#looks at the wall of text in tags ah fuck i did it again. SHUT IT DOWN

[lovesickeros]

This is a little out of the blue, but I genuinely really enjoy hearing your tsaritsa lore and character breakdowns. She's hasn't been someone I'm terribly invested in getting to know as a character, but reading your thoughts on her has really piqued my interest. I've never considered what being the goddess of love could mean I guess

Anyway, all this to say I've been really enjoying your tsaritsa/fatui hype :) it's contagious

THIS IS SO GOOD TO HEAR i love going into deep dive breakdowns of characters especially ones who don't really have a lot of content, because it provides wiggle room for a lot of interpretations. not that i can blame you for not being too invested in her, considering we've never actually seen her, and only hear about from a few sources (venti, who doens't really say much, and childe + arle who also technically dont say much in the grand scheme of things but understanding their characters to see how it changes their view of the tsaritsa and where it overlaps is a good chunk of it)

so its my job to do what hoyo doesn't and hype the hell out of her /j. ive been writing her since i joined sagau around when it first started snowballing into popularity i dont think i could leave if i tried

[delicatebluebirdruins]

the last hours spoilers below the cut

thoughts as i read Chain of Thorns so spoilers duh and it got long so under a read more (also as a safety measure against spoilers and tumblr tags not working) feel free to chat with me about it

In april i will change the tags to something more general (I say April because not all versions of the book are out yet I think Italy doesn’t get their editions until March so)

James honey tell your Dad.

Matthew fight me and get help outside of Cordelia asking you not to drink in Paris

did i mention how much i hate the misunderstanding of chain of iron? yeah still hate it... quick moment

much better

honest about his love for Grace for the love of god Cordelia

Matthew is not keeping to his promise is he? one way or another he is up to something and I don’t like it

23 lmao Will same Magnus i can’t believe it either and lmao James “I haven’t not since last Thursday“

why is Grace arrested? was she arrested? I very vaguely recall her admitting to the shenagins

i love Kamala by the way I hope she goes back to her true name... what was the letter

Lucie is up and atom

*through gritted teeth* what good reason? to dislike Allistair? *eyes twitch*

Thomas’s note *clutches heart* I want to watch that scene in 10 things i hate about you again but also lmao i think the message would get to who its addressed to

Tatiana can fight me... poor Grace

oh Malcolm

Jessamine mention!!!!. finally adults knowing what do. Aww Will singing to James in rusty welsh

back to Matthew and Cordelia *grits teeth* ohh poor faeirie having to deal with this shit. Cordelia admitting that Matthew and Allistair don’t like each other and I loathe it, I loathe her not defending her brother

MADAME DOROTHEA???? oh the waking up theme is back (Madame channeling Elias). wow fun

Malcom don’t steal food... I feel uncomfy please for the love of god grab the poker and impale me with it... Dad has arrived

No you won’t conquer the pain in Paris Matthew. It wouldn’t be that easy to overcome pain WITHOUT THE ONES CAUSING YOU PAIN

.... the truth will out with the Herondale family reunion (Tessa is there we just don’t see her as she’s yelling at Malcolm) and Magnus being upset at not being asked for help as he is the warlock they usually annoy first lmao i love him

73 yes be proud of Jesse “the last bulwark of Englishman under stress. Tea? he suggested“ lol Malcolm

ah the letter Kamala found was blackmail... towards Charlotte maybe?

80 laughing hysterically

Jem is here.... Allistair! i knew the note would be read

97 Matthew are you sure you’re not a idiot

a good plan i suppose... good old Ezekiel

Alexander Bridge (another song coming on)

110 FINALLY SOME DEMONS... fuck off both of you (also I thought Matthew got bitten by the demon?)

Aw Kit/ Christopher best boy

yay back to this hell and now James is here (also looked at later at art so accidently spoiled myself to some dark haired guy wearing a crown)

Thomas I love and LMAO Will and Magnus best bros

I knew Matthew was lying... can i bang Cordelias head off a wall? Oh James... Eugenia! I missed you baby

I don’t wanna go back to Cordelia... yes it was as painful as expected

Matthew shut up. James use your fucking words

Magnus I love you... I wish I was Balios right now

Jesse’s “helpful fellow called brother Zachariah“

Cordellia is annoying me

tell it like it is Allistair they are idiots

@ James (image id: GIF of the Genie from Aladdin in front of white board reading tell her the truth)

I love you Allistair and Risa never leave me with these three again (Magnus, Efffie and Eugenia as well)

Oh Christopher I love you, Thomas yay

actual footage of Cordelia getting Allistair into the carriage

image id: dog on a leash being dragged text around it reading “um no/no mean no/ do not want/ heard you say vet/ wow no/ such abuse/ um wtf r u doing/ not wow/ so forceing“ end id

185 Cordelia and Matthew not planning on saying anything yet why

good idea Allistair and plans on how to find out who is being blackmailed. hatred of ducks is a noble cause

BRIGDET I LOVE YOU

Will is being great embarresing James and scolded by Tessa for quoting Charge of the Light Brigade at the table

I like Jesse I think, lemon drops? lemon drops

Albert Pangborn is great... Lucie you’re making me feel cold and Cordelia i know you are going through it but why

With Jesse and Lucie I am kinda hoping for a Pushing Daisies scenario

Oh Kamala why lie to yourself... Poor Grace kinda... 231 happy place Christopher and Alistair talking about books and languages (showing their brain works)

new day

Jesse spill the beans?

yay back with Cordelia *sigh*... poor Jesse.... No Cordelia you do not know what you saw you are a coward who is certain what you saw was the whole truth and nothing but the truth

would love to see the full evil vanity set it has to exist I won’t accept other wise

i do like Hypatia and Jesse is great... Hi Winston and Ari and Aratia is pretty so back to calling her this then

poor Oscar he is such a good boy

James good with words? I am not so sure

I am scared of Tatiana... but also every single time (image id: screenshot from Lion King 2 Simbas Pride song My Lullaby)

Beliel is making zombies apparently

so close yet so far... lmao Effie

308 if you spoke to your wife you’d know... I thought Letty be possessed good job me

312 Christopher deserves the world honestly. Go on Grace do the things

aww Mama Tessa, never shut up Thomas you’re great to be with. aw Mama Sona... the fear of god that Malcolm just experiences is priceless and relatable

laughing at the things like the weapons tree

parents what to do? oh chatting and we came so close. Also Esme i love you

Anna and Ari finally got that dance

FOR FUCKS SAKE this is the bad place... no its not Alistair and Thomas almost kissed but got interupted by Cecily screaming

FUCK OFF TATIANA AND EVERYONE LISTENING TO HER

it would also cast more suspicion to be honest

pick up a rock or something Cordelia, poor baby Alex and I DO NOT TRUST this

poor denzins of the Cornwall Institute

Alistair was not wrong and not to bring up lion king 2 again but not one of us? fits kinda well

FUCK YOU CHARLES!!!! FUCK OFF BRIDGESTOCK

go on Ari, Jem is bae and I love you guys

Charles might be the one being blackmailed and yes he is a pompous git

Lucie saw Edom I think

please not on the staircase think of your back it would hurt i imagine

what did the door knob do to you (reread that section oh it was jammed) still poor door knob

yeah big bath tubs for the win (dream home item big bath tub and swimming pool if i can’t live by the sea/ sea where it is private then i will have to make do)... oh no the adults are leaving

poor Effie can’t wait to see her opinions on everything

also side note last book James was pracitcally begging Cordelia to top him will that make a return?

aww Grace and here is Tatiana of course who i can’t wait to see die... what is going on

come Matthew tell them, James told them about Grace its your turn

Christopher is too good for this world

Matthew fight me (i was actually warming to him and now its two steps back)

lets go help Charlie. Go on Alistair (update i’ve been tabbing as i go and i am running out of pinks)

I love them feeling about conflicted about Grace and her actions... Grace is here and lets go zombies (or guys from black cauldron?)

there is so much kissing and so many characters

and lets go face Tatiana.. oh wow possession is every where apprently

go on Lucie do what needs to be done which is summon RUPERT buddy I missed you

Grace why are you following your “mother”... hi Lilith

CHRISTOPHER NO

I saw this picture in the run up it is really cool (side note i do like the illustrations my favourites being the blackstairs beach kiss in queen of air and darkness though- also if TWP does not start with the Clace wedding that we have two full chapters of I will sue)

Tatiana is dead? yay... but Christopher no

poor lady under the milkcart... poor people being possessed by Beliel

oh wow Beliel is... yeah this is a lot

James is going with Beliel, and Beliel took Matthew as well good grief

Lmao the title for the next chapter is Intermission: Grief

what if the escape route is a lie? what if its a trap?

new day?

490 Winston is a pretty bird, Oscar what is it puppy? oh it was planned thank god

girl talk time and James/ Matthew being in Edom is so funny to me for some reason

thomas watering the fairchild plants, watered my plants and cleared my skin

Carstair siblings rise!

Jessamine you good?

sup Lilith... if beliel dies by Cordelia’s blade this is strange wording

I love Jesse and Graces dynamic actually

yes destroy the wound

Anna what’s up?... good point

finally the truth comes about Matthew part 2/ bye Carbos it was fun I will remember you next time I read TMI

I want Christopher back (564 I ran out of pink)

They did! they got the fire messages working! I am so proud

oh Lucie, hi Filomena and are we going to be told this plan?

ahh Beliel wants to crown himself and all I can think is this image

Image id: Queen Elizabeth the 2 and text from christopher eccleston reading “parasite in chief in her idiot hat“

Go on Charlie *pumps fist*

I love you Eugenia

Statues attack and I am out of green tabs

stay safe everyone... Lucie what do?... aw Anna and Ari

Bridget is god and you can’t change my mind

I did think that wording was strange... bye Lilith see you later

herongraystairs mention... JEM YOU ARE OWED A FAVOR FROM BELIEL I have so many questions like does he still have it in SoBH? will he have it TWP? is this thing something I kinda remember being Ghosts of the Shadow Market? (its been awhile okay)

Aw Alastair I forgot you were blonde for a bit... good for you bud

oh so this is how the things got in the coffin like the gun Christopher made for James :(... I hope the locksmith recovered the bullet from it

Alastair the best big brother

(I didn’t put this in my physical notes so I don’t know where it fits in but i am so glad Matthew told his family)

666 Malcolm is here for a chat and it went well

OSCAR GOT A MEDAL!!!

Eugenia remains the best...  croquet lmao yes

image id: screenshot of Pall Mall scene from Bridgerton season 2

I like the ending

bonus story: love you Jem... I cannot imagine why people would be twitchy at seeing the robes of Silent Brothers (and I wonder if they feel the same?)... the ghosts made me tear up

random thoughts

- too many characters having povs just made it not work for me? especially when a few of them know things that others don’t (like the Gracelet and the fallout)

- Matthew grew on me which surprised me with how much he irritated me during Choi heck I downright hated him. And the same goes for Grace and Anna

- I don’t think I will ever like the love triangle

- scared for Charlotte and her pregnancy is going to be fun

- I wished we could have seen the trials for Wessa and Jesse (and other random scenes)

- because of things do i think we could potentially have something in between TLH and TMI? yes yes i do (i say things because its just the vibe I got from finishing it. I’ll get a better idea when i reread)

hello people who made it to the end of this long ass post go treat yourself with something nice

[noritoshiikamo]

lunch date

part 2 of this childhood friend drabble (ok fr frshould i name this childhood friend series or public sex series bcs hmm you'll see) pairing: gojo satoru + fem!reader genre: smut bcs i think with my hand down my pants when i see gojo tags//warning: established relationship public sex, gojo thinking with dick part 2, mention of breeding kink tagging: @unabashednightmarepizza @sukirichi @sassyeahhhh [lemme know if wanna be tagged in the next part] note: the obligatory trio of mine: unedited, lowercase intended, the obligatory trio of mine: not well edited, lowercase intended, english isnt my first language im sorry if i murder it.

“toru- ah, that hurts!”

his grip to her thighs tightened, “shhh, they can hear you.”

when gojo satoru suggested that they have lunch together, she happily accepted. she didn't suspected anything odd of his behavior. he was so kind to offer to bring her something over and she has been so stressed with her works, she just accepted it with no questions. it was the first text she’d replied after ignoring his many messages and calls.

it has been two weeks since the staircase incident and she started to suspect that he knew that she was actively trying to avoid him for almost a week. she knows gojo satoru like the back of her own hand, she knows he will not forget his promises, and he will hold against her until he gets it. their newly blossomed relationship was doing okay until he popped the question out so casually as she cooked. she couldn’t forget the look on his face.

“so, when are we going to have a baby?” his question that freaked her out lingered in her mind.

a baby

what was she thinking? she smacked her head on the table. “you could’ve asked for a house, or his black card, or something else. but a baby?” her voice strained.

“yes?” the hair on her back stood at the familiar deep voice.

she looked up so fast, her head spun to see her door opened wide. sara, her colleague stood with a slight frown on her face and on her side, gojo satoru. he wore teasing smile, traded his blindfold for his glasses and he looked different. he wore a white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up with a pair of black pants and boots. his outfit looked simple and minimalistic, but don’t be fooled. she knew his shirt costs about the same as her monthly rent.

i can’t believe i picked a baby over his black card, her mind cried at the thoughts.

“i’ve tried stopping him,” sara explained, a glare on her face. he interjected. “i don’t need appointment to see my girlfriend,” gojo stepped inside, holding the door. “girlfriend?” sara questioned. she couldn’t help but to feel satisfied at the reaction her assistant’s face held.

“she gave you, her number?” she asked, one night where he came over. the bed sheet wrapped around her bare body as her eyes raked up and down satoru’s own bare body as he leaned against the headboard. his eyes shut close with his arms flexed behind his head. a small satisfactory smile on his face as he said, “right after telling me that you like me.”

“that bitch,” she hissed, gritting her teeth.

“y/n chan,” his eyes opened, a teasing smirk grew on his face. he leaned forward, the blanket pooled around his waist as he cupped her face in his hand, “didn’t see you as a jealous kind.”

it wasn’t that fact that she was jealous that sara is actively into gojo. she was fuming at her assistant for divulging her personal matter to him. that part first, and then maybe she was a little jealous. but then, sara was the reason she finally gets the guy she’s been waiting for; so at the end she still wins. sara will remain a bitch for a reason.

“it’s okay, we are having lunch together. you can leave,” she dismissed her, rubbing her strained eyes. gojo happily slammed the door shut.

“so, wanna tell me why you’re avoiding me?”

she sighed, her fingers ghosting over the keyboard, his presence has disturbed her mind, “i’m not. i-i’m busy.”

he sat on her chair, crossing his legs as he rested his lanky body against the chair. “you can’t even look at me. what is it?” he asked. her finger stopped above the enter key. she wanted to press it, but she can’t. something is holding her back. she knew what he’s doing. she sighed in defeat and turned to face the elephant in the room. her brows frowned when she realised; “where’s the food?” she asked staring at the empty table.

“huh?”

“lunch? you told me we are having lunch?” she frowned. this idiot did not just suggest that they’ll have lunch together, show up at her office without the promised food. gojo looked at her sheepishly, a small smile on his face.

“oh, that. yeah, i just want an excuse to see you,” his small smile turned sinister as he lolled his head to the side, “you could be my lunch.”

her face pressed against the glass window overlooking the city. her floor wasn’t that high, they could see the streets bellow and the office in front of them. she repeatedly told him that they can’t do this. “they can see us,” she panicked, despite being delirious from his kisses as she let him unbutton her shirt. but a few kisses later, her skirt hiked up, panties in his pocket and his dick hitting her cervix roughly, she was convinced.

“you think you can come for me six times?” he heaved, lips against her bare shoulder, accentuating his words with his every thrust, “six for the amount of days you've ignored me. another five to go, buttercup. should be easy.”

his hand trailed down her chest, her belly until he found her neglected clit. a gentle tap of her bundle of nerves had her throwing her hair back. she was about to come undone; he could feel it from the way she was desperately clamping down on his length and her whining. tears streaming down her face as she bit down on her lips to hold herself from screaming, she could taste blood. her body shuddered, her sweaty skin leaving marks on the glass and the way he just mewled against her ears, praising her made her legs buckled.

he was quick to catch her, hands gripping her waist.

they moved to the desk, pushing all her files and pens aside as he laid her down. he showered her with kisses, slowly trailing them down to her cunt. he eyed her glistening slit, mouth watered. grabbing her legs, he held it open, she whined at the feeling of his warm breath ghosting over her. “satoru, i can’t,” she moaned at the first lick, her hand pressed on his head trying to get away, but he held her tight. “n-no more, ah fuck, fuck!” she could feel his eyes on her, watching her every reaction as his tongue worked their ways. the feeling on his teeth grazing her clit, the tip of her tongue teasing around her entrance, before slipping in.

she tasted so good; it was more pleasurable for him than her. she looked pretty squirming to get away as he held her tighter, tongue darting in and out. overstimulation was hitting her full force and she was high in pleasure. her brain couldn’t comprehend; between the feeling of his breath against her slit, his tongue fucking her, his calloused palms against her waist and the sound he was making. she didn’t give two fucks if the office heard them fucking.

“close, fuck, toru i want-” her words cut off by her own moan.

his tongue switched, sucking on her swollen clit as his finger took over the fucking. it didn’t take long for her to gush out. her head was pounding, his words went in one ear and out the another. he stood up, drools and her fluid covered his chin and onto his bare chest. he helped her sat, she was beyond exhausted. the feeling of his fingers brushing her hair back brought back to the office, she looked up to him with her eyes half drooped. a soft chuckle escaped his lips as he pressed it on hers. “you okay?” he whispered, planting kisses after kisses. “i miss you so much,” he cooed.

“miss you,” was all she could mustered out.

“did i scare you? with the baby talk?” he asked, pulling her in his arms. truth be told, seducing her into fucking in front of the glass window wasn’t the actual reason gojo was here. but her words were just so inviting, he doesn’t mind a little detour. she tasted delicious. she mumbled something against his chest, but he was sure it was a maybe.

“i thought you wanted it.”

she pouted, finally the first sentence her brain could scrambled, “maybe i change my mind.”

“that’s why you ran away from me? you’re scared?” he tilted her head up, his heart warmed at the little pout she had on, “oh buttercup, i won’t lie. the thoughts of you all round and milky with my child is turning me on-” not a lie, because she could feel his cock pressing against her slit, “but it’s okay. one day i’ll change your mind but for now, i’m fine with a little practise now.” she groaned against his lips as she felt his tip slipped in, stretching her once again.

this one was quicker, she was already sobbing mess, clutching desperately on his chest as he chased his high.

the deeper he pushed into her, the faster he had to circle her clit. he’s not a selfish lover, he wants her to feel as good as him too, despite being borderline torturous as she was clearly an overstimulated mess. “you’re so good to me,” he hummed, “you take me in so well. i love the way your tight cunt suck me in.” she really was, with mouth apart panting his name, eyelids drooped, and fingers dug into his flesh with legs apart.

she’s his good little girl.

she nodded, soft mewls could be heard through her pants. the wet kisses he was peppering her skin soon turned into a desperate attempt to leave a mark. she was beyond exhausted to berate him for doing it, so she learned to enjoy the feeling of his fangs against her flushed skin.

“toru, it feels so good,” she rolled her eyes back and he hummed in agreement.

gojo held her throat, not too harsh but not exactly gentle too, “it does, does it?” he grinned, “come, clench around my cock, y/n chan," he teased, in a sing-song tone, "i’m about to fill you up to the brim.” he tightened the grip, she whined. the way the walls tightening around him, had the world strongest’s sorcerer a moaning mess, as his hips snapped faster.

the sound of their skin slapping each other got louder and louder with the squelching of her cunt. his eyes rolled to the back of his head, as he forced his cock all the way inside, his thick seed shooting directly into her womb. his grip on her waist tightened, he was all choke up. they stayed in each other’s arm, struggling to catch a break.

he pinched her cheek for the fun of it, seeing her annoyed and bothered for his own personal pleasure. “what luck you have, y/n. falling in love with someone like me,” he brushed the tear stains on her cheek.

“who said i love you?”

he pressed his hand on his chest, faking the pained look on his face with an ouch. it was never an exchange of i love yous between them; it was him annoying the fuck out of her and her being constantly concern by his childishness. “would you still come home, y/n. i miss you so much, no lies.” he asked as he pulled his pants back up. "i will," she promised. he helped her off the desk, cleaning the mess they’d made and her chasing him around for her pair of panties. she never got it back, her face was as red as her stilettos as she made her way out of the office bare under her skirt. she could hear him snickering behind her.

“c-cancel the rest of my day please, sara. i have some business to take care off,” she glared at the white-haired man running toward the elevator. lunch time was over, and she was beyond fucked to continue her work. literally. not when gojo had made sure to give her the fucking of her life, she couldn’t focus on her work no more. sara gave her a glare, a dirty one, as she eyed her skewered hair and wrinkled clothes. she placed the files on her assistant’s desk, rushing as gojo held the elevator opened.

she made in, jumping instantly in his arms as the door closed. it was just two of them in the empty lift.

she giggled in his arms; his huge smile was contagious. he kissed her so gently, thumb on her back rubbing shapes. his smile grew wider as they pulled away. she tilted her head, confusion on her face and he nudged his head to the door. she turned around only to see their reflection on the elevator’s door. “look closer,” he whispered, and her eyes widened as she realised a trail of his cum, peaking out of her skirt down her legs. her face got even redder as she wasn’t sure if it had just happened or gojo has been letting her walk around with his cum down her legs.

“i’ll murder you, satoru.”

the lift suddenly halted. the number stopped at the ninth floor and she cursed. the lift wasn’t malfunction; she knew exactly what he was doing, and he wasn’t even trying to hide it.

“not going to lie, seeing my cum down your legs, it looks hot,” he said sheepishly, a kiss on her cheek while his hands already made their way underneath her blouse. his brows raised up suggestively.

“will you stop thinking with your dick, satoru?”

“you still owe me two more orgasm, buttercup.”

the light of the lift suddenly tripped, engulfing them in a pitch-black darkness. she jolted in his arms. the emergency light turned on and under the dimmed light, she could see his blue eyes on her like a predatory to its prey. she could feel her throat drying as a kiss landed on her neck.

“we better make our time worth.”

[mystic-sky]

Summary: Gojo sneaks into your dorm cause he sort of “misses” you. Oh, and Shoko’s there too.

Pairings: Gojo Satoru/reader/Shoko Ieiri

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings/Tags: Minors DNI, NSFW, threesome, cream pie. If you weren’t gay for Shoko before you will be after this.

yeah no one asked me for this lmaooo, but it’s Shoko loving hours✨

Shoko Ieiri is deep in sleep on your bedroom floor, surrounded by half eaten snacks and DVDs. After a girl’s night in, she felt too tired to walk just two doors down to her own room and crawl into her bed. So here she was, inhabiting your extra futon on a school night.

You’re dozing off just 2 hours past midnight. That is, until you heard a few light taps at your window. The sounds peck you out of your light slumber, making you groan and slide downwards underneath the comforter, assuming it’s a tree or a bird. The noise persists further, making you groan an even louder and irritated noise. Finally you sit up, crankily sliding out of bed. You stare at Shoko enviously, who is un-phased by the noise.

You slide the blinds open on the sliding doors, jumping back at the large frame peering back at you. You clutch your chest, before letting out a large heave, unlocking the glass pane door.

“You scared the living shit out of me,” you whisper-yelled.

Satoru leans against the doorway, staring back at you in baggy night clothes. “Yo.”

You’re staring at him with tired eyes.

“What the hell do you want?” You whisper.

“I missed you,” his hand reaches the back of your head, pressing a kiss to your forehead before casually brushing past you.

This was normal, you suppose. He’d snuck into the girl’s dorm at the school countless times to sleep with you. You both weren’t dating, only frisky classmates. You did however enjoy the spontaneous pop ups.

“Shoko’s here.” You say simply as he tosses his phone on your desk. “And you should’ve texted me.”

You’re still standing there with the patio door open, thinking he’d leave as soon as he saw her there.

“My bad,” he’s smiling cheekily at you. “And I couldn’t sleep, so I came here to spend the night.”

You sigh and shut the door, realizing he was definitely staying. You pull the blinds shut as he removes his sweatshirt and slides. He lets out a whine as he realizes what Shoko is sleeping on. 

“My futon...” he whines. He’s so bothered by it. He never slept on the thing either; you stole it from him a while back.

You aren’t worried about Shoko waking up in the morning to him in your bed, she’s seen it all before. She can hardly understand your infatuation with Satoru. But, she’s a pro at minding her business. A good friend overall, considering boys are forbidden from being in the girls dorm after hours. 

You ignore him, and brush past his lanky body to climb back into your bed. He follows, squeezing onto it with you. It was barely full sized— somehow still the largest in the girls dorm, resulting in majority of your hook ups to be in your room. Sometimes, Shoko would crawl in bed with you, and sometimes you two would do more than sleep together on school nights.

