a gentle hand. "I'm the woman who is about to give you her body. As such, I deserve your full attention."

Dabi's eyes were soft then, softer than they had a right to be, and he returned her words with a kiss of his own. He kissed her deeply, his tongue pressing forward past her lips, and he caressed the very place on her neck where he had choked her before as if in silent apology.

"It's not in me to be gentle," he warned her, his lips moving to tease at her ear. "If that's what you were hoping for, you should say so now."

With a quiet smirk, (Y/N) grasped his cock through his pants.

"Don't coddle me," she replied as Dabi inhaled sharply. "Unlike this New Religion's virgin queen, my goddess doesn't require those who serve her to remain untouched. I know my way around a man, and man has known his way around me enough to know that I like it rough."

Dabi huffed a laugh, then winced, drawing back to clutch at his shoulder. It was then that (Y/N) remembered the wound she'd given him earlier, and she scratched the back of her head, sheepish.

"Lie down on the grass, and I'll take care of that for you," she said, pressing her fingers around the wound. "It'll make things easier, more pleasant."

Dabi brushed her away.

"It's cauterized," he said, "And something else for nothing— you won't be the one giving orders around here."

So saying, he fiddled at unlacing her shirt, revealing her breasts. Eagerly, he lowered himself to kiss between them, taking one in each hand as he left markings there with lips, tongue and teeth. Impatient, anxious to be done, (Y/N) fisted a hand in his hair, unsure of whether she wanted to pull him up to kiss her or down to have those teeth scrape against her nipple, but he tugged against her with such force that she was worried she would rip the strands from his head no matter what she chose.

"Pushy, pushy," he grumbled against her skin, nipping the sensitive skin of her left breast as a calloused thumb brushed over her nipple. "Pull my hair all you like, pussy-cat— you're not the only one who likes it rough."

(Y/N) groaned at that, but then Dabi sank to his knees, his hands at the laces of her breeches. Teasingly, he rubbed the heel of his palm against her sex, and she threw her head back at the sensation.

"Like that, do you?" he asked with a grin, and (Y/N) felt the vicious urge to kick the bastard for being so smug. She would have, too, if he hadn't yanked down her breeches, grabbed her by the cheeks of her sore arse, and smashed himself face-first against her sex.

"Mm, the way you taste," he chuckled darkly against her pussy as she shuddered. "You really are divine."

Only a truly evil man could have known just how to become (Y/N)'s undoing in the way that Dabi did. Slowly, teasing, he used the big, bony knuckle of one finger to rub against her clit, using his tongue to lick the wetness from her core as he traced sensitive circles into her skin. Just when (Y/N) thought she would have to exhale a soft please, he moved his fingers to her opening and his mouth to her clit, thrusting two fingers inside her, reaching just deep enough to tease her, slowly but forcefully pumping them in and out as she rocked against him, helpless to do anything except ride the wave of her pleasure.

"Yes," she cried at one particularly hard thrust, his tongue flattening against her clit. "Dabi— Dabi please—"

She didn't need to ask him twice. A third finger was added, and the long, slender digits hammered in and out of her with a force that sent her quaking. His tongue circled her clit, and he began alternating between teasing and nipping and sucking it in a maddening cycle of pleasure-pain. (Y/N) had never felt like this— never— and she clung to Dabi's hair for dear life, hoping to the goddess and all things good that she didn't pass out from it.

"Fuck," she swore as his mouth closed gently around her clit, sending a jolt of sensation through her whole being. "Oh, oh, I'm so close already—"

Beneath her, Dabi was using his free hand to stroke himself, and watching him pleasure himself so roughly, almost punishingly, pushed her over the edge and into orgasm, drenching his fingers.

"Dabi!" she cried, pleading as he curled his fingers inside her. She pushed at his head with all her strength— she wasn't sure how much more she could take— but he didn't budge an inch. "Fuck, I've finished, I've come, I—"

Dabi pulled away from her clit, but his fingers inside her never stopped.

"Let me see if I can make this situation any clearer," he grinned, sharp and carnivorous. "This isn't about you, pussy-cat. It's about me."

With that, he buried his face between her thighs once more, and (Y/N) could almost have cried at the sensation of too much and yet somehow not enough. It felt as though Dabi was going to consume her entirely, and in that moment, (Y/N) wasn't quite sure that she would object.

It's been too long since I've been with someone, she thought as Dabi finally, finally withdrew his fingers, switching hands so that the wetness from her covered his prick as he stroked it. I've spent so long on my own that I had forgotten what being with another person feels like.

Since her betrothal to Shoto, (Y/N) hadn't been with anyone, especially not Shoto himself. Despite the immense, all-consuming love they had for one another, it wasn't that kind of love, and it hadn't felt right to engage in such a thing until it was expected of them to do so… but now, faced with a blue-eyed devil who looked like he could rearrange her insides, she almost wished she had been a bit more in practice than she was.

"Who did this to you?"

In the time that (Y/N) had lost to her musings, Dabi had still been kneeling before her, watching her intently. He was looking at her now with darkness in his eyes, and suddenly she felt very, very naked, and a little fearful.

"Didn't you hear me?" he demanded, splaying a hand over her thigh. "I asked who did this to you."

Ah, (Y/N) had forgotten. The scars.

All across her body were scars from the war. Either from healing the wounded or sustaining her own injuries, scarring was inevitable… but what Dabi was doubtless referring to was the scars she obtained during those fourteen days of captivity.

The matter of her scars, however, was none of Dabi's business.

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours," she replied curtly, and Dabi snatched her to him, somehow still commanding despite being eye-level with her crotch.

"You and that smart mouth," he growled. "If I had more patience, I'd teach you a lesson about sassing me."

"You don't have it in you, craven," she shot back. Bitterness of the past welled in her, threatening to drown her, but Dabi was too quick to allow it. Mean, nasty thing that he was, he swung a single powerful arm behind her, landing a sweeping blow to her knees, and she took a hard fall right onto her ass. Now angry, she made to scramble to her knees, but she was too slow; Dabi was on top of her, his cock hanging long and hard from his breeches, and he wrapped a hand around her throat, suddenly vicious once more.

"Silence," he ordered, this time in the Old Tongue, and (Y/N) couldn't fight off the shudder that ran through her body at the command. "You wild animal, you untamed beast— I risk my sorry neck to save you, do everything I can to keep you from harm and you— you stand there talking to me like I'm some serving boy, like I'm beneath you— fuck, I can't stand it!"

He kissed her then, furious and forceful, and her hands found themselves once again in his hair, pulling him closer as his tongue forced itself between her lips. (Y/N) wanted to consume and be consumed; at once, she felt drunk, feverish, and the slide of Dabi's cock against her was an unbearable temptation.

"You said you hate me?" he told her, pulling away to look at her with those eyes that were more blue than the sky, more wild than a rabid wolf, "I can promise I hate you more, pussy-cat. You weak-willed woman, you worthless bitch— you and yours fucking gave away everything that I fight for, everything that was taken from me, and yet here you are, so fucking beautiful that I want to crush your skull beneath my hands just to get away from you. You are every mistake I never would have made."

"You're insane," she snarled, biting his lip, and he bit back. Hard.

"Count on it," he growled right back. "We can't all be well-adjusted like you, Your Worshipfulness— though I question how begging for a criminal's cock is any form of sane for a straight-laced boot-licker like yourself."

"I did not beg—" she protested, but then she was being shoved onto her hands and knees, her face full of dirt and her ass in the air as Dabi's cock slid between her thighs.

"Maybe not," he said, bending his body over hers so that they were touching back-to-chest, "But you will."

Dabi snuck one hand around her to play with her too-sensitive nipples, and the opposite arm forced her into a headlock. He kissed and licked and sucked all along her neck, and (Y/N) shuddered at the feeling of his cock sliding along her folds, always close but never enough. It was maddening, but (Y/N) would not beg, she wouldn't, she'd die before she lowered herself to that—

"Please," she gasped as he licked the shell of her ear. "Dabi, I— I'm sorry, I didn't mean what I said, I just—"

"Beg," he snarled, his teeth skimming the back of her neck, teasing at a bite.

(Y/N) shivered.

"Fuck," she hissed as one of his arms circled her neck. "Please, please, I want you to fuck me."

He chuckled darkly against her, raising the hair there with the warmth of his breath.

"You think that's adequate?" he asked, tightening his forearm so that it was almost strangling her. "Are you so unaccustomed to asking nicely that 'I want you to fuck me' is the best you can do? Pathetic. You don't even know my real name; you never even fucking asked for it."

(Y/N) didn't know how else to beg. She rocked herself backwards into his cock, hoping for something, anything, but all she got for her efforts was a stinging bite to her collarbone.

"Ask me for my cock," he said against her skin, rutting his cock even harder against her. "Beg me for it."

(Y/N) almost wanted to cry. What else could she possibly say or do?

"Please," sobbed (Y/N), fisting her hands in the grass. "Please, please give me your cock, Dabi, I want to feel you, I want to come with you inside me, I—"

Dabi released her from his headlock then, and lacking the strength to hold herself up, she collided with the ground so hard it made her jaw ache.

"Call me by my name," he told her, grabbing her by the hair. "Ask me what my name is."

"Y-your name—" she gasped as he was suddenly inside her, filling her. "What's— What's your name?"

"Call me Touya," he murmured, his lips suddenly close to her ear as he yanked her upwards. "That's the name I want you to scream when you come."

Touya… where had (Y/N) heard that name before? There was something in the way he said it— in the whispering of it, in the nigh-upon painful utterance— that was as familiar and yet impossible to place as his eyes. She knew that name, knew it like the smell of the land just before a thunderstorm, like the banished light of a candle in a temple corridor; it was a part of her somehow, and she couldn't help but repeat it, try it on like a silken slip.

"Touya," she groaned as he began fucking her in earnest. "Where do I— oh fuck."

Dabi— no, Touya— repositioned them slightly, adjusting the angle, and (Y/N)'s words died in her throat. There were a thousand and one things racing through her mind— too much, not enough, are they seriously watching us from over there? Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me— but she couldn't focus on a single one of them. The hot slide of Dabi's cock inside her, the wild, erratic thrusting of his head against her insides, all of it was too much, and all she wanted was to not think.

"That's it," Dabi praised her, pistoning his hips. "See, you can be good, pussy-cat— and if you're very, very good, you'll get the cream you're hoping for."

"Touya," she gasped. "Touya, I—"

"Quiet, now," he told her in the Old Tongue, his hand coming around to circle her clit. "Find your mountaintop."

And wasn't that beautiful? Find your mountaintop, he'd told her— of course, it was just an Old Tongue nicety referring to an orgasm, but as (Y/N) was sent careening towards her own, it seemed so poetic.

(Y/N)'s second orgasm felt like free-falling. Her whole body was a-tremble, and adrenaline coursed through her, carrying its own high. If she would have been cognizant enough, she would have been ashamed at how she cried out, how wrecked she had become as Dabi finished inside her, but all she could do was sink against him, at once heavy and weightless as she collapsed against him.

"Shit," said Dabi, pulling her up and steadying her on her knees, his skin warm and wet where they connected. "You don't do things by halves, do you?"

(Y/N) wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but decided to let that be a problem for her future self to suss out; she faded in and out of consciousness until she finally succumbed, warm and safe in the arms of a strange man with two names and familiar eyes, whom she hated and yet trusted with her life.

I'm sorry, Shoto, she thought as the darkness of her inner being took over. I hope you can forgive me.

***

Dabi had never felt so emotionally raw after sex, but he supposed there was a first time for everything.

The Hand of Cerridwen lay sprawled out over his body, her own having consumed too much of her energy to maintain consciousness. Truth be told, Dabi might have passed out right along with her if only his bloody stab wound from earlier didn't hurt so bad. The sharp pain of it kept his body thankfully awake and alert, but his mind was hazy and unfocused as he held (Y/N) to his chest, wrapping his arms around her torso and wondering what the hell he was supposed to do from here.

You reveal much, Black Dabi— or should I say, young Todoroki.

Dabi flinched at the echo of the aes sìdhe's mind-voice in his head. He'd nearly forgotten they were there.

"Is that a threat?" he asked tiredly, and the aes sídhe let out a breathy sound that might have been a laugh.

Merely an observation, it said, patting the back of its mate, who was still busy between its thighs. You reveal everything, and she reveals nothing— and yet— how amusing!— neither of you are the wiser.

Dabi wanted to ask for an explanation, but even blinking took too much effort.

Still, mused the aes sídhe, I suppose you do make quite a pair. Though there is much you do not know and cannot see, your child will be strong. My mate has foreseen it.

A sinking feeling settled in the pit of Dabi's stomach, but he refused to succumb to it. The Beltane sunrise was long past them, and he had little time to worry about a child of all things. He needed to dress himself, dress (Y/N), and get out of this mad fever dream; if he didn't get them back to camp soon, who knew what would happen in the meantime.

"Come on, priestess," he sighed, pulling out of her as he struggled to pull up his pants without throwing her naked form to the ground. "Wake up, pussy-cat, we've got a long way to go."

She woke, if you could call it that— (Y/N) was alert enough to stand, but dazed and disoriented as Dabi dressed. Feeling foolish despite his coherency, Dabi helped her into her clothes once he was done with his own, pausing only once when he felt metal against his skin. Looking down, he caught sight of a glint of gold on her hand, and upon closer inspection, noticed that there was a plain gold band encircling the ring finger of her left hand.

An engagement ring.

This just keeps getting better and better, he thought to himself, cursing his own naivete. He had supposed (Y/N) to be unattached, a spirit free to roam the land as she wished; but under the Empire— with their New Religion and their woman-hating and their flaccid fucking pricks— it was no surprise that the High Priestess had attached herself to a man who could protect her and give her rights in their world.

A man who could hold her back, maybe, Dabi thought bitterly to himself as he whistled for the horse (Y/N) had stolen away from him. A man who could punish her with impunity under the law— a man who is rich enough to buy that pretty chunk of gold and fancy that he owns her.

Dabi might have crossed a few lines himself, but at least he knew there were bloody lines.

Farewell, Todoroki Touya, said the aes sídhe with a toothy grin as Dabi's own black stallion approached. May your path be shaded and your burdens be light.

Dabi nodded in return, helping (Y/N) up onto the great beast before situating himself behind her. Bandit— for that was the name of the horse— snorted contrarily, but eased into a canter at the nudge of Dabi's heel into his side.

She took both of us for a ride today, huh, old boy? Dabi thought fondly at the stallion. Had her way with man and beast alike, and now we have to carry her sleepy little arse back.

It was curious; no one— no one— had ever ridden Bandit besides Dabi and lived to tell the tale. Scarce had a fool's arse cheeks touched that animal's back that weren't smashed beneath several hundred pounds of warhorse… and yet (Y/N) had convinced the stubborn beast to gallop for her. How she managed it, Dabi would never know, but he had to admit that watching that wily lass ride at breakneck pace across the moor had seemed something of a dream. She was the finest rider he'd ever seen, too, and he began to wonder what it would have been like to know her in a world without an inheritance of war.

"Touya," she said, stirring suddenly in front of him. "I know that name."

Slowly, she turned to him, and Dabi felt his cheeks flame as she looked at him with searching eyes.

I revealed too much, he thought, thinking back the words of the aes sídhe and his discovery of her engagement ring, And she revealed nothing at all.

"Who are you?" she asked earnestly, pressing him. "I know you're high-born, so don't lie."

"Don't call me that unless we're alone," he told her, refusing to meet her gaze. "Who I am is of little consequence."

