#the other thing that's kept happening so far is I keep going 'I DON'T TRUST THAT' whenever Xie Lian's backstory stuff is mentioned

[fluffypurpleglitterdemon]

Getting into TGCF in an unusual order, having first been spoiled for several major plot points via enjoying fanworks (including the rather important plot point regarding Jun Wu) then watched the cartoon while waiting to get the books out from the library and only now beginning to read the books, has led to a lot of surprises! Genuinely thought watching the show that Ling Wen kept purposefully directing Xie Lian to enter the array when the other gods were trash talking him in it, was very surprised when he wandered into that scene accidentally fully on his own!

[periprose]

Hi! :)

I’m craving some Logan Howlett angsty fluff and I really like your writing style… Do you think you could maybe do a fic where either Logan and reader are in the heat of the moment and his claws come out and he scratches her. Or where Logan has a nightmare and the same thing happens. Either way the reader ends up comforting him.

Thank you! 🩷 :)

Hi!! So sorry for getting to this so late 🥹 loved the idea btw :) ended up doing a bit of a mix of both? If that makes sense.

/

"Out with it."

Your voice rings out clearly among the X-Men, the throng of battle no longer around you all. It was a more exhausting battle than you would've thought, but nothing irks you more than knowing that Logan has been apparently thinking of you as someone to play babysitter to. He hadn't trusted you to make your final blow to the enemy, and instead scooped you away to safety before lashing out with his own claws.

Logan clearly has something to say to you, and you want to hear it. You're not going to let him escape again- the way he always does, nonchalantly, refusing to acknowledge how he treats you.

Charles stiffens next to you in the helicarrier. Watching the tension, feeling the palpable heart-wrenching sensation between you and Logan. He doesn't know how you got to this point.

"Listen. Just because you didn't have it doesn't mean you're not a good X-Man-" Logan starts dismissively.

"But I did! I did have it!" You shout back at him, and then inhale carefully. "Nobody told you to rescue me, Logan. If I was about to die, then I was. I wanted that to be on my own terms."

"Don't talk like you're a fucking martyr when you've never had the privilege, kid." Logan's unnecessarily harsh tone has you flinching. "Do you know how many people I've seen die, for no good reason? Do you really want a bunch of Pentagon psychos to be your last memory?"

"Shut up." You shift in your seat, feeling small. "We don't get to choose when we die. Not like you."

Logan becomes visibly angered with that, the little taunt you've made towards his immortality. "That doesn't mean you have to go seek it out, dumbass."

"Oh really? Don't tell me you're getting soft, Logan." You glare at him, and Charles and Jean and Scott look at each other uncertainly. "Just because your life is so long doesn't mean the rest of us have forgotten what it means to be alive."

There's an unspoken, sudden charge in the air, now that you've mentioned what everyone else has the good sense to shut up about- Logan having lived so long and not caring about the consequences of his actions. Logan's eyes narrow until you feel sure that you've pushed him too far this time- he looks more animal than human, more Wolverine than ever- and you feel yourself inching forward, letting the anger of not being understood push you to fighting him- and Charles suddenly raises his hand in protest.

"Please, you two. I'm not sure what has transpired today, but I know you are better than choosing to have a physical altercation on a helicarrier flight." His calm, soothing tone makes you feel a little disappointed in yourself, and you settle back in your seat, refusing to meet his or Jean's glances of concern.

/

All you really wanted was an apology. A "Sorry, I won't do that again." Or even an explanation for why Logan keeps tabs on you all the time, never letting you be a real part of the X-Men, always safely on the sidelines. Were you just too weak?

Should you even be here?

You feel guilty for what you said to him. It's not a bad thing, you know, that Logan doesn't want you to get hurt- it's just that you want to do your job. You're not a kid.

It almost, almost justifies how you treated him, but even you know that was too far. You can't act as if you know Logan's life story- not even Charles or Jean would claim to do that, and they've searched his mind for memories several times.

Like it or not, the man was mysterious. He kept to himself on a lot of things, citing past hurt as his reason why- and you should've respected that.

"Maybe I am weak." You mutter to yourself, wondering why you can't restrain your emotions around Logan.

You're practicing shooting small, psionic blasts towards the target in your room- it's a great way to pass the time when you can't sleep- when you hear a groan, a shudder, an angry, deep growl-

It sounds like Logan. His room is right above yours, and the sounds are definitely coming from there- you hear him yell, and before you can stop yourself, you're bounding up the stairs to the third floor of the X-Mansion, bursting through his room's door with a ready hand, in case you need to fight.

/

Logan watches as you berate him in his dream.

Actually, it's not quite you- it's some venomous, evil, witch wearing your face. You giggle at him- you call him old- you don't take him seriously.