You’re so tired, so groggy as he snuggles into you. The deepest hum pours into your ear. His strong bare arms are intoxicating, the way they wrap around you like he needs you— but he doesn’t. He typically acts like he doesn’t need anyone actually, so when he clings to you like this it sort of throws you off. But you know he’s just indulging in human touch. It’s not such a serious thing to him. He’s such an airhead. You know he’d never actually go out with you. 

“You and Shoko had all the fun without me...” He whines it, and it’s pretty loud. He doesn’t care if she wakes up. He’s already hard and his length is stabbing your back. 

“We didn’t do anything,” you say simply. His hand slides up your shirt, and his finger tips are cold. They sting the flesh of your breasts, but your body’s so hot you don’t even flinch. “And your hands are freezing.”

One of your nipples harden into the center of his palm and he feels it, using his thumb and index finger to squeeze and pull at the thing.

“Ah, so I made the both of you wait long? I’m sorry.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all. You roll your eyes, and he can’t even see you do it but he laughs anyway.

“One day,” he purrs, and the sound is enough to send chills up your spine.

“Like she’d ever sleep with trash like you,” you scoff, turning around and wrapping an arm around his neck.

“Your jealousy is showing.” You finally get to see his toothy grin.

“Hardly,” you roll your eyes again. You don’t allow him to speak any more, pressing your tired lips against his. The movement is groggy— a sleepy lovers kiss of sorts if you’ve ever had one. He’s tired himself, but his ever growing bulge won’t let him rest in his own dorm. 

“A quick fuck, so we can sleep.” Satoru says the words so quickly, but he doesn’t miss your nod. 

“We have a 9AM,” you feel inclined to remind him about your class in the morning. Your hands are trailing up his back, feeling along the muscles.

He hums before sliding down beneath your comforter, disappearing from your side. His finger tips are warmer now, wrapping around the hem of your pants. You realize what’s happening, and shift your body to help him slide them down. His mouth is buried in your sex in seconds, making you grip the blanket above your head to watch him eat it beneath the covers. It’s not like you can see much though, but you love to hear the sound of his tongue on you. 

It’s a loud noise even though he’s muffled. You let out soft whimpers as not to wake Shoko. He loves to suck on your clit more than anything. He gives soft licks in between to relieve your center from the extreme stimulation but it doesn’t do much. The pattern edges you every time, and he does it on purpose. He says it makes you restless and a lot more needy for him.

He hums his mouth against your clit, making you roll your hips into him.

“Put it in already,” you’re teething at the edge of the blanket, but he hears you nonetheless.

He rises up, chin running a muck of juices with the blanket over his head like it’s a veil. It was weird how his eyes would ignite like that in the dark, like they were made of that glow in the dark fluid. The moonlight finally poured over the clouds, giving the room a bit of light.

“Pretty boy,” you say quietly, spreading your legs in front of him. 

“You think so?” He’s quick to lather up two fingers in his mouth before plugging them in you. He sits there, flicking upwards against the resisting flesh of your walls, making you wriggle in pleasure. 

“You’ll wake Shoko with a pussy this loud,” he’s immersed in the slick covering his hand with every motion. You head locks onto the girl on the floor whose back faces you both, shoulders rising and falling softly.

“Unless you wanna,” he withdraws his fingers from you, sucking tightly on them before releasing them with a pop. “Dirty girl.”

He’s sliding his raw length against you now, “So wet for me too.”

You’re bobbing your hips downward towards him, nibbling at your bottom lip, anxiously waiting to be penetrated. “Mhmm...” 

Disagreeing with him would only slow down the process.

“That’s right,” he’s hunching over you now, flicking his hard tip against your soaked cunt.

“Now gimme a kiss,” the taste of you is still prominent on his tongue as he cups your face to kiss you. He slides himself into you while still attached to your mouth, feeling your tongue and body contract from the penetration. He’s shuddering into you softly, sucking and pulling on your bottom lip. He gives you air after the first few plunges into your sex, forcing semi-loud sounds from your throat.

The feeling of his curved length is always welcome, stretching you out just right. He knows that you’re so whipped, no matter how much you ignore him at school or pretend to be annoyed with him. When he has you like this, drooling for him, he knows he could probably convince you to do anything. 

The sound of skin slapping skin was thankfully  muffled by the blanket over the both of you. The bed is creaking slightly as he speeds up. You and Satoru would make it a habit to fuck on the futon you took from him to avoid excessive noise at night. 

“I can’t go as fast as I want to,” he grits. He’s frustrated about noise all of a sudden. 

“You should’ve waited until tomorrow, now I’m all worked up. Hurry up and finish.”

“Believe me, I’m trying sweetheart.” 

“Do you both talk this much all the time when you do it?”

The futon speaks, or rather, the young woman now sitting upwards on top of it did. She’s rubbing her eyes and shifting from underneath her blanket. 

“For fucks sake,” she muttered. Satoru smirks wildly, making you slap his arm.

“Sorry Sho,” you say sheepishly. She hardly looks angry at you. Her own eyes are warm and tired as she crawls over to the edge of the bed right beside you.

“It’s okay,” the words are sweet like honey on her tongue. She’s never been angry at you for anything. Even in moments she probably should be. Her hair falls against your chest as she brushes her lips against yours, initiating a kiss. 

Her mouth is soft and feathery, and she doesn’t care for Satoru’s presence at all, inserting herself between you both with her kiss. You find yourself sitting up and kissing her back, even with him still between your legs.

Seeing you kiss someone else, especially having that someone be Shoko, was a different kind of attractive. Still inside of you, Satoru pumped slowly while she hung over the edge of the bed mouthing you off. A sweet moan from you poured into her mouth, her favorite sound, making her smile against you. 

She parts her lips from you, and the look you give her is so smothered and needy. You wanted her in this bed with you too.

“Please,” you whine to her. And she can’t think to say no because it’s you. 

“Of course,” she’s willingly removing her shirt for you. She’s confident about her body, stripping just for you. You nudge Satoru, who separates from you in order to make space for her. She climbs in beside you, making herself comfortable.

“Why don’t you sit back and watch for a bit,” her lips curl into a smile, using a single foot to push him back onto his knees. 

“Beat your cock or something, whatever men do,” she smiles smugly. He laughed deeply before nodding.

“Give me a show,” his voice is low when he says it, positioning himself at the end of the bed. He obediently starts stroking his length covered with your fluids. You on the other hand are waiting for something— anything to help yourself cum. Shoko feels you spread your legs as she presses her hot, bare breasts against your ribs. Her fingers are so slim and smooth, sliding between your folds to play in your slickness.

“Let’s show him how fast I make you cum,” she lowers her voice, blowing air into your ear. She spread goosebumps across your arms and legs, adding a kiss just beneath your ear. You nod loosely.

Her fingers rub delicate, rhythmic circles on your clit. Her mouth is on yours again, tonguing you down while he watches ravenously. Soft squeals pass through your lips while you roll yours hips at her silk touch. 

Two of her nimble fingers prod at your entrance while her tongue swirls around your own. You moan greedily, asking her to stimulate you further by using your body. 

She knows what you want, she always does. And that’s why she pumps them into you, curling at your center. With each curve of smooth padded fingertips against slick flesh, several sounds emanate throughout the room. Ragged breathing, ragged moaning, dick stroking, wet mouths— wet sounds.

Its a lude feeling, being watched like this. They both want nothing more than to ravish you, and you feel it through Satoru’s piercing arctic eyes and Shoko’s refined touch. She’s immersed in you, climbing half way over you while she continues to pump your sex. Her hard nipples irritatedly rub against yours while she pours her tongue into your mouth. She feeds off of your moans, humming back in affirmation. She knows you’re going to cum, you don’t have to say anything to hint at it.

Your cunt splashes against her palm while your body rolls against her. She pulls away to watch your eyes fall back. Sweet relief at last, you think, but she’s hardly done with you.

Shoko pulls her hand from your slimy cunt, laughing softly as she slides her tongue between the two sullied fingers.

“You got all that?” Shoko says, peering back at Satoru, who had been gritting his teeth at the two naked women in front of him.

“Mhmm,” he chuckles. “And are you questioning my ability to make her cum?”

He’s not actually offended, but he’d give anything to put this chick in her place. 

“You were talking a whole lot more than anything else.” She teases, now looking back at you. You’re panting at the two of them, twitching and aching for more like the spoiled brat you are. “Can you get up?” Shes asks.

You nod, pushing what you could of your upper body up. She runs both hands through her hair so confidently, she almost intimidates the both of you. “Good. And you’re gonna be on the bottom, since I can’t stand hearing you talk.” 

She says this without even looking at Satoru, moving over to allow him space to lay between you both. He chuckles, not really paying attention to the insult. “Optimizing the space? I get it now.” 

He lays back flat, arrogantly resting his head against his arms. “Choose your slot, ladies.” 

Shoko rolls her eyes, swinging her leg to hover her steaming sex over his face. You realize what’s happening as she opts you to straddle his lower half. You waste no time, sinking yourself onto his length and shuddering from the extra ripples of pleasure from your previous orgasm. You grip Satoru’s torso for support, nearly resting your head on Shoko’s shoulder. This prompts a moan from him, and the sound has this low growl in it. You clench yourself around him, soaking in the feeling some more.

Shoko wants to see your face while you rock against his length. She pushes your body up, and her eyes are soft on you. You were truly what she craved. Your weak and furrowed brows, your needy expression— everything about you made her ache. She takes your bruised lips in for a wet kiss, sucking on your bottom lip.

“You’ve got a pretty pussy,” Satoru says, blowing cool air against Shoko’s glistening slit.

“All the more reason for you to shut up and eat it,” she parts her lips from yours for only a second to say this. You feel her lower her cunt onto his tongue as she deepens your kiss. He chuckles again. 

“You’re so mean Shoko...” he fake whines. He wraps his mouth around her drenched clit, sucking on it as if he had something to prove. The repeated sucks force a loud moan from her lips and the sound pours onto your own. The song of his scorching tongue against her sex finds your ears, making you rock on onto his sex more with far more need than before.

He’s humming delightedly against her as her slickness pours down his throat. He releases his suction and replaces it with consecutive licks, giving her a break from the almost violent prior stimulation. She’s surprised, bewildered by her classmate’s seemingly flawless pussy eating talent. The short interaction showed her why you tolerated him at least a little bit. She swung her head back, scarfing back a moan as you wrapped a hand around one her breasts, tugging at her erect nipple.

Satoru is merely a prop at this point, allowing the both of you to make a mess on top of him. The experience is somewhat of a dream, as it may be for most men. He’s on cloud nine with the two of you on top of him like this.

You can hear him snickering beneath her as you rock weakly on his length, he was clearly proud of himself. She’s not shy on suffocating him in response, pushing more of her weight against him. He welcomes the action, groaning  at the taste of her dribbling down his chin. He welcomes the action by stuffing his tongue inside of her, earning the highest of pitches from the brunette.

It’s the hottest scene for you, seeing her pant above him like that, but she never takes her eyes off of you. Her mouth his wet, and her gaze pours over your a naked body as your breasts bounce all for her to see. She loved it like this; the best view in her opinion. She sticks out her tongue, practically begging you to suck on it. 

You can hardly deny her looking like this, attaching your mouth onto hers again. 

“(Name)...” she moans your name so punily against you, eyes partially open and glossy with pleasure. She’s dangerously close to orgasming, and Satoru is eerily telepathic. He applies his suction again, humming in affirmation for her to cum for the both of you. 

He reaches one hand to settle against her hip while his other hand firmly holds her upper thigh, somewhat locking her in place. He sloppily buries his face into her while her cunt squelches against his mouth. Keen on making a grand first impression, he worms a hand underneath her and dips two of his large fingers into her sex. Her mouth pops off your yours, throwing her head back as he curls his digits inside the bundle of flesh. She splashes against him, sullying his face. He ejects his fingers, drinking up most of what she creamed out onto his face.

Collapsing in the crook of your neck, her hot breath ignited your body even more, making you rock against Satoru’s length with fevor.

“Fuck, that’s sexy...” He released his mouth from her, groaning between clenched teeth. 

You’re under the impression that Shoko’s done for the night while you attempt you give yourself a final orgasm on top of him. Her hot mouth connects with your neck, sucking and dragging her soft lips against your fiery skin. 

A decadent moan passes your lips, and she hums against you. “Pretty girl, let me spoil you some more...” 

Feathery lips glide down your neck and chest as you brace back, still grinding away. She rolls one of your nipples against her tongue, palming your free mound for you while you focus on reaching your high. Raising her ass from the nest that was Satoru’s face, she smirks at the mess of fluids on his chin that she made, feeling a bit too proud of herself. She crawls up behind your body, pressing her boiling skin and still erect nipples against your back. You relax into her delicate touch, holding one of the hands that groped your breasts for you. 

“Tapping out?” Satoru asks, watching the two of you seemingly phase him out yet again. You’re rocking into him, but seeking so much attention from her. 

“No, I’m prioritizing this sweet lamb of mine,” the words drip from her lips like molasses. Her lips meet your neck yet again, nipping her teeth against the skin before sucking in a way that would surely leave a mark on you. 

“Yours huh?” Satoru grits his teeth. He was inches away from his orgasm just from watching the both of you all over each other like that. His large and calloused fingers grip you hips, guiding your loose humping above him.

“Mhmm,” Shoko hums softly. She doesn’t actually care about laying claim to you. You came to her for a different kind of sex— something he couldn’t provide. “Isn’t that right, (Name)?”

You’re entirely faded, head being cocked back on her shoulder for support, only begging her for extra stimulation. She knows this all too well, sticking two of her fingers into your mouth. 

She plays with your tongue shortly before pulling a string of saliva from you. She places her glossy fingers on your clit for you, rubbing in intricate circles. 

The smooth rhythm along with being filled up with his ever-twitching length finally spirals you into another orgasm, one that had been poking at your insides for a while now. You quiver on his length, throwing an arm back to caress Shoko’s hair while you ride it out. She’s moaning with you; she knows how good you’re feeling right now. 

The room is hot and loud with moans, and Satoru can no longer hold his crowning load. His fingers are squeezing (a bit too hard) at your waist, almost bruising you as his toes curl in ecstasy. Watching Shoko grind her naked body against yours was something he would engrave into his brain. She claimed you were the spoiled one. He could argue otherwise, having gotten to see the both of you like this. 

“Fuck,” he breathes out. Thick wads painted the insides of your searing flesh, so much that you were already leaking onto his lap. 

“Good little lamb,” her hot breath finds your ear as your grinding finally subsides. She draws her fingers from you, soundly licking up the juices in your ear.

Your body twitches as it relaxes into her chest. She turns your head for a messy kiss, making your groan against her tongue. Satoru sits back up on his elbows, pushing some of his hair out of his face— as if he did much during this entire interaction.

Shoko gets from behind you, plopping in the space closest to the wall. You rise off his length, weakly motioning him to move over to lay between them.

“This bed is barely big enough for the three of us,” Satoru snickers, snaking an arm over both of your waists.

“You could always go sleep on your futon,” Shoko says, quick to remove his hand from her hip as she reaches for the comforter to cover your bodies. Satoru scowls a bit.

“Yeah, I bet you’d like that.” He rolls his eyes, snuggling closer against you. 

“Yeah~ you could use your futon.” You sleepily  slur, closing your eyes.

“Not you too,” he says quietly into the crook of your neck. 

There was more groggy and teasing conversation, not that the three of you would remember it when the morning came. You all slept in far past your 9AM class together. The best part though, was probably waking up to a half naked Satoru asleep on the futon in the morning. You and Shoko kicked him off the bed throughout the night, and he gave up on trying to separate your bodies from one another.

[helplessly-nonstop]

Laughing Gas Confession (L. Hemmings imagine)

I’ve been working on this fix for quite some time but since Luke decided to realize a new album, I finally managed to gain motivation to finish this fic! Anyway reader gets their wisdom teeth pulled and this is the results! Tagging my girlie @wrestlingfae

WC: 2352

-

Wisdom teeth. The bane of any person’s existence if they ever had the displeasure of them coming in. Truly the only thing a person could ever gain from them coming in might be the humerus videos you capture while on laughing gas. My experience however? A little less humorous and a lot more exposing.

“Come on, you’re being a baby about this, just go to the dentist and let them pull the wisdom teeth, you’ll feel much better!” Luke insisted as he shut the door behind us. I groaned as he continued to pester me about setting up a dentist appointment to remove the nightmares pressing against my jaw.

“Luke, I have no one to bring me home! They’re going to use laughing gas and I can’t drive while high.” I retorted, beginning to put away the groceries, only to press my fingers against the hinge of my jaw as the ache began to grow more painful. He stared at me with a disbelieving look then he exclaimed, “I’m off tour, I can take you! I mean, we’re best friends, isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? Take each other to the dentist, make sure you don’t ruin the Uber driver’s car flooring with vomit.”

“Okay, that was one time! That’s what you get for giving me Chipotle while I’m hammered. I mean, technically, me puking on that guy’s floor was your fault for letting me drink with Cal. You know he always encourages me to do bad things.” I insisted, handing him the milk to put away. He sighed, clearly realizing that I had won that point, and returned to our current argument, “Just let me take you. I swear, I won’t record you. I’ll just make sure you get there and back, safe and sound. Okay?”

We stared at one another for a while before I sighed, muttering, “Alright, fine, just make sure that I get there and back without breaking a bone.” His blue eyes sparkled at my agreement before he kissed me on my forehead then launched into making dinner as I dug through the freezer in search of an ice pack to press against my jaw. At least I’d finally get rid of these stupid wisdom teeth.

My appointment was set for tomorrow and dread was beginning to set in. Laughing gas loosened your lips and things that should remain a secret had the chance of slipping out. I was sitting on my bed, considering other options to pull my wisdom teeth without using laughing gas but ultimately came up empty. Unfortunately it seemed that this was the only way. Of course, I could have asked any of the other guys to take me to the dentist, but I feared that would hurt Luke. I just hoped that I could keep my secret locked away from even the grasps of the laughing gas..

“Today’s the day,” Luke crowed, bursting into my room, “C’mon, it’s time to take out those nasty wisdom teeth of yours!” I groaned and ducked my head beneath my pillow once again as I grumbled, “Why? Why did it have to be me to be cursed with a morning person as a best friend?” He flopped on my bed then lifted my pillow away from my face as he replied, “Balances out your night owl habits. Now come on, I bet you’re dying to get those bastards pulled.”

“It’s like you’re excited to see me suffer through recovery. Sadistic fuck. Alright, go, I’m getting dressed.” I muttered, shoving him off my bed. He groaned as he hit the floor then gave a small wave as he shut my bedroom door behind him, leaving me alone for the time being. I quickly changed and stared at the clock as I began to process what could happen.

Today was the day that I would risk the chance of exposing my love for my best friend of many years. What would I even do if I let it slip? Would he hate me? Would he reject me? Would he feel the same? So many thoughts raced through my head that I didn’t even notice that Luke had reentered, holding a hairbrush out to me. He cleared his throat and I glanced up with a sheepish smile then accepted the brush as he asked, “You need your shoes?” I looked around my room briefly and pointed to the stray pair of sneakers hiding beside my dresser before finishing brushing my hair.

He handed me my shoes and ran a hand through my hair as he assured me, “There’s nothing to worry about. They��re gonna take good care of you.” I smiled up at him and quickly pulled on my shoes before heading out the front door, sighing at the Los Angeles heat. We settled into the car and I stared out the window with a small sigh, prepared to finally get my teeth pulled.

“Hey you’re gonna be okay, there’s nothing to worry about. I’ve been to this dentist before, they’re really good.” Luke assured me, patting my hand. I smiled briefly then stared out the window, knowing damn good and well whether the dentist was good or not was at the bottom of my worry list for today.

We arrived at the dentist in fifteen minutes and I savored the knowledge that we wouldn’t be together while I’m high on laughing gas for too long. He guided me inside and I spoke to the nurse running the front desk while Luke investigated the assortment of pamphlets that were splayed across their wall. Settling back beside him, I gripped the arms of the chair, terror beginning to set in. What would happen as soon as I exited the exam room? Would I expose the truth? Could I prevent a secret from spilling out?

Long fingers slid over the top of my hand and I jerked out of my panic as Luke gave a tight squeeze. He smiled and assured me,”Hey it’s okay! I’ll be right here when you’re done, okay?” Just a few words and my heart began to settle. The nurse entered the waiting area then glanced up from his clipboard, calling my name. My best friend waved a hand towards the exam area then chirped, “A new life awaits you. One without pain.”

The words echoed in my head as I settled in the chair and the dentist coached me through how to breathe in the laughing gas before a haze settled over my thoughts. The operation was a quick procedure and the pressure of them removing the four monsters that evolution cursed us with was nothing compared to the relief I felt.

The nurse was kind enough to help Luke with guiding me to the car and I pressed my cheek against the cool glass of the window, poking my cheek to feel the gauze stuffed in my mouth. He swatted my hand away and chided, “Don’t do that, you’ll make it hurt worse later.” I pouted at his warning then mumbled,”You’re no fun, Luke. Why you gotta be a buzzkill?” He chuckled at my whining and ruffled my hair as he replied, “I’m not being a buzzkill, I’m saving you from yourself.”

We managed to go through the drive through without another incident of me being a disaster, which I’m sure he was thankful for. He tugged me out of the car and urged, “Come on, let’s get you inside, silly.”

“You know, I love you so fucking much, Lukey. Like holy shit.” I mumbled, leaning into his chest. He laughed as he guided me into the living room then replied, “I love you too. We should really get you laid down before you pass out on me. Doctor said by the time you got home, you’ll be about ready to sleep.” I smiled softly at him as I landed on the couch and insisted, “No, not- not like a best friend loves their best friend. I love you like a boyfriend and girlfriend love each other.”

His eyes widened at the statement then I began to lay down on the couch as I mumbled, “Prolly shouldn’t have said that but ya know how it is. Easy goes the truth you want most exposed. The subconscious is a strange place, Luke.” He gave a shallow nod and turned out of the living room then returned with a blanket, draping it over me as my eyes began to close. Long fingers brushed my cheek briefly then I heard him murmur something to me, but the pain medicine was beginning to settle in.

When I finally came to, I was still curled up on the couch, with a blanket curled around my shoulders and a pillow clutched to my cheek. Glancing around, I realized that Luke had disappeared from the living room, leaving me to nap by myself. I groaned, pressing a tender hand to my jaw, then mumbled, “Ah fuck, right. Wisdom teeth are gone.” I pushed off the couch and stumbled into the bathroom so I could pull the bloody gauze from my mouth. I moved my bottom jaw briefly, only to regret the decision as pain struck. I groaned and clenched my eyes closed, hoping that the agony would settle down.

“Hey, you’re up. You want something to eat? I made soup.” Luke asked, leaning against the bathroom doorway. I turned at the sound of his voice and questioned, “How long was I out?” He hummed at the question, glancing down at his phone screen as it chimed, then replied, “About four hours. Not a bad nap. Come on, let’s get some food for you.”

As the week progressed, I noticed Luke had become distant. He moved away when I leaned against him, particularly when he was texting which was never an issue in our friendship. We often flocked to one another when we were chatting with friends and even potential love interests so it was strange for him to shy away.

When I entered a room, he would leave just seconds later, as if he couldn’t stand the thought of standing in the same area as me. What had happened when my wisdom teeth were pulled? Had my behavior while dealing with the pain really drove my best friend away? Or worse, did I tell him my biggest secret while I was under the influence of laughing gas and pain medicine? And if so, how long would our friendship last?

I allowed his strange behavior to continue unquestioned for another week, hoping that it was a mere coincidence that he was acting so strange so soon after my wisdom teeth surgery. But I finally caved on demanding what his problem was when I tried to hug him, only for him to sidestep me.

“Was there- did I do something wrong? Because if I did, I’d really like to know what’s causing you to act like this towards me.” I asked, stepping forward to try and meet his eyes. He turned on his heel and ran a hand through his hair before he grumbled, “So that’s why you didn’t want me to take you to the dentist. Because you were afraid of telling me the truth while you were under?” I raised an eyebrow at him and began to ask what he meant, only to pause when his words sank in.

“Oh my god, I didn’t. Please tell me that I did not say what I think you’re saying that I said.” I rushed out, not caring if it had made any sense. He flickered his gaze up to me then he snapped, “How long? How long have you been hiding the fact that you’re in love with me?”

“I’m kind of hoping that’s an optional question to answer.” I admitted, twisting my fingers together. He whipped to face me and shouted, “Goddammit, this isn’t a fucking joke to me, so quit deflecting and tell me what I want to know!” I flinched back at his anger then demanded, “Why are you so pissed that I didn’t tell you that I’m in love with you? I have a right to hide things, Luke! It’s not like you feel- never mind, just let me take my medicine.”

He stepped in front of me and held a hand up as he said simply, “Finish what you were going to say. You know me so well, tell me what you were going to say.” I glanced up at him then murmured, “It’s not like you feel the same anyway.”

“But how would you know that? You’re dismissing me before you even give me the chance to tell you how I even feel! You think I’d take just someone to the dentist? I mean- fuck! I wish you’d just let me tell you how I actually feel instead of acting like I wouldn’t give you a second of my time. I’m in love with you, dammit!” he shouted, chest heaving. My jaw dropped as we stared at one another, silence settling over our living room, then he drew in a deep breath, hissing,”I wasn’t going to confess like this. You just riled me up so fast, dammit.”

