#please don’t take this post seriously I was giggling so much while drawing it

[shrimp-and-rice]

Oh the wonders of inside jokes

[hopingforromanoff]

Y/N, The Mission. Focus. {N. Romanoff} SMUT

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x reader

Warnings: THIS IS SMUT SO 18 +

Requests are open, so feel free to send in requests and I will do my best to get them posted ASAP. I’m gonna keep them open for now but please be patient with the length of time it takes to finish them.

Y/n: I’m posting this while flying, I brought wifi so I could get this out to y’all, so this is completely unedited😬

I hope you enjoy!

~Lucy

My Masterlist

________

“So tell me again why I have to work with… her?” you shot a glare Natasha’s way as she slammed the door to the armory and headed towards the Quinjet.

“You two are the best spies I’ve got, it was an easy choice” Steve shrugged his shoulders and continued to press a few buttons, uploading the mission plan and destination coordinates to the Quinjet’s server.

“That's the thing, it's not even a hard mission! It’s just intel, from an abandoned facility at that. It doesn’t need TWO highly trained spies”

“Just because the facility is abandoned, that does not mean there aren't still active security systems in place. This is an important mission, Y/N, Can't you just act like an adult and suck it up for a few hours?” Steve let out an exasperated sigh, and went to leave.

“It’s not me! It’s her, and she does it on purpose” you slammed your throwing knife down on the table to get Steve's attention and distract him from leaving.

“No, it’s the both of you, you do everything to get under each other’s skin. The two of you are friends when we are here, why can’t you be nice on missions too?”

“Because it’s all some big power trip to Nat-” Steve cut you off before you could finish.

“Enough of that, I don’t have time for this, and neither do you, that plane leaves in 5 minutes, the two of you better be on it” Steve snapped and slammed the door to the armory.

****

“y/n” Nat greeted as she approached the cockpit of the Quinjet. You felt the ground under you shift as you took off. Natasha’s skilled fingers moved across the controls, skilled fingers that would be good at… other things too. The leather of her uniform stretched tightly across her ass-Y/N, the mission. Focus.

“Romanoff” You mumbled back after just a little too long. Natasha smirked, she knew exactly what had been distracting you. You busy your hands prepping your weapons, you couldn’t look at her anymore.

Soft, warm hands settled on your waist, her fingers found the space where your pants met your shirt and began to absentmindedly draw shapes.

“What’s wrong, y/n? You seem a little...distracted, something on your mind?” Natasha’s warm breath tickled your neck and her lips brushed against your ear with each word. Her fingernail dug lightly into your hip bone, a whimper fell from your lips.

This...was what she did everytime the two of you went on a mission together. She knew how you ticked and took great pleasure in teasing you. This is why you couldn't work with Natasha, but you couldn’t exactly tell Steve the reason was because she practically had you soaked through your uniform pants after only just leaving the compound.

Once you escaped her web, you hid looking at old maps of the facility and drone footage, you needed to keep away from Natasha as much as possible if you wanted this mission to be successful.

The Quinjet settled on the ground with a soft thud and the door dropped open, a cloud of dirt floated in the air. Nat appeared behind you.

“You ready?” she spoke softly in your ear. Her hands found your hips and she pulled you back against her, her thigh applying pressure in between your legs.

Your eyes fluttered shut enjoying the feeling of her hands and thigh, wanting nothing more than for her to-Y/N, the mission. Focus.

“Nat, seriously” You groaned and shook her off, leaving her behind in the Quinjet. Nat giggled lightly and followed after you.

“Those new uniform pants, y/n? They make your ass look amazing” Nat stepped back to get a better view as you accessed the security door with the keycard Steve had given you.

“Can you just focus on the mission for five fucking minutes, Natasha? Steve is counting on this information, and I'm not letting you comprise that” You turned around and barked at her, getting more and more frustrated .

“And since when are you in charge?” Natasha raised her eyebrow at you.

“Since no one else stepped the fuck up, and actually wanted to get things done”

“ You’re being kinda feisty today, it's hot” Natasha lightly slapped you butt as she passed you and entered the facility.

Nat managed to keep quiet and behave….until you got close to the mainframe room.

Natasha firmly pulled your body against hers, and used her weight to push you up against the wall behind you. She stared into your eyes, lightly slid her tongue across your bottom one. You drew a shaky breath as a wave of warmth ran through you. Natasha smiled. She kissed you softly at first but it grew more passionate. Her hand slid up your body, stopping once she reached your boobs. She lightly bit your lip as she pinched your nipple just enough for you to feel through your uniform. A shallow moan escaped from you in response. Nat pulled back a little and smiled. Your hand reached for her face and pressed your lips back against with urgency. Your other hand fell to her hip bringing her closer.

“Y/n, baby, the mission, remember? You gotta focus” she smirked, her hands leaving your hips. The number keypad beeps behind you as Natasha typed in the passcode and the door slid open. Natasha chucked as she walked into the control room, leaving you frozen in place.

She’s such an asshole.

You took a moment to compose yourself and you followed after her. You hung by the door watching Nat as she worked. The flash drive was already in and she had nearly hacked into the system, she was good at what she does. You just looked at her for a minute, her bright red hair pulled up in a tight ponytail, her uniform framing her figure, she had clearly pulled the zipper down at the top to put her breasts on display just a little more than usual for your pleasure.

“Whatcha looking at, pretty girl? You kinda look a little distracted, kinda like you're not focusing on this mission you were so worried about” Natasha pushed a few more buttons and a download bar filled the screen. You pushed off the wall and joined her standing next to the desk that contained all of the control panels.

Natasha’s hands reached for your hips and they met the front of the control board.

“You’ve been so damn uptight today, you just needs a good fucking, baby, maybe then you’ll relax a little” Natasha left gentle, soft kisses down your neck. Her words and touches caused a wave of heat ran through you, your hips shifted under her to try and relieve the pressure, your underwear now completely soaked.

Those soft kisses began to trail down, the top of your uniform hindering Natasha’s attack, but only for a moment. Natasha began to painstakingly slowly pull the zipper down, you shoved her hands away after a minute, ripping your whole uniform off before Natasha could even get a word in. It was tight and sticking to your hot, sweaty skin, you just needed it off. Natasha seemed to like that idea and helped you with your bra and it joined your uniform on the floor.

“I bet that wasn’t comfortable, baby, you seemed to be getting a little worked up, can I help you feel a little better?” Your mind was clouded and all you could think about was Natasha’s warm hands on your boobs and the way her lips brushed against your nipple when she spoke. Eventually, you managed to give her a little nod.

“Pretty girl, I need you to hear you say it” Natasha prompted again, her eyes finding yours.

“I wanna cum, I’m very uncomfortable” you whimpered and your eyes closed, just a little embarrassed that you had to say it out loud.

“I know you are, kitten, I’ll fix it” Natasha gave you a sweet smile. She was all talk, and when it actually came to sex, she was always the sweetest.

You felt all the breath leave your body, your body going all tingly as the tips of her fingers made contact with your throbbing clit.

“That’s it, baby, I got you” Natasha's voice only made everything even more tingly.

She continued the gentle touches on your clit for a little longer, and you just couldn’t take, you needed it more. Your leg wraps around hers and you pull her closer.

“Baby, you gotta relax and give me a minute, I don’t wanna hurt you” you whined against her lips as she pulled her fingers away and tried to sooth you with a kiss. She gave you one more kiss and then dropped to her knees.

Your thighs felt as if they were on fire, gentle kisses trailed up your legs, almost to where you needed her but not close enough. She kissed closer and closer but never quite where you wanted her. Relief finally came when she began to lick your clit, her finger entered you at the same time.

“You’re so wet for me, baby” another finger entered you.

Natasha knew you too well, her fingers curling to hit that place that made you melt. Whimpers and moans fell freely from your lips now, not even giving you a chance to catch your breath. Your thighs shaking in her arms. The pleasure from both her tongue and her fingers drew you closer and closer to the edge until you couldn’t hold it anymore.

“Baby, can I?” You could barely get it out between moans and struggling breath.

“Yes, you can, baby, come for me” she gave you that sweet smile again, her head resting against the inside of your thigh.

Your head fell back on the control board as you came. Natasha fingers still moving to let you ride out your high for a moment. Her free hand drawing indistinguishable shapes on your still shaking thigh.

“Can I take my fingers out, baby?” You just nodded in response to Nat, your throat was sore from moaning and you hadn’t found your voice again.

“I love you, Nat” you whispered when you finally found your voice.

“ I love you too baby, so much” you got that sweet smile from her again.

The computer beeped and a popup flashed on the screen reading ‘download complete’.

“See baby, you had nothing to worry about, mission complete” She smiled and waved the flash drive in front of your face. She gave you a quick kiss before letting go of you and heading off towards the Quinjet.

You rolled your eyes at her, and smiled. Maybe you shouldn’t tell Steve that you and Natasha had been dating for 6 months now, he might not send you on missions together anymore.

You shouldn’t work with Natasha, but god… you loved when you did...

Tag List: @too-gay-for-marvel​ @athenapotter

[langdxn]

OMGGG PLEASE WRITE FOR STAN ✨✨🖤🖤

well if you insist...

off the record | stan bowes x reporter!reader

WARNINGS: pretty graphic smut, fingering, vaginal sex, pet names errywhere, trump mentions, dom!stan

WORDS: 2.9k (excessive but necessary)

A/N: 110% not proofread yet so apologies for any errors which i’ll fix tomorrow.

The hustle and bustle of 5th Avenue spared Stan the embarrassment of leaving a torturous meeting at work. Tumbling out into the chaos of the New York streets offered him the anonymity he craved after a confrontation with Matt, the ability to blend in amongst the faces that couldn’t recognise him from the next suited, briefcase-toting businessman.

Bursting out of the doors to Trump Towers, Stan dropped his briefcase and rinsed his face with both hands, pressing his fingers to his eyes in a vain attempt to wipe away the day he’d just had. In that moment, no eyes were trained on him, no pressure on his shoulders, no demands of his time.

That is, until a sugary voice broke the crowd’s monotonous buzz.

“Trouble in economic paradise, honey?”

Stan’s hands dropped to his side as he searched for the source of his interruption, eyes intently scanning the street until they fell upon you, leaning against the building’s opulent marble pillars at the entrance.

“Sorta,” he mumbled under his breath, a grimace gently tapering his lips as he gazed down at his shoes. In an attempt to avoid your attentions, he trained his sights on a particularly worn paving slab. His distraction worked right up until your heels clacked toward him and planted right on his slab, the smoke from your cigarette swirling in his peripheral vision — there was no avoiding you, no matter how hard he tried. Stan’s head raised to meet your gaze, his deep brown eyes betraying a sadness and insecurity he may never put into words.

“I hear Mr Trump can be a harsh master,” you goaded your victim into spilling his guts, taking a deep puff of your cigarette before blowing it back to hover over his brown curls like a makeshift halo.

“I... I wouldn’t know, I barely see him,” Stan confessed, grabbing his suitcase and nodded toward the street. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Miss.”

Time for drastic action. The brunette stepped toward the street, ready to dismiss this exchange and continue his day.

“I smoke out here to drive your boss up the wall, you know,” you called after him, booming over the hubbub on 5th Avenue. “Admittedly he doesn’t come out much, but that jerk-off on the 41st floor certainly reads me for dirt every Friday night. What’s his name, Matt Bromley?”

Stan stopped in his tracks.

“Oh, so you know him too?” You pressed, pacing toward him with a staccato clack of your heels.

“He’s my superior, or at least he pretends to be,” Stan turned to face you, that same pained smirk dancing across his cheeks as his voice cracked between sentences. “Be careful around him, yeah? He’s not exactly one of the nice guys.”

“You’re telling me,” you scoffed, taking another swift drag while tipping your head to the side. “Luckily if he laid a finger on me, I’d put it front page of the Post and he’d never work in this overpriced dump again.”

“You’re a reporter?” Stan’s eyebrows quirked, intrigued but nonetheless concerned. Should he even be talking to a reporter like this? Will every word that passes his lips end up on tomorrow’s front page? He shook his head to dismiss any suspicious thoughts, he certainly didn’t have the headspace for that yet.

“For now,” you admitted with a pout and an eye-roll. “Your asshole ‘superior’ tries to rectify that on a regular basis. Keeps telling my boss I’m soliciting outside Trump Tower instead of reporting. Always digging through my personal life and not coming up with so much as an overdue rental VHS. Someday my editor will believe him, but I’m on my last warning as it is.”

“Seriously?” Stan’s smirk grew more sympathetic with the realisation one more life was being wrecked by the man he had the misfortune of sharing a floor with. “That’s pretty crazy.”

“That’s Manhattan, honey,” you smiled warmly at him. “Don’t worry, I’m not doorstepping you, I just happened to be here on a tip-off.”

“A tip-off? What sort of—.”

Stan cut himself off on hearing the approach of a familiar obnoxious voice on a cell phone booming in the golden foyer behind your exchange.

“Shit, that’s Bromley,” Stan panicked, suddenly grasping your arm and leading you away from the door, casting your half-smoked cigarette to the kerb. “Let’s get you outta here.”

“My nameless knight in shining armour,” you chuckled to yourself, somehow instincively following his lead on the street until you merged with the throngs of passers-by. “Where are we going, sweetie?”

“My name’s Stan Bowes, and I have absolutely no idea where we’re going.”

———

“You don’t look like a Stan,” you mused at the businessman seated across the table from you, tapping your chin with a finger as you contemplated alternative monikers. “More like a... Colin? Peter? Yeah, you’re a Peter—.”

“Can we just... rewind here?” Stan interrupted, eyes darting frantically at your surroundings, scanning the faces at the other tables. “D’ya mind explaining to me why we’re in a Five Guys right now?”

“You’ll thank me later, toots,” you quickly dismissed his objection as you swirled your soda cup in your other hand. “You think your psycho friend from the 41st floor’s gonna look for you in a diner? He’ll go straight to the Plaza... or even Indochine. Never a Five Guys. Plus, I needed somewhere I can afford to pay the bill so the Trump Organisation expense account doesn’t feel the burn.”

A wordless nod and raised eyebrow from your company suggested his silent approval, but his hands idly toying with the burger before him betrayed his confidence in your genius escape plan. Folding the lettuce edging out from beneath the bun, tugging at the rings of onion and nervously picking the sesame seeds from the top.

“You never told me what your tip-off was. What were you doing outside my work?” Stan raised his manhandled burger to his mouth, daring to undo all the strategic dismantling he’d just put into action.

“Somebody told the office that the blonde egomaniac at the top of your food chain is planning to run for president.”

Stan nearly choked on his first bite, resisting the temptation to spit it out in shock. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

“‘Fraid not.”

“That... that can’t be true, he’s too busy with the plans to buy the Plaza two blocks away.”

“The Plaza?!” Your inquisitive voice changed pitch.

“Yeah, didn’t you know?” Stan screwed up his face. “Wait— you’re not gonna print this, are you?”

“I’m not here to rat you out,” You raised both surrendering hands in the space between you. “See? No notebook, no tape recorder, no agenda. It’s just me and you, baby.”

The brown haired man smiled warmly, visibly releasing the tension in his shoulders, comforted that he wasn’t being examined.

“So if you’re not here for business, why is a beautiful girl like you talking to me? I’m nothing special, I’m just a guy in an overpriced suit.”

Caving into the temptation to look him up and down, your gaze wandered to Stan’s hands, gently trembling as he held his burger.

“Because I like you, Peter,” you grinned at the sound of your company’s new moniker. “You and that suit. But you’re so much more than that suit, you know.”

“Eh, I’m not so sure about that. Matt doesn’t seem to think so either.”

“Screw what Bromley the office bully thinks,” you slammed the table with your palm. “This is about you. The guy who stopped to talk to a girl who looked like she was hustling outside your building, the guy who’s not afraid to sit in a diner with a total stranger to save her from his coworker. Face it, Peter, you’re one of the good guys.”

His lips tapered into a warm smile. “Thank you, miss, for not jumping to conclusions about me.”

“Don’t get me wrong, the pinstripes suit you. They’d look better on my floor, but...”

Stan immediately looked up from his food to your eyes, scanning for any sign of humour or any chance you were just trying to make him feel better.

“Did you just—?”

“I think I did!” You giggled, a hint of disbelief in your own words. “Is that a problem?”

Frozen in the moment, Stan just stared at you for a minute. His next move was exhilaratingly unpredictable, leaving your heart rate thundering in your ears, but something about the shimmer in his eyes suggested you wouldn’t have to worry.

“Peter, what’s wrong, did I—?”

You were cut off by Stan’s lips crashing into yours, lunging over the table and hooking a hand around your neck to draw you in. His kiss deepened with every second, dipping his nose into your cheek and moaning softly into your mouth. As you parted, his ear-to-ear grin beamed back to mirror yours.

“Yuppies don’t kiss like that,” you joked.

“You should see me in the bedroom,” he retorted with a laugh.

“Deal.”

———

Hollywood movies were right about one thing: sex in the throes of passion often starts in the same way — bundling through your lover’s uptown hotel room with your legs wrapped around his waist while he juggles his keycard, both peppering sloppy open-mouthed kisses and showering each other with distracted affection until he drops you onto the satin sheets.

Stan, courteous as ever, gently placed you on the sprawling bed without his lips leaving yours, crawling between your thighs before thinking how to undress himself. With both his hands preoccupied passionately lacing into your hair, you grasped at the hem of your dress to take it off yourself.

“Hold on, princess,” he muttered into your mouth, immediately untangling a hand to trace down your figure and met your attempts to hitch your skirt. “Let me strip you.”

Stan thumbed at the edge of the fabric, savouring the moment before you became so much more than a beautiful stranger to him, before slowly rolling your dress up, passing your neck and whipping it over your head to limit the time before he could kiss you again.

“Peter, are you sure about this?” You queried out of respect while casting aside his evidently expensive belt, tearing his braces from his shoulders and laying waste to his shirt buttons.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” he hummed against your lips between hot and ragged breaths. “And my name’s not fucking Peter.”

Stan made light work of yanking your panties down to your knees around him, unhooking them from one leg for quicker access and throwing the bundle of lace across the room, soon followed by your bra. In the blur of clothes flying, you tackled his suit pants down to his knees and slipped his silk boxers to join them. The less you thought about those silk boxers, the better.

With no clothes left between you, Stan pressed his bare chest against yours, his heart racing so fast it could burst out of his rib cage.

A needy groan erupted in his throat as he tore his lips away from yours, journeying to pepper heated kisses down your throat, sucking gently as his lips reached your collarbone and followed south to your breasts. While his tongue expertly swirled around one nipple, his hand travelled to the other and kneaded hungrily, gently rolling the hardening bud between his thumb and forefinger.

Your soft moan as he sucked harder gave him the signal to trail his fingers down your frame, his palm traversing the plane of your hips before he reached your exposed clit, tracing lazy circles around your bundle of nerves. Your back arched wildly into his touch, reaching a hand to wind into his brown curls when your helpless, urgent moans grew in volume.

“Don’t worry baby girl, I won’t leave you hanging much longer,” Stan whispered through a satisfied smile against your breast. “I just need to taste you first.”

His circling finger journeyed south to track around your folds, swollen and pulsing in anticipation of his next move. Slowly dipping the tip of his finger through your soaking entrance, your hips bucked upwards and instinctively widened your legs beneath him.

“That’s my good girl, spread yourself wide for me.” Stan’s eyelids fluttered excitedly, adding another finger inside your aching cunt and hooking both to graze your soft walls. His lips left your nipple so he could gaze at your form writhing beneath him, completely at his mercy.

His curled fingers pressed urgently into your walls, building an uncontrollable pressure within you and forcing your eyes to roll to the ceiling. Stan noticed you nearing ecstasy and immediately withdrew his dripping fingers, raising them to his lips and pressing them to his tongue.

“I knew you’d taste like heaven,” he cooed gently, lifting up to dip his head into your neck placing searing hot kisses beneath your ear. “Cat got your tongue, Miss New York Post?”

“I... I...,” you stuttered weakly, your whole body alight with waves of heat and anticipation you’d never felt before. “I...”

“You’re not usually this quiet,” Stan whispered. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

“I... need... you...”

He hummed contentedly, trailing his hand south to line the head of his cock with your throbbing entrance.

“What’s that, princess? You want me to fuck you?” Stan questioned with false innocence, a devious smirk plumping his cheeks. “You’ve been such a good girl waiting for me, I think you’ve earned it.”

In one smooth rock of his hips, Stan’s length slipped through your folds and bottomed out inside you. Your eyes journeyed to the ceiling as he filled you, spine arching recklessly craving more friction. He drew his hips back slowly, but his next thrust slammed his cock inside you so hard, you let out a hollow gasp.

“I know baby, I know,” Stan comforted you, curling his hips to ensure every thrust brushed the tip of his length against your deepest points and revelling in your squirms under him. “You’re taking me so well.”

Lost for words in the stars emerging in the corners of your eyes, you remained speechless as Stan broke down every single one of your weaknesses and turned you into putty in his hands. Jerking uncontrollably and sinking your head back into the pillow with every devastating thrust, Stan kissed your exposed neck and moaned deeply. Seizing his opportunity, both hands flew to lightly grasp your throat, his thumbs calmly resting on your windpipe — his aim wasn’t to choke you, just to hold onto you enough to assert his ownership of you, claiming you as you writhed beneath him. He leaned back to admire his work of unravelling you, possessing you.

“Look at you,” he hummed through a grin, not missing a single beat of his determined thrusts. “You’re so, so beautiful.”

Chasing you to your height of ecstasy once more, Stan’s staccato rhythm jackhammered into you at the same rate as the tremors consuming your body beneath his. Your vision of his bouncing brown curls above you started to fade behind the glittering haze taking over your mind. Fighting for consciousness, you stuttered a hollow cry for release as you approached your climax.

“Stan, I— I need to... I’m gonna cu—.”

“It’s okay baby, I’ve got you,” Stan reassured, wrapping an arm around your neck and pulling you into his chest as his hips grew frantic and sloppy. “Let go for me.”

With a deep growl and a final erratic thrust, Stan spilled against your walls, flooding warmth inside you that sent your head dipping into the pillows. His lips gently pecked your throat again as he poured his length back to the depths of your pussy, pushing his load as far inside you as possible.

Emerging from the depths of the pillow as you regained control of your legs wrapped around his waist, Stan slowly drew his hips back and slipped his length out from your swollen folds, his gaze dropping to your entrance as if making sure his cum wouldn’t drip out. Content that he hadn’t left any suspicious stains on the hotel sheets, Stan returned to gaze into your eyes and beamed from ear to ear.

“You... you called me Stan?” He quizzed while tumbling down to the pillow beside you, a puzzled eyebrow quirking beneath beads of sweat.

“You called me princess,” you retaliated with a joking tap of his chest. “I think we’re equal here, don’t you?”

Stan chuckled to himself and turned to face you, propping his head up with an exhausted, trembling hand. A palpable silence fell as he composed his next sentence.

“Was this, er... would you... can you...,” He stumbled nervously over his words; his assertive alter ego must have left as soon as he came.

“Cat got your tongue, Mr Trump Organi—“

“Stay.”

Your gaze dropped to your chest as you laughed it off. “As much as I’d love to, I got the feeling this was just a one-off for you?”

“That’s what I thought you wanted, too,” Stan confirmed with a quirked eyebrow.

Chuckling to yourself, you shook your head to dismiss all the worries that the dapper businessman would make you do the walk of shame once he’d finished.

“Then I’ll stay, sugar,” you beamed, settling into Stan’s chest as he scooped his arm beneath your head.

“We’ll get room service to dry clean your dress and I’ll drive you to work in the morning, if that’s okay?” Stan’s courteous streak had definitely returned.

You smiled broadly, nodding against Stan’s chest and swooping an arm around his waist.

“Besides, now you can tell me all about that presidential tip-off you had,” he quizzed. “Trump may be an extremely powerful guy, but he’s never gonna be president…”

[cjsinkythoughts]

FATWS One Shot #5 - Reminiscing

Word Count: 1195

Warnings: Mention of The Fall, Cursing, Teasing, Fluff, Not Much Else

Setting/Characters: Takes place before they moved to D.C., so before Stars, Stripes, and Bubbles and CA:TWS; In New York City; Reader, Steve Rogers

A/N: I didn’t post any writing today so I whipped this up because I wanted to at least put a dent in the One Shot list. I know it’s a bit out of order, but I got this request and I wanted to make it separate from the movie scenes because I felt like Steve would’ve told her this before. They also hadn’t visited the museum yet, obviously, or else she’d know about him already. It’s just a cute little thing about the good ole days. It’s a bit shorter, but there wasn’t much more to add and I like it the way it is.

I’ll try posting more this week; I’m babysitting my little cousin tomorrow and Tuesday, but I’m off work Wednesday, so I’ll be able to write more then. The next One Shot is already being worked on; it’s back in order so it’s gonna take place during TWS. I have to update the One Shot list to accommodate the ideas brainstormed between myself, a couple friends, and you lovely readers.

This isn’t beta’d, as usual, so please excuse any mistakes! Be kind to yourselves and others! Enjoy this one, thank you for reading, and stay tuned!

FATWS Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

You let out a wolf whistle, leaning on the back of Steve’s chair. “Who is that? He’s pretty cute. You know, for someone from a hundred years ago.”

Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes at you with a smile on his lips. It fell when he looked back down at the black and white picture that was fraying at the ends and had a tint to it from the time it’s spent on the earth. The young man you were pointing at, probably mid-20s if you had to guess, was grinning at the camera, looking sharp in an Army uniform, hat tilted on his head.

“That’s…Bucky.”

“Bucky?” You snickered, but then you caught sight of the far off look in Steve’s eye and found yourself frowning. “Who was he?”

“He was…” Steve sighed, leaning back into the chair, his head falling back onto your forearm. “He was my best friend.”

You set your chin on his shoulder, looking at another picture, yellowing with time. He was in that one too, over to the side with a cigarette in his mouth, his arm around two other soldiers, dark hair slicked back. You had heard about the Howling Commandos, who you were guessing were the other guys in the photo. Everyone learned about them in history class in grade school. Captain America and his Commandos fighting against HYDRA, beating the Nazis and saving the day. “Did you meet in Italy?”

“No.” Steve shook his head, carefully setting down the beat up picture. “We…we met when we were kids. We grew up together. In Brooklyn.”

Humming, you studied him, noting the tightened jaw and the crease in his brow, you looked down and tilted your head, spotting another picture of the two of them smiling. Tracing it gently, you tenderly inquired, “he meant a lot to you?”

“He was my brother. He was always there for me. At my lowest, he held me up. I never was truly alone. I always had him.”

You could hear the grief in his voice as he spoke in adoration about the man, frozen in time with a smile on his face in a frame to protect him from fading. “What happened?” You asked softly, running your fingers through Steve’s gold locks that were falling in his eyes.

Steve gave a heavy sigh, closing his eyes. “A mission went sideways. To catch Zola?” He looked up at you to see if you had read about that particular operation of theirs in a file somewhere. You nodded, remembering vaguely the mission he was talking about.

“A train in the Alps, right? I thought you caught him, though.”

The man nodded, sad eyes avoiding your gaze. “We did. But…we were ambushed. Bucky…Bucky and I were separated. I tried to get to him…I couldn’t-” He stopped talking, closing his eyes to compose himself. “He fell and I couldn’t reach him in time.”

“Steve…” you shook your head, scratching that spot at the nape of his neck you knew helped him relax. “It wasn’t your fault, bubs.” He opened his mouth to argue, but decided against it and nodded. “May I?”

He nodded again when you gestured to the box he had on the desk in front of him, letting you look through the other pictures he had. “Tell me about him.”

The blonde gave a little chuckle, smiling fondly at the memories spinning around in his brain. “He was a jerk. He always tried to keep my outta trouble. We met after some kids tried stealing my lunch money. I-I kinda tried fighting them. He beat ‘em up for me.”

“You never did like bullies.”

He grinned at you. “No…no I didn’t. There was this one time…”

You leaned your cheek against his shoulder and watched his face light up as he told you stories about him and Bucky being boys. Playing in the mud, racing through Central Park, going to Coney Island, eating ice cream, sitting on the fire escape. 

“He used to read to me. A lot. When I got sick and stuff. He liked reading. He told me it was his way of taking me somewhere without getting outta bed. I used to draw him scenes from his favorite books while listening. It gave me something to do with my hands. That’s why I picked it up. I could do it from bed.”

“Did he draw too?”

“Hell no! Pal could barely draw a stick figure! I made him take this art class with me and all he did was mope about it because it was the only class he had trouble in. But it was our agreement; he could take me to the gym he went to if he came with me to class.”

You giggled at the image of scrawny little Steve in a gym. “You went to a gym?”

He gave you a bemused look. “You’re not funny. Yes I went to a gym. I didn’t do much. Bucky trained a lot though. He was the YMCA welterweight champion three years in a row.”

“No kidding.” You picked up a picture of Bucky sitting on a couple steps, a t-shirt tucked into pants being held up by suspenders. “Look at those arms.”

“Shuddup!” Steve laughed, pushing you playfully. 

You sniggered. “I’m just saying. I bet he got all the ladies.”

“Are you kidding? Dames lined up at the door to dance with him. You would’ve too,” he poked your side. “If you lived back then.”

You shook your head, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “He’s cute, but I’d much rather watch you draw.”

Steve snorted. “Trust me. You’d be singing a different tune if you met him. You would’ve liked him. He would’ve liked you.” He went quiet, his expression morphing into one of contemplation.

“Well anyone willing to stand up and hang out with that stubborn kid from Brooklyn has my vote.” You joked, ruffling his locks.

Steve didn’t say anything. He just looked at you for a minute, before turning back to the pictures and starting to clear them away. “I’m gonna put these away and we can go for that run, alright?”

You nodded, getting off of him and stretching. “Alright. But you can’t lap me again!” He chortled at that, smirking not so innocently. “I’m so serious, Rogers! That was mean! I feel so out of shape when you do that!”

“Alright, alright. I won’t honey. I promise.” He grabbed your hand and placed a kiss to your knuckles. “And you’re beautiful no matter what, okay?”

“Sure, bubba.”

“I mean it!”

You smiled at his insistence, his eyebrow knit together in seriousness. “Okay. Meet me outside when you’re done.”

“Yes ma’am!” He nodded, spinning back to his keepsakes and adding as an afterthought, “wanna go see a moving picture?”

You gave him an amused look, trying not to laugh. “Yeah, Stevie. I’d love to go see a movie with you.”

He blushed, the tips of his ears turning bright red. “Movies. Right.”

“Don’t worry about it, Steve. It’s endearing.” You winked at him as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Now hurry up. I wanna get out there before it gets too hot.”

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All Works Taglist (Open):

@happygoreading​ @bibliophilewednesday​ @breadqueen95​ @marvelettesassemble​ @w-wolfhxrd​

[selfproducingfanfictionauthor]

BTS scenario: Yoongi finds you after 1,871 days (1)

Summary: It takes 1,871 days for Yoongi to find you. Five years, one month, and four days. He’s turned over every house in your village, every pack in your province, and chased your family to every distant home you have before arriving to a quaint apartment in the middle of Seoul. Warnings/Notes: The continuation to Yoongi’s part in this scenario drabble. Please read because it might not sense if you don’t lol. No warnings as of now. 

Word Count: 1,500+ words READ PART TWO HERE

It takes 1,871 days for Yoongi to find you.

Five years, one month, and four days. He’s turned over every house in your village, every pack in your province, and chased your family to every distant home you have before arriving to a quaint apartment in the middle of Seoul.

Inside the car and behind the tinted windows, Yoongi stares up to your apartment. It’s small, but it comes with a balcony where clothes hang to dry. He recognizes a familiar red blouse, and a blue jumper.

What he doesn’t recognize are these: a small pair of shorts, a school uniform, and a plain shirt - all in a size of perfect for a child.

1,871 days is a long time but you split it like this: the time before Yongho and the time after Yongho.

It didn’t take long for you to leave the pack after that night with Yoongi. You knew then that if you drag your feet, you’ll never be able to leave. So, with your family’s promise and blessing, you packed your bags, your savings, and your heart and boarded the next plane out of the country.

You didn’t think Yoongi would look for you (but you hoped, desperately, sometimes even too much) but still, you took serious precautions. Running away with an alpha’s child is not a slight offense regardless of the reason.

With no family and no friends, you hunkered down in the outskirts of Taipei. You watched summer turn to fall, and then by winter, your arms are warmed by the small bundle of joy that is your son.

Yongho is a precious boy, with your nose and lips, and Yoongi’s feline eyes. He’s curious, energetic, and affectionate, and not a day goes by that you’re not thankful for his presence.

When he turned three, and with no new news of Yoongi coming from your family, you opted to return to your homeland to finish your post-graduate studies. You never planned on hiding Yongho from his father forever, but for years after you left, your family urged you not to reveal yourself.

The pack has splintered, stay hidden until everything settles. They are invoking the old law.

And so you did, however, now, circumstances have changed.

“Yongho, I’d like to introduce you to someone.”

Yoongi watches a few steps behind you as you kneel down to your child’s height. Even with your crouching form, he still couldn’t see his son’s features. He’s small for his age, he muses, just like he was in his youth.

Yoongi hears a sound of high-pitched approval from his child, before your lips curve into a familiar smile.

“Good,” you say, “Why don’t you change clothes and then you can join us in the kitchen?”

The little boy scampers away with a giggle and you silently turn to Yoongi, leading him to the kitchen.

Your apartment isn’t small, but it’s not large either. The kitchen is quaint with herbs growing on the small window by the sink. Yoongi smells the leftover scents of bacon, milk, and eggs from the air mixed with the tea you placed in front of him.

For a while, it’s silent and Yoongi takes care to observe you.

