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rhaenyratargcryen · 2 years

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so what is wrong with another sin? (eddie munson)

masterlist ❈ summary: a random hookup at a bar that you haven’t been able to stop thinking about makes another appearance in your life in the most unexpected way. author's note: MECHANIC!EDDIE!!!!!!!! this is what i have been talking about for ages i hope y’all like it :’) i tried to make it so so so so clear but there is like. a MILLION percent consent from both parties in this fic. across the board. so much consent

pairing: eddie munson x f!reader word count: 6.4k (lmfao) warnings: pwp, alternate universe: canon divergence, no spoilers, semi-public sex, spit kink, degradation, unprotected sex (with a stranger at that - sorry lol), eddie likes to run his mouth (and kind of wants to make you cry), excessive use of the word ‘fuck,’ #divebareddie

also cross-posted to AO3 :)

all characters are 18+!! minors DNI ty!!!!!

“You come here often?”

You pull your drink away from your mouth before you’ve had the chance to take a sip, turning ever so slightly to glance down the bar at the guy who’s just sat down two seats away from you. He’s handsome – angular jaw, strong nose, beautiful black hair falling in loose curls across his shoulders – and he has an air about him that tells you he’s the one who comes here often. He looks comfortable, confident. His pretty brown eyes are trained on your mouth.

“Are you talking to me?”

He nods, bringing the sweating bottle of beer in his hand up to his mouth to take a swig, watching your face as your gaze follows his hand. Your eyes flick back up to meet his.

“You use that line on every chick that walks in here, don’t you?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” the man says, maintaining eye contact with you and taking another pull of his drink.

You snort. “Does it work?”

“Almost never,” he retorts, and you laugh, bright and loud, then shake your head.

“Well, shit, it’s the lamest line in the book, dude.”

He feigns hurt and smiles when it makes you laugh again, the corners of his bright eyes tightening in a way that makes him even more handsome than he already was. “It worked with you, though, didn’t it?”

“I don’t know if I would say it worked,” you murmur, but by now you’ve set your drink down on the bartop and turned to face him completely.

“No, but I got your attention, sweetheart, and that’s all I ever wanted.” He wipes his hand on his jeans, holds his hand out. “I’m Eddie, by the way.”

You take his hand and shake. “Nice to meet you.”

Eddie purses his lips. “You gonna tell me your name?”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” you say, smiling, and he rolls his eyes at you, but it’s playful. His gaze comes right back to meet yours.

The fucking eye contact. You can hardly take it.

“Do you?”

“Do I what?” You laugh.

“Come here often?”

“Oh,” you say, biting your lip. “No, actually. First time.”

“Hm.” He studies your face, his eyes trailing down your body, lingering in places you’d normally slap a man for. “Can I get you another drink, sweetheart?”

“No,” you murmur, nonchalant. You warm under his gaze. You hope your indifference comes off the way you want it to. “I think I’m good.”

The look on his face is indescribable as he shakes his head and drains his beer, setting it down in front of him. He raises his hand to get the bartender’s attention. “Close my tab?”

Before you know it, you’re being pressed face-first against a bathroom stall.

“Oh, fuck,” you whine, pressing back against his body behind you, hips chasing the hand reaching around to dip underneath the front of your jeans.

“You want it, huh?”

“Yeah,” you pant. “Yes. Eddie, touch me, please.”

“Shit,” Eddie mutters when he pushes down past your underwear and swipes his fingers through your cunt, and you feel his hot breath against your ear as he chuckles. “Fuck, you’re so wet. You were playing it so cool, baby, but you want me so bad, don’t you? Were you thinking about this the whole time we were talking at the bar? You couldn’t wait for me to drag you to the bathroom and fuck you, huh? That why you were acting so shy?”

All rhetorical questions, of course. He already knows the answer.

You let your head roll to the side and expose your neck to him, which he gladly takes as the open invitation that it is, biting down gently on the skin right under your ear and then trailing his lips down to the top of your shoulder. His lips are soft and spongy against your skin, and his fingers dip even deeper and you whine, high-pitched, when you feel two of them nudge at your hole, pushing inside of you all the way to the knuckles.

“You don’t even know me.” Eddie says this with his mouth pressed against your skin, so it’s muffled, but he’s so close to your ear that you can hear him perfectly. His fingers start to move slowly, picking up slightly when he feels you clench around him. “You’re okay letting someone you don’t even know touch you like this? Fuck.”

“You’re so fucking hot,” you pant, “I knew I wanted you the moment you sat down.”

“So you did notice me before I said anything? I knew it.”

You buck your hips back against him, feel his hard cock against you through both of your jeans, and he groans, using his other hand to hold you in place while he starts to grind against you, fucking you with his fingers in time with his hips.

“Wanna – mm, fuck,” you groan, pausing when he reaches upward inside of you, hits a spot that makes your knees give out a bit, “want your cock in my mouth. Please.”

Eddie murmurs fuck and pulls his fingers from inside of you. You gasp at the sudden movement, emptiness, but you turn in place when he’s got both hands on your hips, lips against his neck, your hands pulling his shirt from the front of his jeans. You brush the backs of your knuckles against the dark swath of hair on his belly and grin against his throat when you feel him shudder at your touch.

You get his belt undone quicker than he thought you would, your deft little fingers unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans just as quickly. You reach into his jeans and squeeze his hard cock through his briefs, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to his neck, his groans vibrating your body where it’s pressed up against his. You push his jeans down until they settle around his ankles and push his briefs down just enough so that you’re able to pull him out of them. Eddie pulls his shirt up over his head and you plant one hand on his stomach as you take the heft of him into your other hand.

“This okay?”

“God, more than,” he groans out, wincing slightly when you squeeze him just below the head. You laugh and drop to your knees, cradling his thick cock, and Eddie brings both of his hands up to gather your hair at the back of your head.

“Oh, fuck, sweetheart,” Eddie pants, his hips stuttering when you bring one hand up to tightly grip the base of his shaft at the same time as you press your tongue flat down on his slit for the first time. You’re careful to keep your teeth tucked behind your lips, and you push forward until you’re about halfway down his length before pulling back, sucking your cheeks in, smiling slightly when you hear him curse above you. You try this a few more times before deciding to take him all the way,

This time, his hips buck for real, and his cock slides straight to the back of your throat. You pull off of him and take a big, gulping breath.

“Shit, sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you gasp, leaning in again to take him back into your mouth, taking him as deep as you’re able, the wiry curls at the base of him tickling your face as you breathe deeply through your nose. He groans at the feel of your tight throat wrapped around him but he restrains himself, letting you set the pace, at least while his cock is in your mouth. When you swallow, he doubles over, fingers curling against your scalp.

“Fuck, that feels so good, baby. If your mouth feels like this, how’s your cunt feel, huh? Is she this tight, too?”

You whine around him and take your hand off of his thigh, pushing it under your jeans and your panties and straight onto your clit, rubbing in tight circles while he spouts absolute filth.

“You’re touching yourself? Fuck,” he cries, and pulls on your hair until you release his cock, the soft sound it makes when he pops out of your mouth music to his ears. Your hand continues its movements against your clit and he watches, his mouth hanging open, his eyelids heavy with want.

You sit back on your heels and run your hand up and down him, twisting your fist in a way that makes him think his knees might give out, his vision blurring slightly. “You’re so big, Eddie.”

“You keep that up and I’ll come down your throat,” Eddie mutters, tugging on your hair again so you’ll stop. He leans his head back for a moment to compose himself, then lets it roll forward again until he’s looking straight at you. “You want that? Or you want me to fuck you good?”

Your face turns a bright shade of red and Eddie laughs down at you, watching as you start to fist him again, focusing your attention on his tip, almost the same flushed color as your cheeks, too embarrassed to look him in the eye. You pull your hand out from your panties.

“You can tell me. Tell me, baby. Do you want me to fuck you?”

A brief pause, then you whisper, “Want you to fuck me,” and Eddie grins.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, biting your lip, and he groans when you look up at him from under your long eyelashes. He hooks one hand under your arm and helps you stand, taking your face in the other and bringing you eye level with him. His thumb rubs against your cheek, his pinky tucked under your jaw, and you open your mouth on instinct. Eddie laughs again, a quick, sharp sound, and presses his thumb into your mouth and down onto your tongue. He stands up a little straighter, angling his mouth above yours, and spits right onto his thumb.

You swallow and swear you go cross-eyed for a moment.

Eddie smiles at the fucked-out look on your face, pushing his free hand up under your shirt so he can get it off of you. You let him, help him, even, leaning back against the bathroom stall and watching him toss it to the floor.

“Won’t kiss me, but you’ll spit in my mouth?”

Eddie’s eyes flash. “Someone’s opening up.”

You only hum, watching his gaze dip down to your mouth.

“And I never said I wouldn’t kiss you, sweetheart.”

Your lips part to retort, but Eddie’s already pressing his own to yours. His tongue pushes right into your mouth, and he groans at the salty, heady taste of himself on your tongue. You pant against him, and he presses one hand to the wall next to your head, his other curled around your back. His knee is slotted between your legs, his naked thigh against your clothed core. You’re so sensitive that the pressure is sending all the blood in your head straight to your clit. You can feel his hard cock begging for attention at your hip.

“You’re still in your jeans.”

“I am.”

“You gonna do something about that?”

You smirk. “Are you?”

“Touche,” he laughs, unbuttoning your pants and sliding them, along with your underwear, straight to the ground, letting you grip his arms for balance as you kick them off of your feet.

“You’re sure you still want this?”

“Fuck, Eddie, yes, I want you so bad,” you whisper, and he squeezes your hips tightly, turning you back around. You plant your hands on the stall in front of you, crying out when you feel his fingers slide against your weepy cunt. He takes your hip in his other hand, gripping it tightly so he can hold you in place when he switches his fingers out for his cock, sliding it along the length of you once, twice, before slipping just the head in.

He groans at the feeling of you wrapped tight around him, hands gripping tightly around your hips, dragging you backwards down onto his cock until he’s fully seated inside of you.

“Is this okay?”

You nod and he pushes his hand up into your hair, pulling your head back so that your face is level to his. He pulls out slightly then pushes back in slowly, and you whimper as his cock drags inside of you.

“You gotta use your words with me, baby, remember?”

“Yeah, it’s so good, Eddie, fuck, it’s so good.”

“Good,” he grunts, wrapping an arm around you, pressing his face into the center of your back, easing his cock in and out of you at a gentler pace than you’d have imagined him capable of.

Your head lolls, a keening whine leaving your mouth when he pushes his hips up, and the sound has him picking up his pace, drilling straight into that spongy, sensitive spot inside of you. You slip one hand down to rub at your swollen clit, the other doing a poor job of keeping you upright against the bathroom stall. Eddie brings his hand around and pushes yours away, taking over on your clit so you can better brace yourself when he starts to thrust into you even harder, short, sharp thrusts that, mixed with the slick pressure against your clit, have you close to coming.

“Fuck, you gonna come already baby? Yeah?”

You nod and his hand picks up its pace, rubbing in circles faster than you’d be able to, his cock slipping in and out and in until finally your legs turn to jello beneath you without much warning at all. You’re squeezing the life out of his cock and Eddie tries to last, he does, but you feel so good, and he’s pulling you flush against him, the arm wrapped around you the only thing supporting you as he starts to come, too.

You’re pretty distracted by your own orgasm but the sound of him whining in your ear has your stomach in knots. He gives you a few more thrusts for good measure, easing you through the tail end of your high, panting against the clammy skin on the back of your neck.

A few moments pass of silence aside from the sound of your breath, Eddie’s forehead against your back grounding you, his curls tickling the skin of your shoulders. You lean against the stall, heart racing, and you wince when Eddie slips out of you.

“Sorry,” he mutters, rubbing a hand gently down your back, and you shake your head. You stay where you are for a beat, then turn and watch him tuck himself back into his pants, zip up and button them, before he bends down to pick your shirt up off the floor and hand it to you. You murmur thanks and toss it on, bending yourself this time to grab your jeans, trying to ignore the way your thighs are already starting to ache.

“Have you seen my underwear?”

Eddie glances around at the floor, picking one foot up, then another, and you groan when you see they were underneath his shoe.

“Gross. Okay.”

You pull your jeans up, buttoning them, and bend again to pocket your underwear. You brush your fingers through your hair and glance up at Eddie, whose naked torso is quite literally gleaming with sweat. He catches you staring and smirks, pulling his shirt back over his head.

“Um, thanks?”

Eddie snorts. “You’re thanking me?”

“I just,” you start, fiddling with the bottom of your shirt. You are painfully sober at this point. “Didn’t know what to say, I guess.”

“Don’t mention it, sweetheart,” Eddie says. He pushes open the stall door and looks back over his shoulder at you expectantly, but you gesture at him.

“Go without me. Be right out.”

He nods and lets the door slam behind him, and you hear the sink run for a few moments before the door to the bathroom itself opens and closes. You step out into the room, stop in front of the mirror to make sure nothing looks out of the ordinary, and push out of the bathroom, too.

You gaze around, Eddie nowhere to be seen at first glance. You walk up to the bar, planting your palms right onto the counter, and lean over to grab the bartender’s attention.

“Hey, have you seen the guy I was talking to earlier?”

He looks up, gives you a once-over, and you can almost see his train of thought - like he’s figured out in less than ten seconds what the two of you were doing in that bathroom. It’s not a very big bar, after all.

“Yeah, he left a few minutes ago, before you got out. He got your tab, though, sweetheart, so you’re good to go.”

You try not to noticeably deflate. Good. Nice. So sweet of him. Bye forever, Eddie.

--------------------------------

You’d spent the better part of the last few days trying to get that night out of your head. You, unfortunately and predictable, have not been very successful.

Every night when you got into bed and closed your eyes, without the distractions of the day, all you saw was him. His thick, curly hair. Those brown eyes looking down at you, hungry as he watched you take his cock into your mouth. Your hand would trail down the front of your body, nudge itself between your legs, and make you come over and over to the mental image of him smiling at you from two seats down at the bar.

You were even shaking thoughts of his lips pressing against your back out of your mind as you were dropping your car off for maintenance. Seriously, get a fucking grip. The front door was unlocked, so you let yourself in and walked until you came across a metal desk.

“Hello? I called ahead - I think something might be wrong with my engine? I…”

You trail off when a familiar head of black hair pops up from underneath said desk.

“…Oh.”

Eddie grins up at you. Like, Eddie from the other night, who blew your mind, then disappeared on you. That Eddie.

“Hi,” he says, the grin turning into more of a smirk.

“Hi,” you respond, holding up your keys. “Was it you that I spoke with on the phone earlier?”

“Yes, indeed.”

“I didn’t even recognize your voice,” you laugh, glancing behind you into the parking lot. “Sorry about that.”

“No worries,” Eddie shrugs, then reaches one hand out for your keys, which you hand over quickly. “Something about your engine? Making a sort of sputtering sound?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. You watch him bend over the desk, taking some notes on a clipboard, his messy handwriting barely legible. You can’t tolerate it any longer.

“I’m sorry,” you start, but Eddie shakes his head and cuts you off before you can say anything more.

“What are you sorry for?”

“This is…?”

“What, awkward?” Eddie snorts, eyes still glued to his paper. “Nah, only if we make it awkward.”

“You kind of…disappeared,” you mutter, and Eddie looks up at you. You feel a sharp pang when his eyes make contact with yours. “I honestly wouldn’t have booked here if I’d known that…”

Eddie winces as you trail off. “Yeah, maybe I’m the one who should be apologizing, but to be honest with you, sweetheart…”

You laugh uncomfortably. “You weren’t expecting to ever see me again, is that right?”

Eddie flushes a bit, then covers his face with his hands, groans. “God, it sounds fucking awful when you say it out loud.”

“No, no,” you say, hoisting your bag higher onto your shoulder, fiddling with the edge of your dress. Eddie drops his hand and glances back up at you. “It’s fine. That’s a normal thing to do. People do one night stands all the time. It’s fine.”

An uncomfortable silence settles between you, Eddie’s gaze darting away from you then back. You clear your throat.

“I’ll just go sit in the waiting room?”

“We don’t…have a waiting room? But you’re more than welcome to come sit at the desk while I’m over working on your car. Chair’s a bit uncomfortable, but, you know.”

“I appreciate it. I’ll wait here.”

“Cool. I’ll be back,” Eddie says, winking, turning on his heel and jingling your keys as he goes.

You sit, pull a magazine from your purse, and you fully intend to read it, you really do, but then Eddie’s pulling a bandana from his pocket, folding it in half and using it to keep his hair back and out of his face. He pushes the hood up on your car, his shirt riding up enough that you have a perfect view of the dark trail of hair that disappears into his jeans. You blush, remembering exactly what it leads to.

You keep that up and I’ll come down your throat. Eddie’s voice rings in your ears and your face flushes. You cross your legs and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to stop yourself from thinking about it. When you open your eyes again, the sight of Eddie’s fingers gripping some tool as he works on your car has you melting back into your seat.

You give yourself permission to ogle for a bit longer but, for fear of being caught, you force yourself to bend over the desk and turn your attention back to your magazine. You’re not sure how much time goes by, reading about stale celebrity gossip and last season’s fashion trends, before you hear Eddie’s voice again.

“Hey, sweetheart?”

You perk up, closing your magazine. Eddie is walking toward you, pulling the bandana from his hair, wiping his greasy hands off on it. He stops when he’s a few strides from the desk and motions for you to come with him.

“Wanna show you somethin’.”

You hum and push the chair back, leaving your purse behind and following him out to where he’s working on your car. The hood is popped and you don’t know much (read: fuck all) about cars, but he’s clearly been digging around in your engine.

Eddie begins to explain to you what he did to your car, gesturing wildly, mentioning things like exhausts and distributors and cylinders. It all goes over your head, but you’re more than happy to admire how unbelievably pretty he looks when he’s explaining something he knows a lot about.

“Eddie, I wish I could say I knew what any of that meant.”

He laughs and shakes his head, leaning up to close the hood of your car, nudging you out of the way with his hip before letting it slam shut. “Your car’s fine. I just had to tighten a few things. These are things you can check on yourself every once in a while so you don’t have to pay someone else to do it. I’m gonna wash my hands real quick, then we can finish up your paperwork, okay? I’ll be right back.”

You nod, leaning back against your car, watching him walk away, then roll your head back until you feel your hair brush the middle of your spine. You can hear the sink on the opposite side of the garage running, then hear it shut off, and for some reason, you feel your stomach tightening at the thought of him making his way back over to join you.

“Well,” you say, pushing off from your hood, but before you stand up, Eddie cages you back against it, his knees pressing in on either side of your hips. He’s watching your face, a knowing, carnal look in his eye.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs, brushing your hair behind your ear, watching your face flush a deep shade of pink. “Did you really think I couldn’t feel your eyes on me that whole time? That I didn’t notice you practically undressing me while I was working on your car?”

You stammer, “I, I don’t…”

“You’ve been thinking about fucking me again since the moment you stepped into this shop,” he says, squeezing the back of your neck. “Admit it.”

Your breath hitches when he slots a leg between yours, pushing his knee up against your warm cunt.

“If you don’t want this, sweetheart, I’ll back off. I will. We’ll get your paperwork filled out and send you on your way. But I’m thinkin’ it’s fate that brought you to my shop for more, and I think you want more just as bad as I do.”

You bite your lip, glancing down at Eddie’s mouth, which has already curled into a smirk as if he can read your thoughts. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you lean forward and press your mouth to his, his plush, plump lips parting to let you snake your tongue inside.

“I do,” you whimper, chasing his lips when he pulls away from you. Eddie brings one hand up to wrap around the front of your throat gently, holding you in place. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it while I was waiting, could hardly concentrate on my fucking magazine.”

He laughs sharply, squeezing your neck and using his other hand to grip your side, rutting against you. Your hips cant up to meet his, but he pulls away before you can get much friction going.

“Eddie,” you whine, and he smirks.

“You need it that bad, huh?”

You nod and he grips your face. “No, no, I want to hear you say it.”

“I need it. Fuck,” you gasp, sighing into Eddie’s mouth when he presses his lips back to yours. He kisses you deeply, steals the air straight from your lungs, sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, then pulls back and grins. His lips purse.

“Was I the best fuck of your life? I was, wasn’t I. That’s why you brought your car to my garage, isn’t it? You couldn’t stand never spending another night with me again.”

“I didn’t even know –”

He pulls his hand away from your throat and pushes it up into the back of your hair, gripping tight. “No, baby, I think I fucked you so good you needed it again.”

Panting, you bring your hand up to tighten around his forearm. “Best fuck of my life,” you agree, your fingernails pushing crescent shaped divots into his skin.

Eddie’s other hand reaches down and pushes under your dress, and he breathes in sharply through his nose when he feels how wet you are through your cotton panties.

"God, I love it when I'm right.”

Eddie wraps the hand that was in your hair back around your throat, gripping just tightly enough to make you roll your eyes back as he pushes his middle finger through your wet folds. He laughs lightly, bringing his ring finger up to join his middle, slipping them both inside of you, hooking them up to press into your sweet spot. You gasp and wrap your hand around his wrist, biting your lip at the feel of his muscles jumping while he works you open with his fingers.

“Whose pretty little pussy is this, huh? So tight and so sweet. Is it mine, baby?”

“Keep talking to me like that,” you whine, “and you can have whatever you want.”

Eddie laughs. “Oh, she likes it when I talk to her like she’s a little slut, does she?”

You moan, nodding, your head dropping back as you try to arch up into him. Eddie takes advantage of your open mouth and pulls his hand from around your throat to stick his thumb right on your tongue, pressing down until you close your mouth around it, suckling gently.

Eddie pulls his thumb from your mouth and you make an obscene pop sound, at which his eyes darken. He dips his hand underneath the hem of your skirt and into your underwear, his thumb finding your clit immediately, rubbing soft circles into it while he finger fucks you.

“Super convenient that you decided to wear this pretty little dress today, hm? Instead of something a little more difficult to take off.”

You blush and he grins, knowing he’s right on the money.

Eddie pulls his hand from your panties and grabs your waist, turning you around so that he’s seated on the hood of your car in your place.

“Come here,” he murmurs, pulling your waist closer until your hips are flush against him. He leans back, back, all the way, until he’s lying flat against the hood, letting go of your hips and grabbing your knees instead. You pull one up so it’s resting against the front bumper, then hoist yourself up so that your feet are off of the ground and you’re almost in his lap.

“Like this?”

Eddie hums, hands hooked around the back of your thighs. He squeezes, pulling you forward.

“What are you –”

“Just, come up here,” Eddie says, hands gripping your thighs, encouraging up over his chest until you’re hovering over his face. He leans up to press a kiss against your clothed cunt, just enough pressure for you to really feel it.

“Oh, fuck,” you whimper, hunching over, planting one of your hands on your car’s windshield as Eddie’s fingers dig into the skin of your thighs. He fists the fabric at the bottom of your dress, pushing it up, and you take it into your hand, holding it in a bunch up above your hips. His fingers hook into your panties, pulling them to the side to expose your cunt.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he whispers, pushing his fingers through your folds, spreading you apart, so he can stretch his neck up and latch his mouth easily around your clit. You cry out and your thighs tense, close in around his head, and he uses one hand to wrench them apart so you don’t suffocate him. You push your hand against the windshield and hoist yourself up so you’re sitting straight, carding the hand not holding your dress up through his hair, gripping it at his scalp while he sucks on your clit so hard your vision goes white.

Eddie keeps one hand on your panties to keep them out of his way, but the fingers of his other hand are pushing against your entrance. You clench around nothing at the memory of the way his fingers filled you up and fucked you good at the bar, and he chuckles, slipping his middle and ring finger inside of you. The sound against you has you grinding down against his face, your head thrown back, mouth open.

“So good,” you mutter, hips circling softly, and he pulls his mouth away to suck a soft bruise into the skin of your thigh, then bites the tender spot. You gasp and clench again, this time around his fingers, and he brings his mouth back to your clit, his tongue flicking against it rapidly while his fingers pick up momentum. You grip his hair tightly, and you know almost as soon as his mouth is on you again that you aren’t going to last long.

Your knees ache against the harsh metal of the car, and anyone could honestly walk in at any moment and find the two of you in a very compromising position, but none of that matters, because the knot in your stomach is twisting and twisting until suddenly it snaps, and you shout, “Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, Eddie,” your eyes shut tight. He brings the hand holding your panties aside up to squeeze at your hip, holding you as you tremble through your orgasm, his mouth tight around your clit, fingers working in and out of you until he feels you start to relax.

Once you’ve come down from your high, you ease yourself back off of his face and into his lap. Eddie wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, but it still glistens, and you smile down at him. He grips your thighs and sits up, running his hands up your hips and under your dress. He pulls your dress up over your head, leans up to kiss you as your hair falls back into place. Your dress ends up tossed on the floor, and Eddie brings both hands up to cup your cheeks, pushing his tongue past your lips and into your mouth. You moan against him. He tastes like you.

Eddie indulges himself in this kiss for a few moments, then pulls back and eases off the hood of the car, hoisting you up into his arms, before turning and laying you down in his place. You grin up at him, and Eddie can’t help but reach down and palm your tits, your beautiful fucking tits that he somehow hasn’t gotten his hands on until now. You hum while he pulls your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.

“You gonna fuck me, Eddie? Hmm? You gonna fuck me good, like you promised?”

Eddie’s mouth falls open at you giving it back to him, and he laughs, brings one hand down to fist his cock. He uses his other hand to pull your hips closer to him and eases himself forward, rubbing his head through your folds.

“Yeah,” he whispers, his gaze laser focused on your eyes. “Gonna fuck you real good, sweetheart.”

His hips nudge forward, and you groan and toss your head back when his cock finally pushes in. The stretch of him makes you feel like someone lit a fire inside of you, but he takes it slow, presses a soft hand on your belly while you pant and writhe against him. It seems to drag on for ages, his easing of himself inside of you, but once he’s fully sheathed, he bends down to press a kiss to your chest. You bring one hand up and fist his curls, encourage him up to your neck, gasp and moan as he starts to mouth bruises into the skin where your neck and your shoulder meet. His hips cant experimentally and you twitch beneath him.

“You good, baby?” His breath against your skin has you shivering. “Can I move?”

You grip his hair tighter and nod, squeezing your knees around his hips, and he smiles against your neck and stands up straight again.

Pressing his hands into the backs of your thighs just below your knees, Eddie pushes your legs up so you’re spread open for him. He can’t keep his eyes off the place where the two of you are joined, where your cunt is already drooling around his cock. His hips pull back, then press back in until he’s bottomed out again, and you inhale sharply at the feel of him all the way inside of you.

“That feel good? Huh?” Eddie’s fingers are gripping your thighs so harshly you worry he’ll leave bruises. He continues fucking in and out of you at a frustratingly slow pace. “You like the way my cock feels inside of you?”

“Yes, Eddie,” you pant, breath hitching when he picks up a little. You’re so wet - you’ve been wet - so there’s no resistance and the feeling is so delicious. The sound of his hips slapping against yours echoes off of the walls and almost drowns out the sloppy sound of his cock sliding in and out of you.

“You gonna come again for me?”

You nod and slip a hand down your front to play with your clit, and he smirks as he watches you, pushing your legs even higher. He bites his lip at the little pinched look you get on your face from the feeling. His hips change their pace from short, shallow thrusts to deep, pointed ones, and you gasp each time he slams into you, his spongy tip meeting the spot behind your clit that makes you cry. Tears leak out the sides of your eyes, slip down your cheeks.

“Fuck, that’s it, baby. You look so pretty. Are you crying? Does it feel that good?”

You whine and your head drops to the side, your eyes squeezed shut as you circle your clit tightly, the combination of the feeling of your hand and his cock taking you there. You gasp and your back arches off the car’s hood, and Eddie leans down to press flush against you, his face tucked under your chin to bite at the skin there while you come. He’s not far behind, his hips snapping once, twice, three more times before he’s spilling inside of you, groaning your name.

Your breaths come in shallow pants as you lower your legs, your body feeling flimsy and your head a little fuzzy. Your hand comes up to card through Eddie’s hair, and he shifts slightly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before easing up and off of you.

Eddie sighs, backing off to admire the way his come drips out of you, the way your thighs still tremble noticeably. He shakes his head and pulls his briefs back up his thighs, tucking himself back into them, before grabbing a clean rag off a nearby table and gently cleaning you up, cooing at you when you hiss.

“Sorry,” he murmurs. “Know you’re probably sensitive.”

“It’s okay. You don’t need to apologize.”

“I know, but I just fucked your brains out. Want to make sure you’re fine.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, propping yourself up on shaky arms. You smile up at him, cheeks rosy with satisfaction. “I appreciate it. The fucking of the brains out, and the making sure I’m fine.”

“O’course.” A brief, only-slightly-uncomfortable pause. Then, “Sorry if I get a little carried away.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just…I love to run my mouth.”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “I like the way you talk to me.”

Eddie purses his lips and smiles - it seems shy to you, but you can’t be sure. “So…you think we could, you know, maybe get another drink sometime?”

You fall back onto your car and throw one arm loosely over your face, giggling softly. You feel Eddie grip your still-bare thighs and roll your face down to peek out at his bright, hopeful face. “Yeah, I think we could make that happen.”

#okayyyyyy sorry i'm reposting this but i want to see if it does better in the morning vs at night on a saturday lol #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson/reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanart #stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things season 4 #stranger things season four

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besotted-eros · 3 years

Text

a little green

Pairing: Eren x f!reader

Genre: Smut

Content: mentions of choking, breeding, exhibitionism, unprotected sex, jealousy, use of term "daddy".

Summary: Why would you ever mention another man to Eren? You knew what it would do to him.

You winced as the tin cup hit the floor, the clattering making your body cringe away. After all that effort to carefully extract yourself from Eren's tight grip, creep out of your bedroom, and begin the preparations for breakfast as silently as you could, it was a simple cup that destroyed it.

"Stupid fucking thing." You swore as you knelt to grab it. But before your fingers met the metal, another hand wrapped around the handle.

He was behind you suddenly, making you pitch forward with a start and grab the counter for support. The hairs on the back of your neck rose as you felt him. He was heat, commanding your attention and filling your brain even though he was behind you.

"Eren, dear God. It woke you up that fast?" You exclaimed as your boyfriend chuckled. He placed the cup on the counter in front of you, wrapping his free arm around your waist.

"Been awake for a bit now." His raspy voice purred against the back of your head. "You think I stay asleep when you're not beside me?" The expanse of his chest was against you, the jut of his hips. Every angular line of his body, from bare chest to thighs, finding its place against your own. His hand traced lazy circles on your waist as you busied yourself with readying a pan with eggs and sliced meat.

"You don't get leave often, I just wanted you to sleep in once. Your friends are coming for lunch, and then you'll be off again tonight. You deserve some rest." You responded, raising your cheek when his hand closed around your chin. He pressed his lips to your skin, holding you for a moment before letting his fingers trail down your neck.

"Don't you know waking up beside you is my greatest pleasure? Nice to see something pretty in the morning, besides Armin's snoring face." He murmured, tracing along your collar bone. He leaned into you heavily, sleep still thick in his voice. You had to admit the tenor of it made you warm.