“You're in love with me?” I croaked out, surprise taking over my anger. He drew in a deep breath, as if he was preparing to give a giant speech, then he whispered, “I’ve been in love with you since high school. I just thought that you only wanted to be friends.” I cupped his face and he leaned into me, pressing his forehead against mine then I mumbled, “I thought I never stood a chance. That’s why I never made a move. I was terrified of what would happen if you didn’t feel the same.”

“Two halves of a whole idiot on the same thing, I guess.” he replied, giving a small smile. I giggled and asked, “Would my other half give me a kiss then?” He gave me a gentle kiss then assured me, “The second that you’re all healed up, I’m going to kiss you so fucking hard.”

“You better keep that promise, pretty boy.”

[etherealeeknow]

vocal lesson

• rated m for mature, slight angst

• pairing: vocal coach!seungmin x fem!reader

• wc: 2.3k (confession: writing long fics isn’t my forte)

• tw: underlying toxic relationship, masturbation (m), grinding, groping, unprotected vaginal sex, explicit language, creampie- i think that’s all, please do tell me if you find more c:

• note: i have a love hate relationship with this fic. i have a few goals i’d like to achieve from this fic and whether or not i’ll succeed is based on your feedbacks 🥺 so please don’t hesitate to drop them! also, enjoy!

• tag list: @es-kay-zee @formidxble @bobateastay @vogueinnie @sailorhyunjinz // leave a comment, dm, or an ask to be tagged! thank you ♡

—

seungmin despises the way his heart dropped when he sees your name flashing on his phone screen instead of you flashing upon his eyes. by this time, he’s fully aware that a chatty girl like you isn’t the type to text. in fact, you only do it on one occasion, which is when you’d like to cancel the class. just like what he has expected, the text says you won’t be able to make it that day and that you’re sorry; but he knows you’re not sorry. he knows you’re doing this on purpose—to torture him—and it’s working perfectly.

honestly, the suffocating pain in his chest isn’t because he has been losing sleep, tossing and turning in his king size bed for hours over the thought of you being all dolled up in the baby blue dress he has gifted you; neither is it because he missed his favorite orchestra playback this morning just so he could find the most perfect white shirt out of his collection of other white shirts just so he can appear pleasant for you, but because you’ve been cancelling the lesson for three times in a row. if your mother ever finds out about this, she would definitely fire him. to prevent that from happening, seungmin has been silencing your maids with credits, but he knows too well they’d soon go for more if you keep this up. 

fiddling with the handkerchief that you had purposely left for him a few weeks back, seungmin gloomily shoves it into his pocket before dragging himself to the grand piano to warm his throat up. the first few notes started off slow and stable according to the piano keys, but with constant fear running on his mind, his fingers slipped and pressed the wrong one. the awry sound makes him cringe and shuts his eyes in annoyance. he hates it, mistakes, he hates it to the fullest, yet he has managed to keep up with it all this time just because he adores you more than anything, even when your cracked voice sometimes haunts him at night. see, seungmin’s giving his all to you,

but why are you doing this to me? where are you? i miss you.

“heh, pathetic,” he mutters to himself as he slowly lies down onto the piano bench, facing the chandelier which lights would usually illuminate you when sitting on the same bench while waiting for him to get to the music room, running your delicate fingers along the black and white wood. your side profile’s exactly like a goddess—breathtaking.

sighing over the imagery of you, he begins unbuckling his belt; eyes closing momentarily when he slips a hand into his unbuttoned pants and starts palming his clothed member. three weeks. it’s been three weeks since he last got off, since he last felt your touch, and he’s been trying his best to hold back because he believes you’ll eventually come around. he believes you won’t leave him just like that, yet you aren’t here again today, and he’s dying to release his pent-out frustration.

a heavy sigh escapes his lips when he takes out his dick, the tip leaking from precum and it makes him let out another sigh when he begins pumping it; another one follows, then another one, and it carries on as seungmin’s hand goes faster by each second. even in the peak of his pleasure, all he can think of is you. oh, how heavenly it would’ve been to have both your soft hand and pretty lips around him instead. his free hand is quick to slip into his pocket, snatching your handkerchief. despite only briefly smothering himself with it, your lingering scent alone is enough to make his head spin. with the sateen now wrapping around his throbbing cock, it feels as if you’re there, skin to skin with him.

“fuck!” he hisses, but eyes widening right away over his own volume as he quickly raises his head to check on the slightly opened door.

he’s so close and pausing in the middle just to lock the damned door would ruin everything. should he just bet on his luck today? it’s not like any of his well trained maids would rudely barge into his music room, right? but who knows?

screw it.

his back automatically arches when he feels the increasing tension in his pelvis, and it pushes him to fasten his hand move—pumping his dick rapidly to release. with eyes rolling to the back of his head, seungmin begins chanting your name desperately and that’s your last straw. the moment seungmin ejaculates is the moment you slam the door open and run towards him. the poor guy who’s barely riding out his high jumps on the bench as he sits up.

“y/n—”

“shut up,” you cut him off and crash both of your lips and body together, causing him to fall back down onto the bench, and creating a somewhat deafening screech on the floor, but it’s nothing compared to his loud moan in between the kiss.

the feeling of you straddling his lap instantly makes him hard again; the feeling of his warm hands running wild all over you and the stickiness on your inner thigh coming from your ruined handkerchief has you wetting your already damped panties—the effect of rubbing yourself when peeping on his little show. as the kiss deepens, so does your hunger for each other. of course, there’s no way you’ve gotten over what he did, and he’s surely still upset for being ghosted too, but for now, lust is winning. one squeeze on your thigh is all it needs for you to throw your baby blue dress across the room.

“you’re always so hot when you do that,” says the now naked seungmin who gets back onto the same position, looking at you with his half lidded eyes as his arms stretch out to fondle your breasts, his favorite part.

“the only time you’d compliment me is when we have sex,” you scoff before going back down on him, slowly yet easily pushing his cock inside of you, and both of you grunt in unison.

“y/n, ah— shit! i told you it’s because i know you can do better.”

snorting, you call him a liar before grinding mindlessly, movement starting off slow just like how your breathy moans starting off low. as much as seungmin enjoys being taken care of, patience doesn’t exist in his dictionary today. his hands leave your chest for your hips, guiding you to slip in and out of him at a faster pace. but that’s still not enough—he needs more. in a blink of an eye, you go from being on top of him to under him. seungmin bangs you down loudly on the grand piano, your buttcheeks and hands hitting the keys and filling the entire room with jumbled notes while you yourself are filled by him to the fullest, right at your g-spot.

“seung— fuck!” 

“louder,” he commands while thrusting into you, hips moving in a rhythm, and strong hands bringing your legs up to rest on his shoulders before holding onto your ass, supporting you from slipping down—multitasking is indeed his second best talent besides singing.

“what’s the p— point?” you breathe out, trying your best to sound coherent while maintaining eye contact, “so you’ll compliment karina instead again? pat her on the head and caress her cheek again?”

“you know i only did that to motivate you.”

“bullshit.”

if seungmin has to name anything you can do best, it’ll definitely be your ability to drive him crazy—disobeying him. again, he believes he has been going all in, keeping up with your lack of talent and bullshit for the past half a year; the way you’d fight, then fuck him, and fight again only to fuck him again, and the cycle continues. whenever he tries to talk things out, be it about your vocal lesson or your tangled relationship, you wouldn’t give a damn. today, that has to change.

“and i’m the one to blame? karina always listens to me,” he replies, slowing his thrust as he can feel your walls clenching around him even more and more.

“faste—“

“i said louder, y/n. tear your mouth wide open,” he grunts, thrusting into you so strongly that you jump and land back on the piano, creating such messy harmonies.

“seungmin, faster!” you yelp, voice raspy yet a little louder this time with your hands finding their way on his shoulders, and it makes him sneer as he leans in to kiss you, biting your lower lip before he lets go, and stop dead on track.

“hoarse voice, dry lips. don’t i always tell you to stay hydrated?”

you find it unfair. seungmin’s energy doesn’t make sense. the fact that he still has the power to put up with fucking while carrying you even after his solo session is unfair. and the way he has the audacity to give you a vocal lesson in the middle of everything, then stopping just because you aren’t complying is way too cruel, but perhaps, this is what you deserve.

“i’ll never cancel our lessons again. i’ll— i’m sorry. i will really listen to you,” you beg desperately, almost sobbing as you grind on him, refusing to let the tingling sensation on your core die down.

seungmin shakes his head. he knows you too well. normally, seeing you surrender like this softens him and makes him think that perhaps, he’s being way too demanding, or maybe, he should be even more understanding.

“that’s not what i asked for, love.” is what he says before resuming, putting all the remaining pressure he has left to snap his dick deeper into you.

that’s when his name falls out of your lips ever so gracefully, followed by endless ah’s, jaw hanging open. this is the loudest and clearest you’ve ever been—no holding back, no hitching breaths, no cracking—pure perfection. 

seungmin doesn’t even need to ask for more because you’re already repeating it on your own.

“fuck yes. just like that. such a good girl,” he grunts right beside your ear, picking up his pace.

it only takes a few moments till you feel the familiar knot in your abdomen coming back along with him twitching inside of you, and this time, you make sure to hold onto him so tight, afraid he’d pull the same stunt again.

“shit— please let me cum. please cum with me, come inside me, please, please, please,” you blabber, voice turns husky once more, but seungmin couldn’t care less, there’s always another chance for another vocal lesson. right now, all he wants is to,

“cum.”

the two of you reach together. name chanting, legs shaking, fingers digging, and body fluids mixing into each other—drenching not only your lower bodies, but also the extravagant bösendorfer piano seungmin shipped all the way from austria. but that’s another thing to worry about. right now, he can barely keep his eyes open while you can barely feel your stiff spread legs across his shoulders. once he’s made sure you’re over your high, seungmin gently pulls out and lets you down. he sits himself first on the bench before pulling you by the waist to seat you on his lap, and the two of you let silence take over for a little while.

“i know you’ve been bribing my maids,” you start off, “they have a big pay, but it’s impossible for their designer bags to double up in just a week, you know,” you continue while pushing his damp hair aside, revealing the remaining half of his sweaty forehead.

“they were gonna snitch on you to your mom,” he replies, pausing in the middle to mirror your action, pushing strands of hair to the back of your ear before averting his gaze back on your eyes.

even with your smudged eye makeup and cracked lipstick, you’re still as shining, dilating his pupil.

“and?”

“and she’s gonna fire me.”

“isn’t that what i should worry about? you’re a world winning award soprano. there are hundreds of talented people waiting in line to be your students. money isn’t the problem. plus, i know you hate my voice. i also never listen to you, never call you sir, and am ninety nine percent horny throughout our lessons. in short, i’m a bratty and disrespectful pain in the ass.”

your punchline makes him snort and he can’t help but to pull you into a hug, closing the already small space in between so he can indulge in your body heat and feel your chest beating calmly alongside his.

but what happened to changing things? don’t you wanna be in charge? you can’t just let her have everything she wants. 

despite hearing the faint voices in his head, mocking him for having the weakest heart for you, seungmin doesn’t care. for all he knows, he was a train wreck earlier this day; he surely didn’t expect he would go from reminiscing the memory of you under the chandelier to it actually coming true. 

“this is real, you’re here.”

“it is. i am.”

“and you’re gonna—“ pausing, he breaks the hug to cup your cheeks, “you have to stay.”

“what for? for you? for the vocal lessons? for… what?” you question, unconsciously tilting your head as you place a hand over his, slightly squeezing it, hoping he wouldn’t let go.

silence.

“i might be a bitch, but i’m not dumb. it isn’t about money and it isn’t about sex either. so what is it, seungmin?” you ask, eyes searching for an answer before adding, “i bring no good to you.”

you’re right. his best friends have said the same thing. they can’t seem to wrap their heads around how a collected person like him can break so easily over a random, spoiled, daddy’s little princess. it doesn’t make sense, he knows—i know. he’s been trying to figure it out, only to meet the same dead end.

“i’m a mistake.”

yes—yes you are, and seungmin hates it, mistakes, he hates it to the fullest, yet he has managed to keep up with it all this time just because,

“you’re the only mistake in my life that i can take, y/n.”

—

gen’s masterlist

[ibelongtowrath]

Imagine Satan is feeling needy but MC isn’t there. And in his room he starts rubbing himself and soon is jerking off thinking about them. Their touch, their warmth their sounds.

♡. Drabble time! Thank you for the inspiration, dear nonny!

♡. Tags/warnings: 18+/NSFW GN!reader, masturbation, daddy kink, thoughts of sex, lots of cum.

♡. NSFW below the cut!

Satan lies supine on his bed, a book cradled between his hands. Words appear before him, meticulously written, a tome he’s read hundreds of times before - one of his favorites. The crisp sound of pages turning, coupled with the gentle crackling of lit candles, cuts through the silence of his messy but organized bedroom, books stacked nearly floor-to-ceiling. This is a silence that is not the tranquil kind, however, but a nearly unbearable kind; because it is a silence that is not being shared with you.

Fuck.

His eyes drift from the book before him to the empty space next to him on his bed. It had been nearly a week since he had been able to taste your skin last. He craves you. Stolen kisses in the hallways of R.A.D. in between classes, quick pecks on the cheek before and after meals, exchanging of D.D.D. messages and typed-out “I love you”’s aren’t nearly enough to satiate his need. You were being whisked away to meetings, weighed down with the hefty workload of assignments, endless exams. 

Satan offered to let you stay in his room, to help you with your tasks, but you had politely declined, insisting it would be too much of a distraction. His lips turned up into a knowing smirk, understanding the implication, proud that he is able to affect you in such a way; but part of him was sorely disappointed, nodding with understanding, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before you turned around and headed back to your room. You paused, turning back to wink at him before those soft, pretty lips parted to speak.

“Don’t worry, it will only be for about a week. I’ll more than make it up to you after, Daddy.”

As he recalls your words, Satan feels his cock twitch beneath his pajama pants. His head falls back to rest against the pillow - the book, still open, lay against his chest. He finds his hand slowly reaching to the front of the fleecy bottoms, gliding his fingers over the slight bulge. Rubbing back and forth, softly, gently, touch just a bit heavier than featherlight, he bites his lip, his eyelids fluttering.

“Ah- fuck- harder, Daddy, don’t stop...”

The memory of those sweet, sweet words that fall from your lips - they’re delicious. Satan’s cock twitches again, growing harder as he continues to fondle himself through his pants. His breath hitches before exhaling slowly, hooking his thumbs beneath the stretchy waistband, pulling them down until his cock springs free. Thoughts running at the fastest speed imaginable, he nibbles his bottom lip.

He circles a thumb around the head of his cock, now rock-hard at its full length, and resting against his abdomen; the clear fluid of his obvious arousal weeps from the tip, dripping, pooling onto his stomach as his chest begins to rise and fall more rapidly, breaths turning ragged.

Satan moves his hand down, wrapping his fingers around his stiff, swollen length. His head rocks back against the pillows, eyes squeezing shut, lost in thoughts of you. Thoughts of your feverish skin against his, the way you look up at him as you writhe underneath him, eyes half-lidded and blown out with lust. He begins to stroke himself, slowly and methodically. 

A moan escapes him as he thinks of your own, the way you gasp with every thrust as he gripped your hips and lifted them, wrapping your legs around himself, slamming into the deepest parts of you. Your legs shaking, squeezing harder as you thread your fingers into his hair, moaning his name into his ear.

He groans, pumping his hand faster, letting his thoughts run amok with you. Satan arches his back, the book all but forgotten as it lies on his chest - his mind so clouded over with pleasure, properly putting it away is the last thing he wants to think about. 

Small beads of sweat appear on his forehead, and he groans, desperately wishing it was your hand getting him off instead of his own gripping his aching, needy cock. A pinging chime sounds from his D.D.D. on the nightstand, indicating a received text, but he ignores it, lost in ecstasy.

The feeling of your tight, warm walls gripping him as he enters you, pulling back, dragging his cock between your walls before pounding back into you. Stretching you out with his sheer size, quivering around his cock as your arousal wets him. Satan increases the pace of his hand in tandem with the memory of his quickened, merciless thrusts into your pliant little body writhing beneath him, calling out his name; the two short syllables stretching into loud, gasping moans that rise in pitch with each effort, bordering on a scream of pleasure.

“Ah! It f-feels so good, I’m going to cum, Daddy-”

Fuck! Satan clenches his jaw, stroking faster and faster, desperately chasing his release. Gripping the sheets beneath him with his free hand, he bucks his hips into his own hand, pressing his skull hard into the pillow as his cock twitches. Fuck, I’m so close... 

It’s the mental image of your eyes rolling back in ecstasy as you cum, gripping him tightly as you scream his name into the late hours of the morning, fucking into you throughout your release that finally pushes Satan over the edge. Mere moments later, the tension between his hips snaps, fire pooling low in his belly and blazing to life as his orgasm shudders through him. 

Squeezing his eyes shut, he lets out a series of loud moans, sounds of pleasure shattering the thick silence of his empty bedroom. Thick, white ropes of cum pulse from his cock, coating his hand and subsequently landing on the book that lay on his chest, coating the cover with evidence of his desperation. Chest rising and falling rapidly with the effort of his labored breathing, Satan groans, letting his head drop back against the pillow as he wipes his brow with the back of his free hand.

Silence returns to his room, though only for a few fleeting moments - the sound of his bedroom door unlocking fills that void,  almost amplified by the previous stillness. Satan’s heart thrums wildly in his chest, watching with widened eyes as you stride through the door before turning around to close it behind you, setting your book bag on the nearest chair.

“I texted you, but you didn’t answer,” you tell him, reaching to grab your D.D.D. from your bag before turning around. “I need a break, so I thought-”

Your words cut off suddenly as you finally turn around. The sight of Satan on his bed, a hand wrapped tightly around his cock, coated in cum as he pants, his eyes glazed over in pleasure. You can feel yourself grin, sauntering up to him, keeping your eyes trained on his as your hands make quick work of unbuttoning your uniform jacket, dropping it to the floor.

Satan’s heart thrums wildly in his chest, like the rev of a racecar gas pedal pressed to the floor. He licks his lips, delighting in the sight of you, moving the cum-soaked book to the nightstand, not caring at all for the damage.

“Kitten,” he rasps, continuing to pant. “I-”

“Missed me that much, hm?” you purr, leaning over him to brush your lips against his. “I did say I’d make it up to you, Daddy, didn’t I? I suppose I’ll have to clean you up first...”

[plaidbooks]

Rough Beginnings

A/N: So! This idea spawned after reading @cycat-carisi​ story, We. Please read that first, then come back here for this prequel! This also covers the Mafia square in @adarafaelbarba​ moodboard bingo!

Tags: mentions of a prostitution ring, talks of murder and mafia-related goings-on

Words: 1964

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart​  @beccabarba​  @thatesqcrush​ @itsjustmyfantasyroom​ @permanentlydizzy​ @ben-c-group-therapy​  @infiniteoddball​ @glowingmess​ @whimsicallymad​ @lv7867​ @storiesofsvu​ @cycat4077​ @alwaysachorusgirl​  @glimmerglittergirl​ @joanofarkansass​ @caracalwithchips​ @berniesilvas​​  @reading--mermaid​  @averyhotchner​  @mrsrafaelbarba​ @detective-giggles​ @crowleysqueenofhell​ @dreamlover31​

(gif by @resparza​ )

Sonny never hated his job more than when he went undercover. He had hated when he was posing as a homeless man with an eye for children, but this was worse. So. Much. Worse.

His cover story for this job was that he was part of the Italian mob, and he had been hired on as security for a prostitution ring; some huge network that was international but had its roots right here in Manhattan. Him, along with multiple real mafia members, were in charge of transporting girls, drugs, and anything else the head honcho told them to.

It had been three months since he went under; his beard itched his face still, his leather jacket was starting to be uncomfortable, and he wanted nothing more than to take all of these bastards down. But they didn’t have enough yet. So, he had to stick it out a little longer—at least, that’s what he told himself. A little longer, a little longer. He wasn’t sure how much “little longer” he had left in him.

Sonny lived in the housing quarters his boss supplied him, along with three other mafia guys. He had almost zero contact with the world outside his job—all the information he gathered was sent in a coded text from a burner. But he was starting to miss his friends and family. At least his employer understood that as part of the Italian mob, Sonny was allowed to go to church on Sundays…if there wasn’t something big happening.

His saving grace came a month later, while standing guard at his boss’s door. A woman he’d seen before came stomping up to him, and he braced himself; he knew that look.

“Let me see my father,” you snarled.

Sonny rose his hands defensively. “I was given orders ta not let anyone in. That includes you,” he replied, crossing his arms once more and trying to puff out his chest. But you simply glared at him.

“Fuck you; let me in, before I force my way in,” you growled.

He chuckled, eyeing you. “Ya really think you can get passed me? Let’s see ya try, doll.”

You gave him another impressive glare before trying to lunge passed him, reaching for the handle. Sonny caught you easily around your midsection, lifting you and placing you down at arm’s length in front of him.

“That the best ya got?” he teased. This wasn’t the first time you tried to brute force your way passed him before, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. But you had a trick up your sleeve.

You let your bottom lip quiver, tears appearing in your eyes. “Pl-please, sir, let m-me see my—” you trailed off, sniffling loudly.

“Ah geez, don’t be doing that. Come on; he’s in a meeting and will be out soon. Just wait a lil, okay?” he said, a touch of pleading in his voice.

But you didn’t stop, letting the tears trail down your cheeks. You let out a loud sob, and Sonny wanted to rip his hair out; he didn’t need a tantrum with daddy’s spoiled brat right now. He internally winced at that; he didn’t really believe that that was what you were, but when you came up here, trying to cry your way in, his mind went there.

You let out another loud sob. “Please, doll, I promise ta let him know as soon as he’s free—” Sonny started, but he was cut off by the door behind him opening. He stood at attention—like a good little lapdog—and the man who was having a meeting with his employer came out. He took one look at you, then left, rolling his eyes. You quickly wiped your face with your shirt before your dad appeared.

“And what are you doing here?” your father asked, annoyance dripping from his voice.

Sonny felt bad for you, but said nothing, gave away no emotions on his face as you requested to speak with him, privately.

He nodded, and Sonny moved out of the way, letting you enter, the door closing softly behind you both. He released a breath; it was always high tension after a meeting. But Sonny also found himself feeling sorry for you, having a father like that. He was hoping that when the walls came down, you’d at least be spared; you had no real idea of your father’s business, how big and deep it ran.

The meeting between you and your father didn’t last long, and soon enough, the door was opening once more behind him.

“Sonny; drive my daughter home. Giuliano will cover you until you're back,” your father ordered.

Sonny nodded, letting you pass him before following you. He kept his emotions in check, but he saw the look on your face; sadness, betrayal, and fear. He vaguely wondered what you had talked about but didn’t want to pry; he could be fired or worse for it.

It wasn’t until halfway through the drive to your place that he asked if you were okay.

“Fantastic,” you muttered, staring out the window.

Sonny wasn’t sure why he couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut; the words just spilled out. “Ya father is a hard man. I’m sorry ya have ta deal with that.” It was a mistake, he knew; if you were indeed loyal to your father, then saying that out loud was a good way to end up dead.

You blinked in surprise at his bluntness, and for his apology. “Y—yeah, he is. I wouldn’t let him catch you saying that, though.”

He nodded. “Uh, how ‘bout makin’ it our little secret, then?” he asked, hoping beyond hope that you’d say nothing about this to him.

“Our little secret…. Yeah, okay,” you replied dryly, eyes going back to the window.

 *******************

After that conversation, Sonny’s boss would often send him to you, whether to drive you or as extra protection—more like babysitting, to Sonny. But he found that he couldn’t complain; it was the only time he could be close to his true self…plus it was safer and better than doing other, illicit things. Even if he should be doing those things for intel. And of course, he never slipped up like he had on that first car ride. No, he was Sonny from the Italian mob, not the soft-hearted detective. He held you at arm’s length, determined to not let the mask slip. But something about you got to him, and he found himself afraid of you. Afraid that he’d make a mistake, and that you would see right through him.

“Sonny, why do you do this job?” you asked one day while he was driving you home. It had been over a month since your father had basically assigned Sonny to you.

He tried to stay neutral, but you saw how he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “’Cause it’s a job. I was hired.”

“That’s a bullshit answer and you know it,” you replied, smiling.

His jaw tightened. “Nah, see, when my boss tells me ta do somethin’, I do it.”

“You’re not like the rest, though. The others, I see murder in their eyes. They have such dark thoughts; it’s almost like they’re hoping my father gives them a kill order,” you explained. True, your father told you that they were security guards for his business, but you never bought that story; they were more like murderers than security. The day when Sonny kept you out of your father’s office was the first time you noticed that he was different; his eyes were soft, and he talked to you like a person, rather than making vaguely concealed threats. He seemed to genuinely care when you started to fake cry, even though you knew that he knew it was fake.