It’s been five years but somehow, the difference startles him. Though your features remained the same, there’s a certain hardness to it now, like a polished sword - a calm protective air.

“Mama! I’m ready!”

Your scent immediately spikes with warmth as you hear your son’s steps down the stairs. You turn in your chair, catching him so readily in your arms.

“I combed my hair too, see?” Yongho peers up to you with a smile, one of his front teeth missing. Smiling fondly, you touch his hair lightly. “I see that, my love, good job.”

Yongho grins before turning and glancing at the man with his eyes, sitting at the other end of your dining table. His smile wobbles at the seriousness in the man’s face but he perseveres. He’s a guest, mama said.

Seeing that Yoongi has caught your son’s attention, you clear your throat. You’ve never lied about your son’s father ever since he first asked about it when he was three, and so this conversation shouldn’t be hard.

“Yongho, this is Yoongi, your father.”

The secondary gender’s characteristics manifests early into puberty. However, with the advancement of science and technology, people have found a way to determine an individual’s secondary gender as early as they’re 6 months old.

You tried avoiding these tests for Yongho to give him a shot at a regular, unburdened childhood but it became unavoidable when you tried to enroll him to his first pre-school class.

It had taken all of your family’s dwindling connections to scrub the records clean but even that isn’t enough to keep the news from reaching the elders ears.

Your son, little Y/L/N Yongho, is the rarest of them all - a male omega.

And so you called Yoongi. It’s less of him finding you, and more of you allowing yourself to be found. With nothing left to possibly do, you reached out to the only one you think can help.

Things have settled quite quickly, your son is young, forgiving and eager. At the sight of his father, he quickly warmed up and you watched Yoongi struggle faintly at the overwhelming energy of your pup.

They spent the whole day in his room, watching movie after movie, and playing with every toy Yongho owns. He even showed his father his drawings, most of which were of the town you lived in Taiwan.

“So that’s where you went.” Yoongi observes, finger touching the crayon drawing of you and Yongho making pineapple cakes.

The sun has already set and Yongho’s knocked out in his room. The two of you are once again across each other, on the other sides of your mahogany kitchen table.

“Yes,” you respond calmly, “We stayed there for three years.”

Yoongi breathes, closes his eyes and tries not to think of you, heavily pregnant and alone. There’s time to discuss the past, but that’s not today. Still, he couldn’t help the bitterness seep into his voice, not after he’s known what he missed for five years.

A son, a beautiful son.

“Had I known you’re craving pineapple cakes, we would’ve sent for it.”

I looked for you, he wants to say, I nearly went mad, looking for you.

You let out a pained chuckle, “Funny. I actually couldn’t stand it when I was pregnant. Yongho loves them though.”

“Why am I here?” Yoongi cuts, his alpha rearing its head. That’s our blood she hid, it snarls, our seed, our son - she took him away!

Wordlessly, you took out a red envelope from under your seat. The familiar seal of the pack elders broken into two. You slide it towards Yoongi and watch as he reads it contents.

You watch as his eyes grow sharper and his jaw clench reading the request of the elders. He too, has changed, you observe. The wild energy you’ve associated with him is gone, perhaps veiled under the surface.

After all, an omega’s chosen alpha should be a man of discipline.

“They can’t do this,” Yoongi grits out. “It’s against the law to take a child from their family.”

You shake your head, nights poured over the texts of your youth heavy on your mind, “The pack only recognizes families of mated individuals.”

Yoongi’s eyes flicker at your unmarked neck and his alpha curls into himself. Unmarked. Our son’s mother is unmarked, it whimpers. Before he could speak, you continue on.

“I’ve read the books, and sought advice from the Wong pack of Taipei, there are two ways to avoid this—“

Marriage, Yoongi thinks, and the box in his pocket suddenly weighs a ton. He’s carried it around for five years, hoping to find you. 

“—but since mating is out of question—“ a flash of the old you passes in your eyes, and Yoongi opens his mouth to protest, but you don’t stop.

“— I’ve invoked the ancient law.” You pause, taking a deep breathe. “A month from now, I’ll be battling the primary alpha of the pack for the custody of our child.”

Yoongi gasps. The primary alpha… is Jeon Jungkook, one of their strongest and most devoted to the omega. He’ll tear you apart if she so asks.

Yoongi startles when you push your chair back, standing suddenly in front of him. Your eyes are brimming with unshed tears, but your back is straight, as you kneel down- your forehead to the ground, a few inches from his feet.

“Min Yoongi, alpha of the Min family, father of my son, my former betrothed — for all that we were and we cannot be, I beseech you.”

Yoongi’s alpha is snarling inside his head, confused, scared, angry at your thoughtless decision and his own thoughtlessness that lead you here. It’s a visceral reaction - an alpha doesn’t bow to another alpha, but here you are.  Everything for your son. 

“If I lose, take our son. He needs your name.”

END NOTES: Well, this got out of hand. There’s a lot unsaid between these two and a lot of time passed by between the them in the drabble and this one. Let me know what you think! I’m thinking of where to bring the other hyungline members’ plotlines still.  Hearts are great but comments and reblogs will reach a lot more readers. Let’s spread the love!  Should I continue Yoongi’s story? What do you think will happen? TAG LIST: @justmewondering-recs @cloudbuffalo @blushingatyou @aroseharder @neverthefirstchoice @xanny91 @sugaaddiction @flirtygerty​ @darkskin-buttercup​

[stutterfly]

Failure to Communicate

This was a joint collab fic that @gukslut​ and I worked on, commissioned by @cypherft-v as part of our fundraising for Black Lives Matter. Thank you for contributing! Banner & moodboard by me :)

{Pairing} Park Jimin/ Reader

{Genre} Enemies to Lovers/ College AU/ comedy/ smut

{Rating} Mature - Explicit 

{Word Count} 21K

{Warnings} oral, kissing, fingering, protected sex, biting, marking, other filthy shit

{Summary} You've always had a crush on Park Jimin, but the truth is that you're just one of many. He just so happens to be the TA for one of your classes, and you're determined to make your feelings known. Whether or not he takes you seriously remains to be seen.

{Prompt} Could either of you write an enemies to lover story about jimin and y/n set in college where he was her TA and got her kicked out of her major bc he didnt give her the grade she needed and was generally unhelpful? Posted on tumblr on August 17, 2020 by stutterfly and cross-posted to Ao3. I do not allow reposting, translations, or edits, to any platform, including YouTube.

Ten more minutes. You can barely see the clock from your seat against the wall. The lecture hall isn't crowded by any means; to the contrary, this Tuesday/Thursday psych class is usually pretty empty. You could have just as easily sat in the middle, but it doesn't afford you the same view. Well, it does. But not the one you prefer. It's just that positioned front and center, your staring would look more obvious. At least that's what you're telling yourself. If you stare from the corner it's less conspicuous, which is important because you do a lot of staring in this class. Park Jimin is the TA.

The man in question sits off to the side at a table of his own, typing away on his laptop. This reminds you that you haven’t been doing much other than quietly ogling from a distance. The only notes you're taking are lackluster doodles of his appearance and the occasional squiggle of your pen at the quiet sighs he lets out when he stretches his back after sitting hunched over his laptop for too long.

Jimin is absolutely breathtaking — even in an ugly plaid three-piece suit and perfectly round spectacles that would look horrid on any normal person. You're definitely not the only one who has noticed. His beautiful features and fantastic bone structure forge a man who is borderline ethereal. With soft eyes, big pouty lips, a flawless complexion, and a flirtatious demeanor he has enraptured many over the years. He's popular... like, really popular.

You begrudgingly count yourself among those love-smitten numbers. You know it’s hopeless and illogical. He could have any person he so desired at any point in time. Why would he ever choose someone like you? If you’d been paying any sort of attention to the subject matter of this class you might know that things like feelings and life’s rhetorical questions often don’t make sense.

But you’re shit at psychology. You’re more of a blunt poet at heart, and that heart is often hidden behind twisted brambles of anxiety and sharp thorns of insecurity.

You are but a speck of dirt upon his round glasses. It’s been a hopeless, silent crush for some time, but now that he’s assisting the professor in this core requirement for your academic studies, he has to acknowledge your presence. You’re a speck he has to look at before swiping you out of sight with a wave of his hand.

He's the object of just about everyone's affections, and rightfully so. He's not just gorgeous, he's charismatic, charming, and such a smooth talker. The word on campus says those pretty lips of his can do a lot of other really wonderful things too. You've been watching him chew on them for the past five minutes straight, wondering how many times his deliciously pink tongue can sweep over them before he makes them chapped.

Maybe they're chapped already. Maybe you should offer him your chapstick? Or maybe you should never talk to him at all, because you don't stand a chance. Park Jimin would chew you up and leave you bleeding out with a broken heart, and you know it. That doesn't stop you from imagining all the ways he could take you in his mouth first. You could watch those pretty lips all day long, but you’ll settle for an hour on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Looking up as if he's been paying attention all along, Jimin attempts to figure out where the professor is in the lesson. It’s obvious that he wasn't listening at all and was instead answering messages. It would be nice if he could say they were messages for class, but that's not true and Jimin is a lot of things, but he isn't a liar. He's been talking to Chungha, his current flavor of the week.

He turns toward the students as the professor dismisses the class and there you are, eager and awestruck. It takes every ounce of self control Jimin has not to roll his eyes. Another fan, he presumes. You can't handle him, but he can tell by the embarrassed way you tear your eyes from him to look anywhere else that it hasn't stopped you from thinking about it.

Trying to seem nonchalant now is a lost cause. Jimin has no shame and although you busied yourself by packing up your neglected textbooks and darting your gaze to various points in the room for a straight minute, Jimin is still staring at you when you look back at him. He smirks when your eyes meet. It's not a flirty kind of smirk, you sadly note. It's condescending in your eyes, which further solidifies your theory: Jimin is too much for you no matter how badly you want a taste of him.

"Did you take notes?" he asks, nodding toward your backpack where you've just tucked your computer and sketched up notebook.

"I- uhh..." You panic.

"You know that was all about the exam next week. You're gonna need those notes if you want to have any hope of passing it," he tells you, shoving his own computer into his bag.

"I was just.. um, I was--" you attempt to explain.

"Busy staring at me?" He smiles and you know he knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s teasing oh gyou.

You balk at the blatant accusation and force a half-laugh, half-scoff from your throat. “No.”

"Yes," he corrects with a light and mellifluous laugh. "Is there pen on my face or were you hoping you could be?"

"What?" you choke, eyes watering at the idea.

Jimin shakes his head, laughing softly to himself as he remembers his surroundings. With a small clear of his throat and the subtle adjusting of his tie, he provides a suggestion for you. “Get them from Taehyung.”

"Get what?" you ask, drawing a blank on what this conversation was even about. It's the first time you've ever actually talked to him outside of your dreams and it’s proving to be a lot harder than you thought it would be.

"The notes, Y/N. Get the notes from Taehyung, you know, the ones that you didn't take today because you were daydreaming about my mouth," he tells you, heading for the door.

Taehyung, who is the only other person left in the room wiggles his fingers at you in a wave. When you turn back, Jimin is gone.

"Need the notes?" Taehyung asks, voice free of judgement.

"Please," you sigh, relieved that he'd waited.

He spins his laptop toward you, where an email is already open with the notes attachment added. "Drop your address in there," he says standing up.

"Thank you so much," you say, frantically typing your student email into the space.

"Hey, y/n?" Taehyung asks, the bristles of curiosity or concern painting his tone with a soft comfort.

"Yeah?"

"Jimin is a fool," he tells you.

"What?"

"If you were looking at me like that, I'd at least ask for your number." Tae offers a combination of large hopeful eyes and a giant goofy grin as he holds his phone out for you.

Giggling, you take it from his hand and add your number to his contacts list. He purses his lips to hide his excitement as he takes his phone back. He slides it into his pocket before hastily packing the rest of his things into his leather messenger bag.

"Thanks, Taehyung," you say, waving on your way out the door.

"Wait!" he shouts after you, half of the contents of his bag threatening to spill onto the floor as he scrambles away from the table. He adjusts his belongings and clears his throat, instantly adopting a smooth persona. "Where are you going? I'll walk you."

"My car?"

"Wanna come eat with me?" he wonders. He's confident, but it's not the same kind of arrogant confidence that Jimin oozes. He's softer. He feels more real, more attainable. He obviously knows he's a catch and he’s definitely expressed the same about you. What could be the harm in letting an attractive man stroke your ego a little bit? If you’re being honest with yourself, you can use the boost after such a pathetic display towards your crush.

"Oh, uh... yeah. I guess so," you agree, letting him lead the way out the door.

"Cool." Tae takes his glasses off and hooks them in his shirt. Pulling a snapback from his bag, he pushes his hair back and puts it on before he swings his messenger bag over his shoulder. Damn. Why did that raise his hotness like ten whole levels?

"You like hamburgers?"

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

Taehyung slips into the seat next to you on Thursday, brushing against you very deliberately as he passes.

"Hello, sugar," he says, licking his lips as he spares a fleeting glance down at your chest.

"Hey, Tae," you greet him while your eyes are still locked on Jimin.

"Still on Jimin, huh?" he asks. He doesn't sound particularly disappointed, or surprised for that matter. He's just stating a fact. You're relieved he's not offended. Letting him eat you out in his backseat after dinner was probably not your best decision, although it seems like it meant about as much to him as it did to you.

"I don't know," you say with a shrug.

"It's okay. I can't blame you. I could put in a good word for you if you want. We're close," he informs you, sitting back and spreading his legs wide under the desk.

Sighing, you rest your cheek in your palm. "I've got a plan," you confess.

"Oh yeah?" he chuckles. He playfully knocks his knee against yours as if to signal for you to spill. "Do tell."

"I think I need a little extra help with this material," you tell Taehyung.

"Good luck, Y/n. I hope he can squeeze you into his busy schedule, but hey, if he can't, I'm totally down to squeeze into yours anytime."

Looking at Tae out of the corner of your eye, you smile at the grin he wears and start to laugh at the way he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

"I'll keep that in mind," you joke.

"Please do."

The minutes drag on as you wait for this class to end. Doing your best to seem a little less obsessive this time, you make a point to take notes and look at the teacher more than the TA. Jimin still catches you staring at least three times. It's embarrassing, but not enough to stop you from approaching him as the room empties out.

"Hi, y/n," Jimin sings, giving you a knowing smile.

"Hi." You tuck your hair behind your ear, and smile back.

"Do you need something?" he wonders, purposefully combing his fingers through his silver hair.

Damn, do you ever.

"I was wondering if you had time to help me. I'm struggling with this material and I could really use some one-on-one guidance." Leaning over his desk you make sure he has a good view right down your shirt, not that his eyes wander from yours. While he shows restraint in his gaze you swear he briefly drags his bottom lip through his teeth before he catches himself.

"One-on-one, huh?" He sticks his tongue in his cheek, looking amused. "I bet Taehyung would give you some one-on-one guidance."

You're sure that's true, but it's not Taehyung you're after. Taehyung isn’t the TA. Taehyung isn’t getting paid to help teach a course. Of course you want to say that and in your head you rehearse the words but you can’t seem to find a way to phrase them eloquently enough. Why do you always get stupid brain around him? Your plan is quickly falling apart.

Jimin waits for your response with his eyebrows raised. You know he's two seconds away from leaving you gaping at him and walking out the door, so you do something incredibly rash and stupid.

"I like you," you blurt out.

Jimin smiles. He knows that, obviously. He also knows damn well that you're perfectly capable of looking back at your notes by yourself. You're definitely smart and dedicated enough to study on your own. He can't help teasing you anyway.

"Everyone likes me," he casually informs you as he plants his palms on the desk and leans on them.

He peeks over the edge of his glasses as he looks up at you, like some kind of otherworldly sexy librarian. If deities ever needed a librarian, Jimin wouldn’t even need a resume. His charm and seduction are so strong that you almost miss his rejection. Almost. You're stunned into silence when it hits you. Just as you're about to tuck and run, he smiles again.

"But,” he pauses to click his tongue thoughtfully, “I think I have some time on Saturday. I'll give you my number.” He rips a corner of paper out of his notebook. "Is it okay if I come to your place? Do you have a dorm or…”

"Oh. My apartment’s fine!" you flounder, trying to remember how to speak coherent sentences. Jimin. In your room. How many dreams have you had about this moment? "I mean, yeah, sure. You'll come to mine, yeah."

Jimin giggles and it sounds like pealing bells. You're lost in the beautiful sound of it until you realize that he's laughing at you. "You okay with that? We could meet somewhere else instead."

"I wouldn't mind you in my room," you sigh. Open mouth; insert foot.

He raises an eyebrow, giving you a chance to backtrack, but you're both well aware you meant every word of that.

"Okay, y/n. See you Saturday then. Call me."

"I’ll call you," you repeat, resisting the urge to slap your palm over your face. You sound like an idiot. Stupid brain strikes again.

Jimin barely notices, all too used to girls falling over themselves to get his attention. You’re no different to him, just another pretty face in a sea of women entranced by the way he walks, talks, and breathes. It’s not his fault he’s so damn pretty. He does note that you’re brave, however. Not many people come on to him so brazenly, and that’s something worth rewarding. Besides, he feels a sort of obligation to help you out. He is getting paid to help out the professor, after all.

He winks at you as he leaves, taking your breath and your sanity with him. You have Park Jimin’s phone number. Park Jimin is going to be in your apartment in two days. Maybe you didn’t bomb that as hard as you thought.

A slow clap beckons you to look back for the source and you find Taehyung looking back at you with his boxy grin. When he’s sure he’s got your attention he raises his two thumbs up in approval.

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

Jimin is not surprised when Chungha disappears into the clusterfuck of bodies as soon as they step into the party. They may have come here together, but their fling is on its last leg and they both know it. She wants him off her couch, doesn't appreciate the feeling of tied-down-ness that comes with your friend with benefits staying over all the time. She's ready to move on, that means he has to as well.

Jimin isn't even sure whose house this is, but he’s happy to tag along for free booze and maybe a new face to go home with. Luckily, his friends are never far, and he finds them easily. Getting absolutely hammered in the backyard makes them hard to miss. Jungkook is the only one looking particularly bored as a very drunk Taehyung hangs all over him talking about the sweetest thing he ever tasted.

"Why so glum?" Jimin asks, nudging Jungkook's shoulder with his own.

"I'm the designated driver tonight," Jungkook sighs, pushing Taehyung off of him.

Taehyung slumps to the ground, immediately entranced by the stars above him. Jungkook kicks at him gently.

"Where's your girlfriend? I haven't seen you without your tongue down her throat all week," Jungkook wonders, looking behind Jimin for the woman in question.

"Girlfriend," Jimin repeats with a snort. "Hilarious. That's not a thing. She's probably looking for her next kill."

Jungkook regards Jimin thoughtfully, his eyebrows scrunching toward each other. "If you take over DD you can have the futon."

Jungkook loves his futon. It's one of his most prized possessions. He keeps it very clean and being allowed to get anywhere near it is a privilege. Jimin is pretty sure he goes over it with a lint roller as part of his nighttime routine. It's also incredibly comfortable.

Jimin releases a breath in a tortured groan as he thinks over his options. He could get black out drunk and wake up god knows where with a terrible hangover, or he could hang out and watch his friends get black out drunk and then wake up on a futon that feels more like a cloud than a mattress, a little slice of heaven in Jungkook and Taehyung's little apartment.

"Okay," Jimin relents. "Give me the keys. I’ll stick to water for the rest of the night."

"Ah, I love you man," Jungkook praises, tossing his keys in Jimin's general direction before grabbing the newly opened can of beer out of Taehyung's hand below him. Taehyung, still staring up at the sky with a glazed smile, doesn't react. It takes Jungkook all of five seconds to pour the contents of the can straight down his throat. He follows this by smashing the can in a bicep curl with a giggle and a bashful smile.

"Do it again," an unfamiliar girly voice pleads from across the table. She tosses him another can and he repeats the action, turning away when he's finished so that he doesn't have to see her reaction. Jimin knows what's going to happen once his friend gets a few more beers in him. Jungkook is going to go apeshit. There will be no trace of this shy hunk of muscle who blushes and coils away from pretty girls. He'll be chest thumping shirtless and picking up everyone who gets close enough to touch. Half of them will probably end up thrown in the pool, if history is anything to go by, and he'll most likely have the hottest girl at the party slobbering all over him in the backseat when Jimin drives him home tonight.

Jimin's suspicions prove true an hour later when Jungkook throws Tae in the pool. Jimin runs to the edge of it in a panic. Tae was very drunk so he needs to make sure he's not just sinking like a stone. That was his first mistake, although he'd make it again to keep Taehyung safe. His second mistake was wearing these ridiculously tight ass jeans.

Any other pair and he might have been able to pry his cell phone from his pocket the second he felt JK's hands on his back. Had he worn any other pair of pants he might have been able to throw it to safety in the grass before he hit the surface of the pool. As it stands, his skin tight jeans are soaked through, Tae is slightly more sober than he was when Jimin arrived and is swimming just fine, and Jimin's phone is totally destroyed.

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

You should be sleeping. It's three in the morning. You should definitely not be awake right now. Lifting your phone up for the three hundredth time tonight, you're not surprised to have no new notifications. That text you sent to Jimin hours ago has gone unanswered.

You typed and erased it at least ten times, agonized over what to say, and how to say it. By the time you pressed send, the message was nothing like how it began and you noticed a second too late that you didn't even tell him who you were. Adding a second text saying 'it's y/n btw' seemed so desperate. You've been waiting for him to ask who you are for so long that you've convinced yourself he already knows and he's avoiding you on purpose. Who else would have said "i'm excited to see you tomorrow" in a text about meeting up to study? He knows it's you. He has to. The alternative possibility that he plans to see other people tomorrow too is too bothersome to accept. You really need to let this go and try to sleep.

Keys in the door stop you from dragging yourself off the couch. Your roommate will see you and accuse you of trying to run away from him to avoid something. He’s right, of course. You’ve attempted to flee from your problems in the past, against his advice. Now you know better than to try. It's much better to face things with Yoongi head on. At the very least, maybe he's got something helpful to say.

"Why're you up? You look sad." His words slur just the tiniest bit and he leans against the wall for stability as he takes off his shoes just inside the door. You see right through his attempts at nonchalance. He's tipsy.

"A boy I like isn't texting me back," you admit with a scowl. "You didn't drive, did you?"

"No, friend dropped me off. Is it Taehyung?" Yoongi asks, not pausing for an answer. "I wouldn't worry too much. He talked about you a lot tonight. He was really drunk though. You should go to bed. He'll probably text you in the morning."

You don't bother to correct Yoongi. Admitting you're harboring a huge fucking crush on the campus it-boy is the most foolish thing you could possibly do. It's embarrassing and naive and Yoongi would pity you for falling for someone so far out of your league. Maybe you should just date Taehyung and forget about Jimin. He sure seems to have forgotten about you.

When the morning comes and your only notifications are an email from Target and a text from your mom, you muster up every bit of courage you could possibly find in your body and call him. You’d rather know if he’s deliberately ignoring you now than agonize over other possibilities all day.

It doesn't even ring. His phone goes straight to voicemail. You try again, and a third time. Voicemail, voicemail. Could it be you rushed putting his number in and did it incorrectly? You dig through your backpack for the slip of paper he gave you to double check, and sure enough, it’s his number. He's ignoring you. He turned off his phone to solidify that fact in your brain.

Last night, laying awake waiting for his name to light up your phone, you felt pretty damn bad. In the daylight, with rest and a clear head, you're absolutely crushed. He was supposed to come over. You had plans. It was stupid of you to think you could earn space in his mind or time in his schedule. He played you, and it hurts.

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

Studying on your own proves more difficult than you imagined. With only Tae's notes to go by, you feel like you're quizzing yourself on things you already know. Turning to the textbook doesn't give you the specialized knowledge you need for the exam. You could never hope to memorize enough of it that you'd retain something pertinent.

On top of that, your heart hurts. You were so close to spending time together you could practically smell the subtle scent of his cologne. He pulled the rug right out from under you so fast, your ass is sore from falling on it so hard.

Sunday and Monday pass miserably in their slowness as you continue to nurse your tender rejected heart. You spend two days mulling over how you're going to face Jimin on Tuesday, let alone how you’re going to pass this exam when you're so disgustingly focused on figuring out why he stood you up and ignored you all weekend.

Tuesday comes too soon and you find yourself lingering outside the lecture hall for way longer than any sane person should.

That's what bothers you the most about this whole thing with Jimin. He's stolen your sense. How on earth did you let a stupid crush, on a boy you hardly know, get between you and your grades? You tell yourself no more as you suck in a deep breath and steel yourself to march right through the door. You're not going to let Park Jimin and his cruelty stand between you and your credits.

With your resolve solid and your head held high, you push yourself forward. You don't even spare a glance in his general direction as you pass, although it would be a lie to say you didn't clock him in your peripheral. Tae sits down next to you a moment later and you thank your lucky stars you have a friend here to make you look busy.

"Ready to make this exam your bitch?" he asks, making finger guns at you and clicking his tongue.

"That remains to be seen," you say, turning toward him in your seat so that Jimin is behind you. "I couldn't get anything done this weekend," you confess. "I thought I was more prepared than I am so it really just depends on what's on the exam."

"Aw fuck, you could have called me," he says, passing you his note cards. "We could have studied together."

"Oh, Tae," you sigh, pushing his hand back and refusing his offer of notes. "You should use this time for yourself. It wouldn't be fair of me to take it from you."

"We've got ten minutes." He points to the clock at the front of the lecture hall. "Quiz me. It will help us both."

Ten minutes fly by as you do your absolute best to retain any of the information in Taehyung's carefully written cards. You take one last glance at it before someone slips it from your hand and replaces it with a test. You know it's Jimin.

Only when you look up and level him with a glare does it seem to register on his face that you're angry. Realization dawns on him as you snatch the test and lean over it on your desk.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry," he quietly whispers, but he's moving on already. The exam is about to begin. He doesn't have time to explain himself right now. He knows what it looks like. He led you on and stood you up without so much as a text message. He should have asked Tae to tell you what happened, but the truth is that he forgot about you entirely and he knows that is the cruelest thing he could possibly confess.

Nearly an hour later you set your pencil down and run your fingers through your hair. Did any of those answers make sense? Your only possible saving grace is bullshitting your way through the open responses. Maybe you’ll earn some partial credit at the very least.

You swallow the petty words threatening to spill from your tongue as you gather your things and approach Jimin’s desk with your test in hand. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t notice the anxious glances he threw your way. You swore every time you looked up he was looking at you, so you’d squint like you were checking the time, like you had somewhere more important to be than taking an exam for a core requirement course.

As you slap the packet of your evident failure down on his desk, you don your best apathetic expression. You look down at him and allow a sliver of eye contact, just enough to send the message that you don’t care anymore. You try to look bored. He doesn’t deserve to see how he’s hurt you or angered you. He’s nothing to you. You’re nothing to him, but you’re not beneath him. He’s beneath you. You don’t just look at him; you look through him.

He blinks a few times and a chill runs down his spine. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words won’t form.

“Don’t bother. I don’t care,” you whisper with a roll of your eyes.

You make sure to straighten your shoulders and keep your chin up as you turn on your heel and leave. You bombed that exam and you know it, thanks to your stupid feelings, but at the very least you achieved the victory of shaking Park Jimin to his core. So why do you feel like you’re about to sob in the bathroom down the hall?

Oh. Because you are. You spend at least five minutes composing yourself and washing your face before your phone buzzes with a much needed distraction.

[NEW MESSAGE] Tae: hungry?

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

Jimin’s leg bounces uncontrollably under his desk while he waits for the remaining students to finish their exams so he can go after you. He wracks his brain for ways to clear the nervous tension dwelling within but it’s no use. Confrontation makes him so uncomfortable. Still, he can’t have you thinking he’s a total douche. He should text you. Fuck, he should call you. And he would, if he had a working phone. The second the last student drops their exam on his desk he’s going to find you and apologize.

He knows his reputation precedes him. He knows exactly what this looks like. You probably think he blew you off to get some or just led you on entirely, but he really did mean to meet up with you. He needs to clear the air. Maybe he’s a little loose with his morals at times, but he’s never an asshole on purpose. He prides himself on being a beacon of positivity and an example on how to make people feel good even if it’s only to make them feel good. He barely knows you, but it bothers him to think that you’re out there thinking he’s a heartless jerk and that he hurt your feelings on purpose.

It’s a big campus and Jimin spends the better half of an hour searching it before he finds you in the cafeteria with Taehyung. You look awfully close, and he almost feels bad interrupting you, but he owes you an explanation. It’s a mystery to him why on earth you would seek out his company when Taehyung seems all too willing to be what you need.

Taehyung notices him before you do. He shakes his head at Jimin disapprovingly. “Cold, man. So cold.”

Jimin nods, hanging his head. He’s well aware. You haven’t turned around yet and don’t intend to. If Jimin can ignore you then you can ignore him too. Besides, if you turn to face him, he might notice your watery, puffy eyes. How incredibly foolish that would be to admit that you’ve been crying about being stood up by someone you’ve barely even spoken to.

“Y/n?” Jimin’s soft voice calls to you, melodic and soothing as ever. “Can I have a minute?”

Taehyung looks between the two of you while he moves a french fry into his mouth at a snail’s pace and slowly chews as if this is free entertainment.

“No,” you answer.

“I’m sorry about Saturday,” he tells you, progressing despite your refusal to listen. He plants his hands on the table beside you and leans in to try to steal a glance at your profile, but you turn your head away.

“Jungkook pushed me in the pool right after this asshole,” he says, pointing at Taehyung. “My phone was in my pocket. It’s ruined.”

“Hey,” Taehyung interrupts, his mouth open in protest and full of half-chewed fries. “Don’t pin this on me. You could have asked any one of us to let her know what happened. You never even mentioned it. Why don’t you just admit that you forgot?” Taehyung suggests, jamming another french fry into his little paper cup of ketchup before cramming it into his mouth.

Jimin fumes for a moment, glaring at Tae before he pulls out the chair next to you and spins it around. He straddles it and rests his chin on the backrest. “Y/n, I’m sorry. I forgot. I swear I never would have done something like that to you on purpose. My phone getting ruined messed up a lot of things, but if you give me another chance, I’d love to prove that I’m not the horrible person you think I am.”

Silence. You glance over at Taehyung, willing him to speak up and either back Jimin up or get you out of this. You’re ready to forgive Jimin already and leave with him right now and it’s not lost on you how bad that looks. It’s so easy for Jimin to have you wrapped around his fingers. You wish he was ugly. You wish you never signed up for this stupid class. You wish you could feel for Tae the way you feel for Jimin so that you could just leave with him instead. You’re about ready to anyway when he finally opens his mouth again.

“I think you should take her out to eat. Eating out is the perfect way to apologize, don’t you think?” Tae’s grin is so wide it makes his eyes crinkle.

You huff out a humorless laugh. If that’s what you wanted you’d stick with the original plan and be in the backseat of Taehyung’s car again in the next twenty minutes. Against your better judgement, you turn to look at Jimin, puffy eyes and runny nose no longer hidden. He’s a little taken back by your expression. He smiles at you softly and reaches out to brush his knuckles against your cheek. You practically melt into his touch.

“Mmm, I would like something sweet.” Jimin licks his lips. “How about ice cream?”

“When?” you ask, embarrassed by the way your voice cracks and by how easily you’re giving in.

“Now?”

“Well, look at the time,” Tae says, standing with his tray and messenger bag. “I’ve got to go wash my hair but you two have fun on your date. Use protection!” he calls behind him on his way toward the exit.

You’d be irritated by his blunt suggestion if his statement didn’t swirl a storm of butterflies deep in your gut. You’re so distracted by them that you don’t realize that you’re still gaping at Jimin in disbelief.

“So?” Jimin wonders, holding out his hand.

“I don’t forgive you,” you insist while taking it into yours. Although it’s probably a lie, he doesn’t call you on it. He simply smiles and gives your hand a tiny comforting squeeze.

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

“My car is on the other side of campus,” you tell him once you’ve stepped outside. “Where are you parked?”

“Oh, um,” he stalls. “I thought it might be nice to walk, give us more time to talk. Is that okay?”

“Isn’t it kind of far?” you ask, assuming he's taking you to that chain ice cream shoppe a few miles off campus.

"No, this place is close. It's a secret. Not many people know about it," he says with a wink.

"You say that to everyone don't you?" You narrow your eyes at him, moving out of reach when he tries to put his arm around you.

"No," he laughs. "I've been here with other people, though. I was here with Jin last week." He smiles, leading the way toward a small alley between buildings.

You follow him easily, questioning again why you have so little self preservation when it comes to him. At the other end of the alley you can see what looks like a park. Green trees line the sidewalk up ahead, creating a canopy against the brilliant sun. The walk to this mysterious ice cream place is shaded and chilly. Jimin slips his jacket off and slings it over your shoulders when he notices you rubbing at your arms.

"Almost there," he promises. In the distance, framed by two towering oaks, is a tiny little ice cream place. It looks like a mirage, something out of a board game or a fairy tale. The closer you get, the more real it becomes. The siding is faded, the roof looks like it's in dire need of repairs, and the hand-painted sign reading The Cheery Cherry has seen better days. It's clean though, sparkling in all the places that matter.

There is a stout old man behind the window with a shining silver ice cream scoop ready and waiting in his hand. Jimin greets him by name and asks for a simple vanilla cone. You're tempted to judge him, he doesn't strike you as the vanilla type, but there must be a reason. Maybe this is the best vanilla ice cream on earth. You order the same just in case, taking your first taste as Jimin pulls a few bills from his wallet and hands them over with a shaky hand.