With every taunt, you fire another bright purple blast at him- and for once, his body doesn't heal instantaneously. He is getting old, getting hurt, watching as blood pools out of him. It's agonizingly painful.

He's going to die this time, without making it right with you- he's afraid that you're right about him, that he's a washed up sad old man who can't ever let people in.

"We don't need you anymore, Logan..." The not-you whispers softly, smiling a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes, and Logan can't help but believe it.

His self preservation instincts kick in, and he launches forward, snarling, claws out with a sharp snikt sound. He feels that even though he'll regret your death, he'll miss you immensely, it's just one more tally mark to several others.

/

"Logan. Logan!"

You're leaning over Logan's sweaty, clammy body in his bed. You watch as his hands fist in the sheets, and he tosses and turns in agony- you breathe in hesitation, in fear that he's not going to be okay- he grunts suddenly, and you're reminded of how Rogue tells you about his nightmares. They're frequent.

How out of touch could you have been today?

You gently-yet-firmly grab Logan's arm, shaking, and his arms move forward in a self-defense mechanism that seems practiced, as if he's been attacked in his sleep before, and before you can move away, there's a sharp snikt sound, a quick wave of claws, and a searing pain in your side.

It all happens before you can even blink. You fall off to the side, on the floor, writhing in pain. Logan's claws just nicked your side, it's essentially a scratch- but the pain is so much worse than you're expecting, and you fall to the floor again as you try to get up.

You breathe in harshly, holding back a sob, as you feel wet blood pooling through the side of your night dress.

"Jesus Christ." Logan pounces off the bed, waking to blood all over his claws, and he's leaning over your body, as you blink up at him hesitantly. He immediately panics, lifting you up and resting you on his squatted thighs. "Kid! Hey, kid, don't close your eyes-"

"..." You're just barely hanging on, but you listen.

And Logan feels that same sense of shame he felt when he attacked Rogue, when Jean "died", every single time he had accidentally unsheathed his claws towards someone who didn't deserve it.

Doubly so, considering it's like his terrible nightmare has come to life. But you absolutely didn't do anything wrong- he can't believe he was so angry with you.

He calls for help, in a slightly broken tone, and no one seems to be coming.

"Just a scratch." You try, but Logan shakes his head.

"No, no, no." Logan spits out. "How could I- I never meant to-"

"I'm sorry, Logan." You cough, and Logan feels awful that you're apologizing while bleeding out due to his actions. "I shouldn't have said what I said. You're not some unreliable old man who doesn't care..."

You flinch at a sudden, sharp pain, and Logan motions for you to stop talking, but you keep going.

"If anything, you're the opposite. You're there for me. And I'm sorry that I got so... so angry at you for that." You mutter to yourself, not aware of how Logan hangs onto your words. "You're protecting me from making mistakes, and I'm grateful."

"No, kid. You had a point before." Logan interjects, but you shake your head.

"Did I? Or was I being a brat?" You grimace at yourself.

"You did have a point. I was being selfish," Logan shakes his head and then swallows that urge to push you away. "I don't always know how to leave people well enough alone. Sometimes I'm too much."

He hesitates, and then continues on. "Like, I treat you as if you're a nuisance, right? But I always... I always want you next to me. And I know I should just sort my shit out like an adult. But I'm scared."

"Scared?"

"Of what happens. What always happens." Logan sighs in defeat. "I fall in love, and they die. I find my people, and they leave me because I'm such a jackass. There's too much surrounding me that just... ruins everything."

"No, no. I won't leave." You tighten your hand around Logan's, and he, despite wanting to say that you're wounded because of him, believes you. He's so grateful to hear you say it- he had no idea that's what was weighing on him so badly.

He loves you, he knows he does. Logan has never been the best with feelings, but for once, he's glad he was honest.

The first thing Scott sees when he finally makes his way to Logan's room, from all the way across the X-Mansion, is Logan whispering "I'm sorry," and... he thinks (he's not 100% sure), "I love you," to your very forlorn, softly curved-around-him body.

It's a very tender moment, and Scott feels he should leave.

Then Logan presses a firm, shaky kiss on your forehead, and then your lips, and you, with your limited reserve of energy, kiss him back, and then Scott interjects with:

"Hey!...?"

He seems taken aback as you both look at him. "I heard screaming? What is this, some sort of weird cult sacrificial scenario?"

"Logan... had a... nightmare..." You wince, and Scott sees the red on your night gown. "I need... medical attention."

"On it." Scott glances at Logan for permission, and he's currently trying to push all these mushy feelings back into his chest where they belong, and he wants to be there to help you in the clinic, but he's flustered with everything that's happened and he can only hand you to Scott without looking at him.

