#lets focus on the issues at hand and stop trying to point fingers at innocent groups of people.

[quaranmine]

why do people always try to blame hermit and traffic fandom discourse on new dsmp fans. bestie we have our own homegrown discourse to be responsible of, it isn't always someone else's fault

[kryptonitejelly]

i saw you wanted law school!hitch requests sooo maybe an academic rivals to lovers type with a badass reader. they have a lot of “banter” but they don’t actually hate each other yk

A/N: i knowwwwww bestie, i know.

Edit: continuation here because I couldn’t help myself.

Requests for blurbs are currently open here.

“It clearly points to the UK as being the seat of arbitration.”

“No it does not,” you drawl out, “see clause 52 of Agreement C Hotchner.”

You hear the rustling of papers as he flips the printouts in front of him, watch as his eyes narrow in both focus and annoyance as he skims the words on the page in front of him.

“She’s right Mr Hotchner.” Your professor calls out and he seethes, throwing his hands up in defeat before sinking back into his seat.

“Very well, so now that we’ve established the seat of arbitration is in fact the UK, lets move on to the the issue of joinder and consolidation. Richards, your turn.” She moves onto Richards, and you shoot a glance over at Aaron who makes a face at you. You stick out your middle finger, in good nature of course, only to earn a guffaw of laughter from some of your classmates who are observing the exchange.

Your academic rivalry with Aaron Hotchner had taken place from day 1 of your contract seminar, where you both tore into each other, arguing over whether in the case study you had on hand, existed a contract or not. It was, as your professor had groused in amusement, the most vicious debate over a simple, time old academic problem, that he had seen in all his years.

Aaron had introduced himself to you, officially, at a frat party later that night, clinking a red solo cup against yours. You had become fast friends, both involved in a weird friendship of sorts where you would bicker over academics, tear into the other during seminars snd lectures, compete against each other to be the best oralist at moot court, and yet, managed to find solace in one another whether it be from studying together, getting drunk one too many times together, or just being there for each other.

-

“You know you got lucky earlier today in arbitration.” He sinks down beside you, both of you lounging on the sofa in his frat house. It was a strangely quiet afternoon, with most of the boys gone.

“Lucky at your lack of ability to read?”

You feel a gentle tug on the ponytail you had thrown your hair up into, pulling your head back, and you go with the flow, head tilting back, your eyes meeting Aaron’s dark brown orbs.

“That’s unkind princess.” He says, a mock expression of hurt on his face.

“Not when its true.” You shoot a sickly sweet smile at him, before continuing, “but don’t worry Aar, I’ll tolerate you because I’m big on charity.” You cup his face with a hand, patting his cheek mockingly. It makes him growl, as he gives your ponytail another gentle - but slightly more forceful - tug.

“Cat got your tongue?” You widen your eyes in fake innocence, as you blink in rapid succession to aid to the guise. It makes him raise a brow, hands dropping from your pony tail to grip the sides of your ribs. You take a moment to realise what is about to happen, and a split second for him to begin tickling your ribs.

“Fuck - Aaron … stop.” You squirm against him, barely managing to pant out, a whine dropping from your lips as you push against him to no avail. You hear him laugh, the deep booming sound interjecting amidst your protests and he finally stops, letting himself collapse on you, your bodies both horizontal on the surface of the sofa.

“You are the worst.” You mumble, trying to steady your breathing from his earlier shenanigans, as you tilt your chin down into your chest only to find yourself staring at a dimpled smile. His face is just mere inches from yours, and you find yourself staring at his lips, something you had never noticed looked so soft, until now.

“See something you like princess?” He notices, a small smirk flitting across his face. The weight of him lying ontop of you is suddenly painfully obvious.

“No idea what you are talking about.” You mutter in a rush, as you feel the blush rising in your cheeks. You struggle to push yourself up, but he doesn’t budge, weight firmly trapping you under him.

“I think you do.” His eyes flick to your lips, before he leans forward, pressing his lips against yours. Your eyes widen, meeting his for a split second before he pulls away.

“That ok?” He asks again, eyes searching your face.

“More than ok.” You respond, tangling your hands into his hair, pulling his head forward. His lips meet yours and you can feel the smugness. “This doesn’t mean you’re right Hotchner.” You mumble between your lips working against his.

He hums nonchalantly, bringing a knee between your legs, his fingers splaying out against your ribs.

[emeraldiis]

Pillow Talk

A/N: i will never apologize for being horny on main

AO3 Link

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: After an entire day of staring at you in that bikini, Loki is left utterly desperate for release. Good thing he sleeps with a lot of pillows.

Tags: masturbation, phone sex, pillow humping, needy!Loki, pining

Loki shifted on the bed, mashing his face roughly into the satin pillow case. It was nearly dawn, and he hadn’t slept. Even the tiniest hint of sleep had evaded him, and he’d tossed and turned enough to make his muscles ache in protest. With a frustrated growl, he rolled onto his back and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw stars. This was never going to work.

He had no one to blame but himself for his insomnia. Really, it was pathetic, the way his mind had latched onto one silly little human and made her the object of his obsession. You with your silky hair and soft eyes, keeping him up until the morning hours. Your melodic voice rang in his eardrums, and every time he closed his eyes, he’d see that perfect skin of yours and wish it was pressed up against--

With a gasp, Loki swiftly brought his hands down to grasp the sheets in agony. He wished he could blame it on the fact that he hadn’t bed anyone in at least a decade, but he knew himself. Celibacy had never been an issue for him in the past; he wasn’t a teenage boy, he could control his needs. But you had him feeling like one all over again. The way he gawked at you like it was his first time seeing a pair of breasts nearly spill out of a way-too-tight tank top, it was downright shameful. You were just so innocent, so pure, and he longed to see that smile collapse into a pout as you whimpered against his lips.

Despite his best efforts, Loki could feel his cock throb in renewed need. It had been begging for release nearly all night, and Loki had successfully ignored it so far. He held steady in his determination in not giving in, but his resolve was slipping. Today has been especially tortuous. Tony and his goddamn insistence that Loki participate in team bonding. A day at the beach, one which Loki spent lounging in the hot sand shielding his eyes from the blinding sun. You had splashed around in the waves with Natasha and bounced around in a bikini that seemed specifically designed to torture Loki. The bottoms had shifted themselves to ride up quite a few times, and Loki had taken pleasure in watching you reach back with slippery fingers to pull them out of your ass.

Loki’s cock throbbed again, almost violently this time. He moaned softly into the open air. The sound was pained, and Loki felt his hand begin to drift towards the string of his pajama bottoms. They were silk, and because Loki had chosen to forgo underwear, the soft material felt like heaven against his swollen erection. Before his fingers could slip inside to where he needed them most, Loki ripped them away in defiance and turned onto his side, tangling the blanket between his legs as he rolled. The pressure of the thick comforter into his crotch made Loki suck in a surprised breath. His hips twitched upward of their own accord and Loki’s eyes fluttered in pleasure.

Loki could feel his will dissolving with every jolt of pleasure that swam up his spin. His mind spun with images of you: you curled up against him, reaching back with your dainty hand to pull him closer to you, encouraging him to grind against your backside. As if he was in a daze, Loki grabbed one of the many pillows adorning his bed and shoved it between his legs. The firmness of the pillow was so much more satisfying than the blanket, and Loki groaned.

It was over, he had accepted defeat. Loki was about to hump his pillow like an animal and it was all your fault. He thought of that wet bikini sticking to your skin, your breasts bouncing as you jogged back up the beach to him and breathed out a “what’s up” like he wasn’t about to cum in his swim trunks just from watching you. As the memories danced through his head, Loki’s hips began to roll in more deliberate motions. With every thrust, his cock pressed up against the soft material of his pants. Loki could feel the pre-cum wetting the silk, but it only served to amplify his pleasure as the damp fabric clung to his skin.

The buzzing of his phone startled Loki out of his fantasies, and he nearly wanted to throw the thing against the wall. Tony would get him a new one, as he always did no matter how many times that Loki had insisted they were unnecessary devices. As much as he wanted to let it ring, Loki had learned that calls at this hour usually meant an unexpected mission, and he’d be back on house arrest if he didn’t answer. Loki reluctantly leaned over to his bedside table to grab the vibrating object, keeping the pillow between his legs. His heart came to a near stop as he saw your name illuminated on the screen.

A few moments passed as Loki stared dry-mouthed at the caller ID, wondering when he had fallen asleep. Because the only explanation for you calling him in the middle of the night was that he was dreaming. Sure, you had texted him the occasional internet video that you thought he’d enjoy, but had never called him. And certainly not at five in the morning. With a hard swallow, Loki hit the “accept call” button and waited.

“Hey, Loki?” Came your tired-sounding voice. It wasn’t as gorgeous when muffled by the phone static, but it gave Loki shivers nonetheless.

“What is this about?” Loki tried to sound as irritated as possible, figuring that would be the proper reaction to receiving a call this early. The truth was that he was elated to hear your voice, and was disgusted by himself. A mortal, making him this weak in the knees, it was absolutely pathetic.

You were silent for a moment. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t sleep. I-I’m not really sure why I called you, I’m sorry for waking you up. I’ll just--”

“Wait!” Loki burst out before you could end the call. His loud voice echoed back at him in the silent room and he cringed, hoping that no one had heard him. Loki bit his lip anxiously, uncertain of what to say to keep you on the line. “Um, I was awake. I couldn’t sleep either.”

“Oh, I guess that’s good. Well, not really good that you can’t sleep, I mean good that I didn’t wake you.”

Loki chuckled at your awkward ramblings. Norns, you were so cute. “Don’t worry, pet, I know what you meant.” As the words left his lips, Loki’s eyes widened as he realized what he’d just called you. Pet. It had been a slip of the tongue, but it brought forth a whole new round of fantasies. He couldn’t help but imagine about what it would be like to own you, to grab you by your pretty face and push his cock between your lips over and over. Absent-mindedly, Loki began to move his hips against the pillow again. He had to bite down on his tongue to keep from gasping. As quietly as he could manage, he put the call on speaker and set the phone down beside him so he could lie back on his side and resume his earlier activities. Loki knew it was so, so wrong to do this while you were none-the-wiser, but he couldn’t help it. He had been so worked up for so long and now it was like his body had taken over, hell bent on getting the relief it needed.

“So, why couldn’t you sleep?”

“Oh, just lost in my thoughts, I suppose,” Loki said as his eyes fell shut. His voice was the slightest bit strained, the soft drag of his pants against his cock making it hard to focus.

“Yeah, same here.” You sighed into the phone, and Loki heard a bit of rustling as you presumably got more comfortable. “I have trouble sleeping a lot, actually. I guess I just get lonely.”

A heavy weight of guilt sank into Loki’s chest. Here you were, opening yourself up to him, and he was trying to get off to the sound of your voice. He was truly depraved, that was for sure. But fuck, the tired rasp to your voice and the small sighs you let out were sending him sky high. His mind was running wild with fantasies of you under him, you in his lap, you up against the wall as he fucked you into it. Loki fought to sound normal as he responded to you. “I understand. Most beings are very social creatures, we need company to--ah!” A particularly rough thrust of his hips had caught Loki off guard as the mind-numbing pleasure rocketed through his body.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, pet,” Loki said, panting as he forced his hips to still. “Just stretching.” It was a lame excuse, but Loki was too far gone to come up with anything better. His body quaked as he tried to keep still, like his own muscles were attempting to disobey his brain. Everything in him was screaming out for more. Cum, you need to cum. Once again, Loki was forced to give in as his hips resumed their grinding. The pillow itself was now damp with how much he was leaking, and it felt amazing.

The phone was quiet, and Loki could almost hear how hard you were thinking on the other end. And then: “Loki, are you...masturbating?” Your voice trailed off as you said that word. The sheer embarrassment was evident in your tone, and Loki was almost astounded at how bold you were. Not many humans had the nerve to just up and ask something like that.

Even through the shock of being caught, Loki could not find it in him to be surprised that you had caught on. You had always come across as intelligent to him, it was foolish to think he could fool you with a half-hearted excuse. Still, it was beyond humiliating to have been called out so brazenly. Loki saw no point in denying it; you would not have asked if you weren't sure. “Yes,” he replied, voice cracking as he froze in place for the second time. Despite the embarrassment, Loki’s erection did not not falter. In fact, it seemed that he only got harder. This mortal would be the death of him.

“O-oh!” You seemed surprised, like you hadn’t expected him to come right out with it. “I’m so sorry, I guess I interrupted you, huh? Shit, I’m sorry.” How absurd. Loki was the one shamelessly rubbing himself against a pillow while talking to you, and you were the one apologizing.

Loki found it intriguing that you hadn’t hung up immediately upon learning of his actions. You hadn’t seemed disgusted at all, just apologetic for interrupting his activities. Loki wasn’t sure if your lack of repulsion was what caused it, or if it was simply his need clouding his judgement, but his mouth began to move before he could stop it. “It’s excellent for sleep. I highly recommend it for nights like these.”

There was no sugar coating it; that was a proposition, no matter how poorly disguised it was as simple advice. “Um,” came your faint reply. Loki’s face burned as he pictured the look of horror you were probably wearing at the moment. And then he nearly swallowed his tongue as you spoke again. “Yeah, I tried earlier. Wasn’t really...working.”

A new gush of blood found its way into Loki’s cock at your admission. He couldn’t help but imagine you writhing on your bed, soaked in sweat and your own slick as you tried desperately to get to that crescendo of pleasure. His blush had somehow grown even stronger, and he couldn’t recall the last time he had even blushed at all. This mortal was killing him, you were his executioner and he was begging for you to pull the trigger.

“That’s quite unfortunate,” Loki managed through his reverie. He was still frozen, almost scared to begin his motions again for fear of cumming on the spot. His cock twitched in time with his racing heart, occasionally dripping precum into his pants. Loki was a mess, but he could not bring himself to care in the slightest. All that mattered was the arousal screaming under his skin and your intoxicating voice in his ears.

“Yeah. Sorry, should I go? And let you, y’know, finish?”

Loki racked his brain for an excuse to get you to stay. It was maddening, how quickly you had ruined him. Seduction was one of his many talents, as was manipulation. In the past, he would have had no trouble at all talking someone into his bed and onto his cock, but you were different. Every flirtation died on his lips the moment he was in your presence, and it was all he could do to form complete sentences as you turned his knees to jelly.

After an excruciating period of silence as Loki thought, he finally spoke. “It would be unfair of me to abandon you in favor of pleasuring myself when you cannot do the same.”

This time it was your turn to stay quiet. Loki waited anxiously, half-expecting you to just leave anyway. He had already come to terms with your disinterest in him, you were probably just being polite. But...you had called him. There must have been at least a slight attraction for Loki to have been on your mind after attempting to get yourself off.

“Maybe we could…” There was a tremble to your voice as you trailed off, and Loki held his breath as he waited for you to finish. Whatever your suggestion ended up being, he was ready to enthusiastically agree. Anything that involved you and pleasure was incredibly enticing. “Maybe we don’t have to hang up, then.”

Loki’s eyes went wide. Did you mean…? An involuntary moan fell from his lips as he shivered at the thought. “I would, mm, not be opposed to that idea.” Loki’s body had won over for the final time that night and his hips began to move again. After restraining himself for so long, feeling that delicious friction once again nearly overwhelmed him.

“I don’t really know how to do this,” you said. “I can’t really believe I actually asked you that.”

“Would you like instruction, pet?”

“That might help, yeah.”

Loki began to wonder if he was dead, and this was his version of Valhalla. Whatever the case, he was going to ride this high for as long as he could. Everything else seemed to fade into the distance: the chirping of birds outside as the sun rose, the hum of the traffic down below, all of it meant nothing. It meant nothing because you were on the other side of the phone asking for Loki to tell you how to touch yourself. Loki took a deep breath and tried to get a hold of himself; he needed to let you catch up before he could allow himself to lose control.

“I want you to get undressed, and get comfortable.” That was a simple enough command, Loki figured. If he started slow, maybe he could reign in his pathetic neediness and focus solely on your pleasure.

“Okay, I can do that.” The speaker went quiet as you presumably settled onto your bed and slipped out of your pajamas. “Now what?”

“Touch your breasts,” Loki said. His breathing was heavy, but even as he settled into the role of your instructor. “Rub your fingers across them, tell me how it feels.”

You sighed happily. “It feels really nice. Can you tell me what you’re doing?”

Loki was a bit ashamed to admit that he was currently grinding into a pillow, but figured there was no point in lying. “I’m, uh, I have a pillow between my legs, and I’m rubbing against it.”

A whimper burst from your lips. “Oh, that’s so hot.”

“Is it?” Loki asked hesitantly. He didn’t feel very attractive; slick trousers and sweat coated skin, fighting hard to hold it together.

“Yeah, fuck. Can I touch myself, please?”

Loki wanted to drag it out a bit longer, to tease you, but he couldn’t find it in himself to say no to that pretty voice. Especially when you asked so nicely. “Go ahead, pet. You’re such a good girl.”

There was a faint slick sound, then a drawn out moan. Loki groaned in response, the sound extracting a full body shiver from the god. He had never heard such alluring sounds of pleasure, you were just so far above any other being he had ever met. “That’s it,” he murmured in encouragement.

“Feels so good,” you said, voice growing high pitched. “Shit, I’m not gonna last too long. Ah, fuck. Been needing this all night.”

Loki sucked in a breath and began to thrust with more fervor. His eyes nearly rolled back at the pressure and his thighs squeezed around the pillow. “That’s okay, darling. I, oh--” Loki cut himself off with a strangled moan as his pleasure mounted. “I need to cum, too.”

For a moment, panting and whimpered moans were the only thing coming through the speaker. Loki prayed that you were as close as he was, because the coil tightening in his stomach threatened to snap at any moment. It was all he could do to keep from allowing his release to overtake him before you got yours. “Please, pet. I want to hear you cum,” he ground out as his eyes fell shut.

“So close,” you whined. “Loki, I’m gonna cum.”

He couldn’t help it. Loki’s control disintegrated as he began rutting into the pillow like a wild animal. His hips moved in sharp, quick thrusts, and quiet moans left his lips with every movement. ‘Cum--fuck, mm--cum for me, love.” He was going to cum, he couldn’t stop. He just needed you to finish first.

The phone crackled as you let out a sharp cry of pleasure. Loki listened in a trance, trying to memorize every noise that left your lips as you climaxed. Your sounds spurred him on, and he found himself tipping over the edge, cumming harder than he had in a long time. Pleasure whited out his vision, and Loki could faintly hear himself whining your name in a broken voice. He didn’t get the chance to be embarrassed about the noise; his cock pulsed in dizzying waves of euphoria, spurting out rope after rope of hot cum. It shot into his pants, soaking them all the way through and seeping into the pillow. It wasn’t until the last drop had left his body that he was finally able to stop the groans that had been bubbling up from his throat.

As the pleasure subsided, Loki sagged against the bed and took in the mess he had made. His pants were ruined, no doubt about that. And the pillow? Well, it would most likely need a few good washes. But he felt sated, too relaxed to even care about the cum drying to his thighs.

“Are you still there?”

Fuck, he had almost forgotten that you were still on the phone. “Yes,” he croaked out. “That was…”

“Amazing,” you finished for him. Though you couldn’t see him, Loki nodded in agreement.

The bed suddenly felt very large and very empty after the daze of Loki’s orgasm faded. He found himself wishing that you were here, so he could wrap his arms around that perfect waist and bury his nose in your hair. It was an incredibly foreign feeling; Loki had never been one to cuddle after sex. But then again, everything about you was different. You were special. Loki opened his mouth, ready to invite you to his room, but something stopped him. What if this had been just a spur of the moment thing for you? What if you only saw him as a tool to get yourself off?

“Would it be weird if I came down there?” You asked, startling Loki out of his thoughts. There you went again, calming his anxieties before he even had the chance to feel them.

A relieved grin broke out on his face, and his heart sped up again in excitement. “No, I would very much enjoy that.” And for the first time in a very long time, Loki felt wanted.

[sunrisefairy]

Annoying

Paring: Remus Lupin x fem!reader Warning: NSFW! MDNI 18+ unprotected sex, swearing, mentions of oral sex. If I’ve forgotten anything let me know! Summary: Remus finds the reader so annoyingly distracting.  A/N: for the anon that wanted a mix of enemies to lovers and Remus losing control near the full moon. I hope I did it justice.  Requests are open!

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Remus Lupin isn’t one to hate people, sure there is only a select few people that he actually likes spending time with and considers his good friends but that doesn’t mean that he dislikes everyone else, he just doesn’t have time for a lot of people, especially annoying people. And some people are just more annoying than others and most times those people don’t even realise they’re acting as such. Except for the girl who is basically in every one of his classes, you. Remus is certain you know how infuriating you are, especially when you shoot your hand up to beat Remus to answering a question or how a smile will stretch across your pretty lips when you finds out you scored higher than Remus on a test or how you always seems to giggle a little louder when you knows Remus is nearby. Remus finds it irritating how you seems to know exactly how to get on his nerves, you know precisely how to make his cheeks heat up in anger and make his blood boil and his cock hard, okay maybe you don’t realise you’re doing the last one but still. But the thing that annoys Remus the most is you don’t seem to care.

Being friends with James Potter and Sirius Black, Remus has learnt to obtain the patience of a saint. He finds no trouble in zoning out their constant chatter and ignoring their mindless bickering. However, as it gets closer to a full moon, Remus’ tolerance wears thin and the marauders quickly learnt to simmer down and be wary of Remus around a full moon, unless either one of them wanted a smack to the back of the head. As it gets closer to his transformations Remus’ senses are heightened tenfold, it’s as if he can hear every sound, smell every scent and everything he tastes is 10 times more intense.

His joints were aching more than usual last night so that combined with Peters constant snoring ensured minimal sleep which resulted in Remus being extra irritable today which would have been manageable if he didn’t have a class first thing with you. Beautiful, cute, annoying you.

Remus thought if he could just spend the lesson concentrating hard enough on the professors dull voice that you sitting in the same room as him wouldn’t be an issue, it wasn’t like he sat next to you anyway, James or Sirius always occupied the desk next to him eager to ‘share’ his notes. Expect this day was different, because Remus got little sleep last night he slept through his alarm and somehow even slept through the booming voices of the Marauders when they were getting ready this morning. Remus started off the day jumping out of bed and rushing to get ready, having no time for breakfast (which added to his already foul mood) and practically falling through the classroom door only to find his usual seat was pre-occupied by some girl Sirius was trying to woo and James was sitting next to Pete.

“Ah, Mr. Lupin. How fantastic to see you have finally decided to join us. Please find a seat so I can continue on with my lesson,” the Professor states before continuing his lifeless lesson.

Remus quickly scans the room for a free chair to rush to, he spots one in the far corner of the room but falters in his step when he notices who is seated next to the free space, you. Remus groans when he realises this was the only free chair and very obviously drags his feet before plopping down beside you, he can only hope you decided to not be annoyingly distracting today.

“How scandalous that Mr. prefect is late to class,” you whisper, chuckling when you see Remus roll his eyes, a usual reaction of his.

Remus comes to the conclusion that the best point of action is to just pretend you don’t exist, which goes according to plan until 3 quarters of the way through the lesson. The thing is, Remus hasn’t sat in such close proximity to you this close to a full moon before and he’s struggling to keep his focus on the jumble of words in front of him and not on the way you’re obnoxiously twirling your hair between your fingers. Whatever perfume you sprayed on yourself is suffocating Remus’ nostrils and he can’t get enough. Within no time Remus thoughts are straying away from his textbook to more filthy thoughts surrounding you. The main image that is burning a hole in his brain is the thought of burying his face in your neck and inhaling your scent and sinking his teeth into your perfect skin, he has to bite his lip to stop himself from groaning.

Remus manages to write 2 more messy sentences down before glancing in your direction and noticing the way your lip is pulled between your teeth and he can’t help but fantasise about biting your annoyingly pretty lips himself.

“Stop doing that,” Remus grits through his teeth as he speaks.

You meet his gaze confused, “stop doing what?”

“That!” Remus whisper yells, pointing at your lips as you once again pull your bottom lip in between your lip. “It’s distracting.”

You mumble an apology and go back to writing your notes. You’re so engrossed in reading the selected chapter you don’t even notice you’re bouncing your leg up and down rapidly until a rough hand stills your movements. You’re expecting Remus to remove his large hand once your movements stop, however to your surprise he keeps his hand resting firmly against your bare knee. Mouth agape and staring down at where Remus is touching you, the way his thumb is stroking at your skin seems innocent enough, so why is your stomach in knots?

Remus leans dangerously close to your ear, which thankfully goes unnoticed by the rest of the class given the fact the two of you are seated at the back of the room. “You are being very distracting right now bunny, it’s making me angry.”

A visible shudder runs through your body, feeling Remus’ hot breath fanning the side of your face makes your mouth dry. Remus’ low teasing voice makes you whimper immediately a heat rushes up your cheeks because even though your whimper was quiet Remus is so very close to you right now, you know he heard.

“Come with me,” Remus squeezes your knee and moves to rise from his seat.

You halt his movements by grabbing onto his bicep, “we can’t just leave, we’re in the middle of class.” Your eyes dart to the front of the room to see if your professor has witnessed Remus’ half standing and planning his escape.

“What’s life without a bit of risk bunny, now c’mon.” his tone demanding and firm. Without even a second glance Remus walks out of class, making you wonder if he’s done this before. The odds are high, given that he’s one fourth of the infamous marauders clan.

You look away from the door Remus just so carelessly walked out of and to the front of the class at your professor, he’s sitting at his desk reading over papers and very obviously trying to stay awake. The chances of him catching you are slim but that isn’t what you’re nervous about. You’re nervous about what will happen if you do make it out of the classroom unnoticed, you’re nervous about what Remus will do to you. The endless possibilities are both thrilling and exciting. There’s no way you could stay seated not when there’s a wetness pooling in your panties just from Remus’ hand on your knee.

Carefully you slip out from your seat and rush to the door, breathing a sigh of relief when you successfully make it out into the corridor. Looking around you notice the corridor is empty and there’s no sign of Remus, you begin walking down the hallway in search of the boy.

“Remus?” you’re met with nothing but silence. Just as you’re about to turn and head back to class you feel a strong arm grip yours and tug your harshly into a tiny room.

“Ooft,” your body slamming into someone’s hard chest; if only there was a light source in this closet? yes it’s definitely a closet, if only it wasn’t so dark in here you would be able to figure out who decided it a good idea to scare the shit out of you by pulling you in here with them.

“Took your fucking time,” the other person grunts, Remus you thought, you knew that voice.

“Remus, what the hell? Care to explain why your dragged me out of class and into this dark broom closet?” Although there is no light in the tiny closet you can vaguely see Remus’ outline towering over you, you gulp realising how close the both of you are standing to each other. Remus’ hot breath fans your face and you’re very aware that if you were to angle your head further upwards and stand on your tiptoes you could connects your lips. The thought itself has you shuddering.

“Couldn’t wait.” Remus replies, stepping closer, invading your personal space even more, not that you minded.

“Couldn’t wait for what?”

“Merlin you’re dumber than I thought if you don’t know.”

You scoff defensively, “I am not dumb, do I have to remind you I bet you on the last Charms essay? and on the transfigurations one so-”

The words die in your throat, Remus cutting you off by connecting your lips in a needy and desperate kiss. Immediately you wrap your arms around his neck and tug him closer by the hair. Remus rests his hands on your waist pulling your hips flush against his, you whimper feeling his hard cock pressing against your stomach.

Remus breaks away from your mouth and starts sucking and licking down your jaw and neck while his hands move to grope at your breasts over the top of your school shirt. “We don’t have much time before class ends.” Remus mumbles into your skin, his mouth is salivating when he breathes in deep, his nostrils filling with the sweet scent of you, it’s so intoxicating and immediately images of you are accompanying his mind, some more sinful than others. Remus wastes no time in sinking his teeth into the fleshy part of your shoulder, his cock twitching at the sound you make.

“Then you better hurry up and fuck me Remus,” you smirk, loving the way Remus groans and narrows his eyes at you. His pupils have seemingly expanded and darkened, his eyes are scanning over every inch of your face leaving you feeling vulnerable.

Your pussy has been throbbing since Remus firmly rested his hand on your leg back in the classroom and you know your panties are soaked by now with the way Remus is rutting his hips against yours but it’s not enough. It won’t be enough, not until you know what it’s like to have Remus’ skin against yours and his cock inside you but even then, you think you will always be wanting more of him.

Your hands are fumbling at Remus’ pants trying to get them unbuckled as quickly as possible, Remus understands the rush and helps you, skilfully undoing his pants and pushing them along with his boxers down his legs with only one hand, the other creeps under your shirt and rests delicately on the small of your back. Just the feeling of Remus’ skin on your back makes you melt further into him, your desire to have him fuck you hard and fast is becoming unbearable. Remus’ cock is sitting hard and angrily between your bodies, desperate for any sort of attention and Remus wishes you had more time because he would love to push you down to your knees and finally force you to shut up by pushing his cock into your sweet mouth and make you gag and choke around his length until you’re crying. But time isn’t on his side right now so instead Remus wraps his strong arms around your arse, silently signally you to jump which you do with no hesitation and lock your legs around his waist.

Remus reaches his hand down to flip your skirt up, he be damned if he couldn’t see the cunt he’s spent way to much time thinking about. Remus pull your panties to the side groaning when his fingers graze your wet dripping core, another thing he wishes he could do is to taste you. He just knows you taste sugary and sweet just like the sounds you’re making as he teases your entrance. He wants to bury his face deep in your cunt inhaling your scent while he licks and sucks until you’re screaming his name, maybe another time.