(Y/N) turned around then, but Dabi knew the conversation wasn't over— after all, a woman never loses an argument, she only postpones it— but even so, he was glad to regain their peace, especially once they approached the camp. It wouldn't do for the men to see his reclaimed prize as anything but tired and pliant to his will after the stunt she had just pulled.

"Dabi!" Twice exclaimed, jogging up as soon as Dabi reached his tent. "Thank the goddess— we thought you were a goner for sure!"

Dabi huffed a laugh. "So did I. Here, help her down and into the tent— I'm going to get something to eat, and then I'm going to sleep. The first man that wakes me up before I'm ready had better hope we're being ambushed, because if not, I'll have his guts for garters."

That didn't quite happen, though; as soon as Dabi had eaten and settled in, he found himself wide awake, staring at (Y/N), who was fast asleep on the furs he liked to lounge on. She was so innocent and peaceful in her sleep, but the image of what lay beneath her clothes haunted Dabi like a wraith in the night. Those scars… he had never seen their equal on a woman. He wanted to touch every single one, wanted to know their story— the war had affected everyone, he knew, and the tales of the valor of Cerridwen's Chosen had inspired the nation in times of desperate need— but he was almost afraid of what he would find. There was already so much rage within him that any more would surely crack open his ribs and spill from the seams in his flesh like froth from the mouth of a rabid wolf.

“Hey, pussy-cat,” he murmured to her, expecting no response. “What’s your story, huh? Why did you give up the fight for this land and make peace with the Empire?"

When (Y/N) spoke, Dabi nearly jumped out of his skin. In that moment, her voice was not her own, and instead took on the deep, melodious tones of a woman many times her age.

“Because the war was lost before it had begun,” she said, her lashes kissing the skin of her lower lid. “When a bonfire is lost to the rain, it is better to carry a torch into a cave than to let the fire burn out entirely just to breathe open air.”

Dabi’s heart was going to beat out of his chest.

“Goddess divine?” he asked, sitting upright. “Cerridwen, Mother of us all?”

(Y/N) spoke no more, but Dabi knew what he’d heard. His hands shook as he peeled back his blanket, and he walked on wobbly knees over to where (Y/N) lay, placing his hand on her cheek. He caressed her skin, remembering the way he’d struck that very cheek earlier, and then and there, he vowed never to strike her again. She was fragile, this woman, but not fragile in the same way that a glass vase would be; she was fragile like a vessel of Greek fire. Dabi had been careless with his treatment of her, and suddenly, the words of the aes side came back to haunt him.

Your child will be strong, it had said. My mate has foreseen it.

If a child really did come from that union… it would be more than goddess-blessed. It would be more than human.

“Shit,” Dabi swore, brushing hair away from her face. “How the hell are you asleep?”

There was no reply, and there wouldn’t be one; the righteous rarely had any problem finding their rest.

#dabi #dabi x reader #mybigbangacademia #touya x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #dabi smut #dabi x y/n #touya x y/n #fantasy au #enemies to lovers #a suitable match (to start a fire)

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missnedge · 2 years

Text

Just for tonight (Starscream/reader pt 3)

Summary: After a harsh beating from Megatron, Starscream seeks solace in the only place he can think of. And you of course, welcome him.

Chracters: Starscream/You (Miko and Bulkhead make a special appearance)

Tags: Hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, TW for abuse and just Megatron in general cause fuck that guy, no smut but it is refrenced, mutual pining, someone get Starscream some help for the love of god.

This was written by Edge

Personal blog: @hollister-mc

Sunlight dipped into your room, you groaned and rolled over. It was your day off, you only planned on getting up when you felt like it. Or if you had to pee before your bladder bursts, whichever came first.

Three short beeps of a horn make you jolt under your covers, you huff and drag the blankets over your head. People and their shitty driving would be something that irked you till the day you died… Wait, you live pretty far out. Why would someone be honking right outside, unless…

"Y/N!!!!! WAKE UP, IT'S ROCK AND ROLL TIME!" You groan even louder into your pillow as your front door gets assaulted by Miko’s fists. "GO AWAY I'M NOT HOME!" You scream back at her, and she goes silent. You pause and raise your head. There's no way that actually worked, right?

"BOO!"

"AH!" You vault your body onto the floor with a grunt. Miko starts to laugh maniacally outside your window. You wince as you move your stiff body up off the floor, you make your way over to the window, ripping open the blinds and unlatching your window lock.

Miko stops laughing as you yank her through the window. "Ow! Geez sorry, someone isn't a morning person." She mumbles. You roll your eyes and make your way over to your dresser to scour for an outfit. "No, especially on my day off." She scoffs and flops onto your bed. "You can't just sleep the day away! It's almost noon!"

You chuckle and turn back to her, outfit in hand. "You see Miko, the point of my day off means I can spend it however the hell I want. Besides, I already hung out with you guys yesterday."

Miko jumps up and latches onto your arm, putting on her best pair of puppy eyes. "Pleaseeeee Y/n! We love hanging out with you!" You chuckle and raise a brow. "I'm an adult, shouldn't hanging around me be a buzzkill?" She laughs and shakes her head rapidly, making her pigtails flop around. "Pfft what? So what if you're an adult, you don't act like it! Plus Jack is more of a buzzkill than you."

You laugh loudly and push her out of your room. "Alright, you've convinced me. Now get out so I can change."

You shut your door and quickly get ready. After a couple minutes you head out of your room to find Miko staring at your counter. Your stomach drops as you realize she's staring at the missing chunk in your counter.

"What happened here?" She asks, glancing up at you curiously. "Oh uh…"

FUCK! You completely forgot about your poor bar that got wrecked along with you last week.

"Oh right, yeah a friend and I were uh… Doing a project, and it uh— kinda got out of hand…" You ramble as you avidly search for shoes so you both can leave quickly and drop the conversation. "A friend huh? Which one?" Miko starts to get a wicked grin on her face.

"A friend from work." You say, a bit too quickly for Miko’s liking. "Oh yeah?"

"Mmhm, yup, yup, alright let's go!" You flash a nervous grin and gesture to the door. Miko stands with her hands on her hips, giving you a disapproving look. "I thought we were best friends Y/n?"

"We are–"

"Then why didn't you tell me you hooked up with someone?!"

You let out a squeak while waving your arms around in a desperate attempt to sway her. "Whoa! Haha, where'd you get that idea?!" She scoffed and crossed her arms. "Um hello? You're like– totally blushing!... Did yall get freaky?”

You nearly screamed, you did not want to have this conversation with a teenage girl. Especially this one, who would embarrass the hell out of you for it. “I’m leaving without you!” You shouted and ran out of your house.

Bulkhead swung open the driver door as you sprinted to his vehicle mode. Miko was yelling as she ran out of your house, the passenger side opened for her as well and she climbed it. Bulkhead started driving and broke the silence. "Whoa, where's the fire?" His amused voice comes through the radio.

Miko huffs and slouches in her seat, shooting you a frown. "Y/n won't tell me about their new partner!" You roll your eyes and cross your arms, staring out onto the road. Bulkhead sighs. "Miko… If Y/n wants to talk about their relationship then they will, stuff like that is private sometimes."

The teenager groans and sits up straighter. "Fine, but I hope you'll tell me about it soon!" You laugh and reach over, ruffling her pigtails fondly. "Sure Miko, I'm just figuring things out right now ya know?"

She nods and starts to laugh. "I understand, maybe it's a good thing you're keeping it private right now. We wouldn't want Starscream to find out would we?" You choke on air, a coughing fit starting up in your chest. Miko cackles loudly and Bulkhead groans in disgust. "Ugh Miko gross…"

Right, how could you forget? Let's rewind for a second. Now, it didn't go unnoticed by team prime that Starscream had a certain… Fixation on you. Whenever the cons got involved with whatever the bots were doing Starscream always seemed to make it his mission to capture you, or at the very least rile you up.

Most everyone didn't think anything of it, even you. Just chalked it up to Starscream hating how snarky you were with him. The flirts you would shoot at him were typically done out of range from the bots or cons, you didn't want to be asked questions you didn't have the answers too.

Most everyone didn't think anything of it… Except Miko.

See, she had this wild conspiracy theory that Starscream was secretly in love with you and that the reason he always tried to capture you was so he could have you all to himself… Hilarious right? You thought so, at least, you used to. Now? You don't know what the hell to believe.

"Oh come on Bulk, Screamers would be so jealous if he found out that Y/n was dating someone." Miko says. "Look, Starscream's not the type to care about anyone but himself. Especially about a human, no offense. But I think it's safe to say that he's not capable of any kind of affection."

Miko and Bulkhead start to bicker back and forth about Starscream and you. Bulkhead may have a point. Starscream is loyal to himself, you're not sure if he is capable of affection but you sure as hell know he's capable of turning the inside of your pants into a slip and slide. Your face burns at the thought and you do your best to tune out their conversation the rest of the drive to base.

~~~~~~

Starscream walked throughout the dreary halls of the Nemesis, his posture stiff. This past week had been absolute torture. You constantly plagued his thoughts, all day, all night. Even in recharge he can't escape you. He's been on edge constantly and everyone on the Nemesis was starting to notice. The worst part was that he had also begun to slack in his work. He'd be spacing out more, snapping at anyone who'd point it out. More errors in coding and other data entries, even taking more time than usual out on protrols.

Unfortunately for him, Megatron especially had begun to notice his second in command's change of behavior.

Starscream folded his servos behind his back nervously, pausing in front of the door to the bridge. Megatron had requested his presence a few moments ago, and he had a horrible feeling that he knew what it was about.

The doors slid open and he made his way onto the bridge. The room was mostly empty, only a couple of Vehicons were posted at their station, and of course, Megatron. Starscream made his way towards his leader, every step in his pedes felt like lead. Megatron was facing away from him.

"Starscream." He spoke, voice eerily calm.

"Lord Megatron." Starscream replied.

"Do you know why I called you here?" Megatron asked.

Starscream paused. Either he had found out about Starscream's little escapade with you, or he was here to reprimand him about his slacking lately. A small part of him hoped it was something completely different, but the underlying malice in his voice told him that there was no painless way out of this.

"No my liege… I do not." He uttered. Megatron instantly picked up on his reluctance. The tall mech slowly turned around, glaring down at his second in command. “I don’t like liars Starscream. You know perfectly well why you're here. Correct?” Megatron started to circle Starscream as he spoke. The shorter mech felt his knees tremble. “I don’t tolerate slackers. You should know that better than anyone. It’s bad enough my second in command is a spineless fool who constantly plots behind my back, but I don’t need one who does poor work as well.”

“I’m sorry my–” Starscream grunted in pain as Megatron struck him across the face, the force of the blow making him crumple to the ground. “The only reason you’re still here is because you’re of better use to me here than anywhere else.” Megatron sent a kick to his side. Starcream jolted to the side, landing painfully on his wings. “Don’t make me regret it, Starscream. I’ll dispose of you myself if you stop serving a purpose to me.”

Starscream shakily tried to get to his knees but Megatron grabbed his wings and threw him to the side, eliciting a sharp yelp from the seeker. Despite the throb of pain running through Starscream, he couldn’t help the rush of relief that coursed through him as well.

Megatron didn’t know about you.

~~~~~~

You waved goodbye to Miko and Bulkhead from the top step of your house. The two drove away, blasting heavy metal. You chuckled and headed into your dark home. A yawn escaped your mouth as you flicked on the light of your living room, you set down your things on a chair and stretched. You had an eventful day at the base, Wheeljack was back on Earth visiting, so naturally the day was filled with fun and chaos.

Before you could head into your bedroom a familiar sound of an engine stopped you. Your heart instantly started to beat faster, you hadn’t seen Starscream in a week. You wait for him to burst through your back door but you hear shuffling and muttering instead. Slowly you make your way to the back door, creaking it open you see Starscream there in his smaller form clutching his side. Instantly you notice the dents and scratches littering his form. The grimace of pain in his face was enough to snap you out of your shocked stare. “Christ— What happened to you?” You swing the door open fully enough for him to come in. A hiss of pain leaves his mouth as he limps through the short doorway. “Who do you think?” He grunts out.

You shut the door and watch him limp further into the house. You chew your lip in thought, you could say the autobots but considering you were with them all day the only logical explanation was…

“Megatron…?” You inquired dolefully. Starscream said nothing as he looked to the floor, his back was to you, letting you get a clear view of his wings. They weren’t horrible wounds, he would clearly live; but the light blue energon leaking from a gash in his wing made your gut heavy in discomfort. “You’re leaking…” You mumble. Starscream continues to stare at the floor, refusing to look back at you.

You may not have the right tools to patch him up, but you could at least ease some problems. Slowly you walk over to him, moving carefully into his line of sight. The situation as a whole is bizarre, the enemy faction of your friends is here in your house injured, and while he may not be asking for help directly the look in his optics tells you everything you need.

You reach your hand forward, gently wrapping your hand around his servo, silently noting how cold he was compared to the last time you touched him. His optics dart to your smaller hand, before looking at you directly. A soft smile makes your way onto your lips. “Come with me?”

Starscream raises a brow before nodding slowly. You smile, and lead him towards your bedroom. You slowly open your door and flip on the light, you lead Starscream to your bed, gently making him sit on the edge. “Wait here, I’m going to grab some stuff.”

“Alright.” He mumbles.

You turn and walk into your bathroom, mentally going through the possible supplies you have that would be beneficial. You doubt anything antiseptic would work on him, and obviously you don’t have any welding gear, or whatever they use to mend wounds. That leaves cleaning and wrapping up injuries temporarily. So, you grab some rags.

When you come back Starscream is looking around your room from his spot on the bed. You don’t think you can get used to the tall Decepticon sitting on your bed so casually. He turns back to you and notices the stuff in your hands. “What’s that?” He asks.

“Just some rags, do you mind if I clean you up and tie off any leaks?” Starscream seems confused, before looking down at himself. “I don’t understand, am I leaking that badly? I apologize if I got energon on your things…” Your throat tightened at his words. Truly, you don’t think you’ve heard an apology come from his mouth before, let alone the absolute defeat in his voice.

You instantly moved towards him. “No, no it’s not that. Don’t worry about any messes okay? I just want to help, I may not be able to do much for you medically… But I just–” Your breath hitches as you meet his stare. He looks so broken. You briefly wonder if anyone has ever done anything for him out of the kindness in their heart. You raise a hand to his face out of instinct to comfort, but he flinches away.

Your heart shattered.

He must have seen the shock in your face, for he turned away from you in shame. You swallowed the lump in your throat, crying wouldn’t help either of you right now. So you continued to reach your hand out, slower this time. Your hand met the side of his faceplate, you gently turned his helm towards you. His optics seemed duller than before as he looked at you. You raise your other hand, the rag you had wet earlier in your grasp. With utmost care you wiped a scuff that was on the lower left side of his face.

“I don’t know your situation on the Nemesis… I know Megatron is far from being a gracious and forgiving leader, and in all honesty he doesn’t deserve the crew or position he has now…” You speak as you continue to wipe up his various scratches, his optics never leaving your face. You can feel your heart racing in your chest, yet you continue to speak tenderly. “But I want you to know that my door is always open. Whenever you need to get away from it, or if you want company, you need to vent, get cleaned up. Whatever it may be, day or night, whether I’m here or not, I will still be here for you. Okay?” You finish wiping his face.

Starscream has a look you’ve never seen before on him, then again, you haven't seen him like this ever. It hurts you to think he’s been suffering silently and alone from Megatron's wrath all this time. Starscream doesn’t know what to say, no one ever has extended such generosity and kindness to him before. At least without some sort of catch to it. So he says the only thing that comes to mind.

“Why?”