To your dismay the ice cream is not extraordinary; it's just plain vanilla. You could probably get the same exact type from any grocery store. You should have gone with something else. You should have at least gotten the cheery cherry cone. That might have been a flavor worth tasting. Why was he so bent on coming here for such a bland ice cream?

You suppose you should be thankful for the gesture but you still feel uneasy, like he’s playing you somehow. It almost feels like he’s doing it out of obligation rather than desire. Is he doing the bare minimum because he doesn’t feel like you’re worth more than this? Your company must be the equivalent to a plain vanilla cone. Mediocre. Unremarkable. Ordinary.

Forgettable.

Jimin turns back to you with his ice cream in one hand and change filling the other. "Is it good?"

"It's vanilla." You shrug.

"Do you want something different?" he asks, counting the money in his hand.

"No, I like vanilla."

"Figures," he teases.

"What's that supposed to mean?" you snap back at him.

"Nothing, sweetheart. I just think you're soft, sweet. Vanilla suits you."

"I am not vanilla. I do all kinds of freaky shit," you argue, realizing too late that you've over shared in your annoyance.

Jimin looks you over with a smirk, bringing his ice cream to his lips and dragging his tongue around the edge of the cone where it's dripping. "Noted," he says.

"I didn't mean-- I wasn't -- UGH," you huff, embarrassed that he's still making a fool of you from the doghouse. You need to change the subject fast. "What'syourmajor?" You rush the question past your lips and he laughs at your flustered state, waiting for you to slow down and ask him in words he can understand.

"Your major?" you repeat, slower this time.

"Oh, uh. Urban studies."

"Interesting."

"You don't know what that means, huh?" He nudges you with his elbow, falling in stride beside you. Unfortunately, you had just brought your ice cream up to your mouth and his nudging caused you to smear it across your cheek.

You look at him angrily. First he stood you up, forgot about you, then he had the nerve to show up to class today looking like a fucking angel, takes you for ice cream to make it up to you, and now he's teasing you and making you look every bit the fool you feel like you are. Tears well in your eyes when he laughs at the mess he caused.

"I'm sorry," he says through his giggling. He reaches out to gently wipe your cheek with his thumb which he promptly pops in his mouth and sucks clean after. "What's wrong?"

You swipe at your eyes, ridding them of the tears that were about to spill out as your shame bubbles over. "You make me feel stupid," you confess. "You're wasting my time."

Shoving his jacket back at him, you take off in the direction you came, throwing your stupid vanilla cone in the closest trash can and kicking yourself for not leaving with Taehyung instead. Jimin winces at the action, looking like you’ve discarded a precious keepsake rather than a plain, boring vanilla cone.

"Y/n, wait!" he calls, catching up to you with ease. He takes you by the wrist and spins you back to face him. "I don't think you're stupid at all. I’m sorry I’m so bad at this.” He sighs, softening his hold on you. “I didn’t know what to think about you when you approached me at first, you know? Girls throw themselves at me all the time.”

You grimace at his words and roll your eyes, snatching your wrist back with a scowl. Of course he thinks you were throwing yourself at him, but you’re sure that you weren’t. You were just being direct about your feelings. Do you really come across as such a desperate person? Maybe you should ask Yoongi for his opinion later.

“But I definitely didn’t mean to stand you up and I don’t mean to make you feel stupid at all. I think you're pretty smart, you’re cute and you’re actually bolder than I initially thought. I'd love to get to know you better. I know I'm not doing so great so far, but I can be better. Please, sit with me?" he asks, walking to a nearby park bench.

Reluctantly, you follow, although you make a point to drag your feet the whole way there. When you sit down beside him, he loops an arm around your waist and draws you closer, offering his ice cream up to you once your legs brush against his. You reach for it but he pulls it away.

"Hey," he jokes. "Just lick it. I didn't make you throw yours away."

You shake your head and lean forward to drag your tongue over what's left of his vanilla cone.

"Forgive me?" he asks. His toothy smile catches the sunlight and it genuinely hurts your eyes to keep looking.

"Okay. One more chance," you agree. "So, urban studies?"

He relaxes back against the bench, taking another lick before he offers the cone to you again. "Yeah, it's like community development and stuff. What about you, princess? What are you studying?"

You flush at the nickname, heat rising in your face and other places you'd rather not acknowledge. You're oblivious to the fact that you're having a similar effect on Jimin. The way you're licking his ice cream is making his pants feel a little tight.

"Teaching," you tell him, picking at the peeling paint on the bench.

"Little kids?"

"Yeah." You take another lick of his ice cream while he holds it, looking up halfway through.

Jimin's expression is unreadable, stunned almost. He shifts a little, crosses his legs, clears his throat.

"Kids are fun. I have a younger brother," he tells you.

"A lot younger?"

"No," he laughs. "But he's a total baby so it's basically the same.”

“Oh, does he get that from you?” you tease with a giggle.

His mouth drops open in surprise. “Hey,” he pouts. “That’s not nice.”

“I never said I was nice,” you tell him, taking another slow lick of his ice cream.

“Clearly,” he scoffs with a roll of his eyes. He drags his lip through his teeth to try to hide the smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

You manage to cram so much conversation into the next twenty minutes on this park bench, learning more about the mysterious campus celebrity than you ever thought you’d know. You hope his interest wasn't feigned, because it felt so fucking good to have his attention, to have him really listen to you and ask you about your life and your family and your hopes for the future. If you're not mistaken, you might think this was real progress.

Jimin watches you walk back toward campus with a soft smile and an unfamiliar feeling brewing inside him. You've surprised him. You're not the naive infatuated little girl he took you for. If he had a phone he'd be texting you already. He'd call you tonight, and maybe tomorrow. It's alarming to him how badly he wants another ten minutes with you. He hates that you declined his offer to walk you to your next class, but damn does he ever appreciate the view.

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

Thursday comes quickly. After your initial ice cream date, Jimin has found himself curiously seeking your attention rather than the other way around. With his phone out of commission he was hanging around the cafeteria all day yesterday in hopes of catching you. While it’s clear you don’t trust him and you haven’t forgiven him, you seem to have softened up a bit. You spent your meals together and allowed him to walk you to your classes, all while exchanging playful jabs at each other. You might forgive him for bailing if yesterday stood alone. Today is a whole different story.

Now Jimin is staring down a stack of graded exams the professor has dropped on the table at the front of the room. Students haven’t begun to trickle in yet so when the professor takes the opportunity to excuse himself, Jimin wastes no time in flipping through the pile to get a sense of the overall success of the class. When he gets to a test marked in thick red marker with an ‘F’ his stomach drops. He knows it’s yours before he even reads the name. He was hoping maybe you’d been lying about not paying attention.

He shuffles the exam back into place and straightens the pile just as the earliest student walks in. Jimin offers her a wan smile and a tiny bow of his head as a greeting. Although his stomach is still sinking and churning, he’s already thinking about ways he might be able to make it up to you.

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

Jimin finds you in the cafeteria with Taehyung again, where he has you distracted from your misery by folding and unfolding a cootie catcher in front of your face like you're in third grade and not your third year of college.

"Pick a color now, y/n," Tae urges, opening and closing the folded paper four times after you've indicated the triangle marked 'pink.' "Hmm," he ponders. "It says you need to relax."

"What is this, a fortune cookie? I thought these things were like truth or dare, or like... who I was gonna marry," you complain, flicking the craft from his hands.

Jimin picks the paper up off the floor and hands it back to Taehyung. "Do me," he says.

After a moment of pointing and folding, Tae announces, "It says you need to apologize. Again."

Jimin looks at you while Tae packs up his stuff. After dropping a kiss on the top of your head he leaves for his next class. The action makes Jimin furrow his brows and frown. A feeling too uncomfortably close to jealousy blooms in his chest. Why did that bother him so much? He's not ready to acknowledge the answer to that. Instead, he contradicts it by reminding himself that Tae is one of his closest friends and it's cool that the two of you are getting close too.

"Princess?" Jimin's song-like voice drifts to your ears once Tae has disappeared. You've pressed your face into your folded arms on the table and it's taking everything you have not to start crying about your failed exam again. "I'm so sorry," he whispers, laying his hand against the small of your back and beginning to rub soft circles there. "I'm sorry I didn't help you."

"I wish you were ugly," you mumble into your arms.

"What?" he laughs, leaning his face down next to yours.

You lift your head to meet his eyes. "If you were ugly this never would have happened," you insist, sitting up and shaking his hand off your back with a twist of your spine. "Just be ugly! FUCK."

Jimin smiles before screwing his face up into the most unrecognizable grimace he can manage. He holds it until you start to smile then switches to another terrible expression, with his chin tucked into his neck so that it morphs into several chins and crosses his eyes for extra emphasis on its ridiculousness. When you start to laugh he sticks out his tongue to make it worse.

Once you’re clutching your stomach and doubled over with pealing laughter, he gives you the beautiful smile you're so used to again. "Let's do something fun together," he offers. "And then after that, we'll get studying and make this right. Please let me make it up to you."

"Okay," you agree, leaning into his open arms. It only took a couple days of spending time together to remove the awkwardness you felt when he touched you. He's even held your hand a few times while you walked together after your other classes. Now, his embrace feels welcome and comforting. You still can’t tell if he’s just trying to be nice or if he actually likes doing it but you don’t mind at all.

"There's a party on Saturday, will you come with me?"

"Where?" you ask, as if you have any hope of refusing him at all. You'd go anywhere with him and you know it but you want to try to play it cool. Your tone seems more tepid than you anticipate but he doesn’t seem to call you out on it.

"Jin's," he tells you, reaching for your hand and lacing your fingers together.

He rubs his thumb against the back of your hand while he waits for you to pretend to decide. You relish in the motion. The tingle of butterflies erupt in your belly again like a cannon aimed at your heart, ready to sink it in an instant. Instead of falling, your heart seems to fly up to your brain and a light giggle escapes your lips.

"Okay. I'll come," you say in a euphoric brain fog, looking down at your joined hands. It's scary how good it feels to have his attention like this, but you hope it doesn’t stop.

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

"Why are you home?" Yoongi asks, finding you on the couch when he emerges from his bedroom. His late afternoon nap went longer than expected, leaving you believing he was out for the night. You settled in with Netflix and snacks of your own. He flops down next to you, causing you to swing your feet off the couch before they get squashed beneath his butt. He yawns and lets his head dip forward as he pulls out his phone and begins flipping through it.

"It's Friday night,” he reminds you, his tone scratchy. It makes you giggle.

"I didn't wanna go out alone and I thought you were gone. You're gonna be up all night now, you know."

"I would have stayed asleep but I've got a friend in need," he mumbles, rubbing the remainder of sleep from his eyes.

"Aww, you're so good to me." You beam, snuggling up to him and wrapping him up in a tight hug.

"Not you," he huffs with a disgusted grimace. “Ugh, that’s enough touching.”

You immediately pull back and scoff. “Wow. You’re lucky I know you know you love me.”

He rolls his eyes. "That’s debatable.”

“Yeah, okay,” you mock him in a tone of disbelief. You pop a chip into your mouth. “So why are you really up— if not to support your wonderful, beautiful, perfectly sculpted local couch potato?”

He smiles and steals the next chip from your hand before you can shove it into your mouth. “If you're good with it, my friend is gonna crash on our couch for a few days. His parents cut him off and he’s got nowhere to go. He’s almost got enough saved up to get his own place, but he could use some help in the meantime. Figured we’re doing alright and we have a couch. You cool with that?"

"Sure," you agree, trusting Yoongi's judgment. He's not gonna let some crazy person stay on your couch. "When?"

"I was just waiting for your approval but I hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to you before I passed out. I'll go pick him up now, if that's good with you," he says slipping his feet into a pair of sandals and looking for his keys.

"What, he doesn't have a car?"

"Sold it to pay for his books this semester. He's got nothing. He's keeping all his clothes in another friend's closet. It's kinda sad."

"That's rough," you agree, blowing out a heavy exhale and turning your attention back to the TV.

"I'll be back in a few. Maybe take it to your room so he can have the couch?" Yoongi suggests.

"Sure, sure," you say, already sucked back into your show and forgetting entirely about Yoongi and his friend for now.

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

When Yoongi returns an hour later, you haven't moved. In fact, you’ve crashed… hard. Yoongi and his mystery guest enter to a chorus of your snores and the Friends theme song.

“Hey, get up,” Yoongi urges, nudging your shoulder lightly.

When you peel your eyes open to look at him, you’re utterly mystified to see the object of your affections a few feet behind him, standing awkwardly in your kitchen with a duffle slung over his shoulder.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you blink a few times to clear your vision. You want to be sure it's him before you open your mouth. He's there, in black sweats with a grey hoodie pulled up over his white baseball cap. “Jimin?”

“Oh good you know him," Yoongi says with relief coating his tone. "I’m gonna get him some blankets. Think you can take your Netflix marathon to your room?”

"Yeah, I can do that," you mumble, gathering up your mess and disappearing into your room without another word.

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

Alone in your room, you conjure up a hundred reasons in your anxious mind that could explain why Jimin thought he had to keep this huge secret from you. He’s got nothing? Maybe he was afraid you'd tell people. Suddenly, it makes so much sense why he's always walking everywhere.

You think back to Tuesday at the Cheery Cherry. His usually steady hands were so shaky handing over those bills he pulled from his wallet. You think of how tightly he clutched his change and even counted it out afterward. If you hadn’t been so preoccupied with your own thoughts of inadequacy, you might have been able to put it together on your own. Your stomach drops when you recall the insulting way you threw your vanilla cone in the trash. The scene replays over and over again until you’re crying into your pillow.

Guilt keeps you awake until well past midnight as you turn these unsavory ideas over and over in your head, looking at them from every possible angle and over analyzing every detail of the time you've spent together thus far. Your eyes are now wide and dry, fixed on a black spot on your ceiling that you're hoping is just a speck and not a spider. The quilt in your hands is frayed, giving your nervous hands something to pick at while you let the silence drive you mad.

The soft knock on your door at half past one is a relief. Yoongi does his best cooking at odd hours, usually bringing you a plate if you're awake. It's a surprise to find Jimin outside your door instead. He awkwardly shifts from foot to foot until he finds your eyes in the dim glow of your table lamp.

"Did I wake you?" he whispers, head leaning against your door frame.

You shake your head, looking down at your skimpy sleep shorts and the university hoodie you pulled on to open the door. “I was up.”

“Can we talk?”

“Of course,” you answer, stepping aside so he can come in. Your eyes scan the room nervously, checking for underwear on the floor and counting the half empty glasses of water on your nightstand. If you knew Jimin was going to be in your bedroom tonight, you would have cleaned up. At least you didn’t leave your vibrator out in the open. You don’t think you’d recover from the embarrassment of that.

Jimin follows you to your bed, perching on the edge once you’ve settled back against your pillows.

“I feel like I owe you an explanation.”

“You don’t,” you respond immediately. “I’m happy you’re here.”

“Then why did you run away?” he asks, pulling at his hoodie strings.

“I wanted to give you space. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. You didn’t tell me what you were going through and I didn’t want to…” you trail off, unsure how to articulate just why you ran away.

“You didn’t want to embarrass me? Hurt my pride?” he asks, sarcasm evident.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him. “You don’t owe me an explanation. We aren’t that close.”

“That’s the problem,” he whispers. “I want to explain. I want to be that close to you.” He leans towards you, resting on his hands. He looks confident despite his current situation and it worries you a little. How can he be so sure of himself when he’s crashing on your couch and apologizing to you again for the fourth time in less than a week?

The Jimin you’ve gotten to know recently seems to disappear, leaving on the smooth talking playboy in his wake. He seems too calculated to be genuine. The words he whispers don’t seem like words meant for you. He is him, after all, and money or not he’s still the greatest catch on campus. And you, much to your dismay, are still just you. Unassuming, uninteresting, unexciting you. You’re the plain vanilla cone he’d never ask for if he had the means to get the banana split.

“Why?” you skeptically ask, pulling your knees up to your chest.

Jimin bites his bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth while he thinks. “You’re special,” he says. “You’re cute and funny and I like spending time with you. You make me feel like I can be myself with you.”

“But you don’t trust me?” you ask, obviously referring to the elephant in the room. He didn’t tell you he was essentially homeless. How much of himself can he truly be if he was keeping that from you?

“I didn’t want to scare you away, and most girls I… see, don’t get close enough to find out,” he confesses. “I can’t afford to take anyone out right now. I haven’t been able to for a while. But I’m so close to getting enough for an apartment. That’s why I took the TA job; at the end of the semester I should be ready.”

“Jimin,” you start, unsure what to say. You’re still thinking about that goddamned three dollar ice cream cone you threw away.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he tells you, standing up. “I just wanted to be real with you, and thank you for agreeing to let me have the couch for a few days. I’ll let you sleep.”

“Wait!”

As you scramble over yourself to reach out, you find yourself on your knees awkwardly clutching your hand towards your chest. You’re still worried about seeming desperate but you can’t let that stop you now. Jimin turns toward you, but you’re unsure of what you wanted to say. You only know that you want to be closer to him too, that you’re not ready for him to go, that if he leaves now you’ll lie awake for the rest of the night reliving this short conversation.

“Stay,” you plead, nervously twirling the string of your hoodie around your fingers as you sit back against the pillows. “Talk to me?”

“Aren’t you tired?” he wonders.

You hold out your hand and he crosses the room to take it, standing next to your bed. You pat the space next to you and tug him toward it. “Wide awake.”

Your yawn says otherwise.

Jimin smiles, climbing over you to lay by your side on top of your blankets. He looks at you expectantly once he’s settled but it’s too much pressure for you to lead the conversation. You only know that you want to keep hearing his soothing voice. You have no idea what you wanted to say.

“You look cute,” he says, breaking the silence and touching your nose with the tip of his finger. “Sleepy and soft.”

“You look sexy,” you complain, waving his hand away. “I kinda wanna punch you for it.”

He throws his head back in laughter. “So feisty.”

“I can be boring instead,” you jokingly offer, rolling on your side to face him.

He does his best to keep his eyes trained on your face, despite the fact that all he wants to do is let them wander down. “I just want you to be you.”

That sounds fake. Again, you battle against the idea that this is all a farce, some sneaky way to get into your pants once and leave you wanting for the rest of your life. He hasn’t bared himself to you enough for you to trust him, so you pry.

“Why’d your parents cut you off, Jimin?” you ask.

He looks at you for a second, stunned at your boldness. That’s definitely not where he thought this conversation was going. He takes a moment to prepare his response and sighs.

“They have this restaurant. It’s a small place right off the coast: Jeongsik. My great grandparents started it from nothing and now my parents manage it. They want me to take over since I’m the eldest, but I want to move to the city and have my own life. I don’t want to work in their restaurant forever and my brother loves it and is perfectly capable. They love me. I know they’re just trying to teach me a lesson,” he tells you. He sounds unsure of that last bit. It probably has a lot to do with the fact that he’s got nowhere to live and he’s penny pinching for meals and they’re shunning him.

“And what is that lesson, Jimin?” you ask, trying to dig deeper before he slips back into playboy mode.

“That being a part of Jeongsik is my only option if I want to be successful. That I can’t make it without them.”

“Can you?” The question is quiet and unassuming. You only want to know how bad it really is.

He takes a deep breath and taps his fingers anxiously against the fabric of the pillow. “I can. It won’t be the same, it won’t be easy, but I can.”

After giving Jimin a moment to say more, which he doesn’t take, you push him further. With your heart on the line and this miracle of an opportunity with him in your room, you're determined to learn as much as you can. You need to get under his skin. You need to know him, so you can know if you should run.

"What's your plan then?" you question, shifting closer so you're face to face against the pillows.

Jimin smirks at your line of questioning. It seems to break him from his thoughts. “Well,” he begins. “The Village has some one bedrooms opening up at the end of the semester, and by then I’ll be ready to make a deposit and lease one. After that I’ve got one semester left until I graduate. Then I’ll move to the city and live my life how I want.”

“Won’t you miss your family?”

“They still talk to me. They’re just not paying for school. Or my car. Or my food.” His heavy sigh at the end contradicts the lightness with which he revealed all of this to you.

“I’m sorry, Jimin.” You reach for his hand, familiarity in the way it fits with yours.

“It’s okay. I have good friends, and I have…” he trails off, catching himself and looking away with an awkward huff of a laugh.

“What?” you wonder, heart fluttering at the possibility that he was about to say ‘you.’ “What else do you have?”

Jimin looks up at you, rising up on his elbow. His eyes search your face for any hint of rejection. When he finds only hope, his hand moves to cup your cheek. It’s warm, adorned with rings that contrast the temperature of his skin.

“You,” he breathes, moving closer. You watch his gaze dart down to your lips before your own eyelids flutter closed. “I was going to say you,” he confesses before he closes the space between you and lays a soft kiss against your waiting lips.

He pulls away way too fast, leaving you to panic in the aftermath. You thought you had feelings for him before, but now that he’s let you in, now that he has shown you his heart, there is nothing more to deny. You’ve fallen, hard. The realization makes you feel trapped, like a frantic dying bird in a cage. But your captor is kind and beautiful and the flavor he left on your lips is the most divine thing you’ve ever tasted.

“Then say it,” you prompt him, urging him to accept the affection you’ve been so desperate to give him.

He kisses you again in lieu of words, longer, deeper, until his tongue is dragging over yours. You fist the material of his hoodie in your hands, pulling him towards you while you turn on your back. He’s hesitant to get on top of you, afraid he might be taking it too far, but you’re insistent. You pull and he caves willingly, slotting a leg between yours and letting his hand drift from your cheek to the back of your neck.

“I like you,” he pants when he breaks away. It feels like your heart flies up out of your chest and does a lap around the room, flapping its hummingbird wings like the wild thing it is before it crashes back into its place.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” you plead. “You don’t have to pretend just because you’re here now. I’m a big girl. We can just have tonight.”

You say the words but you know if he leaves tomorrow, you’ll cry all day and probably the day after that too. The truth is, you can talk all you want about how you can do this no strings attached, but you know you can’t. Your strings are so attached to him at this point you might as well be metaphorical shibari.

“I mean it,” he whispers, full, wet lips brushing the side of your neck.

You freeze. You were expecting him to drop the charade and just fuck you or something, but in this moment he exudes tenderness and consideration.

“And because I like you, I think I should go back to the couch before we do something we aren’t ready to do.”

“Stay,” you plead. “We don’t have to do anything, just lay with me.”

He slowly nods and reaches over you to turn off the lamp, planting a soft kiss on your cheek as he settles back into place. You wiggle your form down into the covers and he smoothes the hair from your face before tracing his fingers down your arm. You lean in close enough to smell the subtle clean scent of his cologne. Is it cologne? You doubt it knowing what you know now, unless he’s borrowing it from someone else. You still find yourself enjoying it nonetheless. It’s comforting. Sleep begins to claim you just as he slips his fingers into yours and gives you a tiny squeeze.

“Goodnight y/n.”

You think you respond but you’re in that purgatory state between sleeping and being awake, so you can’t be sure. At least you’re eighty percent sure you gave him a squeeze in return.

That’s how Yoongi finds you in the morning: you tucked neatly into your comforter and Jimin laying on top of it beside you, your hands clasped together in the middle.

“UM!” Yoongi shouts from the doorway, loud enough to wake you both.

Startled, you sit up in bed and look around for the source of the shout. “Fuck! Yoon. You didn’t need to scream.”

“I hope you’re not expecting me to keep this from Taehyung,” Yoongi chides, looking from you to Jimin and back. “That would be quite the moral conundrum.”

“For fuck’s sake. It was never Tae. I am not seeing Tae. We are JUST FRIENDS!” You yell the last two words and chuck your pillow at him for emphasis.

“Okay cool, then Jimin can explain to him whatever this is to him. Jimin, he wants you to call him. My phone’s on the table. I’m taking a shower.”

Yoongi disappears from the doorway and an uncomfortable silence settles over the room. In the light of day, you feel nervous and uncertain. Jimin does nothing to ease your anxiety. He just lays there quietly, unsure what to say.

“Do you want breakfast?” You try to smile and sound as chipper as possible.

He sits up finally and turns his back to you. “I should go see Taehyung.”

He moves toward the door and you feel your chest tighten. “Jimin?”

He turns to you from the hallway, and taking in your confused expression, offers you a smile. “We’re good, princess. I’ll be back tonight, then me and you: party time.” He winks before moving out of sight.

Alone once again, you start to question things. Everything. Are you imagining things or did Jimin seem cold when he left? He kissed you last night, didn’t he? Was everything you talked about too much? Does he regret kissing you? Does he regret staying the night with you without getting anything out of it? You can feel your thoughts spiraling out of control, but you can’t stop yourself from putting up the walls you so desperately wanted to keep down forever last night. It obviously didn’t mean anything to him, despite his claim that he likes you. He probably just meant that he’d like to fool around with you. Like he does with everyone else. You can’t let one night beside him make you think you’re special to him, no matter how badly you want to be.

Knowing you won’t make it through the day without driving yourself completely mad with questions and doubts, you dig your old phone and charger out of a drawer and go after Jimin. He’s leaning over the kitchen counter staring down at Yoongi’s phone when you steal his attention.

“Please take this,” you plead, thrusting the phone and charger towards him.

He looks from the device to you and blinks a few times in surprise. “What?”

“It’s a little old, but if your sim card didn’t get damaged I’m sure it will work in this. I kept putting off bringing it to be recycled.” You laugh nervously as you try to place it in his hand. “But now I’m glad I didn’t. Take it.”

“I can’t accept this, princess. It’s too much,” Jimin says, staring down at the object in your hands.

“Take it for me. If I have to go another day without being able to send you memes I’ll die.”

“Memes?” he repeats, sounding baffled.

“Memes, nudes, the weather forecast. Who cares? I wanna text you. Please take it.”

He licks his lips and smirks at your joke. Was it a joke? It’s hard to tell. He accepts it anyway. “Thank you. I’ll call you later?”

“You’d better,” you tease, offering the grandest smile you can manage before retreating with a slow saunter back to your room.

There’s that view again. He could watch your ass sway in those teeny shorts all day. It takes every last ounce of self control he possesses to pick up Yoongi’s phone and dial Tae rather than sprint back into your room and pin you to the bed. It doesn’t stop him from daydreaming about it though, even as his friend answers.

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

“What are we doing?” Jimin stands in the sprawling living room of Taehyung and Jungkook’s shared apartment. Both are from wealthy families that are all too ready to give their sons everything that matches the silver spoons in their mouths. They’ve been blessed with a bachelor pad that looks more like a college movie set than anything normal one would find around campus.

“Pick up a controller,” Tae tells Jimin, completely absorbed in the race on their oversized flat screen TV.

Jungkook hasn’t even acknowledged Jimin’s presence yet. Focused doesn’t even begin to describe the way his eyes bore into the television. He doesn’t break from his trance until he wins. Only then does he sit back with a smug grin, dropping the controller in his lap and just barely resisting the urge to gloat.

Taehyung drops his controller too, turning to give Jungkook a congratulatory fist bump. “Take his place,” he says to Jimin.

Jungkook has already vacated his place on the hallowed futon and moved to the row of cup noodles sitting on the counter. The first cup is half empty before Jimin even sits down.

“I suck at these games, Tae,” Jimin grumbles.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to be good. It’s a ploy to get you relaxed enough to talk about y/n.” Taehyung smiles, knowing Jimin can’t refuse now that he’s cornered.

“What about her?” He feigns nonchalance, as if he didn’t just spend last night catching feelings along with your lips between his own.

Taehyung scoffs, half bewildered, half disgusted. “Come on, Jimin. She’s amazing. You like her.”

“I barely know her,” Jimin replies. It’s a lie he can taste like copper on his tongue. He knows your favorite food, where you grew up, what you study, and he’s already programmed your birthday into his borrowed phone so he won’t forget.

Taehyung clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes. “Okay then. If you don’t give a fuck, I’m gonna shoot my shot. She’s funny, and nice, and her pussy is so bomb it makes me wanna get married, so if you’re not gonna do something about that then I will.”

Jungkook cackles from the kitchen. “Did you fuck Jimin’s girl?”

“She’s not my girl,” Jimin grumbles, staring daggers at Jungkook, just as Taehyung says that he did not.

Jungkook takes his armload of cup noodles into his bedroom.

“I know you like her,” Tae prods. “She’s not some materialistic bitch who’s gonna leave you if you can’t afford lavish dates every other day. She’s a good, genuine person. She just wants your time and your attention. Maybe your heart. She doesn’t care about the other stuff.”

“Yeah? So I can bring her back to this futon after I buy her dinner from the dollar menu?” Jimin’s nose starts to tingle, months worth of frustrations finally reaching a breaking point. “I can’t get in a relationship right now and you know she’s not a fuckbuddy kind of girl.

“Right, because I didn’t eat her out in my car for fun last week.” He’d date you in a heartbeat if you wanted him. But he knows it’s Jimin you want and he’s more than happy to push the two of you together to see you both happy. He values friendship above all things.

“If that’s all you want from her, fine. But I think you and I both know it’s not and she’s too good for you to string along. If you’re just gonna break her heart, do it now before she falls any harder for you.”

“Why, so you can swoop in and be the good guy again? So you can get her off in your backseat?” The words are venom dripping from his mouth.

“Bro.”

Jimin softens. Tae is his dearest friend. He knows he only has his best interests at heart.

“I’m sorry.” He pauses and sighs. “We talked about Jeongsik last night. She knows my parents cut me off.”

Taehyung grimaces. “How’d that go?”

“Now she knows I’m not good enough but it didn’t seem to deter her at all.”

“‘Cause you are good enough and now she can see your true worth as a person, which is a thousand times better than the fake worth of money.”

Jimin seems to consider this for a moment but then expresses the concern gnawing at his insides. “What if she really is just another person who wants to idolize me? I’m really into her, but I need it to be more than that.”

“Jimin—”

“What if she’s after the meaningless title of being Park Jimin’s girl... like every other girl that has pursued me lately?” The words make him cringe. He’s humble and kind, not one to throw bouquets at himself, but those thoughts are intrusive and hard to ignore.

“Tch. Do you know her at all? Do you really think that matters to her?”

“No,” Jimin sighs. “But what if?”

“She admires you. You like her. Stop making it so complicated and let go of those ifs. You’ll never know if you don’t try and I want to see you try because you deserve to be happy,” Tae insists, starting a new game. “Now pick up that controller. I wanna kick your ass.”

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

You’ve spent the better part of your Saturday afternoon picking out your outfit for tonight. Yoongi only teased you twice before helping you select something a little bit more slutty than you’d normally pull out for a date. You’re going to a party after all, not some Sunday brunch with your friends.

When it’s almost time for you to meet up with Jimin you find yourself growing increasingly nervous. You run your hand over your thigh and down your calf, testing for any stubble you might have missed in your meticulous hour-long shaving session. On your way back up you tug on your skirt, eyeing it as though your gaze can simply increase its length. When was the last time you wore this dress?

You adjust and fuss over the way your tits fit inside the garment and puff air out of your cheeks. Yoongi squints at you from across the room. Your door is wide open after all.

“Stop worrying so much.” He sighs and clicks his tongue, crossing the room until he can see you in perfect clarity. “You look great.”

“I feel stupid. I should change. Jimin’s gonna think I’m weird if I wear this.” You try to turn and run back to your closet.

Yoongi plants his hands on your shoulders and spins you back to face the full-length mirror hanging over your door. “Look at yourself. Jimin’s gonna think you’re the hottest one at the party. Look at that makeup game.” He gestures to your face. “Wooo! So strong! Wow!”

Your lips twitch into a smile. Yoongi can be so sweet when he’s not busy pretending like he isn’t the softest man on earth.

“What if he doesn’t actually want me?” you ask, strings of doubt still plucking at your insecurity.

“He does,” he says with all the comfort you need in this moment. “I can tell with these kinds of things, you know.”

“That your like, weird sage sense you’re always telling me about? Reading the horoscopes doesn’t make you a fortune teller.”

He laughs. “Don’t be jealous of my power. Have I been wrong before?”

He hasn’t been, at least not with the advice he’s given you.

You exhale a huge breath and cock your head to inspect your appearance one more time. “What if you’re wrong?”

He hums a soft sound before planting a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Then he’s an idiot.”

A knock saves him from the overbearing hug you’re about to give him. He practically sprints towards the door. “That must be him! Pull your skirt up a little, would you? You’re not a nun and it’s gonna ride up anyway.” He pauses with his hand on the deadbolt and drops his tone to a rather loud, strained whisper. “Wait. What underwear are you wearing?”

Your eyes widen and your brows furrow as you angrily march over to your strappy heels and begin to put them on. “Why does it matter?” you whisper back.

“Are they the beige ones?”

“No!” Your hushed tone threatens to break into a shriek. “You know those are my period panties.”

“Please tell me they’re not the green ones.”

“Yoongi!” You get frustrated and lift your skirt just enough to show off a bit of the black lace adorning your buttcheeks as you lift your foot onto the nearby stool to finish setting the strap in place. “Satisfied?”

He breathes a sigh of relief and nods. “Good. Those are good.”

He opens the door faster than you can register the action. Jimin catches the flash of lace and more skin than he’s meant to see as you swing your leg down off the stool and adjust your dress. Heat flushes your face as you meet Jimin’s gaze. His eyes are wide and he licks his lips before nervously clearing his throat. He nonchalantly drops his hands and holds them together in front of his pelvis.

“You-You look good,” he stammers, completely stunned by your appearance.

“Thanks,” you reply with a shy smile. Park Jimin gets flustered? Who’d have thought?

He thought you were beautiful before but he’s never seen you like this. You’re completely decked out and drop dead gorgeous. He’s almost worried he’ll feel inadequate standing next to you tonight but it doesn’t stop him from wanting you by his side, hanging on his arm. He wants everyone to know that he’s there with you.

The pair of you stand there looking at one another and Yoongi slowly turns from Jimin to you, then back to Jimin.