“You gotta be quiet for me kay bunny? Think you can do that?” Remus’ voice is thick with lust and a condescending tone is laced throughout it.

“You think that highly of yourself?” you retort trying to rile Remus up like you normally do, it seems to be working judging by the way Remus pinches the flesh of your arse.

Without breaking eye contact Remus lines up his cock and drags your hips down until he’s deep inside you, his balls pressed flush against your skin.

Remus isn’t sure if it’s because it’s close to the full moon but he hasn’t even started moving yet and the way the soft velvet walls of your cunt is gripping and hugging at his cock feels so intense and heavenly, he thinks he might cum right there.

Along with a lack of patience around this time of the month Remus also struggles to control himself and his urges. It takes every ounce of self-discipline in him to hold you against the rough wall of the broom closet and slowly rock his hips into yours, feeling the need to control the situation. Remus is very conscious of not gripping your hips too hard and not slamming his hips up into yours too roughly, he doesn’t want to let go mentally and hurt you.

You can tell Remus is holding back, the authoritative tone used in the classroom is vastly different to his actions right now. He’s supposed to be fucking you hard and fast and making you scream, not this.

Although the pleasure from Remus’ rocking into your cunt is great you know he can do better, can fuck you better. “Remus,” you whine, pulling his face away from your neck, forcing him to look you in the eyes. There’s clearly an internal struggle behind his eyes. “Remus, I need you to fuck me properly. I can take it, you won’t break me, promise.”

Remus does pick up the speed slightly, but you can clearly tell there’s still some hesitance on his behalf and you asking nicely didn’t seem break that. You’re desperate for Remus to let go. A smirk breaks out onto your face, an idea forming. Based on your previous interactions you know exactly how to get under Remus’ skin, what to say and do that would have him clenching his jaw in annoyance, after all it was a hobby of yours, annoying Remus Lupin. “Guess we don’t have to worry about me being quiet if you fuck like this. Pity, was kinda hoping you’d have me screaming.”

Something deep and primal in him snaps, blame it on the full moon or how you’re silently challenging him, he doesn’t care, all he cares about right now is proving you wrong, and he wasn’t going to stop until he had you trembling and shaking.

His grip on your hips tighten, nails threatening to break skin as Remus pushes your further into the wall behind you so hard for a second you think you might go tumbling right through it. You’re grateful for the material of your school top slightly soften the rough texture of the wall behind you. With no warning Remus starts slamming his hips harder and faster into yours, clearly set on making you squirm against him. Each thrust is harder than the last and his cock is poking your g-spot repeatedly. The sounds you were making were positively indecent and only fuelled Remus on. Neither of you cared that anyone walking by the broom closet could possibly hear the sound of skin slapping together or yours and Remus’ moans. None of that mattered, not when the two of you felt this good.

The vigour of Remus’ pace was unmatched and all you could do was hold on tight to Remus’ shoulders and take every powerful thrust. You were hypnotised with the feeling of Remus’ cock inside of you, you couldn’t help but wonder what other parts of his body like his fingers or tongue, would feel like when fucking you.

“Fuck Remus, so good. I-I” you weren’t even sure what you were trying to say, all your thoughts were jumbled and bouncing around in your brain, all you knew is you never wanted Remus to stop.

“You feel amazing,” Remus’ body was on fire, every inch of him alight and burning, his annoyance of how his day started was far from his mind. All he could think of was you and how you were clenching around him. He chokes out a strained sob when he hears you chanting his name in time with each rough snap of his hips, you sound both angelic and sinful at the same time, Remus’ wishes he had one of those muggle voice recording devices so he could record your whines and listen to them when he’s alone in his dorm room.

Using his free hand Remus reaches down to rub tight circles on your clit edging you closer and closer to your release. Your orgasm is fast approaching much like a freight train heading straight for you, sirens blaring but you can’t move, the pleasure is too intense and too powerful to do anything except take it.

Remus’ face is pressed back against your neck and he quickly decides it’s his favourite place to be, if someone offered him 1,000 Galleons to never bury his face in your neck, he wouldn’t take it. Remus can hear the squelching sounds of your soppy cunt as it helplessly takes his fat cock. He’s leaving sloppy kisses and hickeys wherever he can get his mouth. It’s right when Remus’ digs his teeth into your neck and bites down hard do you fall apart, your pussy clenching and spasming around him, right in this moment you’re thankful for Remus holding you up against the wall, your legs are shaking and tensing and you know if you were standing the intensity of the orgasm would have brought you to your knees. Remus’ name is the only word you seem capable of saying as the coil inside your stomach snaps and rapidly unravels as you come undone.

“Remus, Remus, Remus!”

You connect your lips with Remus’ in a lame attempt to shut yourself up, the kiss is rushed and your teeth clash together but you don’t give a fuck. Remus’ name is still spilling from your lips and into Remus’ mouth as your body begins to come down from the high.

The boy holding you up hasn’t faltered in his movements at all, determined to fuck you through your orgasm. There’s beads of sweat dripping from Remus’ forehead, his mind is whirling and thoughts of you are spiralling around his brain, he thinks he might pass out and he’s certain he does for a second when you whisper and bite his earlobe.

“Want you to cum inside me Remus, fill me up,” half a thrust later and Remus’ hips stutter and he’s spilling into your cunt groaning your name as he does so. His vision blurs around the edges before he closes his eyes and he lets out a moan so deep, primal and loud. Remus continues to rock his hips milking his own orgasm until the last drop is squeezed from his soften cock. He stills his movements but doesn’t dare pull out just yet, relishing in the warmth of your pussy and the way your hand is brushing the sweaty hair off his forehead. You rest your forehead against Remus’ sweaty one, pecking his lips, once, twice then three times.

“That was…” you drift off unable to find the right words to describe what just happened.

“Intense?” Remus offers breathlessly.

You nod, “in the best way.”

It wasn’t until you hear the sounds of students outside signalling the end of class do either of you move, Remus helping you clean yourself up. And it wasn’t until the two of you were certain the coast was clear did you exit the closet with the promise of doing that again very soon.

[eremiie]

study session, sex songs

❥ armin x reader | nsfw | 2.3k words

❥ content: semi public sex, vaginal fingering, a sex tape

❥ a/n; an ask i got that i took an ss of and then tumblr deleted my asks, but i HAD to do this🙄!!!

you were bored.

you were so bored that the sound of the rain drops hitting the window next to you was almost a form of entertainment, or maybe the shuffling of people trading books on the shelf.

at this point anything was better than the piece of paper and book in front of you. you had been staring at the words so long that they were all the same. you were rereading the same sentence over and over again, and aimlessly sketching small drawings on the paper in front of you.

studying wasn't your strong pursuit, especially with your boyfriend next to you, who seemed to love it. at the thought of him, your eyes glanced over— a sight for sore eyes when you had been staring at chemistry notes for the past half hour.

a pencil was dancing on paper in between his slender fingers, jumping with every lift of his hand and coming back down to the white sheet like a figure skater on ice. he wore glasses to study, large frames sitting on the bridge of his nose, his hair so close to touching them. those same blonde locks almost hid the earphones that were snug in both ears, and you wondered if whatever he was listening to is what helped him study so diligently. his tongue stuck out just a little bit in concentration, while his eyes flit back and forth between the paper in front of him and the book above it.

he must've been watching you watch him, his attention turning towards you and the mechanical pencil coming to a quick halt mid sentence. he set it down to the table gently, and you lifted yourself off of the surface to balance your head on the palm of your hand. "armin." a whine of his name, clear discontent laced in your voice.

"yeah?" his reply was so simple, so innocent. as if he didn't drag you to the library with him, practically pleading for you to just sit down and study with you knowing you hated studying, especially in the atmosphere of a library. there were too many distractions and you weren't comfortable. not to mention the fact that you were clad in a skirt.

"i can't study, can we just go?" his expression didn't change at the sound of your complaints, eyes still calm and lips still together in a line. you didn't want to come in the first place, he should at least give you the liberty of leaving when you asked— especially considering how long you had been in the quiet library.

"do you think listening to something will help?" armin's eyebrows came together as his hand came to point at the earphones in his ear. you really didn't want to stay, but when you thought about the focus your boyfriend was in that you broke you did feel a little bad.

your legs shifted from under the table and you sat back in your seat, crossing your arms in your lap and letting out a sigh, eyes traveling around the vast library. when they landed back on armin the earbud was already sitting pretty between his fingertips. it was glaring at you and you were glaring at it, but nevertheless you leaned forward and plucked it from armin's fingers, his lips upturning when you did.

he slipped his hands in his pockets to fumble with his phone and you picked up the pencil in front of you to try and get back to studying, checking to see what page armin was on while you waited for the music to play in your ears. what music was armin into anyways? the last thing you could remember him listening to being a spotify playlist full of lo-fi beats.

only... it wasn't lo-fi beats that began to play.

or music.

your body went rigid, pencil in your hand beginning to feel heavy, leaving you to wonder how it hasn't clattered to the table yet. a chill ran down your spine because what you were listening to was all too familiar— from the wet sounds that happily made its way into your ear, to a moan of armin's name that sounded much too like your own voice.

it was your voice, because when you heard another moan it was armin's cry of your name.

it took you a minute to turn your head towards armin, his eyebrows raising over his eyes in question of what you could possibly want now. he hummed a small "hm?" to figure it out, as if it wasn't obvious. that look of innocence was played by him again, blue eyes twirling with curiosity as if there was anything to be curious about. as if your sex tape wasn't a reason for you to look at him funny— eyes blown and mouth agape.

when you didn't respond— only still staring at him dumbfounded, he shrugged his shoulders and continued to scribble on his stupidly neat paper.

were you hearing things right?

your eyes flashed, brows knit as you shoved armin's shoulder, his pencil flying off the paper and messing up the "e" he was in the midst of writing. "you messed up my paper." he grumbled, and oh, was he a little too good at this game he was playing with you.

"what is this?" you questioned, disregarding the flimsy sheet of paper he was writing on because that was clearly the least of his issues.

armin used his pencil to point to your book, confusion taking over the once curious look he had just moments ago. "...a study session i would assume." he wasn't letting up, and your lip twitched at his response.

"no— i mean what am i listening to?"

"well, out of everybody you should know." your body stiffened again, a slow blink at his response that came out almost too smoothly, words sliding off his tongue like silk. you had to pull your gaze away from him as he only did just what he did earlier, going right back to studying like there wasn't anything off about the moment you were sharing.

if he wanted to play with you, you'd just have to join in his game.

so with a huff of breath, and the lewd noises that were still playing in your ear you turned your body back towards your notes in front of you and tried to read them over again. your name was the only thing comprehendible on the sheet, every word below it a jumbled mess.

"light wave... light waves, diffraction pattern..." you spoke slowly, reading as if you were back in the first grade.

your hands moved down from the textbook and to the paper in front of you, nimble fingers forming words on the paper that you could only hope would make sense when you'd read them back.

diffraction pattern - occurs only

"only who?"

"only you fuck me like this, armin, please!"

the tail of your y went a little too low, and your legs turned to jello, squeezing together when you heard your voice swim through your ears. blood was rushing to your cheeks, and you leaned closer to your book, burying your nose in it despite not actually reading what was on the pages— at least well. with a suck of breath you continued to write,

diffraction pattern - occurs only you fu

your eyes shot open mid sentence, and you scrambled to spin the pencil around until the eraser met the paper, erasing what you had written furiously, and you swore you heard a small chuckle leave armin's lips, you biting your own and scrunching your nose up at your pitiful mistake.

your hands came up to rub at your temple, the sound of a moan armin drawled from you a couple nights ago was what you heard next, and it might’ve sounded nice those nights ago, but now it was embarrassing.

you squeezed your eyes shut, much like your legs and as flustered as you were you couldn’t help but feel... aroused.

it was something about hearing armin fuck into you so nice. the way that even though there was no visual for you to look at, you could visualize the moment so clearly— so vividly, because the more you listened the more you could remember making the tape, remembering what happened during the tape.

armin’s hands had slid up your back, a handful of your hair being grasped by his hand, a sinful arch being created by your back, and you let out a choked whimper, that you didn’t even realize you reciprocated in real life.

armin’s head slowly turned to you and his lips were forming a sick grin, and you would’ve been mad if you didn’t want him so bad, if you didn’t want every moment you could hear to stop being the past and become the present, the very moment that was playing in your ear to play out in front of you.

a whine, a pleading look on your face; eyebrows turned upwards and your hips grinding down into the chair below you.

armin could’ve almost laughed if he wanted to, and he almost did when your hand slid into his lap to grab his and pull it to the hem of your skirt, the fabric brushing lightly against his fingertips, but he didn’t push forward.

“armin,” his name never sounded so nice on your tongue, never sounded so desperate. your grip on his wrist tightened and urged him forward, and so he let them slip under the soft fabric of your skirt, and even past the band of your underwear, and the closer he inched towards your aching cunt the wider your legs spread for him.

his finger felt cold against your clit when he touched it, rubbing small circles right away, and your face looked like it was melting at his touch, your body was melting at his touch.

and he was being kinder than expected— letting his fingers dip down further until your slick allowed for him to enter into you, your body shivering at his touch, at the stretch.

your head fell forward onto the table with a louder than expected bang, and it caused both you and armin to jolt, the people around you stirring a bit.

you didn’t care too much, but armin did, his fingers stilling and his eyes going back to his textbook, eyes darting back and forth between the words as if he was really reading them, and you wanted to give him a prize for best actor right then and there.

“shh.” he said without looking your way, but his fingers began to move again, and you tried your best to not let out a moan. “gotta be quiet if you want me to fuck you with my fingers... this is what you want right?”

the sound in your ears were practically drowned out by your thoughts, by the squelches of your juices being moved around by armin’s middle finger, by the sounds that only you could hear— and maybe armin if he listened enough.

“yeah... i want it.” the small pants that were leaving your parted lips, and they only increased when armin inserted a second finger, his hand making itself comfortable in your underwear, fabric harshly rubbing against his pale hand with every thrust of his digits into your pussy. “want it so bad.”

you looked like a dog, a puppy in its heat, pushing your hips forward to get him deeper into you, but it just wasn’t enough.

you were needy and needed more, so your own hand smoothed down to your clit and you began to rub circles, whimpering at the sensation, the pleasure flooding through your lower half, almost making you dizzy.

hell, you were dizzy— drunk even; drunk on the lust that was twirling in your pretty head, and drunk on armin’s fingers— it was like the way his hand moved when he wrote notes, moving precisely and ease.

his fingers fucked up into you, curling when they were deep enough, and making your body lurch forward. “again.” you needed to feel that again. the fingers on your clit went a little faster, because you knew you were close. “again.”

and he did it again, hitting that spot that made you clench around him, and he kept doing it, and your fingers kept moving, you were progressively getting louder, but it didn’t matter as you were getting closer to coming as well.

and you did, body tensing up and every nerve in your body pinching, mouth dropped open and eyes rolling to the back of your head as your hand came to hover just over your mouth just in case any sound left you.

you slumped over onto the table, pulsing around armin’s fingers but your own slipping out of your skirt and onto the space of the chair your legs made.

armin finally let out a stupid small laugh, his soaked fingers finally leaving your sloppy cunt and entering his mouth, tongue twirling around your release. it was a shame you weren’t looking.

you could hear it though, the obnoxiously loud slurping sounds he made and the hum of content he made before popping his fingers out his mouth. what you couldn’t hear was the tape. it must’ve stopped in the middle of armin fingering you.

and you also heard the slide of armin’s chair against the floor of the library, the sound of a book cover meeting it’s back, and the shoving of books into a bag.

armin looked over his shoulder with a bored expression, one that was eerily similar to the look you had given him just earlier when you were bored of studying.

your eyes met his; eyes still calm and lips in a line once more... “i can’t study anymore. let’s just go.”

[weatheredleatherhat]

domestic!Karl x Reader. R’s sweet and innocent while Heisenberg’s.. Heisenberg, even though he’s only soft for them. They do chores around their house, and decide to make dinner together. Karl’s not the most experienced, but R teaches him all he needs to know and is super patient with him, even when Karl gets frustrated over something. R calms him down, assuring him it’s gonna be okay, and after getting the hang of it, is super proud of himself. They slowdance in the kitchen, giving each other heart eyes while the food cooks and they end up feeding each other. Just something to boost serotonin.

((Yesss I love this idea! Here ya go! I didn’t write the feeding each other part due to my own issues with it, so I do apologise for that, but I hope I made up the difference with more fluff!!))

It had been a long day for Karl. It could have been forgiven if it’d just stopped with the fact that he’d had a difficult time with the soldats deciding to not function correctly for seemingly no reason, but no. Miranda had decided on a meeting to waste his fucking time with, over some bullshit that he didn’t care about. His body ached from overworking it, his mind could barely function from lack of sleep, and all he wanted was to pass out in bed and try again after a short nap.

All that was forgotten, as soon as he flicked his wrist to open the door that led to his apartment, stepping inside and his eyes flickered to all the differences that he could see. He’d never given a shit about the state of his living area; clutter usually piled every surface, dishes accumulating in the sink and the bedsheets desperate for a wash. But now, everything was sorted and in correct places, dishes clean and put away, bedsheets crisp and tempting. From the looks of it, you’d been working all fucking day to get the place looking this good, and now you were humming along to the radio in the kitchen as you started to pull vegetables out of the fridge.

“Buttercup?” he called out, toeing off his boots as he watched your head turn towards him and grace him with the brightest smile that he’d ever seen. The smile that never failed to clear all that bad shit from his mind, and only focus on you. Making his way into the kitchen, he pulled you into his arms, relaxing into a deep kiss that exuded gratitude. When he finally pulled away, he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear while his eyes flickered over the features of your countenance. “You’ve sure been busy today, hm? What’s all this about?”

“I thought it’d be nice for you to come home to somewhere warm and clean,” you said with a soft smile. “Somewhere to relax.” Your soft fingers traced over the tired lines of his face, and he found himself leaning into your touch with a soft sigh. “And by the looks of things, you need it today. Come on, go wash up. It won’t take long.”

He smirked, clicking his tongue against his teeth as he let you go before turning the sink faucet with a small twirl of his fingers. You gave him a quizzical look as he pulled his gloves off, shoving them into his pocket and washing his hands. When he looked back, he grinned as he motioned his head towards the vegetables laid out on the counter. “I’m not gonna make you do all the work today, Buttercup. C’mon, point me to a task and I’ll do it. Can’t promise it’ll be done well, but it’ll be done.”

You couldn’t help but beam with happiness as you got back to your task preparing what you’d need for dinner. You’d decided on a meal that you knew he’d like to come home to; meat pie and vegetables with potatoes. You got to work, giving him tasks that you needed completing while you focused on the pie crust. A few times you heard him swearing under his breath when he got something wrong, metal in the small kitchen space vibrating dangerously as his frustration grew, but all it took was a soothing palm between his shoulder blades to calm him back down. You taught him easier ways to do things, explaining as you went, and by the end of the impromptu cooking lesson you couldn’t miss the look of pride in his face as you put the pie into the oven and brought things to boil on the hob. It was nice to see, when it wasn’t marred with near lunacy like it usually was when it come to an achievement that would bring him closer to his goal of besting Miranda. No, it was a wholesome glimmer in his eyes, a wide smile as he gently picked you up by your waist and sat you on the counter top.

You giggled as he slotted himself between your knees, wiping errant flour off your cheek with a swipe of his thumb. “You’re real adorable, you know that?” he mumbled, chuckling when you saw the flush that crept over your cheeks.

You looped your arms lazily around his neck, pulling him closer as you rested your forehead against his own. “You don’t mind that I cleaned up, right? I didn’t touch your paperwork.” You knew how he got when it come to his work, and as much as you had the urge to organise, you know it wouldn’t be seen as helpful.

“Buttercup, you have no idea how much it’s helpful,” he said softly, resting his hand on your cheek. “I don’t know what I’d do without you here. Probably still sleeping on that ratty old couch.”

“And we just can’t have that,” you answered with a smile. “Don’t you worry. From now on, I’ll be taking care of you. Just don’t overwork yourself too hard, okay?”

“Can’t make promises,” he smirked, his voice low. “But I’ll do my best.”

You both shared the silence of the room as the soft melodies from the radio filled the air, Karl softly swaying you to the beat as you shared soft kisses and looks of adoration. He could never remember feeling this happy; feeling this cared for, without any ulterior motives. But the more he thought of it, the more he realised that he couldn’t remember because it’d never happened. Perhaps his parents had cared for him once upon a time, but the memories had been wiped out thanks to that beaked bitch, who had only done nice things for him thanks to ulterior motives. To him, compassion was transactional. A debt to be owed, when somebody did something out of their way for him. But with you, that was all different. You’d never asked him for anything, and so he found himself wanting to provide all the more because of that fact. He would crawl through hell if it meant you’d be warm, fed, clothed and happy.

You noticed that he’d got lost in thought as you ran your fingers through his hair, softly smiling as you kissed the top of his nose to bring him back to Earth. “What’re you thinking of?” you asked, head tilted in curiosity.

It took a few moments for him to answer, gently pulling you off the counter with an arm around your waist. His other hand gently took yours into it, holding it close to his chest as he started to slowly swayed your bodies to the song that amplified in volume thanks to his abilities turning the dial on it. “I think I want to dance with my beloved,” he answered with a wide grin.

Though your head tilted back in laughter, you humoured him with his request, putting your best foot forward as he led you into a slow waltz around the kitchen. You had to give it to him, he was a good dancer, and you wondered where he’d learned from. But you ignored it to focus on the wholesome moment of domestic bliss, enjoying your surroundings as you rested your head against his chest.

You danced until you heard the timer ring out, letting you know that dinner needed to be attended to. You huffed a little as you realised it would mean ending this moment, and he huffed out a chuckle in response. “We could just let it burn,” he mumbled, the hand that rested on your waist suggestively tracing a path up the side of your hips. “I always prefer dessert before dinner, anyway.”

You laughed at that, giving him one last kiss as you pulled away from him to serve up dinner. “You need a full stomach, a bath and a good sleep. There’s plenty of time for that later,” you suggested with a playful smile.

He chuckled as he got to work setting up the table for dinner. “That a promise?”

You rolled your eyes as you chuckled, serving the food up and placing the plate with the most food on his side of the table. “Finish your meal, and we’ll see.”

There was a playful glint in his eye as he watched you sit down, putting a forkful of food in his mouth and chewing slowly. His eyes widened a little as he savoured it, enjoying the flavours as he smiled. “God damn Buttercup, if you cook like this for me every night, you’ll find yourself with a God damn ring on your finger.”

He noticed how you laughed at that, and in truth, he was only half joking. He’d never found the idea of marriage appealing, but with you? He could imagine it. Imagine coming home to you every night, even when you’d both put thousands of miles between you and this hellhole. A home cooked meal on the table, ring glinting on your left hand as you welcomed him home with a kiss. Maybe even a few snot-nosed brats running around, if you both wanted it. Real domestic shit. He could see it, and he wanted it.

Before, his motives to crush Miranda under his boot was selfish. But now? Now, he was doing it for the both of you.

[demonicheadcanons]

Obey Me Undateables / Side Dishes and Little Affections

AN: The last post for the brothers was ridiculously popular and this was requested so! Here we go. Just little ways the undateables are affectionate to the MC. Romance-coded but not for Luke bc he’s baby. I did this on mobile so forgive me for any formatting issues, and for the lack of a read more!

As you may have seen, I struggled a lot with Solomon because I really view him as being indifferent. I’m sorry if his is a little underwhelming! I also wrote this differently from the last one because I forgot how I formatted it, sorry ;u;

.

Diavolo

- He’s busy all the time. Like truly, this man rarely gets a break, and even when he does, his mind is still tick-tick-ticking away. Crawl into his lap and hold his face in your hands and he’ll finally relax, you can see the clouds clear away from his eyes. He kisses your forehead and holds your face in return, shining again. It only takes a few moments for him to settle completely, to shut off all his worries.

- He really just,,, likes to pick you up? So long as you’re not absolutely terrified he’ll completely randomly walk up to you and lift you up and carry you around with him or just hold you there. Bonus points if you wrap your arms around his shoulders and / or bury your face into his neck. Extra bonus points if you kiss or nuzzle against his cheek. His grin is so wide and bright it could light up the whole Devildom. Additionally, if you run and jump at him he will drop everything to catch you, no matter what. He has not and will never fail to catch you, and it makes him laugh so hard you can feel it in the way his arms and chest shake as he holds you.

- He likes to lay down beside you and link pinkies. It’s so soft, such a delicate little thing, and yet you trust him enough to let him do that. The minimal contact makes it feel even more special to him, there’s no pressure there. You’re close and he has a reminder of your presence beside him and it’s enough, it’s enough.

- With Diavolo, if you decide to teach him cute human things, you might regret it later, because he remembers them all. You put your palm out once, telling him that he’s supposed to rest his chin there, and from then on he’ll do it immediately. He will also expect you to do it too, and his timing is completely random. You’ll be talking to Barbatos and he’ll hold his hand out and wait for you to rest your chin in it. When you do, he pokes at your cheek with his thumb and walks off again.

- Please play cute games with him. Farming games like Stardew Valley or things like Terraria and Minecraft, or the Sims, or anything like that. He also doesn’t mind matches on more competitive games, but he likes to relax and make a house or a farm with you, and his reactions to everything is adorable; you two make Sims and he cheers when they get married, and even if they’re not representing you two and are just random Sims, he jokes about how you should do that too someday. He’s amazing at games that are strategy based, but prefers to play anything else so he can relax and not think for a while.

.

Barbatos

- Random tickles. It’s completely unexpected and he is very sneaky - the first few times it’ll catch you heavily off guard, and even after that it’s hard to predict when you’ll feel his gloved hands brush against your sides. He’s an expert at guessing where someone is ticklish, and abuses that power when alone with the people he loves (namely you!)

- Food fights but on a small scale. He’ll walk past you in the kitchen and brush flour across your face, disguising it as him simply being affectionate as he passes by, a reminder that he cares about you and is thinking about you even as he works. His movements are graceful and confident as always, to the point where it’s actually quite hard to even realise what he’s done. He will consider telling you before you leave the kitchen. He really will consider it.

- Similarly, if his hands are wet, just before drying them off he’ll flick water in your direction and then act like he has no idea what you’re talking about when you ask if he just did that. Really, MC, why would he do that? He’s been so busy cooking, and you’re accusing him of doing something so childish?

- He quite likes just, holding you up and carrying you around but in a different way to Diavolo. Instead of Princess carries, it’s more like if you jump onto someone and wrap your legs around their waist and your arms around their shoulders? He loves carrying you around like that. Cling onto him! He’s not fond of having you cling to his back, but his sides or front is fine.

- Barbatos tends to keep an eye on you and it’s really hard to tell, but if you’re in the same room as him he’s keeping tabs on what you’re doing. You could swear he has eyes on the back of his head, because he always seems to know what you’re up to. In reality, he really just likes seeing how you look when you’re focused, or, alternatively, when you’re completely zoned out and off in space, thinking of something completely random and irrelevant to the current situation. He’ll come up and tap your forehead and smile at you when it looks like you’re back in the room again.

.

Solomon

- Solomon isn’t super affectionate and he’s not really an acts of kindness kind of guy. The most important thing for him is proximity; he doesn’t need you pressed up against his side all the time, but he likes having you in the same room as him as often as possible. You spend your evenings in his room in Purgatory Hall, laying or his bed or working at his desk, as he busies away with some new spell or writes down results of experiments with different potion ingredients. He doesn’t bother thinking too hard about it and just accepts it, but the reality is that it’s very calming and comforting for him. He’s also not someone who worries much about being judged or anything, so regularly having another person around doesn’t bother him.

- He asks for your input a lot. Simply put, he wants to hear you talk, and he’d love to know what makes you tick and how your brain works. “What do you think of this?” “How do you think Satan would react if...” and so on. So many ‘what if’ questions that it might make your head spin, because he’s always playing a game in his head of ‘what would happen if...’ despite rarely following through with it outside of experimenting with his magic and potions, and he wants to involve you in it too.

- Solomon doesn’t mind holding hands, and likes to play silly games when you are. Things like having thumb wars, or he’ll tangle his fingers up with yours and watch, amused, as you try and fail to pull your hand from his grip. Afterwards he’ll hold your hand with both of his and run his fingers and thumbs over it to soothe you. He also likes to just rest his hand on top of yours when you’re sitting beside each other.

- He’s going to try to be affectionate if it’s something you seem to want, and just out of curiosity. The one thing that sticks is that, if you’re cooking for him (because he’s not allowed to) he’ll wrap his arms around your waist and hug you from behind, his chin in your shoulder as he watches whatever you’re doing. He’ll blow air at the side of your face or at your fringe / bangs if you have them, so long as you’re not doing anything too dangerous and aren’t at risk of getting seriously injured.

- Bonus: If Solomon calls you and says “try this” or “drink some of this” don’t do it. Or at the very least, ask about any possible effects first. Moreso for food than for potions; he’ll find a way to reverse the potion, but the memory of eating his food will be stuck with you forever.

- Bonus bonus: Solomon loves giving you squishy hugs but he will squeeze you too tight and he will laugh even if he feels your spin click against his arms as you yelp. He won’t hurt you, but he will squeeze you hard enough that breathing will be difficult for a moment. You can tell from his smirk that he doesn’t feel guilty at all.

.