The question shook you. One word, and yet it raised so many questions inside you. Why were you doing this? Setting aside the fact that you were ‘enemies’ , Starscream wasn’t exactly the friendliest around. That, and most times you’ve interacted it was threats, bantering, or flirting borderlining taunting. Only recently did things change, clearly you skipped some steps when it comes to… whatever relationship you have with him. What relationship did you have with him exactly? You’re not really hostile anymore, friends is a loose term that doesn’t quite fit. Partner isn’t the right word, neither is lover. Fuck buddy isn’t to far off, yet would just a plain old hook up care this much about the other person? So it all loops back to the original question. Why do you care?

“I don’t know… I just do… Why did you come here instead of your medical bay?”

Starscream blinks in shock, his expression befuddled. Another moment passed, both of you just staring at each other. Finally, he speaks once more.

“I don’t know… I just did.”

A small smile grew on your lips at his words, his face softened ever so slightly. “Well then… Since we obviously have no idea what we’re doing, can I finish what I started?” He nodded.

You grinned brightly and started to get back to work, cleaning any smudges or energon leaks. Starscream watched you with a soft expression, admiring you and how you worked. He had no idea how to express to you that there was no possible way you could finish what you started, not when it came to how you made him feel. Starscream was terrified of what you did to him, more so what could happen to you or him if anyone else found out what was going on.

He watched you wrap a long cloth around his thigh, you tied it off, pausing and glancing up at him concerned. “That doesn’t hurt right?” He shakes his head, and you nod before reaching for another cloth to tie off a gash on his arm. You worked silently, briefly stopping here and there to ask permission or to check in on how he was doing. Once you were done, he honestly looked a lot better. You stood in front of him, hands resting proudly on your hips as you grinned. “All done! How do you feel?”

Starscream glanced down at himself, obviously the dents and such were still there, but surface wise you did an amazing job. “I feel better… Thank you.” The words felt forigen, but the way your face lit up was all he needed to forget the oddity of pleasantries.

For a moment, you both were staring at eachother again. The tension creeped back into the room, increasingly becoming difficult to ignore. Before you impulsively smashed your face against his you cleared your throat and gathered the used rags and brought them back into your bathroom. Starsceam watched you the entire time.

You came back into the bedroom, shutting the door behind you. “So um… Do you have to go back soon?” You asked, slightly hoping his answer would be no.

“Probably… But I don’t exactly want to go back.” Starscream rested his arms on his legs, leaning forward in thought. You frowned and shifted your weight between your legs. “Do they need you back for something?” He shook his helm, running his optics over a few objects on your wall. “No, not exactly. My shift was nearly over when I left anyway.”

You ran your eyes over him, his body language seemed uncomfortable. If his words weren’t enough you could clearly tell that he dreaded going back right now. Before you could stop yourself, the words slipped. “Then stay.”

Starscream froze, and slowly turned towards you. “...What?”

Your mouth felt dry, you wanted to avert your eyes from his intense stare but you couldn’t seem to pry your eyes away from his. “Stay… Just for tonight.”

Logically, you shouldn’t have offered. Then again, if you want to go by those rules you should have stopped what you were doing a long time ago. Starscream was having a similar thought. He already has let you do this for him, he was already here. The looming threat over both of your heads was already there, one night wouldn’t lessen or greaten the affects.

“Alright… Just for tonight then.”

#tfp starscream #starscream #transformers #fanfiction #reader insert #one shot #preferably no minors #tw abuse #fluff #angst #starscream/reader #macadam

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themaladaptivewriter12 · 9 months

Text

Title: Cozy Gaming

Part 3 of my "16-Bit Heart" series! Part 1 and Part 2 here!

Summary:

Mirai gets a little bored with just playing Forever True, so he asks his Guild Master if he had any other game recommendations, which leads to Mirai's new gaming obsession.

cw: Mirai smokes in this chapter

Reblogs are appreciated, just use my custom tag, #TheMaladaptiveWriter12, if you do!

Cross posted from my Ao3: TheMaladaptiveWriter12

“Whoever is chewing like a goat, mute yourself,” Gloomurai gruffed, spacebar spamming in the background.

“I am not a goat,” Fafnir shouted.

“You’re kinda loud there, ngl,” GotSkill? said.

They were currently farming a dungeon for upgrade items, and Gloomurai seemed to be in a bad mood today. He wasn’t as talkative as he normally was, even if it wasn’t much in the first place. He didn’t even go crazy over the cat in the harbor like he normally does. But it turns out that he had lost a game tournament and apparently needed a new game controller because of it.

“So what do y'all eat while you game?” Fafnir asked.

“I typically eat candy.” Mirai, playing as Apollo said.

“I don’t eat at all,” Rocinante said, “fog eating isn’t a good habit after all.”

“Who cares?!” Khan shouted. “Chips are the best!”

“And get cheese dust on your keyboard? Hard pass,” Leslie scoffed.

“Just keep wipes at your desk,” WarMachine muttered.

“I don’t particularly eat anything, but I will drink a Wendigo while I play,” PixieStic said quietly.

“Ooh! What’s your favorite flavor,” Mirai asked giddily. “I’m hooked on Blue Raspberry.”

“Blue Bloods? That one’s okay, but I like Toxic Sludge, the lime one.”

“Oh no, if we’re talkin’ Wendigos, Star Lord is totally S-Tier! We’re talking about the right balance of sweet and sour, not too lemony, but the flavor is still noticeable, and don’t get me started on the hints of passion fruit. It’s not too overbearing yet that flavor is there if you know where to look,” Gloomurai rambled. “And once you pair it with the right candy, I prefer Pomegranate Drops, the tart against the lemon is a total win.”

Mirai chuckled, “There he goes again.”

“You normies wouldn’t understand the power of the Star Lord,” Gloomurai scoffed. “Once you taste its power, you’ll never kneel down to any other flavor again.”

The guild chat burst into laughter.

It was late and the guild was silent, the majority of the already logged off for the night. Mirai was still farming for an upgrade item so he could finish crafting the new amour he wanted, but the thing was, he wasn’t strong enough to get to it. Mirai was tempted to see if Lilia was too busy to help him, but then again, that’s what his own Guild Master was for. Truth be told, Mirai was kinda intimidated by Gloomurai, even with his small crush on the guy’s voice. Gloomurai seemed to still be upset, his mic still cutting in and out, and Mirai guessed that he forgot to mute himself, because he was currently raging at a totally different game.

Mirai wouldn’t ask for him to farm then, but he’d ask if he knew any other easier spots.

“Uh, Guild Master?” Mirai meekly called out. He hated the way his voice sounded. It sounded small and weak, and he was by no means any of those things.

There was a bunch of feedback and some frantic muttering, but not soon after, Gloomurai’s voice rang through his headset. “Y-Yeah? What’s up?”

“I, uh, do you know where I can find Elven Chains? I found some, but I’m too weak to farm it.”

“Did you try The Last Bastion?”

“Yeah, and The Great War.”

“K, hold on.”

A second later, Gloomurai’s avatar was teleporting to Mirai’s.

“I’ll farm with you. Just heal,” Gloomurai muttered.

“Mn.”

They ended farming for an additional hour, but thanks to Gloomurai, Mirai was able to farm for the Elven Chains.

“Thanks man,” Mirai muttered. “How do I look?”

Mirai’s avatar, Apollo, did a little flourish, his character giving a little “meow” as he made his hands into paws. Apollo was now dressed in golden chains. His character was topless, gold sparkly chains covering his torso like a loose crop top. The bottom half was just two slivers of hanging ivory cloth that just about covered his character, and he wore no shoes, just gold anklets that jingled when Apollo walked, but other than that, it was nothing but a chain and smooth creamy freckled skin. Mirai was so busy admiring his handiwork that he hadn’t realized that the Guild Master hadn’t answered him.

“Boss? Ya there? You muted?” Mirai asked.

“Y-Y-Yeah, I-I, um, I yeah. C-Cool, really cool,” Gloomurai stammered.

Mirai cackled, his voice echoing through the chat. He laughed for a good minute before speaking again, “You good, dude? Need a minute?”

“Sh-Shut up,” came Gloomurai’s embarrassed shout.

“Okay, okay. I’ll stop messin’.”

Mirai could practically hear him pouting through the mic.

“So,” Mirai started, “You got any other games you play?”

Gloomurai scoffed, “What don’t I play?”

“You got any cozy game recommendations?”

“Depends on what you’re looking for. If you want mindless simulations, I’d go for My Zootopia, if you want a story mode and some bit of a challenge, I’d go for Orchard Adventurer. But if you want a little more of an interactive game, I’d totally go for Harvest Valley, it’s all the talk right now among the ‘Cozy Game’ community. You move to your Grandmother’s old farm and start a new life in this small town.”

Gloomurai was rambling, like, he sounded like a motorboat at the rate he was talking. Mirai realized he got like this when he was really passionate about the topic. It was cute, but hard to understand at times.

“W-Wait, wait, I can’t keep up,” Mirai said, trying to stop Gloomurai’s rambling, “Uh, Harvest Valley? I’m always down for a good farming rpg. Can you romance townies too?”

“Yeah, but who cares about the townies, it’s the lore that’s more interesting. It’s like, I, no, you know what, I’m sending you a link. I hope you have no plans for tomorrow, because we’re about to have the longest Harvest Valley sesh ever.”

As the game downloaded, Mirai went out for a quick snack run, the both of them promising to reconvene in thirty minutes. Mirai dressed himself quickly, lighting a cigarette on the way. He knew he should’ve quit long ago, especially now that he started smoking for leisure again, but with the stress he had to endure since being dropped off here, he was bound to relapse. Although, some days, he wished for something a little stronger.

Mirai decided to go to one of the vending machines that were located outside. It was one thing to sneak inside the building for a snack, but to go in with a lit cigarette in his lips? That was expulsion waiting to happen.

“Gummy worms or gummy bears?” Mirai muttered indecisively, looking over his options, “Gummy worms or gummy bears?”

“Gummy worms are better.”

Mirai jumped, whipping his head around, seriously hoping it wasn’t one of the staff, or anyone who’d tattle on him, but his terror was short lived because it was just Idia and his tablet.

“Oh, hey Idia,” Mirai greeted, taking the cigarette out of his mouth. “And yeah, Ima go with the gummy worms.”

Idia seemed to be taken aback by Mirai, he would have never guessed that the Prefect would have a bad habit of smoking, but then again, he really didn’t know what he thought about Mirai.

As Mirai paid for his candy, Idia browsed the drinks, and once they were done, they promptly switched spots. Mirai chuckled quietly, retrieving his Blue Raspberry Wendigo.

“Shoot,” Mirai cursed, trying to find a big enough pocket to put his gummies in.

Mirai heard a snicker and immediately pouted as he looked up at Idia. Idia looked smug as he shoved all his stuff into the large pockets of his jacket.

“Curse you and your cool practical techwear,” Mirai pouted.

Idia didn’t respond, but he seemed to crumple in on himself.

“Welp,” Mirai said, placing his cigarette back between his lips, “see ya, Idia.”

Back at Ramshackle, Mirai took a quick bathroom break, cleaned off his desk, and got back into his loungewear, which was just shucking off his shirt and tossing it into some random corner. Putting back on his headset, Mirai could hear Gloomurai muttering to himself.

“I’m back Gloomy,” Mirai called.

“You done downloading?” Gloomurai droned.

“Yeah, just about.”

“Cool, I got started already. I’m just creating my character.”

“You can even create your own character?!” Mirai asked excitedly, “So cool!”

Mirai’s loading bar finally filled out and the game was ready to play.

“It’s done,” Mirai said, popping open his drink.

“Sending the invite now,” Gloomurai muttered.

“Invite?”

“We’re playing Co-op.”

“Ok, this is officially the best game ever!”

Gloomurai chuckled softly.

“I’m in,” Mirai chirped.

“Cool. Ima play through the prologue so you can create your character.”

Mirai opened up the game and was immediately floored with the style.

“Aww,” Mirai gushed. “It’s a 16-bit rpg!”

“It’s like one of the biggest 16-bit farming games out there. It has become quite the staple in the “Cozy Gaming” community. Many are trying to replicate it, but we all know they’re just biters.”

“That’s annoying,” Mirai replied.

“Yep.”

“Oh, don’t get me started on popular games that bit before that claim other games are biting off of them.”

“UGH,” Gloomurai groaned. “Those people are the worst.”

After the prologue, Mirai’s character woke up in a little farm house. It was cute, and so were the graphics. Mirai was currently cleaning his yard when he saw Gloomurai’s character run by. He was cute. He had shaggy black hair, gold eyes, and a skull tee. Mirai chased after his character, throwing emotes as he circled around him.

Gloomurai scoffed, “You look like a total chad.”

Mirai’s character had long blonde hair, green eyes, and a red varsity jacket.

“Hey,” Mirai shouted, “Gross. He’s supposed to look like a skater boy. Yours looks like one of those emo dudes.”

“Whaddja name him?” Gloomy asked.

“Jasper,” Mirai chirped.

“Now he sounds like a pushover.”

Mirai laughed loudly. “What’s yours-no wait, I got it! Jorris!”

“What in Twisted Wonderland is Jorris?!”

Mirai cackled loudly.

“And no, his name is Shadow.”

“Total e-boy name.”

“Can it.”

Mirai and Gloomurai ended up staying up too late, which Mirai regretted because of his early shift with Sam. But after two energy drinks and three donuts, Mirai got through his shift with just a little more energy. Sam seemed to notice his fatigue and let him off thirty minutes early without docking his pay. Mirai was so grateful as he dragged his feet home, he really had to buy the guy a card or something.

Mirai crashed as soon as he got home and before he knew it, it was six o’clock and his phone was blowing up on his bedside table. Mirai groggily reached for his phone and checked his notifications. It was his Keyboard chat.

Fafnir: farm sesh

Fafnir: FARM SESH

PixieStic: OK ALREADY! IM COMING!

WarMachine: i’m down

Roci: I’m coming, Darlings

Khan: Gross

Roci: TnT

Leslie: Leave Roci alone

PixieStic: You on Boss

Boss: Yeah

Mirai got up, brushed his teeth, and got a snack before hopping on the server. Spawning in, Mirai readied himself and fast traveled to Gloomurai where he and the Guild were Dark Recluses. Dark Recluses were a stronger version of the Recluse, which were humanoid spider monsters, and it looked like the Guild was in trouble. Roci’s Lancer Elf was low at health, Fafnir, a Dwarf Paladin Knight, was trying to protect Leslie’s Skeleton Thief, who was being cornered by three Dark Recluses. Leslie was warping in and out of the fray to keep from getting killed, War Machine, an Armored Wizard, was casting spells left and right, trying to cast buffs and debuffs to keep the team alive. GotSkill?’s Dark Mage couldn’t cast due to the AOE damage the Dark Recluses were doing, and with his elemental magic being the same elemental type the Spiders were, his damage was reduced. PixieStic’s Undead Archer was on the outskirts of the battlefield, trying to get good shots in without harming the team, and Metaboy’s Armored Knight was trying to protect him. And lastly, Gloomurai, the Reaper, was reviving when he needed to, getting some hits in, but he didn’t look too engaged. In the Guild Chat, everyone was yelling at each other, cursing and swearing, and blaming each other, it was a total mess.

Mirai first casted an group healing spell, putting the team back at full health. Next he casted a speed buff on Khan, Metaboy, and Fafnir, damage buffs on GotSkill, Leslie, and Roci, and lastly shields on GotSkill?, PixieStic, WarMachine, and Lesie. And like that, the team quickly got themselves together as if they never were falling apart to begin with. And three minutes later, they took down the Dark Recluses, taking their much needed drops.