Scott smirks to himself as he runs you to the clinic of the X-Mansion.

"You and Logan, huh? I knew there was something in that fight today." Scott remarks as you cling to him.

"It's taken an embarrassingly long time for me to figure it out, but yeah." You blush. "Has everyone else...?"

"Jean's been running a bet for the last year." Scott laughs. "She says you both are two sides of the same coin."

You can't help but agree.

[daydaydayrk420]

Oral fixation

Bucky Barnes X male reader

⚠️ cock warming with a mouth, stressed Bucky, bottom Bucky, piss kink⚠️

🚨 Minors and girls do not interact 🚨

______________________________________________________________

Bucky has a strong oral fixation. He hates it. Not a single minute of the day he has nothing in his mouth. Whether it's bubble gum, mints, pencils, or whatever else. Always needs his mouth distracted.

That's where Y/n comes in. Y/N and Bucky have been together long enough that Bucky trusts him with many things. Kinks included.

Y/n lets Bucky use his dick as a stress reliever when his oral fixation is too much for him.

Which is what's happening now. Y/n is sitting in his office unaware of how rushed his boyfriend is to get home. He hears the front door shut and then hurried steps towards his office. He can tell what's Bucky after simply because he's not trying to walk like a ghost as he usually does. So Y/N fixes the pillows and blankets that are always under his desk so they're ready. Then he undoes his pants. Just in time as Bucky walks in.

Bucky is happy when he sees his boyfriend already getting ready. Neither of them speaks as Bucky gets comfortable under the desk in the little nest of pillows and blankets. Y/n already pulled his cock out and goes back to work. Bucky takes his time. He wants to be comfortable he doesn't know how long he'll be here.

Y/n plays some 40s music so they don't sit in an awkward silence that'll only be filled by keyboard keys and mouse clicks. Bucky smiles at the simple gesture.

Finally, Bucky got comfortable and reached for his boyfriend's dick. He licks his lips and slowly takes his soft cock into his mouth. The weight is more than welcome on his tongue as he takes it as far as he can without choking. Y/n runs one hand through Bucky's hair once his head settles on his lap.

They sit like that for a long time. About two hours if anyone kept count. There is a problem though. Y/n needs to pee.

"Buck?" He called out and looked at the peaceful expression his boyfriend had. "Hm?" Bucky only hums not wanting to pull off. "I need you to pull off i gotta go to the bathroom." That only gets Bucky to shake his head and take him deeper. "Bucky I seriously need to pee." At that, Bucky forced his throat to relax and looked at y/n through his lashes. He pulls off far enough so he's sucking mostly the tip and licking the slit. "You want me to pee?" Y/n looks surprised. Bucky nods and takes more of his dick I'm his mouth again. Y/n groans and debates his boyfriend's request.

He needs to go bad. "Alright... Just... Pull off if it's... bad okay?" Y/n said with a shaky voice. Bucky nods and gets ready for his drink.

Y/n groans and lets go. The hot gold liquid pours into Bucky's mouth who swallows it eagerly. Y/n caresses the soldiers hair as he releases himself. Bucky swallows big gulps making sure nothing is spilled. His eyes are closed and his lips are pink and plum. Y/n on the other hand keeps his eyes open and watches how his boyfriend's throat moves every time he swallows.

Bucky swallows the last few drops and pulls off to take deep breaths. "You did so good." Yn praised and caressed his hair. Bucky smiles and leans into the touch. Once he's calmed down he takes Y/N's dick back into his mouth. He rests his head on his thigh and closes his eyes.

Y/N goes back to work and occasionally runs his hand through Bucky's hair. They sit like that until Bucky falls asleep and y/n somehow has to find a way to drag his dead weight to bed.

[aphroditelovesu]

Yandere Monkey D. Luffy Headcanons (General)

''I can't be the King of Pirates without you by my side.'' — Monkey D. Luffy.

❝ 👒 — lady l: It's 4am and I decided to finish this because I was bored lol. Hope you like it! I'm sorry for any mistake and good reading! ❤️💛

❝tw: obsessive behavior, overprotection, mention of death and torture, unhealthy relationships.

❝👒pairing: yandere!monkey d. luffy x gender neutral!reader.

Monkey D. Luffy has a relaxed and even sloppy personality, in a way. He has a carefree air, who cares about few things in his life. He had a goal, a dream, in mind and he would do anything to achieve it. But that dream became irrelevant after he met you.

He insisted a lot on you joining his crew, literally chasing you, harassing you, until you agreed to become a pirate. Luffy jumped for joy when that happened, because it meant you responded to him, as your Captain.