"If you let me live in the city with you, we'd be able to do it more often." You said, flipping the eggs expertly. You grabbed for spices, your movement hindered by the lanky form clinging to you.

"Told you, want you outta harms way. Danger finds that city. You're safe here. I like the thought of you here." His lips found your neck as he spot, peppering kisses along the exposed skin. He kissed along the marks he left last night, the tokens of his love.You felt your knees weaken at it, but tried to keep your composure. "Scouts stationed nearby, lots of space. Kind village. You can grow here, y/n."

"Grow away from you?" You asked, your tone light and teasing. Eren stiffened against you, and the arm around your waist tightened. His lips were stilled, resting above where your heartbeat pressed against your skin. "Maybe I'll put down roots with some nice village boy. The miller's son always slides me more grain than I come to him with."

You had moved the pan off of the heat, and for a moment the only sounds were of the crackling fat. "Really?" Eren asked, his fingers digging into your hip as he came alive behind you. He moved you, grip firm as he pulled you from the stove, pivoting on his heel so he could press you over the counter top. Another line grew against you, from where the curve of your ass met his hips.

"Does he get like this when he sees you?" Eren asked as he pressed his quickly hardening shaft to you. His voice was darker now, his hand moving from your collar bone to cup your breast through the thin linen of your blouse.

"Do you think he wants to grab these? Touch them the way I do?" His fingers massaged the soft flesh, making you bite your lower lip as you struggled to contain a cry of surprise and pleasure. Your gentle teasing had awoken something, something you knew lied in wait. But you didn't realise it would come this fast. You reached behind you, stroking your fingers through his hair. He had put it up in a bun.

"No." He growled, snatching your hand and pinning it to the counter. He straightened up as he pushed your torso down, keeping his hips in contact with your ass. "Don't get to touch me when you're looking at other men. Don't get to touch me, gotta teach you a lesson." He snarled. You hated how undone you were by his words, the warmth in your stomach now a raging bonfire as he furiously rubbed against you, letting you feel his desire. His hand curled on the back of your head, keeping your face pressed into the cool wood.

"E-eren..." You hissed through gritted teeth, your back arching in desperation to attain more touch, more of him.

"Now you wanna say my name, huh?" You could head the grin in his voice, the triumph of making you his. He grabbed the fabric of your skirt, quickly pushing it above your thighs. "You wanna act like a good girl now because you know you're in trouble." His palm found your ass, groping it lewdly before pulling back to give your left cheek a resounding spank. You jerked forward, yelping out in surprise Erens teeth grazed over his lower lip, the sound of you making his cock jump with want. He slapped the other cheek, eyes dancing at the sight of how your flesh trembled and shook at his behest.

"God, you're not even wearing anything under your skirt. That fucking desperate huh?" He asked, returning his hips to rub his bulge against your exposed lips, now separated by only the thin layer of the cotton trousers he slept in. "Is this how you go to see him, huh? Tell me." He growled, forcing your legs further apart as you scrabbled against the counter for purchase.

"N-no! Only for you, I only do that for you." You gasped, and Eren grinned. He pushed down the waistband of his pants, letting his throbbing cock free before pressing it against your pussy. He avoided the aching hole, instead dragging himself back and forth between your wet lips. The head bumped against your clit as he thrust, making you flinch with pleasure. One hand rested on your waist, holding you in place while the other curled around your throat.

"Why? Why do you do that for me?" He was purring now, and you could feel locks of hair coming lose from his bun.

"Because... Because I'm yours." You murmured, and his grip on your throat tightened. He would never hurt you, he was always so careful. But he loved seeing your face turn red, loved knowing that you trusted him with your life.

"Say it again. Prove it." He demanded, moving to grab his shaft and line the head with your pussy.

"I'm yours! Fuck, Eren fuck me please, I'm just yours okay? I'm only yours, I'm forever yours! There's no other man, there's no other anything!" You were begging now, twisting to look back at him. The sight was something to behold.

His jaw was slack, emerald eyes thick with lust as he gazed back at you. It was like he was ready to consume you, to eat your being whole and lick his fingers after. His chest stuttered with breath, firm abs flexing as he curled his hips up.

"That's right. Yeah baby, that's right." He cooed, reaching up to stroke a finger across your cheek. You turned your head, pressing your lip to his wrist as he groaned.

"Only mine." He whispered, and you felt him against your entrance, spreading it with his thick head.

"Forever mine." Your face was against the counter again, gasps escaping as he pressed forward, inch by cloying inch. You fit him like a glove, and he groaned in appreciation at your hot, wet walls closing around him.

He gave you a moment to adjust to his immense length, his hand now soft in your hair. He stroked through it once, from your scalp to the tip. Fingers twisting around your locks, eyes gentle as he felt their silk.

And then, he was fucking you. Mercilessly, his hips snapping on the return to drive deeper and deeper. His cock pounded into you, hard enough to make you feel it in your stomach. When Eren let go, when you made Eren let go, there was no end. He would use you, please himself with your cunt until you were a sopping mess under him.

All you could do was urge him forward.

"Eren, it's so good, so fucking good yeah, yeah please... Please give me more, p-please..." You managed to whine out, and he responded with a groan, leaning over you as he pulled your hips back, making you bounce against him.

"Like that? Fucking like that?" He hissed through gritted teeth. You nodded, letting out a cry of exasperation as he moved back, pulling out of you and leaving you hollow.

You didn't have time to complain, as he deftly moved you onto your back.

"There. Wanna see your face, see your pretty face while I..." He held your thighs, spreading them wide as he pushed back inside you with a grunt. It was a smooth motion, one that sent your eyes rolling back into your head. You grabbed at him, at his broad muscular shoulders, at his firm chest and torso.

"No one... Makes you feel like this... No one in the world. No one but me." He whispered, his eyes locked onto your face, your expression of pure bliss sending waves of pleasure through out him. He loved the feeling of you clinging onto him, your once independent and powerful body reduced to a little toy for him. Let other men stare, let them ply you with gifts. He lifted you up, becoming your only anchor to the world as his fingers dug into your ass, making you bounce on his shaft in a way that made his knees weak. At the end of the day, you were his. His only. His cocksleeve. His lover. No matter how little nights he spent in your bed, no matter how far away he was from you.

But how to make others see that?

Your face was pressed against his taunt neck, your moans filling the small house.

"Shall I fuck a baby into you, y/n?" Eren asked, his voice clear and ringing in your ears like a bell. It cut through the haze of your pleasure as you processed it, and then it came back tenfold. Eren grinned as he felt your reaction, the way your pussy tightened on him. The way your moans increased.

"Oh, you like that huh? Like the thought of me breeding you?" He purred, fingers gripping onto you harder. You were coming close to the edge, on that rocky cliff before cloud nine. And he was getting you there faster than you ever had.

"Y-yes, I d-do..." You squeaked out as he bit into your shoulder, trying to quell his own rising heat. He stilled you for a moment, letting you catch your breath and kissing away the noises while you whined. He walked forward, balancing you precariously on the head of his hard dick as he reached the front door. Eren put you down, turning you to face the doorway as his hand snaked around, unlocking it and pulling open. You looked upon your front yard, at the flowers you grew, the field of wheat across the narrow lane. It was quiet, it was peaceful.

"Eren?" You questioned, turning to look at him. Wordlessly he pushed you towards it, making you grasp the door frame as he moved your skirt up. He pulled your hips towards him, and you were bent over, legs being forced open.

"Someone will see Eren, sometimes p-people take this road." You whimpered, and your only response was a dark chuckle.

"Give them something to look at then." He growled as he pushed his way inside of you, dragging against your puffy wet walls. You moan in unison with him and he held onto you tightly as his hips began to move.

"Gonna fucking breed you, gonna fucking breed you." He chanted, panting with each thrust. His hair was wild now, eyes shining in the early morning sun. The cool midday air attempted to calm your bodies, to dull the passion. But nothing could.

"Y-your friends! They're gonna be here so-soon... Eren oh my god!" You were blubbering now, feeling your wetness course down your legs as your man ruthlessly pounded you from behind. He reached around, and there was a sound of tearing that joined the squelching of your sex. The breeze run across your breasts as he exposed them, pawing at them wontonly as he bent over you.

"These are gonna get so full, Y/n. You ready for that? Ready to make me a daddy? Want the world to see. Want the world to know what you let me do to you."

Your vision was blurry, pleasure and tears making your head feel as though it was full of burning cotton. All that existed right now was Eren. The way you touched you, the way he undid you, the way he took you and made you nothing but his.

"Yes." You repeated, clutching at the frame when his fingers found your clit. His chest was against your back, bending you over further as he rut you like a bitch.

"Say it. Say you want my load. Say you want my babies." He commanded, the pads of his fingers glancing over your throbbing button over and over.

"I want your cum Eren, I want your cum, breed me, please breed my pussy I'll make you a daddy let me make you a daddy, let me-" your voice spilled into the open air, a loud moan cutting your begging short as your pussy tightened around Eren's cock, pulsating as you creamed for him. The sensation was too much for him, and he reciprocated eagerly, shooting stream after stream of hot cum into you.

With a groan Eren let himself fall from you, pulling you up to straighten and closing the door.

"I'm sorry about your blouse." He murmured as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He walked backwards toward the couch, wrapping his arms around your waist and guiding you down with him. "Got ahead of myself." He whispered. You kissed, the panting of your breaths mingling as his sweet lips moved against yours. This was always when he was most gentle, most soft.

"'s okay, you just owe me a new one." You lay against him, enjoying the way his body thrummed underneath you. You'd miss this tonight. This warmth, his hands smoothing your hair back.

"I'll have some things sent down with the next supply for the scouts. There will be grain for you too in there,already milled." You raised your head, your brow furrowed.

"And what does that mean?" You snapped, but your anger quelled when he smiled. Smiles from Eren were so rare. It caught you off guard, stopped the scolding in your throat.

"Just teasing." He replied, pulling you up for another kiss.

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levi-lover · 4 years

Text

Say my name

Levi x fem!reader

W/C: 1935

T/W: Smut, 18+, Female Masturbation, slight choking

A/N: I’m going through a writer’s block #rip so I edited the first smut piece I wrote back in December. It’s not my best but hey we all gotta start somewhere!

You sat at the kitchen table, hunched over a book, entrenched into the words on the page. As the climax began to unravel, you swung your leg onto the chair and put your weight on your foot so you could lean closer to the table, closer to the book. Your body began to shake as you frantically read the pages, turning each furiously.

You noticed you had less than ten pages to go, you slid your body closer to the table causing the ball of your foot to press against your core. You let out a small sigh, surprised by the sudden arousal. No, not now. Let me finish the book! You ignored the feeling but you kept on pressing your weight to your foot. You finished the book in a rush and as you closed the spine of the book, you let out a small sigh and untangled your legs from underneath you.

“Wow,” you said out loud to the empty room. That was amazing, I can’t wait to tell Levi. After months of him pestering you to read the dang book, you finally read it. You hated to admit it but Levi was right, you did love it. You rolled your eyes at the thought of his stupid smug face tell you he told you were going to love it. Whatever at least I’ll have someone to talk about it with. Speaking of his stupid smug face, where is he? You looked over at the stove clock 4:23 it read.

He had left over an hour ago to get groceries. He was normally quick and efficient, never gone for more than 40 minutes. Maybe he got caught up in traffic? You leaned back in the chair remembering the pressure in your core, you pressed your legs together and began to rub them. You closed your eyes in relief, another sigh escaped your mouth. You sat on your leg again, using your foot to apply pressure to yourself. As your body moved against your foot, your core began to tingle, with your left hand you grabbed your lower back and pushed yourself further into your foot, a moan escaped your mouth. You wished it would be Levi’s hands squeezing your lower back, hips, and thighs as he laid under your body, you wished you could be feeling his cock growing hard underneath you.

“Fuck, where is that man? I need him.”

You walked down the hallway into your shared bedroom. You sat at the foot of the bed, throwing your body against the crisp sheets, your legs dangled off the bed. You kept your eyes closed as your hand reached to your crotch, your fingers gently rubbing the fabric, your hips began to move along with your fingers desperate to feel more but you kept a slow pace. Your right hand reached over to your left breast and you began to massage yourself, feeling your nipple slowly harden under your shirt. A moan escaped your lips as you began to rub harder against your core, you reached your hands under your leggings feeling yourself over your underwear. You imagined Levi was the one touching you, closing your eyes tight, you pictured him laying over you, moaning into your ear. Heat began to pour into your cheek. You pushed your underwear aside, using your middle finger you touched your entrance. You trailed your finger up your slit, pressed down on your clit. Starting to draw tiny circles around the bundle of nerves, you felt the pressure build inside of you. You pressed down and moaned out Levi’s name.

“Yes?” asked a deep voice from the doorway.

You rolled your head over and pulled the top of your body up. “Levi, you’re home!” Your hands still in your leggings, you smiled sheepishly at him. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

He chucked, “the lights were off. I assumed you were napping so I came in quietly. Tsk, looks like you were busy doing something else.”

Levi was leaning against the door, one eyebrow was up as he looked over at you with amusement on his face. You could tell he was trying not to laugh. You pulled your hands out of your pants.

“Oh, no. Don’t stop on my account, brat. Keep going” He walked over to you, the smell of pine and mint hitting your nose.

Fuck, I did a good job when I bought that cologne.

He was standing at the foot of the bed, looking down at you. His arms folded across his broad chest, his dark hair gently floating over his gray eyes. He put both arms on either side of your body as he leaned over, his legs spread over yours. You squirmed as you felt his breath near your face, you looked down overwhelmed by the heat coming off of your checks. He used his right hand to gently grab your face, his fingers were warm and firm. A sigh escaped your lips as he tilted your head up, forcing you to make eye contact with him. You saw the excitement and arousal in his eyes as he examined your face. He loved looking at you when you were like this, he loved knowing he was turning you on without even having to do anything to you. It made him feel powerful and it made him feel loved.

As much as he loved giving you pleasure, he also loved making you wait for it. He looked at your lips, they were parted as small, jagged breaths escaped from your chest. His cock began to press against his jeans as he looked over you. He wanted to fuck you so bad but he knew he had to wait.

He lowered his head and began to whisper into your ear, “are you gonna stop touching that pretty little pussy ‘cause I’m here, huh?”

You closed your eyes and moaned, you felt yourself getting wetter. You loved it when he talked dirty to you. He placed his hands on your neck and began choking you gently. He pushed you onto the bed.

“Go to the top of the bed. That’s an order”

You nodded and whispered, “yes, sir.”

You laid your head on your pillow and looked back to Levi, he was on his knees staring at you from the bottom of the bed.

“Take off your shirt.” You pulled off the shirt you were wearing and tossed it somewhere in the room. “Good girl. Pull down your leggings and only your leggings.”

You yanked down the fabric as Levi watching, smirking. You laid back, feeling the cool air of the room touch your naked body, goosebumps appeared on your stomach and thighs. Levi looked at you, waiting for you to make eye contact before he made his next order. He loved to look directly into your eyes during sex, he loved knowing you were fully present with him, that you needed him.

“Touch yourself but if you even dare to put a finger inside, you’ll get punished, okay?”

“Mmmm” you mumbled, as you began to rub yourself again, the pleasure from before quicking rising inside of you; knowing that Levi was watching you turned you on even more.

“Am I joke to you?”

“N-,o” you mustered out as your body began to tense, a coil starting to form inside of your stomach.

“Then answer me when I speak to you, got it, slut?” Levi’s voice became rough and dark, he wasn’t joking around.

“Y-yes, what do I do next?” you moaned.

“I want you to keep on rubbing yourself, do a good job for me.” You peaked over at Levi and who started to rub himself through his jeans. He was biting his bottom lips trying to hold in a moan. You arched your back at the beautiful sight.

“Start fucking yourself,” he ordered.

“Yes, Levi.” You start by putting in one finger and curl it into your body, slowly you insert one more, you could feel every inch of yourself. The noise of your wet cunt and moans filled the air. Levi let go of his moan and he began to unzip his jeans. Fuck, I love him so much. You squeezed your eyes shut and focused on Levi’s moans.

“I want to hear you say my name.”

“Yes, Levi.” you took your fingers out of your entrance and ran them back up your slit, your back arched at your touch, this was good but it would feel so much better if it was Levi doing this to you. You started touching your clit again, circling around it, the coil getting tighter and tighter. From the bottom of the bed, you heard the sound of Levi’s hands on his cock, you bit your lip just thinking about it.

“I told you to say my name like the good girl you are”

You threw your head back and started shouting Levi’s name.“F-fuck, Levi.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Levi tossed his head back, he was holding his cock in his angular hands, stoking it up and down. He wanted to shove it inside of you, you were so wet and all he had to do was boss you around. He smiled at the thought of you fucking yourself to the memory of him.

“Mmm Levi, ‘m close.” You rotated between rubbing circles around your clit to pressing down on it, As the coil snapped, your back arched and pleasure flooded your body, your legs began to pulse. You looked over to see Levi’s face twisted in joy as his cock twitched in his hands and white strings of cum shot out from the tip. He looked at it with content before pulling off his t-shirt to clean off his hands. He glanced up at you and smirked, “that’s my good girl.”

You let out a sigh of relief and held your arms open, inviting him to come in. He chuckled before crawling his way to you. He rested his head in the crook of your neck, wrapping his toned arms around you. Levi placed small kisses on your skin, his hands caressed your waist with a feather-soft touch. You started trailing circles around his back. He loved when you touched him like this, so gentle and full of love.

“I missed you,” you whispered.

“Tsk, I wasn’t even gone long.”

“Yeah, but you were gone longer than usual, it was pure pain!”

He laughed at your dramatic nature.

“I guess since you couldn’t keep my name out of your lips.”

“Fuck you.”

“I know you want to,” he retorted.

“Whatever, anyways what took you so long? I finished the book and I wanted to talk about it!”

“I see. That’s why you were moaning my name. I had to wait for them to stalk up on someone’s favorite brand of oat milk. But you liked it, huh? I knew you would.” You didn’t even have to look at face to see the smug expression he was making.

“Yeah, I did like it, so what? But wait you got me oat milk? Doesn’t that need to be refrigerated?” you asked. The both of you had been going at for a while now.

Levi jumped out of you arms and shouted, “fuck! I didn’t put the groceries away!”

“Haha, loser!”

“Shut up, Brat. Help me put them away and then I’ll actually fuck you.”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” You shouted like a soldier getting ready for battle. You put clean clothes on and raced him to the kitchen. When Levi said he was going to do something he would do it.

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cazimagines · 3 years

Text

Try not to forget me

Synopsis: Anon request: Can we have a reader who slept with Zemo when they were younger, they were basically each other’s first times. Reader was brought to the mission and when Sam mentions Zemo she only limits herself to saying that she knows him assuming she knows him from civil war. At some point, Zemo mentions it to Sam and since he can’t contain himself he has to ask reader to be sure. Maybe some smut, like ‘I don’t remember you being this good’

Word count: 8.5k

Author’s note: Welp it took me a while but it's finally here! I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I am such a sucker for the trope of seeing someone you once dated years after not seeing them again. Like give me all of that. Also I changed a little bit of the request but not much.

Warnings: Gun shots, SMUT (for mature audiences), Fingering, Vaginal sex, Stripping

Masterlist

(Please check out my master list to see what I will be writing next and if requests are open or closed)

Cross-posted to ao3 under the same username

Fingers fumbled with the clasp, the feeling of lips trailing up your thigh, sweet whispers in the air,

‘My princess, my everything’

His kisses on your neck, the desperation in his voice

‘I need you, all of you’

His fingers dug into your hips, his body moving like waves on top of you.

You call out his name to the night, losing yourself in the passion that consumed you.

Your hand tangled in his hair, tugging roughly which elicited a moan from his lips.

His eyes sparkled as he reached his first climax with you, ‘You’ll always be mine’

You woke up still with the taste of his lips upon your mouth. You felt the ghost of him linger on top of you, clinging to that long-ago memory.

But all things fade with time and the cold reality pulled you from the once pleasant dream drenched in sorrow. Sighing you pulled yourself off the made-up bed on the floor, already grabbing a hair tie to pull the bird’s nest of your hair out of your face. You hop over to where your prosthetic leg laid and strapped it onto your thigh.

Grabbing your phone you notice a few miss call from an old friend, calls you must have slept through. Pressing the number you hold it up to your ear as you wander around the apartment preparing for your day.

On the third ring, he picked up.

“Sam?” you ask

“Y/n! I wasn’t sure if I would hear back from you, it’s been a while”

“Yeah, things have been keeping me busy. It’s not like how it was when we were in the army”

You could hear him chuckle down the line, “It’s strange, I would have thought my time in the army would have been the craziest part of my life, but it’s hard to beat all the stories I have of aliens”

“At least you have stories to tell, what do I have? I served for a few years as a new American citizen, almost died a few times till one day I got shot in the leg”

“I don’t know losing your leg is one hell of a story, but speaking of almost losing your life. You remember that time I was able to pull you away from a landmine and you told me, ‘oh Sam thank you so much, I owe you so much’” Sam says down the line in a squeaky voice

“Since when have I ever spoken like that Sam? And why do I have a feeling I’m not going to like where this is going”

“Well that’s because it is time for me to cash in that favour”

That’s how you found yourself arriving at an airport, searching around to find Sam. As you walked around the corner you could make out what seemed to be three figures in the distance. As you got nearer one of them noticed you, and started waving exaggeratingly making you chuckle.

You finally reach him as Sam pulls you into a firm hug. “It’s good to see you again y/n,” he says as you pull away.

“Yes, after all these years of avoiding me” you quip making him laugh

“You know I’d never avoid you! It’s you who has always found an excuse to get out of meeting up with old friends”

“Well I’m here now”

“Speaking of old friends, let me introduce to you this man, 106 years old, dermatologists hate him”

The man Sam referred to now stepped forward, holding out his hand, “Hi, I’m Bucky” he says, smiling slightly as you shake his hand.

“Y/n, you look good for your age”

“He moisturises” Sam buts in making Bucky send him a look, “It’s complicated” he mutters and you nod.

“I met Steve once, I understand,” you tell him, making his eyes light up at the mention of his old friend.

“Super soldier serum, the ability to be almost immortal, another reason as to why we have all gathered here to prevent it”

A shiver ran through your spine as you heard that long ago accent which you had removed from your voice. You focus on the man behind Sam, someone you should have noticed when you first appeared.

It had been over twenty years since you had last seen him yet you could still recognise the way his lips twitched up at the sides but dipped in the middle, the softness of his warm brown eyes, and the slight angular twist his eyebrows had. His hair was more well kept than when you had last seen him. Then he was still going through his rebellious phase, letting his hair grow unkempt but now he had a sense of refinement about him. He knew he was ageing like fine wine and now instead of trying to rebel from the prestigious life he had like when you knew him, he lavished in it, enjoying the money that was of so easy access to him and spent it on all the finer luxuries of life.

“Y/n, this is Zemo. You might remember seeing him on the news, he’s the one who framed Bucky”

You knew him more than that, more than any of them could ever know him. The dream from this morning swarmed your thoughts again, taunting you as if your brain knew what was to come.

Sokovia had been your home country, a place you had longed to forget, leave dead. Zemo, Helmut, was your childhood friend. You couldn’t remember the time when you first met as it felt like he had always been in your life. Everything you two did, you did together. Attending the same schools, going around to each other’s houses, exploring the wildness together. You two were closer than siblings. Your family had nowhere as near the same money as Zemo’s family had, yet that didn’t seem to matter, at least not when you were children. It was no surprise to people when eventually you two started dating. There had been bets on how long it would take for Zemo to gather the courage to ask you out. You and Zemo had been each other’s firsts, first partner, first kiss, first making love, which is where your dream had come from. It was cringy to say it but you felt like you loved him with every inch of your soul, and you knew Zemo was just as dedicated to you.

That’s why the break-up was so messy.

You were the one who called it. You had to. Zemo might have been blind to what it meant to be a Baron at that time but you weren’t. His parents allowed him to have his little indulges, allowed you two to be friends, to date. But at the end of the day, he would always be from the higher class and your family from the lower class. They would of never let you two marry so you had to call off the relationship before you got too deep, to save yourself some pain. You’d hoped that you two could still be friends, though it would have hurt, you still wanted to be around him but that was never meant to be.

At first, he didn’t believe you, he laughed it off as a good joke till he realised you were being serious. Then was the confusion, he wouldn’t let you leave. He needed to know what he did wrong, what could have happened for you to want to break up with him. Then was the obsession. He wouldn’t leave you alone, turning up to your house every day to beg for another chance, following you around trying to pick the relationship back up, threatening any guy that went near you. Then the heartbreak when he finally accepted it was over. He didn’t leave his house for months, you heard rumours he drank himself to sleep most nights, till one time at the dead of the night you found him pounding on your door, shouting to let him in. He was pissed and crying, imploring at you to give him a second chance, begging for you to tell him what he could do to get back with you. He would do anything, give you all his money, abandon his family and run away with you. You helped him back home and told him to leave you alone. And to give it to him he did because then came the anger. You would see him outside and he would pretend he didn’t even know who you were. You’d walk past and accidentally hit shoulders and he shouted at you to watch where you were going. Soon he would be seen with lots of different women, taking them to all the places he took you, dancing at parties. Whenever you looked over to them they were making out and it pained you deeply for what you had to give up. Eventually, you ran away. You couldn’t keep torturing yourself seeing Zemo move on with someone else while you were still suffering on the inside, not just for losing the boy you love but the person who had been your best friend for as long as you could remember.

You left Sokovia to live in America, completely ridding yourself of your whole past identity. There you decided to enlist in the Army which is where you had met Sam, served with him for a few years till you were forced to retire early due to losing your leg. You checked up on Zemo every once in a while, it wasn’t too hard with the Sokovian news constantly obsessing over him. He married the woman he moved onto, the one you always saw making out with him. You suppose he truly must have loved her because it was your birthday when his son was born. While he celebrated the happiest day of his life you spent the day at the bottom of a bottle drinking away the loneliness. You still remember the moment you found out what had happened to Sokovia. You hadn’t been back there in years but it was still your home, where you had all of your fond memories, now all gone.

You didn’t see anything in the news about Zemo after that, he and his family completely vanished so you had to assume the worst. Till you finally saw him on the news. It was hardly like the boy you once knew. The Zemo you knew was kind, empathetic, caring, beautiful in every way he could be yet the man you saw there was a murderer, cold-hearted, reckless. What had happened to the boy you once knew?

You could make guesses, his family was nowhere in sight and you could only imagine how losing the woman you love and your child could hurt you. You hated imagining all the pain Zemo has gone through.

“Yes, I remember seeing him on the news,” you tell Sam. Both you and Zemo stared at each other, your eyes unwavering.

He knew who you were. He knew from the moment you turned around that corner. As he watched you warmly greet Sam and shake hands with Bucky. He watched the person he never thought he would see again stand right in front of him, not even noticing him.

But now you stood there, staring him down. Both of you almost speaking through your eyes. Would the other one bring up the past? Try to acknowledge all that has happened between you or is that dead, left forgotten. Will you two pretend to have never met before, letting years of memories fade.

Zemo was first to speak.

“I see my reputation isn’t too favourable”

“That’s what you get for blowing up the UN,” you say scowling at him as you cross your arms

Zemo opens his mouth to say something but Sam gets here first, “Y/n served in the Army with me so you better be careful with what you say Zemo”

Zemo’s eyes then flicker back to you tilting his head, like he always used to do, in interest.

“Why is he even here?” you ask, finally pulling your eyes away from him to Sam and Bucky

Sam turns to Bucky with a plastered on a fake smile, “Why don’t you explain Bucky”

Bucky sighs as he glances over to you, “As Sam mentioned to you on the call we are trying to track down this group of super-soldiers called the Flag Smashers. We need Zemo here to help us track down where they got the serum and help us so no one else becomes a super-soldier”

“And you trust him?” you scoff, glaring back to Zemo who just smirked at you

“We have no other choice” Bucky mutters, scowling over at Zemo

“I can assure you, I won’t do anything to betray your trust. For once all of our goals are aligned that it would do us no good to go against each other.”

“I’ll hold judgment till later,” you reply bitterly.

Swifty Zemo swings on the heels of his feet, turning around to start walking away, obviously expecting all of you to follow him. Sighing in annoyance you trail after him.

As you had predicted both you and Zemo were pretending to not know each other, perhaps for the sake of the mission or perhaps for the sake of your well beings. You’re not sure if you could cope even acknowledging the past you two had. He’d been the person you had been closest to, someone you shared all your secrets, all your thoughts and feelings with. Someone who you would have taken a bullet for in the blink of an eye and to suddenly lose all of that, it wrecked you. You had finally managed to build yourself up again, to try and move on and then he comes straight back into your life. It’s as if there is some strange omnipotent god up there and it loved to torment every waking moment of your life.

“So all this time you’ve been rich?” Sam asks and you all catch up with Zemo and see him walking towards what you assumed was his private aeroplane.

“I’m a Baron, Sam, my family was royalty till your friends blew up my country”

There was a slight change of tone for when he said ‘my’ not enough for Sam and Bucky to pay attention to it but enough for you to feel the slight twist in your heart as you thought back to the country that used to be yours, long ago.

As you got closer you observed a man standing by the plane, ready to welcome Zemo aboard and you felt your heart stop for a moment. Oeznik. The man had aged since you last saw him, he had fallen to the tolling of time but he still had those warm, caring eyes.

Memories swept over you of your childhood as you observed him. He has always been Zemo’s assistant, hired by Zemo’s parents when they were much younger. You could remember times when you and Zemo would be running down the corridors, not where you were supposed to be and Oeznik would find you two, not telling you off but smiling at you two, saying how Zemo’s parents were looking for him. He would sneak you two Turkish delights even if it was only an hour before dinner. Anywhere you two wanted to go he would drive you there. Whenever you slept over he would prepare your favourite meals, making sure everything was just how you liked in the room you would stay in. He was almost like another father figure to you and Zemo.

And now there he was, greeting Zemo. Zemo kissed him on the cheeks fondly before heading inside. Sam and Bucky both follow up but you take a moment to turn to look at him.

“Oeznik” you whisper

He smiles warmly down at you, placing his hand on the side of your arm. “It’s good to see you again madam”

You nod your head, unable to say anymore without letting your emotions get the better of you so you choose to head inside.

You could feel his eyes on you as you enter. You glance up to him and you know he knows why you took a little longer to get onto the plane. It was that knowing look in his eye, the slight twinkle of amusement but also sadness.

You frown realising you’d have to take a seat opposite Zemo, Sam and Bucky already choosing to sit on the other side, showing their dislike for him. You freeze for just a moment making Zemo gesture to the seat in front of him, smirking as he tilts his head. You huff, not bothering to hide your displeasure, taking the seat in front of him but refusing to even look at him.

A few minutes later Zemo chuckles as Oeznik brings out two drinks, a glass of champagne which he offers to Zemo, and a glass of rum which he offers to you. You’re favourite drink. After all this time he still remembered.

You kindly thanked Oeznik, taking the glass as you avoid the confused eyes of Sam who was wondering why you got a drink and he didn’t and the eyes of Zemo, which held an emotion you couldn’t quite recognise.

“The food is out but I will see if there is some good food in a gallery,” he tells Zemo and starts to turn away but then Zemo speaks.