“Apollo,” Roci cried, “My angel!”

“Hey,” Mirai rasped, voice still groggy from sleep.

“Thanks man,” WarMachine sighed.

“No problem,” Mirai said dismissively.

“Boss,” Khan cried, “why didn’t you help us.”

“I’m only here to cast revives. You farm your own upgrade materials,” Gloomurai muttered out.

“But we were totally outnumbered!”

Gloomurai didn’t even respond, his avatar shrugging his shoulders.

“Apollo,” Metaboy cheered. “Nice outfit!”

“Oh! Yeah, I forgot I got this. Thanks,” Mirai yawned.

“Aw, Honey, you sound tired,” Roci crooned sympathetically.

“Just woke up. I had work this mornin’ and I stayed up late last night.”

“Oh, yeah! I forgot you stayed later to farm your materials,” Fafnir gruffed.

“Well I can’t take all the credit,” Mirai rasped, “If it weren’t for Gloomy, I wouldn't even have gotten the Elven Chains last night.”

The chat went silent, and Mirai thought he was lagging before the chat burst out in collective disdain.

“C’mon man,” Khan shouted.

“No fair,” Leslie griped.

“Are you kidding me?!” Fafnir gruffed.

“W-What, what's wrong?” Mirai stammered.

“Boss wouldn’t even help us just now, he never does,” PixieStic shouted.

“What gives?!” WarMachine gruffed.

“Apollo is still a noob, and he’s just a healer,” Gloomurai muttered dryly, “He can’t farm his own materials by himself.”

“He’s def not a noob anymore,” Khan shouted, “and he def can hold his own! You did his loadout, you should know!”

“Yeah,” Leslie shouted. “When I first joined, you made me get my own stuff, saying that the world wasn’t gonna just hand it to me if I didn’t work for it!”

“I did not,” Gloomurai gruffed.

“Did too!”

Suddenly Roci gasped, “It’s because he’s a cat, isn’t it!”

The chat went silent yet again, before they all began heckling Gloomy over his favoritism.

Mirai and Metaboy just laughed as Gloomurai tried to defend himself.

Harvest Valley became their new obsession. Mirai would rush back to Ramshackle, set up, and wait for Gloomurai to invite him to their private server to play. Gloomurai was so invested, he even made a schedule. Monday through Thursday at seven to ten, they get on Harvest Valley, Fridays they raid, and after the guild logged off, they would switch games. On weekends, they tailored it to Mirai’s working schedule.

They were currently in Summer in the game and Mirai was debating on who he should romance.

“So, like, Harper is cool all, but she’s kinda boring,” Mirai muttered as they raided the caves. “But Sabrina’s kinda, I don’t know, nosey? A Pick me?”

“Uh huh,” Gloomurai muttered. “Shadow Monger on your left.”

“Got it! But then there’s the actual skater boy, Jack, and he’s a total sweetheart. Hu-”

“Wait, w-wait,” Gloomurai said, hurriedly, “Jack is a guy.”

“Details, details, potayto, potahto. But yeah, anyways, Hunter, he-”

“Y-You’re g-gay? W-Wait, no, I-I I didn’t, I, f-forget that! Y-you don’t, you don’t have to answer that!”

“Bi.”

“W-What?’ Gloomurai stuttered.

“I swing more towards men, but I’m Bi,” Mirai supplied nonchalantly.

“O-Oh.”

“Does that bother you?”

“No, no! It’s cool! I’m good, I’m fine with it!”

“Okay, back to the real issue at hand.” Mirai didn’t even wait for the guy to speak up before he went off again. “Hunter, that sporty guy, he’s kinda cute, but he's too full of himself, total meathead.”

“O-Oh yeah, he so annoying,” Gloomurai muttered

“There’s the emo dude, uh, Seth! Yeah, Seth! He’s kinda hot, totally my type. Like, I don’t care if he’s a junkie, he gives me total bad boy vibes. He’s all mature, cooped up in his room, playing video games, doing drugs. Total shut-in material, but that’s what makes him even cuter.”

“Who’d like a disgusting shut-in?” Gloomurai sneered.

“Uh, me obviously! So who are you gonna romance?

“Ugh, no one.”

“What? Like, that’s the whole point!”

“No it’s not! You can totally beat this game without romancing anyone!”

“Then what’s the point?!”

“Lore! Duh!”

“Yeah, but like, romancing some of these character’s gives you more lore. Like some of these guys are mad shady.”

Gloomurai chuckled, “You said mad.”

“Says the guy who uses the word sus,” Mirai scoffed.

“What’s wrong with sus?!”

Their next session was longer than the last. Mirai had taken the middle shift, so he was free the rest of the day. And slowly but surely they were getting to know each other. They both liked Wendigo energy drinks and candy. They both were gamers, and highschool students, and they both were guys. But Mirai had learned that Gloomurai’s favorite color was blue, which was his favorite color. Gloomurai learned that Mirai liked rock music, which he didn’t mind, but anything closest to Techno and or EDM was always superior. Mirai learned the Gloomurai was quite the technophile, he even built and modded his own PC. And the more he got to know these little tidbits, the more Mirai fell.

“Favorite pizza topping,” Mirai rambled as he proceeded to place weird objects in Gloomurai’s house while he was out fishing.

“Can’t go wrong with cheese,” Gloomurai muttered.

“True. Candy?”

“Pomegranate Drops.”

“Are they really that good?”

“Uh, yeah,” Gloomurai said as if it was common knowledge. “Sweet sugar dusted outside, sour, tart, inside, a good hard candy crunch? You’re talking S-Tier candy eating experience.”

“I guess I’ll give them a try.”

After that, there was silence. As much as Mirai hated silence, but this type of silence wasn’t so bad, it was nice even. The game’s cute ost really set the calm and cozy mood, and if Mirai listened hard enough, he could hear the feedback from Gloomy’s end. There was the tall tale sound of Gloomurai’s keyboard and mouse, but behind all that, Mirai could make out the fans of his PC, the light techno music playing in the background, but most of all, Mirai could hear the soft muttering as he thought aloud. Mirai realized Gloomy had a habit of either thinking aloud or reading aloud, and he found it so cute.

But other than that, Mirai likes these moments, just gaming in each other’s company. No one needed to say anything, they didn’t need to see each other, just listening to each other’s quiet breathing, gaming on the same server was enough.

“Apollo! What in Harvest Valley is in my house?!”

Mirai burst out in a fit of laughter.

It was finally here. After Mirai reached level fifty, Mirai was able to buy a Forever True phone charm. The game had it set up where you could buy their achievements in real life with the extra step of putting in their player ID. Mirai found it a cute and cool way to have players interact and support their game outside of it.

Mirai pulled the shiny golden charm out of the box and stared at it in awe. It was so pretty, so shiny, and it was his. Mirai happily looped the band through his phone and pulled it taunt. It fit so perfectly, and it matched his phone case. Mirai couldn’t stare long, but he could definitely show it off as he walked to the Housewarden meet. Mirai was glad he had a warning in advance this time, that way if Malleus had already left, he wouldn’t be late.

Malleus hadn’t left yet, but he and Lilia were just about to leave themselves, so they happily walked to the Headmage’s office together.

“Ooh! Your charm came in,” Lilia commented, looking over at the dangling charm.

“Oh yeah! It came in this morning, and I just opened it before I left,” Mirai smiled.

“Sweet!”

“Although I know nothing of your little charm,” Malleus muttered, “It is quite charming.”

“Thanks Malleus,” Mirai smiled.

The three of them made it to the meeting where the rest of the Housewardens and their Vices were trickling in. Mirai greeted Riddle and Trey, who were no doubt the first one’s there, Azul and Jade, who greeted him back with their cold, calculating smiles, and lastly, Vil and Rook. Rook was more than happy to greet Mirai with big smiles and flowery words, but Vil kept his greetings short and practiced. When Kalim and Jamil waltzed in, Kalim was more than happy to throw himself in Mirai’s arms, nuzzling his face against his as he greeted him.

“Mi-Mi,” Kalim cried, “I’ve missed you! You should come over more often.”

“Aw Kalim, I’m sorry. I’ll visit tomorrow,” Mirai cooed, rubbing Kalim’s back. He then turned to Jamil, “Is that okay with you, Jamil?”

Jamil seemed a little surprised that Mirai was asking for his permission and not just agreeing to Kalim’s whims like everyone else did.

“Y-Yeah, sure, that’s fine,” Jamil muttered, fiddling with his hair.

“Cool,” Mirai said, turning away from Jamil, putting attention back on the dejected Housewarden, “I’ll be over at noon. That way we can chat over lunch. How’s that?”

Kalim nodded happily, “Mn! It’s a date!”

“‘Sup, Prefect,” Ruggie called as he waltzed in with Leona in tow.

“Yo,” Mirai greeted back.

“Cutting it close,” Riddle commented, not looking up from his stack of papers.

“Shut it, Red,” Leona growled.

Leona tried to get to his seat, but Mirai was still petting Kalim’s little head as they spoke.

“Move, Herbivore,” Leona said as he tried to shove his way past Mirai to his seat.

Kalim backed out of Mirai’s arms, but Mirai didn’t move.

“Hmm?” Mirai hummed, feigning to think hard on his request, “Why should I?”

“Herbivore,” Leona warned, “Move.”

“I don’t hear a please,” Mirai sang.

Leona snatched Mirai from the front of his shirt, and the room erupted in chaos as Leona lifted him up until he was eye level, growling, “you gotta death wish?”

“Nah, but it wouldn’t kill you to be nicer,” Mirai smirked.

Leona just rolled his eyes, dropping the Prefect to his feet, and on his way to his seat, he flicked Mirai on the forehead. Plopping into his seat, Leona slouched down so far that his head was resting on the back of the chair.

Mirai sat down in between Lilia and Riddle, and took out his phone. They still had five minutes and Headmage Crowley wasn’t even in the room, so Mirai checked the Keyboard chat. The guys were chit chatting and Mirai added to the conversation, and as he did, Lilia flicked at the charm on Mirai’s phone like a little cat.

The doors opened once more and slowly walking in, dragging his feet was Idia, hoodie zipped up to his neck as he nervously chewed on the zipper.

“What are you, five?” Vil spat, “Take that out of your mouth!”

Idia startled with a high pitched shriek, the zipper falling from his blue lips.

“You’re three minutes late,” Riddle informed, glaring but not at Idia.

“The Headmage isn’t even here,” Idia’s tablet said.

“It doesn’t matter,” Riddle said, finally looking at Idia. “If the Headmage were here, you’d be late. One should always be on time, especially with your status as Housewarden, which you never take seriously.”

Idia didn’t say anything as he slunk to his seat in between Rook and Malleus, pulling his feet into the chair so that he was hidden from view.

Mirai felt bad. With the many overbots that Mirai had to diffuse, he knew the lot of them had their own mix of issues, issues that he had to play therapist for, so not a single one of them had the right to criticize Idia’s social anxiety. And that was another thing, Mirai hated the fact that this world, and his last, viewed mental illness as something that could just be corrected with a snap of a finger, especially introverted based illnesses. Mirai wondered if he should defend Idia next time, or keep his mouth shut, since he knew sometimes that made things worse.

“Mi-Mi?” Kalim called.

“Y-Yeah?” Mirai jumped from his thoughts, sitting up from his slouched position in his seat.

“What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“That! The charm on your phone.”

“Oh,” Mirai shouted in realization, “That! Yeah, it just came in today. It’s from a game I play.”

“That’s cool,” Kalim chirped. “What’s it mean?”

“It’s an emblem that represents getting your avatar to level fifty. Here.”

Mirai stood up from his seat and walked across the room so that Kalim could see it better.

“Oh! So cool! It's so shiny,” Kalim said, handing it back. “Congratulations by the way.”

“Thanks,” Mirai chuckled, sitting back down. “But it’s nothing really. This is one of the smallest achievements you could get.”

“But you achieved it, so that makes it special,” Lilia added with a smile, tilting his head to the side.

Kalim nodded.

“I guess,” Mirai said thoughtfully. “But you should see the other ones. The guys in my guild are levels way higher than mine, so I bet they have all the cool stuff.”

“Show me some time?” Kalim asked.

“Sure. I can show you tomorrow.”

“Mn! And we can make charms of our own, to show our friendship! Don’t worry, I have a bunch of gold shiny things we can use.”

Mirai chuckled. “How about we make it ourselves? I can teach you how to braid using ribbon, string, and some beads.”

“Mn,” Kalim nodded excitedly.

“Saps,” Leona gruffed, eyes closed.

“Aww, don’t worry Leona, I can make you one too,” Mirai teased.

“Over my dead body.”

Mirai sneakily reached his leg forward and quickly swiped at Leona’s outstretched leg, causing the Beastman to fall off the chair with a gasp, his arms flailing as he tried to catch himself, eyes wide. Leona just barely caught himself before he fit the floor, and once he righted himself, he glared at the Ramshackle Prefect.

Mirai cackled, Ruggie, Trey, Vil, Azul, Jade, Lilia and Malleus following suit.

“Herbivore,” Leona growled menacingly, standing from his seat and just before he could reach Mirai, the doors flew open, the Headmage strolling in like he wasn’t twenty minutes late for his own meeting.

“Apologies my beloved students, but Professor Trein had important matters to discuss,” Headmage Crowely apologized without a hint of remorse.

The room collectively held back a groan and an eye-roll, while Kalim just smiled and accepted his apology.

“But how benevolent of me to give you the wonderful opportunity to better your relationships with each other,” the Headmage all but gushed.

Riddle cleared this through, gaining the attention of the whole room, “With all due respect sir, I find it’d be in all of our best interest to start this meeting. We are busy people, and I’d like to be back before Trey and I break curfew.”

The rest of the room nodded respectfully.

“Oh yes, forgive me, Mr. Rosehearts,” Headmage Crowley said, sitting down in his seat. “Let us begin.”

The moment the meeting dismissed Crowley was out of earshot, Mirai booked it down the hall cackling as Leona chased after him, hot on his heels, and by the time the rest of the group made it to the courtyard, Leona had the Ramshackle Prefect in a headlock.

“Tap out, Herbivore,” Leona growled a laugh, “Tap out!”

“Never,” Mirai laughed.

“Suit yourself.”

“That looks like fun,” Kalim shouted, and before Jamil could stop him, he was sprinting over to Leona, tackling him into the grass below.

“Get ‘em, Kalim,” Mirai shouted, jumping onto Leona as well.

Ruggie guffawed, holding his stomach as Leona struggled against the two of them.

“Ignore them,” Riddle huffed, sticking his nose up as he walked by.

The group was just getting to Main Street when Azul spoke up. “I didn’t know you were a gamer, Prefect.”

“Huh?” Mirai jumped, taking his eyes off his Keyboard Server, “Oh, yeah, that. Yeah, I used to game a lot back in high school, but once I graduated, I had to work more than anything to pay rent.”

“But you are in high school,” Vil said with a raised eyebrow.

“Technically I’ve already graduated back home, but since that blasted carriage kidnapped me, I now have three more years added to my suffering.”

Ruggie snickered.

“Sucks to be you,” Leona gruffed.

“What were your games like back at home,” Lilia asked.

“Uhh,” Mirai said, fiddling with the phone charm, “I mean, it’s basically the same as it is here. FPSs, MMORPGs, Cozy Games, Platform Games, we had them all. I typically like RPGs, MMORPGs, FPSs, and Cozy games, but I tend to lean toward farming RPGs.”

“Whatever you just said,” Leona gruffed.