His bright blue eyes met with yours in the rearview mirror for a brief moment before flicking back to the road. “We don’t kill—”

“Stop lying to me, Sonny. Please. I deserve to know what’s going on,” you said, a slight begging tone in your voice.

So that confirmed it; you had no idea what your father was capable of. Sonny swallowed, wanting this conversation to end. “Talk ta ya father, not me—”

“I’ve tried! Multiple times! I’m not an idiot; I know he’s shady as hell. But just what are you protecting?”

“If he’s not willin’ ta tell ya, then that should tell ya somethin’, right?” he asked. He pulled over in front of your art studio, putting the car in park and getting out. You thought about his words; it was more than you got from anyone else. To be honest, Sonny always gave you more than anyone else; he didn’t sneer at you, ignore you, call you names like “brat”. And he definitely didn’t look at you with hungry eyes or creepy smiles. He seemed like…like a generally good person, all things considered. You weren’t sure when it had happened, but you noticed you had developed a crush on him.

All too soon, Sonny was opening the door for you to get out. You thanked him as you exited the car, and felt his presence behind you as you climbed the stairs to the door. He always walked you there, to make sure you were safe.

You unlocked and opened the door, then turned around to face him. He gave you a nod and you thanked him again. But something possessed you in that moment; why else would you have grabbed his shirt and pulled him to you in a kiss?

Sonny froze in place, eyes wide, before he placed his hands on your shoulders and pushed you back. You looked up at him, the apology dying on your tongue; you weren’t sorry at all. That kiss was worth it in your eyes. But there was an almost…pained? look in Sonny’s eyes.

“D-doll, we can’t—ya father—”

“Never has to know,” you finished for him.

He blinked, obviously warring with himself, and you were sure you knew why; if your father found out about you two, he could have Sonny killed. But, if Sonny felt the same way about you that you did about him, then maybe, just maybe, he could help you escape from under your father. Something about him was safe, trustworthy.

Slowly, you reached up to cup his face. When he didn’t pull away, you gently leaned in again, kissing him slowly, tenderly. He paused for only a moment before he melted against your lips. Then he gently pulled away from you.

“I—I gotta—” He didn’t finish his thought before he turned and hurried down the stairs. You watched him go, hoping that he’d say nothing to your father.

The car door slammed shut and Sonny was quick to turn the car on and leave. What the fuck was he doing, letting you kiss him? And then he kissed you back?! He must be a fucking idiot! Sure, he liked you—more than he was willing to admit—but this could blow his cover. Not to mention get him killed, cover blown or not. Plus, he was lying to you; any feelings you felt weren’t for him but for the façade he put on.

He resolved to keep his distance from you; nothing good could come from any of this. It ended in one of two ways: you, heartbroken over Sonny’s lies, or him buried six feet under in some lot. There was no way to disobey your father if he ordered him to take you home, so there was no avoiding you. Sonny would just have to lay down the rules next time he saw you; absolutely no relationship could exist, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

[kai-uh-arcadian]

hi love!

can u write a hitch imagine where she and f!reader get high and go to a party and the reader and hitch separate, like the reader goes to play beer pong with connie sasha and jean while hitch goes to historia and annie to dance and reader watches her dance and pulls hitch with her to the bathroom and they fuck?

Hi my darling!!! I hope this encapsulated what you’re imagining!!

Full Disclosure: I do not know how to write smut nor have I ever attempted SOOOOO if anyone would like to expand on this with smut PLEASE GO AHEAD!!! The ending is open ended for smut but if you’re not into that it still makes perfect sense as is,

I apologize I couldn’t execute the entire ask but I hope you still enjoy! (:

DRUNK CONFESSIONS Hitch x Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

CW: Mentions of drug use (weed, alcohol), being drunk/high, minor cussing

——————————————————————

- “I’m here” you texted Hitch as you pulled into her driveway

- Your phone lit up and read “sorry I CANNOT come anymore, my fish is really sad rn😪😪😪”

- Two things:

- One: Hitch is already outside waiting for you with her backpack (filled with her overnight stuff)

- Two: she doesn’t even fucking have a fish?😾😾😾😾

- She gets into your car to which you greet her with “ah hi Bitch… I mean Hitch! DaMN I thought your fish was in distress?

- “Well be glad “Bitch” is here because she’s the one giving you free weed dumbass” she remarks while (sort of gently) punching your arm

- “Ooo, do I get the hot girl discount?” You smirk at her

- “Shut the fuck up!” She says sarcastically and starts to blush “just drive already” she shifts her knees toward the passenger door

- You got babygirl flustered😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩

- You begin your car ride to Sasha’s house

- The Blouse’s were on a 3-day vacation to who-knows-where, all we knew is that Sasha was having a lowkey get together

- The guest list consisted of Eren, Armin, Jean, Marco, Historia, Marlo, Ymir, Annie, Mikasa, Connie, Mina, Reiner, and Bertholt

- You arrived in the Blouse driveway and Hitch begins to pull out grape swisher pack container a blunt

- “Ahhhh~ look at this pearl I rolled!!” She holds it up in awe then shortly begins to light it

- You’re lucky your cars interiors is all leather and you have until tomorrow to air it out

- (You never smoke in your car nor let anyone smoke in your car but Hitch is the only exception cause she’s cute)

- You both share the blunt that is apparently “this amazing strain called Sour Diesel she got from her dealer for free because she made out with him”

- After about what seems like 2 hours (it was actually about 15 minutes) you both are pretty fckn stoned and decide to head in

- You let the group chat know you and trouble arrive and head for the door

- “Mikasa!” You exclaim and hug her as she opens the door

- “What did you say? It’s too loud in here…” she deadpans

- 🦗🦗🦗🦗

- “Huh? There’s no music playing tho…..😅” you reply

- Mikasa sees the gears working in you and Hitch’s head as you’re trying to process the “joke” she just said

- To give you a hint, she sniffs the air

- 👃🏼👃🏼👃🏼

- “OHHHHHHHH!!!!” You and Hitch say in unison after realizing she was insinuating you REEKED of weed

- “Dumb and dumber arrived!!” Mikasa announces to the gang

- You and Hitch head to the guest bedroom upstairs to drop of your overnight bags

- You both return to the basement only for you to be pulled to one half to play pong and Hitch to the other to go take shots with Annie

- Before the game starts Connie tells “YOOO let’s see who can shotgun the fastest!!”

- Why would you ever turn that down????😩 free beer

- You, Jean, Connie, and Sasha all puncture your cans and begin to go

- Ofc you win🥸🥸🥸 You’re a natural

- “That’s not fair!! I started later, I didn’t know we were supposed to go on “1”!!??” Sasha exclaims, declaring a rematch to which you all oblige

- “3, 2, 1” Mikasa counts down for you guys

- One rematch turned into 2 more 😵‍💫😵‍💫

- Now you’re 4 beers in and the night is barely starting

- the night continues on and pong has turned into a game of “Whichever team loses has to shotgun”

- Lemme tell you, Jean is DEAD WEIGHT

- bitch got no aim???👿

- Sasha and Connie are absolutely obliterating You and Jean so at this point it’s safe to say you’re about 9, Natty Ice’s in and about 3 shots that Hitch kept handing you in

- Speaking of Hitch….

- Where the fuck is she??

- Your dizzy eyes begin to scan the basement— she can only be in so many places down here

- as you’re getting distracted, Sasha and Connie decide to leave the pong table to do God knows what and Jean runs after them

- You decide it’s best to ignore whatever the fuck kind of trouble they’re getting themselves into

- That’s when you see it

- Historia, Mikasa (?!?!?!!), Annie (?!?!?!?), and Hitch making a Tik Tok

- For reference it’s this dance

- You can Ymir practically drooling over Historia and then yelling at Reiner for doing the same

- Marlo is drooling at Hitch

- The sight of Marlo alone ignited a fire of pure rage inside of you

- everyone, including Hitch, knows that he blatantly pines over her… some people even think they’d look cute together but who knows what Hitch thinks??? Does she like him back?

- ahhh~ your head is crowded with so many thoughts right now and decide to silence them with a disgusting shot of Pink Whitney left by your side from Hitch

- is this JEALOUSY????

- your throat and the pit of your stomach burns as the shot goes down but not as hot as the left side of your chest at the sight you’re seeing right now

- You find Historia, Mikasa and Annie VERY attractive bUT you cannot take your eyes off of Hitch

- It’s rude to stare but goddamn, she’s in a white tennis skirt that when she moves JUST enough you can see part of her bare ass

- (Go touch grass later)

- 1 of the 4 girls take turns (unintentionally) messing up causing them to retake the Tik Tok

- You are NOT complaining tho👀👀👀

- They FINALLY get the dance down

- Hitch comes over and stands in between your legs that are dangling off the table you’re sitting on and wraps her arms around your waist

- Marlo shoots you a look and you were about to say something to him but Hitch guides your chin back with her finger so you were looking at her again👿👿👿

- “Soooo~ what’d you think?” She slurs getting closer to your face with a mischievous look in her eyes

- If looks could kill, Marlo would have your head right about now

- MISS GIRL I COULD GET DRUNK IF YOUR BREATH😷😷😷

- “Huh? About what” you play dumb hoping she didn’t notice you blatantly staring

- “Sweetie you would’ve caught flies if you kept your mouth open any longer” she says right in your ear causing you to get goosebumps

- So she definitely noticed you staring

- And played into it😐😐😐

- You took the bait and she won this round

- She nuzzles her head into your chest and oh my god her scent intoxicates you

- A mix of vodka, a bit of sweat (naturally,,,, bitch just got done dancing her life away), strawberry herbal essence shampoo, and a shit ton of Victoria’s Secret bombshell perfume(or Tease, I can’t decide)

- “I have to pee~~ can you come with” she says grabbing your hand without waiting for your answer

- What’s up with drunk girls and tag team bathroom breaks

- (On a real note, I’ve been to a handful of parties and my friends always ask me to help them in the bathroom like what am I gonna do? Wipe their ass for them? Cheer them on like YES GIRL GO PISS!!!🥳🥳🥳🥳)

- Anyways

- She pulls you into the bathroom, does her business as you face the wall, washes her hands and youre ABOUT to open the door when pins you against the door slamming it shut

- “You’re an idiot???” she looks up at you with tears brimming at her eyes

- You’re just as drunk/high as she is (if not more??) she CANNOT blame you for not picking up the subtle hints

- You gave her this abhorrently shocked and confused face

- “Hitch wait what why are you crying I’m so sorry what did I do” you begin to ramble in panic

- “What did I do uhh I’m so sorry how can I fix thi—“

- She cuts you off by smashing her lips against yours

- This has to be a dream or just drunk Hitch actions because she is a flirty drunk so you don’t want to get your hopes up

- “That’s how you can fix it~” she hiccups as a tear goes down her face

- “I’ve liked you for a while and I didn’t want to ruin anything so I kept it in for so long but I just can’t anymore” now SHES rambling

- “Just *hic* seeing you everyday, being so close to you and not *hic* being able to do anything about it hurts so bad but I just had to get this out so I’ll leave you alone afte—“

- Now you cut off her rambling with a slightly less aggressive and more passionate kiss

- The smile on her face is the cutest mixture of shocked and pure happiness🥺🥺🥺

- “I want the exact opposite of you leaving me alone, I’ve liked you for so long Hitch” you kiss her forehead and she just happily sobs/giggles like a child into your chest

“Don’t tell Hitch this, but she’s everything I wanted and more” you give her a small chuckle, looking away as your cheeks turn pink

“I won’t say a word idiot” she says kissing the top of your nose

Anyone, Feel free to delete any part of the ending if you’d like to add the smut part of this request!! Hope you enjoyed

- K ( :

[honeymoonjin]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 11.1k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

Sick of unsatisfying hookups, boring relationships or the company of your own hand? Apply today for the chance to be on bangasm.com’s very first reality show! Seven attractive young gentlemen will be vying for your choice of who is best in bed. All from different backgrounds, these men claim they’ll be able to rock your world, so don’t hesitate! Apply now!

Congratulations! You’ve been accepted as the Lady in the first season of The Gentlemen.

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: voyeurism, exhibitionism, filmed sex, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), big dick namjoon serving us tripod realness, dom!joon, and when i say dom i mean both dominant AND domestic : ), impregnation kink, daddy kink, praise, dom!jimin, sub!reader in both of these scenes, lingerie kink (m wearing), copious teasing, very light spanking, french kissing, lapdance, the jimin scene is filthier than the tags give it credit for ngl, oral (m receiving), cum swallowing/eating, aftercare (as always) 

banner designer @jamaisjoons​ | thank you everyone in the sfhs server, you bring me so much joy, motivation and good ideas | AND finally thank you to the anon that suggested [redacted] jimin i legit replanned everything just to make that his prompt

DAY TWELVE

The mattresses in the room of bunk beds are surprisingly comfortable. The metal springs squeak a little if you move too much, but you wake up feeling well-rested.

“Not too bad, right?” Hoseok chirps, swinging out on the ladder and jumping down onto the floor with a thud. Using his laundry from the day before, he unceremoniously swaps his sleep shirt and boxers for some deep green skinny jeans and an orange sweater. Namjoon, more modest and distinctly more sleepy, grabs his clothes and stumbles back to his own room.

“The beds? Better than I was expecting for sure.”

Hoseok smiles warmly as you hop down the ladder and arrive on steady ground again, toes curling into the carpet. He fiddles quickly with a chunky watch, doing up the links. “Breakfast is downstairs if you want it.”

You throw him a teasing grin. “Not if you’re making it, thanks.”

He has the good graces to pretend to be offended, before tugging you into a playful side-hug, ignoring your squeak of surprise. “No, you cheeky fucker, Jungkook bought pancake mix. He texted me saying there’s plenty for everyone.”

“Jungkook making breakfast?” you ask dubiously, but the warm image of pancakes for breakfast makes your stomach growl. “Let me get dressed real quick and I’ll come down.”

Jungkook, it seems, is starting out the day cheerful as ever. He gives you a big grin when you, Namjoon and Hoseok come down for breakfast, and he makes sure to dish up the biggest pancakes for you, before taking the second biggest for himself.

Jin raises a teasing brow when you come down accompanied by the two men, Namjoon still with his hair ruffled up awkwardly from his slumber. “Long night?” he questions with a cheesy wink.

Hoseok catches on to the teasing nature, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Sadly, Namjoon wanted a rest day, so we didn’t enjoy any funny business.”

Jungkook watches the three of you closely, lips tightening just a little bit before he breaks out into a cheeky smile. “I think Y/n would have been too tired out to do anything more anyway.”

You choke on air, a forkful of pancakes blessedly not in your mouth yet. Beside you, Hoseok chuckles awkwardly. “Goodness, JK, we heard enough yesterday. The gym walls are not as thick as they should be.”

Instead of blushing like you are, Jungkook puffs his chest up. “I’ve never heard Y/n scream like that with any of you guys. Then again; I bet you haven’t made her squirt like I did.”

This time you aren’t so fortunate, coughing on a mouthful that you’d anxiously stuffed in to keep yourself occupied. You send Yoongi a grateful look as he slides you a glass of water.

“Jesus, Jungkook,” Jin grimaces, “we’re trying to eat breakfast.”

You keep your eyes down, confused by Jungkook’s behaviour and more than a little embarrassed.

When you hear Namjoon speak up, his voice is strangely tensed. “That’s really not appropriate.”

A heated pause. “This is literally a porn show,” Jungkook states defensively, “sex is the whole reason we’re here. I think everyone’s forgetting this is a competition about being the best in bed, I’m just- You know what, never mind, pretend I didn’t say anything.”

“You just what?” Namjoon questions. It’s unlike him to be argumentative, and you shift in your seat, taking another sip of the ice-cold water. “Did you really make us all pancakes just so you could gloat? Y/n is a person, not a video game, Jungkook. Have a little respect.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond, but when you glance up, the frustrated rolling of his eyes and furious stabbing of his fork in a pancake speaks volumes.

Yoongi pinches his brow. “Jin-hyung, can you pass the syrup? Thanks.”

Namjoon stares expectantly at the youngest Gentleman for a few moments, before letting out a light huff and returning to his food.

Silence continues for a moment or two before Taehyung pipes up, voice tiny in the oppressive tension. “How many people still have to do their prompts this week? I haven’t done mine yet.”

Yoongi sends him a lightly exasperated look. “Really?”

Taehyung gives a small shrug, glancing to the camboy sitting beside him. “I mean… I don’t think we need to be explicit but this show is about sex. I feel like it’s equally bad if we don’t talk about it at all, you know?”

“The kid’s right,” Jin allows with a wry grin. “I’ve done mine. Tuesday; though I suppose some of you saw.”

Jimin cocks his head, lost. “Saw? Uh, yes, I haven’t done my prompt yet. Actually, uh, if you guys wanna take part, stay in the lounge tonight. I need an audience.”

You send him an inquiring look. “What about me?”

Jimin lets out a short laugh. “Your participation is kind of mandatory. Please stay in the lounge too.”

You appreciate the slow brushes of conversation that ease the tension away. “Am I an audience member or a volunteer?” You grimace suddenly. “Wait, fuck, it isn’t like a circus act or something, right? You aren’t a magician?”

“Don’t worry, the show won’t be that kind of magic,” he promises.

You go to reply, but your attention is caught by the way Jungkook is openly glaring at Namjoon like he’s waiting for something. “Kook?” you question.

Jungkook’s eye twitches. “Why aren’t you saying anything now, Namjoon? So they get to talk about sex but I can’t?”

Jin sucks in harshly through his teeth, sending a look of alarm to the youngest. “Okay, break it up, that’s enough. Jungkook, any more smart comments and you can leave. We’ll talk privately if you need it.”

Jungkook lets out a bitter scoff, but Namjoon is already rising hastily, banging the edge of the table in his haste to get up. “I’ll go,” he urges, “you all can enjoy your breakfast in peace.”

Nobody seems to even breathe as the sounds of Namjoon’s footsteps fade away, a door upstairs shutting harshly.

Yoongi has his face bent, thumb and forefinger pressing to his forehead, like a headache is coming on. “What the fuck was that?” he muses tiredly.

Jungkook doesn’t answer, staring at his pancakes like he’s trying to make them burst into flames.

You bite your tongue harshly, unsettled by how tempers flared so quickly. Unsure of what to do, you stare at Jungkook for a moment. You don’t want it to seem like you’re picking a side, but he has five others around him, and Namjoon is upstairs alone. You slide your chair out, quieter than last time. “I’m just going to check on him. Jungkook; you’re fine, I’m not angry.”

He breaks out of his death stare at his breakfast to send you a look of bewilderment, but Yoongi is already clicking his tongue disapprovingly. “Well, I am,” the second eldest declares, and you rush upstairs before the scolding begins.

Namjoon answers, albeit reluctantly, when you knock on the door and call out to him. He’s well and truly awake and alert now, hair combed down sullenly, the purple looking more faded than ever against the rich blue of his long-sleeved t-shirt. “Are you okay?” he asks with a tired frown.

Your brows lift automatically. “That is the exact question I came up here to ask. Can I come in?”

His bedroom is even more tidy than usual, now that he hasn’t been sleeping there. You sit down on the edge of his bed, feeling an unsettling swirl of dread.

“I’m sorry about Jungkook,” is the first thing out of his mouth as he sits down beside you, shoulders hunched like he’s making himself as small as possible.

You shake your head slowly. “You shouldn’t apologise on other people’s behalf. He’ll say sorry if he wants to.”

Namjoon pauses for a moment. “Then I’m sorry about contributing to the uncomfortable atmosphere.”

Despite the situation, your mouth quirks into a grin and your eyes soften. “Forgiven. I’m more worried than angry, you know? About the both of you.”

Namjoon lets out a sigh, eyes dancing aimlessly around the room, no doubt pondering complex concepts at the speed of light like he usually was. “This is probably to be expected, right? Tension. I didn’t think I’d be the one involved, though.”

“Ah, it wouldn’t be a reality show without some drama,” you allow, scooting back on the bed so you can tuck your feet up, crossing your legs. “We’ve just gotta move past it, I guess.”

“Didn’t it make you uncomfortable?” Namjoon blurts suddenly, cringing at the volume of his voice. “Him talking about you so publicly like that?”

You run your tongue along the inside of your cheek. “It took me off guard for sure. I don’t know; I guess sex is kind of our currency in here, you know? Him being so, uh, bold about it out of nowhere is pretty weird, though.” You shrug it off. “Maybe he slept bad last night.”

Namjoon searches your face. “I’m too much of a prude, aren’t I? Things like that bother me, so why did I sign up for a porn show?”

You turn to face him, brows knitted in sympathy. “Just because others are more open doesn’t mean being modest is a bad thing. Don’t let Jungkook’s bad mood make you believe that you don’t belong on the show or that you need to change. Okay?”

The two of you share a tender moment of eye contact, before Namjoon laughs shyly and turns his head away. You grin at him. “What?”

“It’s stupid,” Namjoon deflects, “it’s not the time.”

“Not the time for what?” you press. “Tell me; I’m curious now.”

Namjoon’s eyes dart up, pausing briefly at your lips. “I just… I really wanted to kiss you.”

Your heart swells, but you keep your face open, your voice barely louder than a whisper. “Then you should kiss me.”

All the breath leaves his lungs in a rush, but before he can inhale again, he’s propelling himself forward, wide hands cradling your jaw steady so your lips can join, a little uncoordinated but perfect nonetheless.

The small whimper of surprise is muffled by his lips, but you quickly melt into him, hands clutching at the front of his shirt for stability.

You can taste the remnants of breakfast, the sweet stickiness of maple syrup on his lips. You deepen the kiss to seek out more of the flavour, breaths escaping your nose as you don’t dare part for a second. Namjoon seems equally enraptured, shy flicks of his tongue making your head spin.

You lean in until your wrists are pinned between his chest and yours, and then lean in more, wanting to be close. Like oxygen to fire, the more contact you get the more desperate you become, and when his hands lower to lift you easily onto his lap, grinding you unconsciously against his erection, you feel ablaze.

“I need to-nm-do my prompt,” Namjoon murmurs out, teeth catching on your tongue with how deeply you kiss.

You swallow, leaning back slightly to take a breath in. “We don’t have to now,” you assure, moving your hands up to stabilise yourself on his shoulders so that he cranes his neck up to chase your lips. “Or have you graduated from Hoseok’s School of Sexual Prowess already.”

You smile down at the way his eyes flutter shut with a crooked grin, delicate crescent moon lash line a deep brown against his tanned skin. His lips are flushed and swollen, and he swallows like a man parched before he speaks, blinking blearily up at you. “I prefer to learn on the job,” he quips hoarsely.

You grin, leaning down to nudge him slightly to the side with your nose, giving you a better angle to leave a trail of light kisses from the corner of his mouth to the top of his jaw, tugging on his earlobe just enough that you feel his dick twitch against you. “What’s it gonna be, then? Am I a naughty student? Slacking receptionist? Do I need to sign for a package, delivery boy?”

The chuckle Namjoon lets out is pained and reluctant. “Was that what you were hoping for? It’s a bit more romantic than that.”

“Romantic is good,” you assure, letting his arms on your hips hold you steady as you lean back and search his face. “Do I get any more clues? Tell me something.”

When he blinks up at you, there’s something open and earnest in his gaze, like he’s left behind that shy boy that blushes at any mention of sex. “Let me show you, love.”

He cradles your back and lays you down on his bed so delicately it takes your breath away. Without speaking, he presses his lips to yours again, and once again you feel unanchored in an ocean, kept floating by the pressure of his proximity. Slower than usual, you move against each other; his hands bracing him up by the pillow, your leg hitched up over his waist to keep him close. Between the soft cushioning of his bed and the solid heat of his body, you feel secure and safe, eyes closed so that he fills your other senses entirely.

The sweetness of the maple syrup on his tongue and lips has long since melted away, but it leaves behind his natural flavour, one you think you prefer more. Aftershave still clings to his cheeks, tingling your nostrils, but past it is the bright candylike scent of his orange blossom shampoo, and they mix dizzily as the ends of his hair brush your skin.

Need begins to pool between your legs, but it doesn’t drive you, instead staying muted in the background like the pleasant heat of a bubbling jacuzzi, hips rocking lazily without any true purpose as you focus on the shocks of pleasure when your tongues connect.

It’s impossible to tell how long the two of you stay like that, no urgency or haste, just enjoying the intimacy and closeness of shared breaths and swollen lips. When he trails a hand down to slip under your shirt, even his slightly calloused fingertips running up your side is enough to make you whimper, sensitised to every touch.

Namjoon groans when his palm covers your breast, gripping it and swiping a thumb over your stiffened peak, arousing even through the fabric of your bra, his mouth only leaving yours for the second it takes to push your shirt over and off, connecting again with a small grunt of need.

Though Namjoon’s body is hot like a furnace against you, the open air still causes you to shiver, arching your back so Namjoon can blindly locate the hooks on your bra, able to slip it off you in no time at all.

This time, when his teeth tug at your lip and you feel the uninhibited contact of his fingertip tracing a circle around your nipple, it’s like a spike of electricity straight to your core, igniting that spark of full-blown arousal. Namjoon’s lips quirk against yours when you let a moan catch in your throat.