Luffy doesn't like to give you orders and he will rarely do so, unless it is unavoidable, in which case he will try to be as subtle as possible, as if he wasn't ordering you to do something. He is the Straw Hat Captain, but he is not your captain, not in a personal way at least. Furthermore, he wants you to find One Piece together with him.

He is very optimistic and tends to be very kind, trying to see the good in people, but he is a hypocrite when it comes to you. Even if you were the cruelest person in the world, Luffy would defend you tooth and nail. He's not very fair when it comes to you and anything ''wrong'' you do will be ignored by him, maybe even applauded.

People tend to think he's dumb or at least stupid, but that's not true. He may not be good at things that require greater thinking, but Luffy is anything but stupid. He is quite intelligent in his own way and it shows in the way he acts towards you. His intelligence is characterized by his emotional ability, he is very good at reading you and knowing your needs.

Luffy values you more than the rest of his crew. He loves all his friends, but he loves you the most. He would never say it out loud, but he would sacrifice everyone, send them to their deaths, if you so wish. He wants to make you happy and if the death of those who are important to him is the path to that happiness, so be it.

He is not possessive or jealous because Luffy knows he is your favorite. He doesn't mind other people being around you, but he has his limit. If Luffy thinks, even a little, that he is being replaced in your life, he won't accept it. Not without a fight. He's no stranger to bloodshed or killing, so he'll have no problem doing so.

On the other hand, Luffy is extremely overprotective and clingy, to a frightening degree. He dragged you into this life, but he doesn't want you to be an active participant. The idea, the thought, of you getting hurt sends you into a frenzy of anger and worry. He will kill, cut and even torture the person who hurt you and will only be satisfied when he has finished with the person.

Luffy is quite controlling and curious, he wants to know everything about you and he will find out. He doesn't want any secrets to be kept from him and he may feel betrayed if you try to keep something from him. Did he not give you enough confidence? Don't you know he's the only one you can really trust? Luffy will have to do something about your inappropriate behavior.

He likes to spend as much time as he can by your side, take everything he can and stay close to you as much as possible. His favorite moments together are when you are eating or sitting on the bow of the Going Merry. Luffy is very greedy for food and for you, if there are two things he cares about most and values above all else, it's you and food, in that order.

It's not easy to irritate him, but he gets irritated very easily when you're involved. If someone says something bad about you, feel sorry for that person because they won't end well. Luffy would never go so far as to kill over an insult, but he will get upset and he can be a pain in the ass when he is upset about something.

Luffy often behaves like a child, he tends to go to extremes very easily. He goes from 80 to 180 very quickly, his infectious joy turns to fury very quickly when it comes to you. He loves to entertain you with his rubber body, letting you play or making funny faces. He loves to hear you laugh and will do anything to see you laugh.

He hates seeing you cry, hates seeing your beautiful face wet with tears, your lips pursed as you cry. If Hell exists, then for Luffy it's seeing you cry. He will become furious and demand to know the cause of your sadness and once he finds out, he will deal quickly, often bloodily. If it is one of the Mugiwara, however, he will just be more rigid and will not hurt them.

Luffy is selfless, he is willing to sacrifice himself for you, to save you. He is delusional to a fault, willing to kill anyone who crosses you, including his own friends. Whatever past hurt you may, if he has your approval, Luffy will get revenge for you. No one can hurt you, no one can make you cry. He may not be the most dangerous to you, but to others around him, Luffy will have no qualms.

[whateverloomis]

hi! can you please make a virgin reader x experienced billy loomis story? maybe the story can take place in billy's car or at his house when parents are out.

Grrr thank's for this request anon! I've been meaning to write a virgin reader fic. Get ready 😈

Warnings: Virgin reader, AFAB reader (no pronouns used,) public sex, car sex, making out, Billy is kinda sweet here idk, unprotected sex (wrap it up babes, trust me,) || Edited: June'24

Word count: 2.6k

Note: This has some elements inspired by the song "97" by Doja Cat

-

"We're going to the drive in tonight, you wanna tag along?" Tatum asked and you thought about it for a second, not really in the mood to hang out. "Billy's gonna be there, maybe you can tag along with him, hm?" She continued and winked at you. You bit your lower lip at the thought of being alone with him yet again...

You're not sure how it happened exactly, but the word got around that you had a little crush on Billy. With him having broken up with Sidney you didn't want to make things weird between everyone in the group, so you opted for the best option at the time which was keeping it to yourself . That was until suddenly everything changed.

After one of the many hang outs the group had at Machers residence, you decided to stay a little later once everyone left to help Stu clean up, which didn't take very long. When you were ready to leave, as you exited the door you encountered Billy and gasped in surprise and slight fear. He hadn't joined this get together and you were partly thankful, partly upset at his absence.