Mirai stuck his tongue out at Leona, and Leona swatted at him from the back of the group.

“You should check out the board game club,” Azul suggested. “I know it’s not electronic, but it’s quite fun.”

“No, no, it’s cool,” Mirai said reassuringly. “I like board games, card games especially. We have one at home that is like the pinnacle of all card games, I could teach you if you’d like?”

“Just name the date, and it’s done.”

“Ok, cool.”

As they passed the vending machine, Mirai eyed the drinks, and before they got too far, Mirai cut through the group, pulled out two marks and put them in the machine. Once the machine dropped his drink, Mirai promptly cracked the Wendigo open and took a swig.

“You drink that trash?” Leona asked, disgusted.

Mirai snapped his head up and the group hadn’t moved.

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” Mirai said, highly confused.

There was a clatter and the group turned around just in time to see Idia pull a Wendigo from the machine. Idia seemed to sense the staring gazes and froze up.

“See,” Mirai said laughing, “Idia’s a man of culture. He knows what’s up.”

Riddle rolled his eyes.

“I salute you, O’ great one,” Mirai said, raising his can in mock cheer.

Idia breathed a laugh, raising his can.

“I can’t believe you put that stuff in your body,” Vil sighed disappointingly.

“Oh, honey, Vil,” Mirai said, smirking, “This isn’t even the worst thing I’ve consumed or put in my body.”

Vil scoffed, rolling his eyes and he walked ahead.

Mirai laughed loudly.

“Okay, now I’m curious,” Ruggie says, speeding up to walk in time with Mirai. “What was the worst?”

“I do not want to know,” Riddle fumed.

“Nor do I,” Vil said.

Mirai chuckled as he leaned towards Ruggie and whispered into his ear. Ruggie snickered.

“Really?!” Ruggie said, eyes wide.

“Mn.”

“Dang, I would’ve-wait, never mind, I can see it now.”

Mirai cackled.

“What’d he say,” Azul asked.

Ruggie looked at Mirai, and Mirai just waved him off. Ruggie pulled Azul to the back of the group where he muttered what Mirai had said.

“Well, color me surprised,” Azul said blankly.

“Alright,” Loana sighed, “just say it.”

“Now, I too, am curious,” Malleus said, intrigued.

“I was an avid smoker, sue me,” Mirai said, shrugging.

There was a beat of silence.

“Mirai,” Vil scolded loudly. “Tell me you’re lying!”

Mirai snorted a laugh, “Then I’d be lying.”

“Mirai,” Riddle yelled, face going red in anger. “Why would you do such a thing?!”

“Not going into the details of that,” Mirai said as he veered off to the path of Ramshackle. “Later party people.”

Mirai had started thinking about his current predicament, and that was that he was crushing on his upperclassman, Idia Shroud, who was quite literally shrouded in mystery and his sexy sounding Guild Master, who he knew little to nothing about. Sure, Mirai knew in both areas that he had absolute zero chance. One, he had no idea where his Guild Master lived, or if he really was who he said he was, so really, he had fallen in love with the person he made up in his head. But Idia was so close, yet so far. He went to the same school as him, and they saw each other quite a few times, but from what Mirai learned, Idia was a total recluse. Idia never left his room for anything, you had to legit drag him out kicking and screaming. And on top of that, he didn't have the best rep here at NRC, it was all either negative or nothing at all.

Mirai had just gotten done hanging with Kalim and decided to pay Crewel a visit. He liked hanging with Crewel, who was becoming a mentor and or father figure of sorts to him. Mirai would go to the Alchemy Professor with his problems, and Crewel would give him the advice he needed.

“It’s hopeless,” Mirai sighed, as he played with Crewel’s dog.

“What is?” Professor Crewel asked from his desk.

“My love life.”

Professor Crewel scoffed, “What are you on about?”

Mirai sighed as he crossed the room to sit beside Crewel. “Like there’s this guy I like, but it’s like we live in two totally different worlds.”

“How so?”

“I’ve only seen him in passing, and he’s so pretty, but he doesn't talk to me at all, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know I exist. But then again, I think I’ve fallen for my Guild Master.”

“Okay, I have no idea what a Guild Master is, but I might know the pup you speak of. Do you have his name?”

“Idia.”

Crewel just sighed.

Mirai chuckled a bit, leaning across Crewel’s desk, which earned him a glare that he ignored.

“Of all of the bad dogs in this school, you choose Shroud?” Professor Crewel asked, an eyebrow raised.

“But he’s so cool. His hair quite literally burns, he’s got the prettiest blue lips, the cutest sharp teeth, and the deepest eyebags I’ve ever seen. He’s got like three of the best features any hot guy should have,” Mirai rambled dreamily.

Crewel just started at Mirai like he had grown another head.

“But like, I’ve only kinda spoken with him, well, no not really, usually I talk at him, and if he does answer, he uses his tablet. Is he mute or just shy?”

“Shroud is a terrible introvert, as shut-in most times. He’s lazy, he never attends class, and usually will make his younger brother go to class in his stead.”

“He has a little brother?” Mirai asked.

“Ortho Shroud. He’s not hard to miss because he’s a child and an artificial one at that.”

“Artificial? Like a robot?”

“Exactly.”

“That’s cool,” Mirai said absentmindedly.

Mirai thought of his life growing up, secluded, excluded, and alone. If only he was smart enough, he could’ve built a brother to play with.

“I’ve always wanted a brother,” Mirai muttered quietly, “I wouldn’t care if he wasn’t human, as long as I had someone to talk to, to play with, I’d be okay.”

Crewel sighed and ran a gloved hand through Mirai’s hair. “I haven’t a clue on how to help you this time, but to tell you keep trying. Now quit moping and give Spot his walk.”

“You mean Poppyseed Muffin,” Mirai smirked as the puppy perked up at the name.

“That is not his name!”

“C’mon, baby! C’mon, Poppyseed Muffin,” Mirai cooed in a baby voice. “Say bye to Daddy.”

The puppy instantly jumped up from his spot at Crewel’s feet and yapped excitedly, tail wagging as Mirai leashed him. Crewel glared at Mirai as he walked out with the dog.

“What am I gonna do with that child,” Crewel sighed fondly.

The sun had long set, the now moon high in the cloudy starry sky. It was a nice enough night to leave the window open, the breeze a comforting as it brushed against Mirai’s skin as he gamed at his desk. And speaking of gaming, Mirai was currently playing Forever True.

Mirai was messing around with Roci, Leslie, and Khan, the four of them making their characters do weird emotes that they found funny.

“Apollo,” Gloomurai called.

“Yeah?” Mirai laughed as his character started acting like a chicken.

“Let’s go play Harvest Valley,” Gloomurai muttered.

“Okay!”

“Woah, woah, woah! Since when have you two been so buddy buddy?!” Khan asked incredulously.

“Whaddaya mean?” Mirai asked.

“Hey, now that you mention it,” PixieStic cut in, “The Boss has been playing favorites, hasn’t he?”

“I am not,” Gloomy shouted.

“Are too,” GotSkill? yelled. “You’ve been helping Apollo with any chance you get!”

“You wouldn’t even help us raid last week,” WarMachine gruffed, “But you helped Apollo.”

“You did,” Leslie agreed.

“He’s only level seventy six, miles lower than the rest of us, mind you. He can’t fight the mobs we normally take on,” Gloomy defended.

“Admit it,” Fafnir goaded, “you’re playing favorites! You like Apollo don’t you?!”

Gloomurai made a garbled noise from his end, and the chat erupted in laughter.

“And it’s all because he’s a cat,” Leslie shouted.

The game chat erupted in laughter.

Mirai’s face grew hot, more than relieved that the guys couldn’t see him at all. That had caught him majorly off guard. He had really thought they suspected the ladder, not that Mirai would have minded, but he really was trying to get over his crush on the guy.

“Cozy games bore me,” Khan muttered absentmindedly.

“Yeah, those put me to sleep, especially the farming ones,” Leslie agreed.

“I could care less for the romance aspect,” Warmachine commented.

“Since you scrubs don’t appreciate the absolute masterpiece that is Harvest Valley, Apollo is the only one allowed to play with me,” Gloomurai grumbled.

“Alright, alright,” Mirai laughed. “If yall don’t need me, I’ll be logging off.”

“Bye bye, Darling!” Roci called.

“See ya, dude,” Khan called.

“Bye Rocinante, bye Khan, bye guys,” Mirai called.

Mirai logged off and booted up Harvest Valley, and not a second later, Gloomy was inviting him to a private party. Mirai couldn’t even get a word in before Gloomurai’s voice filled his headset.

“Whadda they know about Harvest Valley? Am I the only one who’s based here? Cozy gaming is one of the best types of games out there. Can you even call yourself a gamer if you can’t even pick up a cozy game?”

Mirai laughed loudly. “Just ignore them. They clearly don’t know what they are missing.”

Gloomurai scoffed, “Obviously.”

Once the save was up, they got back into the swing of things. Mirai was currently trying to build his barn upgrade, while Gloomy was trying to fill the research center. They tended to split the work with that, the research center, Mirai did all the farm based and foraging items, while Gloomurai did all the fishing and mine based items.

“So you know how I was telling you that this game gets updated?” Gloomurai asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” Mirai muttered, his focus more on the slimes that were trying to kill him.

“So like this used to be way harder to complete, like some of the items you couldn’t get until year three. But now that we have a traveling merchant that comes by, she'll sometimes sell the items we need.”

“Oh, so we can just buy them, instead of struggling.”

“Yep.”

“That’s cool.”

12:45

“I’m naming the dark chicken after you,” Mirai laughed.

“Why?!” Gloomurai asked.

“Cus! It’s all dark and gloomy, like you are!”

“You makin’ fun of me?!”

“Nope!”

1:33

“Hey, Apollo,” Gloomurai called. “What fishing level are you at?”

“Zero,” Mirai laughed.

“Why is it at fricking zero?!”

“Cus,” Mirai groaned, “I hate fishing. It’s too hard, and boring.”

“How is it hard?!” Gloomurai shouted. “You’re pressing one frickin’ button!”

Mirai laughed.

2:07

“Ugh,” Gloomurai groaned. “I gotta go back up, I'm about to die.”

“Ooh! Ooh! Here! I bought some food! Here,” Mirai said, giving Gloomy’s character some food.

“Thanks man.”

“No problem! Now help me take out these skeletons before I die.”

Gloomurai snorted a laugh.

3:54

“Gloomy,” Mirai whined.

“No,” Gloomurai muttered

“Please.”

“No.”

“But-”

“Should’ve thought about that before you changed my wallpaper.”

“I’m sorry,” Mirai laughed. “I won’t do it again.”

There was silence.

“Tonight,” Mirai snickered.

“Bastard,” Gloomurai gruffed, but relented, giving Mirai the fish he had stolen from his chest.

“Yay,” Mirai cheered.

Mirai and Gloomurai played for a good while. The two of them got through ten levels of the caves, they got through to the next season, and they also finished two research center bundles. Mirai liked playing with Gloomy, his company was nice, and their banter, funnier. Gloomy liked to poke fun, always bragging when Mirai couldn’t do something himself and other times, Gloomurai was saying some off the wall rude remarks, but it was never truly toward Mirai.

And this had Mirai thinking long after they had got off for the night. Did Gloomy really like Mirai like his Guildmates implied? At first Mirai really thought it was because his character was a cat, but then again, it seemed more than that. Gloomy tended to make Mirai his top pick for anything, even with his hatred for lack of experience. He needed a partner for a dungeon run? He picked Mirai. Gloomy needed help on a side quest? He picked Mirai. Gloomy needed to farm for upgrade materials? He picked Mirai. He also didn't give Mirai lip when he messed up, died, or asked for help like he did with the others.And Mirai was starting to see it while they played Harvest Valley together. Gloomy liked leaving little items in his storage chest, they were “extras” or so he was told. Gloomy even danced with his character at the spring gala when Mirai couldn’t get Seth to dance with his character. Mirai was severely confused and his head was starting to hurt, but then again, maybe that was from the lack of sleep, so Mirai decided to just lie down.

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bees--in-my--bones · 2 years

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posted about this a couple times but I'm starting ikesen and ikerev up again after a few years and playing ikepri and ikevamp for the 1st time and I feel like doing route reviews. I already kinda did a shingen one but from here on out I'll tag them "bee's ikereview" so you can block if you want. anyway here's jonah:

Jonah - Bee's Ikereview

so I've read jonah before and he was definitely my top 2 ikerev routes, between him and sirius. I forgot how arrogant he was but it's not bad, especially when you can tell it comes from a good place. yes he's a cocky little bitch, but he's MC's cocky little bitch. by the end of the route it's definitely endearing. and I love all the little nods to how much they like being around each other, like when they both show up way, way too early for each date. you can see jonah relax slowly throughout the route, dropping the high and mighty act to show that he listens too and values what MC has to say. and when he goes against the entire red army and his king for her? from him, that's the ultimate act of love. his position was all that he knew and all that mattered to him, and he was willing to throw that away to keep MC safe. and I like to think that MC continues to help him and luka settle their differences after the route ends.

#bee's ikereview #jonah clemence #ikerev #ikemen revolution #jonah ikerev #johan ikemen revolution

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josiebelladonna · 9 months

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Do I feel vibrant (in general)?

Nope. How are you supposed to even feel vibrant like this goes right over my head. I logged off from facebook because I realized that no one gives a fucking fuck about me over there and also to get away from my family. Testament shared one of my drawings and no one on my friends list gave a shit. My own family didn’t even give a shit. I disappear into the background more than anything. It doesn’t matter. Everyone forgets my name eventually.

You know, recently, a fear of mine came true: I got asked by people who had followed me for years on facebook over on instagram if I’m still drawing at all. Everyone forgets me.

Do I feel sexually desirable?

Sexual desirability just doesn’t cross my mind. I indulged in a few of my kinks on tumblr last night before the power went out and I felt so awkward after the fact. I apologized for it. In fact, it’s a good thing that the power went out because I completely forgot about what I posted immediately thereafter. I’m a freak and an embarrassment.

Are my sexual needs being met? (by me, by someone else)

When I indulged last night, going through those tags (voice kink, tummy kink, leather, latex, plus a lingerie blog), I saw things that… sort of catered to me and I could kinda see it and feel it, but nothing that totally hit the nail on the head with me, though. Now you know why I disowned my sexuality: I’m way too picky and I don’t know what to do about it so I just assume “why bother? No one is going to totally get it right and for that alone, I feel bad because it’s their expression and it’s not in my place to judge them.”

Do I care about my sexual life?

The fact I keep coming back to this shows that I care about it enough. But I can’t say that I care about it so much that I’m losing sleep over the fact that no one is sleeping with me.

What is my comfort level with talking about sex and sexuality and communicating my needs?

I apologized for indulging in kink and then I forgot about the indulgence almost immediately. Any questions.

How am I feeling about my body?

Can’t say I love it or hate it. Working out definitely does something for me given my weight is dropping like a stone, but if we’re talking “desirability”, I literally don’t think about that. I think more about my physical health than anything. I don’t have anyone to impress. If I do anything for any reason, sexuality is the last thing on my mind. Believe me, I tried before, but it didn’t go anywhere and just made me feel uncomfortable in the end.

What is my relationship like with my orgasms?

Nonexistent. I can’t remember the last time I masturbated because, again, there’s no point. What is the point of developing an appetite when there is no need for it. There’s no point to developing a sexual appetite, plus I don’t care. I’m too much of a pussy and there are other things to worry about, too. They’re here and gone, too, like what the hell is this whole thing that all women should have these violent screamers after five seconds. Am I really not doing it right? Why should I try and make myself scream when it won’t happen. Why even bother.