When he shifts down, you’re expecting his mouth on your breast, or perhaps him to sit up to take his own clothes off, but he doesn’t go nearly that far. Instead he presses your jaw up, exposing your neck but laying kisses on the underside of your chin first.

Perhaps it’s that you weren’t expecting that touch, or perhaps such a unique place isn’t used to that type of attention, but his swollen lips caressing just below your jaw feels magical, eyelids fluttering as he sucks so, so gently.

His hand never leaves your breast, massaging the flesh, tracing where your regular skin pebbles into the dusky areola, nail dragging teasingly over the bud, and your mind is working itself into knots trying to process all the sensations he’s stirring in you.

If his first time was thrilling, this was nothing short of electric, neon bursts of colour behind your eyelids the only thing you can see. As his kisses slowly venture lower, dipping to the base of your neck, pulse throbbing against him, you picture your nerve endings like purple strands of electricity in a plasma ball, lighting up with every touch of his fingers, lips and tongue to your skin.

“Na-Namjoon,” you gasp out, swallowing to ease the dryness in your throat, “don’t tease, I need you.”

Namjoon shifts lower, but not low enough, chin resting on your chest as he looks up at you with a pleased smile, clearly satisfied with his improvement from last time. “But love, there’s no rush. We have the rest of our lives, remember? To have and to hold,” he rumbles lowly, pressing  two light kisses to the top of your heaving breasts, “til death do us part.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh.”

Namjoon’s lip twitches. “Oh,” he repeats playfully. Goosebumps break out on the tops of your arms at this sudden brazenness. He’d clearly been doing plenty of talking with Hoseok, and to see his hard work pay off in your pleasured reactions probably gave him a burst of confidence. “Are you going to be patient for me now, love? Let me savour you?”

Your breath catches in your throat, so you just nod shakily.

Satisfied with your response, Namjoon quirks a lip before using the very tip of his tongue to trail a circle around your nipple, just wide enough that the bud strains for his attention. Your fingers clutch his sides, annoyingly still clothed, as he moves to the other one, still giving your nipple a wide berth. “C-come on, Joonie,” you complain hoarsely, “I need more.”

When he looks up at you from below his lashes and sucks one nipple slowly into his mouth, tongue pressing it against his upper teeth, you hiss sharply, releasing the air in a breathy moan. Namjoon suckles at you gently, still languid but no longer avoiding your most sensitive areas, and the hand not propping him up begins rolling the other one between his fingers, making you shudder.

You’re so wet between your legs it’s growing uncomfortable, and so you cant your hips up towards him, hoping he gets the message. He tuts at you, but pulls off your nipple with a wet pop and sits up to undress further.

Namjoon shucks his own shirt without ceremony before his fingers find your waistband, and you let him slide off your pants and underwear as you lie back and enjoy the sight of his thick chest and smooth stomach, a trail of dark baby hairs disappearing past his jeans that you didn’t remember noticing the first time you slept with him.

He takes off those jeans, his boxers too, and joins you on the bed again, running a warm palm up your side. “I want to taste you,” he announces simply, carding a hand through his hair to keep it out of your face.

“Fuck, please.” You watch with wide eyes as he lies on his stomach, hands dipping under your thighs to lift and part them. The exposed air has you clenching instinctively, and you swear you can see his eyes dilate at the sight. “Namjoon,” you whine, back arching in impatience.

“Shh, love, I’ve got you,” he assures, peppering kisses from just below your knees, down your thighs until you can feel his breath on your core. “So beautiful.”

You can barely breathe, head propped up on the pillow to stare down the plains of your chest and stomach to the insanely attractive man between your legs. Though you’d grown fond of the kinkier, wild scenes - in fact, your dreams at night had taken a turn since joining the show - something about seeing Namjoon so at his element in this domestic atmosphere has you dripping.

Like he has all the time in the world, he locks eyes with you and blows a wave of slightly cool air over your folds. You breathe out a groan, sending him what you hope is a convincing-enough pleading gaze. He smiles placidly, licks his lips, ducks his head even further, and-

And blows another stream, this time narrowed and colder, directly over your clit. You shudder and buck instinctively in his grip, his hands on your thighs keeping you spread.

“Come on,” you gasp out, “Hoseok’s made you into a fucking demon!”

“Oh, trust me,” Namjoon murmurs, “Hoseok’s version was way kinkier than this. I’m trying to be romantic and sensual.”

You shift again, fruitlessly trying to wiggle your hips closer. “It would be really fucking romantic if you would actually put your mouth on my-ah!”

Just like you know Hoseok would (you don’t know whether to thank him or curse him for this), Namjoon strikes when you least expect it, and when you most need it.

Though his mouth is small, his tongue is no less nimble, darting deeply through your folds to collect your juices and using them to slurp harshly at your clit. You jerk, hand shooting down to latch in his hair, but he continues that constant, unyielding vacuum until you’re squirming hopelessly beneath him, finally pulling off with the slightest graze of teeth.

“Happy now?” he retorts, swollen lips glossy with your slick. His hands tighten on your thighs. “Hold them.”

Invigorated by his command, you rush to grasp the backs of your knees, keeping your legs up and spread for him. “Fuck, so good, Joonie, w-want more.”

Now with two hands freed, it’s no surprise when two fingers find their way into your wet heat, twisting inside you with every smooth thrust. His chin is smeared with your wetness when he lowers it to continue laving his tongue over your sensitive clit, but he groans sinfully into you, like he’s getting just as much pleasure from it as you are.

Once he really gets going, he’s merciless, his fingers so thick that you don’t even need a third one to really feel him filling you, hooking up to rub at your g-spot every now and again to hear the involuntary whimpers you give out.

You hold onto your own knees for dear life, writhing under him as a hot coil tightens inside you. “Fu-fuck, Joonie, I’m getting close.”

His mouth detaches from your clit for a bare moment, enough for him to pant out a groan and stare lustily up at you. “Don’t cum yet,” he instructs lowly, “you’re going to cum on my cock this time, love.”

You whine, biting your lip harshly to try and distract from the building pleasure. “Then you have to- have to stop, Joonie,” you shudder out reluctantly.

To your surprise, Namjoon is even more begrudging than you are, tugging out his fingers to chase a last few indulgent licks up your seam before he finally sits up to kneel, panting. “Are you ready for me?”

You feel yourself grow impossibly wetter at the sight of him grasping his length, slipping it through your folds to slick it up. “Yes, god yes, I need it, need your cock,” you garble.

Namjoon’s eyes flutter shut for a moment, before he presses his head to your entrance, sinking in barely an inch to test your reaction. “Can’t wait to fill you up, love,” he admits, abs clenching with the effort it takes to sink in slowly. “Fuck a baby into you, my perfect girl.”

Your heart races at his words, clenching around. “God, yes, Joonie, please.” Though all the Gentlemen were well aware you were on birth control, there was something wildly erotic about the thought of it. “Fill me up, wanna be good for you.”

Finally he bottoms out, and your thighs shake at the stretch. With your hips tilted up, it almost feels like he’s fucking right into your stomach, so deep your mind struggles to process the sensations. He heaves a few breaths, giving you a chance to squeeze around him experimentally and grow accustomed to him filling you so completely.

You mumble out your permission for him to move breathily, the air punched out of your lungs when he pulls out only to drive deep inside of you in one slick thrust. Your mouth drops open once he begins to thrust, holding onto your knees for dear life as they tremble uncontrollably.

“God, look at you,” Namjoon pants out, chest heaving with excitement or exertion, perhaps a mix of both. One of his palms presses against the top of your stomach, increasing the pressure of his cock inside you. “‘Be so beautiful with my baby inside you, love, tummy swollen. I’ll take good care of you, would you like that?”

You have to squeeze your eyes shut to put all your focus into speaking. “Ye-yeah, I want that, Joonie,” you manage to articulate, his length keeping your mouth watering whenever he’s inside you. “Gonna be such a good daddy, Joon.”

Like a switch being flicked, Namjoon suddenly jerks, going rigid. Your eyes open blearily when he stills inside you, and you moan openly at the fucked-out look on his face, his eyes lidded and hair wild.

“S-say that again,” he commands, and your mouth drops open at the desperate grate to his voice.

So Namjoon liked to be called… “Daddy,” you whine experimentally, grinning when his cock twitches, hips juddering. “Want you to fuck me, Daddy, please move.”

“God, love, so fucking perfect for me,” he makes out before he starts off again with a renewed vigor, hands kneading at your breasts, at the flesh of your hips, at your ass as he lifts you up to meet his every thrust.

The feeling of him fucking into you so intensely has you feeling delirious, unsure if the ringing in your ears is actually the sounds of your own cries, torn from your throat with every slap of his balls against your ass, the weight of his hips jerking you into the pillow more and more every time.

You feel the pressure of his body hovering just above you, the angle of his thrusts changing, then suddenly his mouth is on your breast again, sucking harshly at the nipple. With the way your body moves beneath him, he can’t help but scrape his teeth against you a couple times, but it just makes the pleasure soar higher, neon starbusts of colour behind your eyelids when you squeeze them closed.

“Close again,” you warn desperately, losing the grip on one of your knees due to the sweat gathering there. With one up and one down, the angle changes again, and you reach out blindly to latch onto his upper arm, screaming at the heights of pleasure. “Can I cum this time, Daddy, please let me cum!”

“Fuck, give it to me, cum for me,” he growls out around your breast, and you see stars.

The orgasm that rips through you is powerful enough that all your senses fade suddenly away, unable to feel anything expect a rush of pleasure all the way down to your toes, boneless yet convulsing as he pistons his hips into you once, twice, three more times until he’s taken by the way you clench tightly around him.

He laps clumsily, wetly at your nipple as he spills inside you, before the two of you are completely drained of energy. Panting, heaving, you don’t even manage to catch your breath before you’re falling into slumber, Namjoon still inside you.

--

“He told us to wait here, right?” you ask anxiously.

There are six of you gathered on the couches in the lounge. Television off, the silence is weirdly uncomfortable. Perhaps that’s just because you know that everyone is waiting here not only to see Jimin, but to see what Jimin is going to do to you.

Hoseok, tucked into the smallest corner of the couch on the right, huffs lightly at your question. “He’s Jimin, Y/n. Either he’s up there primping or he’s just making you wait to be obnoxious.”

Perched beside him with a glass of whisky, two fingers full, Yoongi sends a droll glare to Hoseok. “Bold words for a man who’s choosing to watch the show.”

“I’m curious, sue me.”

“I think we all are,” Namjoon adds, curled up beside you in the central position of the three couches. “I think the only one that knows his prompt is Tae.”

Taehyung turns to answer, propped up against Jin’s side on the left, but the eldest interrupts, a crease of worry between his brows. “Not all of us, it seems,” he points out. “Don’t you find it strange that Jungkook isn’t here?”

“Does he know?” Taehyung wonders, fingers dipping into his pocket to reach for his phone.

Yoongi frowns. “He knows. He asked me not to make him anything for dinner tonight. Said he wasn’t feeling well. Didn’t seem like he was sick, just… distressed. I think you should talk with him, Jin.”

Jin sucks in a breath, pauses, and exhales again, jaw flexing. “Sure.”

The six of you lapse into a slightly strained silence again, before Namjoon gets restless, shifting beside you until he finally clears his throat and looks up at Yoongi. “What is for dinner, hyung?”

“We didn’t really have much for lunch, so I’m thinking steak and pasta,” the doctor offers up. “There’s some carbonara sauce in the pantry that looks good.”

Taehyung coughs nervously. “Do we have steak? I didn’t think there were-”

“We had plenty this morning when I checked,” Yoongi cuts in evenly. “Should I be aware of any recent developments?”

The masseuse pouts, leaning further into Jin’s side like he’ll protect him. “Well… It’s just that I feel so bad for Mango! The kennel I bought online isn’t as insulated as I hoped it would be and I know she gets lonely.”

Yoongi groans, going lax on the leather of the couch. “So you figured she’d what? Cuddle with the steaks?”

“I just figured maybe if I gave her nice food she’d cheer up,” Taehyung adds, “and it was just two! Are you mad at me?”

“No, I guess I’m not. Jungkook isn’t eating anyway, and…” Yoongi grins. “As penance, you can have plain pasta and watch the rest of us enjoy our perfectly cooked steaks.”

Taehyung throws himself against Jin dramatically, but even as he moans in misery, a relieved smile crooks at his lips. “I suppose,” he drawls begrudgingly, and once again a light atmosphere fills the room, like everyone’s just sighed out a breath of relief.

You lean onto the arm of the couch, facing Taehyung. “Tae, Jimin’s prompt isn’t too, like, intense, right?”

He cocks his head. “What do you mean? For him or for you?”

“Uh…” Your mind whirls blankly, cheeks heating up as you draw the attention of the other guys. “For- for me. So far some of the scenes have been pretty taxing, and I guess I just didn’t expect such a jump up from Week One.”

Instead of laughing or teasing, the others go a little solemn, perhaps even bashful. “Jimin’s isn’t super crazy, Y/n, don’t worry,” Taehyung assures quickly.

Yoongi bites down hard on his tongue, jaw popping. “We didn’t go too hard on you, did we?”

You suck in a breath. “I mean- No, not individually. It builds up though, you know?” Something niggles in the back of your mind, something you’ve wondered for a while. “Do you guys talk about it?”

Hoseok hesitates. “About fucking you?”

Your cheeks are on fire as you curl up small in the corner. “Not- Not that specifically, but just… Do you guys discuss who goes when and who has what? I kinda wondered why you spread yourselves out, if it’s just a coincidence or if you- Never mind, it’s stupid.”

“We kinda do,” Hoseok admits freely. “Like, obviously we don’t all sit down in a room brainstorming or something-” You don’t miss the way Taehyung and Namjoon instinctively lock gazes, though you can’t quite read their expressions. Hoseok continues, “but we do chat with each other and try and give each other space.”

Jin shrugs easily. “Yeah, like, I’ll just say in the groupchat, ‘I’m planning on doing my scene outside, look outside at your own risk’ or whatever.” The eldest stiffens as he’s fixed with several glares of alarm, including your own. “What? Were we not meant to tell her about the groupchat?”

Your mouth drops open. “You guys have a groupchat without me? I wanna see!”

“That defeats the purpose of you not being in the group chat,” Yoongi points out, though his grin is more sheepish than mischievous.

You make a noise of exasperation, ready to protest further, but before you can open your mouth the doorbell rings.

Everyone freezes.

After a moment, the doorbell rings again.

“You should go get it,” Taehyung supplies helpfully, eyes on you. “Might be interesting.”

Your heart picks up with the cool thread of adrenaline. It’s time. All eyes are on you as you sit up and make your way out to the foyer, the tile cool under your bare feet.

Though the door is a rich mahogany, clouded glass panels on either side betray a dark figure, perfectly still. Even though you can barely see the outline, there’s no deny the expectant tilt of their head belongs to none other than Jimin.

By the time you pad up to the door and turn the knob, his hand is outstretched to ring the bell a third time, and his mouth parts in surprise before giving you a pleasant beam.

You’d been wondering if he was meant to be a delivery guy, a mechanic, something along those lines, but your first glance over him proves you wrong.

His blue hair is glossy enough to reflect the light of the lamp above the doorway, curled in graceful swoops on his forehead and temples. Though he always wore makeup, it was clear he’s set to impress, with a bold russet red lip, powerful black eyeliner and a spot of gold under each eye.

He’s taller than usual, and you glance down automatically, to be greeted with the most gorgeous black heels, stiletto points giving him an extra few inches of height. The shoes make his legs look a mile long, and you suck in a breath as you follow them up, realising they’re completely bare, the only adornment a sinfully tight pair of black fishnets that dig in to his thighs and calves.

In fact, all he seems to be wearing otherwise is a black trenchcoat, falling to mid-thigh and with the sash tied so tightly it accentuates his narrow waist.

All put together, he looks like sin personified, the kind sailors drown for. You can’t help but want to dive in yourself. Trying to go along with the roleplay, you play dumb. “Do I, uh, do I know you?”

Jimin’s smile broadens as his arm falls, hand resting snugly on his hip. “You will soon, sweetness.” Usually one for pinks, nudes and clear glosses, seeing him suddenly in a deep red makes you realise just how full his lips are. You miss the feeling of them on you. “Did Taehyung not tell you I was coming?”

“Did Tae-?” You clear your throat, unsure how to proceed. This Jimin was Amazonian; bruisingly pretty and intimidating in his grace. “I guess not? Was he supposed to?”

His eyes crinkle empathetically, darting past you into the foyer. “Let’s talk inside, shall we? I’m not exactly dressed for the outdoors.”

“Oh, fuck!” you blurt instinctively, and you swear his lip twitches before you’re backing away hastily, ushering him inside. “I’m so sorry, please come in! Do you want me to take your coat? I don’t- I don’t know what you need.”

Jimin steps inside and closes the door behind him in one smooth motion, punctuated only by the click of his heels on the tile. He reaches out to pat your cheek, only somewhat condescendingly. “No wonder, sweetness, you didn’t even know I was coming.” That isn’t quite true, but in the scheme of things, you may as well not have known he was doing his scene tonight at all for all it’s helping you. “Why don’t you lead me to Taehyung? I assume he’s here.”

“Of course he’s- I mean, yes, he’s here. Right this way.”

The two of you only have a short trip to the lounge, where no doubt the other five have been straining their ears to eavesdrop, but every strike of his heels against the floor behind you has the hairs on the nape of your neck standing on end.

In the lounge, the guys are all turned around in their seats to shamelessly ogle Jimin, Taehyung the only one without the gobsmacked look on his face - though even he takes in an unsteady breath at how gorgeous the man looks.

You make your way to him, standing awkwardly in front of the couch that him and Jin share. Turning back to face Jimin, you can’t help but match Taehyung’s reaction. Jimin looks even more radiant in the decent lighting of the room. You can see now his trenchcoat is a lush fabric, slightly thicker than silk, and deeply matte. Around the inside of the collar is a faint embossed silver logo, promoting Chanel as the designer of that piece.

Ignoring the stunned silence of the room, Jimin slinks immediately to Taehyung, tipping his chin up with his knuckles. “Did you not tell Y/n about me, hm?” he questions with a faux pout. “Kept it a secret, our naughty Taehyungie.”

The masseuse wilts pleadingly under Jimin’s gaze, and the responding wicked grin makes you think that Jimin probably told him to keep quiet, only to tell him off for it now. “Sorry, Minnie,” Taehyung mutters nonetheless. “Wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Did you now?” Jimin lets go of him, stepping back. “I suppose we should get down to business, then. Are you all leaving, or do I have an audience tonight?” Glancing around imperiously, you watch as his eyes dart back and forth, smile faltering. His breath catches, eyes dull with disappointment that he quickly masks under a broad smile. “It’s just the six of you, then?”

Your heart aches as you think of the missing person still upstairs in his room. “Yeah, it’s just us.”

Always the professional, Jimin moves on without comment. “Well, then, sweetness; take a seat and get comfortable. You’re a lucky girl tonight.”

Your mouth feels dry even as it waters. Taking your seat beside Namjoon again, you watch in rapt anticipation as Jimin slips a hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone, fiddling with something on it as he strolls slowly into the center of the room, just in front of the television.

“We have a few rules,” Jimin announces. “No heckling, no getting drunk while I’m here, and no touching unless I give you permission. They’re simple, so I expect you to follow them. Got it?”

With his back to the group as he sets up his phone, you’re unsure who exactly he’s addressing, but some of you make general hums of confirmation, all the attention on Jimin.

When the music starts - a deep, thrumming beat with a sensual pace - you can see the change in him immediately, even from the back. His shoulders adjust, head tips back slightly like he’s letting it run through him, and his fingers find the knot of his sash.

You can barely comprehend the fact that Jimin is about to dance for you, breath caught in your throat when his hips begin to sway and the fabric of his trenchcoat loosens, slipping down just enough to reveal the tops of his shoulders, bare except two skinny black straps.

Following the groove of the music, he rocks his head back, hips shifting side to side, and lets the coat fall an inch at a time. A tight black bodice is revealed, structured leather with a soft velvet trim that covers most of his back. Sleeves dangling right at the ends of his fingertips, the coat dips just below the swells of his ass, which are clad in a racy g-string, a thicker band of lace low across his hips and a narrow one running down the middle of his cheeks. Letting the coat go completely, the last of his back silhouette is exposed, the leather garter straps that hold those fishnet stockings up.

“Shit!” Yoongi hisses under his breath, hands glinting in the light and whiskey glass significantly emptier than before. A dark patch spreads across one leg of his pants, evidence of him spilling his drink.

Though he was quiet, Jimin picks up on it, and turns smoothly, lightly surprised and heavily amused, watching Yoongi squirm in embarrassment as he approaches.

If the view from the back is breathtaking, seeing Jimin full-frontal is another level. The bodice has clearly been tailored for someone with a flat chest, but the shape no less speaks to the feminine style of a bra, roughly triangular leather covering the upper half of his chest to meet the smooth velvet straps. The whole piece is just short enough that it leaves a stripe of skin between fabrics, his hipbones jutting out gracefully and guiding your gaze lower, where the front of his lace panties strain with the size of his length, the tip threatening to peek out the top.

He’s hard, you notice with a start, and from the hazy look on everyone’s faces, they’ve noticed it too. Jimin likes this.

When he’s standing in front of Yoongi, towering over the other in his heels, he reaches out a hand silently, eyes darting to the glass in Yoongi’s hand.

The elder gulps, holding it up, blushing as Jimin wraps one hand around Yoongi’s wrist, and takes the glass from him with the other. In a graceful swill, he downs the last of Yoongi’s whiskey, not even wincing. Teasingly, he bends down to place the empty glass directly over Yoongi’s crotch, making him hiss.

Like he has all the time in the world, Jimin straightens up again and tugs the wrist in his grasp higher. Locking eyes, Jimin parts his lips and wraps them around the base of Yoongi’s thumb, sucking off the spilt liquor.

Yoongi groans lowly, cheeks stained red as his eyes flutter shut in a mix of pleasure and humiliation. As Jimin makes his way through all of Yoongi’s fingers, bobbing his head obscenely and swirling his tongue, you think you see the empty glass wobble on Yoongi’s lap, like his cock is twitching in his pants. Fuck. It’s not even you getting the full weight of Jimin’s attention and you already feel dizzy with need.

Once he’s done, Jimin lets go and Yoongi’s hand falls limply to his side. Satisfied, he moves to the center of the room again, hips fluid with the flow of the music.

A cursory glance around the room shows that you’re not the only one heavily affected. Beside you Namjoon is restless, shifting back and forth from spreading his legs to ease the pressure, and clenching them together to try and hide the bulge in his pants. Hoseok looks pale, eyes wide and locked onto Jimin’s ass as he walks away from their couch.

On the other side, Taehyung and Jin are significantly more shameless; Jin rests a hand on the back of Tae’s neck and tugs at the curls of hair there as the younger boy ruts against his thigh, curled into his side even as the two of them focus on the attraction in the centre of the room.

You can only imagine how fucked out you must look too, wriggling against the couch cushion seeking friction with your heart thudding in your chest. The effect is only heightened when Jimin locks his eyes to you and begins to dance.

One day, a few of you were gathered in this very lounge, having enough drinks to get a bit silly and uncoordinated. Jimin had told you all a little bit about his dancing career. From what he’d said, you formed this mental image of him in soft makeup and satin shoes, dainty but powerful in front of an adoring crowd. The way he spoke about music - too much of a heavyweight to be as incoherent as the rest of you - made it seem like it was his greatest love, a match made in heaven.

Though now pirouettes and grand jetés had been replaced by spread legs and lidded eyes, you could still see that passion he spoke of. It enchanted you like a snake charmer or a siren, and arousal entwines endlessly with awe in your stomach.

After what feels like the shortest eternity, the music of the first song fades out, and Jimin straightens up, exhaling a breath like he’s releasing its hold from his body to make room for the next.

The tune that fills the room next has a decently higher tempo than the first one, each beat punctuated by a clap, and he grins when he hears it, stalking forwards.

Between Jimin and the rest of you is a coffee table, and he makes his way around to Taehyung and Jin, eyes sparkling at how Taehyung straddles Jin’s thigh, blinking up at the dancer owlishly.

“Oh, baby,” Jimin coos, “enjoying the show?”

Taehyung nods, not shy but too wound up to speak.

At the lack of verbal response, Jimin grins, perching himself on Jin’s other thigh, making the eldest hiss. “Taehyungie,” Jimin calls in a sing-song voice, fingers winding into his hair, just above Jin’s, “you still haven’t paid me for my services, you know?”

“H-huh?” Poor Taehyung looks barely coherent, interrupted from his grind and staring weakly at Jimin’s glossy lips. You can’t imagine you’d be faring any better in his situation. “What- How do I pay you?”

Jimin faux pouts. “Normally I’m very expensive,” he admits lowly, but the room is silent apart from the music, and since it’s just playing from his phone, it doesn’t impede the rest of you listening in. “But I like you. I’ll take my payment tomorrow. You know what I mean, right?”