“If it doesn’t pass the food test, give it to them,” he says, speaking in sokovian and gesturing to Sam and Bucky.

You weren’t prepared for the surge of pain in your heart as you heard Zemo use the language of your people. Though it had been over twenty years since you last heard it, you could still remember it perfectly.

Oeznik laughs, “It’s good to have you back sir,” he says, then nods to you before leaving again. Zemo smiles at Sam and Bucky, enjoying the notion of how they didn’t know what he said, before his eyes swiftly turn back to you, knowing you know exactly what he said.

He takes a swing of his drink before speaking again, “It’s kind of him to remember your go-to drink” he says in Sokovian.

And there it was. The first acknowledgement of the past between you two. Your eyes burn into his head as you realise just what he was doing. It was a test. He spoke in Sokovian for just you to understand, seeing if you were to take the bait and talk back in Sokovian. He wanted to see if you were willing to acknowledge the past between you two as well.

But Sam and Bucky had no idea where you were from. As far as they knew from your accent you were American and you planned to keep that secret. You weren’t going to play in Zemo’s little game, you refused to take your turn. Instead, ignoring what he had said to stare at the ground.

He waits for a few moments before accepting you weren’t going to reply. Sighing he turns to Sam and Bucky.

“You don’t know what it’s like to be locked in a cell” he starts “Oh, that’s right, you do” he then carries on, taunting them. If he can’t mess with you then he’ll mess with them.

“Why don’t you tell us about where you are going” Sam replies, ignoring Zemo’s attempt at taunting.

Zemo then instead turns to the book in his hand, thumbing through it. “Sorry, I was just fascinated by this. I don’t know what to call it but this part seems to be important. Who is Nakajima?” he asks turning to Bucky

Instantly Bucky was out of his seat, his hand around Zemo’s throat pulling him back as he leans in towards his face.

“If you touch that again, I’ll kill you” he whispers

Zemo nods as Bucky lets him go, letting out a slight breath he had been holding in. Bucky glares as Zemo has he takes his seat again.

“I’m sorry. I understand that list of names. People you’ve wronged as the Winter Soldier.”

“But you’re not sorry” you abruptly say, making all eyes turn to you. “Ever since we’ve sat down you’ve been taunting us, trying to stir up trouble. Soon your annoyance will outweigh any use you have for us”

“I’m sorry if I have caused you any offence, Princess, it is never my intention to upset any of you”

But it was. It fucking was. Because he knew just how much pain that nickname brought to your heart. Princess. That’s what he had always referred to you as when you dated. In his eyes, you were a princess, his princess. You clench your jaw, trying to stop the tears that swelled in your eyes. Something Zemo picked up on and himself felt pained seeing your reaction.

“Don’t call her Princess. Her name is y/n” Sam says, glaring at Zemo.

“My apologies, it was my fault to refer to your girl like that”

Instantly both yours and Sam’s eyes widen at his words.

“We’re not, that’s not-” Sam starts to say, fumbling with his words

“We’re just friends” you but in, glaring at Zemo for you knew why he said that.

“Y-yeah” Sam replies, looking between you and Zemo as you stare at each other. Zemo tilts his head slightly, the edge of his lips twitching up.

“I see”

“Now perhaps you could stop taunting us, Zemo, and answer Sam’s original question about where the hell we are going”

If you had blinked you would have missed it but just for a split second, as his last name fell from your lips, you could see him flinch. These days everyone referred to him by his last name, never his first name. And although in the past you had always called him by his first name, you, like them, were using his last name. That hurt more than he thought it would.

“I’m afraid I can’t say just yet, but all will be relieved in due time’

You just groan, rolling your eyes and then choosing to stare out the window trying to forget all about the man that sat in front of you.

Hoping to alleviate the conversation Sam nods to the book Bucky took back from Zemo.

“I’ve seen that book, it’s Steve’s book for when he came out of the ice. I told him about trouble man. He wrote it in that book. Did you hear it? What did you think?”

“I like 40’s music so…” Bucky grumpily replies

“You didn’t like it!?” Sam exclaims leaning forward

“I liked it”

“It’s a masterpiece James. Complete. Comprehensive. It captures the African American experience” Zemo buts in, speaking with his hands as he looks over to Bucky

Sams’s eyes face moves from looking at Bucky, to looking at Zemo then back to Bucky.

“He’s out of line, but he’s right. It’s great. Everybody likes Marvin Gaye”

Inside your head, you scoff at Zemo as he talked as if he was sophisticated with music, ‘like you didn’t listen to Nirvana all the time’ you thought. From that point you ignored what they were saying, sipping your drink as you stare out the window. Today had taken a complete turn from what you ever could have imagined it would have turned out to be. And little did you know it was about to get a whole lot messier.

“No fucking way. You can’t make me do that”

“You have to if you want to blend in for the mission” Zemo explains

“She can blend in, in many other ways, she doesn’t have to pretend to be your partner,” Sam says arguing for you

“They will be suspicious of her though and it could risk the whole mission but if she was my partner they wouldn’t be suspicious”

“He’s right y/n” Bucky adds, “I don’t want to be doing this either but if we want to find out where the super-soldier serum has come from we need to”

Zemo nods to Bucky in thanks and then looks to you, the corner of his lip twitching up in amusement that Bucky was backing him up and seeing your anger.

He was deliberately trying to antagonise you. Making you pretend to be his partner for the mission, was his way to get back at you for the pain you caused him when you broke things off. You didn’t think you could cope with having to pretend to be his partner for it, it would just bring up all the pain of what had been lost between you two, what you had to let go of. But they were right. You had to do it for the sake of the mission. If Bucky could pretend to the winter soldier again for the mission the least you could do was this.

“Are you seriously taking his side Bucky, if she doesn’t want to be that then-” Sam starts to argue but you cut him off.

“It’s okay Sam, Bucky’s right I need to do it”

Sam opens his mouth in surprise and then moves over to stand in front of you, placing his hand on your shoulder. “No you don’t y/n, don’t listen to them”

You place your hand over Sam’s hand on your shoulder, rubbing it slightly. “I’ll be okay with it Sam. It’s not like I’d be dating him”

Your eyes flicker to Zemo who had been glaring at Sam now turned his eyes to you, his lips almost twitching into a frown but he stops them.

“I won’t wear that dress though,” you say, your eyes looking down to the short dress Zemo held in his arms.

He opens his mouth to argue against that as well but you stop him, “No Zemo, I won’t be wearing that, that is final”

He bites back his words, smacking his lips together as he nods, “If that is what you wish”

You weren’t ashamed of your prosthetic leg. It was a reminder to you for all you had given to people. But you weren’t about to walk around Madripoor with it being showed off to everyone. And a part of you wasn’t ready for Zemo to see you with it, though you don’t know why.

You hadn’t been to Madripoor before but it didn’t surprise you that Zemo knew the place well. It looked like the shady place you would find him in. As soon as you stepped out of the car Zemo’s arm wrapped around your waist. It fitted like nothing had changed in the time between. Your face instantly turned to him to tell him to let go but he held his finger up to your lips to stop you, “For appearance y/n, you are after all, for this evening, my partner”

Begrudgingly you accept it and don’t try to move his arm away as you walk together. Sam walks up beside you and as you turn to look at him he rolls his eyes. You chuckle at Sam then felt Zemo’s grip on your waist tighten.

As you walk into the bar Zemo takes a seat on the stool. You glance around but all the other seats had been taken. Smirking Zemo pats his lap, “Hop on princess”

You grasp onto his shoulder, pinching it harshly to cause him some pain as you position yourself on his lap, but he just chuckles at your reaction, his hand instantly going to rest on your tigh which was thankfully covered by your trousers.

“Don’t call me princess” you whisper angrily to him

He leans forward, his lips by your ear as you feel his breath, “We have to make it realistic princess, plus I think that would be the sought of a nickname I would give you if we were dating”

He presses a lip to your cheek as he pulls back from you, chuckling as he sees how your cheeks heat up and the glare you grace him with.

“Hello gentlemen and lady,” the barman says finally coming over to you, “I wasn’t expecting the smiling tiger”

“His plans changed, we have a business to do, with Selby,” Zemo says, trying to take over all conversation so no one gave themselves away.

“And she does as well?” he asks, nodding to you

“Anywhere I go she goes with me” Zemo replies, chuckling as he looks at you with a smile on his lips

“Isn’t that right princess?”

You try your best to push back the anger you felt, instead, forcing a smile as you look back at Zemo, “Of course my love” you tell him then leans forward to place a quick peck on his lips.

As your lips lightly brush against his you could hear the slight hitch in his breath and as you lean your head on his chest you wonder if he could feel how fast your heart was beating in your chest.

It’s just for appearances, that’s all you tell yourself but even though it was brief you could still feel the warmth of his lips on yours, that comforting feeling that you hadn’t felt in so long and it was as if all the buried emotions you had come flooding back. Here you were sitting on his lap, kissing him as if nothing had changed and for a moment you wondered if that could be the case. Could you two go back to what time was like before?

But you couldn’t. Not only was it down to the fact that Zemo was a wanted criminal, but he had moved on from you. He fell in love with another, he married her. Any feelings he had for you were long gone and this was just him messing with you, and you didn’t want to let him know the feelings you still had for him after all this time.

The barman seems to accept your display though, choosing to focus on Sam instead as he makes him his ‘usual’ drink.

Zemo orders you and him a drink which you thankfully take from his hand, hoping to drown your feelings away with the alcohol.

A man comes up behind you and instantly Zemo lifted you off your lap, pushing you behind him as he stands up to face the man.

“Got word from on high, you’re not welcomed here,” he tells Zemo,

“Hm” Zemo replies, nodding as he takes the man’s words, “I have no business with the power broker, but if he insists he can either come talk to me...” he finishes, nodding over to Bucky

“Or bring Selby for a chat”

The man leaves as Bucky looks over to Zemo. As Zemo turns around once again his arm wraps around your waist.

“A power broker, really?”

“Every kingdom needs its king. Let’s just pray we stay under his radar”

“Do you know him?” you ask and Zemo looks down at you amused by your question, “Only by reputation”

“In Madripoor he is judge, jury and executioner”

Zemo’s eyes focus now on another man coming towards him. Turning back around to the bar he speaks to Bucky in Russian just as the man places his hand on Zemo’s shoulder. You all turn around to watch as Bucky grabs the man and starts to attack him. You’d seen violence before but it still made you wince knowing how Bucky didn’t want to do this.

After one particular nasty hit without thinking your hand grasps onto his hand, needing something to hold on to. As soon as you realised what you had done you swiftly try to pull your hand back but Zemo holds onto it tight, refusing to let it go. You could feel his gaze turn to you but you choose to ignore his cocky face and instead focus on Bucky.

You stand out of the way as Bucky slams the man onto the table and Zemo leans forward to let Bucky know not to take it too far. That was your ticket though as then you were being shown the way to see Selby.

The meeting itself wasn’t too bad. Zemo held onto your hand as he pulled you over to sit with him. He talked to Selby while you just sat on his lap. Selby didn’t pay any attention to you, which you were thankful for. Things were going smoothly until Sam’s phone ringed.

That’s how you found yourself running along with Bucky, Sam and Zemo avoiding gunfire. As you ran you heard one gunfire and felt your prosthetic leg move slightly as the bullet went straight through it.

Zemo must have seen what happened as well, but not knowing you had a prosthetic leg, he wrapped his arms suddenly around your legs, picking you up bridal style. He ran off to the side, leaving Bucky and Sam behind as he hid you down an alleyway.

“Zemo let go of me!” you hissed, hitting him in the chest as he stopped running. He instead places you on the ground, growling at you not to move as he starts to check all his pockets in his coats. Instead, you do move, getting up off the floor and he looks at you angrily. “I said don’t move! You’ll injure yourself more”

You lean down and jank up slightly the trouser leg, showing the fake metallic leg underneath.

“I’m fine Zemo! It’s fake. Now we need to go and find Sam and Bucky”

But Zemo was frozen, staring down at your leg in shock. Because at that moment was the realisation for him. All this time he had been teasing you, testing the waters of how far he could push you to admit to the past. Messing around with you as if you were two lovesick teenagers again. But you had both changed, and he was refusing to realise that until now. Because he didn’t want to acknowledge the fact you were no longer the woman he once knew. The one person he knew better than himself and he had still half-believed that was the case until now. You had a fake leg, lost in what he assumed was the army which you and Sam had been in. He didn’t know because the truth was you were almost a stranger to him now, and he hated that. He just wanted things to be the way they once were. That’s what he desperately craved but it couldn’t be.

“Okay,” he simply says and nods, finally pulling his gaze away from your leg and up to you. Following your lead, he chases after you to find out where Sam and Bucky had gone.

Sam paced around the main room of Sharon’s house. His mind was occupied with so many thoughts it was hard to concentrate but there was one that stuck out like a splinter in a thumb. What the hell was going on between you and Zemo? He wasn’t stupid he could pick up on something, the looks two you gave each other, the tension in the air, the way you reacted when you first saw him. Sam considered himself your best friend, though you two hadn’t seen each other in ages. So it bugged him how this was obviously something big to you, and he didn’t know what it was.

Zemo sat at the table by the side, quietly drinking some whiskey. Both you and Bucky had decided to retire for the night while Sam decided to stay up just so he could find out the truth.

“You look like you are trying to burn a hole through my head by the way you are staring at me Sam” Zemo says, finally looking up from his glass to Sam who was glaring at him.

“Is something the matter?” he asks

“You and y/n. What’s up with that”

Zemo chuckles, looking back down into his glass, “Ah that”

“I’m her best friend, I know everything about her, apart from this apparently”

Zemo’s eyes snapped back to Sam but this time there was no amusement in them, instead a angry glaze as he frowned, “Best friend?” he repeats, standing up and walking over to Sam. “You hardly know her at all”

Sam scoffs as he raises an eyebrow at Zemo attempting to get into his face. “And you do?”

“Yes” Zemo instantly replies, “I know she was born in Novia Grand, Sokovia. Just like me. I know which schools she attended, the same as mine, I know what her favourite meals are, we had them whenever she came round to my house. I know her favourite band, I took her to their first concert. I know everything little thing about her Sam, and you know nothing”

Sam’s eyes widen at Zemo’s confession, realisation dawning on him. “You were childhood friends”

“More than friends Sam, we were lovers. We were the first people we dated, we were each other first kiss, we were each other first time” Zemo claims as if bragging to Sam

“Yet you didn’t know she was in the Army, you didn’t know she had a prosthetic leg did you?” Sam asks and when he sees the slight fall in Zemo’s face he smiles, “You used to know her Zemo, but obviously, you don’t know the person I know now”

With a pair of tweezers lent to you from Sharon, you pull your trouser leg up and search around in your prosthetic leg attempting to find the bullet lodged inside and pull it out. You could see the bullet but you couldn’t quite get the right angle to pull it out making you groan in annoyance.

You were about to throw the tweezers across the room in anger when you heard a knock against the door. You were currently sitting in one of Sharon’s guest rooms as lot were staying at Sharon’s place for the night to rest up then go and find the scientist tomorrow morning.

“Y/n?” you hear his voice call out from the other side

You sigh rolling your eyes, “What do you want” you snap

“May I come in? We need to talk”

“I don’t want to talk”

You hear the click of the door and Zemo pushes it open to stare at you in a slight annoyance. His eyes then move down to the tweezers in your hand and your leg. He takes a few steps towards you, his hand out as he closes the door.

“Let me”

You hesitate for a moment but finally, give in and hand him the tweezers. He pulls out a seat beside you and gently puts the tweezers through the hole in your leg.

“How did it happen?” he asks as he concentrates on your leg while at the same time trying to create polite conversation.

“Like most injuries out there. One of the soldiers was on the floor, shot a round of bullets into my leg. The doctor there couldn’t save my leg so I had to get it amputated”

He nods, finally grasping the bullet with the tweezers and started to pull it out. “Serving in the army, it’s admirable. Something very like you. I was in the Sokovian armed forces. EKO scorpion”

You nod as you watch him pull the bullet out and place it to the side. “I remember reading about it in the news”

His eyes, flickering to you, glimmer with amusement. “So you kept track of me?”

Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as he caught you out. You glance away from his intense stare instead to the table. “Did you really expect that I didn’t? You once were my best friend Zemo. It’s hard to let that go. I saw you got married, had a child. I’m sorry about what happened to them”

It was Zemo’s turn to look away now, feeling the pain in his heart ignite as he thinks back to his previous family. “My son, he was born on your birthday”

“I’m surprised you remember my birthday”

He smiles slightly, finally turning his eyes back to yours, “Of course I do. Every year I’d drink a toast to you. You said that I was your best friend and hard to let go of that. Well, it’s the same both ways y/n. I couldn’t just forget about your existence.”

“I had to leave” you whisper

“I know. I know why you left, and I know why you broke up with me in the first place”

Your eyes flash to his in surprise and widen seeing how they were swarmed with tears. “Because of my family, they never would of let us marry because of your status. Y/n I would have left all of that behind for you, without a second thought”

Shaking your head you reply, “I couldn’t have asked that of you Zemo”

“And that’s one of the reasons why you are so perfect. You always put me before you, now this time I am asking you to finally let yourself choose. If you want me to leave say and I will leave. But if you don’t say I will stay with you, and I won’t let you leave again”

“We’re not who we once were, Helmut” you mutter, finally letting yourself use his first name and with that, he already knew your choice. His hand goes up to cradle the side of your face gently, moving it nearer to him.

“Then let’s discover each other, all over again”

Your eyes fluttered shut as he pushed his lips on you, fitting perfectly against yours as if they were made for you. He poised there, hoping he wasn’t being too forward but his lips smirked as you started to move your lips on him, crashing them on top of his for action, which he kindly gave.

His tongue poked your bottom lip, begging for entrance. One which you allow as you wrap your fingers behind his neck, getting tangled in his hair.

You could hardly believe this is where you were, once again with Zemo, his lips upon yours, desire between your legs. In the last twenty years, you had often dreamt of reuniting with Zemo, experiencing this moment again but you never thought it would happen. But here you were.

His hands travelled down your back, swooping under your butt as you wrapped your leg around his waist. Swiftly he lifts you off the chair and walks you over to the bed, placing you down on it and crawling on top of you.

His lips trail down your cheek, across your jawline and down onto your neck, sucking on that delicate pulse spot. A moan escapes from your lips and he pulls back chuckling. “For so long now I’ve longed to hear you moan for me Princess”

You just groan, your hand pushing his face back into your neck making him laugh but he quickly goes back to making a hickey on it. His fingers trail down to your shirt, slowly lifting it and once again he pulls away to be able to lift the shirt off you.

He holds back for a moment to admire your beauty. His hands move behind your back and swiftly undoes the clasps on your bra, tugging it off. He groans seeing you for all your glory and buries his head in your boobs. ‘Oh how I have missed these’

While his mouth latches onto your breasts, smothering them in kisses as his hands go to undo the buttons on your trousers. He starts to tug them down, with no sense of being gentle but rather a primal urge taking over him. He manages to tug them off you and then his lips move down even further. He trails his tongue from your breasts down your belly, leaving a trail of saliva. As he reaches your underwear, his teeth latch onto it. With a slight groan from his lips, he then pulls them off, sliding them down your legs and flicking them off to the floor along with your other discarded clothes.

He sighs in contentment as he buries his face into the side of your thigh as his fingers trail your prosthetic leg. Leaning forward he places a kiss on it, then trails upwards, littering it in soft kisses. The only softness you’ll be experiencing tonight.

As you feel him get nearer your core you let out a shudder in anticipation, as you shudder you feel his lips suddenly press against your core. He instantly latches into your clit, his tongue dancing on it, twisting it in circular motions. Your hands instantly grasp his hair, holding him close to your core, not letting him go. Not that he ever want to. Sandwiched between your legs is where he belonged.

“If I remember correctly, you always liked this part”

You let out a shocked gasp as suddenly a finger presses against your entrance and then slips inside of you, with ease from how wet you have become. He slides the finger all the way into the end, letting a moan rip out of your throat.

“It seems I do remember correctly”

“Instead of commentating everything why don’t you put that mouth to good use” you groan, pushing his face back into your crotch. His tongue instantly went back to your clit as he started to thrust his finger in and out of you, making sure it brushes against your walls. As you start to let more little moans he thrusts another finger inside, opening slightly to stretch you out.

You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening as he worked his tongue on your clit and his fingers in and out of you at a rapid pace. Then his fingers hit just at that right spot and your walls fluttered around him. You hardly got enough time to choke out a warning before you were gushing all over his fingers. When your climax started to edge away he pulled his face back from your clit, removing his fingers and while holding your eye contact he stuck his tongue out, lapping up your juices on his fingers.

He moans slightly as he licks it up, his eyes fluttering half close, ‘Mine Gott, I forgot just how good you tasted’

“Well let’s see if you are as good with that dick as you were in the past” you tease, pulling his face towards your to encompass in another kiss. As your hands hold his face to yours his fingers feel up the side of your waist, ghosting over your skin creating goosebumps.

You could sense when his fingers started to trail to his trousers though and you pull away from his lips making him whine.

“Strip for me”

He tilts his head smirking as he looks up into your playful eyes. “As you wish my princess,” he says as he climbs off you, standing at the end of the bed. Slowly he tugs off his large coat off, laying it on the side of the bed. Next, he works on his turtleneck, slowly tugging it up to his chest, then over his head. Soon it joins the steady growing pile of discarded clothes. Next, he quickly tugged down his trousers and boxers, his patience starting to wear thin.

As he pulled them down exposing his dick you hummed in approval. “Now isn’t that a sight for sore eyes”

“And you were complaining at me for talking” Zemo murmurs, stepping forward to crawl back onto you but your hold your hand up to stop him. “Put the coat back on”

“I see in our time apart you’ve become more demanding,” he says as he picks up the coat and slides it back onto his naked body. As he finally gets to crawl back on top of you, you grasp the fur collar and pull him closer to your face.

You run your fingers through his hair, making it even messier than it was before. Parts of it fell onto his forehead. His hands move down to hold his dick by your entrance, rubbing it against your folds. For a moment he hesitates, moving his head to rest against your forehead in anticipation.

“You’re still as beautiful as when I last saw you”

With that, he pushes into you, rather quickly because of how desperate he was to feel you around him. As he bottoms out he groans, pushing his face into the crook of the neck as you grasp the back of his head gasping. He stays still for a minute, treasuring the feeling of your walls clasping onto him. Then slowly he pulls mostly out of you, till just his head hung in your, and then thrust back into you.

He started to pick up speed, hearing the increase of your moans against his ear. His grunts and moans start to intertwine with yours as you both chase your pleasure.

“Gott, you are so perfect my princess. You feel so good around me” he’d groan into your ear as his hips thrust repeatedly into your, the sounds echoing on the walls of the room. His fingers sneak down your belly to your core, rubbing against your clit. Instantly your back was arched and your fingers grasped onto the coat.

“God Helmut, I don’t remember you being this good” you moan and with your words he speeds up, pumping inside of you. His head kept brushing up inside that perfect spot inside and with his fingers twisting on your clit you could feel your climax steadily approaching.

“H-Helmut, I’m going to, soon I’m-” you tried to get out between moans but there was no need to as Zemo could feel how close you were for the way your walls clung around him tightly.

“Come for me Princess, let me feel you. I need to feel you again my love, after so long”

And his words were music to your ears as you feel the knot within you snap and your wetness gushing over his dick. Zemo bites down on your neck, trying to be gentle, as he feels your walls grasp you even tiger as he thrusts into you. Not long after he felt his own release coming and as you lay there panting he thrusts in time to his release until he squeezed out every last drop.

He hovers over you for a moment, panting, wanting to remain in your warmth for just a moment longer but eventually he pulls out and collapse beside you.

He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you into his side, burying his face in your hair.

“Thank you Helmut” you whisper

“No my princess, thank you for forgiving me for everything I’ve ever done to you. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, I don’t deserve your love but I desperately need it. I won’t lose you again my darling”

TAGS: @shrekboobies @arianalilyblack @multiyfandomgirl40 @lieutenantn @neoarchipelago @cable-kenobi @edencherries @faustlyaccused @julyvegan @prestigious-tea @hannahbal-the-fannibal @barneswidow @checkurwindow @babayaga67 @spookycereal-s @mylifeispainandiloveit

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#zemo #baron zemo #helmut zemo #i love zemo #zemo x you #zemo fluff #baron helmut zemo #sugar daddy zemo #zemo x reader #zemo x y/n #zemo smut #zemo imagine #daniel brühl

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vogueinnie · 3 years

Text

HEAVEN OR HELL ; part. 2 TEASER - PART 1 - PART 2 - (...)

━ WARNINGS ; demon!hyunjin, virgin fem!reader

if you feel uncomfortable with the mentions of religion, please don’t read this story cause there are a lot blasphem, mentions of Lucifer and Mammon (Lucifer’s son)

corruption kink, fear kink, humiliation (and not only in a sexual way), mention of killing a cat, pet name (angel), manipulation, mention of alcohol (wine), reader is ashamed of herself, sir kink, nipple play, clitoral masturbation, grinding, very slight choking, slight possessive kink, no penetrative sex

━ WORD COUNT ; 3.3k ━ NOTE ; part 2!!! the smut part is kinda... soft? but the naaaasty is coming!!! also sorry for that cliffhanger at the end zjfhdzfz. feedback are so welcomed!!

The sinister forest in which you walked every morning now was very different from the glittering glade you were used to. The trees were whopping and if you looked at them for too long you can see red eyes forming in the wood. Or was it your imagination ? No one never knows. No beautiful tulips, no cute birds tickling your ears with their cute whistles, no bunnies jumping here and there. Just dead flowers and a mortifying dead silence.

Everything was dead.

All the love and joy living in your heart were starting to fade away. You can’t even remember for how long you were stuck in this place you don’t belong. The time seemed to be unfairly long. The days were all the same, empty, but tormenting in a certain way. You even started to forget how it was, in Heaven.

But in your misfortune you were lucky. Mammon chooses you. He was one of the most powerful of this world, after all. You were constantly watched, mocked by the people living here for being an angel. But what was wrong in being good ? Hyunjin was walking you everywhere like a trophy, or a dog, exposing you to everyone with the leather leash he used on you the first time you both met. They all seemed both amazed and disgusted by you.

“Why did Mammon chooses her ? Is she that special ? She’s an angel, how can he spends his day with her ?” were most of the words you were able to hear when you were around the devilish creatures. And Hyunjin never answers one of those questions, but his legendary smirk wnever left his face. It was ever more painful for you to understand that you were nothing but a toy for him. But what did you expect ? To be fully accepted as a sweet person ? Bullshits.

The only time he left you alone was on mornings. That’s why you always ended up in that scary forest near the huge castle you were left. Well, alone was a big word.

Jeongin was following you everywhere. He was Hyunjin’s personal and favorite servant. A strangely gentle and obedient demon. He looked young and pure, his beautiful angular face was surrounded by his dark blue hair. And you found that there were bright shades of red waiting to sparkle in his eyes. He was tall, not as tall as Hyunjin, but tall enough to be impressive.

There was no in between in this world. Demons were either painful to watch or absolutely breathtaking.

You were walking in the dead grass with him next to you, breathing the fresh matinal air. A beautiful black cat presents himself in front of the both of you, rubbing against your legs and purring loudly enough for you to hear.

A smile finally draws on your feature and you kneel to pat his head and scratch his chin.

“Look, Jeongin ! He wants hugs, poor thing... You’re probably hungry... Jeongin nods, looking straight ahead. But it’s the first time I saw a black cat... Are they common here ? You turn your face to look at him with a smile but still, his mouth stay closed. Hm, yeah, I see... You whisper softly, a little discouraged by his constant silence with you, making you realize that you were really alone here.”

Still without a words, he resumes his walk towards the castle, silently asking you to follow him. And you did, with the cute animal on your step. You were playing with him, walking fast or slow to see if he was still behind you. A laugh escape your mouth seeing the fluffy cat struggling to follow your speed. Not that you were fast but he was a little bit confused.

You bump into someone not on purpose and immediately your blood went icy. Respectfully, and especially cause you were too scared to look at the demon in front of you, you bow your body so low it was almost painful for your back. But you better hurt yourself than being hurted by someone else. Especially in Hell.

“There, there, there... What do we have ? This voice... I knew you were stupid but not to the point of not looking where you are walking. His words were painful but you didn’t move an inch, not wanting to bother him even more. The cat behind you was meowing and if you could you would see the confusion on the man’s face. What’s this ? Jeongin, kill it.”

“No ! No, no ! N-no...? Your voice had suddenly risen to end up being very low. You lift up your chin to finally see Hyunjin in front of you. He was only dressed in a black silk bathrobe embroidered with golden pearls, his long hair was half-tied in a low ponytail and he was holding a glass of wine in his right hand. He... He doesn’t mean you any harm, Sir... He just wants a friend...? His laugh was cold and heartless and he was scanning your body up and down with his piercing eyes.”

Suddenly, you felt a cold sticky liquid running through your face and you just understood that he literally threw the wine in your face. Your lips were parted in shock and that’s the moment you could hear vicious laughs behind him. Of course, Lucifer’s son always need his public. He drops the glass on the ground, glass shattering into thousands of pieces near your feet.

Hyunjin grabs the back of your neck, bringing your face close to his. Close enough to let his tongue slowly lick your cheek wet with wine.

“Remember when we first met, angel... What did I say ? A lot of things, actually. But you didn’t answer and he grab a handful of your hair.”

“That you wanted me ! A-and... That I was a mess... That you hated dirty things, Sir... You answer quickly with a shaking voice. He lets go of your face abruptly with a wide smile, nodding his face.”

“Yeah that’s it ! And what did you just make ? He pointed your face nonchalantly, making you whisper A mess with a tiny voice. A fucking mess, I hate it, in the name of Lucifer... I hate it ! His pupils were all black, you couldn’t even see the white in it. And you knew you messed up.”

He was hysterical and the screams, laughs and encouragements from the lower classes encourages him to act even more crazier. He grabs your wrist merciless to the applause of the crowd and he leads the two of you in the part of the castle which belongs to him.

Faster than you would have liked, you were in his room. It was always cold, not welcoming and way too dark for your eyes in need of nothing but sunshine. Hyunjin stayed silent but the creepy smile on his face was enough to makes you shiver in fear.

It was crazy how easily he switched from being insane to quiet.

Once you were in his private bathroom he made you look at you through the big golden mirror in front of the black marble bathtub. And you could see the damage, the deep red liquid running down your face, some strands of your hair are wet and the front of your black lace dress is also ruined with wine. You feel your back burning from his stares, and it’s even more humiliating than your physical condition.

“I think my angel needs to take a bath, don’t you ? You nod slowly, playing nervously with your fingers. What are you waiting for ? Go ahead.”

You look up at him leaning against the door frame, panicked. He raises an eyebrow and you shake your head. No, impossible. You probably misunderstood. Or he misspoke. How can you get naked in front of him ?

“Need some help, maybe ?”

Still through the mirror you can see him approaching you to stand behind you. Your body was frozen, not that you were afraid, but you were mostly intimidated. Your aura may be a pink pale tone but his own was... Like a dark shade of the deepest blue. The ocean itself is bright compared to what emane from this demon.