“Have everything?” Yoongi prods, trying to get you to move so he can get on with his evening of relaxation and lazing about.

That seems to break you from your stupor and you nod and walk forward to hook your arm around Jimin’s. Before you get too far Yoongi calls to you and tests your reflexes by tossing your keys. You’ll need those if Yoongi is dead to the world asleep by the time you get home, which is quite possible. You’re not the most dextrous person but Jimin catches them and smiles at you. When you try to take them from his fingertip he moves his hand away and you swipe at the air. He offers to keep them in his pocket and you gratefully oblige. You pull your phone from its confines against your breast and check on the status of your uber with one hand while slipping your other into Jimin’s.

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

Jin’s party is already in full swing by the time you arrive. It looks like something out of a movie. There are glowsticks, red solo cups, a buffet table of snacks, and loud music by the large inground pool. People inside and outside of this big ass frat house are grinding up on each other, dancing, and spilling their drinks on one another. It’s a little overwhelming honestly. You’ve never been much of a party person and this is a monster-sized one.

Jimin takes your hand in his and gives you a reassuring smile. “You want a drink, princess?”

“Yeah.” You grin and breathe a sigh of relief, feeling your insides melt at the sound of his voice. You know whatever happens tonight you’ll be okay with him by your side.

Jimin keeps you close all night, drinking and dancing and stealing the occasional quick kiss. It's pretty clear to everyone who's paying attention that there's something going on between you. You came with Jimin, you're there with Jimin, you're leaving with Jimin. Either Jungkook wasn't paying attention, or he just plain doesn't care. The moment Jimin leaves you alone to run to the bathroom, Jungkook steps up behind you in the chair you’re sitting on.

"Hey, y/n!" He smiles, all teeth and sleepy eyes. You can smell the whiskey on his breath when you turn to face him. "You look so pretty tonight."

"Thanks, Kook." You know he's one of Jimin and Tae’s closest friends. If you just hang with him until Jimin gets back, you'll be able to avoid the advances of all the weird guys here you aren't familiar with. "I like your boots," you tell him, looking down.

He follows your gaze to his feet. "Me too, I hope no one barfs on them tonight," he laughs, lifting his face back up to yours. The words are slightly slurred but you’re still able to decipher them.

His eyes definitely linger on your cleavage on their way back up. By the looks of it, he's on the short list of people who might end up barfing on those shoes. He holds his liquor well, but if you had to guess you'd say he's had more than he should have at this point in the night.

"So, I was talking to Taehyung recently," he starts with a mischievous glint in his eyes. The rest of his sentence seems to get lost in translation on the way to his mouth.

"And?" You smile at him and realize he’s probably too drunk to have anything of worth to say but you wait anyway.

"He told me something." Jungkook smiles so big his nose crinkles and he giggles like it’s the biggest secret in the universe.

You puzzle for a moment over what could have him so giddy before remembering that Taehyung is intimately familiar with your o-face. You'd gotten so close with him over the last two weeks that the details of your first time hanging out had completely slipped your mind. Jungkook is definitely about to say something crass.

"What did he tell you?" you ask, fearing you already know the answer.

Jungkook leans in closer so he can whisper in your ear. An amused giggle spills from his lips like he can’t contain the punchline to a joke only he knows. Somehow he gets his tone under control and finally speaks. "He told me your pussy tastes like heaven and what a coincidence," he pauses, "I haven't had dessert."

Jimin finds his way back to you just as you've moved to elbow Jungkook off your chair. Unfortunately, the alcohol in your system has your brain a little fuzzy and you misjudge the distance and location. You end up elbowing Jungkook right in the dick. Hard.

A circle clears around you as Jungkook doubles over in pain. Jimin steps up next to you, looking down at his friend and trying to piece together what might have led to you inflicting bodily harm.

Jungkook goes from bending over, to squatting, to laying on his side on the floor. He rolls onto his back still clutching the jewels despite the audience of people who have stopped to observe.

“I’m gonna throw up,” he squeaks out.

“Watch the boots,” you remind him as Jimin leans down to help him up and leads him towards something he can barf in. Through the crowd of people, you can see him just barely make it to a trash can in the kitchen. Gross.

Jimin gives Jungkook a pat on the back as he retches and reaches over him to grab a handful of jello shots off the counter. He returns with the rainbow of little cups clutched in each hand. The crowd seems to go back to their business of dancing and talking amongst one another, the random altercation just a fleeting moment in the night.

"What'd he do?" Jimin asks, holding his hand out to you so that you can make your selection.

"He came on to me." You shrug, picking a blue cup and popping the lid off.

"That's it? You elbowed him in the balls for hitting on you?" Jimin raises his eyebrows in shock and laughs.

"Well, it was kind of an accident. But," you pause to bring the plastic shot glass up to your lips, "he insinuated that he wanted to go down on me." You dip your tongue into the Jello and swirl it around the perimeter of its plastic casing.

Jimin watches you gather all the Jello up onto your tongue with rapt attention. He's growing so hard watching your tongue work like that. It’s driving him insane. He wants to feel it on him instead. He’s also now acutely aware of how badly he wants to swirl his tongue around your cunt, just like that.

"That makes two of us," he confesses with an enamored sigh. His hands are still full of Jello shots but that doesn’t stop him from holding your face between them.

He fiercely smashes his mouth to yours and you cave to the welcome intrusion of his tongue. It presses against yours, curling around it as he sucks the blue raspberry flavor from your mouth. You drop the empty cup to the floor and reach for his belt instead, pulling him against you until you can feel him pressed up against your stomach, hard and needy. He grinds his pelvis against you to be sure you can feel him.

“You feel that baby?” he asks, his tone low and sultry.

You grind back with a muffled hum. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re practically dry-humping each other next to the crowd of other sweaty, writhing couples. While Jimin likes how this feels, he’d like to regain the use of his hands. Jello shots be damned.

He pulls away for a second and looks around, depositing all but one of the unopened cups into the hands of the next person that walks by before he squeezes the chosen red one out on his tongue. He leans back in and presses his mouth to yours again. You can still taste artificial strawberry on his tongue. You're not even sure he swallowed before you started trying to lick his tonsils but you don't care. You want him now. You need him.

His thoughts are much the same as his free hand wanders down your back, dipping lower for just a second to feel the curve of your ass and squeeze. When you gasp he takes a step back and looks at you through hazy lust-drunk eyes. His lips are red from the gelatinous treat. You’d love to try and suck the color right out of them.

"Princess," he pants, his hands grabbing at your hips.

"Jimin," you breathe back, pulling him closer again. "Come home with me." It's not really an invitation. He'd be coming back with you anyway since he's currently living on your couch, but this has a different meaning and you both know it. It’s a plea for him to take you to bed.

You make out on the front lawn while you wait for the uber. You make out in the back of the uber on your way home. You make out on the way up the stairs and you leave a heart shaped love bite on his neck while he uses your keys to open the door. You make out pressed against the kitchen counter, and in the hallway.

Yoongi watches the pair of you act like he’s invisible as you stumble your way around the apartment. He has a spoonful of Fruit Loops half-lifted to his gaping mouth and finally takes his bite when you’ve made it to your room. Thank god you closed the door.

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

Jimin isn't as shy this time about laying his weight over you once you’ve dropped down onto your bed. You’re warm and he seeks the heat of your body as your hands explore the taught muscles of his chest. They dance around his belt, slipping up over the curve of his perfectly round ass so you can squeeze and pull him against you, inviting him to grind his solid cock into you. Your movements get slower and more focused when you unbutton his shirt. He tugs it off his shoulders and throws it to the floor before helping you pull that tiny excuse of a dress over your head.

You're thanking your lucky stars you had the foresight to put on a matching set, despite how foolishly hopeful it felt at the time. The way Jimin is drinking you in wrapped in nothing but a little bit of black lace is making your head spin, or maybe that's the alcohol.

He sits back on his heels beside you, trailing his fingertips from your throat to the valley between your breasts. He skims over your belly button then side sweeps over your hip and down your thigh, leaving goosebumps in the wake of his touch.

"Wanna take those heels off, princess?" he asks, scooting toward them on his knees.

"I can do it," you insist, planning on making a show of dropping what's left of your modesty. You aren't counting on the way the room turns when you stand up too fast. Luckily, Jimin's reflexes are quick and his hands on your hips steady you before you can actually fall. Standing up is also doing something terrible to your stomach. It rolls and clenches and your anxiety skyrockets.

Parties aren't really your thing, and while Jimin might be drunk he is damn good at controlling it. On the contrary, it's becoming increasingly apparent that you are completely hammered.

"You okay?" Jimin asks, concern dripping from his tone. He stands up and turns you both so you can sit on the edge of your bed.

"I think... I'm drunk," you confess, unable to explain why you suddenly feel like crying.

"I think you're right, baby," he agrees, squatting down to unbuckle the ankle straps on your heels. "Let's get you some water."

Your stomach flips again and time slows as you feel the contents of the evening rise in the back of your throat. Panicking, you look to Jimin with wide eyes and a hand flying up to your mouth. He spins around looking for anything to catch what's surely coming and upends your little trash can. Candy wrappers and old class notes fall to the floor. He thrusts the can under your face just as a rainbow of Jello shots and reappears.

"I'm so sorry," you cry between heaves, tears streaking your make-up down your face.

"Shhh," Jimin soothes, gathering your hair away from your face. When he's sure you've finished, he disappears from the bedroom with the offending trash can and you're left with your horrible, alcohol twisted thoughts.

He's going to think you're pathetic and disgusting. Why on earth did you think you could drink that much?

Jimin returns with a glass of water before you can get much further into your self-deprecation.

"You're never gonna fuck me now," you blabber, your filter lost. Your thoughts are a jumble of sadness and muddled lust.

Jimin laughs. "Well, I'm definitely not gonna fuck you like this. I didn't realize you were this drunk," he softly says. It's a caring statement, not even a little bit condescending.

You should be grateful that he wants you sober for sex, but it only makes you cry harder because you really just want him so badly and you're absolutely certain you've ruined your chances beyond repair. So, you do the only thing that makes sense right now and cry harder.

Jimin wraps his arms around you and leans close to your ear. "I want to, you know. I want to lay you down and touch you all over." He presses a soft kiss to the side of your neck. "I want to taste you, feel you. I want to be inside you so badly, but not like this."

"Please," you whine.

"Sober up first, okay?" he coaxes. "Can I help you get some pajamas? Brush your teeth?"

"Okay," you sniffle.

Jimin smooths his hand up your back, tracing the black lace band of your bra with the tip of his finger. “Do you want to take this off?”

You nod, reaching behind you to unfasten the clasp while Jimin reaches down to the floor for the button down shirt he discarded. He averts his eyes while you shed your bra, then holds his shirt open for you. You slip into it but don’t bother to button it up before walking to your door. He helps you get to the bathroom but you insist on doing it yourself so you can clean up and assess just how fucked up you really look right now.

When you close the door behind you, he makes sure to quietly apologize to Yoongi, who is still scrubbing the trash bin Jimin brought out earlier. Yoongi reaches into the cabinet for the bottle of Advil and gestures to a glass of water already on the counter.

Jimin waits for you to open the door and when you finally do he's relieved that you haven't fallen asleep. You've washed the makeup from your tear-streaked face and brushed your teeth. You've even pulled your hair back so it's no longer in the way. You look at him through a hazy apologetic lens as he offers you Advil and water. The last thing you want to do is ingest anything but if it will help you in the morning, you'll try it for his sake.

The journey from the bathroom back into your room is a blur. All you can think about is crawling back into bed and sleeping this awful feeling away. You struggle with the covers for a moment until Jimin helps you slide underneath them.

"I'm sorry. Don't hate me," you plead in a weak voice.

"Why are you sorry? I don't hate you," he assures you, sitting on the edge of the bed.

He's shirtless. He could have been naked pounding your pussy stupid if you didn't overdo it on the drinks. You hate yourself a little bit for botching this chance, but if he could just put his arms around you again maybe you’d feel okay, like you didn’t blow it.

"Will you hold me?" you ask.

“Of course,” he replies softly.

The light in the room disappears and the mattress sinks behind you. His arms wrap themselves around your waist and his fingers twine with yours.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers when you squeeze his hand.

The heat of his breath brushes against your neck but you don’t close your eyes. You’re too dizzy. Instead you focus on the soothing rhythm of his breathing until the weight of your eyelids wins out against the nausea and sleep finally claims you.

『•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••✎•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••』

Your ringtone wakes you late, when the sun in your room is far too bright to be any time before ten. The sound is grating and irritating and you pull your pillow over your head to block it out. Jimin reaches for the phone, you can feel his weight shift and the heat of his skin when he hovers over you.

"Hello?" His voice is gruff and coarse with sleep.

Peeking out from beneath the pillow, you look over to him. His eyes are still closed and your phone is laying on his bare chest, speaker on and screen lit up.

"Gimme your bae," Jungkook's voice calls through the phone.

"She's sleeping," Jimin tells him. Looking in your direction, he meets your eyes and smiles.

You vaguely remember him making you drink more water last night, giving you Advil, and tucking you in. It's a very pleasant surprise to find that you aren’t horribly hungover.

"Wake her up," Jungkook whines. "Bro. She hit me so hard."

Jimin laughs. "You deserved it."

"I know," Jungkook agrees. "That's why I'm calling. Can I talk to her please?"

"You're on speaker."

"Hi, y/n. I got your number from Tae."

"Hi Kook," you croak.

"I'm sorry I was a douche last night. I get stupid when I drink whiskey."

"I accept your apology. Don’t do it again. How's your dick?" you ask, scooting closer to Jimin and laying your cheek on his chest. He wraps his arm around you and kisses the top of your head. The gesture makes you feel warm all over. He likes you.

"It hurts but I'll live. Sorry. For real. Do you guys wanna go eat later?" he asks you both.

Jimin answers this time. "Maybe. We have stuff to do first. I'll text you." He hangs up before Jungkook can say more.

“What stuff are we doing, hmm?” you question with a giggle, trying to play coy.

“Depends how you’re feeling, princess,” Jimin replies, leaning over you again to deposit your phone on your nightstand. He lingers above you, prompting the cautious exploration of your fingers on his chest.

Suddenly, you are acutely aware of the awful taste in your mouth. In fact, you feel gross all over. Not exactly the way you want to experience sex with Jimin for the first time.

“I’m sorry about last night,” you tell him, wiggling out from under his body. “You must think I am the worst, most unattractive human.”

“No,” Jimin says with a giggle. “I think you’re sexy and sweet. I really like you y/n.”

“Nobody likes me.” You scoff at him in disbelief.

“It’s rude to call people nobodies, don’t you think? Especially when they’ve just confessed their feelings,” Jimin teases, sitting up beside you.

“Well, let me at least brush my teeth,” you tell him, holding his shirt closed around you while you rise from the bed. You step around the clean trash can that’s been placed at the side of your bed thanks to Yoongi, noting that there is also a neat row of condoms on your nightstand and a note that reads ‘be done by 5 i wanna watch Dragonball Z after work.’

You laugh and quickly take care of your morning bathroom routine in record time so you can make use of Yoongi’s gift.

When you come back to your room, Jimin is watching you. His lips are drawn down in a pout, his eyes are half closed, and his chest, still bare, rises and falls heavily with each breath he takes as he rakes his eyes over your bare legs and up. His shirt hangs open on your body, leaving a strip of skin visible from your throat to your panties. He licks his lips when your fingers drag a slow line up that strip.

Parting the soft fabric further, you let it fall from your shoulders and pool around your feet. Jimin sits up for a better view and you wait for embarrassment to strike. It never happens. Instead, his gaze emboldens you. He looks wrecked already and he hasn't even touched you yet.

“So beautiful,” he whispers.

His assurance pulls you forward, one foot in front of the other until you’re close enough to touch and his hands are on your hips as you climb over him. He leans back under you as you push forward, connecting your lips with a force that borders on overeager. You can feel him smile against your lips and self-consciously, you will yourself to calm down. You have all day, there’s no need to rush.

When your kisses become soft and patient Jimin decides to take the initiative. He has to have you. He wants to be inside you. He sits up and sinks his hands into the flesh of your ass and begins to pull you down so he can grind up against your clothed cunt. When you moan his eyes roll back for a second and he buries his face into your neck to muffle the sound of his own. His tongue works in circles against you, giving you a taste of what’s to come before sucking a spot that has you burying your hand in his hair and grinding yourself down on him with need. He licks a hot stripe to your ear so he can whisper in it. In an instant he’s flipping you around on your back and grinding his pelvis against yours, allowing the dark desire to consume him.

“You like that, princess? You like feeling my cock on that sweet pussy of yours?”

“Yeah,” you whine, circling your legs around his hips. You can’t manage much more than that breathy reply, he is intoxicating and already you are drunk on his fumes.

“I hear it’s the sweetest. Made me so fucking jealous to hear Tae talk about you like that. You’ll let me have a taste, won’t you? Let me show you how good I can make you feel?”

“God did Tae just go around telling everyone?” you pause when the friction rubs against your clit just right. “Oh fuck,” you moan, imaging the pillowy soft press of his lips on your more intimate areas.

He chuckles in response. “No,” he assures you. “Just Jungkook and me. Don’t worry,” he says, persuading you with a careful roll of his hips that has his shaft parting your folds despite the layers of clothing between you. “He won’t talk about it anymore, and you’ll forget all about it by the time we’re done here. I’m gonna eat your sweet little cunt until mine are the only lips you remember.”

“Please,” you whimper, drawing him into a needy kiss.

His fingers dip into the band of your panties and he teases and tugs at them until you’re squirming and begging him to take them off. His lips trail wet kisses down to your breasts and he pauses to take your nipple into his mouth as he carefully works your last remaining piece of clothing down your legs.

Nudging your legs apart again, he settles between them, ghosting the pads of his fingers up the inside of your thigh as he drags your nipple gently with his teeth. He switches to repeat the action on the other side and cautiously slips a finger between your folds, parting them and testing your wetness. Much to his delight, he already finds you soaked.

“Jimin,” you breathe out. “Please.”

“Be patient for me, princess. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” He sits back on his knees between your thighs and uses his thumbs to smear your arousal over your lips. He groans something deep and tortured when he spreads them open.

“Y/n, holy fuck,” he whispers. “You’re perfect. So perfect.”

Heat rises to your cheeks at his praise. It feels like some kind of worship the way he looks down at your cunt, watching his fingers disappear inside you. His satisfied hum is like a hymn to the divine way your hot, slick walls squeeze him, a prayer to the mere idea of having that wet heat wrapped around his needy cock.

“Tae didn’t tell me you were so tight,” Jimin admits, looking up at you under his eyelashes.

“He only used his mouth,” you tell him, throwing your arm over your eyes. “I’ll never forget his lips if you keep talking about him.”

That seems to spark a fire in Jimin. His eyes grow dark and wild. He wants to ruin you. He presses his lips to the inside of your thigh and begins sucking marks into the soft flesh while his fingers continue to pump inside of you. He slowly works his way down, making sure the red spots he leaves behind are sufficient enough to last for days. He makes sure you’ll have the reminder of his face between your legs every time you look down.

“Jimin don’t tease,” you beg, bucking your hips up to seek the warmth of his breath.

“I’m not teasing,” he chides. “I am savoring.” He curls his fingers and presses his thumb to your clit, making your legs jolt. “Trust the process.”

“Jimin--,” you start again, but you’re cut off by the first touch of his lips. It’s barely there, just the ghost of a kiss on your mound. It’s immediately followed by the flat of his tongue, pressing down as he moves it lower, slipping his fingers out as he descends. His tongue parts your folds instead, circling your dripping hole and then dipping inside it.

“Mmmmm,” he hums. “Fuck, you’re sweet.” He spreads you with his thumbs again and goes back for more, lapping at your wet cunt, swirling around your clit, sucking your folds into his lips. But it’s not just the action, it’s the drive behind it. He’s insatiable, moaning at the taste, bucking his hips into the mattress when you whine for him.

Your fingers tangle through his silver hair, twisting and pulling as he devotes himself to your undoing. He moves with you when you grind up against his jaw, stealing a glance up at your face. Jimin feels his cock twitch at the sight of you; breasts heaving, mouth hanging open, eyes squeezed shut. He’s leaking so much precum he can feel it soaking through his boxer-briefs. He’s almost afraid he’s going to lose it and cum in his pants.

“You gonna cum for me, princess?” he asks, lifting his face to push his fingers back inside. He pumps them hard, curling and searching for that elusive spot while he presses soft kisses to your clit. He alternates between flicking his tongue and rubbing against it with his lips, pausing every few seconds to whisper encouragements with warm breath puffed over your swollen bud.

“Come on, baby. Do it for me. Cum for me, princess. Let me taste it.”

“Please Jimin. Pleeeeease. I need you to suck it. Suck it harder,” you beg. “Right there. There! Don’t stop! Please! I’m so close.”

Jimin keeps steady for you despite your trembling thighs. He pounds your g-spot while he sucks as hard as you can take. Your mind goes totally blank, consumed by an orgasm so powerful you can see fireworks bursting behind your eyelids. Heat spreads from your core down your legs, up your spine.

“I’m cu— cumming— Jimiiiiin!” you cry, legs trapping his head like a vice. Your fingers leave his hair in favor of squeezing at your breasts as you ride out your orgasm. You buck your hips when he doesn’t let up after you’ve come down from your high.

“Take your pants off,” you pant, shoving at his head.

He finally pops off with a grin, his chin and lips covered in your slick.

“What if I’m not finished down here?” he teases, dipping his head back down to lick a stripe up your slit. Your whole body jumps when he touches your clit with the tip of his tongue. “Oh?” he feigns shock. “Sensitive?” he smugly asks, going back for one more taste.

“I wanna suck your cock,” you tell him, lazily pulling your legs up and turning your body away from him. You keep your eyes on him as you turn just enough to hang your head off the edge of the bed.

“Are you for real right now?” he asks, standing slowly. The tent in his pants is obscene.

“Please, Jimin. Just a little bit?”

“You’re gonna fucking kill me,” he sighs, tugging the zipper down on his jeans and letting them and his underwear fall to his ankles. He kicks them off and steps in front of you, smiling down at your upside down face, a little dumbfounded to have you wanting and willing to have him like this.

Your mouth waters at the sight of the swollen mauve tip standing at attention. He’s rock hard and so thick you’re not sure you can take him in your mouth, or your cunt for that matter. You’re glad he warmed you up with his fingers because you’re already clenching tight at the thought of that thick cock splitting you in two.

He reaches for the row of condoms as you take him in your hand and give him a few pumps. Just as he rips off one of the packets, you guide him towards the entrance of your mouth. You swirl your tongue against the tip and he drops everything, focusing on the way you tease him instead.

He inhales sharply. “Fuck. Who’s the tease now?”

You run your tongue along his shaft and smile when you get to the tip, giving it a quick kiss. “I’m savoring. What happened to trusting the process?”

He drags his lip through his teeth and clenches his jaw as you put his patience to the test but lucky for him you’re kind. He doesn’t have to wait long. You close your lips around him a moment later, reaching around his hips to guide him deeper, controlling the depth of his thrusts until he learns your limits and leans over you. With his hands on your breasts he rolls his hips. He can feel the tip of his cock bumping the back of your throat. He moans when you gag around him.

“That’s it, princess. Suck it. Just like that,” he praises.

Jimin is careful with his pace, and tender with his touch when he twists your nipples. He thinks he’s in control. He thinks he can take this just fine, despite the fact that your mouth feels fucking incredible. It’s when he watches you part your thighs and slip your hand between them to finger yourself while he fucks your mouth that he realizes he’s got none of the control he was so certain of. His balls tighten and he pulls out quickly and squeezes them, pinching at the tip of his cock and leaving you gasping for the breath you couldn’t catch with him in your mouth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. I need a second,” he huffs, eyes closed, standing perfectly still. He breathes slowly and deeply. If you could peek into his brain you’re sure you’d see any number of boring things trying to distract him from the image of you fucking yourself with your fingers while you sucked his cock. It’s futile. He’s certain he’ll see it in his dreams.

“Did I do something wrong?” you wonder, shuffling around so that you’re laying back on your pillows.

Jimin ignores your question. He knows you’re well aware he almost came in your mouth. “I need to be inside you like, now,” he says, picking up the condom again.

You watch him tear it open and roll it on with his one knee pressed into the mattress and his other foot on the floor.

"Come on then," you coax, opening your legs for him to crawl between.

He pushes two fingers inside you on his way up, dragging them out slowly and smearing your wetness around your pussy before he lines his cock up and sinks in to the hilt in one smooth press.

You gasp as he fills you, feeling the stretch of his girth, and he hushes your whimpering and brushes his nose against yours. "I'm sorry baby," he soothes. "I'll go slow." He seals the promise with a kiss before hiking your legs up high around his waist and wrapping his arms around you.

He lies still like this, waiting for the green light while he kisses you breathless. He moves to your neck when you break away to inhale, sucking more little bruises in the skin there. "Tell me when."

"Move," you moan. "Move. Fuck me."

Jimin pulls out slowly, leaving just the tip inside. He pushes back in just as slow, repeating the action several times until it looks like you're about to cry.

You need it so badly. It feels cruel to have him rocking so gently inside you when all you want is to be ruined by him. "Harder," you plead.

"Are you sure?"

"Don't make me beg," you whine.

"What if I want you to beg?" he jokes, dropping his hips against you. It's almost hard enough to satisfy you.

"Then I'll beg."

Jimin groans, dropping his head to your shoulder as he sets a brutal pace. He pounds into you, forcing the air from your lungs with his powerful thrusts, rolling his hips like his life depends on it. "You're so fucking good for me, princess. So tight. Feels so fucking good."

"Go faster," you tell him, grabbing a handful of his ass.

Shifting higher on his knees, he picks up the pace. Sweat beads on his forehead and over his lip. It beads in the dip of his cupid's bow and you lick it away before raking his bottom lip through your teeth.

“You feel my fat cock baby?" he asks. You moan in response pulling your legs higher so he can fuck you even deeper. "You like the way I fill you, don't you? Want me to fuck you full of my cum? Take it," he grunts. "You take it so fucking well. You gonna cum for me again, baby?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, rocking your hips to meet his thrusts.

Jimin pulls out when you start to clench, not quite edging you but stealing the pleasure you were high on nonetheless. You whine at the loss of him, walls fluttering wildly around nothing.

"Can we try something?" he asks, lifting your legs and putting them to the side.

"What did you have in mind?" you wonder. You reach for his cock but he's already moving, nudging at your hips until you turn.

"Up on your knees for me, princess," he instructs. He kneels behind you once you're in position and smooths his hand up your spine, guiding you gently down onto your elbows. “Is this okay?”

“It’s good,” you assure him, wiggling your hips a little to get him moving again.

He teases your slit with the tip of his cock, dragging it through your folds and rubbing it against your clit. Finally, he pushes back inside you, coaxing a fresh wave of arousal with the stretch of his girth. It’s deeper like this and impossibly you feel even more full than you did before.

“Oh, Jimin,” you sigh, dropping your face into your folded arms. “Jimin.”

“Good?” He folds himself over you, pressing his chest to your back and sliding his hands from your hips to your breasts.

You thrust yourself back into him as you answer. “Perfect. You?”

It takes him by surprise but he follows your lead. He drives himself into your cunt while massaging your breasts and kissing your back. “Fuck, y/n…” he moans, letting his teeth drag over your shoulder before he bites down.

You hiss at the sting and he soothes it with his tongue and puckered lips.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous taking my cock like this. Feel how deep I am. You’re squeezing me so tight, baby.”

“Jimin? Jimin, I need—,” you gasp out between thrusts.

“What, princess? What do you need?” he questions, releasing a breast to play with your clit instead. “Want me to pull your hair? Want me to fill you with my cum?”

“I wanna ride you.”

“Oh, fuck.” Jimin pulls back immediately.

He lays down beside you and grabs at your waist, guiding you over his cock and holding on tight as you drop your weight and take him completely. Swiveling your hips, you set a pace slow and steady. Jimin’s thumbs rubs soft circles into your skin as you move.

“Go faster,” he urges, unable to keep his hips from rising to meet yours.

You shake your head ‘no’ and continue with your slow rolling pace.

“Please, y/n. Ride it like you wanna cum with me.”

Smirking devilishly, you slow down even more and lean over him with your hands on either side of his head.

He looks down, watching your breasts sway and the way his cock disappears over and over.

“Fuck, y/n. PLEASE,” he whines, roughly grabbing your hips and pounding up into you.

Your startled laugh quickly turns into desperate cries of his name. His cock hits your g-spot directly. It feels so good you don’t even think you need him to touch your clit to make you cum. But he does. He pinches your bud between his fingers while he slams into you, growling and moaning and begging you to cum with him.

“I’m close,” he grunts, licking his fingers and rubbing furiously at your clit.

“Me too,” you whine. “I’m gonna—”

You don’t have time to finish the thought as he takes you over the edge with him. He slams his head back against the pillows as he pumps his hips and cums to the wild pulsing of your orgasm. Your cunt milks every last drop from him and you cry his name, clutching his wrists and letting your head fall back so you can wail your pleasure at the ceiling.

Jimin gasps, picking up his head to look down at how your pussy spreads open around him. Your slick cum coats the condom and his mouth waters, remembering the sweet tang of your taste. You’ve barely stopped grinding on him when he sits up to push you down on your back.

Pulling out, he kneels beside the bed and pulls you to the edge by your legs so he can gently lick you clean. He exhales a hot and heavy breath, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before standing up to peel the loaded condom off his softening cock.

“That was… wow,” you pant, staring up at the ceiling for a moment as you try to regain your breath.

He’s already back at your side, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you towards his chest.

“Yeah,” he agrees while softly combing his fingers through your hair. He’s tired.

You smile against his sweaty chest and plant a soft salty kiss against him. Through the corner of your eye you see the row of untouched condoms on your nightstand. “We’ve got a lot left. Wanna go again?”

He hums a deep throaty sound and laughs when your hand falls to his limp cock. “I want to, but I need a bit to recharge. I can make you cum again while we wait. Do you want that, baby?”

“I always want that. But you don’t have to.”

The groan in his throat sounds croaky as he leans in to kiss your forehead. “I want to.”

He reaches down to wedge his fingers between your thighs and your whole body jumps at the sensitive sensation. How dare your body betray you in this moment?

“Seems like you might need time to recharge too,” he teases while nuzzling against the top of your head and squeezing you in a warm embrace against him. “I’m okay with just laying here and holding you.”

“Yeah?” You smile and cross your leg over his to get more comfortable. “Mmm. You can always help me study for the next test while you’re here.”

Laughter bubbles from his throat. “Are you trying to seduce me for answers to the exam? You know I don’t grade them, right.”

You roll your eyes and scoff, barely containing your giggles as you look up at him. “I don’t think I need to seduce anyone for answers. My head feels a little clearer now.”

“Oh? Why’s that?” he prods while playfully ghosting his fingers down your side.

“Because I know I can be distracted outside of class now instead. I mean, if you wanna keep doing this,” you explain while nervously drumming your fingertips on his chest. “I know I’m not anything special, but—”

Jimin lifts your chin and pulls you into a deep kiss. “You are,” he whispers when he pulls away.

You lick your lips and blink a few times. “I was gonna say you make me feel like I am the most special vanilla ice cream cone on the planet.”

His shy, warm smile fills your stomach with butterflies even as he makes his joke. “Want me to lick you up?”

“And so much more.”

It’s a weighted confession. You sit up to look at him so he knows this. He purses his lips and casts his away. He was avoiding this conversation.

“I don’t know how much more I can give you. I want to be what you deserve, but things are so hard right now. I don’t know that I can be someone who’s good enough for you. You deserve to be showered in gifts and taken on dates. You deserve to be given flowers every day. I don’t even have a car to take you somewhere for a vacation. I’m not sure I can be what you want.”

“Just be yourself,” you state plainly, cupping your hand around his jaw. “That’s what I want. So far I like the person I see. I like you, the real you.”

“I like you too,” he blurts, eyes snapping back to meet yours. “But I can’t afford—”

You press a finger to his lips. “I don’t need expensive dates or fancy gifts. I don’t need you to take care of me— well, last night was the exception and you didn’t need money for that. I just want you to be with me. Talk with me. Spend time with me. Maybe have lots of sex? I don’t know, we can figure out the rest later.” You laugh, embarrassed by your own boldness.

“You see everything that I am and you still want me.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re amazing. Now I know for sure you’re too good for me. But,” he pauses and slips his hands into yours, “I want to keep seeing you. I like talking to you and the more time I spend with you, the more certain I feel about the choices I’ve made. No one’s ever made me feel so free. I want to hold onto that feeling. I want to hold onto you.”

You tell yourself not to cry as you straddle his waist and hover above his lips. “I’m yours then. Are you mine?”

He catches your lips between his and buries his hands in your hair. “I’m yours.”

[jayeray-hq]

How He Shows You Affection: Kuroo Tetsurou

This one honestly really sucks to have to re-post because it did have a lot of notes thanks to the amazing people on Haikyuu Headquarters who helped me out. However I do want it to show up in the tags so here we are. 😢😢😢 Notes: 120

Post Time Skip/Manga Spoilers!

Warnings: Slight groping, very slight implied NSFW

How He Shows You Affection Masterlist - Character Masterlist

He Fusses Over You

            “Tetsurou?!” you asked more than a little shocked to see your boyfriend standing on your doorstep. You hadn’t expected him to come over, and you frantically wracked your brain trying to figure out if you’d forgotten something or maybe missed a message somewhere, but you were almost sure you hadn’t, “What are you doing here?”

“Aww Kitten, you make it sound like you’re not happy to see me,” he told you a teasing smile on his face, “You going to let me in?”