Taehyung nods dumbly, obediently, making the dancer grin wickedly.

Fixing his attention on Jin, Jimin trails his fingertips up his thigh and traces the outline of Jin’s cock in his makes, making him groan. “Take good care of my baby tonight, won’t you?”

Jin sucks in a shaky breath, eyes darting to Taehyung, but the curly-haired boy just whines and buries his face in the crook of Jin’s neck, a wordless display. “You got it, Min.”

From the other side of the room, a click of the tongue catches your attention. Hoseok is straight-faced, extricating himself from the corner of the couch to stand up and make his way out.

Jimin swiftly stands in front of him to impede his way. “Where are you going?”

Hoseok rolls his eyes with a shrug. “I came, I saw, I sated my curiosity. I’m not interested in waiting in line to be fondled, thank you very much.”

Jimin seems to have forgotten the music, eyes gleaming as he faces off the dom. “Poor baby too impatient to wait, hm? I’ll let you jump the queue,” he finishes in a husky voice, grinning.

Hoseok eyes the doorway behind Jimin, huffing impatiently. “Nice try. I’m not interested.”

Tipping his head to the side, Jimin’s brows lift in a mix of surprise and bemusement. “I’m inclined to disagree,” he says, taking a step closer so that only a sliver of air parts them. Hoseok stiffens, stubbornly avoiding looking at the dancer. “I’d venture a guess that you’re leaving so suddenly because you’re a little too interested.” Slow enough that Hoseok has plenty of time to refuse, Jimin runs his knuckles all the way down Hoseok’s front, brushing over his crotch. His grin widens, flashing white teeth. “Hmm.”

Hoseok scoffs and pulls himself away, neck and forehead slightly red. “Don’t get too cocky. It was from Taehyung, not from you, peaches.”

Even from the other side of the room, Jimin’s instinctual reaction is clear as day. His shoulders drop and his lips part, lashes fluttering before he can control the response.

If you didn’t miss it, Hoseok certainly didn’t either. He barks out a laugh, back in power again, and steps to Jimin’s side to pass him. “Knew it. Don’t miss me too much, then, peaches.”

Even as Jimin is shuddering at the petname again, Hoseok rears his hand back to smack Jimin’s ass with a sharp noise of impact, Jimin jumping forward with a startled squeak. “No touching!” the dancer hisses, one ass cheek already flooding with a sweet candy pink.

“Apologies,” Hoseok says with a teasing grin, already at the doorway, “I’ll see myself out.”

Jimin makes an indignant cry, but the older man is already bouncing up the stairs cheerfully. Determined to get the sexy atmosphere back, Jimin takes a deep breath and turns back to you all with a rueful smile, but it falters when the music fades out, the second song ending. “Ah,” he murmurs, “show’s over, kids.”

Namjoon, the only guy that hadn’t received any personal attention, sits up with a frown. “Wait, already?”

Jimin shrugs, smiling at him sweetly. “Sorry, Joon. Last song’s a private dance. Maybe another time.”

A private dance. Your breath quickens as Jimin turns off the next song that randomly came up on shuffle, collects his phone, and hitches his coat off the floor with the point of a stiletto, gathering it under his arm.

The others quietly start to stretch, sit up, Yoongi going to fill up his glass again. By the time Jimin makes his way to you, Jin has already lifted Tae up with a single arm under him, carrying the younger upstairs as Taehyung sucks shamelessly at his neck. Namjoon is slower to move, probably still a little worked up and edged from the show, but he joins Yoongi in the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone.

Once Jimin is directly in front of you, your breath stops. He’s gathered the lightest sheen of sweat from dancing, or perhaps that’s just the highlighter on his cheeks, and his eyes are hazed from the excitement of performing. He silently reaches a hand out to you with an enticing smirk.

You furrow your brow in confusion. “Not here?”

“I did say private. Unless you want me to fuck you where everyone can see?”

You gulp at the thinly veiled threat. “We can go.” You take his hand and let him lift you up with effortless strength, pausing when he looks at you expectantly. “Did I do something…?”

Jimin beams like you’re a cute but stupid pet. “I haven’t been here before, remember? Show me to your room, sweetness.”

“Oh!” You rush past him, hands catching to guide him out and upstairs. The thrill of excitement speeds your steps, and in no time at all he’s placing his coat and phone on your desk, guiding you to sit on the end of the bed.

The third song starts with the familiar smoothness of Beyonce’s voice, an older pop song that holds up still, and Jimin slips off the black straps of the bodice, another set directly below them. Arms tucking behind him, he begins to undo the clasps one by one.

“You were being very well behaved, you know, sitting there and waiting for your turn,” he muses, fiddling with the fabric behind him. “Now you get a reward.”

You don’t know what to say in response, just nodding wordlessly, but it seems he is content with that. After a moment, you notice the top half of the bodice pull away from his chest lightly, revealing not plain skin but more lace, matching the panties that struggle to cover his cock. He approaches you as he undoes the last few at the base, and slips smoothly between your legs, letting it fall to the side.

In front of you in all his glory, Jimin looks gorgeous, the inky swoops of his tattoo peeking out from under a sweet black lace bralette, the skinniest straps holding up the delicate cups. In the center is a tiny black satin bow, and you think you feel your heart give out a little at the sight of it.

Even in his pretty lingerie, he’s no less intimidating, and you shudder at the feeling of his eyes locked onto you, feeding on your reactions and pinning you to the bed.

“You like it?” the dancer asks, voice rough with arousal. You nod quickly, still too stunned for words. Jimin hums, winding a hand around the back of your neck. “Show me how much you like it.”

Before you can suck in a breath, his mouth descends on yours, and a shot of electricity runs through you as he spares no time for pecks and caresses. This kiss is nothing short of filthy, his tongue runs over your teeth, he bites your lips, he sucks on your tongue. You do your best to reciprocate enthusiastically, but there’s no question who’s in charge.

With how deep and primal it is, there’s no surprise when you feel your shared spit begin to collect in the corners of your lips and run down your chin. Jimin doesn’t stop, but lowers his mouth to lap it up, pushing it back in and continuing to fuck his tongue into your mouth.

You moan hopelessly into the kiss, hips rocking on the edge of the mattress fruitlessly and fingers holding on to his neck and shoulder for dear life. His teeth are sharp, nipping mercilessly at your bottom lip until your eyes sting, but it only serves to drive more need.

The music in the background livens up as it reaches the chorus, and suddenly the thought of the song finishing and him leaving you high and dry comes to mind. You tug yourself away from him, sucking the spit off your swollen lip. “Jimin,” you gasp out, “I want you.”

Jimin grins. Though his gloss is all but gone, the colour on his lips remains intact. “You aren’t gonna let me finish my dance, sweetness?”

“Wi-Will you still fuck me after the song ends?” you ask, feeling stupid for needing confirmation.

Jimin lets out a soft but condescending coo, hands squeezing your cheeks together so that your lips pout. “Poor baby just wants to get fucked, does she? Baby just wants a cock in her.”

Even as he mocks you, you can’t even defend yourself. “Please, Jiminie.”

He places a single light peck over your protruding and obscenely swollen lips. “Let’s make a deal; I’ll dance for the rest of the song, and if you can keep your hands to yourself, I’ll let you cum when I fuck you. Sound fair?”

At this point, you’d agree to anything, and both of you know it. “I can do it,” you insist even as your voice wobbles.

Instead of answering, Jimin begins to move, following the momentum of the music. Your hands lie at their sides, the duvet cool against your heated flesh.

He starts out easy, stepping back to give himself more space and slowly lowering into a crouch, the heels making his calves pop. Running his hands down his chest, fingers slipping under the lace, he sighs out like his own touch gives him unspeakable pleasure.

You grit your teeth. Watching him touch himself just makes you want to touch him more. He widens his legs, showing the place where the lacy band narrows down below his balls into a thin string. Whether it’s the angle or just the amount of moving he’s done, the tip of his cock has nestled up higher, poking out just to the side of his hip. Shamelessly, he runs a single fingertip over it, tapping so you can see the clear strands of precum that cling.

You let out an unsteady breath, relaxing slightly as the song begins to build to the final chorus. Not long.

Unfortunately for you, Jimin recognises the changing keys as well as you do, and he stands up smoothly, slinking towards you.

Instead of settling between your knees this time, he turns his back to you and bends down, folding himself in half to fully bare his ass. Hoseok’s handprint still pinkens the skin of one, and the sudden desire to reach out and see if it’s as warm to the touch as it looks overcomes you. You hiss and fist your hands in the fabric of the duvet cover, making Jimin stretch up with a laugh.

Merciless, Jimin widens his stance, choosing to sit on top of your lap, ass grinding on you. You can imagine this movement would be much more unbearable for a guy, but you still feel your resolve unravelling, taken by the fluidity of his hips, the lace accuentuating his slender waist, the pressure of his head as he tips it back onto your shoulder.

“This is so unfair,” you complain shakily, and are rewarded with the musical giggle Jimin lets out, bubbling from his arched throat right into your ear.

Luckily, the chorus ends, and the final notes settle down. Jimin’s hips still and he turns his head, lips just about brushing your cheek. “Good job, sweetness,” he praises warmly, “can I have another kiss?”

Your jaw jerks automatically before you catch yourself. Though it’s fading out, the song technically hasn’t ended yet. “Not yet.”

Shameless even as his ruse is exposed, Jimin just beams and twist around so that he’s straddling you face-on. He lowers his mouth to your collarbone, nibbling at the skin there as the beat fades and the overlaying instruments peter out. Though it must only be ten or fifteen seconds, it feels like forever as he rocks himself against you just like Taehyung had done to Jin - albeit less desperate and more strategic - and licks at the bite marks on your neck.

Finally, it goes silent, and you exhale deeply, hands automatically coming up to rest on his hips as he laughs lightly at your successful efforts. “I’m impressed,” he admits, “guess you get your reward after all, sweetness.”

So relieved that the heat between your legs will get some attention, you barely take notice of him standing up off you, at least not until he slips his cock fully out of the panties.

His cock, straining with being left unattended so long, is a far deeper pink than the mark on his ass, particularly around the head. He sucks in a breath through his nose as he strokes himself, before blinking down at you.

“Clothes off if you want me, sweetness.”

You could guarantee you’ve never undressed so quickly before, frantically enough that your hips are hot from the friction of tugging down your pants. You take no note, however, just spreading your legs wantonly as you eye up his cock.

“Fuck, look at you,” Jimin curses, bracing a hand on your hip as he lines himself up. “Don’t even need stretching, do you? Looks like Joonie opened you up for me already.”

Your cheeks burn, but there’s not enough time to dwell on the embarrassment, as Jimin holds you down with his grasp on your hip and bottoms out in a single thrust.

Even though he’s right, the sudden fullness has you gasping a moan, almost falling onto your back. You prop yourself up and widen your legs further, eyes locked on the sight of his cock, nestled underneath by the lushest black lace, buried deep inside you. “Fuck, please move.”

“My pleasure,” he coos with a sweet smile, before the smile drops to a slack pout of lust, snapping his hips with a deftness that you now know is due to his background as a dancer.

You fight to keep yourself sitting up, one hand around the back of his neck as he fills you with every stroke, but the angle isn’t quite right, and you find your pelvis shifting to find it.

Jimin notices your frustration, and wordlessly pauses, grips your thighs and tugs you forward so that you’re flat on your back, ass over the edge and held up by his upper body strength. Without you even processing the change, he’s returning to his ruthless place, and you sob from relief at the way your insides come alive with pleasure, so much stronger than before.

“Fuck, right there! Right- ungh, yes, Ji-Jimin,” you pant out, feeling unbearably hot all at once with the intensity of it.

Though part of you is still sore from the scene you had with Namjoon earlier, your swollen walls only increase the drag of him against your sensitive tissue, and you quickly turn incoherent, tongue so thick in your mouth that you open it, panting as your fingers clutch the duvet to anchor you.

“That good, huh?” Jimin notes with a laugh stuttered by grunts of exertion. Normally, you’d protest or retort, but with your ankles wrapped around him and back arching off the bed, there’s nothing on your mind but the enveloping urge to cum.

Rather than reply, you just let yourself drown in the sensations, vision going black as your eyes roll into the back of your head.

Your orgasm comes so fast that you don’t even notice it approaching, can’t even warn him. It’s like a clap of thunder, making you go stiff with a scream before turning completely boneless, legs slipping down off him weakly.

Jimin curses as you squeeze around him, but fucks you through it thoroughly, only slowing down once you begin to fuss, shivering and wriggling away.

Dazed from the sudden onslaught of pleasure, it takes you a few moments for the fog in your brain to clear. Once you do, you glance down and realise Jimin is still achingly hard, dripping with your slick and the remnants of Namjoon’s cum, but none of his own. He strokes it lazily, gaze searching your face.

So exhausted from two intense scenes in one day, you don’t think you could manage to jerk him off or give him a decent blowjob, but to leave him hanging would be cruel. Instead, you fumble to slide yourself off the bed, landing a little too hard on your knees.

“What are you- oh, Y/n, fuck,” Jimin exclaims lowly as you blink up at him and open your mouth, sticking your tongue out. He gets the message easily, speeding up his strokes as his tip bounces on your tongue, brief sparks of the salty tang of your shared arousal.

He must have been close before, because it doesn’t take him more than a minute to fall over the edge, cumming into your mouth with thick spurts. A shame it couldn’t have been inside you a different way, but you nonetheless chase his cock, blade of your tongue dipping into his slit to make sure you’d gotten every last drop.

Jimin swears lowly, stroking your hair back fondly as you swallow, and helps you stand up on wobbly legs.

Leading you to the bathroom, Jimin sits you on the closed toilet seat as he runs a bath. Having slipped off his heels somewhere back in the room, he unhooks his garters as he waits for the tub to fill. With one leg resting on the high edge of the tub, rolling down the fishnets one at a time, you once again are silenced in awe of his beauty.

It feels unspeakably intimate to watch him unclasp the bralette, slip off the panties, and slowly take his makeup off, easily locating the makeup remover he’d borrowed from you that very first night.

Your eyes sting a little as you’re reminded of that time. It feels like an eternity ago, even though it’s just under a fortnight. You’d thought he was so intimidating back then. Though he still had the power to command attention, you’d seen enough of the kindhearted, thoughtful and sensitive man beneath that the Jimin two weeks ago felt like a very different man.

“Water’s ready.”

You blink yourself out of that train of thought, letting Jimin help you carefully into the tub, joining you on the other side, legs tangled. “Thank you,” you manage to say, still feeling a little out of it after a tiring day and a good orgasm.

Jimin beams, glancing away to obscure some of his face. It’s clear to you that the lack of makeup has him feeling a bit vulnerable. His skin is flushed red - either naturally or from exertion you couldn’t tell - and his brows were softer, eyes looking smaller without the shadow that emphasised them. He wasn’t any less beautiful like this, just more human. Comforting, in a way, as he passes you a washcloth and begins to lather himself up in strawberry-scented bodywash.

“Hey, Y/n,” Jimin starts, but his voice sounds weirdly stilted and unlike him.

“Mm?”

“My, um, my…” He lets out a light cough, avoiding your gaze with an air of forced aloofness. “Granny keeps asking about you. She’s convinced we’re dating, but that’s, uh, I’ve assured her we aren’t. She really liked you, and whenever we chat she asks to speak to you, and, um…”

You feel more coherent than you have in a good couple hours, sitting upright. “She does?”

Jimin laughs ruefully. “I never really knew how to ask you if you wanted to speak to her, or if I should even ask you at all-”

“So you thought now, while we’re both naked in a tub after you fucking my brains out is the right time?”

Jimin’s cheeks colour more as he splutters. “You can say no, I just didn’t want you to… I don’t know. You can say no.”

You beam at him. “I have one rule.”

“What?”

“I’ll hang out with Mrs. Park on one condition.”

The blue-haired boy stares at you warily. “Which is?”

You lean forward with a deadpan expression on your face, making him grimace in worry. “You let me sleep in your bed tonight,” you explain gravely, “I’m running out of options for this Bangasm Bomb thingy, and it’s only fair after you just took me out of commission like that.”

Jimin laughs in relief, throwing his head back with a joyous grin. “Deal! Don’t scare me like that.”

You return his smile, heart swelling from the fondness you hold for him. “Of course I’ll chat with your grandma, Jimin. I love her. She reminds me of you a lot.”

You may have said too much, but Jimin goes lax against the opposite end of the tub, smile never leaving his lips, and you don’t regret it for a second.

[wherethewordsare]

#44. Im your new neighbor and git locked out, help. With uhhhhh tiktoker jask who likes to sing in the stairwells 👀 bonus points if they become boyfriends loooool

thanks for the ask Cheese!!! I hope you enjoy!! <3

I also want to thank @buttercupbard for being a really amazing sport about me borrowing their handle for the tik tok bits!!! I’ve sent some weird dms in my life but honestly, that was the oddest CYA i’ve ever done. I’m super glad it worked out though!!! Thank you again so much, Buttercup! 

44. I’m your new neighbor and I got locked out, help!

The first time he heard it, Geralt had been taking his laundry down to the bottom floor because the units on his level were full. It was only for a moment, but who ever it was who was singing scurried away before he had a chance to make out the song they were singing. 

The second time, he had passed the door to the stairwell on his way to grab his mail. This time though he was careful as he pushed the door open as gently as he could. The lyrics to Blackbird resonated in the concrete and steel and it made Geralt want to call home. It was a song he remembered his father singing at the kitchen sink while doing clean up in the evening or working in the garage on weekends. 

Geralt tried not to be a creep about it, but it was quickly becoming a habit that was hard to break, sneaking into the side stairwell and listening to one of his neighbors sing. It felt somewhere between a terrible invasion of privacy and a private concert. 

There were songs that made him ache with nostalgia, where he ended up calling his dad after or texting his brothers. There were songs that made him want to go work out and go get something accomplished. And then there were those songs that made him want to climb the stairs and face that voice and take them into his arms because he sounded so lonely. Geralt usually slipped back out when those feelings started to creep in. 

Omg, Geralt, you have to see this dude! He’s insane!

Eskel sent him a link to a tik tok. It took a moment but after it loaded, Geralt nearly threw his phone across the room as if it had burned him. The only thing that stopped him were the blue eyes and brilliant smile that looked back at him. 

@buttercupbard 

I think my fan is back on the lower floor. Hope he enjoys today’s #lavieenrose 🙌🎶🌹🌹

Oh... Oh no! No no no, this could not be happening. Geralt watched, listening to the same rendition of La Vie en Rose he had heard the day before. Geralt knew only just enough about tik tok to know that the 500k under the little heart and the fact that he knew that this Buttercup Bard had only sung that song yesterday, he could deduce the facts in front of him. One, the singer knew Geralt snuck in to listen, and two, so did his probably thousands of fans.

Geralt clicked the little chat button on the side, pulling up the comments. 

“You should go say hello!”

@buttercupbard: Oh no, I don’t know if they’d like that, otherwise they would have come up to say hello by now! 

“Wouldn’t it be sweet if they found your tik toks?”

@buttercupbard: 👀👀🙈🙈🙈 Think they’d give me a review? Three words or less!

He wanted to scream. He wanted to run. He wanted to walk up those stairs and be able to drink in the full view of this Buttercup Bard as he sang knowingly to an audience of one. He wanted the earth to crack open at his feet and swallow him whole. 

He went back to the video and pulled open Buttercup’s account, scrolling through what seemed like a lot of videos for just a few weeks. He found the one labeled Blackbird and gave it a listen. The caption simply said “This might be the last time I can sing here, someone came in again.” 

Geralt frowned as he paused the video, looking down at those bright blue eyes that kept flitting away from the camera to make sure no one was coming. Geralt remembered standing at the bottom of the stairwell, leaning against the cold concrete with eyes closed. It had been peaceful but now it felt as though Geralt had just been encroaching. He couldn’t go back, not now. What would he say if Buttercup came down. 

He also had to stop calling him Buttercup, but he had no other name for him. Geralt stopped going to the stairwell and he did his best to not pull up tik tok once in a while just to get his fix. He was doing fine, at least for a little while.

It was about three weeks later when Geralt finally broke down and opened the app he had downloaded just to watch Buttercup sing. That’s when he noticed the little pink ring around his icon. 

Buttercup was live right now. Geralt’s feet moved under him without his noticing, walking him to the door. His hand was on the handle as he watched, his whole attention on the screen in his hand. 

“I don’t know what happened to them. I guess I wasn’t meant for that kind of cheesy romance story after all!” Buttercup laughed and it sounded like a melody all in itself. Comments rocketed passed and Jaskier chuckled, ducking his head. “Well, you never know, I can’t be everyone’s cup of tea. Do you guys want to hear another song? I was thinking some Presley if you guys-” More comments poured in and Buttercup beamed. 

That’s when Geralt heard his door shut behind him. Locked. Fuck. 

He dropped out of the live stream and texted Eskel who took a few minutes but finally shot back that he was stuck at work and on the other side of the county. Geralt was going to have to find something to do until he could run over with the spare. 

Fuck. 

He couldn’t well stand in the hall barefooted. He looked down at his phone and sighed. There was only one thing to do. 

----

“Like a river flows, surely to the see, Darlin-” Jaskier gave his camera a wink, chuckling through the lines but below the door opened. 

“Uh, excuse me, Mr. Bard?” a voice came up, low and uncertain. 

Jaskier gasped, looking in the camera as the chat exploded. He put a hand over his mouth and winced.  

“Hello?” Jaskier dropped his head into his hand biting the inside of his lip. When he heard footsteps on the stairs he looked back at his phone and mouthed ‘Got to go’ and blew a kiss. Hopefully it didn’t lose him followers. 

Suddenly the follower count didn’t matter. When Jaskier looked up he was greeted by a wall of a man, his white hair pulled back and the most startling hazel eyes. His bare feet wriggled on the linoleum. 

“I hate to be a bother, and I know you were in the middle of something,” the man suddenly looked like he wanted to bolt. 

“You’re the one who was listening down a few flights,” Jaskier couldn’t help the grin that was breaking out on his face. His followers were going to flip. 

“Ah shit, sorry about that I feel like… I should go.” The man turned away from Jaskier and started to make his way back down the steps. 

“Wait. Wait, no. Don’t go. Stay, please. Why aren’t you wearing shoes?” His damn mouth got ahead of him. 

“I’m locked out of my apartment,” he stood there, looking up through the rail, frowning. 

“I… Jaskier.”

“What?” 

“My name. It’s Jaskier. Mr. Bard was my father,” he smirked, taking a step down. “Would you like to wait at my place until someone comes to your rescue? I have carpeting and coffee?” 

The other man laughed, leaning to press his forehead against the rail for a second before looking up. “It would be appreciated. I’m Geralt from 2C.” 

Jaskier tilted his head and smiled. “Well while we wait, Geralt of 2C, you can finally give me a review of my singing.”

“Hmm,” Geralt let himself be led up the rest of the stairs, “Am I restricted to three words or less?” 

Jaskier flushed and snorted. And to think he nearly made a habit of doing his videos in this bathroom.

---

You can drop me a prompt from this list here!!

Tag list as it stands now <3: @jaskierswolf @geraskier-trashh @elliestormfound @artistsfuneral @thetinymm @fontegagrilledcheese @anythinggoesfandoms @electricrituals 

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Peter Parker’s Younger Sibling

Peter Parker x sibling!reader

warnings: bullying mention, blood mention

a/n: a fuckin reach, its been a WHILE since ive seen tasm

prompt: y/n is peter’s sibling

peter and you were playful kids

you were just a year and some months younger than him, so you had a harder time remembering your parents than him

but he always told you stories about them that made you miss them a little more

peter was a genius, we all know it

he was the one helping you with your homework most nights

“peter i cant do it!”

“that’s okay, y/n. look, start with two times four, that’s eight, then four times six, twenty-four, right?”

“can i say a cuss word?”

“sure”

“math is shit”

you would cry during homework a lot

you’d also pass out on his floor after talking for hours

and you’d either wake up facedown on the floor or in your room since uncle ben would pick you up and put you to bed

peter took it upon himself to take you back to your room, but he usually dragged you by the arm, sooooo

you’d play action figures together

he was batman, you were robin always

“can i be batman?”

“oldest gets to be batman so im batman”

“but i wanna be batman!”

peter walked you to your school before taking off on his skateboard

and he’d pick you up on his way home

on half-days your brother taught you how to skate

you fell a lot

aunt may had to patch you up

“how many times do i have to tell you those skateboards are dangerous?!”

peter got you your own skateboard so that you could practice without him

you would text him after you did a trick and he’d always say hell yes! show me when i get home!

being his photography assistant

really you were his assistant constantly

science fair was the most boring day of the year

“y/n, stand right here, i need to get something from my locker”

*judges walk up while youre left unattended and in a state of PANIC*

you were bullied in middle school, same as peter, he’d always stick up for you and get beat up instead

it made you very mad but it was scary, too

“how’d you get into this fight, peter?”