Simeon

- Simeon likes having you play with his hair. The way you twirl strands of hair between your fingers and try and fail to make a mess of his soft locks, which always return to their place no matter how hard you try to stop them. Bonus points for innocently wandering fingers that brush down the sides of his face, thumbs and fingers that ever so lightly brush along his cheekbones or around and under his jaw. He relaxes into your touch, eyes fluttering closed before he opens them just enough to smile at you, silent but oh so visibly delighted.

- If he knows it won’t make you sick and it’ll wipe off, he actually quite likes to draw on your hands and arms. He’ll let you do it in return, of course, but simple doodles and patterns, hearts and diamonds and sweet little reminders you’ll see later when you have to wash them off.

- Laying on your stomachs with your sides pressed together on a thin, soft blanket, knees bent and legs swinging in the air as you both read the same book. Simeon always finishes the pages first and so you take charge of just turning the pages, until he mumbles that he had lost focus - he’d been too busy watching your expressions, almost lulled to sleep by listening to your gentle breathing and wondering if you were enjoying the story and what your thoughts on it were, trying to piece it all together without disturbing you.

- You pass him at RAD or out in the Devildom and you don’t necessary stop, but he always waves, and god is it impossible to ignore how he lights up. His eyes gleam and he looks so, so happy just to see you and be reminded of your existence and if you’ve been unsure before about how truthful he’s being when he says he loves you and adores being around you, that look on his face will erase all your doubts. He’s beautiful and he’s glowing and it’s because he saw you!

.

Luke

- It’s an obvious one but baking together! Making cakes and decorating them. Letting stress out as you knead bread, experimenting with making different types of pastries. One time you make a batch of cupcakes and decorate them to look like dogs and he feels really sad when people eat them but he’s proud all the same, and he likes that he gets to feel proud around you.

- He acts like he’s indifferent, but he quite likes when you call him your brother. If you call him your little brother, he’ll protest because he’s hundreds of years older than you in reality, but he allows it after a while. So long as he can call you his big sibling in return, it’s worth it. If any of the brothers tease him over being the little brother, he remarks that at least you trust him and care for him so much as to call him your brother. None of them can really respond to that.

- Pat! Him! On! The! Head! Adjust his scarf! Fix his hat! He doesn’t understand why he enjoys it so much, but then Simeon points out that it probably makes him feel cared for, and that’s absolutely it. No teasing works or harsh gestures, just little acts that show you care about him or are thinking about him. It makes him feel so safe and happy.

- He always remembers things on your schedule for you, from little reminders that you might forget about to big important events. The only other person he does that for is Simeon, so it’s really a big deal for him - he shows enough interest to listen to you and remember all the little details you tell him, and then to reach out to you and make sure you remember or just to say he hopes you have a good time. If it’s something stressful, he might not message beforehand, but he’ll show up when it’s over with some treats and act like he just happened to be baking today and had some to spare.

Tag list: @katsukis-sad-angel

[tsukkiseasalt]

Eyes That Won’t Wonder

1

description: after the death of your former patient you are assigned to Mr. Wakatoshi, a quiet, handsome, older gentleman who quite frankly doesn’t know how to keep his hands to himself or his dick in his pants.

warning this story will contain: smut, smut & more smut. specifically breeding, anal, dirty talk, friends fucking, camboy bokuto, himbo bokuto, &so much more!

“Is this what you wanted, to be bent over in a filthy public bathroom and used as a human cum disposal?” He grunted into your ear, voice thick and full with lust.

This isn't what you had at all expected when you had gotten assigned to him, and in all honesty you didn’t even think you’d like him; nonetheless, you agreed with him. “Y-yes sir.”

 “Who would have ever thought the sweet girl that I met not even five months would be so fucking eager to get fucked and filled in such a place like this?” His words caused your head to spin. An array of struggled moans slipped past his thick fingers which he had shoved between your puffy red pout and down your throat which had previously been occupied by his cock. 

“It’s ok though doll, I’ve wanted this too.” He groaned, snapping his hips forward. 

His free hand that was knotted into your hair yanked you up and forced you to look in the mirror in front of you. You didn't even recognize yourself like this, but this is what you wanted after all right.

↺

The morning sun that filtered through the curtains danced on your cheeks while you scrolled aimlessly on your phone. 

“Hey, hey, hey.!.” You heard as the door opened revealing your bubbly bright eyed roommate. A small smile graced your face as he laid down beside you wrapping a thick arm around you. 

“Hey.” You said putting your phone down looking down at him.

“You ready for today?” He asked rubbing circles on your thighs, fingertips rough on your skin.

You shrugged as you watched him, “I guess so, it's been kinda hard since Washijō passed.”

Bokuoto’s usual smile turned into a slight frown as you mentioned your old patient turned friend. “He’s not suffering anymore.” He said quietly, trying to comfort you. 

“ I know, I just miss the old geezer sometimes.” You mumble letting your fingers glide through his two-toned locks. “But the report says that the new guy, Ushi-something, is only in his late 50’s.”

Bokuto now wore a puzzled expression on his face. “That’s not exactly old.”

“I know, but hey at least he’s not on his deathbed.” You say knocking on your wooden nightstand.

He laughed at the gesture and rolled off you. “It’s almost 7, so you should probably start getting ready if you're gonna be there by 7:30.” 

“I know but the bed is so comfortable.” You whined stretching out over the entirety of the space.

“I bet it won't be so comfortable after your in it everyday when you get fired for missing your first day back in three weeks.” He sassed hands on his hips. 

“Shouldn’t you be getting fucked in the ass or something?” You questioned whipping your head around to look at him.

He gasped and threw a shirt that was on the floor at you. “I do the fucking thank you very much!” He exclaimed dramatically as he sauntered out of your room.

“Tell that lie to someone who’s going to believe you miss butt-plug.” You yelled rolling off the bed and onto the floor with a thump. “Ow.”

“I hate you!” He screamed. “I’m getting a new roommate!”

“ Good luck finding someone who will disinfect your toys while you're at the gym.” You retaliate, digging through your dresser to find your scrubs.

“You did that out of your own free will.” He said, popping his head into your door throwing something at you. Your scrubs.

“Thanks love.” You smile.

“Still hate you.” He says crossing his arms in your doorway. You amble over to him and get on your tiptoes planting a wet kiss on his cheek. “Still hate me now.”

“Y-yes, what the fuck was that supposed to do?” He asked, wiping his cheek.

“I dunno, worked in highschool.” You shrugged, pulling your shirt off revealing your chest along with the rest of your unclothed body. 

“Getting naked won't work either.”

“Why? Am I not sexy anymore?” You fake pouted, pulling your bra on along with your top.

“No, still very sexy, I've just developed an immunity for it.” He said matter of factly. 

“Hmmm.” You mumbled pulling up your pants. “Guess i'll just have to find a new way to get you to love me.” You mumbled purposely grazing his cock as you pushed past him to get to the bathroom. “But if I do say so myself, it doesn't feel like you’ve developed an immunity. Felt hard as a rock to me.” 

“Hey hey hey, don’t get me all worked up just to leave for work.” He mumbled, reaching a long arm out to pull you to him by your waist. You could feel his breath against your lips as his skilled fingers worked into your waistband and started to knead your ass like it was bread dough.

“No no, you hate me, remember.” You say reaching around grabbing his hand and forcing him to stop. 

“I was just kidding bro, please don’t do this. I haven’t gotten to touch you in forever please mamas.” He pleaded, emphasizing the last word, seeing as to how he knew it was your weakness. 

“Don’t you have a boyfriend.” You mumbled tilting your head back ever so slightly so he could plant light kisses in all the places he knew you liked them most. 

“Open relationship.” He mumbled into your skin. “And kaashi specifically said i can have you whenever i pleased.”

“Oh really.” You moaned as he sucked on the flesh just beneath your earlobe.

“Yep, he actually wanted you to shoot a scene with us.” He groaned, grinding his length into your stomach. 

“Fuck, Bo, I’m gonna be late.” You moaned as he rubbed around your tight pucker before pushing past the tight muscles.

“No you're not, I can do this while you get ready.” He whispered lowly in your ear. 

“Fuck, fine.” You moan, hands grabbing at his hair. He lifts you and takes you to the bathroom placing you down in front of the sink. You moan as he pulls your pants down immediately falling to his knees, tongue darting out to lap your hole. “Oh my fuck.” You whine, grabbing your toothbrush. You have to really focus and resist the urge to spread your cheeks so he could have better access to you in order to put the toothpaste on the toothbrush.

“Yum.” He groans and brings his hands to spread you out almost as though he had read your mind. You shove your hips back further into his face as you brush your teeth, struggling to keep your head up. 

“Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do that for so long.” He says getting up and grabbing the bottle of lube off the counter. He squirts some on his fingers and massages it into your hole and pulls his sweats down to lather the remainder of it onto his cock. You spit as he pushes into you. Slowly but surely he thrusts into you, hands harshly gripping your ass. 

“Fuck.” You whine, hands gripping the edge of this sink as you struggle to keep you composure.

“That’s what I'm doing.” He mumbles wickedly in your ear. You cry out as he begins hitting your g-spot repeatedly. 

“Gunna, c-cum.” You manage your head falling onto the countertop. He speeds up his thrust and you can feel him begin to twitch in you motioning that he’s now chasing his own release. 

“Fuckkkk!” You exclaim legs quivering as you squirt all onto your bottoms and the floor beneath you. 

“Shit.” He groans slamming into you one final time before he pulls out and finishes on your ass.

You both huff as you catch your breath. 

“Dammit now I gotta change, and I still havent done my makeup.” You sigh pulling your head off the cool porcelain. 

“Here.” He says handing you a moist towel. “You clean yourself up and I'll go get your other scrubs.” 

You nod to him kinda as a silent thank you and then he disappears to get your other uniform. You step out of your drenched bottoms and pull your top over your head tossing them in the basket in the corner. You gently wipe the remaining lube from your ass and your juices from your legs before tossing the towel in the basket as well.

“Here.” He says handing you an identical uniform to the one you just took off. You hurriedly slide them on and rush back to your room to get your phone.

“Have you seen my bag…” You trail off as you see him standing with it in hand beside the door. 

“Thanks.”You say, grabbing it. “And do the laundry.”

“You can't ask nicely?” He huffs causing you to roll your eyes.

“Do the fucking laudry or ill shove that so far down your fucking throat itll come out of that pretty plump little behind of yours.” You say sweetly pointing at that large purple dildo sitting on the couch.

“You think my ass is plump huh?” He smirks, leaning against the door.

“Laundry.” You say sternly.

“Fine.” He mumbles now rolling his eyes. He opens the door allowing you out. 

“Be safe.” He waves as you open your car door.

“Kk, don’t burn the house down.” You wave back. 

“No promises.” He says smiling innocently before slamming the door. 

Shaking your head you get in and set off in the direction that the GPS instructs. 

“Nice, made it in time and with time to spare.” You mumble to yourself sliding your watch onto your wrist. You pulled up to the gate, typed in the numbers that were scribbled at the bottom of the paper, and thankfully it opened without a struggle. You slowly drove up the long driveway admiring the array of greenery that was along the path. 

“Goodness.” You gawked once you caught sight of the house. It was huge. “Who the hell even is this guy?” You mumble parking in front. You pull out the paper and scan over it. There isn’t much beside the fact that he had back surgery two years back. That was odd, he was only 59, and only had one major issue. Usually the company wouldn't even send someone out unless that patient was in their late 60’s and had major health issues- Washijō for example, he was 83, had two bum knees as well as a new hip. Compared to him this new guy- Ushijima Wakatoshi- was a spring chicken in your eyes.

Shrugging you grabbed your bag and headed for the front door, again admiring the beauty of the home. You grab the knocker and give it two big hits and wait. Moments later you hear the lock on the other side turning. The door opens revealing a handsome man with golden eyes, olive hair and a tall build. 

“You must be Mr. Wakatoshi’s son, I hope I'm not pronouncing that incorrectly, I’m his new home health aid” You smile, eyes wandering down to his bare chest. He’s almost in as great shape as Bo & he’s probably twice his age. You think to yourself, eyes glancing at his biceps before making eye contact with him again. 

He lets out a sound that resembles a cough and you realize that's his laugh. “You pronounced it just fine, and no, I’m Mr. Wakatoshi.” If not for the words you would have been drooling at the low rasp that was his voice.

“What, what!” You shriek.

i was really hornknee when i came up with this concept. lets see where it gets me :)

[gangrenados]

YOOOOOOOO THE HAIRY JASON = 🖤🖤🖤🖤

the man deserves some love tbh.

dc watch out cause i’m coming for u if u continue to keep him in captivity.

I must admit that I'm a little bit too much in love with this concept, like I never thought hairy men were that nice, but goddamn this kinda changed my mind lol AND YES Jason deserves so much love 😫😫

Anyway, I had this in my draft and decided to add the concept, well, I wrote this every time I was bored, so maybe it's not that great.

thanks to @imagines-fluff-yandere-smut for this great ass concept, girl keep up your horny thoughts, I love them 😤😤💕💕💕!!

Warning: Uh kinda smutty, a blowjob and a lot of slurs??

(L/n): your last name

You have no idea of how much I love that gif 👉🏽👈🏽

The soft sound of the tv echoing in the background alongside with the lulling murmuring of the city, were the only thing that was keeping in touch with the reality you were set on: living on a rather small apartment setted in the middle of one of the most tumoltous cities in the world.

Was it comfortable? surely not, but the company was greatly accepted. Besides this was just transient point in your life.

You stirred closer to your lover with a soft yawn, scaping from the cold that Gotham rainy nights always provided and being dealighted welcomed by a side hug of his right arm that quickly fell limp beside your shoulder.

You took the dare to rest your head on his chest, he didn't moved or said anything, staying in the same position with his arm behind his head as the other is around you, but with the slight difference that his lips were forming a little side smile.

Taking that small gesture as a green light, you kept going with your intrusion. You dragged your fingers  down town his torso, wandering through his abs before finally setting just above the hem of his boxers.

You caressed his skin softly, just the tender touch of your fingers before your nails ran up and down his skin, leaving a nice ticklish sensation all over Jason's body, to finally play gently in the hairs of his happy trail.

It didn't take long before your let your hand go lower, and between your innocent caress and the small talk of the show going on, you brushed his crotch lightly. However, that was more than enough to peek your boyfriend's attention.

"Are you trying to get me horny, doll?" his hoarse voice made you giggle. Trapped in the middle of you act and you couldn’t but offer a playful smile once you noticed those beautiful blue eyes looking down at you.

“Maybe...” you mumbled trying to appear innocent while your hands were still moving up and down his member in a gently, but firm maner. Jason arched his eyebrows, scoffing at your words. “Is it working?

You let out a yelp as Jason pulled you over him like nothing. It might soud crazy, but the way he stares at you makes your insides light up in pure fire as your heart speeds up for a moment.

So now your mind can only focus on the way his big hands were caressing your hips, daring to tugg at the waistband of your panties and to  run down those calloused fingers a little bit too close of your inner thighs.

Jason looks so beautilf underneath you and then his words makes you pay attention at what you had provoked.  "I think you gotta work harder."

Between kisses you moved to his neck, nibbling onto the soft skin and sucking lightly as you keep grinding  your ass on his clothed cock. Jason wanted more, you could sense this by the way his hands were pressing you against his pelvic, a way to prevent you to go elsewhere.

 Jason’s hips bucked against  yours, his hands still resting on your arse as he let his head fall down on his pillow. ”Is this enough?" You smiles against his skin, giving a small kiss with your swollen lips and Jason just nods.

"You won." His raspy voice sends shivers downs your spine." I have a boner and I would pretty much like to fuck you right now, congratulations!”

"Nice!" You say as you grab his face between your hands and give him a peck, Jason looks up to you with one of those heart melting smile he keeps for moments when your cuteness is about to give him a heart attack.

So you go down, giving short kisses across his abdomen and tracing his skin with your nails. As you reach his boxers you give a sweet kiss to his clothed cock and without taking your eyes off of Jason while tugging down those black boxes and he can't help but caress your head lovingly.

You spit on your hand quickly before you take his hard dick in your hand and start to pump him at a slow pace.

The contact makes him shiver and Jason mind is starts to fog the instant you take him in your mouth and you your tongue swirl around the shaft.

Jason pants as you bob your head up and down, sucking at his hard cock while your hand pump what you can't fit in your mouth.

His whimpers are music to your ears and seeing his face contorts in pleasure is making the coil in your belly tighten. It's nice to be able to have this view, but you're more focused on keeping up with the work.

"Fuck" Jason says as he sinks deeper in his pleasure. One of his hands goes to your head and grabs your hair, he doesn't move whatsoever. "Just like that! You're so good to me, babe."

Everything is going so nice, there's nothing better than receiving head after a hard week of work and Jason's state of mind is more than enough proof of this. The wet sounds mixed with Jason’s moans opaque the long forgotten sitcom that was still being played.

And moment like this make Gotham nights more berable, just the two of you enjoying each others bodies with the very welcoming bonus of being in love.

However, the euphoria is quickly cut off as the  annoying sound of the doorbell comes into scene; at first you don't stop and Jason is thankful because of it, but the person waiting at the other side of the apartment isn't as glad. The ring of the doorbell sounds acute in your ears, making the task of ignore it more difficult than you thought.

"(L/N) I am here, open up" the deep and annoying voice of your landlord fills the air and your groan in frustration.

The cold hits Jason's dick as you take him of off your mouth. "(Y/N), doll, don't leave me like this."

"Sorry, I forgot I called my landlord for the issue with the water." you say with a guilty smile, however,  seeing you kiss the tip of his cock doesn't make Jason feel any better.

"Are you busy, (y/n)? I can come another time" your landlord suggest and Jason flashes a grin.

"Problem resolved." He says a little bit too excited as he rest his weight down on his elbows. "Now where were we?"

"Jay no." you shook your head before getting up on your feet.

"He said he can come  later!"

"But that will mean another month carrying water buckets to take a shower! " Jason's mind pops up with an idea, but before he can say you cut him off." And no, I can't keep going to your house any time I have a problem, Jay!"

You can't help but giggle at his pouted lips, it's always a cute view seeing the so feared Red Hood whining over you. "You can! You know I don't have a problem with that." The way he talks so passionately falls flat once he notices that you're not going to back down.

"I didn't even got to show you how much I love you" Jason groans and just roll your eyes playfully at him. ” I want to fuck you until you’re scraming my name so the whole building will know who you belong to.”

"That reminds me that they're at the verge of causing a riot if they hear us again" you chuckle, putting aside Jason's attempts as reach up to him and leave a chaste kiss on his cheek.

"We will finish this as soon as the landlord goes. That's a promise " You wink at him before get of him to head towards the bathroom to brush your teeth quickly.

"Fucking cockblock" Jason ushes under his breath and you chuckle as you go to meet with the imapatient man at the other side of your apartment.

Tag list below the cut

Tag list: @burningclodwagonjudge @meany-marcelini @alice-fell-down-the-well @demondoxable @fluffyshrimpuwu @mad-grace-amber @screechingghostbananafarm @owl-witch-prompts @waroncheer @nervousfandom @c0-77 @astroherogirl @omgtheywereroommates98 @redarsenal @shadygoateeprincess @lovelyartemisa @missmaskedwriter @thegirlwholovesbooksblog @silverw19 @simpery @unknowntoanyone @ghost-bich @lucy-roo @adarksoul098 @magicisabluewish @kellieriddle96 @ashyvillain @panic-attheplace @greeknerd007 @honeydolly @perylinsus @cedrics-things @just-deka @malfoys-demigod @aterriblelangblr @hamdehlesmis @dreamxcollide @thirstiestpotato @magicalbeanie @letlly

[duskyskz]

50/50 - Chapter 1

Warnings - Toxic relationship, verbal/physical assault (NOT with main pairing), eventual smut but very very slow burn, boxer minho, trust issues reader, development on dom/sub dynamics, sex education to a degreedetailed tags to come with individual chapters.

After the final straw in your patience and self confidence leads you to moving in with your neighbour, you spend months unlearning bad habits and opening doors you shut yourself out from in your last relationship.

Word count: 5.5k

Minho watched as you picked up the corn cob, placing it gingerly in the basket on your arm, moving onto asparagus sprouts. How own hands are empty, not yet having decided on the groceries he craves that week. Instead he watches, from the irritated skin on your wrist to the focus of your eyes as you inspect potato bags in the next stall over. He’s just a neighbour from the same apartment complex, he’s seen you a handful of times at most before the current week yet since he started noticing your steps he can’t seem to stop.

You breathe out heavily, adjusting the basket on your forearm and he stills, frowning when you readjust the woven handle once more along your arm. There’s a coloured faintness there, and traces of fingerprints that make his stomach twist inside out uneasily. He knows your name, as of a few days ago. It looks like it aches. It’s still an urgent boundary to cross, what he’s about to suggest.

“You could stay the night with me, if you want. If that’d be easier.” He’s only a step behind you, having followed you quietly down most of the farmers’ market now. The sunhat he recognises you from by now bounces among the sea of hagglers on a wednesday morning. “I know fights in relationships can be rough, so if you need a place to crash for the night, my couch is free.”

You wish you could tell him how much you cannot possibly do that, but Minho’s offer is so innocent and well-intended you don’t have the heart to outright decline. “Thank you, Minho, but we’re fine. I’ll be alright.”

He doesn’t need to read into your smile to understand the rejection, trying not to let it phase him at the implication you’d be going home again that night. He knew better than to ask if you needed help carrying your bags after the first time he’d offered and your knuckles turned white.

“Alright. But you know my flat number if, right? If something happens.”

“If something happens.” You promise, and leave him with a nagging sense of discomfort as your dress fades into the morning crowds.

***

You don’t think of doing it as you enter the concrete building block and pass the elevator to the staircase. It would be too inappropriate, too out of the question to even consider. A night at another person’s house? At another man’s house, even more so! No way would you consider breaking a rule like that. You couldn’t step out of line like that. Yet as you passed the third floor, one you now knew held the possibility of the unexplored, you hesitated for a moment.

No, surely it wouldn’t be worth the scolding you’d get after. Would you even be able to sit still for an hour, without twitching? The handprint shaped bruise on your wrist still aches dully with the weight of the food basket as you open the door to your shared apartment two floors higher. You no longer notice the relief that sags your shoulders when you realise the house is empty apart from your own presence. You take in the respite of silence while unpacking the vegetables, trimming the corn cob for stir fry later in the evening. It's followed by bamboo shoots and chicken breast, which you’ve just about got simmering when the front door clicks open.

You hear him before you see him, taking as long as you can to plate the food before turning to face the man you shared a home with. He doesn’t return it, eyes glossing over you to inspect the dinner plate you slide before him.

“You know I prefer rice noodles.” He tuts out, frowning. His feet come up to rest on the other chair, but you weren’t going to sit at the table anyway, opting to linger by the counter. “And beef, your chicken sucks.”

He chews loudly, groaning as if to make sure you’re aware of your culinary inadequacy, but his face never lifts from the plate. He wasn’t wrong, really. Your cooking was barely edible enough to provide nutrition and you didn’t know how to make it better.

He keeps talking still, even as his pointer finger comes in contact with your forehead to accentuate his point with a harsh poke that makes you lean backwards against the counter top.

You don’t apologize. It’s better to not make any noise, you’ve come to learn, keeping your head toward the floor and body still and you’re almost impressed with yourself when the plate is thrown into the sink by you with a piercing clatter, not caring if the porcelain splits

The food is half eaten, but you don’t comment on the waste either. You’ll eat alone later, but the mess makes your exhaustion rear its head again when you think of cleaning it.

You know it’s no longer love that stops your words in your throat. The fluttering in your heart froze up into apprehension first, then fear and indifference. The physical alterations hurt, but they were only skin deep. They only lasted a few days, and once the ache faded you wondered if you felt the pain at all. The verbal attacks, that made your head hurt more. But you stopped talking back, because then they stopped faster.

The door slams again, rattling the walls loud enough to make a point of your boyfriend’s absence and shining light on all your failures as a partner. He wouldn’t be back tonight, or maybe even the night after that. You let your knees turn to cotton, slumping to cold kitchen tile. You don’t clean up the noodles in the sink. You’re not hungry enough to eat your own portion.

In a burst of conflicting emotion, you feel yourself stand and head to your bedroom. Maybe it’s the tiredness that made a home in your bones, maybe it’s the stress rattling them every time you’re in his presence, watching your step and calculating his every action before it happens. Maybe it’s the lack of all of that when you push your partner from your mind and let your heart betray you for a second to think of softer brown eyes instead, living in the flat two floors below you. It’s some twisted amalgamation of it all, probably, that makes you pluck your mascara from the bathroom, alongside a toothbrush and (on second thought, in case of emergencies) minimal changes of clothing into your backpack. You haven’t had use for it in a few months, not having gone further than the main streets of your own town in that time. It still fits enough for a weekend trip, and the weight of it hangs on you heavier than the clothing you packed would allow.

Would you really do it?

Minho could be mad at you for changing your mind, and maybe you couldn’t take that. You’ve developed a defence mechanism for one person, but could you for another so quickly? If his voice raised at you, you’re sure you’d cry on the spot like you used to the first few times in this house, too. But maybe you wouldn’t have to, maybe he wouldn’t even be home after you’d rejected his offer. He had no reason to be home, so you’re just going to check and confirm there really is no chance and no hope of you escaping this hellhole, that’s it. Your hopes would be rightfully crushed and you’d return with your tail between your legs, clean up after dinner, and head to bed like the fool you are.

Locking the door after you, as your housemate didn’t bother to, you trudge down two flights of stairs to the last door down the corridor, marked with a cat-paw print welcome mat and burgundy painted door. You knock twice with shaky fingers, and the sound is so light you wonder if he’d have heard you even if he was home at this late hour.

“Jisung, I said not tonight!” There came a shuffling from the other side of the door, and you were seized with fear of facing the other possibility - that Minho was no longer considering you’d come by, as you told him you wouldn’t, and he’s going to yell at you for ruining his night. The thoughts lurched forward at you as his footsteps grew louder, pounding in your head so loud your eyes blurred so instantly you couldn’t focus on the door opening and Minho’s silhouette against his low living room light.

“Y/n?” His response comes stalled too, letting a beat of silence pass between you as no words left you. He wasn’t shouting yet, so you took the chance to apologize as quickly as you could before the situation worsened. Your limits were thin tonight.

“I’m sorry, I know I said I wouldn’t come and that’s really stupid, I’m sorry.” Your thumb dug into the strap of your backpack at your feet. “It’s really late so I’m sorry if I woke you -”

“No, it’s okay.” Minho protests before you can word your final ‘sorry’, moving aside to reveal the rest of his hallway. “I wasn’t asleep yet. Come in.”

And that’s it. You expected more, to be honest. Some kind of questioning at least, scrutiny at your visual (and mental) state.

You don’t enter right away, thoughts wooshed out of your head. You don’t even think if he’d scold you for leaving the door open so long, but Minho just waits in the hallway, giving you space to cross the threshold of his home when you’re ready, watching as your expression blanks once the door closes behind you and he has to ask if you need help for you to take off your shoes and break out of the thought train. You hang your coat among his, after asking if he’s okay with that, and doing the same for your shoes. You hold your bag close, resting it on your lap as you sit down on your neighbors couch.

Minho looks the same as he did this morning, grey hoodie and equally nondescript jeans with a pale wash ending just below his ankles. He hangs around the hallway a few meters away from you, and you can tell he’s thinking about what to say before he voices his thoughts.

“Did something happen?” You hadn’t expected him to be so direct. You didn't consider this scenario beforehand, so you couldn’t answer instantly. “You said you’d come then. If something happened.”

“I’m not sure.” You decide to answer truthfully, though he may be unhappy with the vagueness of the statement. “Nothing out of the ordinary happened tonight, so…” You let the sentence trail off, but he knows the implication.

So I’m not sure why I came.

“That’s fine. Nothing has to happen for you to visit a friend.” Minho accepts your hesitance easily, and you’re instantly grateful for his keen senses. “It is late, so I’m not sure if you ate yet?” You shake your head. “I have some lunch leftovers I was going to heat up if that’s okay with you, though.”

Lee Minho was a glorious cook. Michelin level, you’d go so far to say, had you ever been to a Michelin star restaurant in your life, but you were convinced he’d qualify. Turns out his leftovers consisted of seared steak, grilled vegetables and an assortment of flavoured rice balls, which he served you with cucumber salad you saw him purchase at the market earlier that day. This was more elaborate than any meal you’d attempted to cook in your life, and you’d tell him so were you not so occupied devouring it. Minho didn’t think you noticed him glancing at you across the table, but the amazement in your eyes filled his heart entirely. He’s seen you look content, happy even on days he’d catch you by the vegetable stalls and spark conversation despite your brisk pace.

After he’d washed up, insisting you remain seated (which filled you with visible unease, to both his amusement and greater concern) you were forced to address the trickiest part of the night. You’ve had sleepovers before, but never with a boy. Never as an adult.

Stunning you for the second time that evening, Minho seemed to harbour no such fears.

“You can sleep in my room if you’d like, and I’ll move to the couch for tonight; but if you’re not comfortable with that, I’ll bring some blankets out for you into the living room.” The ease with which he approached the subject settled into your own head, and you nodded at his suggestions.

“I’d like to sleep here, please.” You pat the couch you’ve gravitated to after eating, quickly becoming the centerpoint of the apartment to you. Minho leaves for the few minutes it takes him to prepare a fresh duvet and pillow cover and you take the moment of isolation to break through the dam of thoughts clawing at your brain since arriving an hour ago. You weren’t sure if the time went by rapidly or dragged on. You only let yourself take in minimal information about the situation - taste of the food, the colour of his kitchen tile, the fabric of his clothing and softness of his living room rug. Small, manageable pieces of the greater dilemma you didn’t want to give attention to yet.