"Fuck! You scared me!" You said startled before closing the door behind you.

"I'm sorry, didn't mean to scare you." Billy replied, laughing softly at your reaction.

His close proximity made you blush and avoid looking up at him, but it was impossible with the boy searching for your eyes. You had been low-key avoiding him all week. Your crush kept growing and growing every time you saw him and you promised yourself you wouldn't let it get that far. Avoiding him was the only thing that seemed right.

You tried to walk past him after mumbling, "It's okay, i'll see you around," but Billy grabbed your arm and spun you around to face him.

"No, I- You didn't do anything. I'm just feeling kinda off, I guess... In general." You lied and he could see right through you. You knew he did.

"Hey, what's going on? You've been acting weird around me all week." He said and you finally met his eyes. He had doubt written all over his face. Curiosity.

"C'mon, don't be like that. Talk to me." He said and you sighed, trying to stay calm and formulate your next words carefully.

"I've just been a little bit thrown off. There's this guy that I kinda like, but he's unavailable." You played around with your words, trying to explain things without it being too obvious.

"How come?" Billy asked, interested in what you were saying.

"Well, we have a friend in common and I don't want to make things weird and such." You said, feeling good with the way you explained everything.

"Mm, yeah. I get what you mean." He replied and you looked at him, eyes wide in surprise.

"You... Do?" Your voice sounded a bit disappointed, but you kept your strength on display. You couldn't give yourself away.

You moved your lips with his, mimicking his movements. His tongue brushed your lower lip softly and you allowed him to run it against your own. Play with each other. He was a great fucking kisser and you didn't want to stop for one second.

"Yeah, I've been wanting to do something about it but I haven't had the chance... until now." He replied and took a step towards you. You were confused with his actions. He wouldn't possibly mean you, right?

Your question got immediately answered as his hand cupped your face and he pulled you towards him, placing a soft kiss on your lips. Billy's the second person you've ever kissed and it made butterflies flutter in your stomach.

Suddenly you heard the door knob turn and pulled away from Billy, leaving enough distance between you two so that it didn't look like anything was happening.

"YN? I thought you lef- Billyyyy, hey. What are you doing here?" Stu asked his friend trying to fake that he didn't know he would come over. Billy rolled his eyes and glared at Stu before turning to look at you again. "See you around YN." He said and grabbed your hand, squeezing it softly before walking into Stu's house.

You were shocked, happy, confused, soaked between your legs and going insane before leaving Stu's house and going to your house where you couldn't sleep for the night because the excitement consumed you.

You snapped back to reality to what Tatum was saying; "Billy's gonna be there, maybe you can tag along with him, hm?" she continued and winked at you. You bit your lower lip at the thought of being alone with him yet again. You never really told anyone directly about you guys having a mutual crush, or that you've been on the kissing phase for a while but you had a feeling Stu and Tatum knew. I mean c'mon, Stu and Billy were best friends and Tatum was all in for the gossip so I'm sure she got the info out of Stu at some point.

After that night, you guys made out everywhere; your house, his house, at the park, behind the college campus, in empty class rooms, you name it. However, it never went further than that, until that night... The drive in night...

That left Randy and Sidney. They were kinda oblivious to the whole thing, especially Randy. He was too busy trying to win Sidney's heart when she clearly wasn't interested. Poor guy.

"Okay, fine. Since I'm not gonna be driving." -- "Who's not gonna be driving?" Billy joined the conversation with Stu and Randy by his side. "Me, because I'm going with you to the drive in according to Tatum." you answered. Stu smirked at you and then at Billy who glared at him then smiled at you softly. A silent agreement.

"Awwhh fuck! Everyone has a date but me?!" Randy whined and you widened your eyes. Date.

"We're just friends, Randy. Chill." Billy answered and gave you a reassuring look after his words. He didn't want to hurt you, and you understood.

"Good! So I can join you then?" Randy said and looked at you as if he could convince you instead of Billy, but of course that wasn't going to work. You really wanted to be alone with Billy at the drive in and see where the night took you guys, Randy wasn't going to ruin that for you.

"I uh... Y'know? I have a friend who's single and cute! I can set you up." You responded and winked at him. His desperate self accepted right away and you exhaled a breath you didn't even know you were holding.

"Fuck yeah! It's set, see you guys at 8pm!" Stu practically shouted before picking Tatum up over his shoulders and walking away.

•

Billy picked you up in his dads red colored 97' Benz. You didn't care if it wasn't his car, he looked hot as fuck in it. It was slick, the red looked intense with how polished and shiny the car was, and you were ready for a long night inside of it.