He puts your hair on the right side of your neck to have a full access of the left side one. His breath against your shivering skin was hot, and it probably burns you in the best way. The warmth and the softness of his lips against your skin were painful and you couldn’t help biting your lips and squeezing your eyes.

The inner fight you waged against yourself scared you more. Do you really want to push him away ? Or can’t you wait to be naked for him ?

Slowly, his long fingers trail the curve of your body, from your shoulders, to your waist, your hips, but strangely... Never your intimate parts. And you swear, at that right moment, you needed that more than you could ever imagine. Your body was squirming against his and slowly he grabs your chin with his thumb and forefinger.

“Look at you, angel. You open your eyes to see your back totally glued to his chest, making you blush in an instant. Don’t be shy with me, I told you. I’m your owner, there’s no need to be shy. You couldn’t stop looking at him and when he pushes his thumb against your lips you opened it to take it in your mouth and to start sucking it. He chuckles, nibbling your ear, his hot breath awakening all your senses. So nasty, are you really a child of God ?”

His last sentence makes you shiver. He was right. Did you deserve to be considered pure when you wanted him so badly ?

Hyunjin slowly untie your dress and the unknown feeling of being naked in front of someone was as arousing as scaring. Only his sharp eyes was touching you. As usual, he was looking at every details of your body and you can tell how badly he restrains himself to not put his hands all over your frame.

Why was he even nice ? He was almost hysteric few minutes ago. But the answer was evident... He was a demon, after all. They don’t need an excuse to act like crazy.

You didn’t move, looking shamefully at your body for reacting to every ones of his caresses, looks and words.

He takes you out of your mind, grabbing your wrist to lead you in the bathtub, hot smoke escaping from it due to the water. You put your body in it and you look at him undressing. He was as naked at you. His body was slim, his thighs and abdomen were muscular, his body was sculpted by the the God himself.

How funny is it to think that when he’s the son of Lucifer himself.

It doesn't take long for him to join you, placing his body behind yours. You didn’t know if it was because of the water relaxing all of your nerves, or his strangely calm aura, but you felt good. Hyunjin grabs your shoulders to make your body leans against his, slipping his wet hands on your face to clean your features from the liquid that he himself threw at you.

A little sigh escape your mouth and you allow yourself to pretend that you’re not in Hell. That you’re in your own room with all your green indoor plants surrouding you. You even have the impression that your favorite sugary smell is all over you, and you can even feel Felix scratching you neck and chin cause he knows how much you like that.

Wait... But you’re not in your room. And there’s no Felix.

Hyunjin started to kisses your neck slowly, licking your skin with the tip of his tongue, making you moan unintentionally. You open your eyes, ashamed of how pathetic you melt in the hand of the one and only Demon who can controls you. He probably feels your body tense and he starts to draw some invisible circles against your tummy.

“It’s funny how I want to protect you and ruin you at the same time. You bite your lips, gulping slowly just imagining the two situations. Yeah, it’s funny. How I want to take care of you, kiss you everywhere, makes you feel good. His words are accompanied by gentle caresses, he brushes your boobs with his fingertips, making you shiver and squirm against him. Even if he was behind you you can feel his gaze on your naked body exposed to him. How I want to hurt you in the goodest way, makes you beg and cry. He pinches one of your already hard nipple with two of his fingers and again, you moan softly. Isn’t it supposed to hurt ? Then why does it feels good ?”

He chuckles when he hear your voice, rubbing now your two buds in his digits. You can’t control your body and the sensation you’re feeling and quickly you came to the conclusion that you want more. You want to feel more, you want that heatness in your body to be more intense, to explode.

The back of your head falls against the crook of his neck and his strong woody smell makes you loose your mind. Hyunjin turns his head to put his forehead against yours while his fingers travel all around you naked figure against him. You can feel him everywhere and nowhere, it's like he can touch your whole body at the same time.

“Don’t stop looking at me. He whispers in a low voice, his eyes fixed on yours.”

You nod slowly even tho it’s difficult for you to stay focused when one of his hands glides along your exposed pubis. His other hand is still firmly gripped to your boob, massaging it in both a soft and harsh way. It was his power. To be gentle and rough.

Instinctively you open your legs. More, more, more. That’s all you can think about right now. And it seems that he exactly understand what you want. More. His long fingers run through your womanhood, wet because of the water, but not only. You can feel how burning it is, how good it feels when he slides them against your two intimates lips. More. You try to keep your eyes open as much as possible to not break the intense contact you’re sharing. A little oh escape your lips when he circles his fingers around that tiny, little, swollen bud. More, you want more.

“You don’t have that in Heaven, uh ? You never felt that good, did you ? You shake your head, half closed eyelids due to everything you’re feeling. That’s the real Heaven, angel.”

His wide black dilated pupils were magneficient, you couldn’t even think of looking away. He continues to rubs your most sensitive area and the hot water just help everything to be more soother and slicker. He teases your nipple, kissing the tip of your nose with a smirk drawns on his beautiful lips and you start to buck your hips up to feel more of the frictions he was offering to you. Slowly, you grip his wrist to push his hands even more against your intimate area. He chuckles, again, at your eagerness and soft moans crash on his lips when he taps your pussy. It was tickling, weird, but oh so good at the same time.

Slowly he grabs your waist to turn your body around so that you are facing him. And it’s even more intimidating to see Hyunjin with his eyes totally lost in the luxurious world. Almost automatically you stick your body to him, surrounding his waist with your legs.

If only you know that doing that made your pussy crash against his, you can really feel it, hard and pretty long dick. Your cheeks were now probably a bright tint of red. And you can see that he wasn’t in a better state.

“S-sorry ! I didn’t meant to do that, Sir !”

“Don’t be sorry, angel. Do it again, can you ? You nod slowly, pressing your two hands on his shoulders to give you a little bit of support. You move your hips slowly against his body, his hard-on hitting your core everytime you moved. Yeah, just like that, keep going... How does it feel ?”

Your only answer was to nod again and bite your lips. It felt too good to be real. Your two bodies stick together were hot and you swear, the burning flames in Hell wasn’t as hot as you. One of Hyunjin’s hand was grabbing your waist to help you move and grind above him while the other one found their way to your exposing neck.

All of your body was covered with shivers and you didn’t know if the cause was his eyes on you, his hands gripping your throat without squeezing it, or your core sticking and rubbing on his rosy tip.

“You’re mine. You can hear his hoarse voice whispering in your ear as he still grab your throat in a possessive way while his hand on your waist tighten it firmly. You’re mine. I choose you not only cause I know you were obedient... His hips buck up into yours, making the both of you crash your crotch together in a moaning symphony. Because I knew you were going to love it a lot more than you should.”

You felt light-headed for a moment. Hyunjin’s words was arousing, making you feel like the dirtiest angel. And it was too much. Too much new sensations for your body. The knot in your stomach were growing to the point that it was consuming you so you speed your own pace, helped by his hands, his breath, his moans, even his praises “pretty, hot, good girl” were the only words you were focused on. You felt enveloped by your devastating orgasm, your face leans back and a silent moan escapes your parted lips. It was difficult for you to keep your eyes open, your bordy starts to shake against his and you scratch his shoulders to hold on to reality. It was insanely good to be on cloud nine, a soft smile draws on your lip as every muscles of your body relaxed and tensed at the same time.

You feel him chasing his own high, patting his veiny and leaking dick on your swollen and overstimulated bud. You wanted to escape his touch as much as you wanted him to keep doing that delicious feeling.

You let yourself totally go in his arms when the both of you come back down from your high. Hyunjin was as breathless as you and he rubs your back in slow caresses, kissing your temples with a little grin.

“I bet Felix never made you feel that way. You frowned your eyebrows, why was he talking about Felix now ? You lift your face to look up at him in a confused way. Oh, you probably didn’t know... You shake your head slowly. He was my servant. You both have the same disgusting sugary smell. ”

Your jaws dropped and you blink your eyes. Felix, the purest heart you have ever known was once... A demon ?

—————————————☠︎︎ —————————————

━ TAGLIST ; @sailorhyunjinz - @minholuvs - @that-anxious-bisexual - @ohmysparkle - @yuminsung - @minaamhh - @kittykatvenom - @bubblelixie - @imagineinnie - @ronnieissupermegafoxyawesomehot - @etherealeeknow - @linours - @starry-jinnie @p0t4t0don14ll - @straytannies - @binnie-m00n - @formidxble - @skzcvre - @titleisyettobemade - @bythesunnotbythemoon - @nada-disso - @characha - @lizsvcks - @pxnidxjks - @ninjaleeknow - @solistired - @keloiu - @staaaaaa - @journalskz - @bubbl3gunz - @tinyminari - @hyuneytoast - @s4ilor-m4rs (if you want to be added to the taglist feel free to send me an ask!)

#skz smut #stray kids smut #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin smut #heaven or hell ; the serie

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djadins · 3 years

Text

aurora glow | thrawn x f!reader — part one

An alien ship lands on Earth after electrical failure. You have been surviving alone, the planet being struck by an EMP-like solar flare years prior. What happens when you meet the inhabitants of this ship on your travels?

warnings: violence, explicit language, canon divergence

rating: T

word count: 2.8k

a/n: Thrawn probably is and will be OOC during this series. also, as the story progresses i’m definitely bound to get things wrong and probably accidentally add something that’s actually from star trek (so apologies!) loosely inspired by the Voyager episode ‘Gravity’ and a book I recently finished!

You saw the crash before you heard the explosion.

It had been a long time since something had lit up the sky that wasn’t the moon, sun or auroras. You weren’t very far away from the crash site, you could tell. Although, admittedly, you were still bad at measuring distances. It was on your way southbound anyways - as it was fall, and winter and the first snow would be fast approaching.

You arms tightened around the smooth handle of your walking stick, one of your favorite found items. You preferred to think of them in this manner, rather than “looting” or “stealing”. Could they even be considered that if their owner was no longer there to use them? You didn’t think so, at least.

It took twenty minutes before you were close enough to see the smoke rising out of the giant space... ship. You felt a shudder rip through your body. You know exactly what you saw but it was still a concept you had to wrap your brain around. Believing for nearly your whole life that out there, somewhere, other life had to exist... and actually seeing it with your own eyes were two different things.

You instinctually began walking lower to the ground, closer to the shrubbery and trees, checking your hip for the well hidden, small 9mm you kept on you at all times. You knew you had few bullets left and would not use it unless you really needed to. There was a knife in the inside of your boot that you would try to use instead but only if the situation called for it.

You could make out many white, helmeted figures from here. At least, you assumed that was armor and not their actual bodies. There was also one, deep, calm voice alongside a fair amount of shouting that you couldn’t quite see. You walked in a semi circle, closer to the voices. There was a lot of brush, thankfully, that you could hide yourself in.

When you were close enough to see the event that was unfolding, you instinctively held your breath. There was the spaceship, in all her glory, smoking and partially buried in the ground. You were surprised there wasn’t more outward and obvious damage, but you weren’t sure of the full extent of the electrical failure or how far from the planet it had reach. Many of those white figures were scattered around, holding some sort of weapon in the direction of the action.

The shouting figures, which were now only a few feet from you, were holding weapons you recognized. Even with their backs fully or partially turned from you, you could tell that the three of them were human. Two men, who had their weapons pointed towards select armored white aliens, and one woman. She had a short-barreled shotgun that was pointed at the tallest of the aliens.

His crimson eyes caught your attention first and you released your breath at the sight of them. They were dark, reminding you of the Red Delicious apples you had stored in your pack. His vibrant blue skin contrasted harshly against his eyes and his pitch colored hair and uniform. His hair was short and slicked back but a few strands were hanging over his face. He seemed humanoid apart from his angular face, but even with that, if he wasn’t blue he might actually pass for human.

You realized the woman wasn’t shouting at him, but the uniformed men around him. Their weapons were pointed at the three humans but they were taking no action.

“We want all the food and supplies out of that ship, now!” she shouted. “If we don’t get it in five minutes, I’ll take big blue here down!”

You were close enough to see the jaw in the tall blue alien’s mouth tighten. He pinched his lips together tightly before responding in a cool, calm voice. “As I have already stated, my men will not respond to your demands. Neither will I, for that matter.”

The woman began shouting again. You bit your lip and wondered if you had gone mad for what you were considering doing. You didn’t even give yourself time to think if this was the smart move before you picked up the palm-sized rock that was on the ground beside you. There was a large, wooden warehouse on your right where one of the human men had been standing beside, weapon ready. You were about 30 feet away from it from your current position.

You wound your arm back and threw that rock with everything you had. It smashed through a wood panel, making a sharp cracking noise. All heads momentarily turned, except for the blue alien, who’s line of sight was now firmly focused in your direction. You had already taken off from the bushes, walking stick in hand, when you realized he was looking directly at you.

While everyone else’s attention was still focused on the dilapidated warehouse, you spun your walking stick behind your back and then quickly whipped it back in front of you, hitting the woman with the shotgun square in the head. Your walking stick shattered where it connected with her. She crashed into the ground with a bloodcurdling scream and you grabbed the shotgun she dropped. All eyes were now on you as you pointed it at her.

“Drop your weapons, you two,” you yelled, partially out of breath, eyes still focused on the woman on the ground. You poked her with the barrel of the gun. “Tell them,” you warned her.

She nodded her head and looked around at the two men. You heard the familiar crunch of grass as the two weapons were dropped, but your eyes were still focused on her. Then you heard the shrieks of the men and a sickening crunching sound that followed. Two of the white armored men now approached either side of you, weapons drawn. The blue alien was still silent, but he put his hand up towards his men. They lowered their weapons instantly.

He motioned for you to back up and you did just that. The two armored men flung their weapons behind their backs and went towards the woman on the ground. They restrained her before you finally drew your attention fully to the tall man in front of you. He had stepped closed to you now that you were hanging onto the shotgun with one loose hand, the barrel almost brushing against the grass.

He held a large, cerulean hand out to you. His eyes had seemed to lighten. “If I may,” he started, “it will take my men off edge.”

You nodded and passed the weapon over to him. He held it in both hands, studying it for a moment, before handing it to one of his men.

“Why did you betray your people?”

You looked from his hands back up to his eyes, your voice suddenly gone.

You bit your lip and looked around you, fully realizing the situation you had now put yourself in.

A handful of the armored men had restrained the three humans but the rest were looking at you and the alien. They still had their weapons drawn, and although they weren’t pointed in your direction, you knew that they easily could be.

“Th.. they weren’t my people,” you stammered, looking back into his vibrant eyes.

He tilted his head slightly. “Hmm.” He took his time, looking you up and down before doing the same to them. “They resemble you. Are you of a different race?”

“N.. no. I, uh,” you struggled on how to explain. You bit your lip again. “We are all humans, from this planet, yes. But I do not know them personally.”

Another hmm escaped his lips as you wondered how on this good earth you could even understand what he was saying to you. “I am still perplexed,” he admitted. “What would compel you to help me?”

You looked down at your feet after he asked you this. You honestly weren’t sure what surged through you in what had only happened moments earlier. You looked back up at him, directly in his eyes. “I’m not sure,” you answered honestly. “I have never seen an alien before and I didn’t want you to think we were all bad.”

His eyebrows scrunched together at your response, giving you what you could only describe as a quizzical look. It was as if he was trying to figure you out entirely by solely examining you. He took a step towards you.

“You have never met another who wasn’t from your own planet?”

You shook you head. “Before the blackout, it was a widely debated topic whether or not there was extraterrestrial life somewhere in space.”

He smiled at your response. “Well, I’m happy to inform you, there are many different life forms, spread across millions of light years.”

He watched your eyes light up at this statement. You couldn’t help but look up at the sky above you. You felt infinitesimally small in that moment.

“I am Thrawn, Captain of the Thunder Wasp.”

You looked back at him and gave your name.

“I am unsure of how your people greet one another, however it is a pleasure, nonetheless.”

You held you hand out towards him without thinking at his response. Some of his men tightened their grip on their weapons at your action and you flinched. He looked towards them and shook his head. He slowly mimicked your action, bringing his hand out but not quite touching you.

You grasped his hand, slow enough that he could pull back if he was uncomfortable. You looked in his eyes and smiled, slowly shaking his hand up and down. His hand was large, enveloping yours easily. He was incredibly warm to the touch. “Nice to meet you, Captain.”

He caught on to your action, bringing his hand up and down in a synchronous motion with you. When you both released your light grip, he smiled back at you. “Please, Thrawn is sufficient. I am not your commanding officer, but a visitor to your planet.”

After this interaction, Thrawn’s men separated, leaving the two of you to yourselves. There were still four guards with the other humans and only then did you bring your attention to them.

“Dirty bitch,” the woman spat at you and as soon as she did, one of the guards knocked her in the back of the head. A shudder ripped through your body after witnessing this.

Thrawn called out your name and you focused your attention back to him. “If I could borrow you a moment, I have some questions I would like to ask.”

You shook your head in affirmation. He turned on his heel, hands firmly clasped behind his back as he walked towards his ship. You left your walking stick on the ground as you followed behind him.

The ship was tilted sideways slightly, it’s nose buried in the ground while it’s backside was raised a little above. You approached the side of the ship, where two of his soldiers were standing in position beside a door.

At the Captain’s approach, they grasped what appeared to be suction cups on each individual door. The pulled and the door split open in the middle and Thrawn walked towards it, taking a large step up into the ship easily with his elongated legs. Upon realizing you would struggle a lot more to get in than he would, he bent down and reached a hand out towards you.

You didn’t hesitate as you put your hand into his and one foot on the floor of the ship. It was angled just above your waist and you could feel the stretch burn the back of your thigh. The sensation didn’t last long as Thrawn hoisted you into the ship, seemingly using little energy on his part. He dropped your hand as soon as you were steady and the doors were manually shut behind you.

The corridors were lit with dim red lights along the wall. Shadows bounced as you and Thrawn navigated through the ship. His skin looked almost iridescent in here.

You followed him through many different corridors until he paused in front of a door. He pulled a card out from somewhere in his uniform that he swiped against the panel next to the door and it slide open automatically. Same at the doors outside, just without someone manually pulling it apart.

You looked around as you followed behind him. You were in a large room that resembled an office and had another closed door leading to somewhere else along the wall. There were many different pieces of what you would describe as art scattered through the room along with a giant desk. It had two large, comfortable looking chairs settled on either side.

Thrawn pulled out the chair that had its back facing the door you had just entered, clearly made for whoever was visiting the owner of this desk, which you could only assume was the man in front of you himself. Once you had settled in the chair, which threatened to swallow you whole, Thrawn settled into the seat across from you.

He started by asking you what exactly you had meant by the ‘blackout’ you had mentioned earlier. You did your best to explain what little you knew of it, telling him that a few years prior the sun had sent out a solar flare strong enough to act as an EMP, effectively wiping out all electronics, everywhere, and sending humans back to the stone age. Thrawn listened to you intently, without interruptions as you did your best to work through what information you had gathered through the years. You ended your long explanation by telling him that approximately once every 30 days, another solar flare would hit the Earth for roughly 12 hours and restore most of the electronics during that time. You could tell it was approaching by the aurora that would brighten the sky the night before.

You both sat silently as Thrawn chewed through the information you had just given him. Finally, he simply said, “That explains some things.”

You waited patiently for his next question while he formulated it. You had trouble keeping your eyes off of him, but didn’t want to come off as rude, so you looked around the room every once in a while.

Thrawn called out your name softly while you were staring at a painting situated over his left shoulder. If it wasn’t eerily silent on the ship, you might not have heard it. You looked over at him. He was examining you as if you were that painting hung on the wall. Finally, after a minute that seemed like an hour, he asked what your plans were.

“Well, winter is fast approaching. I aim to keep heading south where it will be warm during the season.” You looked down at your feet. “I have found it best to keep migrating through the years. Staying in one place invites danger,” you practically whispered.

“Are you all alone?”

You held back the emotional outburst that threatened to rip through you at that question. You shook your head in confirmation.

“How long?”

You swallowed hard. “7, maybe 8 seasons.”

You could feel Thrawn’s pity even if you weren’t looking at him, even though if you had looked at him you would have only outwardly seen stoicism.

“When do you expect the next flare to hit?” he asked you after a few silent moments.

You looked up at him for the first time in a while. His red eyes were soft, the color nearly washed out compared to the first time you saw him. He had folded his hands on top of his desk and was hunched over — or what a military man like him probably considered hunched over. His back was still pretty stick straight.

You pondered his question. “If I had to guess, 10... maybe 12 days. I don’t keep track very well anymore and sometimes it doesn’t follow an exact pattern. But it always happens, eventually.”

Thrawn nodded. “Would you be willing to stay with us while we repair the ship?”

Your mouth fell open. Sensing your confusion he added, “You are the only one who knows this planet, we could use your expertise.”

You bit your lip so hard you tasted metal.

Thrawn continued, voice near a whisper. “I will take you off this dying planet in return.”

His transition from ‘us’ to ‘I’ didn’t go unnoticed by you. You still sat there, silently processing his question.

You took a sharp breath in and let it out shakily. Tears prickled at your eyes.

How could you leave the only home you had ever known, if Thrawn and his men could even get their ship working again in the first place?

How could you survive out there, in space? A place you didn’t know... none of your people really knew, where you didn’t belong.

Where would you go? What would you do?

But you had no one and nothing left here.

You gave him your answer and you could have swore you saw the corners of his mouth twitch upwards in response.

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moonculus · 3 years

Text

andromeda and circinus - dream x reader

angst

warnings: weapons, slight nsfw (kissing), manipulation, mentions of death

pronouns used: they/them

part I: here

.+*cause if i could see your face once more, i’d die a happy man, i’m sure*+.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

II.

you snuck through the portal after tommy, making your way inconspicuously through the prison. you could tell sam thought something was up; he was continuously looking around himself. every time you would hear from tommy slurp down another potion, you prayed sam wouldn’t hear.

as you neared the main holding cell, your palms began to sweat. was this really what you wanted to do? when you saw those emerald eyes, you would you even be able to go through with it?

“clay, please. these are your friends! they’re just children,” you begged.

you two had been at this all evening. dream wouldn’t tell you his plan, all you knew was it was going to reign absolute destruction on the smp.

“no one is innocent. you should know that better than anyone,” he sneered.

you were taken aback by his statement. what did he mean by that? what was he hiding from you?

“i’m not the first person to say this, and i certainly won’t be the last. you’ve changed, clay. you’re not the sweet boy i’ve always known. he would never treat his friends this way. he would never treat me this way-“

“it’s dream! my name is dream. who are you to tell me i’ve changed? you know nothing about me,” he shouted.

your stoic expression faltered for a second, but you quickly regained your composure.

“if that’s how you want to play, dream, then so be it. but, mark my words. when all else fails, i won’t be there to pick up the pieces for you. i will do everything in my power to make sure you never cause harm to my friends again.”

“alright, ghostbur. move with the platform.”

you hoped tommy was following you as you stepped behind the ghost, heeding sam’s instructions.

the infamous white mask came into view. dream’s arms were crossed against his chest, leaning on the barrier with intrigue. you could’ve sworn he knew you were there- you played it off as a figment of your imagination. your adrenaline clouding your senses.

you were so close, mere feet away from the end of your mission. this was it. this was your final destination. you were meant to kill your best friend. alas, not all wishes are able to be granted.

“STOP! who’s there!?”

you slowly turned to your side, catching a glimpse of tommy’s axe. your heart dropped. you still had a good five minutes left with your invisibility, you could kill him yourself given the chance.

ghostbur was clearly panicking as tommy stepped back on the platform. it all happened too fast, dream had his arm to ghostbur, threatening his life if he wasn’t let free. your weapon was at the ready, but you couldn’t draw it without drawing attention to your presence. and then, the lava curtain began to fall.

your heart stopped as you lunged forward, sword unsheathed. you were seconds too late.

WilburSoot was slain by Dream.

tommy’s cries were drowned out as the sizzling of the lava curtain stopped moving. you slowly turned around to see the masked man drumming his fingers against his arm.

“who’s there?”

you stayed silent. your final invisibility potion was wearing thin. you could start to see the very faint outline of your fingers.

“i saw your blade. i hope you haven’t come to try and kill me. everyone has been unsuccessful. you won’t make history today.”

the last bits of your invisibility potion wore off. you stepped forwards into the cell, your sword held tightly in your dominate hand.

“it's been a long time, dream.”

you could see his arms tense a bit, but almost immediately it was replaced by his usual powerful stance.

“what, after all this time, no clay?”

“only your friends call you clay, no?”

“ouch. you know, you haven’t visited me once since i’ve been here. that hurts, y/n. truly.”

“take off the mask and maybe i’ll believe it.”

“ever so cunning,” he stretched, leaning against the wall.

“ever so maniacal.”

dream scoffed and pushed himself off the wall. he took three long strides to you, your faces near enough to share breaths. if there wasn’t a lifeless mask acting as a barrier between you two. you refused to show him any fear as he looked over you.

“i’ve missed you,” he began.

“don’t. don’t say that.”

“why not?”

“because you don’t mean it, dream.”

he reached a hand behind his head, unclasping the white mask and letting it fall to the floor. those terribly familiar jade eyes searched your face. his dirty blonde hair was tousled, his boyish features gone- replaced by angular bones. and those faint freckles, your kryptonite.

“wait, wait! wait for me.”

“oh, hurry up, you slow poke,” you shouted behind you.

“not everyone had the training you had!”

“no excuses!”

you flopped onto the grassy hill, the clear night sky painting your features lighter. the boy laid beside you, staring upwards. you let your gaze wander to the side, where he was already studying your face.

“you know, your freckles look like a constellation.”

“oh, really?” he smiled. “so, you could say i’m your universe, huh?”

you rolled your eyes, scoffing. “i said a constellation. not the entire solar system, genius-”

dream caught your final words with his lips on yours, his hand gently placed on your jaw. you barely moved, taken aback by the sudden demonstration of affection. he pulled away, a slight smile on his lips which immediately dropped when he saw your confusion.

he abruptly sat up, as did you. “jeez, i’m so sorry. i-i didn’t mean to- i just got carried away and-”

he was the one to be caught off guard when you slammed your lips against his with gusto, the two of you lying back. you hovered over him, teeth clacking as the both of you smiled into the kiss. you pulled away from your friend. a small pout sat on his lips as he gripped your hips.

“you can be my milky way, if i can be your andromeda.”

“god, no. yours sounds so much cooler!”

“fine. you can be my circinus.”

“circinus and andromeda.”

“andromeda and circinus.”

“i’ve missed you, andromeda,” he repeated.

“dream...”

“i know why you’ve come here. if your face is the last i’ll see, i’ll die a happy man.”

“no, no. you’ve caused my friends so much pain- you’ve caused me so much pain!” you shouted, backing away from him. you thought you saw true pain in his eyes, but you couldn’t decipher his lies anymore.

“you’ve lied to me. you don’t understand how many lives you’ve ruined, dream.”

“i do, and i’m so sorry about what i’ve done to you.”

“stop lying!”

“i would never lie to you. not anymore.”

you took a second to look at him and breathe. this wasn’t him. this was a shell of the man you once knew.

“what happened to you, clay?” your voice broke as tears began to run down your face.

his pain filled expression was replaced with one of minor rage as his chest rose and fell fast.

“you don’t get to feel pity for me. you did this! you did this to me.”

“clay, listen to yourself! you broke me. you only care about power. where is the boy who kissed me on that hill? where is the one who i grew up alongside? where is the boy who taught me how to love?”

“dead! he’s dead. and you need to leave.”

“look around, dream. there’s no where for me to go.”

dream launched forwards, his hand gripping your weapon and tugging it from its sheath. you fought him, but he had the upper hand. he drew your own weapon on you, forcing you to the ground as he placed your blade under your chin. his eyes held almost no emotion, but you swore you could see them watering.

“one of us isn’t leaving this cell alive, y/n.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#dsmp #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #mcyt x y/n #c!tommy #dsmp x reader #dream x you #dream x y/n #c!ghostbur #dsmp x you #dsmp x y/n #dreamwastaken x you #dream x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #dsmp x gn!reader #dream x gn!reader #c!dream #c!sam

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tra-sh · 3 years

Text

Love’s Labors pt 5

Part five to my Ivar Ragnarson x reader series! Part six here!

This was it. You were going to die here, you just knew it. You were sitting in a tent after being dragged to some strange camp on the shore. The blonde man who brought you here was sitting guard just outside, preventing you from making a run for it. Your blood pounded in your ears as the sounds of war and the scent of flesh wafted through the tent opening. How would you make it through this? Would you make it through this? Thinking about the possibility of death made you more anxious than you would like to admit.

You hear footsteps just outside and turn to see a figure approaching your tent. The blonde stands up from his spot and greets the figure in a language you do not know. He gestures to the tent, and you see the figure's head tilt a bit. Were they talking about you?

The figure heads toward the tent opening, followed by the blonde man. You feel your chest grow tight and you turn away just before they step inside. Your stomach churns and you feel like you're going to be sick.

"You are King Alfred's wife?" A booming voice breaks the silence of the tent, sending a shiver down your spine. You make no move to answer, and you hear a scoff. "Answer me, Saxon."

You feel a rush of adrenaline and turn to glare over your shoulder at the man behind you. Standing beside the blonde is a man wearing a dark burlap cloak, the hood hiding his eyes and most of his face. Was this their leader? Were they mercenaries?

"I am no one of importance. I'm afraid your little companion attacked the wrong carriage," you lie smoothly.

The hooded man tilts his head to the side, as though your answer amused him. "Is that so? Who am I speaking to then?" Though his accent is thick, he speaks your language flawlessly.

"I am Queen Judith's chambermaid. I was sent away from the castle to draw your attention away from the princess," you reply. The man in the cloak seems to process this information, and for a split second, you think he believes you. But much to your dismay he replies, "Very well. I will keep you around for some light entertainment while I take Northumbria."

You spin around to face him fully, your face betraying your emotions. "You mean to keep me as a whore?" You snarl, earning what sounded like a laugh from the hidden man.

"You are not a whore, Saxon."

"A prisoner of war then. How civil," you growl.

"Do not try your bravery with me. I am not well known for being merciful," the man says with a sneer.

You hold your chin up high as if daring him to meet your gaze. You steel your nerves as your eyes dart between the two men. "Why would you keep me here, then?"

"Should I have a reason?"

"You have uprooted me from my life and quite possibly killed my family in doing so, Heathen. I think the least you could do is tell me what you plan to do with me," you bite back, momentarily forgetting your ruse.

The man before you seems to mull over your request, his head turned slightly to exchange looks with the man beside him. The blonde seems to understand and turns away to leave the two of you alone in the tent. Once he is outside, the man in the cloak turns back to you. "I have brought you here for my own selfish gain," he says with a sickening grin. Your stomach lurches as your jaw falls open. "What could you possibly want me for?"

"A wife."

You're frozen in place, your eyes trained on the man standing before you. Had you heard him right? Does he mean to make you his wife?

"You are not serious," you say cautiously, saying each word slowly as though trying to convince the both of you. The man does not move but instead repeats himself. "I want to make you my wife."