Midnight air mingles with your sigh as you lean back on your hands and tilt your head toward the window. Minho kept his curtains open for a glimmer of the nightlife. There wasn't much to see from the 3rd floor, but yellow light still flickers over rooftops and storefronts.Your musings are cut short when a mountain of bed covers drops beside you, delicately placed at the opposite end of the sofa. He must have switched off the other house lights on his way back, letting only the shy orange lamp illuminate his profile.

“The bathroom is on the left in the hallway, and my room is at the end of it, the last door to your right.” You note his directions in your head, nodding to show you’re listening. “Alright, I - I’ll let you sleep.”

“Goodnight, Minho. Thank you.”

He lingers by the doorway, balancing from one foot to another with an unfocused gaze. You don’t budge as he watches you, though he doesn’t seem to realise he’s staring at your feet, then your hands and face until your eyes meet halfway.

“I’m glad you came here. It’s good that you’re here.”

You don’t know how to reply to that statement, so you don’t say anything, and Minho leaves you with another soft goodnight and a flood of anxious thoughts.

***

Night fell rapidly, so much that when you switched off the remaining lights and laid to sleep. You were so stressed it made your head hurt, but the emotional toll made exhaustion greater, and you fell asleep within an instant. Minho’s duvets were plush, so big and fluffy you couldn’t see your own hand when you pressed down on the sheets. As you faded in and out of coherency throughout the night, a weight appeared by your feet. Too tired to be alarmed, you opened your eyes only when the warm pillow stood up, patting its way over to your stomach. It purrs against your cheek, whiskers tickling your nose as you blink back at it. It’s not surprising Minho has a cat - you’d picked up feline mannerisms in his behaviour before. It was endearing, now seeing the same slow blink in the eyes of the creature responsible for his habits.

It nudges its little head into your raised palm, rubbing against your hand. You give into the request happily scratching behind its ears, urging it to lay down next to you so you both could go back to sleep. The cat’s long body gives you something to focus on, easing the remnants of nerves from your brain.

***

You wake up more rested than you had been in weeks, despite pressure cramping your shoulder from the small couch you’d slept on. The living room is warmed by morning sunlight, though you’re not sure what time it is yet. You have no missed calls, and just one message from a student confirming the time of your session today. Creaks resound when you stretch, straightening out your bones from the night . The cat is nowhere in sight, but Minho must already be awake by the sounds coming from the adjacent room and you’re struck with embarrassment that he may have seen you sleeping. He would have walked right past the room, and since no door stood in the wide archway, he probably saw you drool right onto his pillowcase.

You consider sneaking out right then, grabbing your possessions and darting out the hallway, but you couldn’t leave without thanking him for letting you escape yesterday and for feeding you.

“Oh, hello.” The cause of your inner turmoil dips his head through the doorway, wiping his hands on a dishcloth. “How did you sleep?”

“Good, thank you.” Your knees bump against each other as you sit, patting down your hair. Minho looks well rested too, though his own hair isn’t combed yet and he’s not dressed to leave the house. Grey shorts this time with a plain white shirt hang off him, and he looks perfectly at home like that, humming a greeting at the floor when the cat you’d nestled into last night curls around his feet. White and ginger patches cover it’s fur, it’s belly a pure cotton shade as it rolls onto its back at your feet.

“You already met Soonie, right?” He laughs, pointing at your sweater, and belatedly you realise light-coloured cat hair clings to every inch of the fabric at your front.

“He came in to sleep here last night.” You pick at the frizzy hair to no avail. “I’m sorry if it got on your duvets, though…”

“It’s fine, my bedroom is covered in hair no matter how much I brush them out.” He joins you on the sofa next to the bundled bedsheets, placing the cat gently on his lap. Soonie makes himself content atop his legs, white paws dangling from the side. “I made breakfast for when you’re ready, and if you need to shower - I’ll grab you some towels.”

A shower did sound good, so you accepted his offer eager to strip from the clothes you slept in. Sweat was already making your sweater cling to your skin, and the cat hair combed through the fibers wasn’t doing the itching any favours. Not wanting to use up too much of his hot water, you rinsed yourself in record time. You packed your toothbrush, but not any shampoo, so you skipped out on washing your hair - taking Minho’s shower gel would be too much. You didn't want to go too far in his hospitality, and now he even cooked for you twice.

How could you repay that?

How were you supposed to make that worth his time?

You turned off the water then, not wanting to let your thoughts make you stall in the hot stream. You skipped out on wearing your sweater again, clothing yourself in the vest you had underneath and the pair of jeans you had last night. Feeling lighter now that the grime of sleep was washed from your skin, you looked around Minho’s bathroom before exiting. It was plain for sure, but accents of his personality lingered in the kitty paw-print of the shower mat, mint-scented shower gel and matching shampoo-conditioner set.

You’d never dwelled on whether Minho was a 3-in-1 shampoo user or not, but the knowledge he had dedicated creams and gels for each job reassured something inside you. It suited him. Yet the knowledge felt intimate, as if seeing the brand responsible for his mint and tea tree scent was encroaching on a level you weren’t supposed to know about as his neighbour.

You stood just beside the kitchen entrance, watching Minho set different dishes around the table top. Every flat inside your complex had similar layouts, so you were already familiar with the structure of his home. Still you watched, accidentally memorising the cupboard he stored his cups and cutlery.

“You can sit down, you don’t need to wait.” You faced his back, but he must have felt eyes burning on him. You sat down quickly, considering his words. Minho didn’t seem to mind a lot of things. It was unusual, being made aware of just how much instruction you relied on in unfamiliar settings.

And Minho smiles so much. It sets all your self preservation nerves on edge, analysing for underlying motive in his movement and sentences. You could clean his house if he asked, and replace the ingredients he used for your food. That would be the least you could do, and you’d settled on going about it as soon as he left for work - if he would leave. You had no idea what he did with his life apart from keeping you company on morning grocery hunts. But he was just so darn polite! He asked if you wanted any hot sauce, offered to butter your toast, even cleaned your dishes for you (again) that you had no idea what he could expect in return.

“Hey,” He calls over from the sink, “Give me a list of things you like so I can plan dinner later.”

“Why would you need that?” You still, glancing away from his mug collection.

“I only know you like courgette and hate leeks,” Wiping his hands on his jeans, he leans against the cupboards looking at you intensely. “And...you will be here for dinner, right?”

Would you be here that long? You weren’t expecting to. You’d go back two floors above and clean up the spilled noodles from last night, as your partner would have not, regardless of whether he’d returned home or was still out doing his mystery business. Minho frowns when you don’t answer, crossing his arms as you bow your head. You don’t want to anger him now, but how could you stay here any longer?

“Why would you want to go back there? It’s bad for you to be around that.” You know that, both at surface level and deeper - but how were you supposed to disappear? Sourness spread through your bones when you unearthed the feeling. You’re really scared - and you have been scared for years, but you never considered the feeling as such because opportunity never presented itself to escape. To admit you had to escape from something would be to admit you feared it, that you had been hurtt. You don’t know if you’re ready for that process.

“I don’t have anywhere else I can be, I still have things at that house, I can’t just leave.”

“You can.” Minho contradicts you immediately. His voice is level, gentle and coaxing, even though a strong resolve trembles in it. “You can stay with me as long as you want to. You don’t have to pay rent or anything, since I don't have a spare room but you can take my bed or stay on the couch if you like. Stay here for a few days, just - to feel better. It’ll make you feel better.”

He’s come to sit across from you, enough to give you space but enough for you to see worry lines around his eyes as he speaks. “I’ll give you space if you need it, just let me know if I can make things easier for you.”

“I’ll have to go grab a few of my things, I only got bare essentials yesterday.” Minho perks up right away, as if no tension hunched in his shoulders just seconds prior. It’s not as hard to agree as you thought it would be. You’re terrified, yes, of a step you know won’t end here. But you’re also more rested than you’ve been in so long, and the strain of all the stress become routine for the past years that you’re willing to grasp any straw at breaking the cycle. And Minho was nice. Everything you’d read between the lines of his actions was kind.

“Okay. Let me give you my number so we can talk while I’m not here, and you know - if anything happens, call me.”

You did go to fetch more of your things, after reassuring Minho it would be best if you went alone. If someone else was home, you could pass off your absence as work-related - it would be harder to explain why you weren’t alone.

His presence would just cause issues, and he eventually agreed to leave you on your own after you promised you had his number saved. You would also pay rent, but about ⅓ of it - on his insistence you got no proper room but a living room couch, and at your insistence you’d be using his utilities and house space. Your neighbour - housemate?- had to leave to do his own occupations, but assured you he’d be back within a few hours to help you.

You thanked him again for everything before he left saying you’d send him a list of your favourite food when you were done packing, and you set about your own tasks. He’d left the house keys with you, making the point of you more likely to be home before him.

They weighed heavy in your hand, the implications of the trust in his gesture more than the object itself.

You didn’t have a lot to move, but the transfer still takes you a few trips up and down concrete staircase. The majority of your haul is books, your own towels and toiletries. You’d have to perform an impromptu closet clearout, quickly deciding which old pieces to keep and which were better left in the past. Since Minho’s flat was similar, but inhabited one person only, his furniture would be cast to contain belongings of one. Working from home meant you were spared the task of office clothing or showy pieces, so all you had to part with was a few aged sweaters. You grab your laptop, a selection of favourite cups and plates so you don't have to borrow Minho’s all the time - though was it really borrowing if you would share the house?

You hurry as much as you can, but it still takes three trips up and down to completely transfer all traces of your life to the flat below. By the time you’re done, you decide to clean the small apartament to make organisation easier. It’s rapid work when you focus and separate Minho’s laundry without thinking about it. Darks, lights, and the sparse touch of coloured denims among his closet. Then you hoover, and by the time you finish hanging up the damp clothing on the balcony, it’s a while past lunchtime.

The turning of a lock swipes tension over your shoulders before you recognise Minho in the hallway, shuffling off his running shoes and hoodie. You meet him halfway, wiping your hands on your jeans to rid the laundry moisture.

“Hi,” His skin is flushed as if he’d been running, sweat sticking to the baby hair around his forehead when he smiles to greet you. Minho looks worn out, shoulders pulled high and taught. His breathing is laboured as he walks into the house, and only when he passes the threshold does he release the air in his lungs to slump in one of the barstools. “Did you get your things?”

“I don’t have a lot, so it only took a few trips.” You nod, following him to the kitchen. “I put most of them in the living room for now, though…”

“That's fine, we can go through the drawers and make space for you after we eat.” He reassured you, seeing you tug on your sleeves. “You didn’t send me a list of things you like to eat, so I got things I remember you buying instead.” His voice lilts into a pout as he looks at you, lips jutting into a pout before reaching into the bags he brought.

A strange feeling climbs higher and higher up your throat with every item he stacks on the counter and you wonder how much he actually spent on just foods you like. It grows stronger when you recognise your coffee brand, the cookies you got last week as he bumped into you that morning. A selection of fruits you used in a cake you gifted him last month, and sundries to fill the cupboards with.

“I can’t cook.”

Minho looks up at your confession, pausing from arranging the food.

“I mean, my cooking is edible at best.” You elaborate, looking away from his face to his hands as you lamely explain. “I could never, uh, make it taste good.”

“I’ll cook then.” Minho nods, shelving the sauce jars. Your eyebrows pull together and he must have noticed your hesitance, turning on his heel towards you. “Or I can teach you, slowly.”

“You can help me cook, and I’ll show you how to season different foods. We’ll start with things you like, so you already know how they’re supposed to taste. Then we can go from there.”

You want to ask if he’s sure, if it’s not a bother to have you around while he works to have someone hover around him needing assistance, but you do want to learn - If your food could taste half as heavenly as Minho’s cooking did, you’d be content. So you agree and he cheers at you, excitement contagious. And before you know it’s coming, there’s a surge in your heart at the sight of him again that makes grinning back at him a thoughtless action.

Cooking with Minho is more eventful than you expected.

When you watched him before, he navigated the kitchen with a practiced ease that made your awkward stumbles all the more prominent.

“Where do you keep knives?” He hands you a small knife, it’s green handle foreign in your palm.

“My hands keep slipping…” You fumble with the peeled onion as Minho tends the rice, tipping in a spoonful of white wine. The sting makes your eyes water, hazing your vision of the offending white bulb.

“You need to hold it with your other hand so it stays still, like a claw.” His hair was still damp, but now the moisture was from the shower he took before starting your lesson rather than sweat. You could recognise the mint scent in his shampoo and how it spilled over to his clothing, and no matter how reasonably awful it should have smelled mixed with raw onion you were cutting and the steam of boiling rice, you couldn’t get enough of the sensation. Minho acts open around you, treating you like a friend he’s known for years rather than an acquaintance from the farmer’s market. Only a day passed since you entered his home yet you felt so seen in his eyes. You must have been testing his patience not being able to cut a straight carrot slice without his help, but he never raised his voice above a patient hum. Sure, he did laugh a few times when your cucumber sticks came out triangles rather than evenly cut stips, but even his humour came without bite. His laughter was never at your expense, and it was kindling your heart alight at an alarming speed.

Minho (and his flat) became comfortable to you rapidly, and in the passing days your interactions all came more naturally than the last. Minho would leave around noon and come home just after 7pm, looking like he ran a marathon while you’d finish up your studies and the few zoom tutorials you teach for extra income. Despite his initial apprehension, he was grateful you took on cleaning duties so easily - he still insisted on doing the dusting and cleaning his bedroom himself, but it made you feel better to have some kind of input into house upkeep when you couldn’t contribute in many other ways. In the mornings he’d pass by the living room and you try your ebay to already be awake to spare yourself the embarrassment of Minho seeing you drool in your sleep, and in the evenings you cook together. Minho insists on increasingly difficult recipes, and you try to keep up despite recurring failures.

Five days into your coexistence, Minho is late.

Of course, you’ve only been part of his schedule for a week, but his arrival never differed by more than a few minutes - the gym he worked at was just a few blocks down the road. Tonight you wait with your phone in hand as 8pm rolls around, thumbs hovering over the call button. He did tell you to call him in case anything happens, but did that go both ways? If something happened to him, would he let you know too?

You knew he would not.

You weren’t nearly as reliable in that department, and it’s not like you could do much else than call emergency services - something he would surely do himself if he could call you in the first place. You can’t quite bring yourself to sit on the couch, leaning against the doorway to the living room with your eyes on the front door so intently you almost forget to blink by the time the handle starts to turn.

The unlocking click echoes in the silence you’ve sat in for the past hour and you shoot up, straightening your posture when the door finally gives way.

“Min?”

A/N: Sorry this is a day late, I was exhausted yesterday when I got home so had to delay it a little bit but now we're started! As you can tell this will be an incredibly slow burn, but I hope you enjoy the ride and see the development grow because I promise the deeper build up is worth the wait.

Tags: @healinghyunjin @lizsvcks @glitteryskzstraykidsdream (can't tag for some reason;;) @changbinscypher @spilledtee @linours

[bloodycassian]

reader x azriel - prompt: 

What about Azriel angst & fluff with this prompt - “I was only trying to hide my feelings. I thought…if i was an asshole to you, it would help me get over you,”  “Why did you think that would work?”

Sorry this took so long to get to anon! 

He coughed up something wet into his palm, his eyes unable to focus. The alley outside of Ritas was awash with vomit, piss, booze and other fluids he dared not think about. He lurched over and added to the mix.  You found him perched atop the roof vent to Ritas, covered in his own blood and reeking of vomit. You covered your nose dramatically, then felt bad once Azriel gave you that icy stare that made enemies turn and run. He looked like shit.  "Az, come on. I'll get you home." You tried reaching out to him but he slapped your hand away. He said nothing, just rubbed his eyes and sighed. "Go back to your Illyrian brothels." He slurred. His shadows slinked around him slowly, as if they felt the stupor the alcohol brought as well. You rolled your eyes.  "Alright, let's get you up." You reached around him and got him to his feet. He flipped you off before stumbling off the balcony and flapping his wings a bit too late. His toes caught the next roof over. You ran a hand through your hair, debating if you should follow him or not. Rhys would kill you if anything happened to his Spymaster, to your trainer on your watch. You swore under your breath and took off to catch up with him. "You may be the worst spy I've ever heard." He laughed, rolling to his back in the long grass that he decided was a good spot. If you hadn't heard him grumbling to himself you doubted you'd have been able to find him. In the darkness, even with the full moon, he was impossible to see in the night. The shadows shouded him like a blanket.  "I'm not trying to spy right now, I'm trying to keep a drunk Illyrian safe." You said from the rock beside him. You perched there, watching the trees and grass sway in the moonlight. He stood, his wings compensating for his swaying. He would have been on his face if he didnt have them for counterbalance. And if he were human, likely dead with the amount of alcohol in his system.  He scoffed and muttered something unintelligible. Then he was yelling, "I'm your trainer, you listen to me." The wind seemed to carry the words away with them. You ignored him as best you could. The wind picked up, making goosebumps rise on your arms. "I'm the reason Rhys picked you out of all those other bastards at that camp." He pointed at you, and you lost it.  You stood, fighting the hot tears that pricked your eyes. "Fuck you Az, I'm trying to help you." Before he could say anything else to upset you, you took off. Flying high above him. The wind cooled your warm cheeks and you let out a long breath.  When you landed again, he was snoring. You closed your eyes, willing them to not burn if he said anything else. You wondered how you would proceed with training if he was going to act like this never happened. Your heart sank with each passing breath as you tried to rouse him.  He woke only long enough to let you glide him to the rooftop of the townhome. You made him tea on a fire and left, unable to bear seeing him so fallen apart. + You tried not to cry the next morning when you showed up for training. On time, not a second late. Of course, he wasn't there. You feared that he had gone back to Ritas, but he was smarter than to do that. The bar owner would have brought Rhys down to handle him himself.  You brought your bag of extra clothes with you to the town home where he sat just like the night before, staring at the fire. Tin cans of tea lay all around, as if he had been up for hours. He didn't acknowledge you when you landed. Doused with firey anger, you tossed your bag to the ground.  "Just what the hell did I do to make you hate me so much?" You said, voice getting higher as you strained to hold back the tears. The stupid tears you never wanted to let him see.  The rooftop was empty besides the small fire you had made the night before, and the warm canisters of tea that he nursed. The blanket around him made him seem small. The black tunic ruffled around him even smaller. It make your belly rage, knowing that he had acted like such an absolute asshole the night before to wake up looking stupidly innocent.  Those cold eyes met yours, and for once they showed him. The real him, the agony that lay behind them. You felt your heart squeeze. "I never- I didnt mean..." He ran a hand through his hair, tossling it. He took a long breath and held it as long as he could. The burning pain welcome to fight against the anguish in his soul at the sight of hurting you. He let out a long breath when he couldn't hold it any longer. The early morning fog made his it come out like mist, his shadows mixing with it. "I'm sorry." His voice was gavely, he wouldnt' look at you.  "I tried so much." He smirked, a bitter laugh coming through his teeth. You felt the rage run cold at the stark resentment he held on. "I tried every damned thing I could think of to stay away." He shook his head. He casually threw the tin can of tea into the fire pit.  "What are you saying?" You asked tentatively. Your heart drummed in your ears so loudly you weren't sure you could hear him if he answered.  He stood, slowly. Fixed his tunic and held a hand out to you cordially. You eyed it, then him. Wondering if it was a test. He gave you a look and you took it, letting him lead you to the edge of the rooftop that overlooked the city. He gestured to the downtown area where you had followed him from Ritas the night before.  "I was trying to... break myself of you. I was being a total asshole, I agree. But I-" He grumbled to himself slightly, fumbling for words like you'd never seen the spymaster do. "I'm trying to stop being...so attached to you. You..."  "Azriel, you're still drunk...Let's go-" You began, pulling him away from the edge of the rooftop. If he hit his head while you weren't watching last night he could have major issues already. The way his words made your heart leap and soar was an unexpected response. You had eyed him more than other males, yes. But he acted as if he had no desire for you whatsoever in the years you'd known him.  He squeezed your hand and let it go, as if saying goodbye. "You are like...air to me. You're addictive in a way. I don't know what to do about it." The way he looked at you solidified your belief of him in an instant. Those hazel eyes looking into yours with a warmth you'd never seen before. Your heart squeezed, stomach flipping.  You knew your mouth was open in astonishment. But you couldnt pull your thoughts together enough to comprehend if the moment was real or not. You stammered. "I- Azriel..." you tried your best but just ended up taking his hand back in yours.  "You can tell me to fuck off, I dont know if that's going to do anything though." He tried to pull his hand from yours. The siphons on the back of his hands were dully glowing.  You couldn't think of anything besides his soft lips on yours. The way he would believe you if you kissed him. The guilt that roiled there on his face. You hated it. The moment he was pained caused you pain as well, and it was a deep hurt that left you aching. So you fixed it. You kissed him. On the rooftop, in the cold fog with alcohol and tea on your breath. "Being an asshole to me wont make me go away, Az. That'll never work." you winked, resting your forehead on his. His eyes were blown wide in surprise. He hooked a finger under your chin and kissed you feverishly.  "Maybe I should be an asshole to you more then." He laughed when he pulled away, still not letting go of you though. "Definitely not, but-" He laughed loud and it made your heart sing. 

[1994sunflower]

mikey buying y/n lingerie, or like dragging her to victoria secret and like picking stuff out for her.

in which michael buys you lingerie

You were so used to the routine of classes, campus, Michael’s house, your apartment. To go out of it always gave you a fuzzy feeling just because you weren’t used to it. But you loved what it brought you. Every time you went shopping off campus or just exploring the city. Being right beside Michael, your hand in his. It made you feel proud. To know everyone that looked at you two knew that he had chosen you.  

The mall, especially. When there were so many distractions, ones that always got you as you tugged him every which way you were interested. His focus was always on you, letting you drag him to any store you wanted even if it clashed so obviously with his personality. He took it with no complaints. It made you feel so special.

Michael even carried your bags for you, not caring how mismatched it would look to anyone who cared to see such a tall, daunting man carrying small little bags with the girliest, frilliest stores the mall had to offer labeled on them. It felt like, even with the two of you surrounded by so many things and people, you were still in your own world. 

You followed behind him, your hands in his, whenever he trailed into his own interests, slowly as if trying to pretend he didn’t really care. Watched as he lost himself in looking at video games, music, shirts that depicted some scenes that made you wonder how it was legal to be on fabric. 

He even enjoyed teasing you, trying to lead you into stores which stopped you straight in your tracks and you watched the amused grin on his face as he took in your embarrassed blush. So wholesome. At least in public. He was sure what he made you do on a daily basis was worse than any sex toys those very adult stores could hold inside. 

But he simply wrapped his arm around your shoulder and led you away, almost cockily at bringing out your shyness. He always seemed a lot calmer, freer out in public whenever you were off campus. But still stoic and intimidating, at least you assumed that’s why people seemed to always stare at you and make room for you two to move by. 

Your eyes were trailing up to the second floor above you, already thinking of what stores you wanted to see or if you preferred to go to the food court instead. So lost in your thoughts you didn’t realize Michael had stopped moving and you had gone a few steps ahead until his immobile arm tugged you back. Glancing back at him in confusion just to find him staring to the side and you didn’t understand why until your eyes followed his gaze.

The lingerie store did its best to not look raunchy as stereotypes would have it seem. It was well lit, its prettiest pieces on display. But either way, your cheeks heated up as soon as you eyes raked over them and noticed Michael��s doing the same. You weren’t sure you even wanted to know just what exactly was going on in his mind. It was the only reason the store even caught his attention, you knew, because his mind was swimming with you.

You didn’t really use lingerie at all, not that you needed to. With Michael it wouldn’t last more than a few seconds on your body, on a good day it’d likely end up ripped on the floor. But looking at them, you couldn’t deny how pretty they were. You thought of how they would make you look, especially how Michael would react to them on you. The confidence boost would be spectacular.

Perhaps you looked for a little longer than you intended, gazing at the mannequins deep in thought. Because before you knew it, Michael was closer to you. His chest to your back and leaning down enough to whisper, “Want to go in?”

You looked up at him in embarrassed surprise. Your mouth hung open but nothing but stutters left. You were too shy to go in there by yourself, knowing how helplessly lost and inexperienced you would seem, let alone go in there with Michael.

Shaking your head was no use because he was already tugging you by your hand.

“M-Mic…Michael…I-I think-”

It was all you could do to stutter out his name to try to get his attention before you finally entered the store completely. And the eyes of the workers on you made you look up at Michael for support. You knew you looked really different from your boyfriend, but in that store, it felt even more obvious that he was so much more experienced and you were sure others doubted how he could be satisfied with you.

But his eyes should have been their answer. He was satisfied only by you. His eyes never left your figure, an excitement in them only because of you and how he imagined you would look in all those hot pieces. 

Which is probably what gave you the calm and confidence to move on your own, keeping your arms wrapped around his bicep, keeping him close as you moved around the room looking at the different pieces. From the most modest to the flimsiest. 

You didn’t touch anything, even your newfound curiosity couldn’t make you do that. But you were drawn to the prettiest outfits, in your mind. The one with more lace than anything else, in the prettiest pastel colors. Normally, imagining yourself in them would feel mismatched, but having Michael with you, his arm around your waist and tracing circled on your hip, your mind took you to just how weak you would render your intimidating boyfriend. It sent a thrill to you, knowing the power you had.

Michael, for his part, was just watching you. His eyes intense and his jaw set as he went over whatever fantasies he had each time you approached a set you liked. Especially when you finally picked one up. 

“Do you like this one?” It was a blue one piece, which despite that, left little to the imagination. It hard cut outs on the top of the breasts and the curve of your sides. But the lace detailing was beautiful and you were sure it would be able to cup you in all the right places. Especially for Michael’s enjoyment. You wanted nothing more.

And despite Michael being silent when he nodded, you knew he agreed to your silent judgement of it. If not by the darkening of his eyes than the way he held you just a bit closer as you continued looking, with it in your arms. But then he pointed at the same piece just in black.

“This one.” He picked. 

Maybe it was the exhilaration at seeing that you were actually receptive to buying things from there, it wasn’t something he had just dragged you into anymore. You were taking the initiative to not only look but buy. But he started being a lot more ‘helpful.’

The way he picked up any fabric was almost laughable. Like a hormonal teenage boy seeing a girl’s intimates for the first time. As if he wasn’t known around campus for his skills in the bedroom. As if he didn’t do the dirtiest things to you in bed.

It was kind of cute, the way he would tell you he liked something without ever saying it. 

“You like it, right?” The panties were such a pretty color you couldn’t disagree. Especially with the small little ribbon that for him, was just going to be begging to be undone when on you. The straps would hug the top and side of your hips. 

Even if you were doubtful of whether or not it was crotchless. Particularly with the mischievous smirk he couldn’t contain when you nodded shyly, this time you being the one that was speechless. But your suspicions were confirmed the moment he didn’t even let you reach out and take it from his hands. It was the only thing you weren’t carrying. He always did like easy access.

Then it was garter straps that would connect to thigh highs that you wouldn’t have ever had even the courage to even pick up, let alone try on when it was so different from your personality. But the sight of them had you biting your lip and agreeing nonetheless.

Or then it was baby doll top with the completely lace and see through design. That despite it’s openness, you were drawn to equally as he was. It was just so cute and dainty. Just like you. It was perfect. 

Especially when he held it up to show it to you and when your eyes lit up at the sight, he put it up against you making you titter nervously and snatch it out of his hands. Glancing around to make sure no one had seen just exactly what your boyfriend was so excited for. He was like a kid in a candy store.

But nothing could have prepared you for the way he stopped dead in his tracks in front of one set hung up. 

You weren’t paying attention at first, but even if you were, you wouldn’t have been able to grab a hold of it. It was too far up. But he reached up without an issue with a concentration that was out of character for him.

By the time you turned around, he was already staring at you. The hanger was in his hands as he held it up slightly to show you. It was ridiculous that the only time he ever seemed interested in anything was in this situation.

“This one too.” He wasn’t even asking, he was picking it out for you. And it didn’t take a genius to see why he liked this one specifically, more than anything else he had chosen out for you.

It was pure white. Which is probably what caught his attention in the first place. The color always drove him crazy on you. Such an unblemished color, symbolizing innocence. Which is what you represented, what he took and tainted.

The bra was small, you weren’t sure it would cover even half of your breasts but that may have been the point. The small bow connecting the two cups being the only really design. The bottom was a skirt but it was barely the width of five fingers, useless at covering anything. But again, that was likely the point. It was frilly, making it look much like a maid’s skirt. With small little ruffles at the top and bottom of the skirt. The same frills and ruffles were on the arm bands. Even on the lacy choker that came with it.

It was at once so cute, wholesome looking and the filthiest thing you had seen since you entered the store. The only thing it wasn’t was proper.

You would look so pure, like a doll. Fragile and weak. He could just imagine you, sitting on your knees on his bed. Looking up at him with your big doe eyes. Your singsong voice calling him to you, begging for him. Looking every bit the pieces of the virginal angel you used to be mixed with the dirty little slut for him you now are. 

How he would completely eclipse you, how the dark of his tattoos would clash so violently with the white of the fabric. How wrong it would look to anyone else to see him, covered in ink with filthy words and depictions on the entirety of his upper body, on top of you dressed like that. His large build covering you completely, making you seem even more vulnerable with that flimsy set on. Seeing you submit to him looking that innocent, visibly showing what you’ve always been. Letting him do the filthiest things that shouldn’t be done with looking that chaste and virtuous. 