             “Of course, I’m happy to see you,” you told him taking a step back to let him in, “I just wasn’t expecting you.”

             Which was true. You’d specifically told him earlier that you’d be busy all day, working on a project, so you’d actually expected the opposite, that you wouldn’t get to see him until tomorrow.

             “I know,” he told you sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck as he eyed you from beneath his bangs, “But I was in the area, thought I’d stop by and see if you’d eaten yet? I brought food.”

             He held up the bag he had in one of his hands that you’d failed to notice, holding it out to you like a peace offering. You immediately noticed the logo on the bag was from one of your favorite take out places, and your heart stomach immediately rumbled eagerly, making you blush. You’d gotten so caught up in your project that you hadn’t actually stopped to eat and were only just belatedly realizing that you were starving.

             “I’ll take that as a no you haven’t,” your boyfriend told you a slightly scolding tone to his voice that made you rather sheepish in turn, “Come on kitten let’s get you fed.”

             You conceded with good grace, and the two of you went to the kitchen. You were even hungrier than you’d initially thought and eagerly dug into your food as your boyfriend watched on, looking half amused, half exasperated.

             “You really need to learn to take breaks,” he told you a concerned frown on his face, “Or at least eat snacks. Going without eating for so long lowers your blood sugar and makes it harder for you to concentrate so it’s better to stop and eat.”

             “You’re one to talk,” you told him amused.

             “Hey I may not take breaks, but I have mastered the art of eating and working at the same time,” he defended with a grin.

             “Tell that to the report you dripped ramen broth all over,” you sassed back.

             “That was one time,” he protested.

             “Crumbs in my couch,” you listed off on your fingers, unable to resist teasing him, “barbeque sauce on your shirt, rice on the floor.”

             “Okay, okay more than once,” he admitted wryly, “But at least I can say I actually eat!”

             You huffed but couldn’t argue with that. He was actually pretty good about his meals, and usually kept an enormous bottle of water and a thermos of tea around too whenever he had long projects.

             “Have a glass of water too,” he told you standing walking to the sink to fetch you just that, clearly reading your mind, “It’s important to keep hydrated!”

             You indulged him, drinking the water he offered and finishing your food all under his watchful eye. Once you’d finished eating he helped you clean up quickly, and paused one last time by the door.

             “Don’t stay up too late,” he told you cupping your cheeks in his palms and affectionately running his thumbs over your cheekbones, “Get at least seven hours of sleep.”

             “I’ll do my best,” you assured him amused and feeling extremely warm and loved from his clear concern for you, moving to press your lips to his in a quick kiss goodbye, a gesture he eagerly accepted, holding you close for several long minutes before reluctantly drawing apart.

             “Keep drinking water,” he insisted as he pulled his shoes on, “Or tea. Call me if you need anything. I’ll keep my phone close.”

             “Okay Tetsu,” you agreed indulgently as you gently shooed him out the door, “I will.”

             “Okay,” he agreed, “Text me goodnight will you, so I know you actually went to bed?”

             “I will,” you assured him again, letting out a huff of amusement, “Really Tetsu you worry too much.”

             “Only for you kitten,” he retorted with a grin, the same one that never failed to make your heart melt.

             “Yeah, yeah,” you told him, though the soft smile on your face undoubtedly gave away your real feelings about the matter

 “I love you,” he told you seriously, pausing in his trip out the door so he could look you in the eye as he said it.

             “I love you too,” you returned, giving him one last quick kiss goodbye, unable to resist stealing another, “I’ll see you tomorrow alright?”

             “Alright,” he agreed, clearly still a little reluctant, though he did leave in the end. You immediately turned to get back to work on your project, feeling incredibly warm, full, well rested, and ready to get back to work. More importantly you felt absolutely loved, and you made a mental note to return the favor sometime soon, for your amazingly sweet boyfriend.

  <b>He Teases You (and Secretly Loves if You Tease Back)</b>

             “Having trouble there kitten?” your boyfriend asked startling so much you nearly fell over, flopping down on to the couch with an unhappy pout on your lips. You’d been trying to move the extremely heavy piece of furniture for over five minutes now and were on the verge of giving up. You’d been so engrossed in your task that you hadn’t even heard your boyfriend come home from work.

             When you glanced up at him he was leaned against the doorway, still in his suit jacket from work, though his tie was loose around his neck, and his arms were folded across his chest. He had an extremely amused look on your face that told you he’d probably been watching you for a while.

             You didn’t bother to answer his question, considering it had a very obvious answer, and you knew any response out of your mouth was bound to get you teased so you chose to say nothing at all. Not that, that stopped his smile from stretching even wider across his mouth, apparently well aware of your tactics and highly amused by them.

             “What are you trying to move the couch for anyway?” he asked curiously.

             “I dropped one of my earrings,” you admitted with a sigh, figuring there was no point in hiding it from him, especially since you were doubtless going to need his help to get it, “And I can’t reach it.”

             “Oya? That is a problem,” Kuroo told you with a mischievous smile on his face, “If only there was a strong, handsome gentleman around to help you with that.”

             “If only,” you lamented, not about to let him get away with teasing you completely, “Do you think Yaku would come over if I asked?”

             “Yaku?” Kuroo sputtered the teasing smile falling off his face replaced with indignation, “You’d call Yaku for help?”

             “Oh how about Lev!” you proposed unable to help your own wide impish smile, “Lev would help me if I asked I’m sure of it!”

             “Lev?” he repeated incensed, “Lev wouldn’t help kitten, he’d probably trip over the couch or break it!”

             You couldn’t hold in your giggles at that earning a huff from your boyfriend who informed you, “You’re a cruel kitten, teasing me this way.”

             “It’s your fault,” you informed him faux haughtily sticking your nose in the air, “You should’ve just helped me instead of teasing me.”

             “Alright, budge up then kitten, let’s get your earring,” he told you straightening up, and pulling off his suit jacket an amused smirk on his face.

             You did as he asked, watching with a slight pout as he easily scooted the couch away to reveal your missing earring. However you didn’t move to grab it right away slightly distracted by the flex of his shoulders beneath the white button up he was wearing, which was incredibly enticing.

             “See something you like?” he asked pulling you away from your ogling a proud smirk on his lips, that told you he knew exactly what you’d been doing.

             “Mm, always Tetsu,” you assured him, knowing that sometimes the best way to deal with his teasing was with complete and utter sincerity, letting your hand caress his back as you moved to grab your earring, and feeling rather cheeky let it slip lower to give him a firm squeeze earning a surprised inhale from your boyfriend.

 You smiled triumphantly as you backed away, inspecting the recovered bit of jewelry pleased to have it back in your possession and to find it hadn’t suffered for its brief time under the couch.

             However, you nearly dropped it again as you were abruptly scooped off your feet and dumped on to the couch, making you yelp in surprise, an amused grin touching your lips as you saw your boyfriend hovering over you.

             “You shouldn’t tease me like that kitten,” he scolded lightly, his eyes alight with affection and desire.

             “Oh?” you teased, well aware that you were pushing his buttons, “What are you going to do about it Tetsu?”

             Needless to say you lost the earring again and had to make your boyfriend move the couch again later to retrieve it as he showed you exactly what he meant to do about it.

  <b>He Always Has to be Touching You</b>

             “Hey everyone,” you greeted cheerfully, as you and your boyfriend slid into the seats that had been saved for the two of you at the monthly gathering of his former volleyball team.

             The group returned your greetings, all of them well used to your presence by now, as you’d been attending them for over a year now. The minute the two of you were settled in your seats Kuroo had his arm thrown over the back of yours, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder, absently playing with your shirt collar and gently rubbing your shoulder as the two of you caught up with the rest of the group.

             You talked quietly with Kenma about his latest stream, and how his business had been doing, leaning over to watch the new game he was playing on his phone. The instant you were no longer in contact with the hand he’d had on your shoulder Kuroo’s arm shifted to keep touching you his hand finding the back of your neck, thumb gently playing with the small hairs there and gently massaging every now and then.

             When your food came he removed his arm, apparently not even noticing as he absently set his palm on your thigh under the table, while the group listened to Kai tell them about his new store where he’d be selling plants and flowers, which had been his dream for a long time now.

             Throughout the reunion he never really took his hands off of you absently holding your hand, brushing his arm up against yours, pressing your thighs together under the table, nothing too big or noticeable, but constant and reassuring.

             “The two of you are really disgusting you know,” Yaku informed you suddenly, surprising you.

             “Disgusting?” you repeated more than a bit baffled by this abrupt turn in conversation.

             “It’s gross how absolutely cutesy you act,” he expanded rolling his eyes.

             “Cutesy?” you asked turning your gaze to your boyfriend who looked partially amused, partially confused, apparently not sure what Yaku was talking about either.

             “Don’t be jealous Yaku,” Kuroo told his friend faux brightly, never missing a chance to needle him despite his confusion, “I’m sure you won’t be sad and single forever. There has to be someone out there who will have you.”

             It was more than enough to set the libero off, informing Kuroo that he was more than capable of getting a partner of his own if he wanted to, he just didn’t want to right now because of his thriving career. He honestly played right into Kuroo’s hands, as your boyfriend kept gleefully jabbing away at one of his favorite victims. Meanwhile you turned your gaze to someone far more sensible.

             “Are we really disgusting?” you asked Kenma quietly, a little concerned.

             “It’s fine,” he assured you firmly, eyes not leaving his phone as he answered your question, “It’s not like your PDA is any worse than any other couple’s, your just very consistent about it is all.”

             “PDA?” you repeated baffled, your genuine confusion catching his attention his amber eyes flicking up to study yours intently for a moment before seemingly realizing your confusion was genuine.

             “You’re always touching,” Kenma explained patiently, “Even now you’re touching, though I think it’s more Kuroo’s fault than yours. He reaches for you.”

             You wanted to protest that you weren’t always touching, but then realized you couldn’t especially when even though he’d removed his hand from your thigh to gesture rather rudely at Yaku, he still had his own pressed to yours.

             Curiously you scooted away so you weren’t touching anymore, moving closer to Kenma. However, seconds later he followed, not even seemingly to notice as he shifted closer to you, his attention never deviating from his conversation with Yaku. You did it again, with the same results, and again, and again. He always seemed to seek you out, though on the last one his hand had dropped to catch your own, twining his fingers through yours as if to keep you from moving further.

             You let out a small huff of surprise and amusement, gently squeezing his hand in fondness, your heart feeling like it was about to melt at how surprisingly cute his actions were, especially if they really were automatic. The gesture caught your boyfriend’s attention and he broke off his conversation with Yaku to look at you, a slightly puzzled frown on his face.

             “Everything alright kitten?” he asked, “Did you need something?”

             “No,” you assured him with an affectionate smile, “I’m good, great even.”

             “Oh?” he prompted, clearly curious, though he returned your smile with his own fond look, his eyes soft as he watched you.

             “It’s nothing,” you told him with a grin, “You’re just really cute Tetsu.”

             “That’s nice and all,” Kenma told you before your boyfriend had a chance to respond, cutting off what was no doubt going to be some kind of teasing remark, “But can you move? The two of you are squishing me.”

             “Whoops, sorry Kenma,” you apologized unable to help the amused smile as you realized you’d basically been half sitting in the poor man’s lap in your quest to see Kuroo chase after you.

             The former setter merely rolled his eyes in response, though you could see a hint of amusement on his face as you informed your boyfriend it was all his fault for squishing the two of you given that he was the biggest, while he protested rather vehemently, pouting at you the whole time, and claiming innocence.

             Meanwhile you filed another thing you loved about your boyfriend away in your heart, feeling incredibly lucky to have him.

[tanyawritesstories]

Friendly Competition | Boost x Reader

This is a fic I wrote a long time ago and I'm only now posting. I haven't written in months and I'm honestly thinking about quitting but regardless, here you go I hope you like it.

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: NSFW, smut, vibrators, butt plugs, general mischief, anal exploration (the good kind), fluff, Sinker is nosey

•••

It wasn't often that you visited these kinds of stores. You usually just ordered the products from the holonet and waited for them to be delivered, but you were out and about with your boyfriend and it was his last day on leave. You both had been walking through the mid levels of Coruscant and seen the store. You decided it would be worth it to try and find something fun to spice things up while you were away.

You and Boost had both kept your jacket hoods up as you entered. Boost looked around curiously while you kept your head tilted down just enough to hide the permanent blush staining your cheeks. Sure, you'd been in sex toy stores before, but that time was with a group of friends where the attention wasn't on you and you could easily blend into the group and not be noticed.

Boost took your hand in his, interlacing your fingers together as you roamed the store, browsing. "You're not usually the shy one," he whispered. You looked up at him, finding a teasing smirk on his handsome face. Your face turned even more red and you buried your head in his chest, causing him to laugh. He put his arms around you and held you to him, loving how much bigger he was than you. You closed your eyes and nuzzled into him, resting the side of your head against his warm body. You listened to his heartbeat, it was one of the things that comforted you the most.

You opened your eyes after a moment and spotted an interesting object across the room. You broke away from Boost and made your way to it. Plucking the box off the shelf you glanced over it, a number of wicked ideas popping into your brain.

"Baby," you called sweetly, "come here please." You turned around and hid the box behind your back, watching as Boost walked closer with a suspicious look on his face. "Oh no," he said, "what've you found?" You smiled. "If I ask nicely will you wear this?" You brought the box out from behind your back. Boost's eyebrows shot up on his face as he looked at the image on the box.

"A vibrating buttplug?" He questioned. "Are you serious?" You giggled, "c'mon babe, it'll be fun." Boost crossed his arms over his chest and sighed.

It was a recent discovery that Boost liked anal. You had been in the middle of giving him a mind shaking blowjob when you decided to be bold. Your fingers were slicked up with spit and precum so you had slowly pushed one fingertip inside him. He came instantly, letting out the most heavenly noises you'd ever heard him make. You both had discussed it afterwards and Boost had shown interest in exploring the realm further. You figured this was a good next step, you also loved to be a tease.

"Please Boostie, baby. Please! It'll be fun, I promise," you pleaded. "Look at you, begging in public," he teased. Your blush deepened and you glared at him through your eyelashes. "Please," you whispered. Boost sighed and stared at the ceiling, thinking. A sly smirk formed on his face, making you uneasy.

"I will wear that if.." he took a few steps back and picked something off another shelf, "..you wear these."

You looked at him in disbelief. "Vibrating panties? That's where you're taking this?"

"It's only fair," he said. "You wear these one day and I'll wear that the next." You thought about it, another fantastic idea coming to mind.

"Alright, you wear this one day on campaign and I have the controller. Then I'll wear those another day and give you the controller. When we get back and go to 79s like we always do, we'll both wear them."

Boost nodded. "The goal is you can't draw any suspicion, try to be as quiet and collected as possible while the other one of us teases the other with the controller. Whoever breaks first loses."

You nodded and walked to stand next to him. "No touching allowed, only tease with the vibrator. If anyone manages to guess exactly what we're both doing, which I doubt, then we both lose." Boost smiled, "Deal."

~~~~

Luckily, this campaign would be a short one, only a week long supply mission. You snuck your toy contraband into the cruiser with no trouble, hiding both small boxes amongst your clothes.

You were a strategist, normally coming up with battle plans. General Plo Koon had put you in charge of this mission, hoping to give you more assignments in the future that didn't just include destroying things.

The General was currently attending business at the Jedi temple, leaving you and Commander Wolffe in charge of the entire operation. You could tell Wolffe wasn't a fan of it, but he would do his job without complaint.

After the first couple days of traveling, the cruiser had arrived above the planet. The first day of delivering supplies to the surface was also the first competition day.

Boost had made sure that the vibrator was working and in its proper place when you got ready this morning. He had watched you the entire time you got ready, twirling the small controller in his hand giddily.

“You had better be nice,” you warned lightly. “Oh I won’t,” Boost laughed. He had a sexy but dangerous look in his eyes which was turning you on already. Not a good start.

The boring tasks of the day went by without any issue, until it was time for the briefing. You knew your boyfriend was bound to pull something here, but you didn’t know exactly what.

It’s ok, just act normal.

That was easier said than done.

The second you entered the room all eyes were on you, patiently awaiting the plan of action. You smiled at everyone and was making your way to the front of the room when you felt the vibrator start up. You let out a squeak and your knees buckled, you grabbed onto the table nearby for support. You laughed nervously and stood up straight, determined to win and keep a straight face.

“Alright everyone, classic supply mission nothing you all haven’t done before,” you started. Boost was sneaky, manipulating the controller without anyone knowing, spiking the intensity up and down quickly. The tiny jolts and deep breaths you were taking were causing a few of the men to give you weird looks as you talked.

“..and of course the remainder of the week will be spent making sure that the civilians have everything they neeeeed!” Your voice rose to a squeal at the end as you felt the vibrations increase significantly. You clenched your thighs together and your breathing picked up.

“Are you alright, sir?” You heard one of them ask. You looked up, eyes scanning the room, a few of the men looked concerned and others looked confused. You glanced over a Boost for a brief second to find him with a shit eating grin on his face, half hidden by his hand. The vibrations felt good, you just didn’t want it to feel good right now. The toy was positioned just over your clit, delivering pleasurable tingling that flowed through your body.

“Y/N.”

You stood up straight at the voice of Commander Wolffe, who was standing on the other side of the room. “Are you ok to continue, or are you not capable?” He questioned with an annoyed tone. You took a deep breath and steeled yourself. “I’m alright, Commander,” you said. The rest of the briefing went by without too much of a hitch, Boost was still being a little shit but you were determined not to let him win.

The entire day was filled with frustration. Boost wouldn’t let up, bringing you to the precipice of orgasming in front of a few civilians you were talking to, you wanted to slap him for that one. Every time he turned the vibrations high your knees would bend and you’d let out either a yelp or a moan that you tried to cover up. It got to the point where one of the medics pulled you aside and asked if there was something seriously wrong. You were able to convince him that you were fine and just tired. You walked triumphantly back to your tent as the day ended. You had won this round.

~~~~

You woke Boost up by laying on top of him and nuzzling your nose into his neck. He groaned, reluctantly opening his eyes to find you already looking at him. A few days on the planet had passed and it was now Boost’s turn to compete. “What time is it?” He grumbled. “Oh six hundred,” you answered, getting off of him and kneeling on his sleeping mat. “What do we have to do today?” Boost rubbed his eyes. “Same thing we did yesterday only in a different part of the city,” you responded. Boost looked up at you and you smiled deviously. “Guess what you have to wear today,” you said. You reached into your pocket and pulled out the silicone plug. “Did you seriously wake me up this early just to put a buttplug in me?” He asked with almost disbelief in his voice.

You giggled. “Maaayybeee. Everybody else is going to wake up soon so I suggest we get a move on.” Boost groaned again and rolled onto his stomach, putting his hips up in the air. You removed his blanket and rubbed his back to calm him down, he turned his head so he could see what you were doing. You had to admit, your boyfriend looked incredibly hot in this position: head down, ass up. It was causing your own arousal to spike; who knew, maybe if he liked this he’d let you peg him sometime down the road.

“It’s not gonna hurt, is it?” He asked. You smiled warmly at him as your hands wandered lower, rubbing gently over his bum. “No, it shouldn’t, sweetie. We got the smallest one they had, it’s not much bigger than my fingers,” you told him. “If you don’t want to, we don’t have to, Boost.” He took a deep, calming breath, “No, I want to do it.” You smiled and kissed his cheek, “I will have to get you ready first, ok? I’m just going to use my fingers to stretch you out a little so you can take the toy, ok?” Boost nodded and verbally agreed.

You fished the small bottle of lube out of your pocket and slid his blacks and briefs down to his thighs. “You have a very cute butt, baby,” you commented, causing Boost to laugh. You touched your fingers to the crease where his ass and thigh met, slowly running your fingers up to their destination. Boost sucked in a breath as your fingers danced over his hole and his muscles tensed up. “You have to relax, baby,” you cooed, “otherwise it might hurt. Do you want me to touch your cock too? Might help you relax.” Boost shook his head and balanced his upper half on his elbows. “No, we agreed to no touching, just do what you have to do to get it in,” he urged.

You complied and reminded him to relax. You squirted some lube onto your index finger and some onto his hole, spreading it around. “I’m going to put my finger in now, ok?” Boost nodded and took a deep breath, exhaling when you told him to. On his exhale his muscles loosened and you slowly pushed your finger in just past the first knuckle. You could hear him bite back a moan and his breathing started picking up a little bit. You waited until he got used to it before beginning to thrust your finger in and out, pushing it a little bit deeper every time.

“How is it?” You asked. He let out a shaky breath. “Just get the plug in, I won’t last long if you keep doing that,” he breathed. You smiled, it was a good feeling knowing that you could get your boyfriend to the brink of bliss with just a finger in his ass. You carefully added a second finger, repeating the same slow motions and techniques to gently stretch him out. When you thought he was ready, you lubed up the toy and removed your fingers, enjoying the whining sound he made when he was empty.

You rested the toy against his ass and slowly pushed it in. Boost bit his lip to hold back the indecent noises threatening to spill out. "Just a little further," you encouraged. You used your other hand to trace his V lines and divert his attention to get him to relax. He shuddered and you noticed the erection that was being held down with the front of his briefs. One last small push on your part and the plug came to a rest inside him.

Boost let out a breath and you chuckled. "There's a good boy. How's it feel?" You questioned. He shifted his hips and wiggled around, trying to get used to the feeling. "It's a bit….odd," he said. You pulled his blacks and briefs back up and spanked him. "Stand up, it'll feel different," you urged, standing up yourself. He stood up with a sigh and a weird look in his face. "I think I'll get used to it," he said. "Let's start the day."

~~~~

This was fun, you were having a great time messing with your boyfriend. It had only been little things so far on the low to medium settings of the vibrator. You had teased just enough to make him squirm a bit. Once you did it while he was moving a box of supplies and he dropped the box, which nearly landed on his foot. You hadn't used the higher settings yet, you were saving those to make a big scene that you hoped would break Boost and give you the win.

That time came when the work for the day was done. Boost, Sinker, Comet and several other troopers were sitting around a table playing an intense game of Sabacc. You were sitting at a nearby table going over the plans for tomorrow and making sure everything would be taken care of by the time the battalion had to leave the planet. From your spot you had a clear view of Boost and could hear everything being said at their table. Time to start your game.

You turned the vibrator on and upped it a couple notches. You heard Boost suck in a breath and saw him tense up, but he steadied himself and continued. You let it go for a little while before cranking it a bit higher. He took a deep breath and glanced up at you, but you had your head back in the plans already. You waited a couple more minutes until Boost was once again concentrated on his game.

You kept your eyes on Boost as you cranked the vibrator up all the way. He instantly dropped his cards with a shout and clamped his hands on his knees. He was biting down hard on his bottom lip and his knuckles were turning white from his tight grip on his legs. You heard his brothers asking if he was alright and Boost tried to explain it away as a leg cramp, which wasn’t convincing at all. Boost took a few deep breaths, calming himself down and picking his cards back up. He wiggled a bit and leaned forwards in his seat so there was less pressure on the plug as opposed to sitting directly on it. After a few seconds their game continued as normal, you tried again a few times after that but got only small reactions from him. Boost looked over at you and winked, knowing he had won his round as well. You held back the urge to bonk him on the head, it would all come down to the final round in a few days.

~~~~

The supply mission had been a success, the citizens of the planet were grateful for the aid and they were well on their way to the complete restoration of their cities when the 104th had left. Now, back on Coruscant, Boost and yourself were just arriving at 79s where several more of his brothers waited. You were both wearing your toys tonight as part of the game that had been discussed. This was the final round, whoever broke, if anyone could, would be the loser. Neither of you had talked about a prize or reward for the winner, both too caught up in the idea of a fun and arousing game.

Boost and you entered the club and found his brothers waving you over to the table they had occupied already. You greeted them with smiles and went to sit down. The moment your butt hit the seat, Boost cranked the vibrations up high and you yelped, trying to stand back up and striking your knee hard on the underside of the table. Wildfire asked if you were ok and you assured him that you were before sliding uncomfortably into the booth to make room for Boost to sit next to you.

Warthog brought several drinks back to the table from the bar and you all chatted, laughed, and drank carelessly, enjoying the free time spent together. Boost was halfway through taking a sip of his beer when you turned his vibrator on, causing him to spit some of it back into his glass on reflex. He began coughing to try and cover up the moan he nearly let slip, all while you tried to hold back giggles and whimpers of your own.

A few minutes later, Boost put his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his side. It was nothing out of the usual for his brothers to see, but under the table he used his leg to nudge yours apart allowing your vibrator to land directly on your clit. You bit your lip and leaned your head into his chest, hoping none of them saw the blissed out look on your face. You turned Boost’s vibrator up a bit but he didn’t react, he’d gotten used to it and it was pissing you off. You were determined not to let him win.

When he least expected it, you carefully reached your hand over, under the cover of the table, and cupped his slowly growing length. You felt him buck into your hand and you made a point to be discreet, carrying on with conversation so no one suspected anything. You started rubbing Boost through his pants at which point he lowered his mouth to your ear. “You’re cheating,” he growled. You smiled and laughed, pretending he whispered a joke into your ear. “Yeah, well so are you,” you whispered back. You tried tugging your spread leg out from where he had it trapped under his own, but it was no use, Boost was strong. He glared at you and you glared right back for a few seconds until you both went back to acting normal, but Boost had an idea.

The next round of drinks came and the boys were starting to get more buzzed. You had your drink set on the table in front of you, you were about to reach for it when Boost reached across you in a hurry and knocked the glass of beer over. You gasped as the liquid spilled all down the front of you, you immediately knew he had done it on purpose, there was no way he didn’t. The rest of the boys asked if you were alright and you told them that there was no harm done.

“You want help cleaning that up, babe?” Boost asked, a suggestive look in his eyes. “Yes, that would be very helpful,” you replied. Boost told the boys that you would both be back soon before leading you back to the one-room refresher at the back of the club. As soon as the door was closed and locked, Boost was pushing you up against the wall, his lips colliding heatedly with yours. You made out, wrapping a leg around his hips to bring him closer and you could feel his hardened length against your thigh.

“Do you have any idea how hard it was to restrain myself from pouncing on you while this thing was in my ass?” He asked, his breathing shallow. “I swear I’ve never been more turned on in my life.” You smirked and brought your leg down. “I think we can make an arrangement,” you purred. You hooked your fingers on your panties and dragged them down your legs while Boost bunched your skirt up around your waist. “Fuck, you’re glistening,” he observed. Boost kicked your legs apart and slowly ran a finger up and down your slit, collecting your juices. You whimpered, his actions sending pleasure radiating through your body.

You quickly worked on unzipping his pants and shoving them down to his knees, watching his long cock spring free of its restraints. You whimpered at the sight and Boost felt your hole flutter as he pushed two fingers inside you. “Fuck the rules, I’m going to take you hard and fast against this wall, that ok?” Boost asked breathlessly. “Don’t make me wait,” you replied with a devious smile. You smashed your lips into his and Boost lined himself up before slamming inside you in one powerful thrust.

You screamed as your back arched from the feeling, your noises drowned out by the loud music. Boost’s cock always filled you so nicely and you felt him twitch inside you. “Holy fuck, this feels good, shiiiit,” Boost moaned loudly. You then remembered while you had taken off your vibrating panties, Boost still had his vibrator nestled snugly inside his asshole. He started to fuck you at a fast pace making noises you’d never heard your boyfriend make before, moaning and whimpering so loud you were glad for the blaring music outside. You wrapped your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck, meeting his thrusts and kissing his neck.

“Fuck, Boost, please harder,” you begged. Boost held you against him, absolutely destroying your pussy with the speed of his thrusts, the pleasure blaring through your body. “Babe, turn it up,” he grunted, “turn it up all the way and play with your clit, I’m close.” You fished the controller for his vibrator out of its hiding spot in your bra and turned it on max. You dropped the controller on the floor and used that hand to massage hard circles on your clit bringing you as close to release as your boyfriend.

Boost was overwhelmed with pleasure, his body felt like it was on fire. The plug in his ass was vibrating away, the feeling of being stuffed in his ass and strangled by your walls at the same time was mind blowing and Boost felt his release coming on fast. “I want you to cum before I do, baby,” he moaned, “aahhh, c’mon sugar, play with that clit.” His words in his voice only brought you closer, you could feel his cock twitching within you and with a few more strokes over your clit, you were cumming. White hot, liquid pleasure surged through you and your walls clamped tight around Boost’s cock. He thrusted a few more times and then stilled, his balls tightening as he shot his load deep inside you.

He reached behind him and pulled the plug out, letting it fall to the floor. He held you tight to him as your breathing settled down and you both came down from your highs. You both laughed and picked up your mess, washing off the vibrators and deciding not to wear them for the rest of the night. You both got dressed and tried your best to look like you hadn’t just fucked in the refresher of a club. You shared a sweet kiss before heading back out to the table.

Sinker was the only one still sitting at the table, the others had either gone to dance or get another drink. You sat down across from Sinker and Boost pulled you into his side. “So did you guys finally get those things out of your asses?” Sinker asked out of nowhere. You looked confused. “What things?” Sinker motioned vaguely to his lower body. “Those vibrators I assume you guys were wearing,” he answered like it was the most normal thing ever. “How did you know?” Boost asked, stunned that his brother had managed to figure it out. Sinker sat back in his seat, looking proud of himself. “I’m just that good,” he said. You and Boost shot him a guilty glare and he sighed. “I saw the packages in the trash,” he admitted.

You rolled your eyes and Boost laughed. “We tried so hard to be sneaky and we didn’t think to hide the packaging,” your boyfriend mused. “I guess this means we both lose,” you pointed out. Boost nodded in agreement and planted a kiss to the top of your head.

You’ll think of something better next time.

[intheticklecloset]

Finish What You Started (My Hero Academia)

Primary Universe

Thank you for the compliment! Literally had to look up the definition of the word “tsundere.” I hope I did okay with this one; I personally like how it turned out even if I didn’t get it exactly right in terms of Bakugou being a tsundere. 😂 I really love the dynamic between these two. Writing them together is a lot of fun! Enjoy! 😁

Note: Originally I was going to have this come out tomorrow, but then I learned that apparently January 11 is Todoroki’s birthday, so how could I not post it today instead? 🥰

~

They were never going to get through this festival.

Todoroki walked alongside Bakugou, weaving in and out of the crowd of students as the atomic blonde ranted about all the people who didn’t come to see Class 1-A’s performance this morning. Todoroki bore it in silence for a while, letting his friend blow off steam, no pun intended. But finally, after about five minutes of solid ranting, his patience was wearing thin.

“Calm down, Bakugou,” he finally said. “The people who did see it will tell the others about it. I’m sure somebody recorded it. It’s not the end of the world.”

“Don’t those idiots know what they were missing?” Bakugou continued as if he hadn’t heard the half-and-half hero.

Todoroki grabbed him by the arm and began dragging him to a secluded – or at least less crowded – spot. Bakugou protested the whole way but didn’t make any effort to free himself. In the end they stood in an open, grassy patch away from the booths and vendors of the other classes where they could talk without being heard.

“Lighten up,” Todoroki said to him. “You’ll never enjoy the rest of the festival if you’re so hung up on the show this morning, and we’ve still got a whole day ahead of us.”

“Don’t tell me to lighten up,” Bakugou snapped. “I’m allowed to be angry if I want to be, and I am! So back off!”

In a move so fast the explosive teen never saw it coming, Todoroki swung out his leg and drop-kicked him to the ground, then immediately pinned his arms by his head and used his ice to freeze them there. Bakugou knew even before he found himself straddled what his classmate had in mind.

“Don’t you dare,” he hissed, glaring daggers at him. “We’re in public!”

“No one’s paying any attention to us.”

“They will if you make me lahahahaugh!” Bakugou tried to hold back his giggles, but it was hard when Todoroki was kneading into his ribs like that. He squirmed. “Stop it! L-Lehehehet me up, I’ll stop complahahahahaining, dang it!”

“That’s not good enough.” Todoroki couldn’t help but smirk as he moved higher, to the spot he’d learned about from talking to Deku after his first time tickling Bakugou. “You’ve got to let it go so you can enjoy yourself. I’ll tickle you until you forget all about it.”

“Dohohohohon’t act like you’re dohohohohohoing me any favors.” Bakugou bit back a whine the closer Todoroki got to his weak spot. “Let me go. Todoroki.”

“Don’t want to. Bakugou.” The half-and-half hero finally moved higher, pressing into the spot he’d heard got some good reactions, and watched as his friend broke down into hysterical giggles, his face flushing dark red in response. “We can do this one of two ways. Either I tickle you slowly and gently so you don’t laugh too loud but still eventually forget about the show, or I tickle you mercilessly until the only thing you can think about is how much you want it to stop.”

What the heck? Bakugou thought as he squirmed and giggled, biting his lip to try and stifle himself. Since when does Todoroki act like this?

“The latter option will obviously be faster,” he continued with a shrug. “But who knows? You may prefer to draw it out.”

“W-Why wohohohohould I wahahahahant that, idiot?”

Todoroki’s smirk was back. “So I don’t make you scream, of course.”

Eyes wide, Bakugou growled, “Do not draw attention to me like this.”

“Slow and steady it is, then.”

Todoroki then got to work, tickling gently but firmly, drawing giggle after giggle out of his friend, refreezing the ice on his wrists every once in a while to keep him pinned down, scribbling all over his torso, from his underarms down to his hips and everywhere in between. All the while Bakugou snickered and writhed, spitting out a curse every once in a while when Todoroki switched spots, but overall – astonishingly – not fighting back too much.

Finally, after several minutes of this, Todoroki moved back up to the sweet spot and just lightly scribbled over it. “Feeling better?”

“Lehehehehet me gohohoho.” Bakugou looked up helplessly at his classmate, hating how Icy-Hot smiled down at him. “Tohohohohodoroki…p-please.”