You had been fantasizing about that night since the invitation. You wanted to go a bit further than just kissing with Billy. Make a bold move or something. You didn't have any experience unlike him but you felt so ready and needy to feel more of him. To feel the unknown. However, you couldn't deny that you did feel scared to some degree. You knew nothing when it came to sex and you didn't want to do anything stupid.

At the drive in, you met with the rest of the group at the entrance and hung out for a while, drinking and sharing candy before the movie started. Then you all chose hidden spots to park, like most people did.

You didn't even know what the movie was about, just that it was some kind of cheap slasher. Billy and you made small talk for the first few minutes of the movie while sharing sweets with each other. The tension between you grew by the minute and you were starting to get nervous. You didn't know if you should've made a first move or something. It's not like you guys hadn't done anything before, but that moment felt different.

"Is that the only one left?" You asked him, frowning as he picked up a small chocolate bar from the assorted candy you bought.

"You wanna share it?" Billy asked, laughing at your little frown. He found it adorable.

You nodded and watched as he unwrapped it, waiting for him to split the candy, but instead he bit one of the ends and held it there. Billy cupped your face and pulled you towards his, poking your bottom lip with the chocolate and you instantly knew what he was asking you to do. You bit the other end of the bar and you guys split it in half, your lips meeting in the end. You gave each other one lingering kiss before parting and savoring the chocolate. You bit your lip and blushed at what had happened. It was too hot for you to handle and you were already feeling yourself getting wet between your legs.

"I didn't realize that was my favorite chocolate until now." Billy said and you giggled at his words. He was so freaking smooth it drove you insane, so you leaned in and kissed him again, deepening it and using your tongue to play around with his. You ran your hands through his hair and pulled it slightly which made him release the quietest moan. You smiled into the kiss and moved across the car dash to sit on his lap, on the drivers seat.

You immediately felt his hard on against your core and started to grind against it slowly. It was an instinctual move from your part. Billy placed his hands on your hips and made you grind against him a bit faster. His breathing picked up and you released little moans that echoed around the car.

Billy's hands traveled up your thigh and under your skirt. He squeezed the flesh and it sent goosebumps all over your body. He hooked his thumbs under your thong (bold choice of underwear that day,) and started to play with the fabric, testing the waters. When his fingers traveled close to your core you tensed up and stopped kissing him.

"Mm, sorry-" -- "Are you okay?" Billy asked immediately, concern evident in his words.

"Yeah, I just... I've never really... Gone further than making out." You replied, looking away from him, ashamed.

"Hey, it's okay. We can stop if y-" -- "No! No, I don't want to stop... You just..." You paused and ran your hand through his hair, "...have so much experience and I-" -- "It's okay baby, there's nothing wrong with that... Just means I can make you feel really good."

Baby.

You bit your lip and he smirked at you before tapping your thigh. "Get back in your seat, we're getting out of here." He said and you did what he said, no questions asked.

Billy pulled out of the drive in with the headlights off to not bother anyone, but mainly so you guys didn't get caught.

As Billy drove away from the place, he opened the windows and sun roof. The stars were on full display as well as the moon. You rested your arm on the door, admiring the scenery and feeling wildly content as well as a bit reckless. You were ready to risk it all that night with Billy.

•

Billy and you drove into a secluded area with a perfect view of a lake and the beautiful night sky. There were a few other cars parked in the area but you could barely see them, much less anyone inside them.

Once you guys were parked, Billy looked at you and patted his lap, smirking at you when you complied in sitting on him again. You didn't waste time and kissed him again, this time hungrier than ever. Billy grabbed your ass and moved you against his already hard cock, making you grind against him like you were before. You felt him grow more beneath you and moaned at the feeling. Pawing and pulling at his hair again you both made little noises that filled the quietness of the car.

"Fuck... We're taking this outside." Billy whispered and opened the door, walking out with your legs wrapped around his torso and arms around his neck. He placed you on the hood of the Benz, the moon light visible on the shiny hood of the car. He kneeled down and kissed up your sensitive thighs. You bit your lip to muffle any noise that could've come out of you but it was nearly impossible. Once Billy reached your core, he took your thong off with his teeth and tossed them God know's where in the woods.

"You're soaked and I haven't even touched you yet" He said and chuckled before licking a stripe up your folds. You threw your head back at the sensation. Billy licked and sucked your cunt like it was his last meal. He moaned against your core and it sent vibrations up your spine. Flicking and sucking on your clit repeatedly and softly you swore you were gonna pass out from the pleasure. Once it built up, you felt a need you hadn't felt before. You needed something inside you.

Your cunt throbbed and ached to have something fucking it, anything, so you grabbed Billy's left hand and moved it towards your center, and he knew exactly what you wanted. He ran his ring and middle finger along your slit and slowly dipped them in all while he was licking and sucking your clit. Finally, he inserted his fingers all the way in your cunt and started to finger fuck you slowly. All the myths you had heard weren't true, you definitely felt a stretch but it was so good. The feeling of getting filled up and getting your g spot stimulated felt amazing, especially while he was working on your clit.