Fuck. He didn’t think he could ever take this one off of you, even when he would be plowing into you. He’d have to keep it on your body as he stared down at you. Even with how flimsy the tiny little bra was, as if tempting him to rip it off of you.

Maybe going into the store was a bad idea. He could feel himself getting hard and he knew you would not appreciate him trying anything this much in public. But he couldn’t help himself. Just one look at the displays at the window, he could only think of you. How cute you would look, how hot. It hadn’t even been meant to be anything inherently sexual. He was never really the type to be wanting you to wear more clothes when he was trying to fuck you.

But the further you went in, the shy, almost nervous, look in your eye, he couldn’t help his thoughts straying. His good girl. 

Especially when his gaze fell pieces that he couldn’t help but imagine adorning your body under him. That would just accentuate what he liked most about you, that fits your sweet personality while at the same time hitting at the dirty girl only he ever saw. Those thoughts were multiplied tenfold at the sight of the last lingerie set he had grabbed without a second thought. It was like it was made for you, for his girl. It would be all for him. Only his eyes would ever see you in it.

And he may die when he finally sees it on you. But he’d die a happy man. Nothing would ever satisfy him like you did, he was sure. He could practically hear your whimpering moans, your tiny hands clinging to him as the only thing on your wrecked body was the frilly outfit, the choker would look beautiful on your neck as your mouth was open, tongue out front he pleasure.

Good thing he didn’t have to worry about how he was going to deal even a few more minutes looking at any more outfits, especially with his mind still stuck on the one in his hands. 

Because you looped around arm through his, “Okay.” You giggled, the blush still on your cheek. “I think that’s enough here, Mikey.”

And he let you lead him away from the temptations that was the merchandise easily.

The cashier was pretty. She didn’t do much to stop her surprise as she glanced between you. You wondered if it was the height difference that she was referring too, as you fiddled with your fingers, or the way Michael daunted above both you and her. The way he was covered head to toe in black, chains on his jeans and wrists, tattoos littering his neck and arms. Looking very much comfortable, if not happily dazed, in a store like this. And you, lithe and meek at his side, probably appearing like an anxious little virgin.

If only she knew.

Maybe the pieces she was ringing up would give her a clue. Or the way Michael couldn’t keep his hands off of you. Despite the way you looked like you could break when in his arms.

He bought it all. You didn’t even get the chance to offer your own card before he was already entering his pin. He picked everything out after all. It was a gift for both of you.

Michael even let you carry the striped bag, declaring to the world very obviously just what exactly you two had walked together in the store to buy. You held it with both hands, wanting very much to bury your face in his chest in modesty. 

But he was gleaming proudly, showing off to anyone who cared to watch, especially the men ogling the small girl at his side, that anything they were fantasizing about, he very easily already made reality or would. And the proof was in the medium sized bag in your hands. Everything you would let him see and experience of you, let him do to you. He felt like the luckiest man in the world. 

“Let’s go home, baby girl.” His voice was soft at your ear and his hands squeezed your hips. 

You were sure ‘home’ was going to consist of the rest of the hours of the day being spent on the contents of the bag, what he had picked out and bought for you. Being displayed right in front of him for his enjoyment. And he’d get to help you break them in, bask in your sweet nervousness and submission dressed like the pure yet dirty girl you were.

So, who were you to do anything but nod and let him lead you out of the suddenly crowded mall. 

[thero0ks]

Hey I was wondering if I could request a NSFW Miche x Reader where the reader is wearing slightly revealing clothing to impress him?? Loving your work!!

Thank you so much for the request! I enjoyed writing this. Hopefully this is what you had in mind :D DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18

SMUT AHEAD!!

               Revealing Light (Miche X Reader) NSFW!

Silk clung to every curve of her body. Emerald eyes were locked on her frame in the low candlelight. While she glanced over the menu, Miche took her in. Breathtaking was the first word that came to mind. When he saw her pull the black slip dress from the rack he hadn’t expected it to cling to her body in that way. Not bothering to even try it on he handed over his card, no questions asked. 

As the silk slipped over her body, she lifted her (dark/light) locks for him to tie the straps in the back, and the breath left his body as he watched the dress cling to her body. His hands dropped trailing over her hip. “This dress looks amazing,” he murmured. Mesmerized at her figure on display.

“You look beautiful.” 

Praises kept falling from his lips as he took her in. From every angle the dress looked perfect. Shapely legs on display, the curve of her ass was enticing, and the hem of her dress was just long enough to tease the imagination. Something inside him begged him to ask her to stay home for the evening, but she looked so excited for the date he’d promised. He’d surprised her a couple days ago with reservations to one of the nicest restaurants in town. 

Pretty silk she’d put on just for him, even though she looked divine in whatever she wore. Pride welled inside of him at the amount of effort she put in just for him. Strappy heels made her stand a little taller, but she still looked tiny in comparison to him. All he wanted to do was sit her on the edge of the table and have his meal immediately, but she deserved to be treated like a queen for the effort she’d put in for him. 

Leaning forward she pulled his attention back to her eyes. “I think that guy passing by was staring,” she commented, before eyes flickered back to the menu as she sat back in her chair. Miche raised his brows. It was very rare that his wife pointed out when men looked her way. Usually she was completely oblivious to the looks she always seemed to draw. Eyes only for him. Oblivious to the stares she drew, because she was always fussing over him. 

“Who?” Miche inquired, and saw the small blush cross her cheeks. 

“He’s sitting a couple tables behind you, dark hair, and a beard.” 

“Do you want me to go say something?” he teased, only to hear a sweet laugh fall from her lips. Shaking her head the waitress came over, and inquired about drinks. 

“Champagne,” she said, pulling out her ID to hand to the waitress. Miche had been with her since high school, and at thirty-five she hardly looked over twenty. She’d aged well, and he’d be lying if he didn’t consider himself a lucky man. 

Miche ordered a whiskey, and the waitress didn’t bother to check his ID. Disappearing to get their drinks. Setting the menu aside she turned her attention back to his broad frame. Miche took in the perfect expanse of her skin that the thin dress straps displayed. He had no regrets purchasing the dress. Settling into conversation the waitress set their drinks down, and he watched Y/N pull out her phone to snap a quick photo of the fizzing liquid. 

Fried Calamari was set down, and he watched her eagerly dig in. Somehow she always knew the best dishes to order, and he found himself ordering the exact same thing she did. Sipping the champagne she enjoyed the bubbles that popped on her tongue, as the smooth liquid slid down her throat.

Even after eighteen years together they had no issues connecting. Their relationship was as natural as breathing. Miche felt like he was counting down the seconds to the check. Eager to rip the dress off her, and see the figure that it covered. Never would he tire of seeing her beautiful curves. 

As soon as the waitress brought the check over, Miche was slipping her his card. Getting up from the table he watched her drop her purse, several glasses of champagne had made her a little tipsy. Miche knew exactly what to expect as soon as he got home. Small hands would be traveling the plain of his body, dirty words falling from her pouty lips, and she would be pulling him into bed by his tie. 

Opening her car door she slid in, and he closed her car door with care. Starting the car the dash lights framed her silhouette. When they were on the freeway he felt a small hand slide up his thighs, and he raised a brow glancing over at her. She wore a wickedly innocent expression, and he knew exactly what her intentions were as she reached for his belt buckle. 

“Shit!” He said glancing down, at her popping open his button. 

“Eyes on the road, or I’ll stop.” 

Miche swallowed thickly. Dominant was another trait she tended to take on when she had a few drinks. Typically she’d make him lay there and use him in whatever way she wanted. It was hot, and he didn’t mind relinquishing control on the occasion when she promised that she wanted to make him feel good. He was already hard when she slipped him free of his underwear. Perfectly manicured hand giving him a few slow strokes. White knuckling the steering wheel at the new sensation. 

When her tongue darted out to taste him, his right hand automatically buried itself in her hair. Sitting a little deeper in the seat he tried to focus on the road as she sucked in the tip of his dick. He bit his lip as he felt her tongue swirl around his head teasing him. Drawing out the pleasure he’d always wondered how she knew exactly what he needed whenever she sucked him off. Bobbing her head had him speeding down the freeway, and he didn’t realize he was going ninety, until she took him deep and had him glancing down. Eyes caught the speedometer, and he moved his foot to apply the brakes, lest he get pulled over with his dick out. Miche took the exit home, and stopped at a light. Licking his lips as a vehicle pulled up next to him at the stop light. He knew it was too dark for anyone to see inside the vehicle, especially with the black window tint. Taking a moment to look down at her lips wrapped around his cock set him over the edge, and he found himself cumming into her mouth. 

Swallowing everything he had to give her, she wiped at her perfect lips with her thumb. The bitter taste still lingering in her mouth. Miche pulled her to him, smashing his lips against her’s and he kissed her hungrily. Selfless, so selfless in the way she was happy to give him pleasure and expect nothing in return. A horn from behind pulled them from their kiss, as Miche remembered they were still in a vehicle stopped at a now green light. He took off, eager to get home and return the pleasure she’d just give him.

As soon as they were out of the car Miche’s hands were caressing her sides. Fingers fumbled with the keys as she tried to unlock the front door. Miche’s large hand covered hers helping her with the key, as his lips remained on her neck. Not caring what the neighbors saw. As soon as the door was open he had her pressed against the wall as his long arm locked the deadbolt. His thigh was wedged between her legs, and he could feel her slowly grating against him as his whiskers tickled her neck.Groping her through the silk she was soft in all the right places.

Lifting her up, she soon had her legs wrapped around his waist and her back was pressed into the wall. Closer to his height now so he wouldn’t have to bend down he pulled her into a deep kiss. Pushing his tongue into her mouth he could taste the bittersweetness from the champagne and his own release. Large hands kneaded her ass, as his tongue slid across hers. Dainty fingers tangled in his hair. Thick golden locks felt like fine silk against her fingertips as she gently tugged on them. A soft groan vibrated from his chest as the sensation, as he drug his lips across her neck. Tilting her head to the side to give him better access to her slender neck. 

Carrying her into the bedroom, her back met their plush mattress. After her little surprise in the car, he was eager to take care of her pleasure. All she would have to do is lay back against the pillows, and let him treat her like the divine being she was. Unclasping the strappy five inch heel he let the shoe fall to the ground, clattering against the hardwood floor. Kissing up her calf, the skin was smooth against his lips, and the soft scent of her lotion was fragrant as he inhaled. Removing her other heel he continued the same ministrations before he helped her up. Nimble fingers reaching back to untie the dress, letting silk pool at her feet. The opened back dress did not allow for a bra, and Miche reached out to caress one of her breasts. Nipples already hard from the cool air, and her obvious arousal. 

Shuttering at his touch, the nipple he thumbed was sensitive. It was one of the things he loved about her. The way she’d wither against him as he sucked on her breasts, desperate to grind against him to relieve some of the pressure pooling in her core. The panties were red silk, and barely covered her soaking cunt. 

Miche lifted her once again, placing her against the pillows, as he removed his button up. Heady eyes watched him from her spot on the bed. “You look divine,” he commented, pulling off his shirt to reveal a toned chest. “I’m going to worship you tonight,” he said reaching between her legs to rub against her clothed clit. A soft “mmnn” escaped her lips as he leaned over to suck her nipple into his mouth. Fingers immediately buried into his hair as she threw her head back in pleasure. Smirking against her breast, he swirled his tongue around her nipple soliciting sweet wimpers. He continued swirling his tongue, and occasionally giving the hard bud a soft tug with his lips, until he had her grinding against his hand.  

“Let me do it baby. You sit back and let me take care of you,” Miche said, peeling the now soaked fabric from her body. Settling between her legs, he wrapped his arms under her thighs, and pulled her closer to his face. Inhaling her intoxicating scent, he nipped along her inner thighs, enjoying the way her muscles quivered at the contact. 

Lowering his mouth onto her clit, she felt her heartbeat in anticipation of the new sensation. Pleasure spread throughout her body as he swirled his tongue. Gripping his hair, and arching her back she let her eyes close to enjoy the sensation of his mouth on her. Slipping a finger into her he slowly worked her open soliciting a soft gasp. 

Warmth filled her limbs as Miche kept up a steady pace on her clit. The finger that teased her entrance eventually turned into two, and a feeling of fullness had her grinding into his fingers. When he hooked his fingers to rub that spongy spot inside her she was seeing stars. The pressure building in her core was too much, but not enough. The wet squelching of her juices coating his fingers filled the room. Lapping at her cum, Miche felt her walls tighten around his fingers. On the edge of an orgasm he kept up the same rhythm, and soon felt her walls fluttering around his fingers. Heady eyes flickered up to watch her come undone on his fingers and tongue. Her head was thrown back, and her back had a perfect arch as her fingers tugged at his hair. 

Releasing her thighs, he watched the blissful look cross her features. Looking up at him through a hazy fucked out gaze he thought she looked like a masterpiece. Ridding himself of the rest of his clothing he settled between her thighs. 

“Your body is perfect,” he hummed, running his fingers down the plains of her body. 

Innocent eyes gazed up at him. “It is?”

Miche nodded, as he reached over to his bedside table to pull out a condom. “You have no idea what your body does to me,” Miche said, tearing at the condom wrapper with his teeth. 

Rolling the rubber over his dick, he checked the small air pocket at the end to make sure there were no leaks before pulling her closer to him by her thighs. Her back slid against the comforter as her ass came into contact with his warm thighs. Spreading her legs to accommodate his size, he lifted her hips slightly off the mattress by her thighs to give him a better angle to enter her in. Slipping the head of his cock through her folds pupils blew wide watching her squirm eager to take him. 

“So eager for my cock princess?” Miche growled, a smirk appearing on his lips. 

“Miche, please.” She whimpered, fingers gripping the comforter desperate to be filled.

“You know I love it when you beg,” Miche said lowly. 

Pressing the tip to her entrance he slowly slipped inside. Heady eyes focusing on his cock sinking into her inch by inch. “You always take me so good baby,” Miche murmured. Hypnotized by the way her pussy gripped around him. A small sigh escaped his lips when he finally bottomed out. 

“So big,” it came out as a moan. Her hand slipping down to her stomach to feel her abs contorting around him to accommodate for his size. Delicate features looked angelic under him, and she always looked so small. Calloused fingertips covered hers, feeling the bulge in her stomach. 

Automatically Miche started to rock his hips, eager to feel himself filling her with each thrust. Soft whimpers encouraged him, as he licked his thumb before drawing small circles around her sensitive bundle of nerves. The hand that wasn’t on her stomach gripped his forearm, digging crescent shaped marks into his skin. Pleasure lit up her body as she felt her second orgasm for the evening build. The coil wound tighter, causing her toes to curl as she braced herself for the coil to snap. “I’m close,” she whined, desperate to reach her peak. 

“Cum for me baby. I want to feel you,” Miche purred. That was all it took for the coil to snap, and her orgasm wracked her body. Miche watched her brows furrow, as she squeezed her eyes closed. The pleasure was too much for her to handle, her nails dug into his forearm, as her other hand slightly curved around the bulge in her tummy.  

“Fuck, you’re pussy is like a vice,” Miche groaned, his own orgasm hitting him. Her cunt gripped him so tightly he couldn’t move. His other hand caught him as he slouched over her as her orgasm slowly subsided, and her grip on him lessened. Soon her walls were gently fluttering around him. Aftershocks of her orgasm. 

Panting, he looked up at her euphoric gaze. Perfectly content her thighs opened wider as her muscles relaxed. Pressing a kiss to her lips he pulled out, disappearing into the bathroom to discard the condom. 

(H/C) spilled over the pillows, and Miche noticed she’d crawled under the covers while he was in the restroom. Climbing into bed he pulled her onto his chest. Her cheek pressed against him, as she listened to his heartbeat. 

“Did you like the dress?” She asked softly.

Miche ran his fingertips across her skin. “You looked divine in that dress. I could hardly keep my hands off you.” 

Humming in response to his answer she let her eyes flutter closed. Focusing on the soft beating of his heart she found herself drifting off. His skin was warm, and his arms safe. Miche pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, and she soon felt the heavy feeling of sleep take over.

[writer-ish]

I love your fics so much! The Mason ones are utterly amazing 🤩

As for my ask: the touching prompts and Mason can you do 37+50?

prompt: putting their head on the other’s chest / putting a hand over the other’s mouth to shut them up pairing: mason x detective (grace bennett) word count: 1.5k | rating: T (language) author note: you are so sweet. ☺️ thank you sm and thanks for the prompt love! hope you enjoy. 

☾☾ touching prompts

*

It wasn't that the meetings were boring, per se.

Consolidation after a patrol was a necessity in Grace's eyes. It wasn’t like they all walked through the same streets and alleys together, arms linked, the five of them patrolling in tandem. Nate usually went one way, Adam another. Felix would decide who he wanted to join or if he felt like taking his own route.

And that would leave her and Mason.

She tried, once, to tell him that she didn't need him to patrol with her. They'd cover more ground separately, of course. That much seemed obvious. And before Unit Bravo had arrived, she had been made detective of their small town's police force, which had to count for something—had to speak to some level of ability; of skill.

But the absolutely withering look he gave her upon that suggestion shut down any further discussion on the matter.

Plus, and here was the real problem, the crux of the issue—the truth was, if she were being honest with herself... she liked having him on patrol with her.

It felt like a betrayal of her sex to admit that she felt—safer with him around. But for all her capabilities (admittedly most of which were intellectual and not so much physical or combat-oriented), the idea of having someone to patrol with, a protector, was—

Well, it was nice.

Of course she would never, ever admit that out loud. She could barely admit it in the sanctity of her thoughts.

But ever since life had changed for her in Wayhaven, and supernatural occurrences had become the norm, and her life had been put in danger (more than once), it seemed, at the very least, prudent of her to have the extra support wherever available.

And anyway, they were partners. If not in anything else, they were partners for the Agency. And the patrol - they did that together.

Which brought Grace back to the present moment.

The meeting.

Every time the unit patrolled, they would meet together briefly afterwards to discuss anything unusual they had seen, offer up any suggestions for future patrols, or coordinate routes or sites that may be more fruitful or beneficial in the future. There was always a plan, an ultimate goal, and each member of Unit Bravo, including their human liaison, wanted to ensure that their patrols were as efficient as possible.

Which was all well and good, fantastic really, except for one small thing.

Grace was fucking exhausted.

Months of working for the Agency, of patrolling with UB and then waking up a few hours later and doing her other job, her “real” job, for a seemingly endless amount of time, only to come home and cat nap and then do it all over again—it was taking its toll.

The vampires were fine, because of course they were; they were fucking vampires. Sleep was a suggestion. A novelty. A lark.

But Grace was tired.

At this particular post-patrol gathering, she had tried exceptionally hard to focus. Adam said they were going to keep it short, but it had already been twenty minutes and he was still going over a detour in his route that he felt would be beneficial.

Mason sat beside her on the arm of the chair she was sitting in, a high-backed, extra plush thing, that was somehow incredibly conducive to sleep and also horribly uncomfortable.

He was flicking his lighter open and closed as he listened and she lightly tapped his thigh with the back of her hand to get him to stop, feeling her eyelids grow heavier with each passing second.

He looked down at her and took a second to absorb her expression, before looking over sharply at Adam and barking:

“Hey, how about we wrap this shit up—?”

His words were unceremoniously cut off by Grace’s hand over his mouth.

She felt the sharp intake of breath he took as he glanced at her in surprise, eyes narrowed and nostrils flaring.

Sheepishly she took her hand off his mouth and said softly, “No, I’m fine.” She then turned to Adam, who looked puzzled, and glanced briefly at Nate who seemed concerned and Felix, who was clearly amused. “It’s fine, Adam, continue please.”

Adam looked at her assessingly, before giving a brief nod and continuing. “As I was saying, if we veer northwest here and go around the park...”

Grace settled back in the chair and looked up to catch Mason still staring at her, narrow and intent.

What? she mouthed.

He pointed at her and then closed his eyes and lolled his head to the side, an exaggerated tableau of sleep.

She bit her lip to keep from giggling and shook her head, re-focusing on Adam.

Within seconds, her focus was cut short once more as she felt Mason drop down from the arm of the chair and wriggle in the seat beside her. They barely fit side by side, so she had to make room for his leg under hers as he squirmed his way closer to her.

Felix was watching them now, giddy with his amusement. Nate kept glancing over and looking away quickly. Adam was tracing a line on the map of Wayhaven in their common room and hadn’t seen the mute commotion just yet.

Soon, Grace was situated, essentially on Mason’s lap much to her chagrin, her head tucked into the admittedly very comfortable nook where his pectorals met his deltoids. He brought his hand up to toy with her hair lightly and he was so warm, so comfortable—just an unbearably pleasant extension of that safety and familiarity she felt with him when they were patrolling together.

She could feel his heart beat, a steady gentle thud under her ear. Could smell him, his unscented laundry detergent, and something else—something masculine and sweet, earthy and smoky and just intrinsically him—that scent that had already infiltrated her pillow and her top sheet and her favourite jacket—

That feeling, imbued with his scent, and with the gentle pressure of his hand that had moved from her hair down to her thigh, was like a sedative for her soul.

Of their own volition, drawn by a power she could no more easily control than she could the setting of the sun or the moon rising, her eyelids drooped down, down, down until her eyelashes brushed her cheeks.

Within seconds, her breathing evened out and soft snores filled the room.

Adam paused and turned away from the map to take in the new and unusual noise.

Mason watched with hooded eyes, daring him to make a comment. To say a word about their position or - he felt his canines tingle, a rumble deep in his throat - to try and wake her.

Instead, Adam looked resigned. Regretful, almost.

“She is tired,” he said simply as he regarded her.

Felix and Nate looked over as well, various iterations of affection and sympathy over their faces.

“We forget, sometimes,” he continued, crossing his muscular arms over his broad chest, “that she is a human among us. She does not have the stamina we do.”

“She works hard,” Mason couldn’t help but say, deliberately keeping his voice soft. “She works herself to the bone for this town. These ingrates,” he ended on a semi-snarl. “And then does it all again at night for the Agency.”

“She enjoys her work,” Nate responded pragmatically. “Though she could probably benefit from more rest time.”

“There is too much going on right now for rest.” Adam stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Though, I suppose, it’s alright if she rests for the moment.”

“Plus, I wouldn’t move her from Mason’s lap right now unless you want your head torn from your body,” Felix cackled, leaning back gleefully in his chair.

Mason shot him a stare that could wither a cactus and Felix bit his lip, still hiding a smile.

“Do you want to continue, Adam?” Nate asked. “Or should we call it a night?”

Adam looked thoughtful. “As long as she is comfortable, let’s finish up. Mason can fill her in later.”

“Oh, I’ll be happy to fill her—shh, shh shut up!” he cut his own vulgarity off with a hiss as Nate loudly groaned and Felix’s cackles unleashed themselves further. He glared at everyone. “I’ll tell her what you said,” he muttered finally, nodding towards Adam. “Let’s just get this over with.”

As Adam droned on, Mason couldn’t help but look down at the detective, her soft snores and steady heartbeat a familiar litany to his ears these days. He felt the soft firmness of her thigh under his splayed fingers. Felt the rush of air on his chest as she breathed in and out. Watched her rosy lips pout in sleep, the crescent of her dark eyelashes on a lightly freckled cheek, a light brown strand of hair flopping over one closed eye.

Her hand had come up to rest under her chin, fingers loosely curled. Absently, he brushed the hair back from her forehead and then, again without giving much thought to it, he brought his pointer finger up to stroke the soft inside of her palm gently. Her fingers jerked reflexively and closed, holding him there securely.

He felt a tug come from somewhere deep in his chest at the sight of her holding his finger like that. It felt so trusting, so innocent, this simple unconscious gesture. As though, even in sleep she wanted to keep him close.

Shaking his head abruptly to rid himself of the intrusive and unexpected thought, he renewed his focus on Adam—no, Nate, who was now talking.

He left his hand in hers, though.

*

tags: @utterlyinevitable , @ethansramsey , @otherworldlypresents , @aworldoffandoms , @raleighcarrera , @ejunkiet , @starrystarrytrouble , @terrm9 , @openheartthot , @octobereighth , @campsearchlight , @coldshrugs , @kelseaaa , @homeformyheart , @intothestrawberryjar , @magebastard , @kodysteach , @newfangledsoul , @silma-words , @lalizah , @detective-sweetheart , @lem-20 (if you don’t want to be tagged for twc, mason x detective, and/or prompts, please let me know!)

[flameo-firelord-hotman]

Flames & Feelings — Zuko x GN!Reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

Words: 1.6k

Summary: Zuko struggles to control his firebending whenever you’re around.

A/N: the idea for this came from the very first episode of ATLA, when Katara's frustration at Sokka caused the ice around her to crack. Emotions play a part in bending, but we really only saw anger in the show. What about love? Also, apologies in advance, I am so bad at figuring out how to end my fics 😅

Masterlist

Skich. Skich. Skich.

After finding those spark rocks in the market, Sokka insisted that he use them to start the campfire. Unfortunately, he was having no luck. He scraped and scratched them together, but the sparks they produced were pathetic.

Zuko sighed and dropped his head. Watching the non-bender try to do something that he could do instantly was aggravating. “Sokka, just let me—”

“No, no, I can do this!”

Everyone let out a groan.

“What’s all the fuss?” You asked, walking over to the group.

Skich. Fwoom!

“See, I told you guys I could do it! Now look who’s the firebender,” Sokka said proudly. Indeed, small flames had erupted from the wood pile.

“It’s about time! I can finally start cooking dinner,” Katara grumbled, not holding back her frustration. “Somebody hide those spark rocks from him, so he doesn’t do this again!”

“No! I bought them, they’re mine!” Sokka cried as he clutched the rocks to his chest. You giggled and shook your head at them, taking a seat next to Zuko.

As the water tribe siblings continued to bicker, Zuko tried to relax himself. That fire wasn’t started by Sokka; it was him. Whenever you were around, he seemed to lose control of his firebending.

He couldn’t help it; he really liked you. You were kind, funny, smart, strong, beautiful, and the list went on. Being with you made him excited. It also made him nervous.

What if [y/n] doesn’t like me back?

Zuko was all too familiar with rejection—his father banished him, his mother abandoned him, his sister hated him, and he was sure his uncle did too—but still, he was deeply afraid of it. At 16 years old, he finally started to make real friends. There was absolutely no way Zuko would risk ruining the friendship he so treasured with you.

And so, he kept his crush a secret...

...but his firebending did not.

Zuko didn’t know how long this problem had persisted for, but it had to have been a while. The first time he noticed it was when you stopped by to watch him practice firebending. Feeling pressured to impress you, he lost control of his flames and almost lit a nearby bush on fire.

Another time, Zuko was meditating in his tent. He always lit candles when doing so to help him focus. Hearing that sweet, bubbly laughter of yours outside made his heart skip a beat, causing the thin flames to rapidly grow taller. Fortunately, he caught them in time before his tent set on fire.

And now, just sitting next to you at the campfire made him anxious, which caused the flames to reach a little higher, making him more anxious, which made the issue worse. It was like he was trapped in a continuous cycle of anxiety. The only thing we could do was slow his breathing, steady his heart rate and calm his mind, while hoping no one would notice.

“Zuko?...Zuuuuko?”

“Huh?” Zuko snapped out of his thoughts.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Okay...well I was just asking you how your day was.”

“Oh. Uh, also fine.”

As much as he wanted to talk to you, Zuko knew he couldn’t. Talking would make his situation worse. So he gave you short responses and hoped you would get the hint. However, that only made you worried about him.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You seem, I don’t know, distant lately,” you said with concern.

“Yeah, just fine,” he gave you a smile. It was suspiciously fake.

You huffed. You knew something was up—it was so obvious—and it was frustrating that Zuko wouldn’t admit it. For now, you let it go. It was time to eat dinner anyway.

After a nice, hearty meal of soup, it was time to go to sleep. The sun had set long ago. Story telling, jokes and witty banter had been replaced by mather nature’s ambiance; crickets chirped and the campfire crackled. Everyone was tired.

Aang yawned, “I think it’s time to sleep.”

“Agreed. Last one to bed, don’t forget to put out the fire!” Sokka said as he got up to leave.

One by one, the Gaang members said their “good nights” and withdrew to their tents. Then, it was just you and Zuko.

“We should get to bed too. I’ll put out the fire.” He stood to leave, but you grabbed his sleeve.

“Wait. Can we talk for a second?”

Oh no. The fire grew a little. What does [y/n] want to talk about? Do they know I like them? Do they know I can’t control my firebending? Or is it something else? Are they mad at me?

Zuko hesitantly sat back down. “Uh, sure. What’s up?”

You turned to face him. “Can you please tell me what’s wrong?” You asked sincerely. Now that everyone else was gone, maybe Zuko would feel more open to talk about it.

Unfortunately for him, that wasn’t the case. Zuko couldn’t find the courage to tell you about his feelings. Instead, he racked his mind, trying to find a way out of this conversation without being too weird. Meanwhile, the flames of the campfire flicked and danced wildly.

“I-I don’t know,” he replied bashfully.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I, uh, can’t tell you,” he stammered.

“What? Why?”

The campfire cracked and popped loudly. Not only was it becoming bigger, it was becoming hotter too. Zuko bit his lip trying to think of a good response. He had never been this nervous before.

“Because, umm,” he trailed off.

You leaned forward slightly, raising an eyebrow. “Because...?”

Now you noticed yourself feeling much warmer than before. Something big and bright caught the corner of your eye. When you turned to look at it, a gasp escaped your mouth.