“If you hate it so much, why haven’t you been fighting me?” Todoroki asked. “You could have blasted out of here if you really wanted to.”

“Screw you!” Bakugou snapped, suddenly angry again. “I’m just lehehehehehetting you do this behehehecause I know you’re hahahaving fun.”

Todoroki stopped, staring at him. “…what?”

“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t know.” Bakugou rolled his eyes. “I’m not blind. I saw the way you smiled after tickling me the first time, and I’ve seen the look in your eyes the past few minutes. You enjoy tickling me.”

“I…” Todoroki hesitated, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. “I…didn’t realize you…noticed.”

“Of course I noticed.”

“It’s not just you,” Todoroki said quickly. “It’s Midoriya, too. And Kirishima. Just…friends. I like tickling my friends.” The words made him blush even harder. He seemed embarrassed and uncomfortable now, and he reached up to melt the ice around Bakugou’s wrists. “I’m sorry, I’ll leave you alone.”

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Bakugou grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him back down before he could stand up.

“What? But you—”

“You’ll never enjoy the rest of the festival if you’re hung up about this.” The explosive teen smirked at the shocked look on Todoroki’s face. “Finish what you started, Icy-Hot. My secret’s out with you anyway; I have nothing to hide at this point. Go nuts.”

Todoroki couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He looked sideways at his classmate. “Seriously? Just a second ago you were begging me to stop.”

“I was not begging,” Bakugou corrected firmly. “I was reminding you how good of a friend I’m being for letting you do this to me. So take advantage of it, idiot.”

Todoroki said nothing for a moment. He blinked, trying to process what Bakugou had said. The silence stretched between them.

Then, with a bright grin, he dug into that sweet spot as hard as he could.

“AGH-AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Bakugou roared with laughter, tossing his head back and shoving his arms down to his sides. “HOLD OHOHOHOHOHOHON A SEHEHEHECOND!! SLOW DOWN!! NOT SO HAHAHAHAHAHARD!! TODOROKIHIEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!!!”

Luckily for him, his laughter blended in with the rest of the festival noises, so no one was the wiser when Todoroki straddled him again and tickled him until he was very nearly screaming with hysterical laughter.

The performance from that morning was most definitely forgotten.

[jackrrabbit]

practice makes perfect /// Mitsuri x f!Reader (18+)

Request: Hey! I read your Shinobu NSFW thing. I was wondering if you could write a Mitsuri NSFW thing but not as intense? Like Mitsuri and her female S/o are cuddling and things get a really steamy so they start kissing and fingering each other? Please and thank you!

A/N: REPOSTING because when I posted this a few hours ago it was glitching and not showing up in tags and stuff :( sorry to anyone who has already seen it!

I love Mitsuri and I get so few f/f reqs so ty for the request 💕 Y’all know idk how to write true vanilla so this is a little more spicy (Mitsuri and reader are not in an established relationship), but I made it soft just for you anon

Summary: When the most popular girl in school offers to help you practice kissing, it’s not like you’re going to say no.

Tags/warnings: inexperienced reader, femme preppy Mitsuri, she’s a little soft dom? like just a tiny bit, mild orgasm control, fluffy smut, crushes, modern high school AU, heteronormativity, reader thinks she’s straight lmao, all characters are adults

Okay, Mitsuri isn’t just the queen bee of your school. She’s also the prettiest girl you’ve ever met. It shouldn’t be possible for a person to be that beautiful, much less fair—what was god thinking when he gave her that pink and green hair that would look clownish on anyone but her? Those thick, dark eyelashes framing eyes you feel like you could drown in? Those long, perfect legs?

(Not that you stare at her legs or something. It’s just—your school uniform skirts are kind of short, and she always wears those striped thigh-highs, and she sits next to you in senior Biology and sometimes she stretches her legs out in the aisle between your desks and flexes them while she sighs during long lectures, and seriously, her legs are perfect.)

Mitsuri is the kind of girl who gets asked out by a different guy every other day. She has a fan club. Boys write Mr. _____ Kanroji in their notebooks, circle it with hearts, and fantasize about marrying her. She has more ex-boyfriends than you have Facebook friends. So you’re really sure why, somehow, you two have become…close?

If you have to, you can trace your friendship back to that Biology class. The teacher has a bad habit of cold-calling students for answers to questions, which makes him pretty unpopular. You’ve gotten used to it over the months, deciding that rebelling is a less productive method of dealing with it than just making sure to review the textbook chapters at least twice before every class, but apparently Mitsuri isn’t quite as familiar with the material.

When the teacher calls on her (a bit vindictively, you think, probably because she’s chewing pink bubblegum and drawing cherry blossoms in the composition book she’s supposed to be taking notes in) to ask her something about determining whether an organism’s life cycle exhibits zygotic, gametic, or sporic meiosis, she just gapes blankly back at him.

You feel sorry for her. It’s always painful to watch when someone can’t answer a question in class—you might be a fairly good student, but you still sympathize with how embarrassing it is to be put on the spot like that. The teacher refuses to move on, repeating her name and prodding her until her face is flushed bright pink and her lower lip is trembling. You’re not trying to pity her, but you can’t help it, and before you can think better of it you’re writing ‘compare diploid and haploid forms’ in the corner of your notebook and surreptitiously sliding it her way.

After the class, she pulls you aside in the hallway to thank you, eyes bright, telling you you’re so smart and kind and thoughtful and wondering how come she’s never talked to you before. “What a waste! We sat next to each other all semester, and I’m only getting to know you now.”

No wonder she’s popular. Her exuberance is infectious, like her good mood is seeping into your skin from her hand wrapped around yours. Mitsuri isn’t just pretty, she’s the kind of person who makes you feel good about herself just by being near her.

You’re about 100% sure that’s the last time the two of you will talk (unless she needs help with Bio homework and decides you’re the best candidate to get answers from). But it’s not. Mitsuri insists on treating you to boba after class—you try to deny her but she refuses to hear it and you can’t say no to her when she looks at you with those pretty jade-chip eyes. You get milk tea with black tapioca pearls swimming in caramelized fried sugar; her drink is jasmine rose fruit tea with tiny cubes of green apple floating at the top. “It looks like your hair,” you tell her, motioning toward the pink-and-green drink.

“Really?” Mitsuri’s cheeks turn red, which you notice is a frequent occurrence for her. “That’s why I got it. Isn’t it cute? I love how pretty all of the drinks are at this teahouse.”

The two of you split a little matcha cake. And then a vanilla taro cake. And then Mitsuri orders sweet potato fries and gyoza and fried chicken and shrimp tempura and wow, this girl can eat. “I kind of have a big appetite,” she tells you shyly some time around her fourth order of hanami dango. “Sorry, is it weird?”

“Not at all! It’s cute,” you blurt out, and then immediately cover your mouth. Cute? Where did that come from? That’s not the kind of thing you’re supposed to be saying to a girl you barely even know, or is it? Maybe you’re overthinking this. Mitsuri is so beautiful it’s hard to think straight around her.

You’re so busy staring down at your lap and blushing that you don’t notice she’s doing the same thing.

Mitsuri seems to take that teashop date hangout as permission to pursue a full-fledged friendship with you. Before you know it, she’s inviting herself over to your house after school, dragging you to cafés and picnics to study together on the weekends, and begging you to sit with her at lunch. Her other friends don’t seem thrilled at your being her favorite new playmate, but she doesn’t mind it so you try not to, either.

Like right now. It’s a weekend, and she’s decided that her house is going to be the setting for an overnight Bio study session slash sleepover in anticipation of the test you have coming up. You’re scouring the textbook for an answer at her desk while Mitsuri lies on her stomach on her bed with her feet kicked up behind her and crossed at the ankles. Graded quizzes are spread out in an arc around her on the cotton candy-colored duvet, and the sparkly gel pen she’s using to write flash cards is poking out of the corner of her mouth. With her fair skin barely covered by a tank top and shorts, loose hair flowing over her back, and dark brows furrowed in concentration, she looks like the centerfold of a teen magazine from the 90s.

I bet guys have wet dreams about her, you think. Then you shut down that line of thinking, shut it all the way down because you’re not supposed to be thinking these things about a female friend, no matter how pretty she is or how glossy her lips look even though she’s just wearing chapstick or how good she smells (like strawberries? honey? or whatever sweet she ate last, you’re not sure). But you can’t quite tamp down the feeling that you’ve stumbled on some unbelievable luck to get close to her.

You’re not the only one having trouble focusing on your studies. “I’m done with this!” Mitsuri exclaims, throwing down her pen so it makes a stray line on the quiz she was reviewing before it bounces off the bed. “I’m so tired of studying, aren’t you? If I learn another thing about cell division my brain is going to explode. Can’t we take a break?”

“Sure, if you want to get another 43%. Didn’t your dad say he’s going to stop paying your snack food fund if you fail one more exam?”

Her pink mouth drops open. “Hey! That’s not fair, I didn’t tell you that to use it against me. Be nice.”

But after a second, Mitsuri’s pout turns into a giggle. She hooks her foot around the stem of the office chair you’re sitting in and pulls it toward the bed along with you. “Come on! Let’s talk about love. Do you have a crush?”

You roll your eyes but relent, sliding off the chair and onto the big, fluffy bed next to Mitsuri. You can always get back to reviewing after you take a short break, right? She gathers up the quizzes and notecards and dumps them unceremoniously on the nightstand by her bed to make space for you, all too eager to stop thinking about Bio.

“I don’t have a crush,” you tell her.

“Really? There’s no one you think is cute? No one you want to get to know a little better?”

Well…if that’s what she means… You glance sideways at her. There’s definitely someone you think is cute who you want to get to know better. She doesn’t have to know it’s her—not that you have a crush on her; that would be ridiculous.

If she’s going to get that excited about your potential crush, how are you supposed to tell her you don’t have one? You’ll just have to pretend, for her sake. “I guess there’s someone. I wouldn’t call it love, but…”

Long black lashes flutter up at you as Mitsuri blinks. “Oh my gosh, who is it?”

“It’s a secret,” you say quickly.

“Aww, but I wanna know who you have a crush on!” She scooches closer to you and pokes you gently in the side. “Do I know him? Is he a senior? What does he look like? What do you like about him?”

“Um yeah, you know…him. He’s a senior but you’ll never—seriously never guess who it is, so don’t even try. He’s…really good-looking, I don’t know. He has nice hair…and, um, nice legs. And he…” you trail off, wondering what you can say about your secret ‘crush’ that won’t tip Mitsuri off that you’re talking about her.

“…I like him. He talks a lot but you can tell he cares about what you’re saying when he’s listening to you. He’s kind of dreamy and self-conscious about dumb things but it just makes me like him more.”

Was that too much? Mitsuri is looking into your eyes in pure rapture, holding onto every word you say. Are you being obvious? But—no way. She’s so loved by guys that she’d never even suspect that a girl could like her too.

Not that you like her. Not like that, at least.

After a moment when you feel your heart beating so deeply that you’re sure she can hear it too, she smiles sweetly and pinches your cheek. “You’re really pretty when you’re talking about your crush, (Y/N). You look like a maiden.”

You bite your lip, not sure whether to be embarrassed or flattered. If any other girl as beautiful as Mitsuri called you pretty, you’d think they were being insincere, but she’s not like that. Her genuine affection shines through in everything she does. If you’re pretty, she’s Helen of Troy.

“What do you mean, ‘a maiden’?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” Mitsuri says, tracing invisible hearts into her bedspread with a fingertip. “You just look…innocent somehow? Like this is your first love.”

You duck down, blushing.

“Wait, really?” She sits up and easily flips you over onto your back (sometimes you forget that a decade of cheerleading has made her at least a dozen times as strong as you are) so she can blink brightly at you. “This is your first love? Ooh…”

“Is that so weird?” you ask a little defensively. “I don’t get a lot of crushes.”

“No, it’s not weird! It’s cute,” Mitsuri says. “But aren’t you nervous? What if you fall in love with him and you guys start dating and you don’t know how to do anything?”

“Do what?”

“You know. Like, kissing and stuff. Aren’t you worried that you’ll have your first kiss with him and he’ll be like, ‘oh my gosh, you can’t even kiss, I don’t like you anymore’.”

“No one would say that,” you reply, but the scenario does strike a pang of anxiousness in your heart. You’ve always been too focused on school and friends and family to bother worrying about love, but the truth is you have worried about the fact that you’re soon going to be a high school graduate who has never so much as kissed another person on the lips.

“You have no idea,” Mitsuri sighs. “Boys are so mean. But I can’t believe you haven’t had your first kiss!”

“That’s rude,” you say, wrinkling your nose.

She flaps her hands in the air frantically. “No, no I didn’t mean it like that! Sorry! I just meant I can’t believe you’ve never had a boyfriend when you’re so pretty and nice. The boy who locks you down is going to feel super lucky that he gets to take all of your firsts.”

You sit up next to Mitsuri and lean back on her cushioned headboard. “I don’t care about that. Honestly, I’d rather have some practice before I get involved with anyone.”

A beat passes. Then— “Really? You want practice?”

You shrug. “I mean, I guess? But it’s not like I can just pick up some random guy and tell him to let me practice kissing.”

Mitsuri cocks her head to the side and long pink fringe falls away from her face. “You don’t need to do that. Just practice with me.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” What, is she going to give you tips on tongue technique or something?

“…Like this,” Mitsuri says softly—and then her delicate hand is stroking up the side of your jaw and carding into your hair, tilting your head to face hers and pulling you closer. She hesitates before she makes contact, looking in your eyes as if to confirm are you okay with this? But (maybe because you’re caught off guard, maybe because you think you do need the practice, or maybe because that angelic strawberry-honey smell is way too intoxicating up close) you don’t stop her, and she leans in and completes the kiss.

It’s soft. Smells sweet. Tastes sweeter.

Mitsuri’s lips are velvety and glossy-damp moving against yours. The scent you thought was honey is really honeysuckle—there’s a fresh floral quality to the taste as her lip balm is transferred from her mouth to yours.

The kiss only lasts a few seconds, but by the time she lifts back from you your lips are tingling. You cover your mouth with your hand like a damsel from a Victorian-era novel and stare wide-eyed at her.

“How was that? Your first kiss?”

“I—um, I liked it I think?”

Mitsuri smiles at you and it’s like a ray of sunlight falling down through a break in the clouds. “Yay! I’m glad.”

The two of you sit in silence for a second, and you wonder what you’re supposed to do now. Go back to studying? You’re not sure you’re capable of that when you feel like she’s…still kissing you. It hasn’t quite hit you yet that this is your first kiss—something special, something you’ll never forget. The feeling of Mitsuri kissing you is going to be written on your heart for the rest of your life.

What have I done? you think, but it’s not condemnatory. It’s a question, maybe neutral, maybe hopeful.

“Come on, come here,” Mitsuri says. “You need a little more practice.”

And then she’s kissing you again, all the while pulling you closer, closer, into her lap. She breaks the kiss just long enough to murmur to you to open your mouth. When you do, her tongue slips in, prodding gently between your lips and sliding up against yours. It’s a weird feeling—you can’t say with certainty that it feels good, but it doesn’t feel bad, either. It feels like something you could get used to.

This kiss is longer and deeper, and Mitsuri is sighing into the place where your lips meet. The kissing sounds are both embarrassing and thrilling. You can hardly believe that you’re actually doing this, kissing Mitsuri Kanroji in her bedroom and sitting in her lap with your thighs hovering over hers because you’re scared to let yourself press any deeper into her.

By the fourth kiss, you think you’re getting the hang of this. Your fingers are laced in Mitsuri’s hair, pulling her bangs out of the way so you can see her face clearly. Her eyes are hazy and intense, a warm glow suffusing her cheeks, and her lips are reddened. The feeling of not knowing whether you like having her tongue in your mouth or not is gone. You like it. You want more of it. You could do this all day.

…But apparently Mitsuri has something else in mind. She moves back and looks at you like she’s got a secret she’s dying to tell you. Her hands slide up your thighs, almost reaching the hem of the skirt you’re wearing—it’s knee-length, comfortable and practical for the weather—but with your legs spread over hers, the fabric is bunched up at the juncture of your hips and legs, exposing your thighs to view. Mitsuri’s fingernails (manicured, short blunt French tips, pale pink with stripes of gold near the nail bed) scratch painlessly into your skin. “You learn really fast, (Y/N).”

“Thanks…” you pant out.

“Can I do a little more? Just a little. ‘Cause, I mean, I don’t know if you’ve ever done this yourself—”

Oh. Oh? Mitsuri’s hand is creeping up under your skirt.

“—but it’s really good to have some experience with this, too, before you do anything with boys.”

She’s touching your pussy through your underwear. Those pretty manicured hands are stroking you through the fabric, fingertips sliding up between your lips with practiced precision. Oh god, can she feel how wet you are? You’ve felt that dewy heat growing at your core for a while, but you didn’t think she would touch you and feel it. “Mitsuri?”

“Are you already wet?” Two soft fingers pet your clit, moving over it side to side through your panties. “Did you get wet for me?”

“Mm—mm—Mitsuri…”

“Can I touch?” She pops her chin up and kisses you on the cheek, and then again on the other cheek, the side of your mouth, your forehead, all the while rubbing your pussy.

On the sixth teasing little kiss, you gasp and kiss her fully on the lips. “…okay?”

“Good…” Mitsuri smoothly pushes your ass up so she can hook fingers under the waistband of your panties and tug them down past your hips. You shift and let her do it—it feels like her touch is too hot, sending trails of warmth over every place where your skin meets. Her touch lingers even as you awkwardly straighten out of her lap for just as long as it takes to remove your panties and deposit them gracelessly on the floor.

Are you doing this right? Even with your shirt and skirt on, you feel more exposed than you’ve ever been in front of another person. You’ve never done anything remotely like this before—how weird is it that the first person to touch you is going to be a female friend? That you’re not doing this for the right reasons (and what are the ‘right reasons’? love? intimacy? desire?), but for practice?

Mitsuri settles you back onto her lap and slowly drags your shirt up over your bra. When the undergarment is exposed, she bites her bottom lip and sucks in a breath, and you feel eternally grateful that you, by some coincidence or trick of fate, decided to wear one of your nicer bras today. She cups the side of your breasts and runs her thumbs over the lacy wine-red fabric. “Beautiful…you’re so sexy, (Y/N). I can’t believe I get you all to myself.”

Your cheeks feel hot. Maybe desire is part of the equation after all.

Leaving your shirt bunched up over your tits, Mitsuri returns to your pussy, petting over your thighs and stroking up your mound. Her index finger dabs into the wetness leaking out of you and then circles around your clit.

Around your clit, not on it. If you didn’t know better, you’d think she’s deliberately not touching the place where you want— need to be touched. Her fingers are light and fluttery, not forceful in the least but making you crave more anyway. You try not to let your hips move, but before long you’re twitching on her fingers, trying to get her to do what you want. Your hands are braced uselessly on the headboard, but you hesitantly pick up your right hand to replace hers and touch your clit properly.

She isn’t having it. Her free hand catches yours before you can do anything. “Arms around my neck,” she tells you.

It’s frustrating to be unable to touch yourself when she just keeps building and building with these little flutters, but you trust her. Mitsuri’s a lot more experienced than you are. Slowly, you wrap your arms around her neck and wind your fingers into her loose hair.

Whatever she’s doing, though, it’s working. Even if you couldn’t feel how wet you are, you’d be able to hear it, the slick sucking sounds of your cunt dampened with your arousal. You’d be humiliated by the way it’s so obvious that you’re turned on if you were cable of thinking straight. Besides, Mitsuri doesn’t mind—at least not judging by the way she’s looking at you.

“Mitsuri…Mitsuri, can you…” You don’t know how to ask her, but you need more.

“Tell me what you want me to do.” Two fingers brush over your clit again and you almost flinch, the light contact sending a spark directly through you. “Tell me what you do when you do this by yourself.”

“I…um…it’s embarrassing…”

“It’s not embarrassing.” Mitsuri lays a short peck on your cheek. “Do you know how pretty you look? I could fall in love with you right now.”

It’s not serious. It’s just the kind of thing Mitsuri says without thinking, but your heart skips a beat anyway. “Touch—a little harder…”

“Where?”

“You know where!” you tell Mitsuri, with as much bite as you can muster.

Mitsuri smiles. “Here?” She pushes a finger into your pussy and you whimper. “Or…here?”

And she’s touching your clit, rubbing over it quickly and franticly, the first direct contact you’ve had since she started. The muscles in your back tense, legs stiffening, toes curling in your fluffy white socks. “Oh— oh, oh, oh— Mitsuri…”

“Does that feel good?”

After all her teasing, it feels more than good. It’s like you’re being filled up with something, some kind of heat that her fingers are bringing out in you, and it’s about to tip over and spill out. You rock your cunt against her fingers, trying to get her to go harder—but she’s already rubbing against you so quickly that you can’t think straight.

Two fingers slip deeper into your pussy, spreading you apart and pumping your slick cunt while her palm provides sloppy stimulation to your clit. You mewl and fall forward onto her, head thrown over her shoulder, so you can feel the vibration of her soft laughter in your chest. “Do you like it? I can tell…you know, your insides are holding me really tight….”

How does she say such dirty things with that pretty mouth? You’d tell her off if you thought you could speak without moaning. “Unff…mmm…”

“I’m going to make you cum, baby,” Mitsuri hums. “You’re going to cum on my fingers, okay?”

She’s right. You’re about to tip over that edge, overflow, get off with Mitsuri fucking you with two fingers twisting and hitting your g-spot and sliding over you so deliciously that you don’t even care that all of this is wrong. “I’m— I’m cumming—“

“Uh-uh.” Mitsuri’s hand stops, still touching but no longer moving, and the heat in your pussy plateaus and then dips.

You’re so frustrated you want to scream. “Mitsuri…!”

“Can you do something for me?” She resumes the teasing movements from before, edging over your clit but not finishing it. “Tell me who you really like.”

“What?”

“I know you like me.” Her free hand, around your waist, slides up and presses her thumb into the divot between two vertebrae in your spine. “When you were talking about your crush, I know it’s me. Tell me you like me.”

“I—I don’t—“

“No, you do. You like me. Say it. Say it, and I’ll let you cum. You want to cum, don’t you? You need it? I’m going to give you what you need, so tell me you like me…”

It’s not like she’s being cruel. Mitsuri’s tone is as sweet and kind and caring as ever. Her pace is agonizingly slow and she’s right, you need it. You’re lucky your chin is resting on her shoulder because you wouldn’t be able to stand it if she saw the look on your face as you choke out, “I like…I like you, Mitsuri! I like you!”

“I like you too, (Y/N),” Mitsuri gasps, and then her fingers are moving again, rubbing your clit, making you crazy, and it’s only a second but you want it so bad that you only need a second before you— you’re— you’re falling apart—

“Mitsuri!”

Oh god. Oh god. It feels good, it feels crazy. You can’t think. You can feel the muscles in your pussy squeezing down intermittently on her fingers. She holds you still as the shocks race up through you, letting you twitch and convulse in her arms.

“See now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Mitsuri sings in your ear.

It takes you a long moment to get the strength to sit up, flopping bonelessly backward on her thighs so you can look her in the eye. “I don’t know,” you sigh finally. “Wasn’t exactly easy.”

Her eyes close when she smiles. “Don’t worry about it. You just need a little more practice.”

[elizabeethan]

Steal Away: 2 / 5

When a bank robbery with his brother goes horribly wrong, Killian Jones learns to heal with the help of a fiery blonde who happened to get caught in the crosshairs.

A Modern AU

Based loosely on the movie Hell Or High Water (and so I tag @captainswanmoviemarathon)

Read on Ao3

Read The Rest

Read my Other Stuff

A/N: So this was supposed to be a one shot, but it’s, like, 24k words so I thought it would be best to split it up. I’m probably going to post one part a night for the next week or so, though.

This part is rated T as well, mostly for language and car sickness :) (I’ll let you know when we get to M hehehe)

thank you as usual to @the-darkdragonfly​, @donteattheappleshook​ and @xhookswenchx for letting me ramble about this for weeks, and to Kay for beta-ing <3

~~~~ 

It happens quickly. 

 Her sense of humor, her taste in music, the adorable way she snorts when he hits a pothole while she’s sleeping… it’s impossible for him to avoid the feelings that stir in him. It’s almost embarrassing, the speed at which he begins to recognize his feelings, but it’s not as if he plans on sharing them at any point. 

 The fact is… he likes her. She’s cute, and funny, and undeniably sexy, and he knows that if she wasn’t here, he probably wouldn’t be either. He would’ve been arrested right off the bat, or shot in the bank himself, or drowning in a bottle of rum beside his brother’s grave. If it wasn’t for Emma Swan and her insistence to stay in his life, he wouldn’t be on his way to Maine to pick up the only remaining person in his life who means something.  

 Although, perhaps that isn’t true, because after a day on the road, he’s discovered that she’s starting to mean something, too. 

 He doesn’t know enough about her to dignify a crush, but he also isn’t stupid. He knows that he’s infatuated with her. He knows that he’s finding it hard to keep his gaze off of her. He knows that her stunning green eyes play off of the gold of her skin and her hair in such a way that makes his heart race. He knows that, based solely on what she’s told him so far, he’s desperate to know more. 

 She doesn't have a family. She spent much of her childhood homeless and running away from abusive foster placements. She was abandoned as an infant, left in the woods at only a few hours old. She’s been through hell and back, and she still manages a blinding smile.

 Her ex boyfriend is the reason she’s here with him, he thinks. She says that he screwed her over and that she wants nothing more than to get away from him and from the place that reminds her of him, and Killian thinks this all happened at a rather convenient time for her. She told him yesterday, when he was panicking over his brother’s demise, that she could tell that he was there in that bank for a good reason, and he’s taken to assuming that she has a good reason to assume that. 

 They hardly know each other, and yet he feels as though he’s known her his whole life. He knows so little about her, and yet, he can read her like she’s an open book. The term kindred spirits feels naive, and yet, that’s exactly what they are. 

 “Are we gonna stop in Chicago?” she asks excitedly as she watches the Welcome to Illinois sign pass them by. 

 “Definitely not,” he laughs. “It’s far too north for where we’re headed.” 

 “What, and Maine isn’t?” she snorts, shaking her head and pointing out a bird that flies by. “What’s up there, anyway?” 

Immediately, his heart starts racing and his palms start sweating at the thought of telling her the true reason for their trip. It dawns on him that, when they arrive, he would have to tell her anyway, lest he abandon her in town before he arrives at the lawyer’s office. 

 Of course, Emma has experienced her fair share of abandonment at this point in her life, and while he hardly knows her and shouldn’t care, he wouldn’t dare contribute to the trauma that comes with the feeling of being left behind and forgotten. 

 Bloody hell. 

 “You don’t have to tell me,” she says after a long moment of silence. 

 He clears his throat, drawing his focus back to the highway before him. “It’s alright, love. I just… it’s a sore subject, I suppose.” 

 “We share a lot of those,” she jokes, smirking at him and making his heart race. More gently, she reasons, “which means you should know by now that I won’t judge you.” 

 “Aye,” he agrees immediately, because he does know that. “Aye, you’re right. It’s, um… my child.” 

 He catches her balking, her jaw dropping and then snapping shut in quick succession before he needs to focus back on the road. “You have a kid?” 

 With a nod, his grip on the steering wheel tightens. This vehicle is better than the last, the clutch not sticking like the one in the truck had, but it’s so small and cramped that he doubts they’ll be able to sleep comfortably in these seats tonight. He’d best pull over soon so that they can find a place to sleep. “I do,” he confirms. “A daughter. She’s eight.” 

 “How old are you?” she asks in shock. 

 He narrows his eyes, shifting his gaze to her briefly and suspiciously asking, “how old are you?”

 “I asked you first,” she says seriously, as if she truly doesn't want to disclose her age, and he begins to panic. She looks old enough, but the potential that he’s just kidnapped a minor on top of everything else begins to assault his thoughts. 

 “Please just tell me I didn’t kidnap you,” he begs, his heart racing. 

 “No,” she rolls her eyes. “I’m 23, and much more mature than you.” 

 With a sound that’s somewhere between a snort and a sigh of relief, he nods. “Aye, love. I’m sure you are.”

 She sits in silence, staring at him expectantly, and he knows that it drives her mad when he smirks and begins to laugh. “Don’t be stupid! Just tell me how old you are!” 

 “I’m… I’m 31.”

 “Oh,” she says, chuckling beside him. “So you’re not that much of a cradle robber. Just a regular old bank robber.” 

 “Oy!” he shouts in offense, staring at her in shock. “Sensitive subject. And what makes you think I’m trying to rob your... cradle?”

 She snorts and shakes her head. “Please. I saw the way you were staring at my ass at that last rest stop.” 

 She could’ve chosen a more opportune time to say that, perhaps when he wasn’t taking a sip of coffee. It’s rather uncomfortable coming up his nose. “Love,” he says through a cough. “I’m not— that is, I meant not to—”

 “It’s fine, Killian,” she tells him, giggling softly and playfully. “A girl likes to feel flattered, especially a girl who feels like a—”

 Her jaw snaps shut and her eyes grow wide, the emerald catching the rays of the sun and throwing glints of gold. “Like a what, darling?”

 “Like… um, like I could eat everything on the menu at McDonalds. Is it time to stop yet?”

 “No,” he laughs, although he finds that he struggles to say no to her and mean it, even after such little time, and he indicates his intent to change lanes and moves towards an exit. “We only stopped for breakfast a few hours ago.”

 “Well, I’m starving,” she tells him, shooting him a soft smile. “And if I don’t stretch my legs in a minute, they’re gonna fall off.” 

 “You need to stretch your legs? Your feet are currently on top of my dashboard. Is that not enough of a stretch?”

 “Your dashboard? I’m pretty sure I witnessed you stealing this car.”

 “From a scrapyard,” he mumbles, giving her a shy smile as he exits the highway. “What do you want for lunch? Or should I say brunch? It’s barely eleven.”

 “We crossed time zones, you ass.”

 “What do you want?” he laughs. 

 She hums playfully, pretending to ponder his question seriously and says, “a prime rib, cooked medium rare, with a side of garlic mashed potatoes. Caramelized onion and mushroom sauce on the steak. And some green beans, for balance.” 

 Shaking his head and laughing along with her, he says, “chicken nuggets and fries it is, darling.”

 ~~~~

 “You need to pull over,” she says suddenly, breaking almost an hour of silence between them during which he was certain she was asleep. After their early lunch, he decided to keep driving, anticipating that she would take over in a few hours. 

 “Emma,” he sighs, “we only just stopped two hours ago.”

 “I’m not asking,” she demands. “I’m telling you that if you don’t pull over,” she puts her hand over her mouth, her retching and gagging preventing her from saying anything more. 

 “Jesus,” he mumbles as he pulls into the breakdown lane, barely stopped and still in gear when she thrusts the door open and loses her lunch all over the ground. He can’t ask her if she’s alright because she hasn’t stopped vomiting, so he checks his side mirror and opens his door, walking around the front of the car to meet her. He stands behind the door and places his hand in her hair, massaging her scalp as she shudders violently. “I didn’t realize you were prone to car sickness.” 

 She groans, shaking her head and resting it against the window at her side. “I think your driving has gotten worse.”

 He hums, continuing his ministrations on her scalp as she catches her breath. “Was it the chicken, love? I knew that stuff was crap.”

 “No, it’s your crap driving.”

 “Do you want to take over, then?”

 “No, I want to sleep.”

 “Come on out and get some fresh air, would you?” She whimpers as he pulls the door open a bit more, and he takes her hand to help her out and around her sick. “It’s alright, love, come here.”

 She breathes deeply as she stands, and only remains in front of him for a moment before she falls forward against his chest and into his arms. “Sorry,” she whispers into his sweatshirts wrapping her arms around his waist and holding herself close to him. “For delaying the trip.”

 “You needn’t worry about that, love,” he soothes, and he focuses on moving his hands along her back and hair in the same way she had his. “A few moments while you find your bearings won’t hurt. Are you alright?”

 She nods against him, a sound coming from her throat that makes him squeeze her tighter. He can’t stop himself from pressing a kiss to the crown of her head, the need to comfort her interrupting any reasonable thoughts in his head. She whispers, “yeah,” so softly that he kisses her again. 

 “During lunch I found a small campground that takes cash. It’s only another few hours; can you make it that far? We can use the tent and the camping mat instead of sleeping in the car.”