"Yes! Yes, fuck... Fuck me, please Billy, please..." You started to beg. You needed more, wanted to feel him fuck you so desperately.

Billy smirked at your plea and pulled his fingers out of you, licking them clean after. "You taste so fucking good." He said and turned you around on the hood of the car. You heard him unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants quickly before positioning you to align his throbbing cock with your center.

"Wait!" You said and looked back at him. He looked at you knowingly. "I'll pull out, I promise. It feels better this way." You didn't have the energy to fight him on the matter, you just wanted to get fucked, so you gave in.

Billy started to slide in slowly, allowing you to get used to the feel and stretch. You threw your head back in pleasure as you felt every inch of him fill you up. He felt big and you hugged his cock perfectly.

"You feel so good." He said and started moving inside you. "So. Fucking. Good." His thrusts divided his words. You couldn't say anything coherent at that point, you were moaning and whining. Digging your nails in the hood of the car which was probably going to leave marks but neither of you cared.

Billy turned you around to face him and you wrapped your legs around him. He held your thighs to keep you against the hood while he pounded into you. You pulled his hair and bit his shoulder to keep yourself quiet, and he groaned at the feeling. He likes pain?

"I'm not gonna cum until you do." He whispered in your ear and started to rub your clit while he fucked you raw. The pleasure increased immensely at the stimulation and you were surprisingly closer than you thought. The build up felt intense. Both stimulations combined and coursed through your body. You couldn't help but move against him. Feeling him impossibly deep inside you, that's when you came around his cock. You didn't care to be quiet at that point so you moaned and panted like a wild animal. Billy thrusted a few more times before pulling out and cuming on your thigh.

You both panted as you rested your forehead against his.

"That was-" -- "Amazing." He interrupted you and you let out a breathy laugh before looking at him, then looked around.

"So, who's cleaning this up?" You asked, half joking half serious. Billy laughed and looked up in defeat. "We'll figure it out."

[poetglasses]

In Defense of Jacks in ACFTL

I do have spoilers, so this is your warning not to venture further if you haven't finished reading.

First off, I love how the story was told and how it ended. Could we have gotten more of the other characters? Yes. Did we really need to? Maybe, but I certainly didn't mind the absence. I didn't think we needed to address every character that we've met. We saw Castor and Lala, and I was happy about it, but I was strictly here for Evajacks story, and that's what I got.

I think Eva and Jacks had character development in this novel.

Eva isn't as trusting and hopeful as she was in the previous two books, and I was happy about it! Girl was getting murder attempted on her, and her husband is a narcissistic, manipulative psychopath. The only people she could trust were 1) being kept away from her or 2) avoiding her because they thought they were doing the best thing for her if they did so *cough* jacks

Jacks watched the girl he loved die! He blamed himself for what happened to Eva, and then continued staying away because he felt guilty and thought he was keeping her safe in doing so. He didn't know Apollo took Eva's memories away. He was too busy making sure Castor didn't go within 10 feet of Eva because Castor did attack Jacks after he went back in time to save her! He was still around Eva, he was just hiding in the shadows or out in the balcony peering through the windows. He genuinely thought Apollo was the better choice for Eva because at least Apollo hadn't done anything to her (as far as he knew).

Jacks apologized to her under the phoenix tree, saying that when he went back in time, he thought the stones would have taken something from him, not Eva, or are we all ignoring that because of that beautiful love confession Eva gave? He wanted our girl to live! When Eva met Castor in the Cursed Forest, Jacks literally put a knife through his best friend's chest in fear of having a repeat of the first timeline! Castor wasn't even doing anything, he was just trying to have a conversation with her.

Jacks was the tortured lover we all knew him to be. He wasn't Jacks, Prince of Hearts, with a trail of deadly kisses in search of true love in this novel. He was Jacks of the Hollow, a man who loved his girl so much he wanted her to live instead of dying at his kiss. We all know how badly Eva wanted to kiss him, and we all know Jacks can hear her thoughts. Can we blame him for staying away? He literally said that if she died again, he could not bring her back. The idea of that was terrifying to him. He already used the stones, and going to Honora would have the possibility of turning her into a vampire, maybe worse.

Jacks felt different in this novel because he finally admitted how much he loves Eva. We've seen him do so many things for her throughout the series. Was he holding back in the other two books? I'd argue not really, but he certainly wasn't going to let her be with him. He didn't want to admit he was in love with her. Dude literally held her like a grudge in the first novel, a secret in the second novel, and then a promise in the third. The hints were there for us. He would literally do anything for her. He just didn't want to admit to himself he loved her because if he allowed himself to there was the possibility that she could die.