“Zuko! The fire!” You cried as you backed away from it.

All the tension Zuko had built up inside turned the previously small campfire into one that was the size of a bonfire. Bigger, taller, hotter and brighter, it was out of control.

You grabbed a small bucket of water near you and splashed it on the fire. It wasn’t enough to put it out and barely did a thing.

“Zuko, do something! Put it out!” You hissed, trying not to wake up the rest of the team.

“I’m trying!” Zuko waved his arms trying to diminish the flames. He already had a hard time taming them when he was just sitting with you. Now that you were freaking out, he was really struggling. You ran to Katara’s tent to get help.

“Katara! Wake up!” You shook her body.

“Huh? What’s going on?” She said, wiping her eyes.

“Fire! Campfire! Out of control! Zuko can’t stop it!” You rambled while gesturing wildly with your hands.

Katara grabbed her waterskin and rushed out of her tent. With the wave of her arms, she guided her water to the fire and put it out within seconds. Smoke arose from the sizzling, burnt firewood.

“Phew, thanks, Katara,” you said with relief.

“Yeah, you’re welcome.” She turned to Zuko and pointed at finger to his chest. “Next time you want to impress someone, why don’t you just give them flowers instead of firebending and burning down the whole campsite?” She scolded.

Zuko’s eyes widened in shock. How does she know I like [y/n]?!

“What? No! That’s wasn’t what I was doing!” Zuko said, pleading innocence. Katara pursed her lips and shook her head as she returned to her tent.

“Good night, you two,” she said cheekily before slipping inside.

You turned to face Zuko, jaw slacked. You were shocked and confused by everything that just happened. He whipped the swear off his brow and took a deep breath.

“I think I’m ready to tell you what’s wrong now.”

You gave Zuko a puzzled look. Now you were even more confused. Nevertheless, you sat down next to him, because you were glad that he would finally open up to you about it.

“This is going to sound weird, but I can’t control my firebending when I’m around you,” Zuko confessed.

“What? Why? Did something happen?” He shook his head.

Zuko’s inability to bend properly reminded you of when he lost his firebending in the air temple. It was because he was previously taught to fuel it with anger. If firebending can be fueled with anger, you wondered if Zuko was unable to control it now because he was upset with you.

“Did I do something?” You asked worriedly.

“Mmm-mm,” he shook his head again. “No, actually, you’ve done nothing at all,” he chuckled a little.

“I don’t understand. You’re not mad at me, are you?”

“No, I’m not. It’s the opposite actually. I like being with you, but I get so nervous, because...well, I don’t think you like me.” Heat pooled in Zuko’s cheeks. He looked away so you wouldn’t see it.

“Why would you think that? Of course I like you, Zuko,” you assured, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He sighed. “I meant as more than a friend.”

“You do?” You asked in disbelief, blushing.

“Yeah,” Zuko mumbled quietly.

“I like you too,” Zuko turned to you with raised brows before you continued, “as more than a friend.”

“Really?” Now it was his turn to be surprised.

“Yes, really.”

You smiled, and Zuko smiled back. He brought a hand up to your face and gently cupped your cheek, rubbing his thumb back and forth. Your eyes locked with his, and, for a second, you saw him glance at your lips. You knew what he was thinking. Slowly, you leaned forward, and he did too, until the gap was closed. His lips were soft and warm. You melted right into him.

When the two of you separated, you nuzzled your head in the crook of his warm neck. His arms wrapped around you to bring you closer. Instead of heading off to bed like everyone else, you both silently agreed to stay up just a little bit longer. And just like that, all the butterflies in Zuko's stomach flew away. He would no longer have any trouble controlling his bending.

[saladejin]

Lost & Found | Jimin (M)

Jimin x Fem!Reader | s2f2l au, (ex)-policeman!Jimin, vetnurse!Reader | fluff, meet-cute, (emphasis on) hurt/comfort, angst and heavy angst, found families, slight humour, mentions of other members

Summary: You’ve essentially spent your whole life working around dogs, through sickness and through health, but one memorable encounter at the park has you thinking ‘why not one more?’ 

Or, maybe it’s not the dog that needs help, but rather the beautiful yet reserved man with honey blonde hair at his side. Perhaps, rather than dogs and cats, you need to start learning how to heal people. Maybe then you can start to heal yourself too.

Warnings: tw // (mental health, descriptions of death - no major, descriptions of abandonment - not by main characters, absent parents) // Descriptions of traumatic experiences, mental health issues/struggles (depression, anxiety), minor character death, hurt/comfort, mental breakdowns / resolved breakdowns. Only the tiniest, vaguest references to suicide - basically nothing.

- semi non-descriptive smut, fooling around in the pool, kissing, touching, fucking ... plenty of cussing lol

Word Count: 18.6k (hahahha kill me) 

A/N: Okay so here is my entry for the Ghostie Network’s ‘Dynamite Dads’ event, and it’s a bit late oops! I wasn’t really feeling up to write Jimin as a dad with an actual human baby, but I did the next best thing and gave him a gorgeous pupper who he basically treats as his own child ... enjoy :)

The genre was FLUFF, and my trope was ‘found family’. I promise you there is definitely some fluff to pay off for the angst. I feel ok saying it’s nothing too extreme, 🥺 but please heed the warnings and don’t hate me too much for the pain hehe

There will be a sequel, so this will most likely end up being a two-shot. You’ll see what I mean :) 

<< masterlist

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵  

Jimin knows from the very moment he opens his eyes to the sound of 6 a.m. birdsong, that today would be it. His last day.

He drags himself from bed, all fluffed up hair and puffy eyes, shrugging on the same dark navy uniform he’s worn for the past five years. He blinks away the sleep clutching at his eyelids, trying his best to prevent the flashing colours behind them from focusing into memories. 

Perhaps they were a lingering dream, flooded with the distant sounds of wailing sirens and a snarling canine, but thankfully they vanish with one brisk shake of his head.  

Snarling swiftly changes into a gentle whine, and Jimin raises his head with a troubled sigh to see Mandu sniffing by his bedroom door. His best friend, his companion, and most of all his boy. Jimin’s cheeks lift in a small smile, and the dog with a pelt of rich fawn brightens instantly, tail thumping the wall in innocent glee at seeing his handler’s eyes shine.

“Morning, bud.” 

Not two hours later, Jimin’s sitting just outside the chief’s office. He waits with downcast eyes, fiddling with his fingers to ward away the nerves and anxiety causing his heartbeat to pick up speed. 

He knows how it looks; he knows that everyone there can see through him and his firm expression. He’s never been good at hiding emotions very well, despite society’s expectation that anyone working in the law enforcement sphere should. No, not him, and that’s exactly why he has to leave it all behind.

“Officer Park…”

The chief’s eyes are not upset, angry or surprised by the news, but rather concerned. Jimin swallows his guilt down heavily, knowing full well that he has every right to do what he’s doing. He fights the urge to comb his fingers through his soft honey blonde hair, or the instinctual need to scratch at his own neck from the sheer distress of it all.

“Park, is it because of yesterday?”

That simple phrase was all it took to send him reeling back.

Flashing colours and background noise burst into focus, and Jimin suddenly finds himself reliving everything. Heavy well-worn boots thudding against the road slick with fresh rain, the sound of shrieking sirens all around, piercing his eardrums like knives. His lungs constricting, burning, with need for air as he follows Mandu into the darkness of the alley.

“Jung! Jung, where-”

Jimin can barely hear himself think above the clatter, the vicious snarling and gnashing of teeth against flesh being the only sound keeping him grounded. He has a job to do, and he’ll see it through to the end even if it costs him his life. He cocks his pistol and carefully peers around the corner of the dimly lit alleyway, hoping that the pathetic cries of the criminal under attack means that the coast is somewhat clear.

Anxiety bubbles up in his chest, for his partner and his boy, but he knows he can’t let his worry for them cloud his judgement now, of all times.

“Drop your weapon now!” he shouts above the noise, rounding the corner to apprehend the man currently locked into a bloody fight with his K-9 counterpart, desperately kicking and shoving to try and escape the ferociously snapping jaw knocking him down.

To Jimin’s relief, the weapon in question had been thrown down with a clatter amidst the man’s struggle, the gun still rotating slightly in its place from the force of its projection.

Then his bones freeze up when he watches the shiny object come to rest by a steel-capped boot, a boot so familiar to his eyes because it’s the exact same one he wears.

It’s Jung. Slumped against the wall, unmoving, unseeing … blood pools everywhere around him, and the iron-tinged smell hits Jimin right in the face until he can barely stand to breathe. “H-Hoseok, no…”

Mandu’s growls bring him crashing down to Earth, and Jimin’s pulled the trigger before he can even think twice about his actions. In the back of his mind, he knows he’s trained unconditionally to aim for non-fatal points on the human body, but right then and there, through the crimson haze of his fury, he wished he’d been able to do it.

Avenge him.

“Park…”

“Officer Park? Are you with me?”

Jimin gasps lightly, blinking his eyes to chase away the all-too-fresh memory from his mind yet again. His bottom lip is clamped so hard between his teeth, he wonders if the iron taste of blood in his mouth had actually been more than imagination. The superior officer sat at the desk in front of him nods solemnly.

“Park Jimin, I understand completely. I can’t stop you…”

The chief’s voice fades into the background as Jimin lets his thoughts wander once more, but he soon feels the darkness eating away at him again. The inner demons, the pain and suffering, because everyone leaves you, Jimin. The cycle repeats, you let yourself love then you let yourself lose.

“The … adoption of ‘Mandu’ as you’ve stated here, has already been finalised. We’re glad to see a long serving canine of our force retire to a responsible home. Thank you, Park.”

“Of course, Chief.”

The older man sighs and gives Jimin a once-over, clearly recognising that the man before him needs time to heal, however long that may be. Jimin feels it too, deep within his heart, his mind, and his very soul. This was it. He could finally hide. He could finally stop inflicting all this pain on himself and push it back to the deepest corners of his mind, where it would remain untouched.

“We thank you for your service, please hand in your badge and equipment by the end of the week.”

  ~ three months later ~

 “That’s it for the day!”

Muscles aching and eyes watering from a yawn, you peel the stretchy gloves from your hands with a grimace. The sweaty feeling lingers on your skin long after throwing the disgusting things in the trash. It’s only after you shed your nurse scrubs and lanyard that you remember you aren’t quite ready to finish up.

“(Y/n), you just have to take Jessie out for a bit before you go,” your colleague calls, much to your chagrin at the reminder. It’s been a long day at the veterinary clinic, and even if vet nursing wasn’t quite as strenuous of a job as legitimate veterinarian work, it still sapped a decent amount of energy.

God, you just want nothing more than to go home to your warm bed, and your fluffball cat. Instead, you pack away your uniform and grab a leash to prepare for the walk.

“C’mon girl,” you coo gently to the old border collie resting in her cage. There was an immense pride in the way the clinic took care of its sick and injured animals, and that included exercising the dogs every single day without fail. You absolutely loved it, loved your job and everything it entailed.

Ten minutes later, you’re letting the gate to the local park click shut behind you.

The dog park is remarkably busy today, you muse after letting Jessie off her leash for a run. Inside the spacious area – fenced off nicely with grasses delightfully green from the Spring air – are dogs and puppies of various shapes, sizes and colours bounding around each-other like ping pong balls.

You can’t suppress a snort of amusement as a particularly handsome pooch catches your eye, something akin to a German Shepherd though not quite as large. Your eyes follow the energetic bundle of energy as he darts around the group of dogs, chasing them and nipping at their heels to keep them controlled, just how he likes it.

It was inevitable that Jessie would soon join in, and you can only let out knowing sigh at the sight of the beautiful collie’s eyes lighting up with that familiar fire; a flame that had remained dormant for many, many years within her ageing mind. She takes off and rounds up the strays of the flock, arthritis in her joints long forgotten as her instincts to chase and collect take over entirely.

“Mandu, why…”

A breathy sigh escapes the person standing barely a metre away from where you sit on the park bench, and you finally take a moment to observe the other dog owners milling around this sector of the park. Their eyes are wide in confusion as they witness the spectacle happening before them, but you’re brought back to the man closest to you as he lets out another disappointed click of his tongue.

“It’s normal with herding breeds,” you find yourself saying through a fond smile, though your socially awkward inner self wants to kick you in the ass for it. The man, who looks as though he’d been about to jump in to collect his zippy companion, falters in his motion to regard you in surprise.

“Yeah, uh, it’s just been a while since my boy’s done it.” He rubs at his neck self-consciously, eyes glancing around to see if anyone’s thrown him a dirty or judgemental look already. From your place on the wooden seat, you can easily catch the way the sunlight caresses the man’s unique features, the worn-out sneakers and running wear telling you that he comes this way often to exercise.

He clears his throat. “You…”

As he trails off, somehow losing confidence halfway through his sentence, you feel that familiar pang of embarrassment that comes with talking to strangers. “Mine’s the collie, so I know I should probably step in too.” You laugh quietly, instantly breaking eye-contact when he holds your stare for a second too long.

He was stunning, to say the least, with incredibly soft looking caramel hair swept back from his face, and pillowy looking lips that were large, but fitting when placed together with his smooth sloping cheekbones and an elegant jawline. His eyes, though, were tired. They were so tired, and you knew exactly what it felt like to leave home every day when you were … that emotionally exhausted.

At your comment, the man breaks into a grin, because well … you’re in the same boat here. He’s probably relieved that you hadn’t lectured him on dog behaviour or keeping his pet in check, or something like that. Nope, turns out you were just as liberal as he was.  

You get to your feet, trying to inwardly shake the tingling in your chest from the sight of his lips curling into a smile alone, and jostle the leash in your hand to try and get your playful lady’s attention.

When that didn’t work, you let out a loud whistle and hope that the slight burning sensation travelling up the back of your neck would fade away soon. Although, you knew that as long as the curious man kept his eyes trained on you, it would persist. “Jessie, here girl.”

The beautiful stranger follows suit, but to your shock he barely has to make any noise, just a simple gesture and briskly spoken word before his responsive dog is sitting to attention at his feet. Ears pricked and warm canine eyes focusing on his owner as if nothing else in the world would ever matter as much as he did in that moment. You quickly look up to catch a glimpse of the man’s face once more, and the love now swimming in his gaze as he ruffles the dog’s pointy ears was nothing short of breathtaking.

You should go now.

You utter a tiny ‘bye’ as you take your leave, not even sure that the captivating man is able to hear you over the way he’s currently trying to scold his tawny-furred dog in a soft, gentle tone. A stern voice that still made it obvious just how endeared he was behind the annoyed façade.

You glance down to where Jess pads quietly on the pavement beside you, her black and white wavy pelt somewhat tousled from the exertion and her tongue lolling out in pure elation after stretching her legs. Sunlight, a blinding smile, caramel blonde hair…

How were you supposed to think of anything else now?

~

Three days pass, and you’re back in the clinic. Work is piling up, and you’re basically booked out thanks to a spontaneous outbreak of ‘Kennel Cough’ throughout nearby shelters. How the infectious disease spread to not one, but two localised areas, nobody knew.

“Someone must have taken their dog to all of them, or maybe had it transferred mid-vacation,” you growl to Dr. Kim, lining the antibiotics up on the med table after checking the clipboard thoroughly. Healthy vaccinated dogs would be fine, perhaps a tad sickly for a week or two, but puppies and those with immune deficiencies? Out of luck unfortunately.

“I’ve scheduled the radiographs for the most affected,” Dr. Kim informs, and you’re in a right mind to believe he’s only trying to reassure you right now. He sighs and flashes you a weary smile, age-lines prominent around his kind features thanks to the recent months of stress. “Hopefully we can rule out any pneumonia. You’re free to go on break by the way, Nurse (L/n).”

At the word ‘break’, you feel dread crash through your body like a heavy wave. Shit, had you forgotten to bring lunch today? A wishful image floats through your head of the delicately tossed Greek salad you’d prepared the night before, only problem being that it was still wrapped neatly in the fridge at home.

“Damn it,” you mutter, planting a forced smile on your face when the older doctor eyes you worriedly at the soft outburst. “Sorry, I’ll need to head out today.”

You can’t stop internally punching yourself for being forgetful, knowing that it’ll cost you precious time to walk to the nearest eateries and back. Perhaps if you owned a car, you’d be able to savour those few extra minutes of relaxing during your break.

Nope, it’s walking for you now. Idiot.

So off you go. The route is pleasantly quiet for the most part, with the sun slowly beginning to warm the leaves on trees as they protect their newly forming flower buds. There’s the incessant yet melodic chirping of birds while they scourge the nearby plants for food, either for themselves or their young. It was easy to stop and appreciate the various signs of revival and rebirth around you, but maybe not today.

Today, you had too much to worry about and too much weighing you down. There were so many helpless animal lives that were going to be lost, all because of one person and their ignorance. You had to come to terms with death fairly quickly when entering this line of work, but that didn’t make it any easier as time passed by.

Especially for someone like you.

You come to a sudden stop and blink your eyes firmly. The painted sign that blocks your path display the words ‘DOG PARK’ in all capitals, and it throws you off guard completely. You’d … somehow taken this heavy of a detour? Well, you suppose it could be worse, and the park did have another entrance on the far side you can use to somehow shortcut your way into town, but you can’t shake your confusion until ah.

There he is. The dog park guy, standing slightly off the well-trodden path. He’s dressed in a casual grey tee shirt and comfy matte black shorts this time, effortlessly showing off the defined muscles of his calves as he bends down to retrieve a bright green frisbee. He then flings it so high into the air, you doubt even his wonderfully enthusiastic dog will be able to catch up to it.

But when the well-built canine does in fact manage to clamp his teeth down on the airborne toy, you only manage to pick your jaw up off the floor after a handful of shellshocked moments. Some special kind of training had become evident in the way the animal springs off its hind legs with such intensity.

Right, you should stop staring like a maniac and keep walking.

At this rate, you’re going to be late back to work, and with the sheer number of things left to do and problems to solve with the shelters and kennels, you know that’s not an option. Hell, you’re so swallowed by your anxiety that you break out into a slow jog to make it at least halfway through the dog park in time.

Don’t look at him, don’t.

You glance at the man as you pass him, hoping to dear God that he’s focusing on his dog rather than the strange pet-less woman running through the park meant for pets, wearing dark forest-green scrubs underneath her jacket because she was too stupid to remember her food for the day. But alas, he is looking at you too.

It’s a weird kind of energy you can’t place, as if some kind of invisible force is trying to slow your feet down. The air thickens in resistance, and it’s like you’re barging through it to continue forward on your path. Everything in your body screams at you to stop, to talk to him, to say ‘hello’ with a smile because he deserves to have his own friendly one returned in some way. Oh wow, he’s actually looking at you, isn’t he?

The thing is, in situations like this you get nervous. You and attractive guys? Not quite the match made in heaven you’d probably expect. He flashes you that smile, all pearly whites to accompany the recognition from yesterday glittering in his startled gaze, but all you can manage is a strained grimace-like grin in return with a tiny wave of your sweaty palm.

Great. Fucking great.

At least you’re already gone before you can wallow in the humiliation; before you can simmer in it like a fine stew. He’s probably forgotten you already anyway, but you can’t help looking over your shoulder to check regardless.

Checkmate, he’s watching you go. The smile is now amused, and his head is cocked cutely to the side in playful confusion. As his dog jumps all over him to try and win back his attention, you flip the hoodie of your jacket up and try to ward off the embarrassed onslaught of laughter that bubbles in your chest. It would take more than a few days to wipe the image of his crescent moon shaped eyes from your memory this time around.

~

Jimin wakes to a wet and uncomfortable sensation prodding his face, and if he didn’t already have an innate sense for his favourite living being in the whole world, he’d be on his feet and ready to fight in no time at all.

“Mandu you gotta let me sleep,” he groans out, voice deep and groggy from his slumber. A persistent whine dragging from the throat of the animal rouses Jimin further, and he slides up to rest back on his elbows, eyes squeezing shut and skin covered in the slightest sheen of sweat from how hot it’d been under the bedcovers.

His dry lips part in a yawn. “Fine, you hungry?”

Mandu pokes his snout into Jimin’s cheek once more, big gentle brown eyes urging him to get up and start his day. Jimin knows that without his best friend with him, he’d barely have any motivation to step foot outside his room, let alone head out for a run each day consecutively.

It helps that his buddy looks out for him as diligently and as loyally as he had back when they were in the force together. It’s like nothing ever changed, and in the back of Jimin’s mind, he knows that the sense of routine had most likely saved his life time and time again.

“Alright,” he grunts loudly, lips curving into a smirk as he cups Mandu’s furry face into his palms, squishing the doggy cheeks he finds there together until the dog squirms in his spot on the bed. It’s not until Mandu lets out a frustrated yet playful growl that Jimin leaves him be with one last ruffle of his dark pointed ears.

Yeah, he really was fucked without his boy reminding him to eat, walk and sleep every day. Jimin knew it was pathetic, and he’d never felt so useless in his whole life, but it was enough to get him through for now.

Jimin scratches at his bare chest, freezing on his amble towards the kitchen when he spots something. Mandu stops along with him, his nails click on the floorboards in impatience but Jimin’s eyes are intensely locked onto the photo frame perched on the living room cabinet.

Idiot, of course there was one left.

He slams the frame down, making sure he can’t see the two laughing faces for a second longer than needed. He realises with a frown that he probably forgot to remove it due to barely ever setting foot in the living room as it was. Up until now, for the last five years, he’d spent most of his time at the station or out on the field. Patrolling, tracking … even apprehending, but that simply meant areas of his home went essentially unused for months on end.

Things were changing…

“Hey bud, what’s for breakfast?” he hums to his pal softly, finding a small happiness in the way Mandu circles around his legs like a bothered child. He assumes that if the dog were human, he’d be sporting the mightiest of pouts right about now.

Ten minutes later, Jimin finds himself nose deep in a bowl of flavourless cereal. On any other ordinary day, he and Mandu would usually race to see who could finish their meal the speediest, but he’s not feeling it this time around. The fawn coloured dog seems to give him a judgemental stare, as if saying ‘what’s wrong with you, did you let me win!?’ to which Jimin looks down at him and lets a breathy laugh fall from his lips.

“Not everything’s a competition boy, grow up already.”

Mandu simply huffs and moves to lay down, resting his muzzle on his front paws in defeat.

“How dare you roll your eyes at me.”

A dismissive sniff in response. Jimin finishes his meal with a shake of his head, knowing that if anyone were to ever hear the way he spoke to his pet dog, he’d most likely get shipped off to the nearest mental institution available. The sudden dark thought earns a surprised raise of his brows, but as he rinses his bowl off in the sink, he knows he has nothing to worry about.

It’s only him and Mandu now, and nobody else mattered. Nobody else was allowed to matter.

Yet Jimin’s always one to wear his heart on his sleeve. Even if he tries the hardest he can to shut the world out, he’s continuously drawn to people. Drawn to seek company and validation, drawn to love others with his whole heart unconditionally. He could have it all, but all the world does is take from him.

He sighs and sits back at the kitchen countertop, head resting on his folded arms much like the sassy child sprawled underneath the stool right now. “Do you think we’ll see the pretty lady from the park again today?”

The dog’s ear twitches, then flicks as if bothered by an irritating bug of some description. Jimin doesn’t know how to take that, really. Was it a no? Did Mandu even want to see her as much as he did? He supposes not, considering the ex-police dog was trained to be protective, and was instinctively so in every possible way.

He belongs to Jimin, and apparently that means Jimin belongs to him too, no friends allowed. Something in the back of his mind shouts that he shouldn’t be wanting friends anyway, that they were something to be afraid of.

“Whatever.”

It was the next day when things turned sour. To Jimin’s slight disappointment, they hadn’t seen the pretty lady in strange green attire again, but something did go horribly wrong instead.

Jimin exits the bathroom with a snowy white towel draped over his head, hoping that somehow his laziness will be overlooked for once and the towel will simply dry his hair for him with no additional effort, only for the fabric to fall from his head once he catches sight of Mandu walking down the hallway. Only he’s not walking, but rather limping.

“Buddy c’mere,” Jimin calls, voice pitching higher than usual in concern. With fear and cold hard dread settling deep into the pit of his stomach, Jimin observes the dog instantly perking up at the sound of his voice.

Mandu lets out a small yelp of excitement, but still has a stiffness and slight limp to his gait when he makes his way over. Jimin crouches down and pets the canine fondly, the sinking of his heart telling him that his suspicions were right all along.

Something is wrong here. He has to know what’s up, has to make sure his boy’s alright.

Jimin’s bundled the both of them into the car before he can stop to even think straight, and Mandu is nothing but a ball of excitement – bouncing around and goofily grinning the entire time. It hurts to think he’s fooling the dog into believing they’re going on some sort of spontaneous adventure, but that wouldn’t be entirely wrong. It’s only around noon so the local vet clinic has to be open, right?

He’s not dying, you really need to chill out.

Jimin knows his inner voice speaks the truth, but he continues to justify his frantic driving with a carefully crafted self-assurance. He’s only making sure, he’s simply worried for his baby.

He doesn’t stop to think about the way his hair is still unpleasantly damp from the shower, having forgotten to actually dry it beforehand, or the way his socks had somehow ended up being odd colours. He hastily finds a park outside the clinic and attaches his leash to Mandu’s collar.

What Jimin doesn’t expect to see, when striding through the administration doors with the dog in his arms, is you.

Your expression matches his own look of astonishment, your beautiful eyes widening in recognition in the exact same split-second his do. If Jimin was being honest with himself, he could probably just stand there looking at you for the next thirty minutes or so, but a miniscule wriggle from the animal in his hold brings him crashing back down to Earth.

“Um, hi,” he begins awkwardly, paces enormous as he lurches towards the desk you’re bracing your hands upon, still recovering from the shock of seeing him again it seemed. “I have a problem…”

You clear your throat and try not to smile at the amusing sight before you. Jimin knows it can’t be the strangest thing you’ve ever seen here, but the openly scared and confused dog clutched to his chest is enough to make you bite your lip in an effort to restrain yourself.

“I can see that. Luckily, we’ve got nobody in queue so you can jump right out back with me,” you say with a kind lilt to your tone that Jimin can tell is part of the customer service sector of your job description. He doesn’t really mind, nor does he even care. Right now, his only concern is Mandu.

No pretty lady in green scrubs is going to distract him from his best bud right now.

Fifteen minutes pass, and Jimin is worrying the skin of his bottom lip with his teeth. His wide troubled eyes trail over every movement you make as you examine the incredibly stiff and uncomfortable dog on the sterilised table. When Jimin meets Mandu’s startled gaze, he tries his best to calm his best friend down in a familiar gentle tone he would use at home.

“It’s okay buddy, you’ll be alright. Good boy…”

If you’re irritated or weirded out by his vocalisations, you don’t show it. Your mind seems to be too wrapped up in gently working your fingertips into the back haunches of the dog, massaging in slow circles. Jimin’s drawn in by the way you handle Mandu with such care and precision, and he begins thinking that if you were to do that to him, he’d probably be relaxing in no time.

Weird thoughts, but whatever, I guess.

The same can’t be said for the dog, though, and Jimin can only pick up the intensity of his soothing praises once he catches sight of Mandu trembling in fear on the table. The dog’s elbows seem to want to buckle under the stress of the situation, and it breaks Jimin’s heart to pieces to see his pal all worked up like this. It’s lucky that the animal has been trained well enough to trust in his handler’s presence alone, otherwise this whole examination might’ve taken a … darker and more vicious turn.

“Do you know what’s wrong?” he asks you quickly, voice high and strained as he reaches forward to scratch behind one of the dog’s ears in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. Mandu licks his palm in return, and usually Jimin would recoil and protest loudly, but today he was fairly sure he’d let his boy get away with anything.

You sigh softly, and Jimin doesn’t know what that means at first, but then you peel the gloves from your hands and flash him a small smile. Everything starts to feel okay somehow. “You see, Sir, this is quite commonly seen in specific breeds of dog, including your German-”

“Belgian Malinois.” The correction is out before he can hold it back, and Jimin wants to slap himself for how snappy and rude it sounds, but you don’t take offense in the slightest. Instead, he’s stunned once more when you click your fingers with a light gasp of realisation.

“That’s what it is! I was trying to remember the name of this breed for days on end, after the first time I saw him in the park.”

Jimin raises his brows at that, feeling the last of his anxiety melt from his bones at the sight of your smile, which was slowly beginning to familiarise itself to him.

“Ah, well you could’ve asked me. I would’ve told you in a heartbeat.” He chuckles, though it’s somewhat dry from the raw emotions still running their course through his brain. When you let out a soft laugh in return, he forces himself to tear his eyes away.

“Oh well, anyway you can calm down a bit, there’s nothing life threatening going on here just yet,” you assure in a calming tone, and Jimin can easily sense how there’s more sincerity behind the sound compared to the voice you’d used earlier when greeting him.

“There are two things I can narrow down for you, taking into consideration the information you’ve given me so far. Commonly found in these breeds is something called hip dysplasia, where the hip joint undergoes abnormal development or growth. The other possibility for his lameness is a form of chronic arthritis called osteoarthritis, which deteriorates joint cartilage more commonly in older dogs like Mandu here.”

“He’s not that old though?” Jimin hums, brows furrowing in bewilderment at the news. He pats the dog’s head fondly, saddened but glad that he can breathe a little easier now that he knows what’s going on.

“Perhaps, but he’s lived a very active lifestyle, you see. Heavy strain and activity on the dog’s body can bring this forth quicker, much the same as it does in humans,” you explain with a sad sigh.

“I do recommend getting x-rays done to check out the full extent of the damage, as well as to check for any other abnormalities.”