“oh, you know, just happened”

“peter was sticking up for me, uncle ben”

“was he now? you’re a good brother, peter”

lonely when he moved onto high school :/

but you got there soon enough

you guys were kind of loners, just ate lunch together, lugged around your skateboards, you were an artist, he was a photographer

just spectating the chaos of high school, rolling your eyes at the drama

“i have two bucks, do you want anything from the vending machine?”

“uhh, a coke?”

you saw peter get bullied by flash and lost your shitttt

you actually started a food fight after throwing mashed potatoes in his eyes

“what the hell, parker?!”

“sit down and eat your goddamn food, flash, or next time it wont be potatoes”

peter was half-proud, half-embarrassed

trying to see how long you could skate through the halls before any authority figures stopped you

sometimes......you guys got sent to the office together :)

*phone ringing* “hello, is this ben parker?”

“which one of them is it this time?”

the principal’s office was a trip sometimes

you and peter exchange your glances and wait to get scolded

“ah, the parkers, come in, lets have a chat...why do you two always feel the need to get in trouble together?”

“we just happen to get along really well for siblings”

no you fuckin dont lmaoooo

it was always something with you two

like always

*banging on peter’s door* “I KNOW YOU HAVE MY BROWNIES, PETER, GIVE THEM BACK”

*peter through a mouthful of brownies* “I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOURE TALKING ABOUT, YOURE CRAZY”

“is that my jacket?” -peter

“you mean my jacket?”

“y/n, i swear to god if you steal any more of my clothes it’s over for you”

“well, aunt may keeps giving me your clothes, so take it up with her”

and then there was just the little annoying things

“peter, can you stop clicking your pen?”

*clicks pen faster*

“you’re the worst”

and my personal favorite

“peter, open the door”

“why?”

“emergency”

*opens bedroom door* “what?”

“aunt may is making meatloaf”

“shit, uh...get your board, we’ll skate to mcdonalds and tell her we already ate”

peter and you RARELY ever brought your parents up until he found your dad’s briefcase, you didn’t have much to say

soon he was flooding his room with conspiracies and pulling you in to explain them

he began acting REALLY weird, but he was pretty open with you, he told you he went to oscorp

“YOU SNUCK IN??”

“your standards for me are way too high, y/n”

soon you started to feel not-so-good and weird things started to happen

“peter??”

“yeah? whats up?”

“this is gonna sound really weird...my hand is stuck to the door”

“it happened to you, too??”

“happening, pete. wait—this happened to you?? what is this???????”

yall done fucked up and got bit by spiders peter had so carelessly brought back into the house

it was an adjustment to say the least

and this adjustment got a whole lot harder that one night...you can remember peter just...so upset

you tried to chase him out to make sure he was okay, but uncle ben told you to stay with your aunt

maybe if you’d have been there...it would’ve been different, but when the cops got to your house you were at a loss for words

peter was covered in his blood still

“hey, hey, just breathe, okay? it’s not your fault, peter. just hop in the shower, yeah? i’ll take care of your clothes”

when peter took your advice and you were left alone, you just cried, you cried until he finally found you curled up in a ball in your room

then he cried, you just hugged each other sobbing your eyes out

peter got distant for a while, which was rough since the two of your were mourning for your uncle and dealing with these newfound powers

sooner or later he came around and helped you out, designing webshooters and a suit for you

“we match?”

*sigh* “yeah...yeah, we match”

ah yes, spider-team

you really tripped out new york at first, they thought spider-man was a teleporter

peter was still talking about your dad, but you really didn’t care, uncle ben was always going to be who raised you

you and peter would be covered in bruises after going out

“uh—peter punched me”

“y/n???!!!”

“I PANICKED”

just being dumb scared teens that cant function to save their lives until they get a little bit lucky

seriously like, every big villain you guys fought was just the worst

peter didn’t help all the time, he was good at provoking them sometimes

“hey, spider-man, you mind shutting up for a minute? for my sake?”

“sorry, sorry, just couldn’t help myself!”

he gushed to you about gwen stacy, he actually dragged you to her apartment to be patched up by her SEVERAL TIMES

yadda yadda yadda peter graduated high school! how cool is that? but he was late (what a surprise) even though you put off spidering today just for this

but he made it and you clapped the loudest for him

“thats my brotherrrr!!!”

cute family picture! (aunt may printed a bunch of them and gave them to you two and peter pinned them to his wall)

you and peter actually have a lot of pictures of the two of you just goofing off

he has one of you stuck in a trash can that cracks him up every time

seeing harry osborn again after YEARS

“wow, y/n, last time i saw you i just thought you were peter’s annoying little sibling”

“aww, it’s good to see you, too”

electrooooo

this guy really worried you bc like, bzzzz shock

you and peter weren’t equipped for that

it took a while, but you were finally able to deal with that

and several other problems

including peter’s breakup, which was a whole ordeal of its own

*peter laying upside down on your bed* “i dont know, y/n, you know? i wanna be with her so bad, i love her...but her dad is haunting me”

*you, drawing on your notepad with your legs propped up on his* “yeah, makes sense”

you actually had to tap out during the end of electro, you were hurt pretty bad

“y/n, hey? yeah, you’re okay. stay here, just stay right there, i’m gonna be back for you”

*thumbs up to show youre still alive*

but when peter came back for you there was bad news, he’d lost gwen

he ripped his mask off and fell to his knees, you could barely move but you powered through it, giving him a hug while he cried

“we...we better get home before aunt may starts to worry”

she was at work, so you two had the place to yourselves to clean up and mourn before the official news was revealed

“i should have listened to her dad, y/n, this is all my fault”

he was a mess, you couldn’t bare seeing him like this. it’s been so long since you’d seen him like this

the funeral was rough, peter was grasping onto your shoulder the whole time

he insisted that he was going to stick behind and stay with gwen for a while

“okay, i’ll see you at home...love you”

“love you too”

you gave him a hug and left him to his business, the next few months you were the only spider-person operating in new york...until rhino popped up

“im coming with you”

“you’re sure?”

“yeah, im sure”

(these are kinda ass but anyways im tagging my marvel ppl even tho ik this isnt mcu so just ignore this post if you dont care, sorry!!)

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @rorybutnotgilmore // @locke-writes // @sweetheartliz07 // @queen-destenie // @natasha-danvers // @allthecreativeonesaretaken // @frostedgiant // @praellee // @emygirl // @lotsoffandomrecs //

[samwinchestersgf]

obsession (part three)

prompt: “oh my god! he’s obsessed with you!”

warnings: horror, gore, obsessive weirdo, protective sam. language. nothing worse than what’s in the show, but still unsettling

read part one (here) and part two (here)

another cold slice of the blade makes me thrash in my seat. i could give up. i could give him what he wants, but that wouldn’t end the pain. besides, external pain in easier to deal with than internal pain.

my head slumps and my chin is almost touching my chest. bryan tilts my chin up with the knife. “you can always just tell me you love me, not sam. this can all stop.”

“it seems like you’re enjoying this too much. i’ll pass.” i glare.

i cry out as he cuts through my jeans for the fourth time. he yells, “say it!”

“go to hell!” i yell back.

he lowers himself, so that he’s eye level to me. “darling, it’s been a day. sam isn’t coming. so, you can either keep wasting both of our time, or admit that you love me.”

“i’m not a liar.” my voice is pure venom.

he grabs me by my cheek. “so say you love me.”

i spit at him. he wipes the spit off of his cheek and walks away, his hands behind his head. “i don’t know what to do with you.”

“you could let me go.” i propose.

“and have to go to the police, no way.” he scoffs.

“you’re really amateur at this.” i remark.

“i’ve never fucking kidnapped someone before.” he pauses. “i’ve never felt this way about someone before.”

i look at him pensively. “i don’t know if you know this or not, but this is not normal.”

“being in love in normal,” he argues.

“it’s beyond that, now. you’re not in love with me; you’re obsessed with me.” i correct.

“is there really that big of a difference?” he rolls his eyes.

“huge difference.” i laugh.

he pulls up a chair. “teach me.”

“teach you?” i raise an eyebrow.

“teach me the difference.” he demands again, sitting down.

“well, first of all, when you love someone, you don’t speak to them like that.” i start, deciding to play along. “because you’d never hurt them on purpose, even if it was for their own good.”

“you’re making things up,” he scoffs.

“i’m not. when you love someone, it hurts you to see them in pain. so, if you love someone, you learn to let them go.” i tell him.

i remember back to the time i had to let someone go. sam liked this other girl, and even though it killed me, i stayed quiet. sure, it was partially because i didn’t have the nerve to do anything else, but even if i did, i wouldn’t have. he was happy. i consider telling bryan this story, but it would only make him mad.

“what does being in love feel like?” he asks.

“calm.” i answer. “you can still get butterflies, but being in love with someone means you’re comfortable enough around them to be yourself.”

bryan raises an eyebrow, “are you in love with sam?”

i laugh darkly. i feel my mental walls breaking. it’s been a day. it’s dark, and cold, and dusty. warm, red liquid is everywhere, and i taste copper. i don’t have the energy to keep fighting.

“sam isnt even my boyfriend.” i blurt. “we’re not in love yet, but i love him.”

“you lied?” he stands up.

“yes, i fucking lied. i’m stupid enough to get into a stranger’s car, but i’m not stupid enough to let him think i’m single.” i laugh again.

he cuts my hand. “that’s for lying.”

“cut my tongue out.” i roll my eyes.

“that’s disgusting.” he drops the knife and walks away.

“what? am i too much for you now?” i call out.

“yes! you’re too fucking much for me right now.” he blows up. “it wasn’t supposed to be like this!”

“love isn’t all roses, bryan.” his name is like belladonna.

“well, it’s gonna be. you’re gonna crack, okay?” he yells.

“can you put up with me that long? i can be more annoying, just wait.” i match his volume.

“i don’t know! will you shut up?” he rubs his temples.

i hum, “you don’t love me.”

he marches over and grabs my face roughly, slamming his lips against mine in the most unpleasant way. i stay still, not breathing, not blinking, not moving, until he pulls away. it doesn’t feel anywhere near the feeling i had when sam kissed me.

“why won’t you kiss me?” he looks offended.

“you fucking cut me.” i scoff.

he pinches his nose. “i’m not patient enough for this.”

“let me go?”

“or i could just leave.”

“further proving my point that you don’t actually love me.” i call out to him.

“i do love you, and i always will. i want you stop saying i don’t, because you don’t know how i’m feeling.” he blows up again.

i shake my head. i can’t even respond to him anymore. i’m tired, and cold. i’m starting lose hope. i’m starting to lose faith in sam.

he picks up the knife again, sighing. he lazily runs in across my left cheek, making the two gashes that are already there sting even more.

suddenly, i can hear sirens. i lift my head up and look at bryan. “think they’re coming here?”

“you better hope they aren’t.” he knicks my jaw.

the sirens grow closer and closer, until it’s evident that they’re right outside. bryan freezes, dropping the knife. he looks around, frantic. there’s a door behind me, but he’s not that stupid. he knows they’ll catch him.

“what are you gonna do, buddy?” i ask, smug.

“shut up!” he shouts, “i can’t think!”

the door is kicked down. a swarm of police officers walk in, catching bryan red handed. “hands up!”

he throws his hands up. “i can explain.”

“step away from the girl!” the police officers shout.

i let myself relax a little bit, until bryan speaks. “i was just coming in here to save her.”

“is that true, ma’am?” they ask.

“no.” i say coldly.

the police whisk him away, and emergency responders rush in, untying me and helping me outside. the bright sun outside makes my eyes sting and water. in the corner of my eye, i see sam stand up and get out of his car. they walk me over to him.

“do you think we need to take her to the hospital, mr. winchester? she’s not in any medical danger.” one emergency responder asks.

“i’ve got her, thank you.” he nods. he slips his arm under my shoulders and helps me into the passenger seat of his car.

he doesn’t speak until the door is shut. his voice is tender, and quiet. “what did he do to you?”

i can’t even look at him. “nothing too bad.”

“you’re exactly like dean...” he shakes his head, huffing gently. i want to respond, but i don’t know what i’d say.

“i’m-“

“don’t say your sorry.” he stops me. “just stop.”

i shake my head and sigh. the buzzing of the engine and the low hum of the radio lures me dangerously close to falling asleep. my body dares me to try to stay awake, but i decline. i let my body have what it wants. i sleep.

—————————————

“ah... damnit.” i hiss, eyes still closed.

“i was hoping you’d stay asleep for this part.” sam remarks quietly.

“i’m fine, i’m fine.” i open my eyes and look down at him. he’s cleaning the cuts on my legs with alcohol, and damn, it hurts. “we... we obviously need to have a conversation.”

“do you really want to do that now?” he raises an eyebrow, not pausing.

“might as well rip off both bandaids at once.” i joke. “go ahead, yell.”

“i’m not gonna yell.” he states calmly.

“you want to.” i insist.

“i don’t want to yell,” he restates. “are you gonna listen if i don’t?”

“i’ll listen.” i nod quietly, taking a sharp inhale when he starts cleaning the next wound.

“i care about you, so, so much. i thought you understood that.” he doesn’t look at me yet. i remember two nights ago when he kissed me.

“i understand it, sam.” i respond.

“then, why would you go out and do something reckless like that? do you have any idea how terrified i was all day?” his voice breaks. “i tracked your phone to his house, and i tracked it to that abandonded place, and the whole time, i was terrified.”

“i’m sorry, sam.” my chest drops.

“why did you do it?” he asks, bandages a cut.

“i wanted to let him know that i wasn’t gonna talk to him anymore,” i swallow.

“you couldn’t have texted him? or, waited for me get home? or, hell, at least have told me where you were going?” he questions.

“i wasn’t thinking,” i admit.

“i know that,” he sighs and finally looks up at me. “i’m not even mad.”

“it would be easier if you were,” my voice breaks in sync with my heart when i see his eyes. his expression is hard, but there’s a hint of softness and worry that makes me want to crumble.

“i already have someone in my life that is stupidly brave, y/n.” he drops his cleaning supplies and grabs my hand.

i squeeze his hand ever so slightly. “yeah?”

“i... i don’t want you to be that person. i want you to be cautious.” he rubs my hand with his thumb.

“that’s just not me.” i swallow.

“i don’t wanna lose you. i just got you; i can’t lose you.” he reiterates.

i sit all the way up. i hesitate, my eyes flicking from his eyes to his lips, and in one swift motion, i close the distance. despite the butterflies in my stomach, i’m calm. i pull back quietly, letting out a slow breath.

he doesn’t say a word. we both already know what he’s thinking. he’s extra gentle when he resumes cleaning my wound. when he’s finished, he just looks at me for a second, and then gets up to go put the supplies away.

nerves course through my. i clear my throat and call out. “sam?”

he turns around. “hm?”

“don’t leave me.” i shake.

he walks back over and wraps me in a tight hug, kissing my forehead. “i won’t.”

—————————————

thank you guys sooo much for the overwhelming support on this series! if you like what you see, you could go ahead and follow me ;)

here’s my tag list for this series!@patrickfluegers @vicmc624 @vampire7595 @heyyy-hey-babyyy @eternal-maniac

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Found

CW: Creepy whumper, noncon touch (nonsexual), ableist language, some violence at the end

TIMELINE: The summer before Chris begins attending college, shortly before Oliver Branch goes to trial for essentially accepting bribes for a Senate seat.

Tagging Chris’s crew:  @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @stxckfxck , @slaintetowhump, @astrobly, @newandfiguringitout, @doveotions

“You look familiar.”

The voice hasn’t changed at all in the past few years, maybe just gone a little deeper. The soft, slight southern drawl is still there, genteel rounded consonants, drawn out vowels. 

He still dreams about that voice. It still sends shivers down his spine, not all of them from fear.

“Is that who I think that is?”

Chris feels his heart start to pound under the fabric of his t-shirt, and he dips his head low, as though he hasn't heard, as though he won't be seen. 

It's been four years of therapy and building himself a whole new identity and learning to be a person again since the night he was rescued, but even still some traitorous impulse deep inside of Chris thrills at the sound of his Sir. 

He’d been scrolling through his phone, waiting for Jake to finish up inside the store. He’s just been out here reading about campus life, researching dorm room checklists, taking a deep breaths as they took step after step after step towards Chris being an independent adult and not a dependent rescue. 

He’d come out to soak up a little bit of the warm sunlight, feeling its heat soaking into his hair - strawberry blond at the roots, faded blue around the crown of his head, long enough to graze his shoulders with the deepest ocean teal only at the ends. He has it pulled back, caught just at the nape of his neck with a little clip to keep it out of his eyes.

He wishes, as he listens to the familiar sound of the same fine leather shoes stepping crisply along the pavement, that he’d left his hair loose so he could hide behind it now.

Don’t look at him. Don’t look up. Don’t don’t don’t don’t-

“Look at me, darlin’.”

Chris’s chin raises, his head turns. He’s not sure who makes the choice to do that - it doesn’t feel like he’s the one who controlled the movement. 

“There you are.” Sir’s face is just the same, he doesn’t even seem to have gained a new wrinkle, although four years and his slowly imploded political career might have put a bit more gray in the sandy hair. “It is you, isn’t it?” 

Chris texts something - he doesn’t even know what, he doesn’t dare look, only glances down long enough to make sure he’s sending his text to the right person before he slides the phone into his pocket. One hand moves to a bracelet he is always wearing on the other wrist, the cool metal hex nuts braided into thick black nylon, spinning them with his fingers in a nervous motion. 

He’s just fidgeting. It’s just fidgeting. Normal people fidget when they’re nervous, normal people do this, it’s normal to be nervous-

Nothing that happened to you is normal.

“Ah,” Sir says, in his thick oily voice, and reaches up to graze the backs of his knuckles down Chris’s cheek. Chris only stares at him, wide-eyed, feeling impossibly, horribly small. “Where is that voice I loved so much, darlin’? Did you finally learn how to keep your mouth shut?”

Chris jerks back and away from the touch, eyes narrowing. He wants to bite back, to say something, anything, in a strong voice but the words are stuck in his throat, his defiance is locked away.

It must be visible in his eyes, still, because something in Sir’s expression goes cold and his hand slides around to the back of Chris’s neck, a heavy warmth that presses there, like every time he’s ever used that same grip in the same place to push Chris down to his knees. “Careful,” Sir says, in a voice that exudes gentleness. “Careful what you think, beautiful boy.”

Chris’s stomach twists, lurches, flips with disgust. “Don’t-... don’t, don’t don’t-don’t call me that,” He says, and his voice is smaller than he wants it to be, as weak as he is and not as strong as he wants to be. 

“They haven’t fixed you at all,” Sir says, tsking, clicking tongue against the backs of his perfect white teeth. His thumb is rubbing up just where Chris’s hairline starts just behind his ear and he can’t stop shivering, can’t stop shaking at how awful it feels and how good. 

“I, I-I didn’t need… need fixed,” Chris manages, airy and trembling under Sir’s touch. His phone vibrates in his back pocket, but he doesn’t dare pick it up to check.

I’m going back I’m going back he’s going to take me back he’s going to take me way I’ll never see Jake again I’ll never see anyone ever again-

Chris’s eyes fill with tears and he has to sniff them back, only to hear Sir’s low, deep chuckle. He’s too close, he’s way too close, and Chris cringes back against the brick wall, letting Sir move into his space and Chris can’t remember any longer how to get him out of it.

“Of course you had to be fixed. Look at you, you’re an awful mess without me. Who let you get your ears pierced? Your new keeper?" Sir's touch moves to his earlobe, rubbing at the sensitive skin and the small black stud there with the rough pad of his thumb, and Chris knows he could - should - run, or fight, but all he can do is go still and stare straight ahead, sunlight glinting off the cars in the parking lot.

It’s a gorgeous day, and a terrible one.

Everything is wrong.

Two teenage girls shriek laughter as one chases the other towards a small brightly-colored green car. They have long legs, tanned skin and short denim shorts, tank tops that cling to narrow waists.

They’re beautiful and probably don’t know they’re beautiful. They’re living easy lives they don’t know are easy. They’ve probably never had to hide underneath someone’s desk listening to other people live lives they never get to touch, they haven’t had to be so silent and so still, perfect carved statue people.

What they want is not irrelevant.

What they want matters.

He wants to be running with them, wants to collapse into the seat of a car giggling and easy, wants to go back to feeling the sun warm his hair but instead - in this moment - all he feels is frozen.

"I did," Chris whispers, jealous of those girls and all the life they get to live that isn't silent, frozen fear of Sir. "I, I, I don't have a, a keeper now-"

"That's such an awful lie, darlin'." Sir steps closer. “You know how I feel about you lyin’ to me.” Chris wants to vomit all over his shoes, right here right now. The smell of Sir’s cologne is so thick it gets stuck in Chris's throat and steals his air.

Jake’s cologne is light and soft and barely-there, something he only smells when he’s up close or holding one of his shirts. Sir’s wafts through the air around him, steals it, poisons it. 

"It isn't." His lips barely move. “It… isn’t a lie… Sir.”

The words drip from his mouth. He thinks of a documentary he watched with Jake that talked about acid rain. Imagines the words that come slow and steady from his mouth wearing bark off of trees, leaving only the pale flesh like human skin underneath.

He imagines himself as a white birch tree, with Sir slowly stripping him bare, discarding the parts of himself he has built with sun and air and Jake and time. 

His bracelet isn’t helping. His fingers are frozen touching the metal bits, not spinning them, just stuck. His necklace, the lightweight silicone feather that he uses so often when he is happy, lays heavy and hateful somewhere near his sternum. He can’t think - every track is stalling, the trains have all derailed, the thoughts inside are lost in the fog and the debris. He can’t step away. There’s nowhere to run to.

He can’t move his hands. He can’t move his hands. He can’t move his hands. 

He can’t move.

Not until the game is over.

Not until he loses again.

"Oh, it is. We both know it’s a lie, darlin’. You’re simply too old to be of much use to me, now, but...” Sir breathes out through his nose and Chris flinches as the grip on his earlobe suddenly tightens and Sir pulls, like he’ll tear the stud out entirely, and Chris whines low in his throat at the flash, the spike of pain.

Sir stops immediately, but his oil-slick smile finds its way back to his face. 

A child is pushed out of the store behind them sitting in a shopping cart, crying, the little boy’s mother shushing him and telling him they’ll get chicken nuggets on the way home and Chris wonders if the shadowy half-formed mom who lives in his most painfully closed-off memories ever offered to get him a Happy Meal-

“-what you're made for. The question I'm asking is who are you made for now?"

“No one,” Chris whispers, lips barely moving. “I’m… not made… for anyone anymore.”

He hates having to speak like this again. He hates it. They tell him his words aren’t bad, at home, that’s fine to be who he is, to speak how he speaks, they tell him he’s fine and it’s okay, and he’s fine he’s fine he’s fine.

“Mmmn, not true.” Sir reaches up, undoes the clip at the nape of Chris’s neck, his hair falling free in a shining, soft curtain that can’t hide him, not here, not now. “Look at how long your hair is. How awful.”

Chris closes his eyes as Sir’s fingers graze his cheekbone, tuck a bit of the blue behind his ear, trail the shell of his ear and back down the side of his neck. Every touch is a lit match against his skin, every second burns inside and out.

“I like it like this,” Chris says, fucking pathetic attempt at defiance, at standing up for himself, but it’s all he can manage. 

“Oh, beautiful boy,” Sir says, affection thick and condescending clogging Chris’s ears and his thoughts, oil that buries him and burns in his lungs. “Who has ever cared one whit what you like?”

“I do,” Jake says from behind Sir, his voice strong and loud and everything Chris’s voice can’t be in the moment. Chris watches Sir’s eyes widen in surprise and feels his own heart leap. “I care a lot, actually, and you’re going to need to step the fuck away from him before I show you exactly how much I care.”

Sir’s hand drops, and Chris takes in a deep breath, gulps in air as quickly as he can, falling back against the store’s exterior behind him with one hand reaching up to grab onto the feather pendant, rubbing quickly at the ridges carved into the deep blue plastic, while his other hand reaches back to feel the rough texture of the brick wall, rubbing the pads of his fingers there, focusing on the sensation.

Breathe in. Tap. Breathe out. Tap. Rub feather. Breathe in. Tap. Breathe Out. Tap.

Breathe. Breathe. Move.

“The keeper, I presume,” Sir says, holding out his hand to shake with a sunny, smooth Made-for-TV smile. 

Jake’s eyes rake down to Sir’s hand and back up again, chips of cold blue narrowing as he slowly sets the shopping bags in his hands down. He seems taller than ever, now, in his simple sage-green t-shirt and jeans next to Sir’s fussy pastel polo shirt and slack. They’re two separate lives that Chris has lived under two different names, represented by two men staring each other down in perfect silence.

After a moment’s pause, Sir drops his hand.

“I’m not his keeper,” Jake says, keeping his voice even. “It doesn’t work that way, Governor.”

“Mmmn, not my title any longer,” Sir says, a touch regretfully. 

“Yeah, and good goddamn riddance. I hope the charges stick,” Jake says flatly. Chris has no idea what he’s talking about, but something in Sir’s face goes colder, thoughtful. Considering Jake, the way he used to consider Chris, like they are just boys under a microscope, seen on a cellular level by men like Sir, designed for nothing else. 