 “Luxurious,” she jokes softly, maintaining her firm embrace around his middle. “That sounds perfect.”

 ~~~~

 She’s relentless in her jokes at his expense as he struggles with the tent. It’s dusk, and there’s a decent canopy of trees above him, and, as she points out often, he’s getting old. He struggles to see the small pieces and determine what goes where, and she’s hardly any help as she sits in the car laughing at him as she claims to be recovering from another spell of car sickness. 

 “You could try helping me, you know,” he finally mumbles as the structure collapses again and he’s met with her symphonic laughter. 

 “Need a newer pair of eyes, Captain?” she asks in good humor, standing and bounding towards him confidently. It’s almost miraculous how quickly she’s recovered, and yet her nausea seems to keep coming back. 

 “Very funny, love. Come and tell me where E connects to G.”

 It’s impossible to ignore the way the full moon shines against her hair, almost white in the dim light of the night sky. The gentle waves flow freely as she releases the tie from around her locks, rubbing her palms over her face as she settles into the warm cocoon of the sleeping bag. She gives him a soft, gentle smile as he zips the tent’s opening securely shut, taking his place upon the ground between her and the door. “Where’s yours?” she asks, gesturing down at her sleeping bag and camping mat.

 He shrugs and then nods towards her. “Someone stole it.” 

 Her eyes widen in surprised embarrassment and she asks, “this is yours? What about-- weren’t you and… I mean…” 

 Smiling as he lies down on his back, he turns his head to face her and says, “I was meant to travel alone, actually.”

 Just as he thinks she’s about to match his position and lie back herself, she stirs and begins tugging on the sleeping bag until she’s out of it. She shakes it out in front of herself to straighten it and then feels around in the dark for the zipper, pulling it around the puffy fabric until it’s fully open before her. Turning towards him, she gives him another soft smile and dramatically opens it like a parachute, draping it over the both of them. “There you go,” she says with finality. “We can share.” 

 “You don’t have to do that, love. It’s summer anyway.” 

 “We’re sleeping outside, and you're taking a second, unexpected person on your trip across the country, who also happens to frequently demand pit stops. The least I can do is share your sleeping bag with you.” 

 “Well… thank you, lass. That’s very kind of you.” 

 “I just can’t part with the mat, sorry. The ground is way too hard.”

 He laughs as he turns to his side, silently agreeing with her that the ground is mighty firm as he grimaces. “You can’t spare it for an old man with old bones?” 

 She shrugs, laughing softly as well as she rolls to her side to face him head on. “You're not that old.” 

 “So I'm only young when it suits you?” 

 “I didn’t say you were young.”

 He hasn’t laughed this much in years. Before he met her, he hadn’t been so close to a woman in almost a decade. He’s forgotten how soothing the gentle touch of another can be, and he’s been hard pressed to ignore how especially soothing she is, in particular. “You do have quite the sense of humor, love.” 

 “All in good fun,” she smiles. He catches her gaze shooting down at the hem of the old sleeping bag, her fingers fiddling with some thread that has pulled away from its place. “Will you tell me something?” she asks in a whisper. 

 “What is it?” 

 She clears her throat nervously, continuing to avert her eyes from his, and asks, “will you tell me about your daughter?” 

 With a hum and a sad smile, he bites his bottom lip and nods, the memories of his love flooding back into his mind, as if he’s ever been able to prevent them. “Alice,” he says. “She’s just turned eight a few months ago. I missed her birthday.” 

 “Why? What happened?” 

 He notes the way that her fingers continue to play at the loose threads, and he matches her actions just beside her. “I was with my mother; she was dying and had no one else while Liam was in jail. I wanted to bring Alice with me, but… her mother wouldn’t allow it.” 

 “I’m sorry,” she says immediately. He hears a rustle against the mat her head lies on and lifts his own gaze to meet hers. 

 “Thank you.” 

 “When did you see her last, then?” 

 He gulps over the lump in his throat. “It’s been well over a year.”

 She sighs, and he doesn’t think he imagines the minute amount of space that she closes between them. “You must miss her terribly.”

 “Aye, I do. Everyday.”

 “Is there… I mean, is there a reason it’s been so long? I’m not trying to judge you, I’m sorry, I just—“

 “It’s alright, love,” he interrupts, noting the sudden shift in her demeanor as she realizes the nature of her question. “Her mother was rather… controlling, I suppose. I believe she used drugs and alcohol for much of Alice’s early life. I don’t have any reason to believe she used during her pregnancy, but I cared for Alice from birth when Eloise fell off the wagon. I even named her, after my ailing mother. But a few years later, she got clean and started to take over. She took Alice to live with her; became upset when I came around. And eventually, the way she would scream at me when I tried to visit made Alice upset, so I stopped coming around as much.” 

 She’s quiet for a moment, and he wonders if he’s taken things a bit too far. If he’s opened up to her too much. He fears this for what feels like an eternity as she lies beside him, her warm breath washing over his nose as he thinks the worst. That he’s upset her, that he’s offended her, that he’s made her think of the trauma of being abandoned herself as he describes the way he abandoned his own daughter. And his fears are confirmed when she sniffles softly before him and moves her fingers from the frayed threads to her eyes, wiping tears away. 

 “Emma,” he whispers into the darkness, “I’m sor--”

 “That’s so terrible,” she interrupts sadly, and he bows his head in shame, knowing already that his actions are deplorable. Until she whispers, “I’m so sorry.” 

 “Sorry… for what?” he asks in shock, speaking almost at full volume, a contrast to their whispering tones. 

 “You just--” she sniffs once more, “--it’s obvious how badly you want to be in your daughter’s life, and you haven’t been able to. That’s got to be the worst feeling… I can’t even imagine not being allowed to…”

 Clearing his throat, he takes a risk by reaching before himself to wipe a tear from her soft cheek with his thumb, almost desperate to comfort her as she has him the entire time he’s known her. “It’s alright, love,” he whispers. “I’m going to get her back, with your help. I wouldn’t be here, on my way to her, if it weren’t for you.” 

 She sniffles and laughs at the same time, adorably embarrassed at the sound that escapes her, and asks, “what’s changed now? With you and her mom?” 

 “She died,” he answers simply. If she had begun to relax slightly into his hand, she stiffens at his words. “She relapsed, mixed drugs and alcohol… her body couldn’t handle it.” 

 “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “That must’ve been hard, too.” 

 “Not much,” he answers too quickly. She draws her brows together in question and he continues, “I’m sad for Alice; she’s lost her mother. But she never really had her much. Eloise was never a very devout mother. It always seemed like she was in it for the image, or only when it suited her. I don’t think she ever really wanted a child.” 

 Emma nods gently, the small gap between them getting smaller when a gust of wind shakes the tent and she slides closer to him. “Was she, I mean, was Alice a surprise?” 

 “Oh, aye, very much so,” he laughs softly. “El and I weren’t ever a couple, we just met at a bar and… well, we were only together once. It was sort of a low point for me.” 

 “I get that,” she nods again. “Sleeping with the wrong person, I mean. Not that… I mean, not that Alice was a mistake or anything, of course.” 

 “I know what you mean,” he consoles in a whisper as she again worries that she’s offended him. She should know that she couldn’t possibly say the wrong thing, because despite how short of a time he’s known her, he knows that she can do no wrong in his eyes. 

 “Will you tell me about her? Like… What was it like when she was a baby? Was it very hard?” 

 He hums and nods, agreeing, “it was hard, yes; I was mostly alone. But it was so worth it.” 

 “It was?” she asks softly, almost insecurely and making him narrow his eyes in thought. 

 She hasn’t told him anything, but he isn’t a fool. He means every word of what he says to her next, and says it in hopes that he can give her solace. “Aye. As hard as life has been, I wouldn't change anything because it’s how I got Alice.” 

 In a move that surprises him almost as much as it doesn’t, she moves as close to him as she can and tucks her head into his chest, just below his chin, and wraps her arm around his waist. “That’s a good point,” she murmurs into his sweatshirt.

 “Are you alright, love?” he asks, accepting her into his embrace and letting his hand run along the length of her spine over her own sweatshirt. He reminds himself that he doesn’t truly know her, so he can’t assume that this isn’t like her, but it feels profound. 

 She nods against his chest, pulling herself impossibly closer as she seems to seek more warmth and a firmer embrace. “It’s weird,” she starts, her voice muffled. “I barely know you, but it feels like you're my friend.” 

 “I am your friend,” he agrees with a smile. “And you’re mine. I told you I wouldn’t be here without you.” 

 “I wouldn’t either.” 

 “Of course not. I’ve been driving most of the way.” 

 She snorts, nuzzling her nose into the crook between his neck and his shoulder and squeezing around his waist. “Yeah, that’s why I’ve been puking nonstop.” 

 “Would you like to drive tomorrow, then?” he laughs. 

 “Sure.” 

 “Alright. We’ll need to leave quite early. Just another two days to go, I think.”

 “Okay,” she yawns, falling asleep in his arms feeling, he hopes, as safe as he does.

~~~~

Tagging:

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[casuallyimagining]

A Normal Wednesday

Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Summary: Drunk Jungkook confesses something that Sober Jungkook has to reckon with.

Part of the Long Term Couples series.  Read more here.

Jungkook was drunk.

Not too drunk. He wasn’t swaying or slurring his words or anything like that. But when he spoke, he was just a little too loud, a little too honest, and a lot too talkative. Somehow, he had convinced you to take him back to your apartment rather than the shared dorm where the rest of the guys could take care of him. Normally, this wouldn’t have been a problem. Jungkook stayed over often enough that he had a change of clothes in a backpack stuffed away in your closet, and you never minded having him around.

The problem was more that it was three in the morning, and you had a meeting with upper management--his upper management--at ten. And as much as Bang PD and Manager Sejin loved Jungkook and the boys, you weren’t sure you wanted to test how deeply that love ran.

“Please, Jungkook,” you begged, a soft fourth attempt to get him to quiet down. “I know you have off tomorrow, but I don’t.”

Reasoning with a drunk. The first sign of your apparent insanity.

Jungkook giggled at you, his bunny teeth peeking out from between his slightly parted lips. His head was resting heavily against your shoulder as the two of you lounged on your couch. You had given up on trying to coax him to bed an hour ago, choosing instead to attempt to placate him with a movie. If I can sleep through his snoring, I can sleep through a movie, you had told yourself.

Had it just been the movie drawing your attention, you may have succeeded.

Shortly after Jungkook legally was able to drink, you learned that he was a needy drunk. He didn’t just want your attention, he craved it, and he was willing to go to increasingly annoying lengths to get what he needed. Which is partially how you found yourself with an arm slung around his shoulders as he absent-mindedly played with your hand and told you about his day. It was all horribly domestic, and if it wasn’t 3:05 on a Wednesday morning, you would probably even think it was cute.

“Jin-hyung is surprisingly good at table hockey,” Jungkook said earnestly, tracing the heart line on your palm. “Even after I accidentally hit him with the puck.”

“I’m glad you had fun.” You stifled a yawn and rested your head against his own. “Jin takes those games far too seriously.”

You felt him nod against you. “It was fun. I wish you could have seen how bad Yoongi-hyung is at the games. He’s like… really bad.”

You hummed, attempting to close your eyes. It seemed that, now that he was done telling you about filming that afternoon, Jungkook was starting to calm down. You could feel your eyes start to droop closed, and you prayed that whatever higher power would take pity on you that sleep would come quickly.

A few moments of silence passed between you, the tv still playing the movie Jungkook had started and promptly forgot about. For a moment, you thought maybe he had turned his attention back to it--it was his favorite, after all--but when you ventured a peek at him, his gaze was in his lap. He had stopped playing with your fingers, his own tattooed hand now solidly engulfing yours. You closed your eyes again, snuggling in. If he was going to trap you on the couch, the least you could do was get comfortable.

Hopefully, he would sleep.

Unfortunately, that was wishful thinking, as not even a second later, Jungkook was whispering your name. You hummed in response, not even bothering to open your eyes.

“I’m really drunk,” he confessed.

“I know. Go to sleep.”

He started to play with your fingers again, but now, you could feel the nervous energy practically rolling off him. “I shouldn’t tell you this, but you’re my best friend-”

If you could bring yourself to open your eyes, you would have rolled them. “I know, Koo-”

“But you’re more than that, too.”

“What?”

“I just mean that...” You felt him shift, and he mumbled a soft ‘I’m way too drunk for this,’ before continuing. “I just mean that… I dunno. I feel like there’s something more here. Best friends don’t do this.”

You opened your eyes just enough to see that he was gesturing to the space--or rather, the lack of space--between you. “Sure they do.”

“Then why do I get butterflies every time you walk into a room?”

Oh.

Shit.

“You’re drunk.”

He giggled at that, and he adjusted himself so that he could look at you while still laying against your side. You could feel your heart racing, and you hoped that Jungkook couldn’t feel it, too. Drunk or not, he would almost certainly tease you mercilessly about it.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I don’t mind. We can still be friends.” Jungkook nodded, and you couldn’t tell if he was trying harder to convince you or himself that his words were true. He pulled himself closer to you, then, nuzzling his nose into your neck. “Promise me we can still be friends?”

You were speechless, but you held out your pinky to him. His longer one wrapped around it, and you could feel him smile against your skin as he shook your hands up and down. When he was satisfied with your pinky promise, he let you go, choosing instead to wrap his arm around your middle.

“You should get some sleep.” Finally, you could hear a hint of exhaustion in his voice. “You have a meeting in the morning.”

You had to admit: sleeping on the couch wasn’t your brightest idea. Your neck was sore, and you were pretty sure that the pain in your lower back would be there until you died. It didn’t help that extricating yourself from Jungkook’s grasp was almost more difficult than getting him to fall asleep.

He had woken up briefly when you tried to slide out of his iron-tight grasp, but thankfully, you were able to lull him back to sleep by playing with his hair. After that, it had been smooth sailing, and you were actually able to stop for coffee before your meeting.

Truthfully, you weren’t sure what you would be returning to. You had left a Post-It on his phone offering to let him ride out his hangover in your apartment since it would be quiet. But when you hadn’t heard from him into the afternoon, you wondered if he had just gone back to the dorm.

You hoped he wasn’t too embarrassed. Publicly, he oozed confidence. But privately, when Jungkook got overwhelmed, he tended to shut down, especially if he was feeling particularly unsure of himself.

As you drove home, you thought about what he had said the previous night. He was right, of course. The two of you never acted in a way that said anything more than ‘best friends,’ but it was the feelings behind the actions that mattered. And at some point, though you weren’t exactly sure when, the Jungkook-sized place in your heart had shifted ever so slightly.

You weren’t stupid. The man would make a great partner. He was handsome, sure, but more than that, he was kind, and he was loving, and he put the people he loved ahead of anything else. He cared purely,and unceasingly with every fibre of his being. When he hung around other people, you tried to pass off the pit in your stomach as jealousy that he was making new friends, but maybe there was something more to it.

When you opened your door, his boots were still where you had placed them neatly the night before. You weren’t sure if that made you more relieved or stressed. You kicked your shoes off and hung your keys and your bag on the hook in the hallway, trying to be as quiet as possible just in case Jungkook was trying to sleep.

He wasn’t--or, if he was, he was failing. You found him in your living room curled up into the corner of your couch, a blanket draped over him. He was watching the movie from last night--Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind--and he was clutching one of the pillows from your bed. He must’ve grabbed it sometime after you left. Your heart fluttered at the sight.

You decided you were glad he was still there.

“How’s Clementine?” you questioned, leaning against the back of the couch directly behind Jungkook.

He hummed. “She’s in love. For now.”

On a normal day, he would have tugged you down beside him to finish watching the movie, or he would have paused it and followed you into the kitchen to grab a snack. But today, he sat still, his fingers twisting and untwisting the blanket, his eyes trained on the television. You sighed softly and ruffled his hair before making your way into the kitchen.

It wasn’t that you were disappointed. Really, you weren’t sure what you were expecting. But seeing him treat you differently stung a bit. You liked to think that your friendship with Jungkook was unshakeable--god knows you’d been through so much in six years. You were there to cheer him on at his high school graduation, for the highest of highs and the lowest of lows in his career, to help him make sense of the group almost disbanding. He hadn’t changed then, so it was hard to see him change now.

But he was still there, in your apartment. That wasn’t nothing.

So you grabbed a bottle of water and trudged back into the living room, just in time to see Joel and Clementine sitting on the steps on the beach in Montauk.

“Never liked this part,” you admitted, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch from him.

Jungkook hummed, and you could see him looking at you out of the corner of his eye. “It’s sad. If only he could have shared his true feelings with her.”

“I think he does, though.” This topic of conversation was not new. You and Jungkook had discussed Joel and Clementine’s relationship before. “Maybe his life really isn’t that interesting.”

“But if he weren’t that interesting, don’t you think she’d notice?”

“Maybe not. He’s interesting because of her.” He turned his head to stare at you, but you just shrugged. “He’s a book nerd. He goes to work and goes home. His life only has meaning because she’s in it. That’s all.”

His brows furrowed. “Have you been watching this without me?”

“You wish.” You snorted out a laugh and rolled your eyes. “I don’t even like it that much.”

“Then why don’t you complain when we watch it?”

You could feel the tension in the room dissipate slightly. Whatever funk he had been in earlier seemed to have left the moment you started talking about Clem and Joel. You sighed, still trying to determine if you wanted to broach this subject.

You liked your friendship with Jungkook. He knew almost everything about you. It was nice. It was home. Maybe it would be better to just leave well enough alone. Then again...

“Because it’s what best friends do,” you said softly, crossing your legs on the sofa so that you were facing him. “Just like they stay up ‘till three-thirty in the morning listening to their drunk friend ramble about arcade games.”

He ducked his head and laughed sheepishly. “I’m glad you made it to your meeting on time.”

“Let’s not sleep on the couch again for a while. I woke up and I felt like I aged 50 years.”

“Sober Jungkook does not make promises for Drunk Jungkook.” He laughed, pulling his legs up so he was hugging his knees facing you. He fell silent, and you watched as, after a moment, his smile fell and the gears started turning in his head.

You gave him time to process his thoughts, your focus shifting to the final scene of the movie--Joel and Clementine in Joel’s car, listening to the tape of Clem’s memories.

“You know,” you began tentatively. “I’m a book nerd. I go to work and come home. My life really isn’t that interesting.”

Jungkook’s eyes met yours briefly, and after a moment, you could see the lightbulb turn on. “Are you saying that I’m your Clementine?”

“Not in as many words. And not exactly. But…” You shrugged.

“No.” His face scrunched up in disagreement. “No way. I’m not your Clementine. We’re nowhere near as-”

“Jungkook,” you cut him off with a sigh. “In the six years I’ve known you, I have been in your orbit. I’ve traveled the world because I have the happy misfortune of assisting Sejin-oppa and managing your social media presence. I go out because you ask me to. I stay in because you want to. I hang out with your friends, eat your favorite foods, watch your favorite movies.” You couldn’t help the small smile threatening to show itself. “My life would not be this interesting without you in it.”

You watched him chew on his bottom lip in thought. “So what are you saying? Because if I’m Clementine and you’re Joel… I’ve seen this movie, and I’m not sure I like how it ends.”

“Maybe. Or maybe it won’t end the same way.” You moved closer so that your knees were barely a foot from Jungkook’s shins. “We could try, and we could fail spectacularly. We could do nothing and fall apart anyway. It happens. Friends drift.” Gingerly, you took his hand from where it clutched his knee. You were quiet as you traced over the micro-tattoos that covered his skin. Finally, you took a breath and continued. “Or, we could try, and we could succeed.”

“I don’t want us to fall apart like Clem and Joel do.” His voice was soft, timid. You hadn’t heard him this scared since the band meetings in 2018 that almost separated the group.

“I have more faith in us than I do in Clem and Joel.”

“But what if we end up hating each other?”

“I can’t think of anything I don’t like about you right now.”

Jungkook smiled at that, and honestly, you were a little impressed with yourself. You didn’t think you had seen the movie enough to pull quotes like that out of your ass.

“But you could, though.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You could end up hating me because I’m-”

“You’re obnoxious. You don’t take no for an answer. You’re the loudest eater on this side of the universe. You get drunk and keep me up to three-thirty in the morning.” You laughed, surprised at how happy you sounded. “Koo, I’m already over the moon with you. You’re my best friend. If I couldn’t handle that, do you really think we would be here right now?”

“But what if it makes things weird?”

“Things are already going to be weird. We passed weird a long fucking time ago, bub. This shit here,” you poked his knee for emphasis. “Is uncharted territory. And there’s no going back.”

His brow furrowed, and you watched him chew on his lip again. “Doesn’t that scare you?”

“I’m fucking terrified,” you admitted. His eyes went wide as he looked at you. “But… god, I knew from the moment I met you that I would always be in your corner. I trust you, Koo. You haven’t let me down yet.”

Jungkook sighed, his bottom lip back between his teeth. He shifted, then, so that his legs were crossed, your knees pressed together. You wished you knew what he was thinking.

You weren’t lying when you said there was no going back. And if you were honest with yourself, you knew that if he declined, you would be crushed.

His dark eyes met yours, the little crease between his eyebrows appearing and disappearing as his focus shifted around your face. It was as if he was studying you, trying to commit things to memory.

“Okay,” he said softly, his eyes darting away from you.

“Okay?”

Jungkook nodded, leaning forward to grab your hand. It was quiet, the only sound being Beck singing “Everybody’s Gotta Learn Sometime” as the credits to the movie rolled. He shifted then, tugging you closer so you ended up leaning into his side. At first, you were a little surprised at how absolutely normal it felt to be cuddled up in his side. He slung his arm around your shoulders while casually searching for another movie to watch, and you tangled your legs together.

Perhaps things had technically changed, but it felt like just a normal Wednesday.

Read more of the series here

[yoongi-sugaglider]

Daegu Quarantine

Jungkook x reader

Gang/ zombie apocalypse au

Warnings:

Gore, violence, zombies, mention of drugs and drug dealing, weapons discharge in self defense, main character death, zombies, course language, zombies, drinking, did I mention zombies?

Summary:

They were the top of their game, known throughout the city as the smartest and most dangerous crew to ever hit the Daegu streets. But what’s going to happen when this group of young men encounter something right out of a horror film?

Word count: 2640

Part 15===Part 16===Part 17

The next handful of days became a blur of activity. Well, more so for the others than for me.

Hoseok and I had been ordered to strict bedrest, which only one of us actually took seriously. While I sat in bed most of the day, watching movies on my laptop or vegging out on as many snacks as I could convince Jeanette to bring me, Hoseok on the other hand snuck by Jimin as often as possible to help the boys with various projects around the house.

The only reason I even found out is because every few hours I’d hear Jimin fussing at him all the way up the stairs and back to the bodyguard’s bedroom.

I sat with Jeanette, Rose, and Jimin one afternoon, chatting away with them while Jimin checked my leg wound when Jungkook wandered into the bedroom, a stoic look on his face as he sat at his computer desk and turned to stare blankly at my injured leg.

“Something on your mind boss?” Jimin asked as he cinched the bandage tight and turned to begin putting his tools away in his bag.

“Mmm…” 

The noncommittal sound drew my attention and I frowned at him, worry creasing my forehead as I reached my hand over to the small throw pillow I’d been using to prop up my injured leg.

“Oi! Earth to Jeon!” I yelled, tossing the pillow overhand at him. He caught it midair, never breaking eye contact with my leg as he tossed it onto the floor beside him.

“We can’t let Eun Kwang get away with this…” He muttered, the stoic look dissolving into a frown when he finally met my eyes.

“We’ve talked about this Kookie. There’s no point to trying to retaliate. We have no idea where they’re holed up. Nor how many of them there are or what kind of fire power they’re packing.” I leaned forward, pulling my pajama pant leg down and leaning back into the headboard.

“If we had even a sliver of that information…”

“Jungkook please…” I whispered, eyes pleading with him to drop it.

He growled, shoving his way out of the chair and to his feet. Fists clenched at his sides he glared at me, though the moment didn’t last long as his gaze softened.

I shook my head, nodding to Jeanette and Rose. “We have far too much on the line to risk even one of us getting dropped because of some half thought out revenge scheme. Jungkook, going out there would be suicide.”

“You wouldn’t leave a girl widowed before you’ve even gotten a chance to marry her boss, would ya?” Jimin’s quiet words seemed to do the trick.

Jungkook stared at him with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape as if he’d had half a mind to argue with the words from the wise doctor. But after a moment of fish bowling he shut his mouth, shaking his head with a resigned sigh.

“No...you’re both right. It’s hot headed and foolishness that’d get me killed before I even made it halfway there.” He bowed his head for a moment, eyes closed as he inhaled slowly.

“See, Tae said you were a smart man.” Rose grinned at him, standing from the bed and patting him on his arm. “Come on bud, let’s get some food in ya. I bet you haven’t eaten all day have ya?”

I snorted at the two, waving them off and thanking Jimin for his hard work. The room quickly cleared out, leaving just me and Jeanette to ruminate in our thoughts for a bit while I shifted around in bed trying to find a comfortable spot to mope in.

“Hey y/n?” Came the whispered voice of Jeanette, causing me to pause in my movements.

“What’s up?” A smile came to my lips as I watched the timid woman worrying at the hem of her shirt.

“Well umm… I was talking to Jin this morning while we worked on breakfast...about the pantry and stuff?”

I nodded as she paused, motioning for her to continue when she glanced over to me with a look of worry.

“Well, it’s just that… Yes, we have an amazing pantry. MRE’s keep for ages and so do canned goods. But like...wouldn’t it be nice to have fresh produce?” When I remained silent and smiling at her words her face lit up.

She began talking faster, turning in place to sit cross legged before me. She pulled the pillow I’d discarded earlier into her lap to protect the tiny protrusion of her belly as she spoke at length about her plans.

“Since there aren’t that many of us it wouldn’t have to be that big at first. And of course it would take a while for anything to grow. But just imagine, come fall we could have all kinds of amazing fresh veggies. Corn, carrots, tomatoes and potatoes. I could even manage cucumbers and watermelon if we could find things for the vines to climb.”

I leaned forward, taking her hands in mine and running my thumbs reassuringly across the ridges of her knuckles as she spoke, watching the idea grow bigger and bigger within her. The passion in her voice alone had me picturing the enclosed area, teaming with life and greenery and her tiny plump form tending to the plants as she coo’d at them as if they were her own children.

As she began outlining plans for bird proof netting she paused though, mouth curved into a gentle O of surprise and if I didn’t know any better, fear as her head whipped to the door to stare at Yoongi who’d been watching us...well her, talk this whole time.

“Oh...Yoongi I…” She bowed her head, seeming to shrink in on herself as if seeing the man had taken the wind out of her sails.

“Go on…” He whispered, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe with an encouraging smile.

“It’s just….Jin told me to ask Hoseok, who pointed me to Jungkook, who told me to ask you...and well.”

“Jeanette…” My smile only grew when her gaze finally mine. Hope began shining in her eyes and it seemed that the entirety of her frame lit up with our shared excitement.

“I love the idea. Honestly. We can get Namjoon to draw up your plans. He’s basically a genius so I’m sure he could engineer it to be the second safest place in Daegu. And since we’ve been having issues with Hoseok sitting still for long enough, he can be on duty for helping you till the soil or anything else that you might need.”

“I’ll be there to help as well…”

I glanced over to Yoongi and he grinned at the shocked look on my face.

“All of my end of things is done. You can’t exactly expect me to sit on my thumbs while cleaning my weapons all day now can you?”

Jeanette giggled at his words, gingerly lifting herself from the bed and smoothing out the black YG shirt that drowned her figure, another of Yoongi’s favorite shirts.

“Thank you y/n. Really I mean it. I was worried that I wasn’t able to contribute enough to everything that was going on and well...with this…”

“Hey now, we talked about this.” Yoongi walked over, wrapping her in a side hug and tracing his fingers down the bare skin of her arm. “You’re doing plenty enough. Between laundry and helping Jin cook all the meals?”

“Exactly.” I chimed in, shifting to my side a bit so I could send her a less pained smile. “Nobody in this house thinks you’re a burden in any way. And if they even think it I’ll tell Jungkook to beat them up on the spot.”

Yoongi snickered, sending me another grin. “He’d do it too, no questions asked. So don’t worry your pretty little head about it, yeah?”

She nodded after a moment’s hesitation.

“Well, alright then. It’s settled.” He began steering her towards the door, shooting me one last grateful smile. “Let’s get those plans started on. Let the boss lady get herself some rest.

As my bedroom door shut behind them, I couldn’t help but to wonder when and how they’d gotten so close.

***

By dinner time I’d managed to convince Jimin to let me down to the basement. Everyone was off doing their own thing and frankly sitting alone to eat in the bedroom again had made me so nauseous just thinking about it that I’d almost opted to skip dinner all together. But he’d seen the desperate plea in my eyes and relented, barring that I allowed Jungkook to carry me down there.

I sat with Taehyung and Rose, munching away at my meal as I watched them giggle over stories they shared of when they’d first met.

“It was a coding nightmare. I’d only been working for the main office for two months when they put his case in my lap. Some young kid that’d managed to bully his way into the Seoul Police department’s criminal database and posted all of the corrupt politicians with arrest warrants and speeding ticket fees to every news site that he could get his grubby little hands on.” Rose cackled, throwing her head back as her entire body shook with the force of her laugh.

“Hey! That was some of my best work!” Taehyung pouted, tossing a wayward green bean in her direction and causing her to snort harder.

“Best work? You had everything so scrambled from that little backdoor snipe that it took their tech department 2 years to set everything straight.” She shook her head, popping the betrayed green bean in her mouth before tossing one of her own in his direction.

He caught it in his mouth easily, smirking all the while before continuing his rant. “It was the art job that did me in.”

“Art job?” I leaned forward, almost instantly regretting the movement when a rib shifted and sent a spike of pain shooting through my chest.

“Shit, you good?” Tae asked, looking as if he was half way to dropping everything to come to my rescue.

I waved him off, shoving a hand over the cursed injury and grinning despite the pain.

“I’m fine. Now come on, tell me about the art job!”

Rose snorted, placing her plate beside her and leaning back on her hands to give Tae a coy smile. “It was why I call him Art Nerd. He decided it would be a good idea to hack into the archives of one of the biggest art museums in the world.”

“You wouldn’t believe it!” Tae tossed up his hands, all angst and agitation as he stood abruptly and began pacing the room. “Of all the places you would think that would be trustworthy about their pieces and whether they were authentic or not. The Louvre!!” He paused in his pacing, pointing angrily to his computer before spinning on his heels to scowl at me when I began snickering.

“Did you know…” He paused, stalking closer and bending forward to glare in my face, “that 87% of all the art in the Louvre is fake?”

I gasped, feigning shock at the revelation.

“That’s right! It’s a travesty! They spit on the names of the greatest artists to have ever walked the face of this planet!” He growled, turning from me to begin pacing again. “The nerve of those imbeciles. Displaying Van Gogh forgeries as if they were the real deal.”

“Needless to say when he tried to tell the world what he found out he got caught.” Rose shook her head, picking at the last of her mashed potatoes with her fork.

She glanced over at me, sly smile broadening into a full grin.

“Did you know he was wanted in 27 countries for that little debacle?”

“Tae!!!” I gasped, eyes wide as I stared at him in awe.

He shrugged, literally beaming at this point with pride though he tried to play it off as bashfulness.

Rose pointed behind me and I shifted around to stare.

“Wait…” My eyes widened with equal parts horror and pride as I whipped my head around to glare at Taehyung. “Tae...you didn’t!!”

This time he couldn’t disguise the pride. He bounded around the sofa, skidding to a stop before what I had previously thought was just a bunch of band posters. There, hanging on the wall was what Tae had told us long ago was a quilt that his grandmother had given him.

He’d sworn that he’d remove the hands of anyone who ever dared touch it. Hell he’d chased Jungkook halfway to downtown Daegu once for nudging it with his shoulder during one of the boy’s many playful basement wrestling matches. But as he slowly and reverently lifted the blanket I quickly realized the real reason why he treasured it so much. Right there on the wall, hanging between two trashy band posters was…

“Tae is that Starry Night?? Like… the actual real fucking deal Starry Night?????” I screeched.

“I couldn’t help it. When I found out they’d hung it between two forgeries I just knew I had to save it.” He lovingly traced his fingers above the protective glass, never actually touching it but making the motions nonetheless.

Rose muttered behind me, snickering into her hand as Tae dropped the quilt back into place and turned to frown at her.

“What was that Jangmi?” he growled, his already baritone voice dropping as he walked back to stand over her.

She squeaked, shrinking back as he crouched down and lifted her chin with a single finger so that she was forced to look him in the eyes.

“I said...I...hnnggg…” The brilliant blush rushing to her cheeks had me bursting with laughter, gripping my sides as I pressed myself into the sofa.

“Damn you two are adorable.” I wheezed, wiping at my tears as I watched the two hackers spring apart as if they’d forgotten I was there.

Tae gathered up our dishes, muttering to himself all the while as he disappeared upstairs. But not before I spotted his own crimson cheeked grin.

“Huh…” Rose muttered. I returned my attention to her, realizing quickly that she was now staring at the security feed pulled up on the tv before us.

“What’s up?” I asked, eyes darting over the various live images before settling on one that showed Jeanette and Seokjin talking in the area they’d decided would be the future garden.

“I thought I saw something.” Came Rose’s absent minded reply. She clicked on the video I’d been watching, bringing it up to fill the screen and squinting at a corner of the shed beside the unaware pair.

“Are you sure?” I whispered, straining to make anything out in the depths of the shadows.

“Maybe not… Tae’s better at security monitoring than I am… Let me just…”

She began typing rapidly, a series of commands appearing on screen before a top down view of the area appeared.

“Is that…”

“A live satellite view, yeah. I figured, I’ve got access to them, why not use them…” She clicked again, zooming in rapidly before suddenly screaming. “Oh shit! There’s chatterers outside the fucking gates!”

“The fuck did you just say!?”

We both screamed as Jungkook charged around the sofa, appearing as if from nowhere and grabbing Rose’s arm in a death grip.

“What do you mean there’s chatterers outside the gates?” Jungkook glared at Rose, the hardened criminal in him causing her to cower as far back as his grip would allow her.

“Kook…”

“I’m sorry okay! I was wondering what it was that I’d seen in the backyard, and when I switched to the satellite feed I saw them. It’s at least 30 of them. Jungkook, we’re surrounded!”

[kirausamaria]

A fun payback (Stolitz Fanfic)

Ok, I’m sorry, I had to wrote this! It was some innuendos and curses but it’s not really NSFW. It’s hard to write when you got the horny bird in a fanfic. Anyways, please let me know how did I do, because it’s my first fanfic ever. I plan to draw some stuff for the post too as soon as my studies finish.

   This time Stolas had something different in mind for Blitzo.

   He wasn’t the type of person to get easily flustered as anyone may expect, but after that “Stolas goes brrrr…” and “poor wardrobe choice” incidents on Instagram, he felt like getting some retaliation for that. Not that it was angry or anything like that, in fact, this was a good chance for him to try something new with his little imp.