You then take your leave to fetch the main doctor, and Jimin finds himself startled to discover you’re only a veterinary nurse here. By the way you were reeling off information from the top of your head, as well as the confident manner in which you examined and diagnosed his dog, he would’ve effortlessly assumed you ran the goddamn joint.

He waits in the administration area while Mandu’s getting his x-rays done, fingers fiddling with themselves from the trepidation building up inside him. He doesn’t even hear you enter the room, and can’t help his back going ramrod straight attentively when you clear your throat. Curse his years of training in the force.

“Hey, I can just see that you’re a little stressed out there. He must mean a lot to you.” You walk around the corner of the front desk and take your place one seat away from him. Jimin realises that you most likely keep your distance from most customers with an unmistakeable barrier of professionalism, but for him you seem to be stepping right out of your comfort zone.

He can tell by the unnecessarily chipper tone of your voice, and how your eyes flicker nervously to the side every once in a while. You’re good at hiding how anxious you are, he’ll give you that, but not good enough to escape watchful eyes such as his. Not when he goes through the exact same thing.

He finally musters the courage to respond after a few seconds of simply eyeing you in curiosity. “Yep.” He smiles tightly and returns his gaze to his interlocked fingers, knowing the expression wouldn’t reach his eyes. “He’s been with me through thick and thin. Almost like a little brother or son to me, as weird as that probably sounds.”

“I wouldn’t say weird,” you instantly oppose, laughing to brighten the sullen mood Jimin knows he’s bestowed upon you. “I think it’s sweet, and he’s a very lucky dog to have someone caring about him so much.”

Your sentiment melts the icy sadness around Jimin’s heart ever so slightly. The cold blanket encompassing him ever since his last loved one left his side. He hasn’t felt the urge to open up since, but he knows he sure as hell wasn’t going to start now. “I- thanks, I guess.”

Before he can continue on and ruin the somehow light-hearted atmosphere by telling you he wants to be alone, you’re suddenly speaking again in that gentle voice of yours. “It’s kinda funny how we keep running into each-other, don’t you think? I can’t help but hope you’ll both be at the park whenever I pass by…”

Jimin’s at a loss for words at your candour, looking up sharply to see the way you’re shyly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and avoiding his eyes like the plague. It looks as though you regret the words as soon as they’re out in the open air.

But … he feels the same.

He can’t say it. He won’t. He can’t just let you in and create a space for yourself in his life, or heart right now. He cannot admit that you’ve lived in his mind for free ever since he saw you that second time, running past him with that smile on your face, confusing him with your antics to no end. Why do you keep getting under his skin in the best possible way?

“I mean, i-if you’d like to go out for coffee or something later on, I-”

He dips his head with a small sniff to attempt to cut you off in a somewhat polite manner. “Ah sorry, I’ve got a … funeral at two. Not really in the mood these days, but I appreciate it. Seriously, I do.”

He doesn’t wish to see your reaction to his less than eloquent rejection, but he catches it regardless. That wrenching moment you come to the conclusion that you read the signs all wrong. The glimmer of hope and interest in your eyes slowly flickering out like dying embers, although not completely, and he has no doubt it ever would.

You frown and instantly come through with a quiet “I’m sorry for your loss,”, but Jimin dismisses the sympathy with a tiny wave of his hand, claiming that it was a colleague and acquaintance rather than a close friend or family member.

It’s already obvious to him how much of an optimist you are. You’re holding onto that tiny shred of hope as if it were the string of a helium balloon, one moment of slack and he’d be floating away from you far out of reach.

“Right, sorry if I overstepped.”

He doesn’t know what to say. You’re way too considerate and understanding of him, and the painful burn that leaves on his conscious is so real. It reminds him of all the times his brother would tell him to never take people’s kindness for granted, but here he was shooting you down even though you’d never given him a reason to.

In fact, he likes you enough to go back almost instantly on his words.

“I really am busy, otherwise … I would actually love to, believe me.” He combs a hand through his hair in exasperation, inwardly cringing at the damp dewy sensation greeting his palm as he’s reminded again of his post-shower dilemma. You’re already chuckling at your newfound victory, and he’s pleasantly surprised at the sudden streak of mischief in your eyes.

“Let’s make it a date for Saturday then, see you at the park usual time? I’ll make sure to come out earlier so I don’t miss you again.”

Damn you’re assertive, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t liking it. Something in the way you so effortlessly drew him out of his shell was electrifying. Was he even in total control of his own emotions right now?

He’s left in a stunned silence, nodding in response to your question before you’re suddenly making your exit, uttering something along the lines of ‘best wishes for the funeral’ and ‘good luck with Mandu’, but he can barely hear beyond the rushing of blood past his ears. He’s a flustered mess of a man right now.

He only regains majority of his focus once he’s left the clinic with some anti-inflammatory and pain meds for his dog, a slight dent in his bank account, and a date.

~

Holy fuck. You really did that. You did.

When it came down to it, you just saw your shot and took it. Simple as that, really. When the attractive guy from the dog park had shown up at the clinic, piercing deep brown eyes full of purpose, you’d very nearly felt your brain short-circuit at the sight. However, as time went on you began to get a glimpse of his true self.

It took every ounce of strength within you not to openly coo at the way he soothed his canine friend, with gentle words of encouragement spilling from his plush lips like a steady stream of water. If you’d been blind, you might have even been led to assume he was speaking to a fellow human.

Jimin, he’d revealed as his name. He was so lost in his worry for Mandu you didn’t think he’d even retained memory of your own name when you’d given it, but in the end it didn’t matter. You now had a literal date planned where you could talk and get to know him even more! How you’d managed to force the bold question out, you’ll never know, but hey at least one of your spontaneous and stupid decisions had to go well once in a while, right?

You sink into your couch, a fluffy white cat curled up on your lap as you relive the memories from the day. The relaxing sounds of purring surround you as you massage your fingers into your cat’s thick neck fur.

“Oh Ghostie, what the heck am I gonna do?”

Right now you can only think back to the way his hair was a bit of a jumbled mess, evidently damp and sticking out in all directions cutely. The addicting scent of his body-wash, if the rushed situation and flushed complexion was anything to go by, and aftershave. The man had those butterflies swooping around in your stomach already, and you barely knew him.

Your cat growls in protest when you let out a tiny squeal and make a harsh grab for a couch cushion, effectively burying your face deep into it in pure unadulterated embarrassment and disbelief. After living life being perfectly happy and single, why was this one somewhat decent-looking man sweeping you off your feet?

And sweep you off your feet he would, because when you finally show up to meet him at the dog park on Saturday, you’re being harshly barked at and sent flying to the ground before you can even process what’s happened. The dull ache from the force of impact fades quickly, and you try to regain your bearings before anything worse can happen.

“Fuck, sorry!”

The sight of your freshly washed jeans, now sporting a lovely scuff, causes you to cringe slightly. You shake your head and lock eyes with the pointy-eared dog standing over your body. It strikes you as bizarre, seeing as Mandu’s not exactly attacking you, but he’s not all that happy to see you either. You’re locked into a stand-off, despite you currently being knocked onto your ass with your heart still racing.

“Get off her!” comes Jimin’s outraged yell, his eyes are wide in sheer disbelief and disappointment. You can’t help but laugh softly at his exasperation, the shock of the fall now trickling away at the sight of the familiar face, or rather faces.

“I’m sorry (Y/n), I honestly don’t know what came over him. We were waiting by the pond and he just … took off when you came around!”

You stand and brush your clothes off, feeling your cheeks burn at the fact that he had actually remembered your name from the clinic the other day. You try to tell him it’s fine, but he still scolds the now sheepish looking dog at his feet – albeit as gently as possible through his vexation.

“I couldn’t leave him at home,” Jimin starts, sighing and clipping a leash to the dog’s collar pointedly. “Told him to behave himself but yeah, that didn’t go down well.” He regards you with concerned eyes, and you feel your heart melt at how he tries to subtly check you over for any injuries.

“I’m fine, Jimin, trust me. Working at the clinic means I’ve had my fair share of body-slams. Don’t sweat it.” You wave your hands before squatting, lowering yourself to be face-to-face with Mandu who still seemed to be eyeing you warily.

You understood it. Here you were, nothing more than a stranger, trying to take his owner and favourite person in the world away from him. You had to somehow convince Mandu that you weren’t a threat to their little family of two.

“Hey, buddy. Remember me?” You slowly reach out a hand to pat the top of the dog’s furry head, eager to earn his trust. “I’m not gonna hurt either of you, promise.”

You miss the way something flickers in Jimin’s eyes after hearing you say that. A glazed look of predictability, of cold hard doubt … but it’s gone when you rise to your feet once more. The dog seems to have accepted you for now, averting his eyes from the direct and intimidating glare he’d had trained on you ever since he’d pinned you down.

“Shall we, then?” You find yourself saying, self-confidence shocking you both as you smile and lead the way out of the park and towards the middle of town.

It doesn’t take long to find a nice café to sit at, and it’s with reluctance that Jimin leaves Mandu tied up outside. However, he knows he has to tone down his attachment in view of the public eye, and you especially. He doesn’t know just how far you’re willing to go for him.

He was a closed iron door to the world, yet he was still somewhat intrigued to see your efforts in getting inside. There was no way he was going let it happen, not again, but … why was he here then?

After ordering the coffees, him taking his black after years of late nights on patrol and you filling yours with sugar, you both surprisingly hit it off well. You suppose that after noticing how heavily you could relate to him, and vice versa, it was easy to understand one another and fall into steady conversation.

“The police force, huh.” You sip at your drink with a drawn-out hum of confirmation. “I actually kinda guessed that.”

Jimin blinks in shock. “You did?”

“Yeah! I mean I’ve seen Mandu a handful of times now, and it’s in the way he’s thoroughly trained to listen to your every command, not to mention the way he moves. When I gave him the check-up at the clinic, I forgot to mention that I just assumed your occupation when I said ‘active lifestyle’ back then.”

There is no way you’re going to tell him that you’d also made that assumption based on the man’s incredible build and well-toned muscles as well. Best to keep your thoughts on the dog, and luckily for you Jimin turns his head to check on his companion resting outside by a bowl of water, allowing your eyes to roam freely for a decent second or so.

“Well, you’re more observant than I thought,” Jimin notes through a breathy laugh, fingers lightly tapping at his coffee mug in thoughtful contemplation. You can’t help getting lost in the sight of him yet again.

He’s an absolute vision right now even if he’s dressed casually, only foregoing the shorts and joggers for simple black jeans and flatform sandals. His hair looks as soft as ever, and though his eyes are still open windows that show he’s hurting inside, you can’t help finding the immense beauty behind the pain.

There’s a short, comfortable silence as you both nurse your mugs of caffeine, but you break it in fear of letting an awkward air settle in. Damn, you do love being a little socially inept sometimes.

“Why the name Mandu?” You think it’s an innocent question, but unbeknownst to you, Jimin’s thoughts spiral at the reminder. The memories and origins of his boy’s name that uncomfortably sting at his heart like nettles.

“Ah, it was my brother who named him … actually,” he reveals, wondering if the slight crack of his voice is noticeable as he smiles convincingly. If you see through him, you don’t show it. Instead, you register the hint ever so slightly and aim to avoid prying.

“You would’ve only had him for a few years, right?”

“I served for five, so yeah he’s only been mine for a few years, but I did meet him before that while we were both in training.” Jimin laughs at what seems to be a fond memory, pushing the other ones to the back of his mind for now. “I was a little obnoxious about it back then, because I had to be with him. I demanded it to the chief and everything, if I wasn’t getting Mandu then I would drop my application because we’d bonded so well.”

You giggle, and cough lightly to hide your embarrassment instantly afterwards. “I love that, it’s quite obvious to me that you two are meant for each other.”

“What about you? Got any pets?” he asks, eyes alight with a newfound interest. Catching the way he leans forward in his seat ever so slightly; you feel a familiar warmth bloom in your chest. Jimin was finally relaxing around you.

“Yeah, a cat.” You cover your mouth with one hand to suppress your amusement, waiting for Jimin to scoff at you or screw his face up in disgust, but he doesn’t. Rather, he looks upwards in thought and then shakes his head while chuckling meaningfully. “Mandu would hate you for saying that.”

“Not a fan?”

“Absolutely not. I’m impartial though.” He watches you over the rim of his mug when he lifts it, an amused glimmer in his eye.

“Good to know. Good to know.” Your eyebrows shoot up and you can’t wipe the grin from your face, absent-mindedly stirring your coffee with your spoon. It wouldn’t be long before the drinks were finished, but you didn’t want this moment in time to end.

The two of you chat for another half hour or so, but you can’t help noticing the distant look that surfaces in Jimin’s gaze whenever he brings up old memories of his family or brother. Your curiosity burns at this point, and you feel yourself wanting to get to know him so much more. He’s such an enigma to you. Watching the way he tries to let go and be himself, unapologetically, but holding back just as you catch an addictive glimpse of what that might be.

As you exchange more stories and memories, you can’t help but feel yourself digging a little deeper to uncover what’s tearing him down so hard. “You keep mentioning your brother, I’m guessing you guys are close?”

And ah, now you’ve done it. It hurts to see the guarded expression slam back down on Jimin’s features, but you knew it had to be done. You didn’t know if it were just you who could see it, but by repressing all his memories and feelings, Jimin was doing more harm than good to himself. Some internal part of you wanted to help him, because you knew exactly what it was like.

Though you weren’t expecting every dam to break just yet.

It takes a moment for Jimin to deliberate on his next words, but you wait out every second with him, patient and understanding. He notices this and decides that it’s alright for him to indulge just this once, to let someone in for just a single moment. “Not really, well … used to be. He, uh, he left town a while ago.”

Left?

You keep your tone quiet, not wanting to scare him away because he did seem like the type to take off at any given moment. “Sorry to hear that,” you murmur.

“It’s alright,” he says, wondering just how much he should give away. It’s the first time he’s met up and gone out with someone he’d consider a ‘friend’ of sorts in ages, so he’s not sure how much he should be disclosing right now, but something about you makes him want to let it all go. It scares him like nothing else.

“Honestly it hasn’t been … a great time for me since he left. Y’know, he was the only one that ever stayed, and things were tough being in the force and everything,” he offers through a dry laugh.

You want to reach out for his hand on the café table so badly, but it’s too soon to be that close. He’s testing the waters right now, showing you a vulnerable side that you can easily tell he doesn’t let out very often. It warms your heart, and all these broken feelings he’s showing you make everything feel so real. You can’t help but want to give yourself back to him.

“I can’t imagine it would’ve been easy. I know how it feels, actually.” You mentally prepare yourself to revisit a time you usually laid to rest, keeping the gentle smile on your face because even though these subjects were touchy and very meaningful to the two of you, you’d actually come to terms with yours years and years ago. Learned how to turn that pain and suffering into progress, self-growth.

“You do?” You can tell the sheer hope and relief in his tone doesn’t quite match the caution in his eyes, as if he doesn’t want to think that someone as bright and bubbly as you can ever have as many problems as he does, but you shut that train of thought down for him.

“Yeah, I … don’t have any family left either.”

He wants to know how, why, but he pulls himself back from the question almost instantly. Still, you can see it all on his features. He’s an open book for you to read.

“It’s okay Jimin, I came to terms with it a while back. I’m an only child, but my parents died when I was a teen.”

It hits him like a freight train then. The realisation that yes, of course there are other people in the world who have lost just like he has. The sad but forgiving look in your eyes just about breaks him. He’s been so self-centred the whole time, not even thinking that maybe you’re sitting across from him going through a life just as lonely as his own.

“I don’t know what to say.” To your shock, it’s him that reaches across the table to grasp your hand gently, and you hadn’t even realised it was shaking slightly until he’d steadied it with his own. There were no hidden intentions in his gaze, just a pained understanding. You’d both needed to simply tell someone.

“I promise I’m fine now. It was years ago. I don’t even know why I’m…”

You trail off with a shaky laugh, tightening your grip on his hand slightly in fear that he would let go of you. You were essentially strangers, but you’d both needed this. You needed someone to listen as you talked, to have that visceral sense for the pain rather than simply try sympathising with it. It was different when you knew the feeling.

After the sudden serious note of the conversation had passed, both you and Jimin felt a little weight taken off your shoulders. You’d both torn some walls down today, and that in itself was enough to garner bucketloads of respect and admiration on both accounts.

You part ways back at the park, a new kind of friendship blossoming that, if you were being honest, neither of you had seen coming.

~

A couple of months pass after that, and in between his regular walks and visits to the clinic, Jimin finds himself spending more and more time in your presence. He even jokes around with Mandu that he should walk just a tad more lamely so he can stay a little longer between check-ups. But at the end of the day he knows he truly wants his boy to get better.

The first time he steps foot inside your house, he’s instantly halted in his tracks by the fluffiest white cat he’s ever seen. After hearing you mention, ‘she hates strangers’, and ‘she’ll probably cuss you out straight away’, it comes as a surprise to both of you when Ghost wraps herself around Jimin’s leg and purrs needily. A louder purr than you’ve ever received in your whole ten years of being her owner.

“Stop whoring yourself out! He’s just here to pick up some worming tablets,” you tut in disapproval, earning a hearty laugh from Jimin at the snappy tone. Ghost narrows her green eyes at you and rubs her chin along Jimin’s pant leg one more time for good measure, proceeding to saunter into the kitchen utterly oozing with sass.

After a few more random visits, you stop beating around the bush and begin inviting Jimin over to either chill out or have dinner. Obviously, more often than not it turned out to be both.

You’d order something in and then joke about how unhealthy you were for being too lazy to cook. Jimin even gets so exasperated sometimes that he carts food over from his own home to cook up in your kitchen, funnily enough. It wasn’t your fault you never really had the time to teach yourself during your unrelenting years of university and work, and it wasn’t as if you had a parent around to help you learn as a child.

Jesus, way to be depressing.

It wasn’t uncommon for you and Jimin to find random spots of humour within your combined trauma and abandonment issues either, as unhealthy as that sounds.

You always figured that life was too short to be sad all the time anyway, and even though that ideology alarmed your newfound friend at first, he soon slowly began to see the appeal. He was kind of over being sad, honestly.

He remembers standing by the coffin at Hoseok’s funeral, the very same fateful day he’d encountered you at the clinic for the first time. He’d felt overwhelmed at the emotions threatening to pull him apart at the seams, but at the same time, he’d felt cold at the lack thereof.

That was the result of letting himself get close to someone again, even through work of all places. His partner with the sunny disposition and heart-shaped smile? Gone from this world in a single click of a finger. It was too easy, too much of a risk to get closer. Jimin remembers not even being able to bring himself to cry back then, but things are starting to change now that you’re in the picture.

He still has that lingering dread that you’ll leave him too, but try as he might to keep you at arm’s length, he simply can’t. You bring out the best in him, and you make him want to try harder, to try being better. In a sense, you’re like another Mandu to him. He can’t just ignore that.

He tells you about Hoseok one night, just because it comes up in conversation and he’s already rambling on before he can stop himself. He looks up at your crestfallen face, knowing your heart hurts for him even though he’s unable to muster the correct emotions, all thanks to the disconnection he’s forged from his dead colleague already.

He recalls severing himself from those feelings right as he died, and again when he stood by his body at the funeral, but then you went and somehow reconstructed that bridge without him knowing.

“You know it’s okay to miss people, Jim. To remember them for who they were, and what they meant to you. It’s okay to miss them because they’re gone.”

He cries in your arms until 1 a.m. that night.

After a while, he begins to let people see the true him, fed up with hiding and done with shutting the world out. He returns smiles directed his way in the street, he ventures out to do nothing but simply stop and smell the roses. It’s refreshing, and it’s as if he can barely remember what it feels like after years of being chained down by depression and self-loathing.

You did that, with your calming presence, your affirming words, your genuine care. He’ll never forget it.

And slowly but surely, Mandu begins to warm up to you as well.

“I swear he’s only squaring up just to show off or something,” Jimin snorts as he walks beside you on the concrete path, Mandu in tow on a leash now that you’re leaving the park.

“He’s asserting dominance.” You cast a glance behind you to see the dog glaring you down, just as usual.

‘Why the hell are you walking next to him when I’m supposed to be there? You’re just a lowly human who doesn’t deserve my dad’s time or attention. How dare you!’

You bite back a laugh when you imagine the thoughts running through Mandu’s head, and he sniffs and growls at the sight of you not taking him seriously. He’s a big bad wolf, fear him goddammit.

“I’m sure he’ll accept me into the pack one day,” you respond good-naturedly, earning an eye-roll from Jimin as he shoots a pointed look of warning towards his boy once more. He can’t help but feel tingles erupt across his skin hearing ‘the pack’ come from your mouth. You make it sound like an actual family, and for some reason he seems to crave exactly that. That’s what all of you are to Jimin, a little family.

“Sure, but good luck convincing him to accept Ghost. I’m sure he’ll be walking around with a ‘NO CATS ALLOWED’ sign hanging from his neck soon enough.”

The dog agrees.

The next day is when Mandu’s last check-up is scheduled, and you wait by the front desk nervously as Jimin discusses options with Dr. Kim in the next room over. It’s been several weeks since the dog’s initial diagnosis, and he’s had a slight improvement, but it isn’t enough.

You and Jimin have spoken about how worried he is regarding the dog’s rapid muscle loss, and your heart always constricts at the sight as well. There’s only so much medication you can give.

You already know that Jimin’s current status of unemployment means he probably doesn’t have the means to fund more than one surgery, that is if he wants to remain financially stable. You’d need another plan.

“Hydrotherapy?” Jimin squawks. He’s a picture of confusion right now, one eyebrow cocked and pretty lips parting in surprise. You can’t help laughing at his dumbfounded expression.

“Yes, Jiminie. Dr. Kim has asked me to explain it to you so we can work out when to schedule it. Basically, dogs with chronic arthritis need to be able to exercise their joints and muscles without the excess strain, so regular swimming sessions are perfect.”

“It’ll help him get stronger?”

“Exactly, and since he’s up to date on his vaccinations we can organise a session right away, if you’d like?”

Jimin can’t suppress a shit-eating grin at the formal tone you’re using with him. He’s so used to messing around with you and having general chatter that the sudden switch to your ‘customer’ voice, as he calls it, is now more amusing to him than ever. You grumble under your breath, knowing all too well that he’s making fun of you without actually saying it.

“Fine, when can we start then? I’ve only ever seen him swim once, and it didn’t go well for the bad guy,” Jimin acquiesces, lifting his brows once and smirking at you mischievously. You ignore him.

“That’s alright Sir, we can start this Thursday.” You smile in such a pretentious and artificial way that Jimin has to smother his offended gasp. Now you’re just being rude.

“Pretending not to know who I am? Damn, guess I’ll just throw that strawberry shortcake I bought in the bin when I get home…”

And he’s got you. Your eyes light up and your fingers curl into fists on the desktop. You swallow thickly at the thought of him eating one of your favourite desserts on his own, or even worse throw it out like the heathen he is, but you’re determined not to cave in.

“I’m sorry Sir, I don’t quite follow. Your unhealthy affairs have little importance to me.”

You’re putting up a fight this time around, and Jimin’s willing to play. He leans on the desk with his elbow, the suave and impish air he suddenly exudes makes you nervous on the other side of the marble structure. “In that case, can we make this quick? I gotta rush home and catch up on the last two episodes of ‘Anohana’.”

This time you can’t contain your sharp inhale. “You promised we’d watch that together.”

Jimin chuckles with glee, taking the easy victory with a cocky lick of his lips. You trail the movement with your eyes before glaring at him again. “I don’t even care, you’d better not.”

He enjoys riling you up way too much. “Or what?”

“I’ll literally bust down your door at 2 a.m. in the morning Park, don’t test me.”

He knows you’re only joking around, but hearing his last name uttered in such a grave manner shifts something within him. He’s suddenly transported back to the chief’s office, hands wringing together in unease. “Park, is this about yesterday?”

“Park! He ran over there, follow me quick!”

“Jung wait…”

He has to shake his head, the smattering of memories and thoughts filtering from his mind slower than he’d like. He needs to drown out the sound of the echoing gunshot with something else, something louder.

You’re watching him the entire time with an apologetic gaze, picking up the miniscule signs that tell you he’s had something from the past triggered and brought back up unwillingly. You don’t even know what it is that you said, but you stay quiet and allow him to regain his composure.

“You okay Jiminie?”

“Yeah, sorry. Just thought of something,” he hums, not bothering to try and pretend as if nothing happened. You both knew each other too well at this point, and you understood him enough to have learned it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Sometimes these things just happened.

“Thursday sounds great, (Y/n).”

“Of course, I’ll lock it in. How does catching those last few episodes tonight sound? We can ugly cry and eat ice-cream like the cliché we are,” you say with an enthusiastic clap of your hands, and Jimin smiles tenderly. You always have a sense for what he needs.

He inwardly thanks the heavens for your existence, because now he won’t be alone in the silence of his home, with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company. Even Mandu couldn’t help him sometimes.

“Lovely. It sounds lovely.”

You’ve changed him, and he wants to spend the rest of his life telling you just how thankful he is.

So when his phone rings one late night and he sees your name light up on the screen, he doesn’t hesitate to pick it up, even though his past self would have lethargically thrown it to the side while shrinking away from any kind of human interaction that wasn’t necessary.

“Hey,” he mumbles, eyes still squeezed shut from sleep.

Silence.

He’s startled into a more wakeful state by Mandu lifting his head suddenly from his lap, the attentive canine’s ears twitching as he bores holes into the phone in Jimin’s hand. Now worrying, Jimin says your name into the phone twice, eyes scanning the way his dog seems to be picking up whatever tiny sounds are coming from the speaker.

There’s a sniffle, and a tiny hiccup. “Jimin … I’m sorry. Can you come over right now?”

Anxiety flares up like some kind of wildfire within him, and Jimin’s rocketing from the bed before he can take the time to stop, breathe and think. Mandu follows, a bark of alarm leaving him as he dances around Jimin’s bare feet in excitement. He gets that the dog doesn’t know any better, but from the sound of your sobbing on the other side of the line, anyone could tell that something had gone terribly wrong.

He needs to be by your side now.

“Mandu stay,” he orders, not caring to use any proper commands due to the way his hands are shaking. His heart is hammering against his ribcage, just as it had way back when he’d rushed Mandu to the vet for a simple arthritis problem. Now, his next favourite being in the world was the source of his panic.

He’s thrown on whatever clothes he can find and tries to ignore Mandu’s flurry of whines and howls from inside the house once he’s settled in the car. You’re still on the phone, but he can barely get a word in when you’re crying and blubbering nonsense like you currently are. The most Jimin can do as he drives is what he would need in the stark moments of a mental breakdown, gentle words of encouragement and … a song.

He hates himself for it, but he remembers the lullaby his brother used to sing for him whenever he cried, and he hopes to dear God that he can calm you down with his voice just as Taehyung had when they were younger. The soothing notes fall from his lips, and the memories they bring hurt so much that he can feel himself choking up, but he tells himself that you matter more.

He pulls up to your house ten minutes later, your crying thankfully reduced to a collection of whimpers and sniffles. He doesn’t dare hang up, but barges through the front door without a single second of hesitation. He briefly glimpses the flash of a white fluffy tail disappearing down the hallway, the cat obviously scared out of its mind from the recent events.

Then he sees you curled up in the kitchen, and he just wants to make everything stop.

You’ve got your head in between your knees, tears falling freely from your cheeks as you cradle one arm in your other. Jimin notices with a jolt of shock that the arm you’re holding is all red and blotchy, and it’s clear to him that you must’ve burned yourself somehow.

He rushes to your side and holds you as carefully as he can, almost slipping on the pool of water and charred remnants of baking paper scattered on the tiled floor just beside you. “What happened?” he urges after trying to soothe your trembling form for ten minutes.

He has you on your feet now, arm in the sink as he runs icy cold water over the heated skin as gently as he can. He’s clumsier than you though, so even as he tries to handle your limbs with as much care as you’d once handled Mandu at the clinic, you still wince in pain every now and again. Guilt shoots through Jimin every time, but he knows you’ll forgive him.

You don’t speak until your arm is sufficiently treated and wrapped, thanks to Jimin’s courses in first aid that he can barely remember at this point, but it serves him well enough for now. Your eyes are downcast, and your lips are cracked from all the grief you’d caused them with your teeth. He waits for you to get it together.

“I’m … I’m sorry you had to come all this way-”

“Don’t say that, I’m so glad you called me (Y/n),” he cuts you off, leading you to the plush couch in the living room and sitting you down firmly. He kneels in front of your figure, now wrapped tightly in a blanket for security and comfort, and rests both of his hands on your upper arms.

“You need to tell me what happened, do you feel alright now?”

You nod your head, but he fixes you with strong disbelieving eyes and boom you’re weakened, shaking your head with a sigh. “No, I’m not.”

“How can I help? I’m not great at it, but I really want to help you,” he says earnestly, fingers pressing circles into your arms and calming you down enough to breathe evenly. Your lips twitch up into a nervous smile.

“That song you sang over the phone helped a lot, actually. I don’t know why.”

Hearing that causes Jimin to undergo a whirlwind of conflicted emotions, but he once again tells himself that you’re the only one that matters right now. He starts to sing again but you reach forward to ruffle his messy hair with a chuckle. “It’s okay, I’m just letting you know.”

Thank God, he thinks. Then again, maybe if he uses the melody and lyrics for good, those negative associations could be turned into positive ones. Maybe it was time to make the song his own.

He sees you struggling to think of where to begin and shifts to take a seat next to you with a smile. “Just start with what happened, yeah?”