You don't answer, and he continues. "In our lives, the Gods punish us. They mark us with pain and misery and suffering beyond belief. But, they do this to test who is worthy. And I have been. I have given my gods more than I have to give, I have provided them with wars to win, warriors to claim, sacrifices to have." At this point in his speech, you feel a sense of dread wash over you. But he continued on, " The Gods sent you to me long ago, as a reward for my endurance. They made you for me."

You can only stand and gape at the man before you as he finishes his delusional speech. "You... You think the Gods gave me to you?" You ask, your voice hoarse. "Why would they give me to you? What kind of cruel joke would that be? Giving me to a man who means to kidnap me and steal me from the only man I've ever loved!"

The man steps forward angrily and his teeth grit together in a nasty snarl. "Alfred is nothing but a coward! He turned tail and ran once he saw our boats in your waters," He growls. You ball your fists and curl your lip in disgust. "Alfred would never do that. He may not be a warrior, but he will make a good King." The man scoffs and shakes his head in mock pity. "How noble. Truly, a fitting image for a maiden's first love."

"Alfred is not my first love," you hiss. "But he is a dear friend. And I will not hear you mock him."

"And who would your first love be, then? Perhaps some other whelp Saxon prince who can barely lift a sword?"

You glare at the man before you and take a step forward. "The man I love is much stronger than you could ever dream of being. He is cunning and strong and could lay waste to your army with one arm tied to his back."

The hooded man seems to almost laugh at your boast. "Is that so? He sounds like the most interesting Saxon yet."

You cross your arms and look away from the man, growing annoyed at his comments. "He is not a Saxon. He is a Viking; a prince."

"A King," the man corrects.

Your head snaps over to look at the man in confusion. "Excuse me?" The cloaked man takes a hesitant step forward, and you hear something thump against the ground. "He is a King now."

Your eyes trail down and you gasp when you see what looks like a wooden crutch peeking out from the bottom of the cloak. You look up at the man, your eyes trained on his face. "You are..." you trail off, unable to find the words.

The man shakes off the hood, revealing dark braided hair and weathered blue eyes that had no doubt seen many battles. Though his cloak hid most of him from your view you could see the thick, corded muscle of his neck and arms. The cloak shifts slightly and reveals wooden braces on both legs that held him upright. Though he was older, and his features more angular, there was no denying it.

"Ivar?"

A slow smile drifts languidly across his lips as the recognition dawns on you. "Took you long enough, Saxon."

You launch yourself forward and topple the poor man to the ground rather unceremoniously. You straddle his legs, peppering light kisses all over his face and anywhere you saw exposed skin. Ivar laughs breathlessly and reaches for your hips to steady the both of you into an upright position.

You sit in Ivar's lap and bring his hands to your lips and kiss his palms affectionately. "You're horrible, you know. Letting me believe I had been kidnapped," you begin.

Ivar hums, clearly not remorseful in the slightest. "I had to make it convincing. Let the King of Wessex believe his princess was taken by the Northmen."

"And not contacting me for years? Was that part of your plan too?"

Ivar seems to consider this for a minute as his hand absentmindedly rubs small circles on your thigh. "I did not want them to suspect me. Receiving letters from the King of Kattegat would not be subtle," he says with a shrug. You sigh and lean into his larger frame, your body rejoicing in the familiar warmth. "I suppose you are forgiven."

For a moment there is a comfortable silence that falls over the two of you as you bask in the other's presence. But you find yourself itching to ask him about something he'd said earlier. "Did you mean what you said before, Ivar?" He looks down at you with a raised brow. "What?"

You sit up a bit so the two of you were at eye level. "When you said your Gods made me for you."

You feel his hand pause it’s ministrations as he stares at you. His face holds an unreadable expression, and for a moment you're afraid you've hit a nerve of some sort. But it isn't long before Ivar responds, "It is what I believe." You sit in his lap and stare at him with such innocent curiosity that Ivar can't help the chuckle that escapes him. "The Gods have taken many things from me, princess. They have given me a difficult path to follow. But I know that there is victory at the end of my road, and it is a path to Valhalla. And you are on it as well."

Your heart flutters at this and you feel your face grow warm. "You mean it?" Your voice is small, unsure.

Ivar nods and lifts your hand to his lips, kissing your fingers gently. "You are mine, princess. Whether you agree or not, I will have you." It is not a proposal but instead a statement. He will not take no for an answer, and you would be lying if you said this didn't stir something in your chest. "Oh, Ivar," you coo softly. You lean forward to press feather-light kisses on his forehead and nose. "I have always been yours."

Ivar seems satisfied with your response and makes a motion to stand. You push yourself up from your knees and offer a hand to the prince, which he takes begrudgingly. You can tell it hurts his pride to accept your help but he does it nonetheless. He grabs his crutch and jerks his head towards the opening of the tent, gesturing for you to follow.

"Come. You will meet my brothers," Ivar says as he leads you out into the night.

@youbloodymadgenius @red-roses-are-gonna-shine @angelofmysmalldeath

@krissydclayton93

#ivar x reader #ivar imagine #ivar from vikings #ivar the boneless #ivar #vikings ivar #ivar ragnarsson #ivar fanfic #vikings fanfiction #vikings fanfic #2013 vikings #vikings tv show #ivar fandom

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deancaspinefest · 4 years

Photo

a lesson in blue (it's in his eyes)

Mature | ~41k | Posting on May 5 Author: saltyravenclaw | Artist: jununy

Dean expected this school year to be just like every other; a copy-and-paste one-two-three of the past six he'd spent teaching History to high schoolers. The same boring, repetitive staff meetings, the same classroom and classes, watching new faces come and old ones go. Weekends spent grading assignments or movie-marathoning with Charlie, happily debating Star Wars or Game of Thrones (and once, She-Ra. It was pride month; they were drunk.)

What he was NOT expecting, however, was the new science teacher to be so....intriguing.

His name was Castiel Novak, he taught earth and environmental science, and he was possibly one of the best--and strangest--people Dean's ever met.

For one thing, he wore sweater vests, slacks, and a damn trench coat, even in summer. He's a total dork for plants and animals, told really bad jokes, and had a rather extensive coffee mug collection.

Oh, and another thing: he's rather--scratch that, really--attractive.

And he was right across the hall from Dean. Or, the one where Dean falls for the teacher across the hall, and Castiel owns a snake named Marcy.

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

Standing in the doorway was, presumably, Castiel Novak.

Messy, black hair stood in every direction, curling behind his ears and sweeping in every which way. Strong, angular features with a hint of scruff around the edges of his jawline contrasted with his eyes; blue, based on the overhead lights, sloping downwards at the edges, giving him a permanently sad, somber expression.

He was young, probably Dean’s age or just slightly older, but his sweater vest and slacks ensemble made him look ten years greater than what he probably was. He stood awkwardly in the doorway, one hand in his pocket and the other still resting lightly on the door.

“Uhm—You’re Dean, correct?” he asked in a deep, hesitant rumble.

Well, that was unexpected.

“I—uh—yeah!” Dean said, standing hastily from his desk and hurrying around, managing to hit both his knee and hip on the corner. “Hi—ow--yeah, I’m, I’m Dean. Winchester.” He added quickly, holding out his hand and smiling.

The man—Castiel—smiled back and shook his hand, his grip firm.

“So you’re teaching Earth Science,” Dean said, putting his hands in his pockets and leaning against one of the chairs.

Castiel nodded, looking around Dean’s room. “I’m taking Ms. Mildred’s old position, across the hall.”

Dean grinned. “She told me she was done after this year. Ready to retire.”

To be honest, her retirement probably had something to do with Jo finding a used condom in the locker rooms. Or the spitball contest after third lunch in the boy’s bathroom. Or nearly fracturing her hip at the annual Faculty DodgeBall Tournament on the faculty's last required school day (why Mildred would even want to participate, Dean didn't know. School spirit?)

Dean cast around for something to talk about. “Did you meet Mildred, before she moved out?”

Castiel nodded. “Yes, she made me a tin of cookies and spent a lengthy amount of time telling stories from working here.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, she did the same thing to me when I first started here. Sat me right down and rattled off 'round fifty different things about teachin'."

Castiel smiled. "She gave me a binder, along with the dessert tin."

"Yeah, most of the stuff in there's outdated." Dean sighed, remembering the two-inch binder he'd been gifted. He still had it; there were some good recipes slipped between some of the pages.

"That explains the section about typewriters," Castiel mumbled.

[continue reading on May 5]

#destiel #deancas #destiel fic #deancas fic #spn fic #modern AU #teacher au #saltyravnclaw #jununy #DCPF 2021 #DCPF Promos

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honeymoonjin · 5 years

Text

𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: jimin x reader || 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 25k || 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎𝚜: fluff, angst, smut

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: you weren’t meant to have a roommate in your cabin deep in the amazon rainforest, but you find you can’t say no to the shy young college graduate that’s come to study the native butterflies.

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: cursing, death of a minor character (butterfly), explicit sexual content, oral (m receiving), praise, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, subby jimin, extremely soft smut

--------

It’s a day off.

That doesn’t mean you sleep in, though. You don’t know of a single person on the reserve that has been able to stay unconscious past sunrise without medical intervention. The chirps and calls of birds, buzzing of insects and drone of cicadas begins the moment the sun rises, sometimes even earlier, and while the cover of towering canopies filters out most of the light in the dense rainforest, the lodge camp is on an open meadow, and so you can’t avoid the heat that quickly sets in.

You’re happy to be up early, though, as it’s become a comfortable habit to make your way through your morning routine at your own pace, finally settling on your front porch with a cup of tea, bare toes poking out the cover of shadow from the lodge and into the bright pool of sunlight that warms the grass below.

Living in the middle of the Amazon rainforest wasn’t exactly something you had really planned ahead for as a young woman, but after falling in love with the place on a university trip, and then keeping an ear open for job opportunities, you had managed to land a job as a tour guide, being able to speak languages that their other employees couldn’t.

It’s a busy time of year at the Cuyabeno Lodge. Both local Ecuadorians and international tourists tended to avoid the rainier months, and after a particularly long wet season, it seemed all the bookings had been bottle-necked into one month now that the days were simply humid. Barely six in the morning, guests already roamed over the camp, some socialising over breakfast, others packing for day hikes in clumps spearheaded by your colleagues.

You take a deep draw from your mug, still steaming lightly, and feel the warm liquid warm your throat and chest, waking you up fully and putting you in a good mood. Most days, you’d crane your head down and watch the hard-working streams of leafcutter ants trail through blades of grass just taller than them, like small currents winding away towards the nearest meal. Their quiet determination and coordination was strangely fascinating to you, even after your several months living in their tropical habitat, but they aren’t what catch your attention today.

Across the wide expanse of open campground, two figures argue back and forth, one you recognise as your boss, the other a stranger lugging around three bulky suitcases and flapping a rolled-up map in confusion or desperation. You hum with curiosity, squinting at the figures as you finish off the dregs of your tea. They’re really too far for you to make out detail. All you can see of this frazzled man is the loose white tee and mussed-up blonde hair as he converses emphatically with the native Ecuadorian man that runs the lodge.

So distracted by the strange man, you don’t notice your boss turning and pointing to you until their figures start to grow in your vision as they approach. Your eyes widen and reflexively you down the last of your drink, placing the empty mug beside you on the wooden porch and staring at them hurrying over, both helping to lug over the excess baggage.

You realise the problem once they’re close enough to be in earshot. While the passionate Spanish and melodic Korean have similar phonetic sounds, it’s clear the two men are speaking completely different languages. You even hear your boss try some English - “we can talk to her, just a moment” - but it’s drowned out over the other man’s frantic explanations.

“Y/n, Y/n,” your boss greets with a tone of desperation colouring his local Spanish, “can you please help me speak to this man? We’ve had a booking error.”

Your eyes lift in surprise and you turn back to the stranger. It’s humid already, your skin warm even under the shade, but the sight of him sends a shiver down your spine. His hair isn’t totally blonde, slightly honeyed like it’s been dyed, and the warm sun sets it alight, framing the radiant skin of his face, which is angular on his jaw and nose yet soft on his cheeks and mouth, a full pout delicately pink. He’s beautiful.

You realise you’ve been staring directly at him a little too long as his cheeks colour the same shade as his lips, delicately coughing to break you from the trancelike state you found yourself in. You apologise hastily in your native language before switching to Korean when his eyebrow twitches in confusion. “I’m sorry,” you repeat in Korean, “I didn’t mean to be rude. My name’s Y/n.”

He smiles shyly, resting a hand over his forehead to block out any stray rays of light getting in his eyes. Doing this casts his face into shadow, and you can see now the warm, puppy-like brown of his irises, only half-visible as he scrunches up his cheeks. “Nice to meet you,” he greets, and you marvel at the melodic quality of his voice now that he speaks alone. It’s all soft tones, lilting even as his cheeks redden. “I’m Park Jimin. I, uh, I think they might have double-booked the room… I’m meant to be staying here,” he gestures behind you to your cabin and you blink a few times.

“Oh.” You turn promptly to your boss beside him; a stout middle-aged man who’s pretending to follow along the conversation, nodding in faux understanding even as his eyes glaze over. “Angelo,” you address, switching to the colloquial Spanish you’d grown accustomed to, “he’s saying you booked out my room.” Maybe not in those words, but still.

Angelo’s face crumples sheepishly. “About that… There’s a chance that we forgot to take your cabin off the booking website when you permanently moved it. It’s, uh, actually quite good luck that nobody has booked it in until now.” His voice trails up at the end like a question as he splays his palms out.

Awfully fond of the older man over your years here, you fight the twitch of your lips. “Good luck? This poor guy came all the way from South Korea only for his room to be already occupied. What; are you gonna just send him home?”

Your boss blinks slowly, lips pursed as he considers. “Well… That room is technically meant for two…” He trails off meaningfully with a shrug.

Your stare goes hard. “Angelo.” You force yourself not to glance at the man standing beside your boss. It doesn’t stop you from making out the concern on his face, and you feel your jaw stiffen. “The agreement when I moved here was that I got my own space. Why can’t he stay somewhere else?”

He sighs, rubbing his weathered face. “That’s selfish, Y/n-”

“I’m selfish, then. I’m telling you, I don’t wanna share my space.”

“And I’m telling you that you don’t have a choice. It’s only temporary. He stays.”

Before you can protest further, Angelo shows you his back, rushing away the way he came. You go limp with resignation, leaning back against one of the wooden posts on the veranda.

There’s no excuse for you to avoid his gaze now, so you reluctantly tip your head towards him. He’s shifting his weight back and forth nervously, pillowed lips pressed together and eyes downcast. Against your will, some of the anger slips from you, relaxing the tension in your jaw and the hardness from your voice. “Guess you’re rooming with me,” you murmur in Korean, snapping his attention back to you.

His eyes dance worriedly over your face. “I h-hope it’s not too much bother. I didn’t mean to make things difficult.” Jimin scratches at his exposed collarbone, leaving red lines on the almond skin. He speaks so softly, like a child in trouble. “I can sleep on the floor if I need to. All I really need is one room to set up my equipment.”

You frown, eyes darting to the three heavy suitcases behind him, as well as the bulky backpack slung over one shoulder. “Equipment?” As your eyes wander, they’re drawn to the pockets of people beginning to cluster behind him, the staff and locals whispering back and forth with eyes locked on Jimin’s silhouette. Pushing off the post, you pick up your mug and stand up straight again. “Actually, let’s talk inside. You look like you’re about to keel over.”

He doesn’t, but you don’t fancy giving the gathering crowd more time to ogle the mysterious man seemingly moving in to your private accommodations. Not even 9am and your day was already shaping up to be a disaster.

"It's a nice place," Jimin offers up weakly as you reach for the lightest suitcase, figuring you should probably help at least a little.

You grunt in confirmation, leading him - as he waddles with two larger pieces of luggage and the backpack - down the short hallway to the room across from yours. You'd been using it as a sort of living room; it had a single bed that you'd repurposed as a couch, a cheap projector that you used to stream Netflix onto the opposite wall as a makeshift television, and a couple bookshelves of novels, Spanish textbooks, and knick knacks you'd acquired over the past two years or so.

Jimin doesn't make it through the doorway as is. Instead, he stops and shuffles each piece in one-by-one, the final, largest hardshell suitcase dragging noisily along the doorframe as it barely squeezes in. He straightens up with a huff of exertion and lifts the edge of his white shirt, dabbing the sweat off his face.

You blink, staring at the smooth, flat planes of his stomach as he hunches over self-consciously. He makes the motion quick, clearly shy of revealing skin to a near-stranger. However, long after his shirt falls back in place, your mind is still replaying the sight of his pale caramel skin taut over his hip bones, and the thin trail of golden, almost translucent hair that leads from his belly button down past the button of his jeans.

Jimin coughs in discomfort and you swallow hard, forcing the image out of your mind for now. “Um,” you start, cringing at the way your voice wavers, “anyway; this is your room. I can move out my stuff for you.”

He nods, still awkwardly hovering in the doorway, hunched behind the suitcases like he’s trying to keep a barrier of protection between the two of you.

Like a final wisp of smoke from a blown-out candle, the last of your irritation distinguishes, and you sink down onto the edge of the bed. “It’s not you,” you explain softly, face crumpled into an apologetic frown. “I was angry at the situation, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m sorry.”

His eyes dance around the room, before finally jumping up to yours, a tentative smile playing at his plush lips. “It’s okay,” he shrugs simply, “I invaded your territory without warning; it’s only natural for you to react defensively.”

You blink. “Uh…” The silence you trail off into is stiff, but you find yourself at a loss for words. “Sorry, you never got the chance to tell me; what is it you do exactly?”

He shuffles out from behind the nearest suitcase with glittering eyes. “I’m a lepidopterist,” he announces proudly, before correcting, “well- not yet, I guess. I’m here to do research for my thesis.”

You mouth the unfamiliar word, frowning. “But we don’t have leopards in Ecuador.”

He grins, then, and your heart stutters unevenly in your chest at the way it lights up his whole face. “A lepidopterist studies butterflies and moths. I’m here to study the life cycle of a specific butterfly that’s found in this type of habitat.” His expression turns sheepish. “I know most people find it silly, or- or girly that I want to study butterflies for a living, but they’re really special. Special to me.” He glances down, then, gripping self-consciously at the strap of his backpack. “Anyway… I don��t mean to ramble, you probably have stuff to do-”

“I’d love to see them some time, if you wanna show me,” you blurt. “The butterflies, I mean. See what all the hype is about.”

His eyes crinkle at your interruption, cheeks warming candy pink. You fight a blush of your own, again overcome by how radiant he is. “Of course! Though- Don’t you live here? Surely you’ve seen them before. The one I’m studying, the longwing erato, it’s said to be pretty abundant in these parts.”

“I mean, sure, I’ve seen butterflies around,” you shrug. “But I haven’t seen Park Jimin’s butterflies.”

He lets out a flattered laugh, soft and tinkling. “Oh, they’re not my- I just-” He breaks off with another giggle, cheats heating up even further, biting desperately on his bottom lip to suppress a shy grin.

As much as you love seeing him all flustered, it’s his first day, so you cut him some slack. Standing up, you snake past the scattered suitcases and pat him on the shoulder. He ducks out of the doorway to let you pass, mouth dropping into a shocked oh shape at your sudden movement, but you just throw a playful warning glare at him as you pass into the hallway. “I have one rule,” you declare firmly.

He stays silent for a moment, waiting for you to continue. You simply lift your chin and stare, waiting for him to ask. It’s Jimin that breaks first, but that doesn’t surprise you. “Uh, which is?”

“No bugs in the house. As pretty as butterflies are, you keep them outside, got it?”

He smiles softly, but you can see a cheeky glimmer in his eyes. “Butterflies aren’t actually bugs, they’re lepidoptera.”

You flatten your glare. “You aren’t a bug either but if you break my rules, I’ll chuck you out.”

He baulks, eyes widening innocently. “I, uh… I don’t know if you’re joking or not,” he admits in a small voice.

“Good.” You throw him one last satisfied smile, and leave.

You manage to occupy yourself for the rest of the day outside of your now-shared hut, wanting to give him some space to settle in. Though you successfully keep your eyes away, pitching in on some errands that needed doing throughout the campsite, you couldn’t stop your mind from lingering on the gentle, unsure young man that was now going to be staying with you.

In fact, you’d ran over those fifteen or so minutes together so many times that when you finally came home, feet aching and stomach grumbling, it almost came as a surprise to you to see him wandering around and greeting you as you entered. Like a reminder that it wasn’t a movie you had seen, that he was a real thing that happened that morning.

“Hungry?”

“Huh?” You blink, very nearly tripping on the lip of your own front door as your eyes fall downwards, to the coffee table in the main room. The haphazard mess of snacks, remotes, and other knick knacks had been neatly placed on the floor beside the couch, and instead the square wooden table was laden with food, the quantity of which you hadn’t seen in this hut the entire time you’d been here. “Oh my god, what is all this?”

Running a hand through his hair anxiously, he shrugs. “I packed myself a bunch of food from home in case I got homesick.”

You tip your head to the side with a frown. “You’re homesick already?”

He lets out a breathy laugh, sheepish. You swallow down the way your stomach flips, not quite hunger. “No. Well- a little bit, but no, I just… I thought you maybe hadn’t had Korean food in a while, so we could, um, have some?” He breaks off, shifting uncomfortably as he holds a bowl of steamed rice in one hand and fiddles with the hem of his shirt with the other.

As you stare down at the aromatic offerings, it hits you with a belt of clarity. Just like you gave him space today, this was his olive branch to you. A way of starting off on the right food. You smile warmly. “I’d love to. That’s so sweet, Jimin. Do you need any help?”

Unfiltered relief glitters in his eyes and he shakes his head, slipping gracefully onto the floor, cross-legged. “It’s all ready,” he explains simply, “come sit.”

“It smells amazing,” you groan, stomach growling embarrassingly loud, “you must be an amazing cook to have whipped this up in that tiny kitchen.”

He glances over to the corner in question, barely a few cupboards, a refrigerator and some table top appliances. Looking back, he chuckles, lips pursed into a cheeky grin. He uses his chopsticks - the type of cheap wooden ones you’d receive at a takeout place - to point to the various dishes. “Ramen, microwave rice, Ottogi microwave soup, microwave jjajjang, and packet kimchi.”

“Ah,” you hum in understanding, reaching for the spare sleeve of chopsticks, “very traditional.”

Jimin quirks a smile, focussed below as he serves himself a helping of rice. You take the opportunity to look over him again, closer in the intimacy of your hut. The radiant daylight has given way to a burnt umber, a sunset glow like hot coals on the horizon. It casts a softness onto his face, a gentle warmth that spreads across the fullness of his cheeks and the honeyed blonde of his hair.

As he hunches over the table, his baggy white t-shirt exposes more skin than you think he realises. The short sleeves ruck up as his chopstick-bearing arms dip into various bowls across the table, revealing shallow slopes of muscle, and the hemline dangles low, bare chest hidden not by fabric but by shadow.

You mulishly redirect your attention to the steaming banquet in front of you, all the staples of your college days. “So,” you start, wishing for anything to distract you from the extremely good-looking figure across from you, “Mister Leopard Optimist, what’s first on the agenda?”

“Lepidopterist,” he corrects with an encouraging smile, and your heart swells at his pureness. “Well, first I need to get a sample group. I think I’ll spend tomorrow setting up properly and then around dusk we can go find some specimens.”

You blink in surprise. “We?”

Jimin’s warmth dissipates into pouted confusion, eyes round as he swallows the mouthful he had taken with poor timing. “You, uh- sorry, you said earlier you were interested. I shouldn’t have assumed…”

“It’s fine, you assumed correctly. We’ll be like the dream team,” you assure, wiggling your eyebrows at him playfully. “You, the leper doctorist, and me, your loyal side kick. Those butterflies will be toast. You’ll have specimens out your ears in no time!”

Even with the golden rays of sunlight, he looks paler than a ghost, choking on his own breath. “We don’t hurt the butterflies,” he corrects hastily, waving his chopsticks in alarm, “we just take note of them so we can study them over time!” He sits back, setting his chopsticks down with a dull clatter. “And it’s lepidopterist,” he adds gently, even as a concerned pout dimples his lips.

You muffle your grin with a sip of water. “Lepidopterist,” you repeat softly, if not a little cheekily. “I’m just messing with you, Jiminie. We’ll be the dream team of…studying them over time. Hm. Doesn’t have the same ring to it. I’ll come up with a cooler name for us.”

After you finish speaking, the room settles into an unanticipated silence, and you look up from your bowl. Jimin’s spluttering silently, cheeks and the tip of his nose a violent pink as he holds his eyes so wide you can see a ring of white all the way around. His mouth dangles open until he forces a swallow to close it, clearing his throat in short, self-conscious bursts.

You’re taken aback by his strong reaction. “Did I say something? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” You trail off. Offend you? Upset you? Did he think you were making fun of him?

“W-what did you call me?” he asks in a small voice, settling down his chopsticks in his empty bowl so that he can wring his fingers together.

“Um.” You have to think back, and your eyebrows lift in realisation. “Oh. Jiminie. That was too familiar, wasn’t it? We’ve only just met. I’m sorry.”

But his face is a strange mix of relief and confusion, shaking his head with enough emphasis to gently rustle the honey blonde locks of his hair. “No, Jiminie is okay. I, uh, misheard. It’s okay; don’t worry about it. Have you tried some of the stew? Here, let me…”

You let his abrupt topic change slide, accepting another serving of food, but you can’t help but linger on the thought well into the night: what did he think you were calling him?

Jimin doesn’t mention your late-night expedition until just before dusk, but that doesn’t mean it slips your mind.

On the contrary, you find it hard to concentrate on anything else. He leaves his bedroom door open, and every time you walk past you see him deeply focussed on set-up. Out of those three massive suitcases come electronics, fresh logbooks, blueprint papers, drawing tools, worn textbooks, and, rather confusingly, a framed photo of two chubby-faced children, grinning at each other in matching school uniforms.

You spend a concerningly long portion of your morning conspicuously hovering around the hut, sneaking glimpses of the way the pink tip of Jimin’s tongue sticks out when he focuses, or the strain of fine muscle beneath the grey striped t-shirt he donned that morning, making miniscule grunts of exertion as he wrestles out heavy tomes, stacking them with care on the shelves of the bookcase you had emptied out for him. By the time you break out of your ruling curiosity, it’s nearing midday, and you dash out of the house before Jimin breaks for lunch and wonders why you’re still here.

It’s a beautifully glittering Saturday in the Cuyabeno Reserve, which means that you’ll probably see half of the campers leaving for a day trip to Quito for shopping or activities (or decent Wi-Fi), leaving behind a steady number wanting to go on tours. You didn’t typically work Saturdays, but all the tour guides were encouraged to help out in busy times, or take initiative and offer them to any tourists awkwardly milling about. As you slip out from the shade of your hut and into the warm bath of Amazonian sunshine, you figure a tour might just be a good way to get one Park Jimin out of your head for a few hours.

The best thing about your job was the freedom. Even as you know the paid tours like the back of your hand, you’ve always been welcome to forge your own path in the rainforest, adjusting duration, location and information depending on your customers. In just fifteen minutes, you’d managed to gather a handful of couples, eight people in total. The group was primarily dominated by English speakers – several young Americans and Canadians, an elderly couple from Australia, as well as a set of parents from the UK that had left their college-age kids at home while they took an anniversary holiday. Also accompanying you were two shy young men from Spain, who seemed to understand partially what you were saying in English, but nevertheless you made sure to tack on regular translations for them just to be sure.

From the moment you set out, picking up one of the high-vis flags from reception on your way, you knew exactly what type of tour you were going to do. It had been a paid tour last year on Valentine’s Day, one of your personal favourites, because the story of it was centred around the more romantic aspects of nature; toucans and parrots in colourful pinks and reds, monkeys that curled their tails into a heart when they intertwined with another (you’d yet to see it actually happen in front of a tour group, but the fact alone was often enough to make them coo) and finally a meadow just on the edge of the river that, because of the plants and flowers that grew there, became a hotspot for about twelve different species of butterflies.

You’d been able to lose yourself in the vibrancy of nature for the past hour and a half, stopping regularly for drink breaks, chatting with the different couples on your tour. It was always special to you hearing what brought them to Cuyabeno, and you were known amongst your colleagues for always running overtime on your tours because you just loved getting to know the people on your tour, and making their adventure into the rainforest special for them.

It wasn’t until your first boot fell down onto the lush grass of the meadow that you knew you fucked up in choosing this tour route. As the eight people behind you gasp and gush about the magical bank, you freeze, your mind exploding into a silver stream of jimin jimin jimin jimin jimin ji-

“Woah, there’s so many of them!”

Stepping forward to encourage the tourists to spill into the meadow, you look around you at the flurry of motion. On one side of the group are the looming trees from whence you emerged; opposite that, the murky jade green of the river, barely lapping at the narrow bank, but glittering a sharp silver below the early afternoon sun. And in between is where the real wonder lies.

Shifting and darting, the air is alive with the vibrant array of butterflies, abundant as falling snow. The group is awash with awe as some stay perfectly still, hoping for the small creatures to land upon them, while others stir their arms gently through the air, watching the butterflies part and eddy around them like fish in a stream.

This had always been the reason the Valentine’s tour was your favourite; almost every other route took you in the opposite direction, since the other side of the island was where most of the river’s inhabitants were. So many tourists wanted to see as many animals as possible with the least amount of walking, and the tip of the island where you stood now was a long walk from camp.

You’d even come here once or twice with solo travellers, since they had more patience than a hustling group, and the magic of it never got old. Just last Christmas your boss, Angelo, had gifted you tinkling windchimes for your hut; instead, you had taken them down here.

There wasn’t much of a breeze now, so the delicate notes of glass and ceramics were quiet in the background, but they added to the feel of peace and serenity that you could tell all of the tourists were feeling, no matter their age. The Northern Americans had formed a group, pointing out the different species and trying to count them off on their fingers. The elderly couple had a surprisingly modern Android phone out, using the man’s longer arms to take an extremely high-angled selfie. Closer to the lazy shallows of the river, one of the Spanish boys had picked a pale purple flower from the grass to offer to the other.

Surrounded by love and butterflies, you’d quite literally led yourself back to the thoughts of the one you had tried to distract yourself from.

Jimin. Jiminie.

You’re approached by the middle-aged parents, suggesting here might be a good place to break for snacks and a drink, and so you acquiesce, sinking down onto the pillowy grass of the meadow and wondering which of the graceful wings that danced in the sky belonged to a longwing erato.

You manage to spend the rest of your day on tours, making sure to go on those well-worn tracks far from the butterfly meadow, and by the time you turn in your reflective orange flag for the day, Jimin’s waiting on the porch with a backpack, a chunky flashlight, and a pair of binoculars dangling from a cord around his neck.

“Where were you?” he questions instead of a greeting, fiddling with the hem of his beige shorts.

You tilt your head in confusion, staring down at him. It occurs to you that he’s in your spot, the place you sat with your steaming mug every morning. In fact, as you stand over him, it’s like your roles are reversed from the first time you met. “I was working,” you reply simply.