   “Sooo, you want to be on top this time I suppose”, Blitzo said while staring at Stolas finishing his job, that was tying him from his wrists and legs to the bed. He had done this several times before so Blitzo wasn’t alarmed or anything. The only thing that seemed unusual was the fact that he was tied down in bed still with his underwear on, normally Stolas would have him completely naked at the instant he got his hands on him.

   “Well, we’ll see about that my dear. It’ll all depend on how you’ll end up feeling at the end”, Stolas replied with an eager smile.

   “Ugh, whatever, let’s just get over with it and do it quickly”, Blitzo answered with an uninterested tone in his voice.

   “I’m afraid to tell you, my dear Blitzy, I plan to take my time on this occasion”.

   Blitzo just stared at him with a puzzled face. He would never admit it, but it was difficult to see Stolas directly on the face sometimes, his eyes weren’t just deeply red, but reflecting such a warm feeling... a charming feeling, maybe? Stolas's genuine smile when staring at him made him feel something inside, but he would never admit that those feelings were something similar to “love”.

   Stolas started caressing Blitzo’s skin as softly as he could, starting from his tied wrists to slowly going down to his chest. Blitzo started to squirm and tried to hold back some moans, it was starting to feel good, but he was too stubborn to let Stolas know that too easily. Stolas then started to caress his torso up and down, focusing on his sides this time, and the pleasant feelings started to change a little. Blitzo squirmed more than at the beginning.

   “Unhg, umph...mmm!”

   “What’s wrong my Blitzy? Doesn’t this feel good?” Stolas asked while grinning a little.

   “Could you just stop fu*king around and go to the next thing?”, Blitzo struggled to say.

   “Why should we stop this? Does it feel weird? Am I possibly making you feel... ticklish?”

   Then Blitzo suddenly realized what this mischievous bird planned to do to him. That a**hole! He planned to do that to me all along! He thought to himself. It’s now he wouldn’t enjoy being tickled as a show of affection with a partner, but with Stolas...we just didn’t like to show any kind of vulnerability in front of him. He wouldn’t admit he’s ticklish or that he likes to be tickled to Stolas, he would never let this go for sure if he did.

   “Come on my little imp, don’t be shy, just show me your real feelings to me and enjoy this experience. It will make you feel so much better”.

   “Ah, shut the f*ck up you freaking bird!” Blitzo yelled. He was trying so hard not to build a smile in his face, the tickling feelings were starting to build up. 

   Stolas chuckled. “You’re such a stubborn creature. I can’t deny it, that is one of the qualities that attracted me about you in the first place, but some honesty wouldn’t hurt, don’t you think?”.

   Blitzo couldn’t run away from Stolas, he knew it, but at the same time he didn’t just lose against him, not giving him the satisfaction of doing what he wanted. But when Stolas started to use his claws against his skin, he just broke.

   “Pfff! Hehehe! Nohohohoho!” Blitzo 

   “See? I know you’d go around!”, Stolas said when scratching Blitzo’s upper arms. “Doesn't it feel much better to just laugh and enjoy it?”

    “F-f you Stolas!” Blitzo whined. He was unable to stop himself from laughing anymore, and Stolas had started to use rougher tickles against him.

   He then felt Stolas’ claws skittering every area of his torso, and also his stomach. Blitzo became really jumpy in that place, and Stolas noticed.

   “Oh, that’s why you squirm everytime I kiss you on your stomach”, Stolas said while holding his laugh. “So what about this?”

    Blitzo almost squealed when Stolas started kissing and scratching his belly at the same time.

   “Nohohohohoho, don’t do that!”

  “Why not? It doesn’t feel good? But I’m having so much fun right now”, Stolas replied. Looking at him Blitzo could tell he was saying the truth, but it tickled so bad he didn’t know if he could keep going with this game, not that he hated seeing Stolas enjoying things, though. Also, the way Stolas kissed him wasn’t bad, he actually was a good kisser, but on his stomach his kisses were unbearable.

    Stolas then started scratching Blitzo’s underarms and that was also a pretty bad spot. Blitzo couldn’t stop his cackling laugh to come out. 

    “Ahahahahaha! Don’t! Not there please!”

   “Oh, starting begging so soon?”

   “I’m not begging you pompous piece of sh*t!”

   “Oh, alright, I understand, it was just a reflex, wasn’t it? You’re actually having fun, don’t you?” Stolas cooed.

   “I’m nohohohohot!” He screamed, not admitting this was kind of fun. 

   “Blitzi, you are so cute, you know that?”, Stolas said with the most sincere voice he could make. He softly leaned down to Blitzo’s neck, which he knew was really sensitive, and started kissing and nibbling it while still tickling his underarms.

   “No my neeehheehck! At least forgive my neeehehehck! I cahahahan’t….!”

   “Blitzo actually loved to be softly kissed in his neck, his feathers also would tickle him and make him melt when Stolas did it, but he would always put a facade of seriousness so he wouldn’t realize that, but Stolas was very clever, he knew Blitzo’s true feelings when having intimacy every full moon with him.

   Stolas stopped in order to let Blitzo breathe. Blitzo was still laughing a little while catching up some air. When he was able to talk again, he said:

   “Why are you always like this Stolas, doing whatever you want…”

   “Uhm? Aren’t our encounters also enjoyable to you?” Stolas asked tilting his head to one side in a question gesture. “Well, to be completely honest with you I’ve always wondered how do you look when you smile, not your everyday smug smile, just a pure, genuine smile...and also how does your laugh sound when you are amused. Every night we meet I have the hope you’ll show that cute smile to me, and when I think I finally got to make you smile, you just look away from me and hide your true feelings”.

   Blitzo was looking at him while listening to all that. Stola’s face showed a little sad smile and he felt his heart shrinking a little. Was he feeling moved? That’s impossible, he said to myself, but he felt Stolas didn’t mean any  harm when playing with him this way.

    But Blitzo is still Blitzo, so…

   “Well, it’s not like I can just laugh in front of you that easily, or look at you in the eyes all the time...just, I don’t hate you or anything, do you get it?”

   Stolas noticed Blitzo was looking a little flustered. 

   “So can we keep having fun for a little more then?”, Stolas asked, with the purest smile he could make. Blitzo was hesitating but…

   “Well, I, uhm…”. Blitzo was kind of trapped in this game already and he wasn’t against some more tickling for the sake of making Stolas happy and having some fun (this thought would never come out of his mouth though). He stared at him and said: “Well, maybe just this time is ok...I guess”.

   There was a big smile on Stolas’ face, he jumped off from the bed and went to his vanity, quickly opened and closed a drawer and came back to where Blitzo was laying. Blitzo was getting both scared and excited at the same time, again trying not to show a nervous anticipating smile.

   Stolas showed him a fancy crystal bottle. He slowly opened and started to pour what it was inside on Blitzo’s chest. It was some herb scented oil.

   “Oh no, onohohohono!”, Blitzo said while nervously giggling at the thought of what it was about to happen. He felt Stolas’ hand sensually spreading the warm oil in all his upper body, making him squirm again. It already tickled so bad when doing this he couldn’t stop his voice from coming out.

��   “Please, don’t do it!” Blitzo yelled, but he was unconsciously smiling because of the excitement.

   “I’ll just play for a while, I promise”, Stolas’ answered, while digging Blitzo’s ribs.

   “NOHHOHOHOHOHOHO! STAHAHAHAHAHAP! Blitzo screamed, arching his back trying to get away from Stolas’ claws, but he was really good tied, so he couldn’t move that much.

    “Why, my dear? Doesn’t it feel much better now, to laugh at your heart’s content? You’re getting so much attention tonight, you little greedy imp”.

     “THIIIS NOHOHOT THE ATTENTION I NEHEHEED!, Blitzo replied, truly laughing this time, while his tail was wagging, a sign that an imp is relaxed or happy.

   “Aww, don’t be shy Blitzi, just stop thinking that much and enjoy it! If you do I will let you do the same to me next time”. He took Blitzo’s tail and started to scratch its tip. Blitzo was going crazy, but he was still able to answer back.

    “I PROHOMISE I WIIILL TICKLE YOU TO DEHEHEATH THAHAHAHT DAY FOR SUURE!  AHAHAHAH!”

   “Can’t wait”, Stolas answered with a singing voice.

  “STOP WIHIHITH THE FU*KING SINGING VOICE ALREADY!” Blitzo practically shrieked, while Stolas was now squeezing his hips and sides.

   “Why, does that make you more ticklish?”, Stolas crooned. “What if I keep doing it while tickling your weakest spot?”

   Blitzo panicked, he knew what it was coming: Stolas grabbed some more oil for his hands and started to slowly run his claws from Blitzo’s hips to his underarms and neck.

   “Nohohohohoho, I swear I’ll kill you if you…!”

  Stolas started digging Blitzo’s underarms, making him shriek with laughter. His head started to get blank.

   “STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!”

   “I love your laugh so much, Blitzi”, Stolas now laughing at Blitzo’s strong reactions, “And your tail wiggling with such joy, it just melts my heart”.

   Blitzo’s looking so vulnerable and helpless laughing like this while being tied up was actually really cute.

   Stolas would alternate the tickling on his neck and underarms, then again nibbling and kissing his neck while scratching his whole body, now ten times more sensitive because of the oil.

    “NOHOHHOH, NOHOHO MY NEEECK! I’M GONNA FUC*ING DIE!”

    Blitzo started to shed tears from the laughing, his head completely in a daze.

    “AHAHAHAHAHAHAH! *hic* HAHAHAHAH! *hic*.

   When he started whining and weezing instead of laughing Stolas knew it was enough for tonight, so he stopped.

       Blitzo was coughing and giggling for a whole minute, completely exhausted.

    “You did a good job Blitzi! I really had fun”, Stolas praised Blitzo for his endurance while kissing him on his cheek and forehead.

     Blitzo wouldn’t admit it, but he also thought it had been a little fun, until the almost dying feeling part.

      “I fuc*ing hate you Stolas”, Blitzo was barely able to say, still with some tears in his eyes.

   Stolas was smiling a lot. At least he had his payback.

   “You know? We should play like this more often”. Stolas said while untying Blitzo. “It would help you to relieve some stress from work and it’s a fun way of foreplay. Also laughing is good for your…”.

   Stolas didn’t realize until looking at Blitzo that he was sound asleep.  Blitzo was just exhausted in order to do anything, but peacefully  snoring in bed.

   Stolas just chuckled, staring at this cute picture for a while before covering him with his sheets and curling up at his side, hugging him.

   “Well, I guess we’ll have our little fun until morning”, Stolas thought.

   “Really, Blitzy, you have no idea how much I love you”.

   Stolas then kissed Blitzo’s shoulder and back of his neck, making him smile a little while still sleeping.

[reifromrfa]

Surprises: Vanderwood x MC | Mysme RBB fic

Hi guys! I’m sure you’ve seen this project in the fandom, there are a lot of talented artists and writers who are a part of it ^^ This piece is for the @mysme-rbb and it was such a thrill to write it! I’ve missed writing for the fandom and I’m glad I got this opportunity to do so <3 Even luckier that I got paired with two amazing artists! 

For this first collab, I got paired with the wonderful GLX ! Please check out their instagram HERE!  We’re super lucky to have collaborated on a character we both love: Vanderwood! So I hope you enjoy the story and I hope I can write for everyone again soon ヾ(@^▽^@)ノ PS: I’ll edit this post with the link to the art once it’s out! ^^

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Surprises

In collaboration with gl.artsy 

"Hurry!"

Vanderwood chuckles and closes the car door, hoisting bags and baskets on his arms and shoulders. MC laughs and hugs the beach towels to her chest, grinning widely.

"Sorry...I'm a little excited," her grin turns sheepish but Vanderwood shakes his head, his smile mirroring her own. Seeing her this happy makes him feel things he hasn't felt before --pleasant feelings. Feelings...that a secret agent just doesn't have the luxury to be thinking about, much less feel. But he's not a secret agent anymore --he has a legal job now, one where he doesn't have to risk his life everyday or dirty his hands. Hell, the dirtiest his hands can get with his new job as Jumin's bodyguard is cleaning up after his cat.

With his free hand, he reaches for hers and weaves their fingers together.

Today is their one-year anniversary and Vanderwood wants everything to be absolutely perfect. He's not one for grand gestures and romantic stuff, but he knows celebrations like these matter to girls.

In the past year he's been with MC, he's gotten used to watching those cheesy romantic chick flicks. Never in his life did he imagine he'd be forced to watch those kinds of shi--stuff. But he's braved through The Notepad, A Stroll to Remember, Crazy Silly Love...and he's learned a lot from those movies. For one, his girlfriend ends up crying every time they watch the shows together.

Every. Single. Time.

But he'd see how immersed she is in the scenes where the guys make a big move for the girl. Vanderwood would notice how she heaves a deep sigh and wipes her eyes, a dreamy smile on her face.

Ha...he's new to this relationship thing but he's not stupid; Vanderwood knows how this works. The bigger the gesture, the happier MC will be...

...right?

He's startled out of his thoughts when MC tugs his hand, pointing at a spot on the beach. "Over there! There's a free spot there!"

Vanderwood follows after MC and starts setting up their towels and beach umbrella. This is the first step in his grand surprise for MC today: spend the morning at the beach, a place MC rarely went to. The excited look on her face is all the confirmation he needs; he did good, choosing this as the start of their date.

MC sits on the towel under the shade of the umbrella and takes off her wide-brimmed hat, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. When she opens them, she turns to Vanderwood. "Baby, this is perfect. The skies are clear, there's a breeze and there's not much people; it's almost like we have the beach to ourselves!"

Vanderwood chuckles, sitting beside his girlfriend and reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ear. "You like it?"

At his touch, she blushes and smiles, nodding her head. "I do, Vanderwood. I really do."

He leans forward, lips quirking up into a smirk. "Good...that's real good, MC." Vanderwood can see the blush on her face deepening as he inches closer and his own heart races, eyes darting to her slightly-parted lips. As he draws nearer though, he hears a whooshing sound through the air and a distant yell: "LOOK OUT!"

His reflexes kick in and Vanderwood pulls MC against his chest then pins her against the ground, using his body to shield her from whatever it is --MC doesn't even have the time to process what's happening. But she feels herself warming, eyes fixated on Vanderwood's tense expression, at the way he's hovering on top of her, holding her protectively against him.

A second later, their umbrella is knocked over and a spray of sand flies across Vanderwood's back. He turns away and shields MC's eyes, a million thoughts already flying through his mind.

"Could it be that some agents found me? How many are there? How am I gonna get MC safely to the car? The taser's in the bag, if I could just reach it in time

"Vanderwood turns his head to look for the target-

-when his eyes fall to the white volleyball lying on the sand near them.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry, that's my fault!!!" A kid with blonde hair is running up to them, waving his hand and trying to bow at the same time. Vanderwood's eyes narrow. Wait a minute...isn't that-

"Yoosung?" comes MC's voice.

Sure enough, Yoosung's purple eyes widen as recognition dawns and he laughs, running faster. Right behind him is the silver-haired actor and Jaehee Kang, all dressed in their beachwear. Zen smiles when he spots the two familiar faces but it only lasts for a second --the moment he realizes the position the couple are in...

"YA!!! Vanderwood! What are you doing!" Zen glares at Vanderwood, pointing an accusatory finger at the Silver Spoon's bodyguard. Vanderwood narrows his gaze at the actor but hurriedly straightens himself, his face feeling warm.

"Baby, are you okay?"

"I am...what was that all about?" MC takes Vanderwood's hand and he pulls her up just as Yoosung stops in front of them, a sheepish smile on his face.

"Sorry! Zen hit the ball too hard and I received it wrong so it went flying...I didn't know it would end up here where you guys are! I didn't even know you two were going to be here too!"

Vanderwood rubs the back of his neck, wishing they'd leave him and MC alone. It's not that he doesn't like them, but today he'd like MC all for himself. "Ha...yeah, what a coincidence."

"Ya, you!" Zen jabs a finger at Vanderwood's chest, eyes blazing. "What the heck was that!"

Vanderwood looks at Zen with a deadpan look on his face. "I thought there was a threat, so I was defending my girlfriend. Will you stop having perverted thoughts?"

MC giggles. "It's true, Zen! He was just trying to protect me~"

"That's very quick thinking." Jaehee pipes in, picking up the ball. "I suppose that's what makes you a great bodyguard, Vanderwood."

"Ha...thanks." Vanderwood feels awkward still, but for an ex-agent with no family and no friends...his life's shaping out real good. Still, friends or not, he wants these people to go away and let him pamper his girlfriend. "So, now that that's settled-"

"OH! Why don't you two join us in a game of volleyball? Please!!! I'm tired of picking up the ball all the time!" Yoosung begs them, hands pressed together in front of him.

"Aww, that sounds fun! We're game, right, baby?" MC says, winking at Vanderwood. To the others, she says, "The two of us will be in a team against you guys! You'll see, Vanderwood will carry our team!"

Vanderwood can't help but feel proud at MC's words. Okay...maybe one game of volleyball wouldn't hurt. After that, they'll go back to their spot and maybe he can go swimming with MC, or get some cool drinks.

~

Yoosung, Jaehee and Zen stayed with them the entire time. After volleyball, they took MC and Vanderwood to their rented cabin and shared their meal. Vanderwood and Zen ended up grilling meat and seafood for the rest but it was actually fun. The non-stop chatter and laughs, the volleyball games, seeing MC enjoy herself --okay okay, it's not so bad that their first date got interrupted. But of course, Vanderwood has more tricks up his sleeves.

A long drive and a shower later, Vanderwood and MC change into more semi-formal attire as he drives them to one of the fancy restaurants in town. The restaurant is situated atop a building, with the entire floor encased in glass windows so guests can dine with a view overlooking South Korea. It's fine dining and Vanderwood has never been to a classy restaurant while off-duty; to be honest, something like this kinda suits Jumin Han more...but Vanderwood doesn't want to take MC to their regular dining spots. No, for this special day she deserves something special too.

As they're led to their seats by the hostess, Vanderwood once again intertwines his fingers with hers. "I heard this place has the best seoullangtang."

MC tugs at his hand, looking at him with narrowed eyes. "Baby, this place is really expensive...you didn't have to."

Ha...oh no, doesn't she like it?

"It's our anniversary," he tells her, lifting their hands and then turning hers so he can kiss the back of it. "Don't even think about that, baby."

MC turns red at Vanderwood's blatant display of affection. Usually, he's more reserved and careful when they're in public; she assumed it's because of his past and she didn't mind. But today, he's been more touchy and showy...MC has to admit, it's giving her heart a pleasant workout. They're seated right by the window and Vanderwood is the perfect gentleman, pulling her chair out for her and helping her onto her seat. MC feels shy all of a sudden as Vanderwood slides into his seat across her. With the dim lighting from the restaurant, the candle in the middle of the table casts Vanderwood's face in a warm glow and MC unconsciously swallows, entranced by him.

Their previous dates were never this fancy and she's not complaining --she loves wherever they are, be it the beach or the supermarket, a fancy restaurant or McFonald's. As long as they're together, she's happy.

But seeing her boyfriend all dressed up in a crisp button-down shirt and a coat, hair tied into a half-ponytail, brown eyes staring at her --she can't help but feel the depth and seriousness of their relationship. Today is their anniversary, which means she's spent 365 days with this man...more than that, of course. Ever since they met, her days have been full of color and life. MC reaches across the table for his hand and holds it tightly in hers.

"I love you, Vanderwood."

Vanderwood's glad it's kinda dark because his heart does that weird little thing and he feels his cheeks burn as a smile spreads across his face. "I love you too, MC."

She mirrors his smile and it's strange but MC feels like she did the first time she met him in person, nervous and intimidated, but at the same comforted by his presence and intrigued. This once mysterious man is hers and though she knows she's barely scratched the surface of all that he is, she can't wait to learn more about him everyday, for the rest of their lives.

"Baby, order whatever you like, okay? Haha, don't be worrying about the prices." Vanderwood says as they open their menus. MC's eyes are skimming through the dishes (half of which she can't even pronounce because they're in different languages) when she hears the sound of a familiar voice.

"I didn't expect to see you both here this evening."

Vanderwood tenses. No freaking way...

But he's been hanging around that voice for months now and he'd recognize it anywhere --his boss, Jumin Han. Vanderwood reluctantly looks at the man standing beside their table, the leader of the RFA at his side. Jihyun at least looks apologetic for barging into their date.

"Jumin! Jihyun! What a coincidence!" MC exclaims happily, smiling at them. Truth be told, she was looking forward to spending more alone time with her boyfriend, but she also doesn't want to be rude to her friends. "Did you guys just arrive?"

"Yes. A business colleague recommended this place. I would have asked for a private room but Jihyun preferred to stay close to the windows."

Jihyun laughs good-naturedly at Jumin's words. "This place is popular for their stunning view of the city, after all. We should get going to our table, Jumin, let's not bother them..."

"Have a good time, boss, Jihyun." Vanderwood gives them a little wave. "Nonsense. We haven't seen MC in a while. Perhaps we should ask for a bigger table and dine together."

You've got to be kidding me.

"Jumin-" Jihyun tries to interrupt, but Jumin is already gesturing for the host. In mere minutes, Vanderwood and MC are seated with Jihyun and Jumin. Of course...it's not all that bad. He didn't have to be so formal with his boss since they're outside of work, and Jumin knew his way around the menu; the meal Jumin ordered for them was mouth-wateringly delicious. Vanderwood had no idea which ones were good, so he's grateful for that part, at least.

But seriously...this was starting to get annoying. Would the RFA be popping up at his planned dates with MC? Vanderwood represses a sigh though, and fights the itch for a cigarette.

They enjoy their meal and, realizing he has no choice but to endure it, Vanderwood relaxes and allows himself to enjoy the company.

All of a sudden, they're bathed in a hue of colors and MC's eyes turn to the windows, widening with surprise. The sky is lit up by fireworks --something Vanderwood had arranged for. Her eyes are bright and her smile is priceless. As the fireworks paint the night sky with streaks of brilliant color, MC feels a peace inside her, knowing that's exactly what she was thinking of moments before. Vanderwood is like the scene outside, illuminating her life with the most dazzling colors.

And while MC gazes at the beautiful display, Vanderwood stares, enchanted, at the woman who brought light to his life.

~

The last stop of the evening is the last showing of the latest romance movie, a movie MC has been waiting for. Vanderwood settles into their comfortable lazy boy couches, glad he paid for these seats.

"I'm so excited, I've heard a lot of good reviews already!" MC whispers to him, leaning close. Vanderwood chuckles.

"Baby, it's gonna be amazing." He leans closer to her, stealing a quick kiss in the dark theater. MC bites her lower lip as he pulls away, wanting to tell him how much she loves him. But the movie starts and MC has to stop herself from squealing in excitement. She keeps her hand locked with his, eyes focused on the screen.

Vanderwood feels relaxed now, knowing no one can interrupt them, knowing he can enjoy this moment with his girlfriend and sneak glances at her cute reactions.

But just thinking those thoughts has jinxed the situation. The doors to the cinema creak open and Vanderwood picks up the sound of popcorn bags and two hushed whispers. He glances at the empty seats beside him and sighs.

"Oh! If it isn't Mary and MC!"

Vanderwood curses inwardly and almost slaps his hand to his face. No. No freaking way. No damn way.

But after some shuffling sounds, Saeyoung plops down on the seat beside Vanderwood with Saeran occupying the other.

"Ohoho, I didn't know you were into romance movies, Vandy~" Saeyoung whispers before leaning forward in his seat and waving at MC. "Hi, MC! Thanks for restarting this guy's heart! If you ask me, you should have used a tase-"

"Ya! Shut up!" Vanderwood says, a little too loudly. The audience shushes him and Vanderwood slinks into his seat while Saeyoung covers his laughs with a hand.

For the duration of the movie, Vanderwood has to put up with Saeyoung's reactions and his hushed side comments. At some point, popcorn starts to fly towards the brown-haired man too, bouncing off his hair. Saeran shakes his head, heaving a sigh as Saeyoung takes another popcorn and throws it subtly to Vanderwood. The ex-agent was ready though; he catches the popcorn and throws it back to Saeyoung, who slides down his chair dramatically.

"I've been hit...Saeran ah, save yourself~~~"

Vanderwood glances at MC's face to watch her reaction and he's surprised to see her eyes fixed on him. She's biting her lower lip, trying to stop herself from laughing. Vanderwood smirks, reaching out and freeing her lower lip from her bite.

"You want a shot at the idiot?" Vanderwood murmurs near her ear. MC nods and takes a piece of popcorn then tosses it to Saeyoung, who's crawling up his chair as quiet as he can.

Saeyoung gasps and flops back down on the ground, holding his chest as though he's wounded.

"Sneak attack! Saeran, help m-"

"No."

"Okay no ;;;;"

~

Vanderwood stirs, stretching his arms above his head with a yawn.

Damn, what time is it?

Yesterday felt so long --with all that happened, Vanderwood feels exhausted and a little disappointed at himself for failing MC. Everything should have been perfect, but as luck would have it, the RFA just had to meddle in all his plans.

He lays in bed, blinking away his sleepiness, wondering if he can do anything today to salvage their anniversary. Absently, he reaches beside him, wanting to pull MC to his side and wake her up with kisses --but his hands come up blank.

"What the-?"

His head whips to the empty space beside him and Vanderwood sits up just as the door opens. MC comes in, balancing a small tray table filled with food.

"Baby, what are you doing?" Vanderwood asks, bewildered. He starts to move from the bed but MC makes a sound and continues moving towards him.

"No no, you stay right there," she says, eyes staring at the orange juice sloshing inside the glass. "Don't get off the bed, baby!"

Vanderwood freezes, unsure what's happening. Finally, MC lays the tray table on the bed and beams at Vanderwood. "Happy anniversary, baby!"

The brown-haired man blinks, surprised. Then a soft chuckle escapes his lips. "MC, baby...did you do all this for me?"

MC shrugs, her smile wide enough to light up the room. "Maybe~"

She carefully sits on the bed closest to Vanderwood, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Baby, yesterday was amazing! I wasn't expecting those surprises at all."

Vanderwood's brows furrow. "What do you mean..? MC...I...was gonna apologize-"

"What? For what?"

Vanderwood awkwardly scratches his cheek, not sure what to say. "Uh...ha, 'coz I didn't intend for the RFA to show up. And I mean, anniversaries aren't supposed to be celebrated like that...right? The movies we watched, the celebrations ain't like that."

Giggling, MC leans towards her boyfriend and kisses his cheek. "Oh Vanderwood, it was perfect. I had so much fun, even more so because our friends were with us celebrating our special day with us.

Without the RFA, you and I would have met in a different way. But I like our love story, because everything that has happened so far has led us to this moment, baby." She holds his hands, cheeks turning red. "I loved watching you play volleyball and grill our lunch, I loved listening to you talk with our friends, I loved catching my boyfriend all dressed up to take me on a fancy dinner, and I loved that you sat through another romance movie with me, all the while having a popcorn battle with Saeyoung."

MC squeezes his hands and all of Vanderwood's doubts vanish; his eyes fix on her, his heart beating loudly against his chest.

"Vanderwood...the girls in those movies we watch get one big gesture per movie but I got three amazing dates in one day. My friends were there to celebrate a special day with me: the anniversary of the day I promised forever to the love of my life. And I-"

Before MC could finish her speech, Vanderwood closes the gap between them and meets her lips for a kiss, pulling her close to him without toppling over the tray. MC's hands clutch the front of his shirt and her eyes close, her body tingling as he pours his emotions into their kiss.

"MC," Vanderwood says breathlessly, leaning his forehead against hers, "I love you. I'll keep takin' you out for dates, keep celebrating this day with you every year. 'Coz it's the day you and I got together, the day my life started to make more sense..." He gives her another peck and pulls her closer, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "But every day you remind me that there's more to life than fighting and running. Every day, I wanna see you smile and hear you tell me you love me."

MC giggles and wraps her arms around him. "I love you, Vanderwood." She lays her head on his chest, feeling the strong beat of his heart, a heart that's tied to hers. "Yesterday was amazing but today I'm keeping you all to myself."

Vanderwood chuckles, reaching for a piece of bacon and holding it near her lips. MC takes a small bite from it and Vanderwood takes a larger chunk. "You and me all day, huh?"

MC nods, reaching for her phone. "You and me, all day, everyday." She holds the phone away from them, opening the camera app. "Happy anniversary, baby~"

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Thank you so much for the opportunity to participate, @mysme-rbb :) I had fun and kudos to the mods for an amazing project! 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Check out my other Mysme writings here!

Mango Shake/Ko-fi is always very much appreciated (ᵔᴥᵔ)

I’d be honored to write your story <3 (Commissions are full and closed atm ;A;)

[iguessweallcrazyithinktho]

Meeting the princess

Summary: your a single mom and you don't have much luck dating until you meet Harry. You've both been dating for a month and it was finally time for him to meet your daughter

Warning: Fluff

Word count: 1K

Title: meeting the princess

Pairing: Harry styles x single mom reader

Masterlist | Harry styles request open)no smuts please)

Please don't post any of my content anywhere else without my permission. comments and reblogs welcome!

This was the first time your daughter was going to meet a person you're going out with. See it wasn’t hard for you to get a date, but once most guys found out that you had a daughter they wanted nothing to do with each other. You didn’t expect Harry to want to be with you after you told him you had a daughter but he was really happy. He wanted to meet her, get to know her, he was ecstatic. “Mommy are we there yet?” you looked through the rear view mirror at your 4 year old. She was smiling widely. She was probably just as excited as Harry was. “Um almost sweetheart.” she groaned, but still smiled. “Okay. i’m so excited.” she giggled sweetly. You smiled at her. “I know sweetheart we’re almost there.”

The drive didn’t take long. You arrived at the little Italian restaurant where Harry asked you to meet him at. You found a parking space and parked there. You turned off the car and turned to Amelia, “you ready princess?” she looked at you, nodding “yes.” “Okay.” you got out of the car and shut the door. You opened the door and unbuckled amelia from her car seat. You put her on the ground and begin to walk up to the building hand and hand with her. You walked in the restaurant, you spotted Harry in the back. He smiled when he saw you walking towards him. His eyes flickered down to Amelia and back up to you, You can see him taking a deep breath as he stood up and smiled at you. 

“Hello love.” you leaned in hugging him, kissed his cheek as well. You both pulled away and looked down at amelia. She was looking up at you and harry. You kneeled down to her height, “Amelia, this is harry. Can you say hi?” Harry kneeled down to her height, Amelia walked up to him shyly. “Hi amelia.” Harry stuck out his hand and Amelia shook it. “Hi.” her voice was soft as she spoke. Harry stood up and pointed to the booth, “should we sit?” you nodded.

You sat amelia in the booth first before you sat down. Harry sat across from you both, he was still smiling. Amelia was small so she barely could see over the table. “Mommy i’m too tiny.” you looked down at her giggling. “Okay we’ll get you a booster seat.” you got up to get a booster seat, when you returned you saw harry talking to amelia. A smile was on her face as she made conversation with harry. Your heart sored, you weren’t expecting them to get close especially since this was the first guy she has ever met that you were dating. Hopefully this will be the one and only guy she meets.

You walked back up to the table with the booster seat in your hand, “okay here you are.” Amelia sat up and let you put the seat down so she could be at a good level. After you put down she sat in it. “That's better.” she said. She started to draw in the coloring sheet that was on the table. The waitress came over and took your order, as soon as they left You turned to Harry, “how are you?” harry smiled at you. “Good. How are you love?” you were about to say you were fine, but amelia interrupted you.

“Mommy, when will we eat?” you laughed and looked at her, “it’s coming sweetheart.”  she nodded and went back to coloring. You turned back to harry. “Sorry, i’m great.” Harry laughed, “it’s fine. ”you and harry talked for a while. Every now and then Amelia would interrupt you to talk to harry. She was warming up to him faster than you thought and you were happy about that. Your food arrived like 15 minutes later and as soon as your food was in front of Amelia she went to town. It didn’t help that she had spaghetti. Harry laughed at her, she was seriously adorable in his eyes.

You picked up a napkin and wiped her face off. “You gotta slow down princess. it’s not going anywhere.” she giggled “otay.” she begin to eat slower this time taking your advice. You turned to Harry seeing him smiling, shaking his head. You laughed and began to eat your food. Dinner lasted 10 minutes. Amelia  didn’t finish all of her food which was reasonable. The waiter came  with the check . you were about to take it, but harry got to it first. “”No, let me.” you smiled at him. “Okay, thanks.” you sat back and let him take it, you felt a tug on your coat sleeve, “mommy.” You looked down to amelia “yes?

”Amelia looked up at you, “mommy, is he going to be my daddy?” she whispered. you weren’t sure what to say. You really did want to tell her yes, but you and Harry have been in a relationship for only 4 months, and her and harry just met. “Um, maybe he’ll be, but you both have to get to know each other.” she nodded. “Alright.” you looked back at harry seeing him handing the check to the waitress. “I paid. I think it’s time to leave.” you got up, amelia scooted out of the seat. You helped her put on her coat and all 3 of you walked out to your cars.

You know amelia, i got you something.” amelia gasped. “Really.” Harry smiled, “yes, i’ll get it for you.” Harry opened his trunk and searched for it. You looked down at amelia. She had a big smile on her face even though she hasn’t seen what it was yet. Harry closing his trunk caught your attention, you looked back up to see him holding a pink bunny. Amelia gasped once again.

 “This is for you amelia.” he kneeled down and handed it to her. She smiled clutching the bear to her heart. “Thank you.” without warning she wrapped her arms around harry. He was caught off guard, but wrapped his arms around her tiny body. “Your welcome little one.” he looked up at you, he winked and all you could do was smile. Their relationship is definitely going to progress.