“Okay.” You nod, combing back your hair with your fingers and wiping the last salty tears from your skin. “So I wanted to try baking something…”

You eye him with a glimmer of amusement in your gaze, and he instantly capitalises on it. “Well there’s your first mistake.”

You playfully wack him, feeling your spirits lift at the sound of his laugh and the sight of his crescent moon-shaped eyes. He really was your light in the dark right now.

“It was going well, actually, but then I heard Ghostie knock something over in my room and I went to check for … not even two seconds.”

Jimin knows that this is where it gets serious, your eyes glaze over again and he can see the recollection of the events flashing through your mind like a reel of film. “I left the baking paper out, and the space was way too messy, I-I definitely should’ve kept it cleaner. I came back and there were some things on fire, but nothing too bad. I just…”

You bend down to rest your face into your hands once more, and Jimin quietly rubs your back in concern. By the looks of it, you were able to put the fire out easily, so what exactly prompted you to break down like that?

You lift your head and keep your shaky hands clamped together by your lips, eyes stricken and weary from the onslaught of emotional stress. “There’s something I haven’t told you yet Jiminie, I would never hide anything from you, so I guess it just never came up. It’s … why I kind of lost the plot after throwing water over the entire kitchen like a lunatic.”

“You can tell me,” he soothes, brows furrowing in distress.

“It’s my parents. How they died….”

His throat tightens with apprehension at the topic, knowing it’s something you definitely avoid talking about whenever it comes up. It was always buried so deep, and Jimin can’t recall ever asking you about the finer details of what you went through.

He feels time slow to a halt as you utter your next words. “They died in a house fire when I was fourteen. Burned to death.”

Oh fuck. Fuck.

It falls into place now, and Jimin snaps out of his daze when he feels your shoulder shudder underneath the palm of his hand. He’s at a loss for words, the sight of how truly upset you are making his heart sink in sorrow.

He scoots over on the couch to hold you close and whisper soft calming words. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. You’re alright, I’m here now.”

You know he has no idea how much it means to you, just hearing those simple words when the anxiety and fear continue to claw at your throat like hellish nails. You’re caught in its grip, the flashing images of flames and the sounds and smells of screeching, burning, crumbling to dust. It surrounds you, and you choke on the tendrils of smoke as if they’re really there, filling your lungs like a heavy sand. It stings, and it’s excruciating.

“Maybe I’d fare a little better … if I’d just stayed somewhere else that night,” you can’t help whimpering out, the memories resurfacing too quickly for you to have control over them.

“You were there?” Jimin reels. Hearing that you’d witnessed your own parent’s death was nothing short of devastating. That was way too much for a young mind to handle, surely. Could the world really be that cruel to one of, if not the most amazing person he’s ever met? He can’t help but cry for you in this moment, trying his best to stay silent as his tears soak into your shirt.

You both stay locked together for another hour or so, Jimin listening intently as you explain the story to him of what happened that night. It’s agonising to relive it, but you know he needs to hear it from you. There’s nowhere else he can hear it from, really.

“Y’know, working in the force meant I had to handle situations like that a few times. It was rare, but it did happen. I’ve seen the faces of the families; I’ve seen the damage it can cause. I just wish you hadn’t been alone, fuck,” he mumbles, hating that he can’t just go back and fix what’s unfixable.

You wave him off. “Jimin, you’ve done more for me tonight than … literally anyone’s ever done for me. Truly, I love you for that.”

His heart leaps in his chest.

“I don’t relapse too often,” you carry on shakily, “it’s just that the sight of a fire that’s out of control just … it just terrifies me so much. I see their faces in the flames.”

It’s so fucking messed up. He feels his entire being shiver in discomfort at the image you’re painting for him, but he only holds you closer. He wants to chase it all away, even though deep down he knows he can’t. All he can do is be here for you, with you when you need it most.

“That’s why I went into vet science,” you say, eyes growing brighter the longer Jimin embraces you. It’s like he’s physically holding you together, and it’s so very safe in his arms. “I had to come to terms with death as a concept, like properly. I wanted to save those who didn’t deserve it just yet, those who deserve to live longer lives just like they did. It’s my life’s purpose.”

Jimin comes to the realisation, right then and there, that he probably loves you.

You are, without a doubt in his mind, the strongest and most remarkable person he’s ever met. He wants to be around you all the time, wants to share your energy, wants to be half as amazing as you are – with every fibre of his being. It’s not like he can just say that though. Not right now, anyway.

He tucks the thought away for another time. A better one.

“What about you? Why did you want to become a police officer?” you ask, snorting once into a tissue to finally rid yourself of the snot and tears.

“Me?” Jimin chuckles. You’re always one to turn it around, never wanting the spotlight for more than needed. He fondly reaches up to run his fingers through your hair, grazing the skin of your cheek along the way and making you smile wistfully.

“Well, it’s hard to pinpoint exactly why. It always comes down to justice, right? We all want to enforce that, protect those that need protecting, and saving lives as well. I’m very similar to you in that sense,” he starts, clearing his throat to lighten the atmosphere with a confident tone. You find yourself snuggling into his side, just longing to hear him talk for hours while you wrap yourself in the warmth of the blanket and his reassuring presence.

“My family left a while back, and my brother was the only one who stayed with me. Both of us had to fend for ourselves, and with me being the eldest, it was easy to fall into that father-figure kind of mould. I wanted to protect what we had, but it was pretty laughable when I was the smaller kid.” Jimin laughs, surprising not only himself, but you with the way he speaks about his past so openly and without any bitterness or animosity.

He was looking at it a different way, and he had you to thank for that.

“So I trained,” he continues. “I trained so hard and spent years proving myself. I came home to our tiny flat every night, prouder than I’d been the night before. And Tae-”

His throat tightens and he has to cut himself off, the syllables of his brother’s name dying on his tongue due to disuse. He hasn’t said it in years, and the feeling his name conjures is strange. There’s the ever-present cold hard hatred building in his chest, but in some wild and wacky way, it’s easier to move past it.

“Taehyung … he was so proud of me too.”

You lift your head from where it rests on Jimin’s chest, moving your hand to envelope his where it resides in his lap. His fingers grasp yours gently, a simple squeeze telling you that he’s alright to keep going. He’s got you so relaxed in his arms that you can almost feel yourself falling asleep, but you know you mustn’t. You have to stay awake for him right now, right when he’s opening up completely.

“Since you shared your story, I figure I have to share mine.” Jimin smiles, the expression not completely reaching his eyes. Both of you have made so much progress tonight, it’s not even funny. He knows that if he doesn’t tell you now, he most likely never will.

“We … fell in love with the same person, me and Tae. It got ugly, and we were super close until the countless fights and yelling matches tore us apart. Even after we both got over this person, we couldn’t stand each-other. We couldn’t make it through one day without a handful of painful jabs being sent back and forth. It was bad, so bad.” He takes a deep breath, and you sit up slightly to hold him closer. The positions were reversed now.

“I needed him, despite all that, I really did. He was the only one left, and I was too proud to just forget everything that’d happened to us. I got offered a place in an exchange program with a group of officers in my force, it was to Europe and it went for no longer than two weeks, but when I got back Tae was…”

“He was gone,” you finish for him when he can’t, raising your hand to wipe the singular tear cascading down his smooth cheek. Jimin sniffs and smiles at you, turning to bury his face into your hair and letting out a large, heavy exhale.

“I sold the flat after many nights of just crying and breaking down,” he mumbles softly into your head. “I still don’t know where he went, but I also didn’t want to exploit my access to citizen information to find out. I think that’s when my passion for the force started to die down, though it took years for me to finally have the guts to leave. Nothing’s fair in this godforsaken world.”

It was a harsh and negative outlook, but you found yourself agreeing to a certain extent. Here you were, the epitome of optimism and ‘bright side’ herself, wanting to watch the world burn for just a second. Just like your family had.

You cringe at your own line of thought. “It’s our job to make it better-”

“Don’t even say it (Y/n), I swear to God,” Jimin warns playfully, cupping you cheeks in both palms and squishing them until your lips open and close like a fish. His eyes sparkle with adoration, and you whine out in protest against his actions before you can get lost in them.

“I’m just saying!”

“Don’t just say! Let me be emo for once you fool.” He tackles you onto the couch, spirits steadily rising from the depressing venture into his memories. Feeling light and as unburdened as a feather, he pins you down and tickles your sides mercilessly.

You miss the warmth of his comforting hugs but can’t help shrieking in laughter as you let it happen. You’re happier seeing him happy anyway.

Before things can escalate further, a disapproving meow interrupts the two of you, and you both whip your heads to the side to see Ghost sitting in the middle of the room. Her tail twitches in annoyance, and her face seems to be screaming ‘are you lumbering idiots done yet?’.

“Wow, a whole mood-killer. Maybe we should clean up the kitchen, actually,” you suggest while trying to catch your breath, grateful for the reprieve. Jimin’s eyes flit back to meet yours, and you catch the dark look he’s giving you. He knows you’re just trying to escape him right now.

“Fine, but don’t go thinking you’re off the hook even for a second.”

~

Weeks fly by after your emotion-packed, train-wreck of a night. If anything, it only drew you and Jimin closer than ever. You now had another layer to your friendship, another reason to stick together through thick and thin.

Jimin had attended around three hydrotherapy sessions with Mandu, and to your delight, it actually seemed to be working well! The dog would definitely soon be right on track to return to his former glory, minus the slight greying around his muzzle from old age. There only seemed to be one problem though…

Mandu was shit scared of water.

Every single time, the poor canine would whine and yelp for his owner as if he were legitimately dying. You could only watch on in amused silence, pursing your lips to hold back a cackle as your best friend had to bend down at the pool’s edge in order to calm the dog down.

The staff members working at the specialist pool were understanding at least, but that didn’t stop Jimin’s cheeks from flushing with embarrassment every single time.

“Buddy please, you’ve literally chased down killers and jumped over an entire ravine before. Some water won’t kill you!”

It fell on deaf ears, and Mandu howled extra forcefully in defiance. You couldn’t hold back your snort of laughter this time, the scene of the heated argument between dog and owner way too funny to let slide. Jimin throws a betrayed look at you over his shoulder, grumbling something under his breath you can’t quite catch.

In the end, some of the more patient staff members manage to coax the shaky dog into the water, and it’s with great struggle that they finally manage to get him swimming properly. Jimin has to stay within the dog’s line of sight 24/7, even one moment away and Mandu would start thrashing about and yipping in a panic.

You laugh at Jimin the entire time as you stand back to watch, the looks he sends you in return having ‘traitor’ written all over them. If he didn’t have to stay dutifully by the poolside, you’d be in your right mind to believe he’d storm over and kick you into next week for being so bratty.

“You just need to practice. Get him used to it,” you tell him once you’re all leaving the facility, a freshly dried pooch trotting beside you with fur sticking up in all directions. You can’t help but think the dog reminds you of Jimin like this, back when he’d rushed to the clinic in all kinds of disarray.

“Used to it? Did you see him in there!?” Jimin splutters, squatting down to hold Mandu’s face sternly between his palms. The dog remains unbothered as he flashes you a side-eye for assistance.

“Yes I saw. I’m surprised police dogs don’t spend more time training in water, to be honest,” you muse thoughtfully, reaching down to ruffle Mandu’s ears in reassurance. “It’s okay baby boy, you’re not alone,” you coo, smiling when the dog’s tail wags twice in response.

“Baby b…” Jimin trails off, clearing his throat consciously after feeling heat crawl up his neck at the pet-name.

“Anyway, it’s been a few sessions and he hasn’t quite got the hang of it. Why don’t we try spending some time in the water outside of sessions too?” you suggest cheerfully.

“Where? I don’t have a pool.” Jimin cocks an incredulous brow. There’s no way any public pool in these parts would let some random dude and his dog splash around and dirty their space.

You step up and poke Jimin firmly in the chest with one finger. “Did you just never look out the back of my place?”

“You have a pool? What in the hell-”

Jimin’s mouth hangs open in outrage. Even after all this time, he really hadn’t noticed it even once? You had to be fucking with him. “No way.”

“Uhh, yes way? Dude all you had to do was look outside.” You rest your hands on your hips, definitely unimpressed right now but trying your best not to laugh at him too much. He’s already been the butt of all your jokes today. Every single one.

Jimin has to see it for himself to believe it, so the next evening he pulls up to your home with Mandu in the passenger seat. The poor baby is blissfully unaware of the fate that awaits him here, but Jimin only feels the sweet, sweet taste of revenge on his tongue at the notion. After the hell Mandu had put him through these past few weeks, it was time to get payback.

“C’mon boy,” he sniggers. An evil grin stretches across his face and figurative crimson devil horns poke out from his hair.

“How dare you take advantage of him and his inability to be human,” you drawl lazily from the now open front door, and Jimin jumps in his skin from the shock. He hadn’t even made it to the damn porch and you’d already heard him.

“He deserves the slander.”

You shake your head and lead the duo inside, instantly groaning when Ghost and Mandu begin hissing and snarling at each other like their toes have been stepped on. Your fluffy white cat has all her hackles raised in hostility, and the dog in return has his lips drawn back to reveal a row of sharp white fangs.

You’re at your wits end, and similar to the other few instances of Mandu and Ghost meeting, you stomp your foot and stand over the pair as menacingly as you can. “You two are acting like complete animals right now, calm down or you’re going into timeout!”

When the two pets actually shut up, Jimin guffaws with no restraint. You simply huff, as if expecting that your threats would work regardless, and gesture to the glass sliding door adjacent to the kitchen. “It’s out there, are you happy now?”

Jimin cranes his neck and lo and behold, there it is in all its glory. A fucking pool. And to top it all off, it’s even surrounded by a towering black metal fence and gate, as if Jimin didn’t feel stupid enough for not noticing it already.

“So who was wrong and who was right?”

“Shut up.”

The two of you get ready to begin your little ‘home brand’ hydrotherapy session, with Jimin already donning swim trunks in case he has to jump in and intervene at any point. The pool is already much deeper than he’d anticipated, considering the ones at the actual therapy centre were nice and shallow for the dogs in rehab.

You’re dressed in a similar manner, with small tight shorts and a black t-shirt that’s so long it almost hides the fact that you’re wearing pants at all. Jimin has to keep his gaze controlled from raking up the expanse of your bare legs. He wonders if you’d somehow planned to get him all hot and bothered, seeing as it was a warm Spring night that was perfect for taking a dip.

“Okay, well he already seems spooked at the sight of water. You’re going to have to get in,” you say apprehensively, eyeing the way Mandu is already shifting anxiously from paw to paw. You’re all stood beside the shallow end of the pool, the gate fastened shut in case the dog tries to make a break for it suddenly.

Jimin coaxes Mandu forward with soft words of support and praise, taking the steps one at a time. It’s obvious how much the canine is hating this, his ears are pinned flat to his head and his knees are wobbling from the fear. Your heart is shot through with pity for the animal, but he needs to get better at this.

“Here, I’ll help,” you mumble, getting to your feet and stepping into the pool behind the jittery dog. With Jimin pulling him forward by his shoulders, and you urging him onwards from behind, it doesn’t take long for him to start doggy-paddling around. You help Jimin monitor his movements, checking for any signs of discomfort but finding nothing as Mandu works to keep his snout above water.

“I think he’s less nervous because it’s just us,” Jimin comments, a wide smile on his face at seeing his boy paddle around calmly. No frantic thrashing, no barking, no outbreak of chaos as usual.

“Funny that,” you breathe out with a chuckle. The waterline comes up to around your chest at this height, and you shiver as the cool liquid brushes against the underside of your bra. “I can’t go much further, all my underwear’s gonna get wet.”

The innuendo is essentially fresh bait, and you already know you’ve set yourself up nicely just before Jimin chuckles. “Right, why don’t you just go back and take a cold shower then huh?”

“Literally fuck you.”

“I thought you didn’t want to get wet?”

You gape at his bold humour, not used to the suggestive way he’s eyeing you as he leads his innocent dog around in the pool. If you were being honest, the ideas he’s putting into your head are absolutely sinful to say the least.

“What if I do?” you scoff, and two seconds later you’re plunging deeper into the refreshing coolness of the water before Jimin can even clap back with something lewder. You’re completely submerged, and for some reason Mandu begins to panic slightly when you vanish from sight.

“Woah, it’s okay she’s not drowning,” Jimin hushes in a serious tone, making sure to support the dog’s body with both arms as the animal treads through the water with powerful kicks of his hind legs. You resurface further down, hair now completely wet and sticking to your head uncomfortably.

“Hey, he got scared for you just then,” Jimin calls out. You feel a tug on your heartstrings and swim back down to the shallower part of the pool.

“Aw, Mandu was worried for me? What happened to hating my guts for stealing Jimin?”

Jimin gives you a weird look at that. “Stealing me? Jesus, do I just exist to be passed around by you guys?”

“Maybe.” You giggle. Something about the assertive way you act has Jimin feeling hot all over, and he’s reminded yet again that it’s a quality of yours he’s come to find madly attractive.

Or maybe it’s just the fact that your basically halfway naked not even a metre away from him. He can’t even focus on the task at hand when he gets a full view of your soaked t-shirt, and how the outlines of your rounded chest are now completely visible to his watchful eyes.

He can’t help but gulp at the thoughts running through his mind. “Hey, how long has it been now? Think that’s about one session’s worth for today.”

“Right, it probably is. Good progress! I might stay out here for a bit though, it’s super hot and my air conditioner basically cracked the shits last night.”

Jimin climbs out of the pool, the hem of his shirt soaked but luckily everything above that dry as a bone. He grabs a towel and dries Mandu off, whispering praises of how well he did to swim properly today. Once he’s done, he opens the gate and lets the dog out to run around your somewhat spacious backyard. Jimin has to look away in disdain, because he knows it won’t be long before his buddy starts rolling around and making himself filthy again.

Jimin returns his gaze back to you, and he stifles a laugh when he sees you randomly floating on your back in the middle of the pool, limbs splayed out like a starfish. You look dead to the world, but honestly, he can’t blame you. It is rather hot for a Spring night.

He barely even thinks about his actions before he’s peeling the shirt from his back. His honey blonde hair becomes tousled from the movement, and he throws away the piece of clothing without batting an eyelid.

As for you, well, now you’re stressed.

Sure, you knew he was an ex-police officer. You knew he worked out daily and took care of himself unbelievably well. Sure, you were happy to just close your eyes and pretend like you weren’t ogling the heck out of him right now, but it just wasn’t happening.

He was absolutely beautiful; you could even say carved from marble and it wouldn’t be much of a stretch. It was difficult not to gawk at the smooth way his muscled arms and shoulders tapered down into a gracefully cinched waist, not to mention the nice set of washboard abs and delicious V-line that has your mouth very nearly watering. You remind yourself to ask him later what the large ‘Nevermind’ tattoo stretching along his ribcage means.

“Wow, you could have some shame.” He flashes you that shit-eating grin, but frankly, you’re just ecstatic that he seems to be so confident in his own skin. Once upon a time throughout your friendship, he would have never been this comfortable around you.

“What, am I not allowed to appreciate what you’re showing me? You could’ve easily just left the shirt on,” you complain loudly, rolling over to lay face down in the water in hopes that it would douse the heating of your rapidly burning cheeks. With your eyes and ears underwater, you only feel the ripples hit your skin as he jumps in to join you.

You lift your head and gasp for air, catching sight of him swimming towards you rapidly. “Wait, what are you doing!?” You barely get to shout before he’s picking you up and throwing you back down into the water with a tremendous splash, loud laughter booming from his chest as you scream and struggle in his grip.

“Jimin I swear-”

You cut yourself off by sweeping a massive wave of water in his direction with both arms, grinning wickedly as it smacks him straight in the face. He wipes at his eyes and shakes his head, much like a dog would, and you vaguely register Mandu’s barks of excitement from somewhere out in the yard.

“I’m getting you back for that,” Jimin grunts, and you feel your stomach squirm as he starts moving towards you again.

“No, no, no! Okay I’ll be good, leave me please!”

Your pleas are left unheard as you try to escape from his grasp, but he’s too quick and too strong to evade. Your legs kick up into the air helplessly as he dunks you again, and once you finally resurface, he’s already got you in his hold. “Stop, I can’t compete with you, you beefcake.” You purse your lips and blow a raspberry of pool spittle into his face, struggling within his arms in fear that he would start throwing you again, or even worse … tickle you.

Your loud wails and shrieks of laughter had filled the air for the past ten minutes or so, but you were obviously weaker than he was, and you both knew you were going to tire out much faster. So, to your pleasant surprise, he stops teasing you and simply holds you by the waist, high enough that your entire head and neck are above water.

“You’re absolutely ruthless,” you grumble, bringing your hands up to rest on his bare biceps for support. You marvel at the way the lean muscles flex underneath your fingers as he shifts you to be more comfortable.

It’s so very hot, and you can’t help but notice the heat licking at your abdomen the longer you stay locked in this position. Your legs wrapped around his torso, and his face is just above the line of your soaked chest. You just thank God you hadn’t chosen to wear a white shirt at this point.

“Yeah, well you’re just fun to mess with,” he finally responds after a few moments of slowly floating around the pool’s edge. You smile warmly down at him and use both your hands to comb back his dripping hair with your deft fingers. Once again, you’re stunned into silence at how attractive he truly is. Especially when he looks at you like that.

Wait, why is he looking at you like that?

His handsome eyes are dark, and lidded. He’s smirking at you just as he always does, but this time there’s something different. The air around you changes. It feels … charged.

He’s not done, shockingly, and he continues to back you up until you feel the edge of the pool press into your back ever so slightly. He then lets you down to stand on your own two feet now that it’s shallow, your toes brush the pool tiles suddenly and the feeling elicits a small jump of surprise.

He’s closer than he’s ever been, and you feel your breath hitch at the feeling of his bare chest brushing against the material of your saturated bra. His hands come up to trace the line of your waist again, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.

“Jimin,” you sigh, looking up at him through your lashes. Your hands have a mind of their own at this point, and they find themselves tracing the lines of his dripping arm muscles once more. His eyes are staring into your own, burning with a heat and a desire you know all too well.

He wants you, right now.

You immediately cave in, feeling your thighs squeeze together as he descends upon your lips. The kiss is somewhere in between sensual and ravenous, with both your lips parting almost simultaneously in pleasant surprise. He lifts one hand from your hips to tangle into the wet hair at the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him as he melds his lips together with yours.

God, you’ve pined after him for so long that you somehow forgot what the feeling was called. You moan softly into the kiss and feel his lips quirk into a smile. He immediately knows just how badly you’d been craving this, and honestly, he’s been thinking about the exact same thing for months now. You both just needed some kind of hot situation to force you together, to give you the confidence to finally take the chance.

“You don’t know how long I’ve just wanted to have you like this,” Jimin says in a low voice, pulling back to catch his breath and rest his forehead upon yours for a moment. Your heart is going absolutely crazy in your chest, and you bring both your hands up to cup his face gently.

“I’ve wanted you since we met in that damn park, can you beat that?” You hum sweetly.

His eyes widen immensely, but then soften in a warm realisation. “Okay, I think you got me there. It’s been a couple of months though. Wow, the park? Really?”

You nod, and he lifts his hand to cover yours over his cheek. His eyes are swimming with a love so deep and profound, you just want to kiss him silly. “Yeah, I mean I don’t think I fully realised it until later on. I was happy to just keep that crazy good friendship of ours, but then I knew all along I was in deep,” you say candidly.

Jimin kisses you again long and hard. “Shit, I think I’m gonna say it. I love you. God I love you so, so much.”

You could almost cry at the heartfelt confession. His smile is blindingly bright, and his eyes are positively gleaming with happiness. You realise then that they weren’t tired anymore. Perhaps they hadn’t been for a while now.

“You saved me, (Y/n). You literally brought me out of a dark place I never thought I’d get to leave.”

“Stop you’re going to make me...”

‘I’m serious,” he murmurs, lifting your face with his thumb and forefinger to catch your overwhelmed expression.

You peck his cute little nose. “I know you are, and the same goes for you! You were always there when I needed you, Jim. I love you so fucking much, it hurts.”

He laughs airily, chest feeling light and fit to burst from your requited affections. He can’t believe that for once, this cruel world had decided to give him something nice for a change. He was … actually allowed to keep you?  

At the same time, you’re positively brimming with relief and pure bliss. You jerk forward and catch him in a needy kiss mid-laugh, silencing all your nerves and disbelief as he returns it passionately. You squeak in surprise when he lifts your body – with ease, you might add, thanks to his physique – to sit up on the edge of the pool.

He continues to trail his lips along your skin as you hold him tight, and you love the way he handles you so carefully as if you’ll break in his palms if he’s somehow too rough. You simply can’t wait to see his face when you tell him you like it that way.

As he moves to your neck, you snake your arms around him and drag your nails down his back sensually, needing to feel him against you to prove that this is happening, that this is real and not some kind of dream.

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he groans, nibbling at the juncture of your neck and sucking harshly at the skin there. The contrast of the cool droplets of water clinging to your body as they meet his hot languid tongue has you shivering all over.

You can’t get enough of his lips, and you’re all but suddenly finding out just how skilled he actually is with his mouth. Tiny lustful whimpers fall freely from your throat as his hands move from your neck down to your breasts, and when he begins to brush his fingertips over your nipples through the shirt and bra with a broken groan, you just about lose it.

“Jimin, I want to feel you,” you choke out, pulling him as close as the edge of the pool will allow. Thankfully, it’s shallow enough on his end that he can still reach up to your face, and you instantly take advantage of your height boost to wrap your legs around his body.

You tilt his chin upwards towards you with one finger and part your lips, instantly feeling his tongue slide fervently past them into your mouth. It’s such a forward and sultry manoeuvre that you lose yourself in the pure unadulterated heat of the moment. God, you’ve never been so turned on in your life.

His hands, which had fallen to brace himself on the concrete tiles on either side of your hips, now find purchase on your bare dripping wet thighs. You can’t suppress a shudder when he digs his fingers into those too, tracing circles with his thumbs to let you know where he’s going with this.

You pull away from his irresistible lips with a gasp. “What are you..?”

He smirks, mouth all swollen from your teeth and tongue, eyes pinning you down with a dark gaze full of salacious longing. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anything hotter, until he growls, “I wanna take you right here, right now,” with a lick of his lips and downward glance of his eyes.

You’re left speechless, and before you can muster up anything to say in response, he’s hooking his arms underneath your knees and parting your shaky thighs slowly. He angles you closer to the edge of the pool, and you want nothing more than to just be under him. “Oh God. Jimin we should go inside.”

He looks like he’s about to argue, but then a flurry of wild barking and panting causes both of you to whip your heads around. There stands the source of the noise in question, all covered in grass and weeds from romping around your yard, and it bounds incessantly around the towering pool fence.

He’s watching you both excitedly and demands your undivided attention with another yap. If you had to take a wild guess as to what the dog wanted, it would be that he wishes to join in with his family’s little ‘wrestling’ match rather than being locked outside in the lonely backyard. You and Jimin exchange a look.

“Yeah, not in front of Mandu.”

“Never in front of him.”

You both grab your towels and scamper inside like two horny teenagers, very naked and afraid, but still laughing the entire way at your predicament.

Safely within your walls and locked away from the innocence of animals, you pick up where you left off beside the pool. The haphazardly tossed pieces of wet clothing and damp footprints throughout the house are soon forgotten when Jimin gets you in between your sheets. It doesn’t take long for him to have you screaming his name well into the night, and you’re sure that by the end of it, his lips and tongue have touched almost every inch of your body.

That’s not to say you didn’t have a fair go at him too, because when you wake in the morning to turn and see your hickeys scattered across his bare neck and stomach, you swear you’ve never felt more satisfied in your life. Yes, he’d proven himself to be quite a little switch in the making, and you feel positively giddy at the prospect of getting so much more time with him to find out exactly where that might lead.

He was yours and you were his. Together, you had something truly marvellous.

He turns his head with a grunt and catches you admiring his sleeping form. The resulting dazzling smile that splits his face leaves you positively breathless, just as every other aspect about him does.

“Morning,” you both mumble at the same time, and while you scrunch your face up in an endeared cringe, Jimin just laughs sweetly at the clumsiness between you. He moves over to plant the softest of kisses to your forehead, and you cuddle into his side like it’s your designated space to reside until the end of time.

In lieu of the family-shaped hole you’d been carrying with you your whole life, there now appeared a Jimin-shaped puzzle piece slotting into place.

And with that, you could ask for nothing more.

 ~

~

 Somewhere in the distant night, a young man taps his finger on the steering wheel of his car as he speeds along the eerily quiet highway.

The late hour does nothing to deter him, and he fights back the drowsiness threatening to pull him under as the road falls away beneath the tyres. He’s been driving for hours, but he persists without rest and soldiers on, full of purpose. Every time he feels a shred of doubt begin to linger in his mind, he glances over to the wrinkled photo resting on his dashboard and the initial burst of vigour returns.

He runs a hand through his long, curly black hair and eyes the photo again. The smiling faces look back at him, and he immediately wonders for the millionth time if he truly is doing the right thing here. The turn-off sign whizzes by his car window, and he realises that now is his last chance to change his mind.

He can keep living a peaceful life if he just continues straight past without looking back, but there’s no way he can do that. He can’t fail his only remaining family any longer.

He veers for the turn-off, taking a deep breath and reaching forward to brush a finger against one of the smiling faces in the roughly crinkled photo. It’s final, he’s made his decision.

I’m coming home. 

.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵  

TO BE CONTINUED

Copyright © 2020 by salade. All rights reserved.