“Oh.” He deflates a little, eyes staring past you at the now-silent campsite, all the lodgers having since returned to their huts for curfew. Only employees were allowed to be out after sunset most nights. The one exception was the occasional night-time tour, but given the additional risks involved, your boss jacked the price right up and there weren’t many takers. Jimin must’ve spoken with your boss to be allowed to roam around at night. He focuses back in on you, and perks up. “Are you ready, then?”

“To go butterfly hunting? Always.”

Rather than leading you to the meadow, Jimin consults an extremely detailed (and scribbled-on) map, forging into the forest along the centre of the island, instead of out either side towards the river. You follow along, marvelling at the new territory that even you haven’t really explored.

The two of you move in concentrated silence, Jimin methodically tying little cornflower blue ribbons to branches along the way. At one point, you slow to a stop, crouching as you make out two red flashes. Upon closer inspection, you recognise the lime-green body to belong to the red-eyed tree frog making its way down the wide trunk of a tree, clearly spooked by the light from Jimin’s flashlight.

You sigh in relief as it tucks itself away safely. Frogs, specifically tree frogs, were a good indicator for the type of habitat you were entering. The fact that it was a non-toxic species meant hopefully your companion wasn’t leading you into a pit of venomous and poisonous creatures. The island was pretty safe, for the most part, but you still had to exercise due caution, and it seemed Jimin was so focussed on his butterflies that he’d forgotten they weren’t the only ones in here.

A hushed whisper of your name and the returning of bright light is your only warning before an impatient hand slips into yours, tugging you up and deeper into the rainforest.

You’re too stunned to protest, simply letting Jimin lead you into the untamed wilderness. His palm is warm in yours, fingers interlocked. His hands are smaller than you expected, and even as he holds on tightly, so gentle. You can’t help but feel the care that emanates from him down to the smallest detail.

As the active hum of the rainforest’s creatures and the rustle of leaves and bushes surrounds you, you barely notice the slight incline of the ground beneath you, the only indicator being that over time your calves begin to ache slightly.

Every time you open your mouth to ask how far, or if you could take a break, you’re stopped by a soft squeeze to your hand. Even though he’s in front of you, looking ahead rather than back at you, he seems to know just when to reassure you.

The walk isn’t particularly challenging, nor is it too hot, but you find yourself short of breath anyway.

When the two of you finally come to a stop, he lets your hand go. The loss of pressure around your hand gives you a weird pang of disappointment, and you tuck your arms around yourself to make up for it.

“Do you know what the longwing erato looks like?” he asks in an excited whisper.

You shrug. “Long wings?”

His eyes crinkle before his smile joins them. “I mean, yes; they’re more of a stretched-out oval compared to the roughly squarish shapes that most butterflies have. They’re black, with one or more red stripes on each wing. Here; hold the flashlight and I’ll find some.”

He passes off his equipment to you and directs the beam of the flashlight to the lowest branches of the trees in front of you, still well above eye-level. Although you do your best to keep the light steady, you find yourself glancing over to Jimin, his mouth dangling unconsciously open as he puts all his focus into staring down the pair of binoculars he brought. His warm blonde hair has been pushed off his face with a stretchy fabric headband, exposing the smooth skin of his forehead and the furrowed arches of his brows, slightly darker than the rest of his hair.

“On the trees,” he mumbles, with a minute jerk of his elbow as a gesture.

You startle, correcting the slant of the torch beam that had slipped astray as you watched him. This time, you focus on the yellow moon of light that splays across the trunks of the trees instead of your companion. Flitting around, casting narrow shadows across the artificial rays, are various bugs and moths, the latter of which gradually migrate closer to you, seeking the source of the light. “Have you found them?” you question, upper arm starting to ache from being held up so long.

Jimin hums, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth as he lowers the binoculars, pointing high up into the branches. “There,” he declares quietly with an excited grin, “on the right side, they’re all up against the bark.”

You squint, trying to search for the red stripes, but you can’t find anything. “That middle tree?”

“Here,” letting the binoculars fall back around his torso, he steps up beside you, reaching across to lift the flashlight higher. “Just past that skinny branch there.”

Your breath catches in your throat. He’s close enough that you can feel his body heat radiating through his thin shirt. Close enough for you to hear the resonance of his focussed breath. Though he’s holding the flashlight, your fingers overlap slightly and you can feel the pressure of his thumb on your knuckles and his fingertips touching the side of your hand. “I-” you break off to swallow past the dryness in your throat, “I still don’t see them.”

Jimin lets out a laugh, barely more than breath. He tilts his head closer, so that your temples almost touch. Feeling the soft locks of his hair on your skin, your eyes widen and you suck in a breath unconsciously. With a hand on the flashlight still, he has to wrap the other around your shoulders, pointing in your line of sight. “Just focus,” he instructs gently. “Right side of the middle tree, see that tree frog? The brown one?”

You make a noise of agreement once you locate the slowly moving creature, higher up than you had been looking. “I see it.”

“Good.” Jimin’s warm tone of approval sends something rushing through you. In the moment of quiet, you become aware of the minute movement of Jimin’s thumb, rubbing against your knuckles. Your fingers tense on the metal of the flashlight, but Jimin doesn’t seem to notice, simply bring his other hand up higher, pointing further up the trunk. “They’re up here, see? Follow the tree up until you see the black patch. It looks like it’s moving. Can you see it?”

Your eyes widen. “I see it,” you breathe.

You feel rather than see the smile that puffs up his cheeks. “That’s them,” he says warmly, voice echoing in your air, quiet enough that it’s just for you. “Longwing erato. Must be at least fifty of them, all gathered up. You can even see some of the stripes when they shift around. Lift up your flashlight a bit, it won’t bother them, don’t worry.”

The two of you stay there, Jimin’s arms on either side of you, for an unreadable amount of time. With nothing but the warmth of his body and the vague drone of the various bugs and nocturnal critters to join you, it could be moments or it could be half an hour.

Either way, there reaches a point where a breeze in the air sends a shiver down your spine, and you think it might be time to go. Turning towards Jimin to let him know, you’re caught off-guard when he turns at the same time.

Your noses brush, and then you feel the silken touch of his lips on yours. Eye-to-eye, you stare at each other for a second that feels like eternity, before you finally come to your senses and jump back, inadvertently leaving him with the flashlight as you tear your hand away from his.

“I- Uh- Sorry, I-” Jimin seems unable to do anything but stammer, in a normal voice that seems harshly loud after the hush you’d been in.

“It’s okay,” you reply back, but your voice falls flat, just as unconvincing to you as it must be to him. “It was just an accident. Just a mistake.”

Cast in shadow as the beam of the flashlight points downwards, you can still see clear as day how his whole face changes at that, flinching like he’s been hit. Stumbling around with a stricken expression, he glances once at the flashlight in his hand, darts his eyes to you before looking over to the direction of forest you’d come from and finally back to the flashlight.

Your blood runs iron cold with dread. “Jiminie, don’t-”

Like something snaps, Jimin hesitates no longer, turning and dashing into the trees. You start after him for a few jogged steps, watching the frenzied beam shoot through the rainforest like a laser, getting smaller and smaller as the noise of his exit slowly fades away, leaving you marooned in a black ocean.

Those pastel pink ribbons are your saviours that night. It’s hard to pick them out when the shadows penetrate the rainforest so deeply. You squint before every step to watch out for animals or other living inhabitants that might be dangerous, and it’s probably nothing more than sheer luck that you manage to peek the slips of fabric on the branches regularly enough to lead you back to camp.

On the grounds themselves, you see lights on, not just the safety ones that illuminate the way to the toilets and kitchens, but also the warmer yellow tones that you recognise to be emanating from your hut itself. Jimin.

Even as you feel a tugging in your heart to go, you also find yourself unable to step closer. Jimin left you. He wouldn’t want you to approach him. Either you’d disgusted him or offended him or both, enough so that he literally ran from you, and the last thing you could handle right now was confrontation.

Instead, you inch around the outskirts, finding a familiar beaten path that leads to one of your favourite places on the island: an old, relatively abandoned lookout tower.

Tourists weren’t taken to this one, anymore, and all of your colleagues kept away too. A few months before you had begun working, they’d opened a new, sleeker, taller, safer lookout to compensate for the higher numbers of tourists they were getting. Sure, that one was great, and with a top made primarily of glass, it gave a gorgeous view.

But there was something… different about the older one that kept drawing you back. Perhaps it was the rustic feel; all dark woods, concrete and metal, fitted to one of the taller trunks for stability. It blended into the landscape. Over the years, as the trees had grown a bit taller, it no longer rose clean above the topiary, but nestled between branches, right in the midst of the foliage. It was a view you couldn’t get from above or below, and as you curl into the corner, back pressed against the ancient tree, you felt your blood pressure gradually decrease.

Unlike most places, you could be truly alone here. But never lonely. Quietly, you tuck your knees to your chest and watch as a margay cat slinks down a branch of a nearby tree, eyes glinting in the moonlight. This dense inside the topiary, it’s hard to make out much detail, but you can see the black leopard-like patches on its tan fur, the whiskers twitching as it sniffs your presence.

Shoulders hunched like it’s anticipating a loud noise, the wildcat appraises you, carefully winding around the trunk of a nearby tree to provide cover. Cute as it is, you wait until it leaps onto a further branch and disappears into the shadows before you lie down on your side and close your eyes.

Getting back to the camp takes a sizeable portion of your morning. Although the foliage had provided sufficient insulation, the nailed planks of the lookout turret were unforgiving, and you wake up the next morning with an unignorable twinge where your left shoulder meets your neck. Getting down the tight coiled staircase takes long enough; finding your way back to base while being unable to properly turn your head to look around you feels like an eternity.

It’s just as the ground below your feet evens out into well-trodden grass and you gingerly roll your shoulder for the nth time that you glance up to see the chaos that lies in front of you.

Countless tourists stand around, confused and gossiping, littered across the campground as your fellow employees rush and dart between them. Some of them are on bulky radio phones or walkie talkies, others packing what looks like expedition equipment.

But they only attract your attention for a moment. Like you’re magnetized, your eyes are immediately drawn to the two figures outside your hut. Standing with deep lines of concern on his tanned face is your boss, Angelo. Sat on the veranda beside him, wrapped in a blanket despite the early morning heat, is Jimin.

They haven’t seen you yet, no one has, and so you allow yourself a moment to silently observe them. Well. Observe him.

Jimin’s got his fists bundled up under his chin, pressing up his cheeks, yet he’s never looked more gaunt. His eyes are sunken and desolate, even as they glitter from deep wells of tears that redden his nose and soak patches in the blanket. Angelo’s hand is on his shoulder, offering him a tissue, muttering something, but Jimin simply stares ahead blankly, bottom lip trembling.

Jimin…

His head jerks up, eyes seeking you out, and you realize belatedly that you’d said his name aloud. But it doesn’t matter, because just the unfiltered relief on his face is enough to trigger your feet to move again, walking numbly towards him as your boss leaves him sitting there, rushing forward to greet you.

“Fucking hell, Y/n, you better have a damn good reason for terrifying the entire Lodge,” his rough colloquial Spanish rings out in a fevered hush, “we were just about to send search parties.”

You stand in shocked silence as he unhooks a walkie talkie from his waistband, quite literally calling off the horde of Cuyabeno employees gathering on the campsite. They, upon receiving the notice, glance over to you, showing varying degrees of relief and annoyance, and herd the guests back to their cabins.

“He’s been inconsolable all night, you know?”

Angelo’s voice whips your attention back, and you furrow your brows. “Huh?”

“Park Jimin,” your boss emphasizes with a scolding tone. “Bawling his eyes out, waking us all up at ass o’clock in the morning. Got half the team convinced you’d been eaten by a jaguar or something. Poor guy feels so guilty.”

“I was fine,” you defend, glancing past him at the sitting figure of the man in question, who looks so tiny perched on the edge of the veranda, red face poking out from the blanket.

“Well, how the fuck were we supposed to know that?”

Something snaps inside you, too wired up to hear the concern and relief that hides below Angelo’s façade of anger. You look away from Jimin, but stick a finger out to point at him while you glare at your boss. “He was the one that left me stranded! He was the one that ran away with the only flashlight we brought. He was the reason I spent the night sleeping in the rainforest. You tell me he’s feeling guilty? Well, he fucking should be.”

Behind Angelo, you see Jimin visibly flinch, stiffening and ducking his head so as to appear smaller. Though you had spoken in Spanish, your pointing and tone had probably left nothing to the imagination, and you lower your hand now, feeling a spike of regret.

The older Ecuadorian man just sighs, the fight leaving his body. “You could just talk, you know,” he offers up tiredly, “sort it out. Don’t let it fester. Maybe he just freaked out, saw a scary bug or something. You know how these city folk can get.” He purses his lips in consideration. “Then again, he is a bug scientist.”

“Lepidopterist,” you correct absentmindedly, eyes cast downward. “…I’m gonna go home, Angelo. Get ready for work. Sorry for worrying you,” you add, genuinely this time.

He lets you go without words, instead wrapping you into a fierce hug that lasts just long enough for your bones to begin to melt, anger slipping away.

With tired feet and a heavy heart, you make your way to the entrance of your hut, pausing in front of Jimin. Rather than jumping to greet you or apologise, he simply watches you balefully, eyes glossy with misery. You feel yourself break a little at the hurt in his gaze.

“I wanted to give you space,” you explain weakly. “I found a place to stay for the night. I didn’t think you’d worry so much.”

Jimin doesn’t reply, just sniffs and swallows and nods a little bit.

You let out a breathy noise, not quite light enough to be a laugh. “So… What time are we going butterfly-watching next?”

Brows furrowed strangely, he stays silent for so long you almost give up and walk past him. Eventually, though, his fists go lax and the thin blanket drops from around his shoulders, falling to the floor. He’s still in the t-shirt and shorts from last night. Somehow, this fact makes your eyes sting. “I think I’m just going to do it by myself from now on. Give you…space.”

For a moment, his lips wobble slightly, like he’s got something more to say, but then he just exhales with an air of finality, and focuses his gaze past you, to the distance.

Leaving him alone on the porch step hurts, but there’s nothing else for you to do.

In his defence, Jimin does exactly as he promises.

He gives you space.

Were it not for the closed door in the hallway and the weight in your heart, you could almost forget he was even there. Jimin doesn’t eat with you, instead sneaking out to take advantage of the thrice-daily buffets offered to guests. By the time you wake up in the morning and drink your ritual tea on the front porch, he’s come and gone. Occasionally you can hear him working, but not most days. In the evenings, you hear him pack his things and leave. You’re asleep before he returns.

You continue to go on tours, sticking to the ones far away from the butterfly meadow, but you can’t avoid butterflies themselves. They are, as Jimin pointed out earlier, abundant in this area, but you swear you didn’t notice them as much until these past few days. They flit around, drawing gasps and coos and camera clicks from your tour groups but leaving you with an uncomfortable twinge in your chest.

It’s an entire three weeks before you discover why he ran that fateful night.

Bad weather cancels a day of tours for you, and late into the morning you hear murmuring coming from Jimin’s room. You know you shouldn’t eavesdrop, but you can’t help the yearning you feel. The moment you consider tiptoeing up and pressing your ear to the door, it’s like your mind is made.

His voice is softer, sweeter, more playful than you’d ever heard directed at you, even before the strange falling-out. “…pretty, aren’t you? I know, I’ll take care of you, don’t worry. I’ll be gentle. Hm? Minnie’s here.”

Your stomach turns, and you rush away as quickly and silently as you came.

Of course. Of course a guy like him had a girlfriend. It’s not like he was obliged to tell you, and you shouldn’t have assumed he was single. Poor guy probably felt grossed out, probably thought you’d intentionally made a move. No wonder he freaked when you called him Jiminie too, if Minnie was her pet name for him or something.

It’s a relief when the next morning breaks out in sunshine. You don’t fancy being in that house longer than is strictly necessary.

“Can we talk?”

Jimin jumps when he opens the door to you waiting, blinking in shock. “I have to get going…” He’s somehow even paler than when he first came, probably from only ever leaving the house at night-time, and though his eyes are bright, they’re sunken.

You don’t move when he puts his head down and makes an attempt to step forward again. “Please, Jimin. I owe you an apology. Besides; there’s no reason for us to hide from each other and be miserable. Let’s just talk.”

He scratches at his collarbone past the neck of his t-shirt, which protrudes more than you swear it had when he arrived. “Yeah, okay. Come in, I guess.”

He raises a tired eyebrow at your sigh of unfiltered relief, simply ducking back into the safety of his room, hopping onto the single bed cross-legged.

You follow after. “Look, that night got out of hand, but I think I get now why you…” You trail off once you step fully into the room, mouth hanging open.

It’s messy like when he moved in, an organized and dedicated chaos, but there’s one key difference. Amongst the open textbooks, scribbled notes, and strewn stationery on his desk, one large object catches your eye.

An entire branch, dangling from rope taped to the ceiling. You couldn’t recognize the tree just by that alone, but after taking in the lush leaves and forked twigs, something inside you thinks it’s probably from that same tree, or at least the same type, that the longwing erato butterflies were on that night.

Of course, you wouldn’t need the branch itself to tell you that. What makes it clear as day is the ten-plus butterflies that flutter around the room, resting periodically on the branch itself.

Jimin ducks his neck, rubbing at his chest in self-comfort. “You wanted to talk?” he questions innocently.

You don’t let the joyous spike in your heart at him speaking to you distract from what’s in front of you. “I said no bugs in the house. Are you serious?”

“They’re not bugs,” he whines defensively. You stare in open-mouthed bewilderment as one, smaller than the rest but with thicker red bands on its wings, lands on the top of one of his pointer fingers, settling after a few moments. Jimin’s eyes warm, a smile tugging at his lips. “I didn’t want to bother you by coming and going all the time, so I just got them to come to me… I can take better care of them this way.”

With a conflicted frown, you push down your divided emotions on this statement in the hopes of pushing forth. “Anyway, I wanted to say that I get now why you freaked out. I overheard you talking with your girlfriend the other day and-” You blink, cutting yourself off. The words you’d heard muffled behind his bedroom door I’ll take care of you, don’t worry. “You… Do you have a girlfriend, Jimin? Or a boyfriend?”

Jimin’s so startled it disrupts the butterfly from its perch, but he barely notices, eyes comically wide in shock. “Wh- y- Are you propositioning me?”

You splutter, realizing belatedly how poorly your statement was phrased. “No, I, sorry, I just wanted to ask because I thought I overheard you one day talking to someone on the phone. And I thought perhaps that was the reason you took off that night, because you thought I was making moves on you when you were taken.” His expression is unreadable, eyes glazed in what might be contemplation or might be annoyance, but you forge on with a deep breath. “So, whether you have a partner or not, I wanted to apologize, because that night was an accident. I wasn’t like, trying to make out with you on a butterfly hunt. That’s… yeah, that’s all I wanted to say.” His eyes drop from you wordlessly, and your heart stutters in concern. “You can say something now. Please.”

His shoulders fall slack; you hadn’t noticed how tense he was. “Y/n…” He gives a bittersweet sigh, lip tugging into a reluctant smile. “Well, first of all, it was not a butterfly hunt. Secondly… I haven’t been fair to you. I should apologize too. Could you sit?”

He shuffles sideways on the bed, patting the rumpled sheets beside him. You hop on, and it’s not until an awkward silence threatens to descend that he finally speaks up again.

“Listen, I wanna be clear. I don’t have a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend or anything. I wasn’t talking on the phone that day. I’m sorry for running when we went out that night, I really am. And it wasn’t because of you that I freaked- well, it was because of you, but not in a bad way.” He lets out a pained breath, staring doggedly ahead at the smattering of butterflies roaming the hanging branch. Even as he avoids your gaze, he subtly turns his torso inwards towards you, the shyest olive branch. “The truth is, I freaked because I really like you. And I… This is gonna make me sound like an asshole, but I didn’t want to let myself get distracted. I have to put this research first. I figured if I just avoided you, I’d get over it, but-” He waves his hand in the air helplessly. “That hasn’t been working out so well,” he admits in a defeated voice. With a final sigh, he falls silent.

You stay quiet for a few more moments, letting his words process in your mind. He actually liked you? The discomforting tug in your chest eases as the thought, the ache of your heart soothing into a warm thrum. But he had to put his work first. Of course. “I get it,” you say finally.

Jimin perks up, finally looking over at you with vulnerable eyes. “You…do?”

You crack a light smile at his stammering of such a short sentence, but then a wider beam takes over. Even if he wanted to never even touch you for fear of getting ‘distracted’, this was enough. Just seeing his face, hearing the notes of his voice, his expression light up in hope; if nothing else, this was enough. “Yeah,” you reiterate with crinkled eyes, “I mean, let’s look at this rationally. You’ve been studying in uni for how long? Paying fees, buying textbooks, studying hard. And now you’re doing a thesis, which you had to uproot your life and fly out to another country for. I bet that was expensive, too. And on top of all that, it’s clear how much it all means to you. You just met me because I happened to be staying in the hut you’d booked. I don’t wanna get in your way, Jimin. This work makes you happy.”

“You-” Jimin cuts himself off, clearing his throat noisily, shaking his head at himself cutely. “Um, I really appreciate that. Now I feel silly I didn’t just tell you that three weeks ago. You know how hard it’s been sneaking showers at the crack of dawn? Those campsite bathrooms don’t even have mirrors. I’ve become an expert at shaving by memory.” He sends you a small smile then, small but genuine, and on his lap his fingers stretch out shyly, before falling back into a loose fist.

Not wanting to disrupt the cheery mood, you reach over to shove at his shoulder playfully. “Well then, how about instead of distracting you, I help you? I’ll be your official sidekick. Or assistant, whatever it’s called.”

“Is that so?” Jimin retorts with glimmering eyes. Like it’s sensed the warm ambience returning to the two of you, a lone butterfly has flown over, settling itself between waves of honey blonde, off-center so that Jimin has to strain his eyes over to make it out. “Hey, Molly,” he mumbles so softly his lips barely move, but, right beside him, you hear it.

“You name them?” you question in confusion, but he doesn’t get the chance to answer before it hits you. “Oh my god. You were talking to the butterflies, weren’t you?”

Jimin stiffens up defensively, but takes care to do it slowly enough that the black-and-red butterfly in his hair, Molly apparently, doesn’t get disturbed. “Makes things grow better,” he mutters through a pout, cheeks glowing an embarrassed pink. “And they have personalities too, you know? Just like dogs or cats.”

You observe the way he leans back away from you, braced like he’s expecting backlash or humiliation. Instead, you nod slowly. “So, what’s Molly’s personality?”

He goes stock still in surprise. “Molly?” After you nod again, he relaxes slowly, fiddling with his hands in his lap even as his face warms. “Molly’s a sweetheart,” he reveals tentatively. “She likes keeping me company more than the others, and when I need to take notes on her wing growth she sits so nicely.”

Your eyes widen in wonder. “Woah, that’s incredible,” you breathe.

He tilts his head to the side. Molly settles herself in deeper, batting her wings a couple times but staying there. It makes you quirk a smile even as Jimin sends you a look of confusion. “What’s incredible?”

“Jimin, these are wild creatures,” you elaborate, “I don’t think we’ve had any researchers stay here before, certainly none specifically for them, and you’ve only been here three weeks yet already they trust you. Do you have any idea how amazing that is?” Do you have any idea how amazing you are? You bite your tongue to stop the words.

He gives his head the smallest shake, wary of the resting butterfly on his head. “All I did was talk to them. Be gentle with them. Look-”

You gasp when suddenly warmth envelops your palm, Jimin softly interlocking your fingers. He stands slowly, then tugs at your hand for you to follow. You do so in an almost religious silence, the hush that speaks louder than words. His fingers, although short, fit with yours perfectly, and as the two of you make your way to the hanging branch he squeezes gently in reassurance.

Licking his lips to wet them, he turns you and holds your connected hands in the air. “If you’re calm and quiet, they’ll trust you too.”

Barely breathing, you nod and stare wide-eyed as he gradually moves your hands closer to the branch. Once the back of your knuckles brush a leaf, he pauses there. “Lift one finger up in the air,” he instructs softly, “like a landing post.” You do as he asks and wait for approval, but his eyes aren’t on you. Rather, they focus on the three butterflies that huddle on a nearby leaf, one of which looks all but asleep to you. “There’s Yoyomi, Kong, and Mickey,” he utters. “Kong is a drama queen, he acts like he hates affection, that’s why he’s gone so still, but one of the others might come over.”

The two of you wait with baited breath and clasped hands as the smaller one of the three alights, fluttering around before delicately landing on the pad of your finger. Your heart stops with the lightest pressure of its legs on your skin, barely more than a tickle.

“See?” Jimin whispers, eyes glittering. “That’s little Yoyomi. Say hi.”

Your finger threatens to falter. You feel stupid talking to a bug, but hasn’t Jimin proved that it’s making a difference? And besides, you can’t let him down after he’s chosen to be so vulnerable with you. You can’t say no to him. “Um. Hi, Yoyomi. You’re very beautiful.” With the warmth of Jimin’s hand on yours, you’re certain he can feel the way your pulse throbs in your wrist, heart racing as Yoyomi’s wings, red at the tip instead of down the middle, give a welcoming flutter.

“Very beautiful,” you hear Jimin repeat in the softest tone.

Your gaze lifts to him, where, instead of looking down at Yoyomi, his eyes are on you. You swallow the euphoria that rises in your chest. “I… I hope you’re not getting distracted,” you say awkwardly.

His lip twitches down. “Sorry.” He lets go of your hand suddenly, giving Yoyomi a fright and sending her off, landing back on the branch with Kong and Mickey. You lower your own arm, feeling the tip of your finger tingle strangely, missing that delicate weight. Missing his touch even more. “I’ll be good. I’ll focus on them.”

You smile reassuringly, past the regret that builds deep in your stomach. “We can have a clean slate, yeah? Like a butterfly kicks off its cocoon, we can get rid of the negative energy and go back to being friends. A fresh start.”

The tension leaves Jimin’s face, replaced by pursed lips as he suppresses a reluctant smile. “You really know nothing about butterflies, don’t you?”

You back up closer to the door, resting your head playfully on the doorframe. “I have a very neglectful teacher.”

He lets out a laugh then, tinkling and giggly, and you feel your heart soar. “Oh, is that so? Well, our first lesson is 9am sharp. And I will be taking attendance,” he adds with faux sternness.

You nod, playing along, feeling so light you could float. “I’ll be there.”

“Mm, I’d say 38 millimeters. No; put down 37 and a half.”

“Aye aye, captain,” you cheer, carefully noting down the measurements.

Jimin tuts, eyes remaining trained on the gently batting wings of Una, another one of the older butterflies. “I said not to call me that. Okay, and it looks like the stripe is the same as last week. Have you got it?”

You bite down on the inside of your lip. “I do, master.”

Jimin splutters. “Stop,” he whines petulantly, “look, you made me give Una a fright. Una, it’s okay, don’t g-” He breaks off with a sigh. “It’ll take ages for her to work up the courage to come back over now… Stop teasing me. We’ll have to move on to Molly for now, okay?” He glances up at you warningly, pink lips still pressed in a pout.

You force your eyes not to linger, instead lifting your chin in a decisive nod. “Yes, chef.”

This time you’re rewarded with a full beam, Jimin’s eyes crinkling so much they just about shut completely, delicate hands pressing down on his cheeks in an effort to suppress. “Stop it! You’re making fun of me!”

“Well, who else can I make fun of?” you point out innocently. “When I called Kong an old man you made me sleep on the couch.”

Jimin’s mouth falls to a small o of shock. “That was a joke. You were the one that actually did it.”

Shrugging non-committedly, you doodle squiggles in the margins of Jimin’s notebook. “I take my job very seriously,” you defend, raising your eyebrows. “Which, speaking of, I wanted to ask. Are you free tonight?”

Jimin blinks, ducking his head back like he’s got whiplash. “Are you asking me out on a date?” he questions incredulously.

You put the book down, locking eyes with him. “I’m asking you out on an expedition,” you correct.

“Do I get to know where this expedition is going?”

“Absolutely not.”

He doesn’t hesitate for a second, brown eyes warm. “Deal.”

“That doesn’t look safe,” Jimin frowns, tugging at the hem of his light cotton shirt as he eyes the looming contraption.

“But you promised,” you retort, already with a foot on the base. You’d taken him to one of your favorite places on the island, your lookout tower. Of course, the last time you were here hadn’t been so fun, but as the sun sinks lower in the sky, you know it’s time to rewrite some better memories.

“I never agreed to this,” he retorts. He sucks in a breath through his teeth when you grab onto his forearm, tugging him up with you. Luckily, the stability of the tower, at least down on ground level, seems to suffice for him, and some of the tension leaves his shoulders.

“You promised to expe…dish with me,” you stammer.

“Expedish?”

“You know, go on an expedition? Expedite? Ex- Expedo-”

“Okay,” he cuts you off, stepping up onto the first stair that led upwards. “I’ll do it. Just stop making up words.”

You follow behind him dutifully, willing your eyes not to fall down to where his shorts stretch taut over his ass and thighs, calves flexing with every step higher. You attempt to distract yourself, simultaneously cursing and praising the fact you didn’t go in front of him. “I could say real words instead,” you offer helpfully, “like…barbecue. Lawnmower. Effervescence.”

Jimin gasps softly, in a playfully high tone. “Baby’s first words!”

You frown pettily, stomping your feet down on the steps so he can hear your dissatisfaction, but you can’t deny the way your breath hitches when he calls you baby. Dammit. “Just climb,” you mutter bitterly, quietly reveling in the triumphant peal of his laughter.

When the two of you reach the top, he’s panting, and you have to admit that you’re short of breath too. His eyes widen prettily as he takes in the view, holding onto the wooden slats around the border of the lookout to keep him stable as he rises onto his tiptoes.

Last time, the sun was well and truly set, but now the leaves are glowing in molten golds and oranges, the sky a pastel blanket over the island. The topiary is awash with activity, that unique window where nocturnal creatures stir and the rest settle.

“It’s beautiful,” he breathes, and you’re inclined to agree, but it can’t match the beauty you see in him.

Straining to catch every last inch in sight, his body is stretched into a graceful curved line, enough that his shirt lifts to reveal a narrow strip of skin above his waistband. Much paler than the bronze caramel of his face and hands, it reminds you just how much sun he’s been getting these past few weeks now that he isn’t hiding himself away.

He looks much healthier, too, with the softness of his cheeks returned to full blush and eyes twinkling with wonder as he watches birds coast along the horizon line, monkeys navigate the trees with ease, and a few margay cats just like the ones you yourself had caught prowling that past night. He looks happy, and something warm unfurls in your chest at the thought that you’ve contributed to that joy.

You don’t process his eyes on you until he cracks a shy smile, raising a delicate brow. “Thinking hard or hardly thinking?” he teases softly.

“Just thinking,” you murmur, unwilling to part your gaze with him just yet. He doesn’t seem satisfied, tilting his head with imploring eyes. You relent, unable to deny him. “Cada vez que yo te veo y que te pienso siento que florezco.”

Jimin pouts cutely, falling back flat on his feet to stare you down fully. “Well, what does that mean?”

“It means you should learn Spanish,” you retort, ignoring the thudding beneath your ribs. “You do live in Ecuador, after all.”

“Only if you teach me,” he jokes lightly with a playful tip of his head. He takes a step closer, then, and his face changes, sobers up. “Thank you, Y/n. For taking me here, I mean.”