“For his sake, you had best hope they don’t,” Sir says, still smooth as silk, but the coldness lingers, trails around the edges. 

“What the fuck does that mean?” 

Sir only smiles. Chris isn’t sure what the game was, exactly, but he knows that Jake has just lost it. “Nothing, keeper. How much does my boy cost to feed these days, anyway? I see you’ve got quite the haul, there.” He gestures, a languid motion, towards the pile of plastic bags Jake set on the pavement in front of the store. 

“He’s not your boy,” Jake says, evenly. His eyes skip to Chris - there’s a question there but Chris can’t remember quite how to answer it. Or how to speak at all. He rubs his fingers over the feather, back and forth, pressing into the lines carved in there as hard as he can. The brick wall is rough, soothing as his fingers dance along it. 

Finger-twist-tap-tap-tap. Finger-twist-tap-tap-tap. Finger-twist-tap-

“Don’t tell me you’ve picked that up again,” Sir says. He sounds disgusted. Chris can’t stop himself from glancing up to see the look of derision worn openly on his face. “You were so well trained, too.”

“Trained?” Jake’s voice is a ghost of sound, but something crackles in the whisper.

Chris’s face flushes bright red. He pulls his hand away from the wall and drops the feather, crossing his arms in front of himself, shoulders hunched nearly to his chin. He looks up, finding Jake watching him with a twist of pain showing on his own face. 

Chris has disappointed Jake, he thinks, by not being able to be stronger than this.

He closes his eyes against a rush of tears, tries to push them back. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry-

“You okay?” Jake asks, and there’s a hesitation, a word left unsaid. It occurs to Chris that Jake is trying not to say his name, while badly wanting to.

Chris just shakes his head, lips pressed together. If he tries to speak, he knows he’ll trip on all his words, and Sir will mock him for that, too. Instead he stays quiet, and still, and stares straight ahead. Just like he was trained to. Just like he used to.

Just like he did when Jake first met him. 

He’s not okay. He’s not, he’s not okay at all.

Help me.

His lips move to form the words but no sound comes out. Chris opens his eyes again to meet Jake’s, pleading with him. There aren’t any words, he can’t remember how to say them. There’s only the begging he can do without sound.

There’s only the way he can move his lips, all the fear catches the screaming and holds it inside the stillness.

Just like before.

Save me.

“That’s better,” Sir says, softy. “Now, beautiful boy, you just stay there being pretty while-”

“Oh, you can just go fuck yourself on like six rusty knives, you absolute son of a bitch-”

Jake throws the punch before either Chris or Sir can so much as react to the movement, and Chris flinches back with a cry when he sees Jake’s fist connect with Sir’s face, the look of open loathing he wears there as the man crumbles to the sidewalk.

Jake looks up, taking a deep breath. “Chris. Call Nat and tell her to bring the car. We need a fast ride home.”

Chris still can’t remember how to make the words happen out loud. There’s a static inside his head, too much it’s all too much, and he clutches onto the feather necklace at his chest, mouthing, why?

Jake knows the question he’s asking.

Jake gives him a half-cocked smile, closing his hand in a fist.

“Because I’m about to punch this asshole again.”

[hannie-dul-set]

the air was cold, kissing goosebumps onto the bareness of your skin as you walked through the doors of the hotel's entrance.

eight-thirty-one. you took a glimpse at your phone. it had been thirty one minutes since your last text to jaehyun, saying that your shift was over and you were about to get ready, and you hoped that he hadn't been waiting for you for too long.

a silver clutch in hand, you passed by the front desk, sending the receptionist a smile before finding your way towards the elevator. you weren't exactly paying the utmost attention to the interiors of the lobby, but even with a single glance, you would already be able to tell the luxury that the place withheld. 

it was quiet inside, nothing but the hollow sounds of your clacking heels were to be heard.

honestly speaking, the nerves from yesterday never left the traces of your veins— and once you found yourself in front of the reflective doors of the elevator, you felt your heart thrumming even harder against your ears. pressing your lips together as you took in a long breath, your fingers grazed the cold, metal buttons of the control panel. and before you could input the numbers of the highest floor, you heard the sounds of chattering, and a couple of heeled shoes clattering against the tiled hotel floors coming towards you.

"i swear, my feet are gonna kill me."

"lira, you have no one to blame besides yourself for being short."

"the both of you shut up— did you see how good jaehyun looked tonight?"

after hearing the exchange, you quickly pressed open the elevator and shuffled your feet inside, only to have them enter as well. they didn't seem to mind your presence— scratch that, they were flat out ignoring you, talking amongst themselves as their voices echoed inside the confined walls. you didn't mind, keeping to yourself as you escalated through the floors.

it wasn't your business to listen to them, and you tried your best to just let their conversation pass through your head. but when you heard the mention of a certain name, you couldn't help your ears from perking up.

"as if you'd get a bite of him now that seonha is back."

that's right. you thought. is jaehyun doing okay?

"does that bitch think she owns him, or something?" one of them scoffed. "she's been clinging onto him since she got here."

you fiddled with your phone in your hands, biting down your lip as you pondered on texting your boyfriend to check up on him, but you decided against it since you were almost there, anyways. he was probably busy handling the guests— you didn't want to disturb him.

with an accompanied ding! the doors opened, along with the trickling release of your breath.

you exited the elevator after the three other girls, seeing nothing but an empty hall and an attendant situated in front of two large doors that lead to where the event was taking place. the muffled sounds of music slipped past the cracks of the dark wooden entrance, and once opened, it got clearer, louder, until it was all you could hear.

the first thing you noticed when you got inside was gold.

schools of tiny, golden specs swirling against the dark blue tint of the ceiling and walls of the area, like make believe stars swimming inside a vast ocean. it was mesmerizing, honestly. but before you can get any more sidetracked from your agenda, you decided to look for the reason why you're here in the first place—

jaehyun.

considering the mass of people inside, you might think it would have been difficult to find him, yet it only took you one glance at the heightened stage at the far front and you already found your heart smiling at the sight of him. there were a few other people with him, of which he was conversing with, but their faces were blurred as your eyes trained on him and him only.

the girl who said that he looked good tonight— whatever her name is—was absolutely right.

you were about to march up to him, a blinding grin on your face, until a stray conversation found its way into your senses and your head snapped towards the direction from where it came from.

"they look good together, don't they?"

"who?"

"jung jaehyun and im seonha."

at the mention of their names, your gaze diverted back to the stage in front, noticing the very pretty girl beside jaehyun— clinging onto his arm as if he were her life support.

"aren't they dating?"

"who knows, but i wouldn't be surprised if they were."

there was a faint stinging in your chest as their stringed words seeped into you, squeezing your throat until you could barely even squeak out a sliver of breath. you tried your best to block them out— you really did— but as the murmurs continued, flooding into you like ceaseless surges of water, you found yourself drowning.

"with the status and looks such as theirs, you would think that they were made for each other."

"it's a bit envious, isn't it?"

you weren't supposed to be feeling like this. jaehyun told you that he didn't care about seonha, that his actions were only for keeping up appearances. he told you not to think of anything about what people might say, telling you that none of that matters. he told you time and time again that he loves you, for fuck's sake.

jaehyun loves you.

but why did it hurt so much?

"y/n, you're here!"

a voice broke through the tides, causing you to jump in surprise. quickly, you blinked away the tears that threatened to spill, and took in a deep breath of air.

"ah, mark!" you smiled at him, and he quickly found himself in front of you, burying you in a sudden tight hug which caught you off guard, but you squeezed back nonetheless. his act brought you warmth, and frankly you needed it after being exposed for too long by the nipping cold of the venue.

the both of you broke away, and you couldn't help but laugh at the excited grin on his face after seeing you. "did you just arrive?" 

"oh yeah," you answered. "i arrived not too long ago."

"jaehyun hyung is up front. want me to call him for you?"

"no, no it's okay! i'll go to him myself," mark hummed at your assurance. he was about to say something else, until a loud voice started calling for him from afar, and you raised a brow at him.

he only groaned, a subtle pout on his lips after hearing that. "fuck— sorry, y/n, but i have to go. have fun with jaehyun hyung!"

that was the last thing he said before disappearing into the dark blue ocean once more, your smile leaving as he did. again, your gaze turned to jaehyun and seonha. he looked happy, that much you can tell from the faraway distance, and you couldn't help but think that—

they do look good together.

before you can do anything or think of anything else, you could see jaehyun excusing himself from the group he was talking to, dropping out of your sight. immediately after, you felt a buzzing from your phone, and you promptly opened it to check.

oh. 

you wouldn't lie, you felt your heart flutter when you saw that. it tugged at your cheeks— causing you to smile to yourself as you stared down into your phone. but that was immediately cut short as the previous waters that were washing over you had tried to sink you in its depths once again.

"ah, the director left only for a moment, but it seems like seonha had missed him already."

"it must be nice to be young and in love."

the hold you had on your phone tightened along with your chest. you stared at his message— one, three, seconds passed. the exit was behind you, and he didn't know you were here yet, so it would be fine. it took a moment, but you managed to fumble out your typed response.

and just like that, the ocean was no longer.

gold painted canvas

the classic rich boy and poor girl love story but with less prejudice and more happiness

35 // an ocean

a/n: uwu

feel free to yell at me in the comments/in your tags/in my inbox HHAHAHA im terrified of the ocean but watch me make a million analogies with it

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unable to tag:

@jaehyunsgoodthing @neocultech-baby

[ambivalent-anarchy]

Too Cheesy

Gender: Female

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Warnings: Sickening fluff and insanely cheesy pick up lines.

Summary- Ned agrees to stay at Peter's house and help him find the perfect pickup line to ask out his crush with before spring break. But what happens when his crush tags along and also wants to help? ---------------------------------------

"Nah Peter, too corny."

Peter Parker was standing in the middle of his room, his best friend Ned sitting on his bed, cradling their death star in his hands. Peter scrolled down the screen of his phone. "Okay, how about this one?" After reading, Peter looked to the wall and gave a smug smirk, as if he were actually looking at someone. "Hey [Y/N]... are you religious? 'Cause you’re the answer to all my prayers."

Ned cocked his head to the side. "Is she religious?"

"I dunno, I never really asked before," Peter answered, breaking out of his assumed position.

Ned scrunched his nose a bit. "Well, we probably should stay off of religious pick-up lines then."

"Right," Peter agreed, looking back to his phone again. He scrolled a bit more. When satisfied, he looked up at the wall again, raised his eyebrows with an award winning smile before he recited another.

"Life without you would be like a broken pencil… pointless."

"Wow..," Ned said. He pointed and nodded slowly. "I think that's a keeper. Try it again just to make sure though. Oh- and this time, make it more personal."

"Okay," Peter said, going back over the line in his head. He assumed the position and instead of a smug, gave a small smolder.

"Wait," Ned interrupted. "Does this one even make sense? I mean- a pencil still has a point even when it's broken, right? Unless, of course, it's the bottom half, but that would only work if it's a clean break. A-and-"

Suddenly, realizing how completely ridiculous he must look, Peter grimaced. "Ned, why're we doing this again?!"

Ned rolled his eyes. "C'mon Pete. It's because pickup lines always work!"

"A-are you sure? Cuz that doesn't sound right."

"Dude, I'm telling you," Ned defended. "I saw Flash walk right up to Sydney and gave her the perfect pickup line and he immediately got a date! Flash of all people! If he can, you certainly can!"

Peter rolled his eyes. Ned was seriously comparing him to Flash? There were tons of reasons as to how Flash got with Sydney. "But Flash is popular and rich and stuff... I'm just me."

Ned scoffed. "Well..." He looked up with a carefree smile. "If it makes you feel any better, if I were a girl, I'd totally date you."

"..thanks..." Peter said, suddenly feeling incredibly awkward. He looked around the room with a nervous chuckle. Ned, apparently not realizing the awkwardness in the room, hasn't looked away and continued to smile at his friend.

Finding his voice, Peter spoke up. "So, um, what was Flash's line anyway?"

"Uh-uh man," Ned answered. "You gotta find your own! Sydney probably already told the whole school, so you'd just be a copycat. Your line needs to be original."

Peter raised his eyebrows. "We're literally looking this stuff up from the internet, Ned! That's not original!"

"Just trust me. Now read another."

"Okay..." Peter begrudgingly agreed. He was regretting this whole thing more and more each second. He took a deep breath and recited his next one.

"[Y/N], my love for you is like dividing by zero– it can't be defined."

He looked to Ned, who was silently contemplating the words.

"...I kinda like it," Ned finally said.

"I don't know," the scrawny teenager sighed, throwing his phone onto his bed. "It needs to be really good! Not mediocre. Tomorrow is my only chance to tell [Y/N] how I feel before spring break starts. I can't back out!"

"Pete, relax. We'll just add it to the list. Now do another-"

"Peter!!! [Y/N]'s here!!!"

The two teenagers froze. Their eyes widened at his aunt May's voice. They looked to the door, then to each other.

"What is she doing here?!?!," Peter whisper-shouted, two seconds from panicking.

"It's your apartment, you tell me!," Ned whispered back, arms flailing wildly.

"She can't be here!," he yelled to himself, pointing towards the door you could be walking through any second now. "She can NOT be here!"

The two quietly went back and forth as you came closer to his room. Normally, you were always more than welcome. But today, unbeknownst to you, Peter's home was probably the one place you definitely shouldn't be.

You poked your head around the doorframe. "Heyyyy fellas!"

They froze, looking to you with their mouths zipped shut. "Why so tense?," you asked, a small smile playing on your lips.

"No reason!," Peter yelled.

"Hey [Y/N]." Ned gave a wide smile.

You return it with a wider smile that certainly betrayed the rest of your face, that held only confusion. "Uh, what's going on, guys??"

They looked to each other, then to you, then to each other again. Ned broke away first this time. "Peter's trying to find a pick-up line to tell his crush was tomorrow!," he spat out quickly, earning an excited gasp from you.

Peter's jaw stopped to the floor. If he were a computer, he would've definitely been crashing right now. "What the hell, Ned?!," he practically screamed, his voice cracking a bit before he covered his face with his hands.

"So, whose the girl?," you asked, pushing through them and climbing onto the top bunk to sit.

"Uh-"

"DON'T. SAY. ANYTHING!," Peter hissed out through gritted teeth.

It didn't take you too long to realize the tension in the room. "Uh, should I come back another time or something?"

"That would be ideal," Peter mumbled under his breath.

Your eyebrows scrunched together in annoyance. Why were they being so weird and vague?

"Okay, did I do something? Is that why you're acting so weird, Pete? I mean, I was gonna try to help you out so you won't make a complete fool of yourself in front of this girl, but-"

Ned dropped the death star as he excitedly clapped his hands together. "That'd be perfect, actually!!"

Both you and Peter groaned as you looked at the peices on the floor. "Ned!"

"At this point that thing needs to stay at my house cuz when it's at either of yours it always breaks!," you laughed.

"Umm..." Peter looked away and took a deep breath. "[Y/N]?"

At this point, he had no idea nor any control over what was going on and the only words processing in his mind were what the fuck.

His crush was not supposed to be here while he was practicing what to say to his crush tomorrow.

"Yeah, Pete?"

But you were here now, and you didn't seem to be leaving anytime soon.

So what's the worse that could happen?

"C-could you maybe, um, help me with this?"

"With your girl problems? Sure. I mean, if we leave it your hands, the poor girl won't even know what hits her."

Ned bit his lip, attempting (and failing) to hide a fit of laughter. "She sure won't!"

"Dude!," Peter hissed, nudging his shoulder.

"So what've you got so far?," you said, watching Peter expectantly.

"Uhh.." He blew out a heavy breath. Welp, he thought. Guess we're doing this now. He picked up his phone and awkwardly read off the line.

"My love for you is like dividing by zero– it can't be defined.."

He looked back up at you, frozen as statue. That was so embarrassing. You smiled and giggled a little. "That was so cheesy!"

"Oh..," Peter mumbled. He'd actually thought that one was pretty good.

"That's only because he's not doing it like he did a second ago," Ned, ever the oblivious one, noted. "C'mon! Do it the way you did it before [Y/N] came in here."

If looks could kill, Ned would surely have been maimed and then ran over a bus by now.

Peter sighed. He looked up to the wall right above where [Y/N] was sitting and gave his best smolder.

But before he could get a word out, laughter erupted the room. "PETE WHAT THE HECK IS THAT?!," [Y/N] shrieked, practically falling off the the top bunk of the bed with laughter. "Girls' want a genuine smile, not some James Bond wannabe look!"

"Y-you don't think it looks cool?," he asked, cheeks red as beets by now.

"Frickin' goofy is what that looks like!," she responded. "Gimme your phone."

Peter's face fell. Wow, he thought. I'm way off. No way I'm gonna get her now, except...He looked to Ned, who was practically just spectating the whole thing at this point. Their eyes joined, and they could both tell they'd come to the same conclusion.

What better way to find out exactly what to say than by finding out by who you're going to say it to?

[Y/N] scrolled down a few until she found one that she liked. "Ooh, this one's pretty good." She looked up from the phone. "Now, watch me and I'll show you how it's done." She hopped down from the bed and said the line straight to Peter's face, biting her lip and smirking.

"Hey you, apart from being sexy, what do you do for a living?"

Immediately afterwards, she broke out of it. "See?," she asked. "That's how it's done." [Y/N] tossed the phone back into Peter's hands before sitting back down. "Now do that."

Peter sucked in a quick breath, lightly tugging the bottom of his gray shirt. "U-uh, um, yeah okay.."

That was hot, was all he could really think at the moment. She's so frickin hot.

Scatterbrained, he stood and looked back at you. "U-uh.. -oh, here's one..." He shook his head slightly, as if attempting to shake the jitters out. "A-are you a cam-mera? C-cuz.. you sure do make me sm-mile," he stammered, ending with beyond awkward fingers guns.

[Y/N] chuckled, biting back a small smile. "Ya know, you're just too cute sometimes..."

At that, Ned's jaw fell to the floor. Peter's face turned a shade of red you didn't believe was even possible.

"Uh, u-um, ah, heh, thanks..."

"Hey yo, my mom's texting me," Ned suddenly announced. "I gotta get home. See you two tomorrow." He smiled at [Y/N] and then looked Peter square in the face with a shit-eating grin. "And good luck Pete!," he said, earning a middle finger from his best friend.

After the door closed, [Y/N] frowned. "What's up with you two? Are you guys fighting?"

"Nah, Ned's just being..." Peter trailed off, shaking his head slightly. If he were to elaborate, he could risk telling you. Better to play it safe. "So was that one good?"

"I mean, it'd be nice if you could g-g-g-get it out!," you mocked with a smile.

"No stuttering then," he concluded to himself. "Stuttering's a turn off."

"Well, not exactly," you corrected. "I actually think it's kinda cute when you do it." Noticing his intense blushing, you grabbed his hands to give comfort. "Just relax. No stuttering. And keep eye contact. Got it, Pete?"

His cheeks reddened as he looked away, desperately trying to redirect his focus from your turned up lips. "Oh, u-uh um, thanks! That's great, ya know! L-lets, ah, just get back to the th-thing- uh, the line..."

And so you did. You helped him til eleven o'clock at night. You went over about fifty. Until there was no way he couldn't have a perfect one to show the girl.

Until the next morning.

Spoiler alert: he didn't find a line.

When you left the indecisive teenager, he'd looked like he was on the right path. He had an entire list of good choices you'd picked out with him, along with practiced ways to do each one.

But, when he woke up and looked back at the list, each one just felt wrong.

Cheesy.

Overused.

Corny.

Lame.

You wouldn't like it. You'd already heard it. It wouldn't feel special to you if he'd told you something you'd already picked out for yourself, even if you didn't know you had.

You'd reject him. And more? Because you were a nice person, you'd probably still want to be friends.

Which was definitely way, way worse.

"Peter!," May yelled. "Engine's being turned on in five! Be there or you'll have to swing to school!"

-

Perer told you he'd tell his crush the line by the lockers during homeroom.

You couldn't wait. 'This is gonna be so awesome,' you thought, scanning the halls for his curly brown hair and wrinkled jacket.

'Of course, this girl better be worth his time or I'm gonna frickin' tackle her....'

The night before, Peter had told you nearly everything about this mystery girl.

He gushed about how she was perfect. Beautiful. Everything he ever wanted.

And you felt happy for him.

But deep inside, you knew that whoever the girl he'd chosen was, you wouldn't approve. Because deep down, you wished that it would be you.

But you and Peter were friends. Since the sixth grade. If anything was ever gonna happen, it surely already would've.

And It wasn't gonna happen...

And when this girl said yes (it's Peter Parker, why wouldn't you?), you'd have to watch them hug, kiss, give inside jokes, and everything else couples did.

And because he was your best friend, you'd have to just sit there and be happy for him.

"Miss. [Y/L/N]. Come on, get to class!," your homeroom teacher yelled, standing by the door, holding it open for you to walk into the classroom.

"Must be late again...," you mumbled, looking around the halls for Peter one last time before making your way to the door.

"[Y/N]!"

You whipped your head to where the voice was coming from. It was Ned, running down the hallway.

"Yeah?"

"He's gonna do it!," he yelled. "He's about to ask!"

You turned towards your teacher. "Um, can I go to the restroom please?"

"Yeah sure," the teacher replied.

Once the door closed, you ran to meet Ned in the middle of the hall. "Ask? Wait, on a date or to actually be his girlfriend?"

"TO BE HIS GIIIIRRRRRRLLLLLLLFRIEND!!," he yelled, shaking you by your shoulders back and forth frantically.

'Wow,' you thought, eyes wide. 'Peter's actually getting some balls now.'

This was it. And you were gonna hold your tongue and watch it happen.

Ned looked over your shoulder as he practically gasped for air. "He's coming! He's coming!"

You pulled his arm a bit, attempting to pull him to towards the wall. "Don't we need to hide? They don't need an audience!"

Suddenly, using his strength against you, Ned turned you around quickly for you to come face to face with Peter.

"Where's the girl?," you said, looking around curiously. After you were met with silence, your curious smile went away. "Pete, where is she? Where's she at?"

"I-it's...um, [Y/N] it's always been-heh. It's you," he answered, looking into your eyes shyly.

Ned could've bursts from joy right then and there. You could feel his grip on your arms tighten out of excitement.

But you didn't care, because you were sky high yourself. "So all that, yesterday? That was all about-"

"Yeah. You."

You sighed, practically frozen. "Major fucking plot twist, dude.."

He tilted his head. "'Saw' level?"

"More like 'Shutter Island' level," you answered.

"Ooh, that was a big one," Ned added brightly.

You shifted slightly. "So, um, what was the line you chose?"

"Oh!," Peter laughed. "How could I forget? Uh-" He grabbed your hands gently. "Okay." Hey blew out a long breath. "Relaxing. No stuttering. And keeping eye contact," he reminded himself aloud before he slowly and tenderly recited the line he'd chosen.

"[Y/N], ahem, um, If I had a penny for every time I thought about you, I'd have exactly one cent.."

You frowned. "Hold on, I don't get it. That means-"

"-Because you never leave my mind, sweetheart."

Raising your eyebrows, your heart warmed and you covered your hand over your mouth. That was one you hadn't chosen. You'd never even heard it before. He'd found it himself.

Noticing your reaction, Peter tensed. "W-was that too much? I'm sorry if that was too much! The last thing I would want for it to be is too-"

"That was perfect, Peter."

He paused. "It wasn't too cheesy?"

"Just a little cheesy," you said, pinching your fingers together and giving a quick wink.

"On a scale of one to ten?," Ned asked.

"Ned!," Peter scolded, quickly sliding his finger over his neck as a warning. He then looked back to you with a timid smirk.

"So, ah, does this mean you'll be my girlfriend?"

"Hmm, I guess it does, huh?," you giggled and turned to walk away just as the bell rang for first period.

-

"Sooooo, how'd it go?," May asked, poking her head around the doorframe of Peter's room.

When Peter turned towards her from his bed, May knew the answer before he even uttered a word.

He was staring up at ceiling twiddling his fingers and grinning like a madman.

"She said yes, May..I-i didn't think she'd actually say yes!"

May smiled. "Well, that's good!"

"Our first date's tomorrow and- Oh God! I might need to find another line to tell her! I'll use the math one this time since she was so excited about acing that test earlier today. Oh my gosh what if- what if we kiss?! That'd be SO awesome! Right, May? Ooh man, what am I gonna wear?? Ned said to wear a tux. But it's just a movie date, not prom! Jeans and a t-shirt should work, right? What if I get there and I'm underdressed?! Why is this stuff so hard?!"

Aunt May watched as the young boy frantically vented to himself and shook her head. "God bless him..."

She looked down at his desk in the corner of his room. On it was a small journal. It was opened to a page labelled 'Pickup Lines To Tell [Y/N]'

Underneath it were lines separated into sections based on 'coolness,' 'nerdiness,' and 'sexiness.'

May furrowed her eyebrows. "Hon, you know pick-up lines never work, right?

"Well May," Peter sighed, leaning back into his bed. "There's a special girl out there that would beg to differ.."