What is my connection like with others?

Still complete and total shit. If my logging out of facebook for the foreseeable future is anything to go by, then it should tell you that my connection with people is complete shit. It isn’t enough to just “be myself”: I legit have to fight to gain the interest of other people.

Another reason why I logged out of facebook was some of the comments I got on that Testament cartoon. “This isn’t good”. “Doesn’t even look like the guys”. “Sucks”. My personal favorite: “why does it look like this”. It may have looked like I handled it well, but I was trying really hard, though, thinking of what to say for starters. Between that and no one whom I knew even giving a shit, it should make sense that I said to let them all eat cake. It’s one thing when it’s fanfic: at its core it’s supposed to be for fun, not your career (it’s why I was tripping balls when I saw someone call it an industry: I don’t see it as that, and a surprising number of older fans are on my side with that, too. It’s totally illegal, too, given fair use laws and what have you). But actual art shared by a legendary metal band… that’s huge.

When I think of sex, what comes to mind?

Nothing good or happy. What on earth am I supposed to say to this? I think of all the consequences of being sexually active and that’s all I think about, too. Oh, yeah, herpes and HIV and unwanted pregnancy, yeah, that’s really sexy.

Do I feel tapped into God (Source, Universe)?

When the power went out last night, I forgot about my indulgence immediately. Tell me, was that supposed to be a lesson or something? And if so, what was it even supposed to teach me besides letting me remember, “oh, yeah, I indulged last night. Whatever. I still have horrible feelings about this. I still feel ashamed, like I didn’t apologize for no reason.”

*bonus question: What fun am I having in my sexual life?

None. Ooh yeah, exposing yourself to horrific diseases like herpes and gonorrhea and warts, and putting your body and trust in another person when they can readily betray you at any given time for the dumbest and pettiest reasons, yeah, that’s totally fun *gunshot*

I’m doing kinktober again in a couple of weeks but I am terrified. I happened to go through that tag last night as well and… I don’t measure up. My wordy ass gets very minimal attention, meanwhile these often boring 100-1000 word drabbles are getting thousands of notes and pushed up in the tags. No one’s going to care or see it, just like everything else I share.

#weekly sex journaling #avert your eyes #journaling #sexuality #text

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tobiokuns · 3 years

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— morning after with haikyuu boys

summary: when you wake up after an amazing night, you’re sad to see that he’s not there anymore. [start / next] tags: suggestive content + aged up characters, hurt/comfort + angst to fluff, insecurities featuring: bokuto koutarou, miya atsumu, sakusa kiyoomi, hinata shoyo image credit: @seerlight on twitter

—bokuto koutarou

when you wake up and bokuto is no longer in the bed beside you, you think, ah, i should’ve expected this. he’s always been popular, going off to do big things, and there was no way that he would settle for you.

you think that the way his eyes sparkled as he rocked into you last night, chanting you’re amazing, y/n, must have been just in the heat of the moment, because there’s just no way bokuto, larger than life, would want someone as quiet as you. then your phone pings, and you see a text from him.

bokuto [10:12am] hey hey, i had a great time last night ヽ(o＾▽＾o)ノ bokuto [10:12am] have a good day y/n!!!

your heart lightens a little, but you notice that he doesn’t say that he wants to see you again, so you turn off your phone and leave him on read. he was probably just being nice anyway.

a day passes, and you don’t receive any more messages from him, so you think you’re right. but then the door bell rings, and you open it to see bokuto standing there, his hair deflated, his eyes downward, pouting at you.

“koutarou?” you urge him inside, tamping down your own feelings, “what’s wrong, can i—”

“did you not have a good time?” he bursts, holding you by the shoulders, “cuz i had a really good time, but you didn’t answer my messages, so if you didn’t, please tell me what i could do better!”

you look at him, bewildered, but also a little embarrassed. you could’ve at least replied to his text, you think now, but you were so sure that he hadn’t wanted you back.

“s-sorry,” you blush, “i-i just thought you were being nice. you left so i thought you didn’t want to see me again—”

“that’s not true!!” he exclaims immediately, wrapping a strong arm around you, “i was just excited, i didn’t want to scare you so i left, to give you some space or something. was that wrong? i won’t do it again if you don’t want me to!”

he’s talking so much, his voice booming. you start to melt into him, your face in his chest, just like last night. he stops when he notices your cheek rubbing against him, and lowers his voice just a little.

“i should’ve just stayed, huh?” he asks sheepishly, holding your shoulder tightly against him. you nod, laughing lightly. yeah, you agree, but just don’t leave next time.

—miya atsumu

atsumu shows up at your door exactly a week after he’d left you alone in bed, a dozen roses in his arms. you stare at him for a few moments, taking in the sight of his pleading eyes, and shut the door on him.

you had been completely ready to roll over and tell him all your feelings that morning: how you’ve been watching him since high school, how amazing you thought he was, despite all the bad things people say about his personality and attitude. you didn’t care about any of that, and you wanted to tell him how much you admired him, but he hadn’t been there.

you laid in bed for the next few hours, wasting away your sunday, and when you get up to wash your face, you decide that if he’s not going to at least call to say where he’d gone, then maybe he was as bad as people say.

“y/n...” his voice cuts through your thoughts, but it sounds muffled, as if he had his head against the wood of the door. “y/n, can ya hear me?” when you don’t answer, he continues: “i’m sorry fer leavin’ ya... ‘samu said i was stupid, and y’know he’s never right, but since ya haven’t talked to me... i think he might have been this time...”

there’s a pause, and you wait, still refusing to open the door. it’s been a whole week, you reason.

“how do i put this...” he mutters, lightly tapping his head against the door, “i guess i was jus’ feelin’ awkward ‘bout it... i never done that before so—”

you rip open the door, cheeks red, “never? ‘tsumu, you’re a virgin?”

you think about all the girls that have flocked to him over the years and the way that he easily interacted with them. you thought you never had a chance, not against the girls with the prettier faces, the curvier bodies, the glossier hair. but when he had kissed you last night, sloppy and desperate, you felt all those feelings melt away.

“...ya don’t hafta say it like that...” he pouts, and when you start to giggle, he scowls even harder. “i was just... waitin’ for the right time, y’know?”

when you don’t say anything, staring at him dumbfounded, he manages to stutter, “s-so? w-will you take the flowers?”

your eyes soften, covering his fingers with yours, “yes,” you agree, “but only if you agree never to leave me again.”

— sakusa kiyoomi

sakusa hadn’t meant to stay the night—he knew he had an early morning practice that he needed to be properly rested for, but after the way you had clung onto him, and realizing how good that felt, he decided he couldn’t just leave you. and when he wakes up, glancing over at your peaceful face, he also decides to just pull the covers up to your chin and text you later.

but when you wake up alone and a little warm, with no new messages from him on your phone, your heart sinks. you think of the way he let you pull down his mask, the way he pressed forward to kiss you, and wonder if it all meant nothing. you leave him a message anyway, pressing send before you second guess yourself.

y/n [9:52am] kiyoomi, if you didn’t want to see me again, you could’ve just let me know. i don’t blame you or anything.

you throw your phone on the bed and proceed with your day as if nothing had happened. life goes on, you tell yourself. but when the doorbell rings that evening, the last person you expect to see is sakusa, who looks a little worn out, still dressed in his training attire.

“kiyoomi? what are you—”

he cuts you off, his voice so deep and serious that you shrink a little: “i had practice. i left my keys here, so i was going to come back anyway.”

“so you just needed your keys?” you repeat, a little numb, and turn away to grab them from the bowl in the doorway. you hand it it to him with a tremble, mumbling, “...here you go.”

he takes them from your hand, but intertwines his fingers with yours anyway. “no,” he says slowly, “not just my keys. i forgot to let you know where i was. i’m sorry.”

“i-it’s not like you have to tell me where you are all the time...” you’re blushing, your heart thumping in your chest.

he grips your fingers tighter, “yes, i do,” he pulls you closer gently, “we’re together now, right?”

— hinata shoyo

when you wake up, the spot next to you is still warm, but there’s nobody there. you blink, thinking about how gentle hinata had been with you last night, the look in his eyes as he pressed into you, and wonder if he’d changed his mind.

“shoyo?” you call, but there’s no answer, which only confirms your worst fears.

hinata had always been too nice and a little immature. you can’t imagine that if he wanted to leave after a night like that he would be able to effectively communicate it to you without messing up. well, you think as you turn over, staring at the ceiling, maybe this is better than rejection.

but then you hear the front door open, and someone’s bounding up to your bedroom door. hinata pokes his head in.

“y/n, you awake? i got food, i didn’t know what you wanted so i kinda got a lot but if you can’t finish—” he stops when he realizes that you’re curled up beneath the covers, your glassy eyes blinking back at him.

hinata scrambles over, dropping the bags on the floor, and burrowing into your side, “what’s wrong? are you sore? was it me—”

you start to wail midway, cutting him off, “i-i thought you left!” you hiccup, “you weren’t there when i woke up so i thought you regretted it and—”

“no, no, i would never—” he protests, and his gaze softens when he sees your patchy face, “y/n, please don’t cry! i-i won’t leave you ever! come on, let’s go eat, okay?”

you wipe your tears hastily, lip still quivering. but you believe him, his eyes as bright as they were the day you met him, and you say okay.

#hana.fic #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #bokuto x reader #atsumu x reader #sakusa x reader #hinata x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#ch.multiple

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absolutebl · 2 years

Text

I got tagged y @liyazaki (thanks sweetheart!)

Reveal Your Watch & Rewatch Drama List

Currently Watching BL

La Cuisine (GaGa Sat) - LOVE IT

My Ride (GaGa) - LOVE IT EVEN MORE

Cutie Pie (YouTube Sat) - wasn’t into it, decided it was Thailand goes super-yaoi and now totally am all over it. Plus, thank you for the chemistry, I almost forgot was that was like.

Dear Doctor, I'm Coming for Soul (iQIYI Weds) - I like it more than I thought, but I’m a big cool premise person

Cupid's Last Wish (YouTube Sun) - also like it more than I thought I would, since one of the premise I do NOT like is body swap

Enchante (YouTube Fri) - Live blogging ep-by-ep here. I’m all over the place and now mostly disappointed.

Love Stage!! (AISplay or grey Sat) Ep 8 - it’s very good, I want to see Thailand adapt more Japanese stuff now (can I get a redo on Silhouette of Your Voice too? While we are at it, could Taiwan do Same Difference and Korea do Given? Please & thank you.

The Tuxedo (GaGa Sat) - might be dropping this one.

Cherry Blossoms After Winter (Korea Viki Fri) Ep 6 - FUCKING LOVE IT. Wasn’t wowed at first but it is SO classic yaoi and that’s so different from what Korea usual does and I happen to like the stepbrothers trope a whole lot (yes I know, not actually stepbrothers) but still! Yay!

Blue of Winter AKA Judo Boys (Korea Weds YouTube) - Korea does a pulp, it’s not good but also, can’t stop watching

Starting Soon BL

KinnPorsche (iQIYI Sat) - Eh, I’m kinda over it because of all the pre-production drama. Also I really don’t trust Thailand to go dark. If this were coming from Taiwan or Korea or even Japan I’d be excited. But now I’m just a little scared and going in exhausted. That said, I’ll probubly live blog it.

My Secret Love (??? Mon) - another Thai Uni pulp so it better be good or I just got too many going right now and I’ll drop it and maybe binge it during the late summer slump.

Miracle of the Teddy Bear (??? Sun) - i had a bit of a hunt and didn’t find it but also I’m not fussed this is NOT a premise that interests me.

Blueming (Korea IQIYI Weds or Thurs) - Korea bringing us another uni set BL? That I AM into though. We haven’t gotten many of these and they really hit it out of the parks with Semantic Error. I’m certainly watching this.

PlusMinus (Taiwan April 15) - FINALLY a new BL from Taiwan that I am really excited to see. Childhood friends and coworkers who suddenly become more.

Mr Unlucky Can Only Kiss! AKA Fukou-kun wa Kiss Suru Shikanai! (April 21) Plot: Kota is perennially unlucky. Naoya (Yusuke Sato of Jpop LOL) is always lucky. They meet by chance at their university's freshman orientation. Kota's misfortune is alleviated when he's with Naoya and due to a misunderstanding, they end up dating. This seems like the college version of My Love Mix Up and I AM HERE FOR IT.

There are more that I am excited about but I only picked ones that have announced drop dates. But GAP, Oh! My Sunshine Night, and Between Us are up there.

Rewatching

Semantic Error

Light On Me

Plus the most recent episodes of Cherry Blossoms and Cutie Pie.

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blueparadis · 2 years

Text

'Cause I want you to like me.

+themes: fluff, humour.

+pairing : Shinichiro Sano & Wakasa Imaushi x f-reader

+cw : none

+type : oneshot

+wc :0.9kish

+au ' notes : boss! Shinichiro and Wakasa being Wakasa. This a part of au-dvent collab hosted by @kenzumekodma | navigation links.

+exclusive tags : @httptamaki for Shin & @ambrodias for Waka ;)

Wakasa laid out his palm infront you & you placed a lollipop in his plam. He gleamed in amusement exclaiming,"ahhhaa she's useful shin!", turning his head towards Shinichiro. The urge to click tongue at sheer irritation got sedimented as noticed a pair of dark orbs was constantly staring at you.

Shinichiro was seated in his chair while Wakasa was being an absolute tease to his concentration was sitting upon the table. Your moist palm felt cold as you rested them on your thighs; even though you were vividly clothed. "Okay! We'll get to work from tomorrow." Shin added."Thank you, Sir", was your reply.

It's been two months since you joined in as P.A. yet not a days goes by this ivory haired guy doesn't get on your nerves. He's always been seen following Mr. Sano with a candy pop rolling in his mouth, most of the time. While Shinichiro Sano, your boss is cooped up in his cave. He's kinda hard to read since he has a slight stoic expression. Since you joined you've only seen him smile this one time when Mr. Imaushi brought two of his friends along with him. One was quite bold and big statured yet the other one was slim , had a scar upon his eye. Sano sir sure has collected a queer guys.

And now here you are sitting in your cabin buried in the debris of paperwork. "This is not what I expected", you murmured. A knock on the glass door startled you. You noticed how the lolipop glided from one side to the of his mouth as you left the seat. You hurriedly made your way for opening the door. "All set for next week?",he asks as he dashes into your zone. "Yep! Almost there!" Wakasa surfs his hands through the paperwork scanning through all the mess. "Had your lunch?" You looked at your watch realizing it's been already past thirty minutes since the lunch break. The lilac orbs took notice of your clumsiness as you bit your lower lip in disappointment.

"I forgot!—um—Sir"

"Yah ! figured!"

You bowed down your face trying to hide your embarrassment but your eyes fell into the man in black to the other side of the glassy-cabin. There he was standing at the opposite of door,busy in a call yet his dark googly pupils glued onto two of you.

You turned your head towards Wakasa as Shinichiro dashed into the room. "Waka, you're fired!", he states in a slight fury. "But I don't even work here",he protests plopping up his toffee. At that moment, as Shinichiro's focus layed on you again your jaw dropped thinking how easily you got fooled by Wakasa whom you totally mistook as one of the board members; who was just close to Sano sir.

Shinichiro snapped his fingers at you."You! My room! Now!"— as those words left your boss' mouth you grabbed your paperwork, more like snatched it from Wakasa shooting a glare at him. "And now she's mad! You made her mad, Shin " Wakasa's voice drilled into your nerves as you faded into the corridor clenching your plams around the cluster of papers.