With the cramped space of the lookout, he’s now close enough that you can see each individual eyelash that curve delicately, the finest smile lines on his cheeks, the thinnest sheen of sweat on his temples. He’s close enough that you could easily reach out and k- “You’re welcome,” you blurt out, inhaling deep through your nose in the hopes of clearing your head. Instead, you just breathe in the delicate smell of orange blossoms that you’re beginning to associate with Jimin, perhaps something in his body wash or shampoo. Your eyes flutter around, unsure where is safe to land. His eyes, which bore so intensely into yours. Or his lips, which are pinker and plusher than usual as he nibbles softly at them. You stare stubbornly instead at the tip of his button nose, fingers curling at your sides with the effort to keep them to yourself

“It’s hard for you too, isn’t it?” he questions in the smallest voice, barely more than a velvet whisper.

Your eyes lift to him unsurely. “W-what? What’s hard for me too?”

His hand begins to lift up in the air in front of you, before it falters, and ultimately settles awkwardly on the railing. “Holding back,” he finally admits. “Not getting…distracted.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Distantly, you wonder what exactly he was reaching out to. “Impossible.”

Jimin’s head dips, eyes falling to the dusty wooden floor below you. “I’m sorry.”

A dissatisfied shiver runs down your spine. “I- you don’t have to apologise.”

He looks stricken. “No, I do, I just- I’m working it out. I’m thinking it through. I’m sorry.”

You fight your disappointed, struggling to maintain the cool composure of rationality that holds your tears at bay. “I understand,” you reassure, “this research is what means the most to you. You have to put it first.”

“That’s the problem, I don’t know if it’s-” He shudders then, a full-body tremble that’s only masked somewhat by the sudden step back he takes, almost tripping on an uneven plank. “I have to go,” he rushes out, one foot on the steps leading down before he freezes, forces himself to turn back to face you. “Are you… Are you ready to go? We can walk back together. If you want.”

You feel your knees go weak as you nod, biting on your bottom lip harshly to keep face. “I’m ready to go back if you are. I’m sorry, I thought taking you up here would be nice…”

His earnest look takes you off-guard. “I am so grateful, Y/n, it’s so beautiful up here. Thank you.”

A strange, detached feeling washes over you, like defeat, only softer. “You’re welcome,” you say again, though this time you don’t know if you mean it.

You let it go, for a while. Jimin’s happy, and that’s enough for you.

Slowly, you were getting better at recognising each of the regular visitors by the slightly different patches on their wings, or even simply how they behaved. It was a strange thing to get to know them like you would with a pet, realising they really did have unique personalities. And over time, you opened the rest of the doors of the hut, too, until it became commonplace to wake up from a flutter on your cheek, or to check for any resting butterflies on the couch before you sat down. It brought a sense of life to your abode that, in full honesty, you’d probably never truly felt before. But of course most of that led right back to Jimin.

Jimin, who no longer held himself back from chatting away softly to the butterflies like they were his friends. Jimin, who patiently explained the life cycle of the longwing erato for the nth time when you still got lost. Jimin, who did his best to stay professional but couldn’t hold back his warm smiles, gentle touches, and reassuring words. Jimin, who was overflowing with so much love for everything that you felt it grow within you too.

“Y/n?”

Jimin’s alarmed voice catches you off-guard from where you’d zoned out in the kitchen, milk warming to room temperature on the bench as you’d gotten too distracted to pour it into the bowl of waiting cereal. Cursing, you shove it back in the fridge and abandon your breakfast to rush down to the study.

He’s hunched over his desk, unaware of Molly nestled on his shoulder, as he focuses intensely on what’s in front of him.

“What’s going on?” you question, not wanting to approach the desk so suddenly just in case you startle him or whoever has his attention.

“Baby got his wing torn again. I think he’s been going to that patch of rosebushes behind the kitchen.”

You gasp, risking a couple steps forward silently. Your chest is taut with anxiety as you watch Jimin gently pin Baby onto a towel with an oval metal loop that keeps his wings still while allowing his small black body to move. He wriggles in the eye of the loop, but settles as a single pinkie finger strokes his wings with the lightest pressure. Baby, as his name suggests, is the youngest of your little ragtag bunch at only 8 days old. Jimin wasn’t sure, but he believed Molly might be the mother. Most of the females laid a few eggs every day, but only a few over the month and a half had actually chosen to come into the house. Baby, however, had shadowed Molly from the moment he’d first flown in.

“That’s the second time,” you murmur, rubbing at your shoulder in concern. “Will he be okay?”

Jimin hums, lips barely moving when he speaks in a soft register. “It’s a bigger tear than last time but it should be an easy fix. I just hope he learns this time. Can you get me the repair kit?”

You do as he says quickly but calmly so as not to disturb anyone. “Here. Do you need anything else?”

He doesn’t answer for a while, gnawing at his lip as he takes some contact adhesive and a small wooden dowel. “Um, no, but… Could you just stay?”

Your heart jumps in your chest; you curse that jolt of euphoria in a time like this. “Of course I can, Jiminie,” you reassure, pulling up a stool beside him and giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Of course I’ll stay.”

Later on, after Baby’s made a full recovery and Jimin has given him an extremely gentle scolding, the two of you decide to have a night in. Jimin exhausts the last of his Korean microwave meal supplies, you crack out a couple of old bottles of red wine you’d gotten for Christmas two years ago, and the two of you curl up on the couch in your pyjamas, talking about everything and nothing.

It’s shortly after midnight, once Jimin has long since jiggled the final drops of wine from the second bottle into his waiting mouth, and you’re feeling sleepy from carbs, that you ask him why he likes butterflies so much. For some reason, the thought had never really occurred to you in these past weeks.

“I mean,” you continue, voice loudened by the weak buzz of alcohol, “I get now that butterflies are super cool. But like, what made you even pay attention to them in the first place? It’s such a specific career.”

Jimin, who had significantly more of the wine than you, pats his own red cheeks in thought, smiling absentmindedly to push them out rounder. His eyes glaze over, but with how well he held his liquor, you think the faraway look is due to something else. “It’s silly,” he brushes off, tapping his pinkie fingers on the apples of his cheeks.

“Come on,” you whine, tipping your head to the side and widening your eyes pleadingly. “I bet it is just as cute as everything else about you.” Your brain screeches to a halt. Did you really just say that? Clearing your throat awkwardly, you reach for a half-empty glass of water, maybe his or maybe yours, and take a sip, willing your cheeks and ears to stop burning.

Jimin ducks his head with a flustered giggle, splaying his arms on the table to bury his face between dramatically. “Stop,” you hear him say, able to distinguish a pout in his voice even through the muffling. “It is silly. You’ll laugh at me.”

“I won’t ever laugh at you, Jiminie,” you say honestly, smile dropping. “I promise.”

With a deep sigh, he rises up again, locks of warm golden hair sticking up at odd angles like bedhead. Avoiding your gaze, he puckers his lips shyly, reddened where he’s nibbled at it. “It started back in primary school. My best friend loved butterflies, he wanted to be a lepidopterist even before we knew the word. Always talked about how beautiful they were and if he spent his life looking at beautiful things that he’d be happy forever.”

A thought occurs to you. “The one from that framed photo in your room?” you question.

Jimin looks up so fast he has to blink away the wobble of light-headedness that strikes him. “You’ve seen it?”

“The two little schoolboys, right?” you confirm. Once he nods, you grin, rushing to his room with the added aerodynamic rush that tipsiness gave you. The picture frame is on his little bedside table, and you gently carry it with you back to the lounge, dropping down heavily beside him on the floor instead of your perch on the couch. “So this is you and your friend?”

Jimin takes it with a fond, dopey smile. Both young, chubby kids are tan with crinkled eyes and black tufted hair, their matching uniforms and grins making them look thick as thieves. The shorter one with a perfectly round face made up primarily of his chipmunk cheeks and a button nose, clutches the straps of his backpack proudly. Jimin points at him. “That’s me,” he tells you, a chuckle in his voice, “I’m older than him yet he’s always been bigger than me. Unfair.” With a distant look, a quiet smile, Jimin brushes his thumb over the glass where the other boy stands, the cutest boxy smile revealing a set of pearly whites. “That’s Tae. I owe him everything.”

You look back and forth between him and the aged photograph, muffling a yawn that the late hour has triggered. “Are you guys still friends?”

Jimin sets the frame down, humming an affirmative. “He’s still back home.”

“Is he a lepidopterist too?”

A quick surprised glance to you to acknowledge you finally pronouncing his job title correctly, then he laughs warmly, shaking his head. “He’s an artist, can you believe it? Paints the most gorgeous things. Realistic ones, abstract ones, ones with only two or three colours. Has his own pseudonym and everything.” Jimin sends a grin to you, like an inside joke only you share. “He likes painting butterflies the most, though.”

“Do you miss him?” The moment the words are out of your mouth, you regret them. Jimin sobers up, and the moment is lost.

“Yeah,” he admits morosely. “But less than six weeks until I can go back home and see him again!”

Like instant karma, the realisation that he’ll be leaving shatters your good mood too. “Not long… Anyway, you do your research and go back and give it to your university? How does the thesis work?”

Jimin’s face sours with a bitter scoff. “Gah, it’s so confusing. There are so many stages, and reviews, and deadlines… I was a little late on sending in my first progress report, but it’ll be fine once I get the go-ahead. There’re meant to be every month, but I was a bit behind on typing all my notes up. There’s just so much to say, I don’t know how I can only mention some things and not others.”

You tip your head to the side, feeling the warm buzz of wine slip through your fingers, leaving you feeling heavy. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs, tucking his legs so that he can rest his head on his knees. “I don’t know, like… Why should I get to say what’s relevant and what’s not? I write everything down, as much as possible, but for my report I had to try and choose what to cut for the word limit. Why is Kong’s feeding habits more important than Ronnie’s extra red stripe on his right wing? Why should I tell my supervisor that 87% of the female butterflies I’ve studied oviposit an average of two eggs a day but I don’t have room to tell her the joy the whole kaleidoscope had when Sophie finally laid her first eggs after a whole three weeks?” He leans back so that his head tips onto the couch seat, eyes upwards but unseeing, turned down in despair. “I could write a whole book on every single one of them, but all my supervisors want is data and generalisations. They want rules they can put into biology books and quote marks, they don’t really care about the stories. Taehyungie would understand.”

“I understand,” you feel the inexplicable need to say. “You’re such a good person, Jiminie.” Feeling a sudden wave of exhaustion hit you belatedly, you groan, pushing yourself up laboriously from the floor. “Aaand I think it’s time for me to hit the hay. Tonight was fun. Don’t worry about the mess; I’ll clean up tomorrow.”

“Have you forgotten we share this hut with the wildlife now?” Jimin asks with a quirked brow, laughing melodically when you groan again. “Don’t worry, you go to bed. I’ll clean up. Goodnight, Y/n.”

You should feel bad, you should tell him you’ll stay and help, but your bed is positively screaming your name. “Thank you! And for what it’s worth,” you add, “you’re the best leopard optimist I’ve ever met, Park Jimin.”

Though you don’t know it then, the radiant beam you receive is the last smile of his you’ll see for a while.

Seeing Jimin angry for the first time is the original red flag that something's up.

Waking up later than usual, you stretch languidly and pad down the hallway, already thirsty for your routine cup of tea, but Jimin's form hunched over stiffly in the kitchen causes you pause.

"Morning," you chime, but he doesn't even react, lids low and jaw tense as he stares intensely out the window. "I can make you a drink if you'd like?"

"Forget it," he spits, and you flinch. Six weeks together and you'd never heard that venom in his voice before.

"Did...Did something happen, Jiminie? Was it me, or...?"

His chest heaves in a shuddering breath, eyelashes fluttering miserably, before that stern fire returns. "No," he answers shortly. "It's me. It's this fucking thesis."

Your eyes fly wide, and suddenly concern and confusion turn to genuine alarm. Since when did Jimin swear? "The thesis?" You rack your brain, straining to recall your conversation last night. "Oh! The report, right? Did they finally get back to you?"

He lets out what sounds like a sob, lifting a hand to block it, and your heart melts, pulling him in for a hug. You can feel the stuttered way his heart is racing, as well as the way his whole body trembles with contained emotion as you tuck your chin on his shoulder, rubbing his back.

"Tell me," you coo, "tell me what happened. I promise it'll be okay."

"It won't," he assures, and like the shifting of winds, his body stiffens ironlike again, and he detaches you from him, crossing his arms with a hateful scowl. "She fucking rejected it. Told me to start again. Square one."

You're so shocked you don't even acknowledge the hurt of him pushing you away. "Holy shit, what? Can they even do that?"

Jimin scoffs darkly. "It was my fault, anyway. Meddling. Interfering with the research."

"How?" You think on it for a moment with furrowed brows. "Wait, you mean like, letting them in the house?"

"I mean everything, Y/n," he growls, voice growing louder with every word. "Letting them into the house, feeding them, fixing Baby's wing. She even told me off for giving them names, said it 'blurred the lines of scientific neutrality.' Now I have to start my three months of research again, with a different study group, no interfering. Halfway done, and now I'm-" He breaks off with an exhausted sigh. "Whatever. It's done now. At least you get your wish again. No bugs in the house."

You feel your heart sink. "Jiminie, that's not-"

"Please," he cuts you off, determinedly avoiding your gaze. "I messed everything up by meddling. I- I don't want to do it again. Let's just be roommates. Just call me Jimin, please. I'm sorry."

Against your will, tears well up in your eyes, not for yourself but for him. The pain that was written across his face. "I am so sorry," you manage to make out in a thick voice. "I'm sorry that you're stuck here with me and not Taehyung."

Jimin recoils violently, already pushing off the counter and making his way out of the kitchen. "Don't you dare speak to me about Taehyung."

He leaves, and the greater part of you knows he's taken your heart with him, just a broken void inside.

After a week of Jimin focussing fully on his work, you still end each day crying yourself to exhaustion. After two weeks, you notice your pants are a little too loose, and recall you'd forgotten to feed yourself most days. After the first month, you're taken aside by Angelo and told that you'd been receiving worse and worse feedback forms for your group tours. The truth is, seeing the wildlife, particularly the butterflies, makes you feel ill. You tell him you're just feeling under the weather and he suggests you take it easy for a few days. Those 'few days' seem to drag forever, your boss never asking you to come back in, so you wallow in your bedroom like a depressed ghost, wishing you could fade away.

Because it isn't just that Jimin's pushed you away. He's not even avoiding you, quite often curling up on the couch to pore over a textbook or type up notes periodically onto his old, bulky laptop. You see him almost every day, but he never says a word to you, and what really hurts is that he's burning out just like you are.

He's not happy. With sunken bags under his hollow eyes, he moves around in a lifeless mope, complimentary meals at the shared dining hall and kitchen the only thing keeping the plumpness in his cheeks. It tears you up inside to see him so miserable in the job he loves, the hut filled with negative space, emptiness where there should be flitting butterflies in the air and on every surface.

You don't know what he did with them. You'd gone to work that day and returned to find that all evidence of the butterflies having been removed. No Molly settling in your hair, no Kong acting like a tough guy, no sight of sweet little Baby and his slightly wonky wing. All you knew was that now he religiously checked the windows every night and morning to ensure they were closed.

Whether he realised it or not, you missed them too.

"It's been over a month," you say to him awkwardly one night after he comes back from dinner.

He pauses in the entryway, one foot in the air with a hand ready to take off his boot. "Yeah?"

"I just- Um, I was wondering if your one-month report came back okay."

He sighs delicately, and gives you a nod, finishing removing his footwear. "She gave me the go-ahead to continue, if that's what you're asking. Although she wasn't too happy that I needed more funding for another month and a half on-site."

"Don't pay," you blurt without thinking.

"Huh?"

You stammer, collecting your thoughts. "I- I mean, you don't- you don't have to pay. For the room. I can talk to Angelo. I don't mind having you here."

He pauses with socked feet, staring at you strangely, before his eyes clear and he shakes his head. "I don't want to be indebted to you."

You shrug. "It's not a debt to be repaid," you prompt, "it might not even work, I'm just saying I could always ask Angel-"

"And I don't want you to ask," Jimin cuts in, walking with thudded stomps to the kitchen, taking a water bottle from the fridge. "Just leave it alone, okay? It's the university's money anyway. Besides, I've already-" He cuts himself off, taking a swig from the cooled water.

"You've already what?"

He huffs, twisting back on the cap and levelling you a glare that has no energy to it. "I've already asked Angelo if I can change rooms if a hut frees up. So don't bother."

You go silent, shock and hurt swirling noiselessly through your veins.

His face crumples, stricken at your reaction and he gives a sniff before looking up at you one last time, ready to head to his room. "Goodnight."

You don't even spare him a reply, looking back down at the opened page of a book you'd been blankly staring at before he'd come in.

In your peripheral vision, you watch him wait for a moment, before his shoulders sag and he leaves in silence.

You don't realise you're crying until a fat drop lands on the page, blooming as it sinks in.

Willing your heart to let go, to forget, you bury yourself back into your work, taking on as many tours as possible and spending time with the kitchen and cleaning staff otherwise. It works for a long time, welcome distractions that occupy your mind and body, and you almost manage to convince yourself that it all was some distant event in the past, or a strangely realistic dream, that Jimin was just another roommate here for a job.

That progress shatters in a heartbeat when you come home to a familiar butterfly battering itself against the glass of the window beside the front door.

You falter, watching it silently as it repeatedly flies at the glass, dull thuds of impact, flaps of wings as it wriggled over the unyielding surface. "...Baby?"

Like it hears your voice, the butterfly stills, wonky wing slowing to a regular waving as it rests on the windowsill, turning to observe you.

"What are you doing?" you murmur in confusion, even as your heart leaps, the euphoria of meeting an old friend unexpectedly. You'd just about forgotten how naturally it felt to speak to them, but it all came back to you now. "What's going on?"

Baby flies over to you, hovering in front of your eyes before fluttering away, back the way you'd came. Hesitantly, you follow, and this seems to be the right thing to do as Baby continues to take periodical flights forward, checking you're following every single time.

Like a trail of breadcrumbs, Baby leads you to the back of the shared kitchen, to the set of untamed rose bushes that grow beneath the window. Hurriedly, Baby flutters to a leaf quite low to the ground and, checking around for people watching, you hunker down on your knees in the uneven dirt in front of the bush. "Baby, you know not to play here, you could get... Oh god."

These roses are a pale yellow, so it takes you no time to spot the weakly fluttering form lying on its back in the soil. It's been over a month since you've seen her, but you recognise her red patches like she'd never left. "Molly! What are you doing in there you poor thing?"

You feel a tickle on your inner wrist, Baby crawling down into the loose cup of your hand. With rising dread, you begin to piece the puzzle together. Baby, who already had a history of getting caught in the rose bushes, probably went in and got stuck. Molly, who'd always kept Baby near, would've gone in in a heartbeat to get him. But, judging by the way her left wing had a long tear running down towards her body, leaving it in two limp, barely-connected pieces, she'd been the one to hurt herself on the thorns this time.

"M-Molly," you call weakly, heart thudding in your chest in fear, "I'm gonna get you out, okay? Baby, come sit on my shoulder, I need my hands free."

Rather than risking injuring her more than she already was, you dig your fingers into the lush soil, lifting up the section of dirt with her on top, using both hands. Thorns leave red lines across your knuckles and cut nicks in your forearms, but you ignore the pain, focussed on gently extracting Molly safely from the bush, Baby restless on your shoulder, immediately fluttering down to rest on the soil beside his mother.

Rushing home, you knock on the door with your foot, just about cracking the wood - or your toes - in your urgency.

Jimin answers eventually, throwing you a weird look when he first seems the heap of dirt in your hands, before noticing what's on it. "Wha- Baby? Molly? Y/n, I'm not meant to- Oh god, what happened to her?"

You sniff, no hands free to wipe your nose which threatens to run. "Baby was outside when I got home, he led me to her. She got torn up in the rosebush."

He sucks in a breath, leaning closer to inspect her damaged wing. "I- We can't- I can't...meddle," he stammers, eyes shiny with unshed tears.

You furrow your brows in disbelief. "But- Jimin, you aren't even studying the original group anymore, why does it matter?"

He falters, taking a step back into the house, eyes on the doorframe instead of you or the butterflies in your hands. "If I make an exception now, I know I'll just keep doing it, and I can't afford to ruin my research again. Can you just- just take them away, please?"

Your mouth drops open, salt bursting on your tongue as tears slip in from the corners of your lips. "But Jimin, this is Molly!"

He lets out a sob, lips trembling violently as he scrubs the tears from his face and eyes with the back of his hand. "It's just a butterfly," he answers hollowly, voice cracking on the last word.

"You don't believe that," you accuse.

Jimin squeezes his eyes shut, thick trails of tears dropping over his cheeks. "Just please go," he begs. Without a further word, he steps back, and the door shuts on you.

With no hands free to wipe your face, you sit on the porch with stinging eyes and snot on your upper lip, staring down at the two butterflies on the soil in your hands miserably.

"I'm so sorry," you make out with a raw voice, sniffing noisily. Baby bats his wings slowly in confusion, staring down at his mother, who grows weaker by the minute. How long had she lain there, unable to move, while Baby tried to get Jimin's attention? How much longer did she have? A new wave of sobs wracks your body, and you let it pull you under, feeling like this heartache is the least you deserve.

Though it takes hours, sun setting and shadows spreading over the grass of the campyard, you stay on that porch, trying to wipe your face on your shoulder so your tears and runny nose don't drip onto your friends. Your friends.

You couldn't save Molly, but you didn't want her or Baby to be alone.

She flutters her good wing for the last time shortly after midnight, judging by how high the moon is in the sky, an omniscient bystander tucked behind cloud.

Baby stays beside his mother for a while. Ten minutes, two hours, you don't know. Eventually, he crawls slowly over the dirt and onto your arm, like he doesn't have the energy to fly. With the lightest tickle of steps up your arm, he finally tucks himself in the hollow of your collarbone, a flutter of misery and solace. Your tears are silent now, but they never stop.

After an eternity, the door clicks open quietly. It's Jimin.

He stays quiet for a moment, eyes on you though you don't turn to look at him. "Is she gone?" he asks finally. You nod emotionlessly. "I'm sorry," he whispers into the pre-dawn air.

You swallow down the lump in your throat. "You lost the one you should've said sorry too hours ago."

He goes quiet at this. You almost expect him to turn around and go back inside with how long he goes without saying anything, but eventually he speaks up again. "I want to do something. I- It's too late now, but... I think the least I can do is give her a...proper burial."

You've been thinking about this yourself, for some time. Baby gives a curious flap of his wings. You sniff, tears finally drying up for now. "I know a place," you answer.

You walk in silence, leading the way.

At one point, Baby leaves your shoulder, flying back. You hear a solemn, "hey, buddy," followed by muffled sniffs and shaky breaths that sound like he's begun to cry. Wanting to give him some privacy, you don't turn around to check.

By the time you make it to the butterfly meadow, sun has broken over the horizon. Hot on your back, it casts long, thin shadows on the grass as you approach. "We're here," you say redundantly.

"I guess I'll- I'll dig a hole somewhere," he murmurs back, overtaking you.

Though he's grieving, you're surprised at his lack of reaction, until he steps in front of you and wipes his eyes clear of tears, hands slick with how much he's been crying. He could probably barely see to follow you. The moment he lowers his arm and looks up for a spot, he gasps quietly, eyes widening in awe.

A couple of days of rain recently had done the meadow well, and it's lush beneath your feet, a vibrant green that glints silver in the sunlight with morning dew. Sprinkled around are uncountable species of flowers, some recognisable like daisy patches and dandelions, the more colourful ones along the outskirts of the trees unfamiliar yet just as magical, pastel pinks and deep reds, pure whites and royal purples. But what's no doubt caught Jimin's eye, what he spins slowly around and strains his neck to see, are the darting kaleidoscopes of colour in the sky, at least a hundred butterflies all flitting around and basking in the unbroken sunlight.

"It's beautiful," Jimin breathes, "this is perfect, Y/n." He takes a deep breath, open mouth and lifted brows, trying to fight any further tears. There's a different glint in his eyes now. Not quite happiness, or content. Solace. Relief.

He picks a spot closer to the murky river, where the soil is damper and easier to lift. Once done, he helps you lay the heap of dirt, and Molly with it, into the shallow hole. Brushing off the dirt from your hands, you sit back on your knees, observing the way Jimin hesitates over the small pile of excavated soil beside the hole.

His hand hovers for a moment before he falters, looking up at you. Nestled in the honey blonde hair above his eyebrow is Baby, wings still. Like a cut directly into your heart, the thought strikes you that it's where Molly used to sit. "Should we...say something?" he asks tentatively.

Your heart melts. "I think that would be nice."

He swallows, nodding with distant eyes. "Um... Molly, you were the first butterfly that trusted me. Because of your friendliness, your family and friends grew to trust me too, and I'm so grateful that- I'm so-" Jimin's face crumples, and he buries it in his hands, voice muffled. "I'm so sorry that I betrayed your trust," he sobs, "I failed you and I failed Baby and I'm so so sorry."

Chest aching at the way Jimin looks so small curled up there in front of Molly's grave, you find yourself speaking too, to him just as much as Baby and Molly. "Molly, we were so lucky to know you. You brought light into both of our lives. I was truly happy in every moment spent with you, and now I know that you're in a better place, that you'll have eternal happiness. We'll try and keep positive and keep bright to honour you." Your eyes slip from Molly to the broken boy beside you. "And we'll take care of Baby for you. You did well, mama."

Jimin lets out a shaking sigh and nods, lifting his face up again. Even with red eyes and a running nose, he's beautiful. You take a breath and force yourself not to think about that now.

Silently, he fills in the dirt over Molly, covering her and leaving a patted-down patch of naked soil. There's a finality to it that leaves you short of breath, and the two of you sit wordlessly for a while, just watching the butterflies above flit around the sky, a gentle breeze flowing over your skin.

Once he's finished his quiet reflection, Jimin clears his throat, shifting so that his body faces you, although his gaze is still outward. "I'm not cut out for this," he says simply.

"The funeral?"

"No, I mean- everything. The thesis, the research. Scientific neutrality. I can't do it. It's too cruel."

You take the time to process this. "...What are you saying, Jimin?"

"Could you-" he starts in a strangled voice. His head ducks to look firmly at the ground, so all you can see is his mussed golden locks. "Could you go back to the way you said it before?"

"Huh?"

He fiddles with a blade of grass. "Jiminie," he whispers, and you hate the way your heart pangs when you hear it.

"Jiminie," you obey, "you don't mean you're going to give it up, right? Your thesis?"

He shrugs, head lifting reluctantly. "I can't do this for another two more months," he explains, "and I'm scared of what will happen when I have to- to leave."

You nod slowly. "Do you have to, though? Leave?"

Jimin nods, absentmindedly running a hand through his hair and letting out a wet chuckle when Baby, startled by the sudden shifting, flits over to you and rests petulantly on the crown of your head. He quickly sobers up, though. "Yeah. I have to go back, edit it, submit it, then defend it at my university. How am I meant to defend something I hate?"

"Could you..." You pause, catching up with your thoughts. "Could you change your thesis?"

Jimin lets out a sigh, plump lips turned down morosely. "And start from scratch again? Technically I could, sure, but I can't get past the scientific neutrality thing, Y/n."

An idea begins to bubble in the back of your mind, making you sit upright. "What if you didn't have to do either of those things?"

"What?"

"When you were taking care of the butterflies in the house, they were living longer, right? Because they were being fed and kept safe and given medical care." He shrugs, and you take it as an affirmative. "Then why couldn't you change your thesis to compare the longwing erato on its own versus it with your intervention? Your whole angle could be on like, conservation through human aid."

"I'd still have to start ove- Wait! This first month could serve as the 'before', and I can spend the next two months taking care of them to show the 'after.'" A smile stretches across his face, something you haven't seen in over a month, and it's positively healing. "Y/n, you're a genius! I would have to check with my supervisor, but... This could really work! And I wouldn't have to leave them alone anymore..."

Jimin's eyes dart to Baby, who's still comfy in your hair, then a change happens on his face, a realisation. "Y/n..." With bated breath, you lock your eyes with his, melting into the deep brown. "This- this whole situation has taught me something. That I'd rather make connections and prioritise feelings, even at the cost of what I'm supposed to do. I've lost someone very dear to me today, but the reality is, I lost her the moment I cleared all the butterflies out of the hut. And god, Y/n, I don't think I can bear to lose you too."

Your eyes widen, taken aback by the earnestness of his voice and the vulnerability in his face. "Jiminie..."

His eyes soften visibly at the way you call his name, his upper half leaning closer towards you, so that your faces are less than half a metre apart. Too far to touch, but close enough that you can make out every detail on his face, the way his eyebrows knit together and lift, the dark pink in your peripheral where he run his teeth over his bottom lip. "I've been so scared. So scared of the day I would have to leave you, that I'd tried to act like I didn't care, but I can't do it. If I have another two months here, I want to spend them at your side, not just under the same roof. I just... I have two questions. Firstly; what was it you said on the lookout tower that day? The Spanish sentence, I mean."

Feeling overwhelmed, your lips stretch into a fond smile when you recall it. "Cada vez que yo te veo y que te pienso, siento que florezco."

"That's it," he nods, "what does it mean?"

Somehow it feels less romantic in Korean, and you blush, having to fight to keep your eyes on him. "Every time I look at you or think about you I feel like I'm blooming."

A shy smile of wonder lights up his face. "You- even then, you liked me? I thought I was the only one then."

"You liked me too?" He nods sheepishly. "Since when?"

"The first time."

You give a confused head shake. "The first time what?"

"The first time I saw you," he reveals in a delicate voice.

Speechless, you just stare at him in shock for a moment, unsure how to respond. Finally, you clear your throat. "Wh-what's the second question?"

His voice drops to a lower register, honey like his hair. "Can I kiss you?"

Your breath catches. Instead of answering, you lean forward to close the distance, cupping his cheeks to guide his mouth to yours. Those lips, the ones you had spent hours fantasising about, felt like heaven against you, soft and warm and plush. Jimin goes still in surprise for a brief moment before he melts, the lightest vibration of a whimper tingling your lips. Belatedly, his hands lift to steady your hips and you sigh, tilting your head slightly to deepen the kiss.

You can feel his round cheeks warming beneath your fingers, his nose pressing against the apple of your cheekbone, and a tickle on your scalp where Baby flutters. But beyond that, beyond the silk of his lips and the beautiful gasps he lets out, there's a rising wave of euphoria inside you, and you can't help but smile into the kiss, overjoyed.

Not breaking for a second, you shuffle forward, slipping one hand into his hair, which is softer than cotton, longer than it was when you came without a hairdresser nearby to tidy it up. Winding locks around your fingers, you tug lightly from the nape of his neck to tip his head a little further back.

Jimin whines, one hand flying up to grip onto your wrist and you pull back in concern. He follows your lips, eyes staying lidded as he sucks in breaths through his mouth.

"Are you-" you stutter, "was that too much? I'm sorry."

He blinks at last and gives you a bleary look, sucking his swollen bottom lip into his mouth. "It's okay, it's just- Maybe not the right time and place."