The silence in the room was too much too bear; a familiar set of footsteps echoed through the room as the man entered in your room; sitting on the table just like Wakasa the other day. Your eyes quickly scanned him and switched onto the papers.

"Anger doesn't look good on you, Miss L/n" he states. Before your lips could even part a few staff came in so as to stack a pile of files infront of you. Your eyebrows heaved yet the low growl from your stomach betrayed your composure. As they left the room, Shinichiro crouched over opening the shelf beneath him. A packet of waffled cookies came into display. "Here,have some!"

"No Sir! I'm good"

"Eat. I know,you didn't had your lunch today" ,he adds and munches a cookie placing the pack infront of you.

"Now, then shall we begin,y/n', he exclaims shoving his hands into the pockets.The heat flushed into your cheeks as his sudden calling by your name knocked your senses low.

"Most of it is done, I'm only left with the guest list for which I need -

"my help",he cuts you off folding his hands into his chest. You nodded in approval. You started looking for a fresh set of papers yet suddenly out of nowhere you blurt out,"Does he really not work here?"

' that's not what I wanted to say. That was such a stupid question. It's a good thing that annoying man won't be here or not. Why do I care but I should ask like that. Haha! Clumsy me!' , thoughts kept bubbling until your lips parted in order to inhale a short breath. "I shouldn't have asked that, sorry sir. I really am", you pleaded.

Shinichiro tapped the pencil at the corner of your hands on the collection of papers, diverting your attention to it. While your sheepish eyes looked down on the paperwork he took a sip from his coffee mug.

While you cursed yourself for asking such a baseless question he exclaimed," he is getting fired because of you", he pauses for you to get your attention. The tip of your hands felt cold as you tried to turn your head slightly still looking down; his bold tone perforated your curiosity as he completed the rest,"he's fired 'cause I want you to like me." A short giggle reached your ears.

"but that still doesn't answer my question!", you protest out of nowhere gaining his acknowledgement with a beautiful laughter. "Ahh !", he takes a breather continuing,"You really are unique!", he adds noticing your pout as you try to calm your exploding emotions framing the guest list chart. "I'm in a big mess", you pondered as he paused his chuckle, trying not to look at you after such a prankish comment.

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seokahwrites · 3 years

Text

NUISANCE | chapter 1 (or, human walls and steak fungi)

5.8k

back to nuisance masterlist

pairing.

| lawyer! jeon jungkook x lawyer! reader (feat. ex! kim taehyung)

summary.

| all you wished for was a relaxing two weeks in a big ass boat eating some big ass shrimps, away from the real world. but instead you’re stuck with your arch rival with no means of escape — and goddamit why does the bastard smell so good

tags.

| the spice has commenced; POUTY JUNGKOOK???; hunky jungkook?; jungkook?; jungkook in a suit; a LOT of jungkook; pouty reader; stressed out reader; use of the words dick and cooch; use of the word satan (to refer to kim seokjin ofc); KIM SEOKJIN IS THE REAL MAIN CHAR; poor joon is a victim; JUNGKOOK WEARING EARRINGS AND BRACELETS; taehyung is nice (?) (¿question mark?)

a/n.

| this writing was sponsored by red bull, alcohol and fantasies of casual jungkook as well as jungkook in a suit. also, jungkook’s smile is described as tight lipped bc his signature smile appearing is important to the story. also i wanna know y’all’s thoughts on tae. BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY THANK U FOR THE COTINUOUS SUPPORT AND LOVE, I WILL CONTINUE TO GIVE MY BEST AND THANK U FOR READING MY STORY <333

Having once spent a sleepless night reading Dante’s inferno, you were well aware of the fact that there are 9 layers of hell.

Though, it seemed the old man had forgotten about the tenth circle: Anywhere with Jeon Jungkook.

Since the first time you met him, you never had any reason to believe that he was a humble character. He had always looked at you from the top of his high horse and he took much pride in trotting on it.

As you, Jungkook and the receptionist wait for the elevator, the air thick with discomfort, you look at the man in front of you and remember that first time.

Your head is invaded with the memory of you in your Hello Kitty pajamas, adorned with grease and all, as you worked on a divorce case that causes you migraines to this day — love is a bitter bitch. It must’ve been past midnight when you and Jin were chewing away pizza slice after pizza slice at the office.

Then, there’s a knock at the door.

“If that’s Namjoon I’m literally going to fire you,” you bark at Jin as you hold his leftover crust on one hand and a document on the other.

And Jin, being the smart ass he is and knowing you wouldn’t survive a day without him, gets up from your leather couch without a word and opens the door, launching himself at none other than Kim Namjoon.

You roll your eyes at the love birds while wondering when the fuck their honeymoon phase was gonna end. You were so sick of them.

“Y/N,” Jin calls you from your desk, urging you to come to the door and once you’re beside him, this time with a cup of coke in your hands, “Can you keep them entertained for a bit? I just gotta grab Namjoon’s meds.”

Before you could say no, the little devil was already running off to his own cubicle, leaving you alone with the all familiar Namjoon and a very much not familiar stranger.

You lean on the doorframe without uttering a single word, sipping on your drink as well as the stranger — Sure, looking back at the moment you kinda just wanna punch yourself in the cooch and tell yourself to get a grip, but you weren’t blinded with hatred at the time, and also not blind — because it isn’t every night that a man clad in a charcoal suit and an unbuttoned shirt, comes knocking at your door; not to mention his watch dazzled under the artificial light and he held the blue tie in his hand with just the right grip.

You’re snapped out of your daze when the man goes from checking the time to whispering something in Namjoon’s ear, covering it the same way eight year olds cover their own secrets, and he laughs. This would all be good and well if he hadn’t looked at you with such appall in his eyes the moment before, the look still clear as day in your mind.

You're reminded that your makeup was probably smudged from all the times you had rubbed your eyes, your skin oily from the tiresome day and you were wearing Hello Kitty pajamas.

Maybe you shouldn’t have taken the insult so personally, but you did.

“I’m here,” Jin is back, a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder as the other one passes him a lunchbox of cold medicines, “What did I miss?”

At this you look up from the pitiful ground, pulling Jin back to your office, and accidentally spill (or throw) your coke at the stranger. You watch in delight as he looks at his very expensive looking suit drenched in a sticky brown, utter terror in his eyes, inhaling the wonderful moment for a second before shutting the door in his face.

The consequences of your actions: an almost two-year long rivalry with the stranger, revealed to be Jeon Jungkook moments after the incident when Jin asked, “Did you just throw your drink at Namjoon’s boss, you crazy bitch?”

And that wave has rippled to this day, in the form of insults and high-school level teasing (if his brain had even evolved to that age). The words “I’ll have you all to myself’ comes to mind; it makes you puff with exasperation. Sure it comes off a little flirty to unknowing ears, but it was just another reminder of Jungkook’s dismay — and that he had an all new access to torture you.

You attempt to shake the ick from your body, but in a trice you found yourself in front of the suite, the four floors you travelled to get there seemingly a glitch in time.

Isabelle scans the room card in front of the handle, handing it over to Jungkook after the green beep. “This is your room!”

You shove Jungkook aside, pulling your trolley as you enter. You had seen the pictures before, but seeing the grand room before your eyes in all of its shades of brown and gray dispersed throughout the walls and furniture, the intricate branch of lights in the ceiling and the panoramic ocean view that gave it its name; it made you forgot who you were sharing it with for a moment.

When you turn around, Jungkook is as wide eyed as you, and it makes the corners of your mouth lift ever so slightly because he looks like a fucking dork.

“Well,” Isabelle is smiling and you could sense her relief of not having to deal with the two of you anymore, “If you need anything, me and the rest of the Royal Sunrise team are available at all times, have fun!”

And just like that, she made her escape, leaving you and Jungkook standing in the middle of the room, alone.

For a moment you shut your eyes as hard as you can, scrunching your face with your fists up, in hopes that a miracle happens and Jungkook disappears. You have been having some odd dreams lately, maybe this was just—

Nope. He’s still there.

Since his eyes seem to have wandered too far, you call out his name to bring him back to earth, crossing your arms when his gaze lands on you, “We should probably talk about a few things.”

He drops the backpack from his back as he nods.

“First of all, the sleeping situation—“

“Yeah, I already thought of that,” he walks to the (very cramped) couch on the other side of the room and pats the armrest, “I’ll take this wonderful bed.”

You look at him with quizzical eyes, wondering how the hell was he of all people going to fit there. But it wasn’t really of your concern if he wanted to get scoliosis, he had made his decision.

“Plus, you need beauty sleep much more than me.”

What a waste of oxygen.

You shrug off his words, immune to his childish remarks at this point, “Okay, then. Next on the list, eating arrangements.”

At this point he’s picking up his things and placing them in his territory, “Why is that on the list?”

You move closer to the windows, a little excited when you see the balcony — you would use it to either push your roommate into the cold ocean or catch up on a few books, tough choice. “Because the tables are arranged by rooms.”

You felt the confusion in his eyes poking at your back, so you turn, “That means that we need to share a table for the next few days, dipshit.”

Jungkook shakes his body in agony, throwing a tiny tantrum, “Why is that even a thing?” He whined.

When you feel a headache coming, you grab your own luggage and place it on top of the bed, opening it up and digging in the pockets for a little bit of liquid luck. God knew you needed it.

You down the sample of Jack Daniels in one go with a bitter face and a blow of air.

“Really?”

You start picking out your pajamas for the night, “I was saving it for when I’d find a hot stranger by the pool but—,” when you look up and see the mess on Jungkook’s couch, you’re taken aback, “What in the world is that?”

Jungkook’s hands are rummaging through the jungle that were his things, and it’s obvious that he just shoved as many clothes as he could find lying around the house. He grabs hold of a white tee, “What?”

Again, a waste of—

“WOAH, WOAH, WOAH.”

In the roll of an eye Jungkook’s torso is fully exposed, his back turned towards you with all of its bumps and mumps looking right at you. And you only become aware that you are staring when Jungkook notices the lack of a comeback, pointing it out with a smug tone.

“Y/N,” he doesn’t turn but he snaps you out of your stunned state all the same, “I can practically hear you drooling.”

At the very next instant you cover your eyes, just as little kids do when an inappropriate scene comes on the TV. “You wish, jackass,” and it comes off a little shoutier than you expected, as if the lack of visual correlated with the volume of your voice. Blindly, you grab your shirt and shorts from the bed and run to the bathroom, which just had to be on Jungkook’s side of the room.

And things take a turn for the worse when you run into something, and that something is warm and firm and breathing.

“Uh—.”

Pain.

You convince yourself it was just an invisible, Jungkook shaped wall they failed to mention on the website and fling yourself to the bathroom door, finding the handle rather quickly from all the adrenaline.

Once you’ve slammed the door shut, you let your back slide against the wooden slab and your ass hit the marble floor.

The clothes are still in your grip, your left hand feeling your overheating cheeks and for a tick you think that maybe, just maybe, you should throw yourself into the water and let the sharks take you so you could be buried at the very depths of the ocean. It seemed like a better fate than whatever the fuck was awaiting you the next two weeks.

You take a deep breath in, letting your mind focus on something else.

You look around and, oh, wow. Even the bathroom was charming — if you could ignore the absurd amount of windows, any sea creature passing by would surely see more than they should — glass making up all of the walls, including the shower’s.

The exposure that surrounds you, in its own weird way, cleared up your head the tiniest bit and for the first time since you’ve arrived, you were able to think, only the ocean and its blue around you now.

And what would be your first course of action after a glimpse of clarity?

Calling that rat bastard assistant of yours, of course.

You stand up and place your phone atop the hazel counter after clicking contact name ‘Twinky’, out of fear you’d smash the damn thing when you hear his voice, smoke was bursting at the seams of your chest. Prepare to meet your end, Kim Seokjin—

“Good evening, Ms. Y/N. For what reason are you contacting me in the midst of your vacation?”

Breathe in, breathe out. “Don’t get all formal with me, Kim,” you’re wagging your finger to no one, “I know you did something. Confess.”

The obnoxious twirling of Jin’s chair could be heard through the speaker, “I’ve no idea of what you could possibly be talking about, Madam—“

“Confess.”

“Fine, fine,” you could picture Jin putting his hands up at your murderous tone, “Me and Joon just thought it was about time you two kids got together.”

You take a pause from your pacing around. Motherfucker.

“Okay! I thought it was time and convinced Namjoon to go along with it,” your fist meets the counter with an audible thump, and you were seethed at the probability of Jin smiling at your behaviour. “Speaking of it, how’s it going?”

“Well, Jin,” you place the microphone as near to your mouth as possible, “JEON JUNGKOOK IS TAKING OFF HIS CLOTHES IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING ROOM,” you put on a docile face and naturally assume that Jin could see you telepathically, “So you tell me how it’s going.”

For the first time since you hired him, you had left Jin speechless. Or so you thought.

“I didn’t know you would move this fast—“

“Jin.”

“I apologise, I apologise,” the witch cackles, “But you didn’t give me any context, I only assumed the best.”

“Spare me from your taunts, you hag,” you huff and roll your eyes, “And, as I’ve told you many times before, Jeon Jungkook is literally the worst. I hate—.”

“—him. Yes, Y/N, I’ve been hearing the same speech every single day for two years,” you could hear Jin walking back and forth before an abrupt pause, “Listen to yourself, Y/N, you brought this upon yourself. Whenever you saw or just remembered Jungkook existed you wouldn’t stop talking about him. So, being the good friend I am, I handed you his—,” you rush in a failed attempt to muffle his next words with your hand, “—dick on a silver platter.”

Oh, dear lord.

“You’re out of your mind if you think I wanna be anywhere near Jungkook’s—,” you speak in a hushed tone, “—thing.”

“See, you can’t even say it,” and you give up, because no matter how many times you denied it, Jin never let up. “Anyway, I gotta go and… take a call. Have fun!”

And he hangs up.

All you can do is groan, making a mental note that you oughta kick Jin in the balls one of these days, and you look at yourself in the mirror — you couldn’t even enjoy your tacky shirt because of him. Was a normal vacation really too much to ask for?

You remember that the universe had already answered your question with a big yes, and you can’t help but pout.

Still, ever the changing mind, were you really going to let the universe win?

Your pout turns into a smirk. Of course, you weren’t. All you needed to do was avoid Jungkook as much as possible, that would be easy for sure, you were on a gigantic cruise ship after all.

Yeah, this can still be great.

And so, quick to think as always, you grab your phone and scroll through the Royal Sunrise website.

To your luck, the cruise offered classes and activities of all types with a different theme each day — tomorrow is cooking. Not only was it going to be actually entertaining, you could avoid Jungkook without having to look behind you every other minute.

Genius.

With this new mindset and plan, you change into your oversized navy shirt and banana-printed shorts, a newfound excitement in your step. You even bang your chest with each of your fists, a gorilla-esque fighting technique if you shall, as a way to pump you up.

The door doesn’t seem as intimidating when you push it open, your arms swinging at your side as if you were one of the seven dwarves. This was good.

Immediately you're met with the vexing view of Jungkook, and you quirk your eyes when you notice that all he was wearing was a pair of gray shorts and that white tee, the oddity of it all iffy in your head since you’ve only ever seen him in suits and shirts. There’s a familiar tingling of (what you always assumed was) contempt in your fingertips and toes, one that would only ever occur with Jungkook. Hatred finds a way, huh.

He looks at you, back to his phone and back to you all in one second, and once his brain processes that you’re back and present, he ditches his phone and props himself up on one elbow. “You know the walls aren’t that thick, right?”

The tingle turns into a twitch and you almost hit yourself. Breathe, Y/N.

Jungkook sits up, crossing his arms, his eyes wandering once again, “I knew that Namjoon was planning something. He was sweating so much, I thought it was just the heat,” and they land back on you, “Turns out, it was betrayal.”

You head to your own king-sized resting place and a chuckle slips out of you at Jungkook’s little remark. “You did hear that Jin was the one who dragged him into this, right?”

You’re both pulling your covers over your bodies with silent grins due to the dumbassery of your assistants, “I assumed as much.” At this, your smiles become full-out laughs and your heads must have been too exhausted to dwell on the out of character situation.

It fades after a few seconds and you take one final look at Jungkook before turning off the lights, only to make sure he was already laid down.

Your anxiety comes back to the surface, your eyes staring blankly ahead at the ceiling.

“What a mess,” you don’t even notice you had blurted it out loud.

The rustling of sheets sounds through the otherwise cricket-silent room, “Tell me about it.”

Another chuckle.

“Jungkook,” you call him, the words coming out with no warning, “Can we just promise, no monkey business? I just really wanna relax and—.”

“Y/N,” he stops you before you could yap any further, “No monkey business.”

His interruption makes you sheepish, that tingle coming back as you fiddle with the sheets.

All of the sudden, “Good night, Y/N.”

Silence.

“Don’t be a killjoy.”

Groan. There really isn’t any reason for you to answer the prick. Still, you roll your eyes, “Good night, you troll.”

You hear his pleased sigh.

“Kinda bummed you don’t want my thing, though.”

Damn you, Kim Seokjin.

Your eyes flutter open, not with the calming sound of the dancing waves or the rustling of the sheets beside you from a happy hour mistake, no. You wake up with the sound of the shower running, the drip drop of the water meeting the glass floor of the bathroom.

The walls are very thin.

The image of a very naked Jungkook just next door is forced into your head, and you try to get rid of it by putting a pillow over your face, in hopes that it would put an end to your misery, but the world only gives a hundred problems and zero solutions.

Sat up, you remind yourself of the fresh-new mindset you had implemented yesterday, and this motivates you to restart your morning right and get dressed for the busy day ahead.

You squat down to your bag, grabbing the first jumpsuit and shoes in front of you, surprisingly not too shabby. The black off-shoulder fabric was adorned with pale pink flowers and your basic white sneakers didn’t add much but they were still a welcome fit — you’d only brought three pairs of shoes, so you didn’t really have much of a choice.

The background noise of the shower running disappears.

Shit.

You stumble around the room, trying to switch out of your clothes as fast as you possibly could to avoid any of yesterday’s incidents repeating, the need of any sort of grooming forgotten along the way. Still, you succeeded, and just as Jungkook unlocked the bathroom door, you were out of the room.

The joy in your step was back as you took the few steps needed to the elevators, pressing that little button of victory. Though you’ve been to countless luxury premises, the details of each place still managed to leave you awestruck, and the black railing and golden walls of the ship with decoration clearly inspired by the Romans, weren’t an exception.

The elevator was going from the sixth floor to the fifth when you heard a door open, the hairs of your back standing up out of instinct.

“Wait up!”

Fuck me.

You turn to the left, met with the, once again, odd view of Jeon Jungkook wearing casual clothes, this time in a charcoal shirt a few sizes too big, black cargo pants and signature chunky shoes. But, there’s something even more strange and you can’t quite put a finger to it, it isn’t the fact his lavish watch was replaced with leather braids on his wrist or that his hairs strayed a bit more wildly, it’s—

“Holy shit,” your eyes shoot wide open, “Are those hoops?”

Your hands almost go to touch the silver in his ears, but you remind yourself you’d probably turn to stone.

An unfamiliar red paints Jungkook’s face as his own fingers prod at the earrings, his eyes not meeting yours, “Maybe.”

A gasp. “How did I never notice,” you state more than ask, but Jungkook answers all the same.

“I mean, I never wear them to anything work-related because keeping a professional image and all of that,” he looks at you, his bashfulness fading into an all-knowing smile, “And those are the only times I see your bitter face.”

You scoff, “Wow, actually we talked like normal people for a whole thirty seconds.”

The imp has the audacity to laugh at your face, the way he stops to scan you up and down going unnoticed by your sight. “I gotta say, Y/N, you actually know how to dress—“

Ding.

The black tinted doors open to the glass elevator, a panorama of all the ship’s floors in full display, blue and purple lights reflecting on the gilded ornaments. Your hands rest on the black railing and you don’t even notice there’s another person in the elevator.

“Y/N?” The deep timbre of the voice is all too easy on your ears.

A slight turn to the right is all it takes to see him, fluffy ash hair (that was rough between your fingers from all the times he had dyed it), a shirt that flowed like the clouds and beige slacks that matched with the sepia of his sandals (an ensemble that contrasted the vibrant version of him in your memory). But that square grin was still the same.

“Tae?” You laugh in utter disbelief, “Kim Taehyung?”

“Come here!” His long arms bring you into a hug and with your head nuzzled against his chest, his heartbeat echoed good times, easier times that weren’t filled with paperwork and suits.

It’s interrupted by your forgotten acquaintance clearing his throat.

You pull away, recomposing yourself as you stand beside Taehyung, “Jungkook, this is Kim Taehyung,” you feel Taehyung’s eyes on you, “He was kind of my college boyfriend.”

They shake hands and look back at you, as if waiting for something.

“Uh— Right. Tae, this is Jungkook, my—,” you glance at the brunet to find the right words, “—co-worker, of sorts.”

Your embarrassment only deepens when you remember that the Jeon Jungkook was a first-hand witness to the mess you were melting into in front of your ex-boyfriend.

Who needed caffeine when shit like this kept happening to you.

“Oh,” Taehyung’s voice drops an octave as he shoves his hands in his pockets, “So you two came together?”

And you wave your arms around to signal a ‘no’, but it comes off as ‘that-one-crackhead-at-the-corner-of-the-street-ish” instead. “God, no,” you snort, much to your chagrin.

Taehyung sticks his tongue between his teeth, staring down at Jungkook who was chewing on his own bottom lip, “That’s good to hear.”

It seems you’ve regressed to your college-self, tucking your hair behind your ear with blushed cheeks at your senior.

Ding.

The elevator had arrived at the first floor, Jungkook’s cue to leave.

But he doesn’t make a straight itinerary, instead standing in front of the elevator, “Aren’t you gonna catch breakfast, chump?”

Ah, right. Your genius plan could finally come out in the open, “No, actually. I have an all-day cooking class on the 5th floor.”

“No kidding,” Taehyung turns to you and places a hand on your bare shoulder with a wide smile, “Me too!”

At this, Jungkook’s shoulders slump and his expression falls flat, but you couldn’t get a word in as the elevator doors closed and he swiveled away to his own day.

Eh, it’s not like it was your affair anyways. Plus, 9AM wasn’t the hour to deal with his bullshit.

You and Taehyung made your way up, speaking of all the things you’ve been up to for the past three years.

“So, Jimin’s dancing in Europe,” you gasp, a swell of pride in your chest, your old friend would talk about it every free night he spent in yours and Taehyung’s flat.

“Yeah, now I don’t know who’s keeping an eye on all the dumb shit he does.”

The weight on your shoulders only got lighter with every laugh you shared with Taehyung, sweet nostalgia.

“We’re here,” you point at the chalk sign, the words ‘Bon Appetit’ scribbled on it.

Out of sheer intuition, you pull Taehyung by the wrist until you reach the entrance, a Royal Sunrise worker awaiting with a list of, what could only be, the names of the participants.

You let go of Taehyung when the man’s eyes travel to your holding hands. Oh, God.

He smiles, “Good morning, Mr. and Ms. What would your names be?”

“Good morning, I’m Y/N Y/LN,” your smile hadn’t left your face, “I signed up yesterday.”

He nods and you walk inside, Taehyung following you before the worker puts up a hand to stop him.

“Your name, sir,” his tone changes..

You look back, wondering what the fuss was about.

“Uh— Kim Taehyung.”

The man reads over the clipboard, even flipping to the previous pages. “Excuse me, Mr. Kim. But your name doesn’t seem to be in the—.”

Taehyung’s calm demeanour becomes a bitter scowl as he pats a fifty dollar note down the man’s pocket before he could continue his speech. “Just let this one slide, buddy.”

The sight is a bit rough on the eyes and the corners of your lips turn downwards, something itching at your throat, but you hadn’t seen him in a long time and he most likely had good intentions with the man, you could let it slide, right?

“So,” Taehyung rubs his hands with a smile that reaches the pillows of his eyes, a 360° from the him you saw a few seconds ago, “Where were we?”

The blue of the sky had faded into a deep lilac once you and Taehyung were finished with your last batch of food.

You stood outside with smiles plastered on your faces and flour sprinkled on your hair, reminders of a day well-spent.

“This was great,” you held boxes of chocolate crepes and mushroom pasta, “Except for the fact I was forced to eat and deal with mushrooms.”

Taehyung’s eyebrows pull together, “So many years together, and I didn’t know you hated mushrooms,” you remember telling him countless times, but he never had the best memory — you don’t bother to bring up your hatred for crepes. “But, yeah… I think it was the company that sealed the deal, though.”

A beat of silence. The boy was smooth as ever.

You’re the first to break it. “I guess I’ll go get dinner then.”

“Right, right,” he purses his lips, “I’m gonna catch a nightcap, too full for food anyways. See you, Y/N.”

And you only mumble a small goodbye before you and Taehyung are going different directions.

A day well spent indeed.

Grumble.

You couldn’t keep it in anymore.

Holy Moses, were you hungry as shit. Who knew that barely eating breakfast and lunch could do this to a person.

Once the coast is clear, you run to the elevator, pressing the button repeatedly because why is this thing so fucking slow.

The time taken to go down to the first floor is even more agonising, but you just imagined the wonderful meals that actually tasted like food waiting for you downstairs. You could feel the pork melting in your mouth already.

Ding.

Since the first floor is more packed, you pace yourself as you power-walk to the dining area but you arrive in no time, walking through the tables and scanning each marker for the number 83, until you finally find your salvation — and the mop of brown hair sitting there with its unmistakable silver.

You park your ass on the wooden chair and place the white boxes of gag-worthy food on the table.

“Fancy meeting you here, Y/N,” Jungkook shoves a fork of rare steak and potatoes in his big mouth.

“Don’t antagonise me, Jungkook,” you leap to grab his wrist before he can get another scoop, “Where’s the food?”

You feel him tense under your grip, “Okay, let go of me, hungry hungry hippo,” you loosen your fist and lean back on your chair with crossed arms, “And the restaurant is out of steaks for the night, your only other option is some fried fish or something,” he continues munching.

“No—,” your head meets the table with a bang, “—I’ve been dreaming of red meat all day.”

“Didn’t you cook at— you know, cooking class?”

“Yes, we did,” you sit up and shove the boxes of trash to Jungkook as he examines them.

“But, you hate mushrooms and crepes,” he turns his head in a robotic motion when he opens the lids.

Your hunger fades for a bit as that tingle in your fingertips pushes you to sit straight, leaning your head like a curious puppy.

“How do you know that?”

Jungkook bites his bottom lip as he seems to think of a response. “Well, you mentioned it at the Law & Practice Awards a few months ago,” he rubs his fingers on his chin with a feign look of concentration, “I believe your exact words were: ‘Why does the stake have fungus on it’ and ‘Everybody knows that crepes are just a—.”

“—a cheap version of pancakes,” you finish his sentence with surprise painted on your face. Still, you question him, “But, how do you even remember that?”

Jungkook’s flush is back on his cheeks, “As they say, keep your friends close,” he flashes that tight lipped smile of his, “And your enemies closer.”

Just as you were about to flip the fucker off, your stomach grumbles. Out of all of the moments it could’ve complained, it decided to do so in the only second of silence.

Jungkook mumbled something along the lines of “That’s it,” under his breath and let out a sharp exhale, cutting up his steak and taters and pushing them into a smaller plate, adding a few greens in the mix. He snaps his fingers at the nearest waiter and grabs a glass of wine from his tray. The act finishes off with him pushing the food in your direction.

You stare at the food, at Jungkook and back at the plate again. Dumbfounded, once again.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Eat,” he continues on with his dinner as if he hadn’t just done— Well, what he just did.

You bite your lip and bow your head slightly, though you’re sure he doesn’t see it, before vacuuming the food directly into your belly.

The rest of the evening is spent in comfortable silence, no daggers threatened to be thrown or scorn weighing in the air. This lasts all the way to the door of the room; you were fine with communicating with only ‘hums’ and nods but Jungkook, as always, had to ruin things.

He leans his back against the white door, arms crossed and a smirk as he looks down at you. “How lucky of you to have your mortal enemy and—,” he puts up air quotes, “‘kind of college boyfriend’ in the same boat as you, huh?”

You palm your face and hide a sheepish smile, “I was hoping you’d forget about that.”

“How could I when I was your special guest to first hand embarrassment in the elevator,” he waves the white flag of peace as he puts his hands up, “But, hey—“

“Hi, Jungkook,” someone behind you purrs, heels clacking.

You turn around and see a woman of jet-black hair in a stunning red silk dress, the pony-tail on her head swinging a delicate left to right as she waved her manicured hand at none other than Jungkook — who brushes a hand through his hair before complimenting her greeting.

It takes you by surprise, though you laughed at Jungkook’s gnarly stance at the beautiful woman, the tingle comes back, this time prickling at the pit of your stomach.

As soon as she had walked away, you rubbed your hands at the sides of your arms, “Wow, Jungkook. Moving fast are we?” you squint your eyes, “I think it’s the earring.”

“First of all, screw you,” he unlocks the door, “Second, that’s nothing, trust me.”

He holds the door open for you and you catch a whiff of his black vanilla scent. You stop in your tracks and place a hand on his shoulder with a grimace on your face, “Just don’t do anything on my bed, okay?”

You don’t bother to wait for an answer as you head to the bathroom with your comfy tee in your hands.

This time, the counter was embellished with skincare and cologne galore, all thanks to your dear roommate.

“He wouldn’t notice if I used some of this, right?” You say to Jungkook’s bottle of cleanser, too lazy to go back and grab your own toiletries.

“If you use that I’m drowning myself,” you hear him shout from the other room.

Sorry, face. You’ll have to wait for tomorrow.

Once you were snug in your tee, you were off to bed — Jungkook in the same attire as yesterday as well.

You leave the lamp on as you checked your phone for the first time since yesterday. Of course, Jin was your only notification, a plethora of obscenities and questions that would, unfortunately, be permanently ingrained in your mind forever. You turn off your phone and throw it on top of the night stand.

Not today, satan.

“You mind?” You ask Jungkook who seemed to be scrolling away, too engrossed in his phone to look at your finger pointing at the light, only a grunt on his behalf.

You turn it off and shut your eyes, your body tense, not that you weren’t used to it, the decaying muscles of your back have been like that since you graduated high-school. And, it was a bit more intense from all the mixing and pot handling — thank the heavens that tomorrow’s activities involved massaging. Though, today was a win.

Jungkook’s phone turns off and his body sloshes around, the sounds he makes the only ones reverberating in the room.

“Good night, Y/N,” you try to ignore him, but he comes forward with a good case, “Come on, I gave you my food.”

Guilt tripper.

“Fine, but only because you’re annoying as shit,” he lets out a satisfied breath, “Good night, Jungkook.”

You arrive at dreamland in no time.

taglist. (open)

| @fangirl125reader / @vantxx95 / @jinpanman / @ggukkieland / @miniiimee / @paizthemaiz

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