You sit back, head clearing. "Right, yeah, that's fair."

Jimin's eyes drop to the ground with a coy, but still shy smile. "I would very much like to do that again. Preferably a lot."

You go to laugh, but grimace when you feel the dried tears on your cheeks. Yeah, definitely not the. right time or place. "Let's go home," you say softly, standing up off the ground. "I don't know about you, but I think it's about time we opened up our windows again. So Baby and the others can come back home too."

Jimin beams up and you and nods. "Let's go home," he echoes simply.

"Morning, Jiminie," you coo, tilting your head up onto the back of the couch so he can press a soft kiss on your forehead.

"Good morning, baby," he returns, smiling against your skin before straightening up again. "Not going out on the porch today?"

You let out a dry two-beat laugh. Outside, the campground is basically a mudslide, tropical rain beating down, pattering on the roof noisily. "Did you shut the windows?"

He collapses onto the couch beside you with a sigh, arms already winding around your middle to snuggle in close. "...almost all the way, yes." At your look of reproach, Jimin elaborates. "And I put towels on the floor under the window sills."

Unable to stay mad at him, especially not when he throws a leg over your lap and tucks in like a koala, you laugh begrudgingly. "I guess that's the best I'm gonna get, huh? Lazy day today? All my tours have been cancelled and I can't imagine you'll get much done out there either."

With a hum of agreement, Jimin lifts his head, resting it on your shoulder to look up at you. "That means it's just the two of us," he states coyly.

"Mm, and about thirty flying bugs. Romantic."

Jimin's brows tug down sharply as he glares at you, though without any real malice. "They are too romantic, and you know they aren't technically bugs. I put some sugar water on my desk for them, we can just ignore them."

You pretend to ponder for a moment, his face so close you have to pull back to fully see it. "Fine, but to be clear the butterflies stay out during sex."

He sits up, an unreadable expression dulling his eyes.

In response, you widen yours. "Wait... You don't seriously want the butterflies around while we're having sex, right? Is that some kind of lepidopterist thing? Because if so, I am not-"

"It's not that," he blurts hastily, "it's just..."

You let all playful humour drop from your voice, leaving only concern. "Whatever it is, you can tell me, Jiminie. I didn't mean to upset you."

He slips his arms back from around your torso. Before you can mourn the loss of his body heat, he latches onto your arm and cuddles into your side, covering his face with your shoulder. You can feel just how hot his cheeks are, and reach out with your other hand to tenderly card your fingers through his hair, hoping to calm him down.

"You'll laugh at me," he mumbles, lips moving against your bare skin. You tut softly, assuring him otherwise, but still it takes him a few moments to work up the courage. "I haven't...done it before."

"That's it?" you question softly. Jimin just lets out a miserable whine. "Jiminie, that's no biggie. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pressure you or anything. We can just take things slow."

He sits himself up a little, then, propping his cheek on your shoulder to look you in the eye. You suppress the twitch of your lip as you see the way it pushes his plush lips out and crinkles his eye with the displacement of the flesh of his cheek. "I want to though," he protests in a pout. "Because I like kissing so much, and I like you so much. I'm just...I don't know if I'm ready yet."

You hum in thought, cupping his free cheek fondly. "Is there a reason you haven't had sex before, or has the opportunity just never really come up?"

He shrugs cutely, leaning into your touch. "Well...Taehyungie-" He breaks off, fixing you with an imploring look. "You can't tell him I told you this."

Your lips stretch into a grin at the thought that he's expecting the two of you to meet one day. "I promise I won't."

With a resounding nod, Jimin continues. "Well, Taehyungie and I have always lived together since we moved out for university. He was always more confident than me, and so he- he slept with a bunch of people. Which is like, good for him, you know, I'm not judging at all, but... I don't know, from what he told me and what I...heard, it just sounded really aggressive and, um, intense. I don't think I can be like that. I don't know if it's really my thing. So I- I just never really did it."

You furrow your brows, processing his words. "Jiminie, sex doesn't have to be like that. Some people like it like that, others don't. It can be as gentle as you want, you know that, right?"

With a whine, he pulls away from you and buries his face in his hands. "God, this is so embarrassing," he moans miserably, "I'm sorry, I'm such a wuss."

"No, stop that," you chastise, softly linking your hands around his delicate wrists and pulling them away from his face, gazing into his puppy brown eyes intensely. "I'm serious, Jiminie, there's nothing wrong with not wanting that. Besides, we... stop me if this is too far, but we don't have to go all the way."

He blinks, lips moving silently before he collects his thoughts. "Do you- what do you mean?"

"Well, instead of going straight to sex, we could do other stuff instead. I could go down on you, if you want. Baby steps, you know? We don't have to rush."

His hands fall down the length of your arm, dropping to your free hand where he fiddles unconsciously with your fingers. "Baby steps?" he echoes.

You beam and nod. "Yeah. But only if you want to, only if you're ready." You carefully detach yourself from him, standing up off the couch. "Just think about it, and when you've made a decision you can-" You cut yourself off when your arm is tugged back by two small hands. "Jiminie?"

"I want it," he confesses decidedly, "I'm ready." His eyes turn soft, and the pressure of his fingers wrapped around your wrist and hand weaken. "Just gentle?"

Your heart melts in an instant and you can't help but stare down at him in wonder. "How are you so perfect?" you breathe, bending down to press a single kiss across his lips. "I'll be gentle, I promise." You go to leave again, but his grip doesn't falter, keeping you rooted. Bottom lip sticking out, Jimin looks up at you with rounded eyes. "Right now?" you ask in surprise. He nods, stutteringly. "Here?"

This causes him to pause. "Maybe...the bed?"

"Whose bed?"

More deliberation. "Y-your bed."

"My bed it is." You lead him, connected by the hands that still latch onto your arm. Your room, unfortunately, is a bit messy, not having expected the turn of events, and you hastily pull up the duvet and pat out the wrinkles, gesturing awkwardly for him to lie down.

Doing so, he hops up and wriggles so that his head is on the pillows, staring directly at the ceiling with startled eyes like a patient in a doctor's office. It would make you laugh if you weren't so worried about him feeling comfortable. "Jiminie," you coo softly, "if you aren't comfortable-"

"Maybe some kissing first," he blurts suddenly, lifting his head off the pillow to look at you, eyes rounded and pleading.

You beam, lying down on your side next to him. "I can't say no to that."

A smile stretches across his lips, which you soon cover with your own, leaning down to press a light kiss against them. He sighs, already relaxing further as his eyes flutter shut, sinking into the pillows.

Fingers splayed across his jaw, you litter countless pecks on his mouth, never more than a brush of pressure, until the bed shakes a little with him kicking out his feet. You pull back, replacing your smile with a look of innocence. "Is that too much, Jiminie?"

He pouts, snaking the arm closest to you around your torso so that you can slip closer. "Don't tease me," he whines, lip and brow crumpling to obtain your sympathy, but avoiding your gaze with red cheeks. "I jus' want you to take care of me."

"Of course I will, Jiminie, I'm sorry," you say with a rueful smile. "But do tell me if it gets too much, okay? I want you to be happy."

He nods, pushing his head back onto the pillow, slightly on an angle to face you. "I will, I promise." His fingers find yours, tentatively intertwining your hands together, eyes low. "Can you kiss me again?"

You answer not with words but with a kiss, a proper one this time, lips pressing intently but still tenderly against his. A relieved sigh leaves his mouth, but it's swallowed up between you, Jimin tightening his arm around you so that your bodies fall flush against each other, one of your legs between his. With closed eyes, the feeling of him against you is even more magical; all plush lips, desperately grasping fingers and trembling body.

Even without a hand free to touch his face - one hand holding his and the other propping you up - you can feel the warmth of his cheeks, an overwhelmed blush that he can't seem to control, and the way he's responding to you triggers a heat inside you too. You deepen the kiss, parting your lips enough to let your tongue run down the seam of his mouth, Jimin letting out a surprised gasp that grants you entry. Though it had been just over three weeks since you'd first kissed him, it had always stayed very light, you waiting for him to make a move. Now, though, you realise that he's probably been waiting for you this whole time.

"'s this okay?" you check in, murmured against his lips.

Jimin shakily takes a breath, nodding in tiny jerks so as not to break the contact. "Ye- keep going," he pleads in a whisper.

Every time your tongue meets his, or swipes over the inner, more sensitive skin of his lips, he gasps, fingers flexing around yours. When adjusting your position, your leg brushes against his crotch and he shudders. He's hard.

Carefully monitoring his reaction even as you continue to move your mouth sweetly against his, you shift your leg again, brushing against the front of his shorts, fabric taut over the crotch. A throaty, keening whine leaves his lips, his mouth going slack. When he speaks, the tiniest puff of air is all that comes out, but you hear him still. "Please."

You let your hand go slack, pulling it down, but Jimin holds on tighter, refusing to let go. With him unable to kiss you back, you press your lips to his cheek, down to his jawline, the sensitive skin just below his ear.

He wriggles beneath you, already overwhelmed with just that simple touch, but also tugs your entwined hands lower between his legs, shifting his hips with a needy whimper.

"You need to let go, Jiminie," you instruct softly, "let go of my hand so I can touch you."

Reluctantly, his fingers untangle from yours, instead gripping onto a handful of your duvet. You take this as a green light to go ahead, and fiddle with the button of his shorts, gently flicking your tongue and sucking gently at the soft point where his jaw meets his neck, a sign of what's to come.

Once you manage to undo his shorts you instruct him to take them off, sitting back to watch him restlessly shuffle out of them, legs lifting so he can grab the fabric while still lying down, folding them and placing them to his other side, close to the wall. After lying flat again, Jimin blinks owlishly at you, hand covering his crotch. You move it aside gently, back to the duvet, and he buries his flaming cheeks into the crook of your shoulder, toes wiggling in embarrassment.

He wears simple white cotton briefs, a narrow trail of near-translucent hair peeking out from above the waistband, legs twisting together self-consciously, though it only makes his straining erection more obvious. "You're gorgeous, Jiminie," you say honestly, "so perfect."

His legs go lax, though they don't shift apart, ankles crossed, though that's okay for now. Not wanting to spook him, you start slow, cupping him over his underwear, thumb locating his sensitive head easily due to the coin-sized wet patch of the fabric above it. His thighs tremble even at the light stimulation, and he shakily lifts his head, pouting and straining for another kiss.

Continuing your slow, shallow circles of your thumb over him to ease him into it, you capture his lips again, shifting the arm propping you up on the pillow so that your hand can cup his head, massaging his scalp and keeping him in place.

"Does it feel good, Jiminie?" you question when you part from him to take a breath.

His eyes stay shut, cherubic lashes fluttering as he sucks his swollen bottom lip into his mouth. "Feels really good," he confirms in a husky yet melodic voice. "Can I have some more?"

"Of course you can, my sweet prince," you allow warmly. Shifting your hand away from his crotch, you smooth your palm over his hipbone, and then up under his t-shirt to brush up his side, making him shiver. "Do you wanna take your shirt off too, or just your underwear?"

His mouth turns down slightly at being made to make a decision, as he blinks his eyes open blearily. "But you still have all your clothes on," he protests faintly.

"I can take my clothes off if it makes you feel comfortable," you offer easily, "it's up to you."

Jimin purses his lips to the side in thought. "Maybe...we both take our shirts off? I- I wanna see you too."

Clearly he hadn't thought it through too much, because his mouth drops open in upset shock when you detangle yourself from him to sit up, shucking your shirt off and helping him to lift off his.

"Am I keeping my shorts on?" you question, but he just shrugs cutely, looking up at you from below his lashes. You smile. "I'll leave them on then, this is about you. Jiminie, can I take your underwear off now?"

With a deep breath, he nods nervously, letting you slide them over his hips and down off his legs, leaving him bare to you. You can see the way his fingers tighten on the duvet, probably with the urge to cover himself again, but you're glad he doesn't

Resting back against his stomach, his cock drips clear fluid onto the tan skin, a glossy patch that you long to run your finger through. You're surprised at just how hard he is, the head a deeply flushed pink and a single vein running up the underside. He's thicker than most you've seen, if a little shorter, and there's a delicate curve to him that makes you long to have him inside you. Not today, though. For now, you simply lie back down beside him, bringing him into a kiss meant to distract.

Rather than going straight towards his dick, though it's probably aching for attention, you instead return your hand to his side, smoothing broad strokes over his overheating skin as your tongue and lips move against his slightly-parted mouth.

Sucking his bottom lip into his mouth and very lightly grazing your teeth, you simultaneously thumb at one of his dusky pink nipples, pulling a stuttered moan from his open mouth.

"I wan' you to touch me," Jimin makes out through gasped breaths, chest writhing as you continue to play with his sensitive peak.

"I am touching you," you retort simply.

"Down there!"

Unable to deny riling up the responsive boy, you let the tips of your fingers run down the centre of his chest, right to the bottom of his torso, before skating to the side and skimming down his trembling thigh, gripping the muscled flesh. "Here?" Jimin whines out a no, and you raise your hand higher, pointer finger pressing at his hip bone. "Here?"

Breaking away from your mouth, Jimin wriggles his head in a shake, calling your name unhappily.

Taking mercy, you suddenly reach over and wrap your fingers around his shaft, thumb pressing down on his weeping slit. "Here?"

His back arches and he sucks in a moan, hand reaching over to grip your wrist as his eyes clench tightly shut. "Y-yes," he cries helplessly, curling sideways towards you, head shifting so that his fevered cheek presses against your other hand on the pillow.

"That's it," you coo, stroking up to collect some of the pooling wetness to use as lubricant, heart swelling at the beautiful sounds falling from his parted lips. "I'll take care of you, yeah?"

He nods his head shakily, already seeming so far gone after less than a minute, panting, writhing as you tighten your grip around him just enough to provide more pleasure. "Take care of Minnie," Jimin chants mindlessly, rocking his hips into your grip.

With a fond smile, you sit up, taking your hand off him so you can lower yourself between his legs, parting them with both hands even as he kicks them out in frustration. "Just be patient," you chastise, "I said I'd go down on you, didn't I?"

His breath catches and eyes open wide, marveling at the sight of you lying between his legs. "O-okay," he stammers, swallowing hard. "It'll feel good too?"

"It'll feel even better," you promise, gripping him gently, "just tell me if it's too much."

With bated breath and blown pupils, Jimin waits as you teasingly press kisses up his length, following the raised outline of the vein.

It seems like he's calmed down enough, so you lick a bold stripe up the path you'd set, Jimin's moaned sigh like music to your ears. His thighs are tensed up on your shoulders, and you can see the way his lower abdomen flexes, muscles shifting beneath golden skin.

"Relax, Minnie," you say, "you're okay." He does his best to let his muscles go lax, throwing an arm over his eyes, and you take the chance to put your tongue on him again, this time slowly dipping it into the slit at his tip where precum pools, a burst of tanginess that you can't say you mind. His mouth dangles loosely open, lips a dark pink like his tip with all the blood that's rushed to it. He's beautiful.

"Alright?" you check in, and he gives a shallow nod, tilting his hips up in the search for more stimulation. You continue simply laving your tongue over him for a few moments, getting him used to it, before angling him over your mouth and wrapping your lips around his head, sucking lightly.

With a strangled moan, his legs close like clams on either side of you, back arching clean off the bed. His fingers fisted taut in the duvet, he rocks his upper half side-to-side, other hand clutching at the corner of the pillow. Shocked, you lift yourself off of him, concerned it was too much, but this gets even more of a reaction, a high, needy keen ripping out of his throat as his hips jerk up, hiccuping out a, "ple-ease."

"Oh, Minnie," you coo softly, "did you like it? I didn't want to overwhelm you."

When his arm lowers from across his face, it reveals begging eyes bright with tears. "'S good," he whines, bottom lip trembling, "just got a fright."

Your lips stretch into a disbelieving smile. "A fright? Why; because I sucked?"

One of his hands stretches wide, fingers making grabby motions. You use the hand not currently on his dick to hold onto it and bring it to your mouth, pressing an apologetic kiss to the back of his hand.

Jimin swallows and shakes his head. "C-cause it was so w-warm." The way he hiccups through his words, out of his mind with need and still so sweet, has you melting. "You can do it again, though. I want it."

Acquiescing, still with a comforting grip on his hand, you lower your mouth again, this time going deeper so that the flat of your tongue drags against his underside. His fingers tense around yours, but his legs go lax, instead beginning to rock his hips in place, like his body doesn't know what to do with the pleasure.

The weight of him on your tongue is enough to have you drooling, making the slide even easier as you bob slowly, sucking steadily. On every upstroke, your tongue catches and flicks at the underside of his head, and he jerks each time, breath catching and exhaling in stuttered moans.

He sounds so beautiful above you that you feel your own core heating in need, clenching your thighs with the urge for stimulation. But this is about him, so you push the thought aside and pull up off Jimin's cock so you can focus your attention at his head, which so far seems far more sensitive than the shaft.

It only takes a few deft laps and shallow bobs before his whimpering and squirming beneath you, unable to stay still. His eyes have long since clenched shut, brows knitting with a wide open mouth as he's overcome with pleasure.

You use the hand that holds him steady to jerk off what's not in your mouth, and a low, guttural moan falls out of his mouth, tapering up into a squeak as he suddenly gets harder and spurts into your mouth, convulsing as you lap up all the cum that spills from his tip, swallowing as you go. It's more than you'd usually expect from oral, and you imagine that's a pairing of it being his first time, as well as the fact that he didn't see the type to masturbate often.

He curls up in on himself when the pleasure turns to sharp overstimulation, and you release him, his spent cock lying against his thigh, and you give him a few moments of rest to come down, holding tightly onto his hand and rubbing comfortingly at the outer side of his leg with the other, feeling how strongly he shivers beneath you.

Once he finally calms down, taking deeper breaths, you swing your legs over the bed and stand up, patting the back of his hand as an indication to let go. "You can use my bathroom if you want, Jiminie. Or just take a nap here. I should give you some time."

"Wait," Jimin protests in a low pout, laboriously propping himself up to a sitting position. "Kisses?"

You beam, leaning down to press a fond kiss across his silken lips. "Happy?"

Jimin nods with a blissed-out smile, and you swallow a chuckle at his ruffled honey locks and flushed cheeks. "So happy."

"I'm glad to hear it, my sweet prince," you coo, "but if you want more kisses, I better go brush my teeth."

The second report comes and goes, approved. More and more days are met with rain as the seasons change, and gradually Jimin becomes more comfortable with you, the two of you making the choice one day to push your two beds together after Jimin had rolled out of your bed one too many times from falling asleep cuddling. He promises he'll come to you when he's ready to take the next step, but as your final month counts down, a dark cloud begins to hover over the two of you. The fact that he'll have to go home soon. Too soon.

You hate that you've got a mental countdown blaring in your mind, but speaking to Jimin about it makes it real, and so you promise yourself later, always later that you'll bring it up, letting yourself make him tea and breathe his scent and feel his lips on yours in ignorant bliss just a bit more.

That works until you don't have any laters left. That works until you sit on his bed with a cup of lukewarm tea, watching him pack his bags. "Are you looking forward to going back?" you ask in a small voice.

Jimin, looking like a vision even in a ratty pink t-shirt and plain shorts, pauses with an armful of textbooks. "I'm... I'm excited to see Tae again," he answers with a nostalgic smile. "We've been chatting online a bunch lately. He's going to pick me up from the airport."

You have to bite down hard on your lip to prevent the sting of tears. "Does he know? About us?"

With indecision clear on his face, Jimin runs a hand through his hair, pushing back the strands that always seem to fall on his face, long overdue for a haircut. "I- To be honest, I don't really know what to say. I don't even know what to say to you."

"About what?"

"About us," he emphasises, dropping his textbooks with a thud on the floor and sitting on top of his first filled suitcase. "We never really had a conversation about it, you know? I know we should've, but... I don't really know where we go from here."

You nod, staring into the murky depths of your now-unappetising tea. "Well... We know you have to go back to Korea. To argue your thesis."

"Defend my thesis," he corrects softly, "but yes. Other than that, though, I still need to go over it with my supervisor, there are a few rounds of editing and finalising. It- it's not like a week back to finish off. I'll be there for a while. Probably a couple months at minimum."

"Minimum? I guess you'll stay there."

Jimin rests his elbows on his knees, head ducked and propped up in his hands. "I- I know what I want to do, but I'm scared to ask the question."

You frown. "The question?"

He looks up, takes a deep breath. "If I... If I wanted to come back, would you wait for me?"

"Come back?" you repeat, barely breathing.

Jimin's eyes glint; he's trying not to cry. "I didn't wanna speak too soon, but the more I think about it, I don't think I can just leave and never come back. I'm in love with you, Y/n. For a long time, now."

Your nose prickles violently, and you let out a shaky breath. "I love you too, Jiminie, so much. Of course I'll wait. As long as you promise you will come back to me."

Jimin nods, brushing back his hair again. "I've been thinking about that too."

You furrow your brows, putting the mug of tea onto his nightstand. "Coming back?"

"A promise," he clarifies. "To show that you're the one for me. That I wanna be with you." He takes a breath to steady himself. "I want to do it tonight, before I go. Have sex."

You sit upright, eyes widening. "Are you sure? Jimin, that's a big deal."

"Like I said, I've been thinking about it. I'm ready, and there's nobody I'd rather do it with than you. I trust you, and... and I love you."

"I love you too," you reply softly, and it feels even more right to say the second time, an unfurling of pure joy in your heart.

"Can we do it now?" he asks immediately, brows lifting to emphasise his pleading puppy eyes.

"Jiminie, you haven't even finished packing-"

"That doesn't matter," he interjects, "I can do that tomorrow morning, the shuttle comes at 10. I need you now, Y/n." He stands up only to crouch at the bedside beside you, grasping your hands. "Take care of Minnie again."

Your breath leaves your lungs in one defeated sigh. Like always, you can't say no to him, not that you even want to. "Okay, Minnie. Let's go to my room."

Though you've gone down on him a few times after his first, Jimin hadn't stopped being so sensitive, and so as you lazily make out (Jimin a little more rushed than you), you let your hand dip underneath his shirt, flicking at a nipple with a thumb you'd wet in your mouth moments earlier. Like clockwork, he trembles under your ministrations, this time hunched on top of you, straddling your lap and bending to meet your mouth.

He's gotten far more confident at kissing, and you're in heaven as he holds your face in both hands, licking into your mouth but whimpering from your touch all the while.

With his legs on either side of your hips, you can feel his hardness pressing down on you, already so eager, and you can't help but sigh blissfully when he rocks his hips unconsciously.

"Minnie," you make out between kisses, "too many clothes."

He tries valiantly to remove his shirt while remaining firmly joined at the lips, huffing when he has to sit up to pull it off. You quickly follow suit, but take the added step of removing your bra.

The first time he's seen your breasts, Jimin's mouth drops open, a look of awe glimmering in his eyes. You arch your back, wanting nothing more than for those sinful lips to wrap around your stiff peaks.

"You're so beautiful, my love," he gushes in wonder.

"You can touch," you whisper, though really it's code for please touch.

Chest heaving, he cups your breasts with gentle hands, thumbs skimming over the sensitive nipples like you'd done to him. The electricity of his slightly calloused fingertips on your skin is sent right to your core, and you let out a shaky breath, his hands rising and falling with it.

"Good?" he questions softly, and you nod, sighing out your confirmation. Jimin blinks down at you, wetting his lips. "Can I...?"

Without a second's hesitation, you nod, hoping he means what you think he means. You're proven right when he ducks his head, hot mouth latching onto your right nipple. The contact sends a bolt of arousal through you and you whimper as he immediately begins to suck, hard.

"Jimin," you make out in a strangled voice, taken aback by his sudden vigor. "Oh, god, it's so go-"

"Minnie," he interrupts, bringing his face up to your neck without lifting his mouth so that he leaves a wet trail ran behind him, "it's Minnie."

You laugh breathily, but your grin drops away to a shocked moan as he hungrily laps at your skin, sucking lovebites over your pulse point in a way that has you arching your neck, desperate for more. "Fuck, Minnie, where did this come from?"

"Wanna make you feel good," you hear in a muffled sigh, feeling the vibration on your skin. With a boldness you hadn't associated with him before, Jimin reaches between you and rolls your other nipple between his fingers, grasping at the flesh and tugging roughly.

Though it feels better than you'd like to admit, something's wrong, and you pull him away. "Wait, wait," you ease, struggling to detach both his hand and mouth from you. Once he realises you want him off you, he sits up with the confused look of a kicked puppy. "Do you not like it?"

His hands hang limply at his sides, and you interlock your fingers to reassure him. "Minnie, how come you're acting like this? You've never been this way before."

He blinks, a dimpled line between his brows where he furrows them. "Because we're having sex," he answers in an uncertain tone, "and I wanted to make you feel good. Is it not right?"

Belatedly, you recall a conversation you'd had about a month ago, about his friend's sexual habits. Poor Jimin really had internalised one man's preferences as the rule of thumb and taken it to heart. "Minnie," you say in a soft voice, and his face crumples, sending a spike of pain through your heart. "It's not wrong, it's just not...us, is it? Don't you want it to be gentle?"

Jimin sniffs, turning his head to the side, but not before you glance a tear tracking down his cheek. "I- Yeah, I like gentle. But Taehyungie-"

"Was Taehyung in love with the people he was having sex with?" you cut in to ask. "I don't want you to fuck me, Minnie, I want you to make love to me."

Sat on your lap, he looks so small, sniffling away. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," you coo, "don't think about how anyone else does it. Let's just do what feels good for us. You wanna do that?"

Jimin nods with a rueful pout, quietly leaning down so that he was lying on your bare chest, face tucked into the crook of your neck.

"Oh, sweetie," you murmur into the waves of his honey-blonde hair, a hand coming down to rub over his back. "We'll have all the time in the world when you get back to try new things if you want. I just want to make this one special for you, yeah? What do you wanna do, Minnie? Do you want to be on top or do you want to lie down?"

He shifts, relaxing within your embrace. When he speaks, you have to strain to hear it. "I- I thought maybe both of us lying down. Under the covers so it's comfy." He lifts his head back to meet your eyes. "Can we still face each other?"

You brush back his hair with a fond smile, nodding. "Of course. Do you wanna finish getting undressed and we can both get under the covers, hm?"

Your duvet is the thinnest possible one you could find, but even so, it feels like a furnace when the two of you curl up, lying on your sides to face each other.

Jimin seems considerably more calm and content with his setup, giggling as you plant kisses all over his face.

"Happy?" you ask, just to be sure, and Jimin nods decisively, eyes bright no longer with tears but with warmth and love. "Ready?"

He nods again, humming in confirmation, so you run a hand over his shoulder, down his side and dipping over his crotch to take a hold of him, being able to better see his pleasured expressions as you stroke him to full hardness.

Having his face so close, though, is too much of a temptation, and so you lean forward to capture his lips again, deeper this time, hooking a leg over his hips.

One of his hands comes to rest on your hip, and he sighs beautifully into your mouth. "So happy," he mumbles, and your heart leaps as his lips form the words.

Reaching between your spread legs to gather some wetness - which is more abundant than you were expecting, though you've been aching for stimulation down there for a while - you use it to slick Jimin's cock up, preparing him for an easier entry.

His breathing stutters with a hitched moan, already starting to shiver. You smile at his responsiveness, before focussing on lining him up, head dipping just slightly into you.

You can tell the exact moment Jimin realises he's inside you by the way he goes stock still, holding his breath in anticipation. "Still okay?" you confirm, and he mumbles the affirmative.

Unable to keep kissing as you push your hips down on him, you simply pant into his mouth, moaning as he fills you out.

The elegant upwards curve of his cock means that it presses along your top wall, making your thighs jerk when his tip hits your g-spot. "You're so good inside me, Minnie," you praise against his lips, groaning throatily when you finally take all of him, "do I feel good?"

He bites his lip with a whimper, hand on your hip moving to grasp clumsily at your ass cheek, like he wants to make sure he stays buried inside. "It's so tight," he gasps, "I- oh god, it's amazing, I love you so much."

You giggle lightly at his odd choice of timing on the love confession, inadvertently clenching around him which makes Jimin let out a stuttered high keen, curling inwards and jerking his hips to thrust shallowly.

You hiss in a breath, not expecting him to move so soon, but the feeling of being full, of it being Jimin hitting those spots inside you, is too addictive to stay still for much longer.

You start rutting against him in a slow rock, so that he doesn't quite slip all the way out of you before you grind back down, and his hand tenses on the meat of your ass, mouth falling slack.

With no urge to pick up the pace, you simply let Jimin and you enjoy the sensations of being connected on such an intimate level, nosing his chin back so that you can lap tenderly at the skin of his neck, picking a sensitive spot just above his collarbone to softly suck a reminder, something he can take back to Korea with him.

The thought of him leaving makes your heart sink, and to fill the void you begin to pick up your pace, building a delicious heat low in your stomach that has you moaning every breath. "M-minnie, I'm getting close, can you cum with me?"

"Y-yeah, I wanna cum. With- With you," he pants with a full-body shudder, hand leaving your ass to slide up to your back, pressing between your shoulder blades to hold you to him, gasping prettily into the air until you lift your head away from his neck to join your lips again, kissing him like it's oxygen.

You take the chance to slip a hand down and rub at your aching clit, and the extra sensation has you bearing down on him, causing him to start meeting your thrusts halfway.

Like a chain reaction, the pleasure between the two of you skyrockets until you meet your edge, toes curling and rocking needily against him, wanting to feel him fall apart too.

He cums with a high shout, gripping desperately onto your shoulder as he rides the intense waves, ebbing as you throb rhythmically around him with the force of your orgasm.

The two of you pant, mouths connected but too blissed out to properly kiss, and slowly your hips still, bodies wracked with aftershocks for a few minutes of nothing but the sound of you catching your breath.

Surprisingly, it's Jimin that speaks up first, eyes at half-mast as he nuzzles his nose against yours. "Can we stay like this? Sleep like this?"

In his vulnerable eyes, you read the fear of reality, of the fact that he's really leaving tomorrow. You can't say no to Jimin, never have been able to, but neither do you want to.

Instead, you simply press one last, tired kiss across his swollen lips. "Goodnight, Jiminie. I love you."

An almost inaudible sigh of relief. "I love you too."

It’s a day off.

You’re happy to be up early, though, because you're waiting for someone.

You always take this time of the morning to sit on the porch and drink a cup of tea, but today is different. You've already set up the spare room with a blow-up mattress, keeping the two single beds pushed together in your room. The fridge is stocked thanks to an antsy trip to Quito yesterday, and all night you were filled with restless energy.

Now, though, a sense of calm washes over you like deja vu. A contented warmth that blooms inside you when you finish your hot tea, eyes on the far end of the campground where you can see two figures chatting back and forth.

You stand, but you don't rush over, knowing they'll come to you. The short blonde, paler after returning from Korea, and at his side, a taller, dark-haired figure. Even though you've never met this second man, you recognise the boxy smile he wears as he glances around the campsite in wonder. The same smile that you'd first seen in a framed photo in Jimin's room.

A hand on his friend's back, Jimin points out your cabin, his eyes finding yours, crinkling shut with the radiant beam that stretches across his face.

Home.

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