Does Eva die in this book? No, thank god. But don't act like you read their kiss scene and didn't fucking break a little when Jacks went "No! Not again".

[threepandas]

Like A Dangerous Cat: Yandere!Aizawa

See, here's the thing. (And don't get me wrong, to each their own.) I come across Yandere!Aizawa fics time and again, that forget his crucial truth. This man? THIS man... is fuckin EXHAUSTED.

No sexy body or "ooooh~ IMPRISON ME sempai~♡" energy is gonna motivate him enough to get out of his damn sleeping bag. No today, not tomorrow. Not EVER. He's best friends with Nemuri, for god's sake. He's seen finer tits for far less effort.

And HURTING you? Why would he do THAT? You got something to confess? He has more then a few cops on speed dial. He WILL if he must... but for your sake. Do Not Make Him Do That.

It's his napping time.

He gets that so, SO fucking rarely.

But! Does this mean he can not become a Yandere? Are we cursed to a hot hobo-daddy-less Yandere-free world?

The FUCK it does!

He has SO much love to give. And is that not the CORE of the Yandere? The love? The OBSESSION. Hey, real quick, how much of his personality has he completely reshaped around the hole Oboro left in his life? How far do you think he would GO for Mic? What do you think he would DO?

The thing is? He's not the sort of Yandere that would ever hurt or humiliate his Darling. Oh no, he'd sooner die. Take you all with him. No...

No he's a HERO.

He's gonna PROTECT them. Make them HAPPY. Bask in the light of it, like a cat on a sunbeam. And? HOW he protects them? What he needs to DO, to make sure everything is SAFE? That their dreams come true and their path is full of nothing but rose petal n light? Well... they don't need to know about THAT do they?

That's his JOB, isn't it?

To be a HERO. To PROTECT. Keep watch, just in case.

And? He is the sort of Yandere you'll NEVER notice. Others will. They'll never get the chance to WARN you, but they'll notice. Or, they'll already be so wrapped up in his madness, that it all feels normal.

You'll just... start finding your life easier, all of a sudden. Little things will start going your way. Then bigger and bigger. That creep who kept cat calling you? Finally stopped! The rumored pervert around the neighborhood? Caught! Oh! Look! You didn't even KNOW about this sale!

Wonder how the ad even GOT to you...

Still, you'll brush it off. Pet some cats. Wonder why all the guys who used to hit on you STOPPED. Figure they were messing with you. Oh, hey! Promotion! You buy nicer coffee for the weird hobo looking Hero that uses your balcony as a patrol rest stop.

You DID offer.

Even set up a lil coffee maker out there. Electric kettle. A lockable snack box n stuff. You figured he wouldn't trust food left to the open air. It's suspicious, right? He knocked on your sliding door and asked about it. You guys had a conversation and everything. Was pretty cool.

And? Slowly? He'll pull you in. Vague thank you notes becoming polite but generic "how are you"s. Which of course meanders in to questions about things you mention. Longer responses from you. More and more notes. Until? Oh, he just HAPPENS to be early today...

Slowly, carefully, dragging you into his friend group. Letting Mic do the heavy social lifting. Letting Nemuri do the loud girls nights. Letting you roam free, happy and oblivious. Careful as he peppers in the benefits of working for UA. Good pay, excellent protection, unmatchable care package...

Ah, but he's rambling, you were mentioning your unreasonable boss?

And of course, his friends will tease. He has a "crush". That's one word for what he feels. They suggest dates and hookups. It sounds awful. He has an almost comically low sex drive. You would too, with working hours like his. WOULD he though?

The second you showed interest. In anyway you'd have him. Like it's his life's MISSION to get you off. He'd do RESEARCH. Deep dives. Your computer? Hacked. Your search history? Gone through with a fine tooth comb. He found your smut stash WEEKS ago. Has copies of every title, been going through them like he's studying for a final.

He's been friends with Nemuri for YEARS. Knows things youve never even considered. If not from HER, then from her 18+ Hero work friends. They're loud. He's vaguely annoyed that it actually HAS become useful knowledge.

And? The thought of having you completely, taking you apart, holding you, boneless and soft and warm against him? Makes feels like some horny teenager, for how quick that does it for him. He has FANTASIES of what he would do to you, if he actually had enough time of to be well rested.

Wants to pamper you. Wants to limp, bruised and sore, to your apartment, so you'll WORRY. Want to pamper HIM. Want to focus on him. Pay attention to him. Be soft and careful and gentle with him. Your poor wounded hero...

Ah, he bets he could convince you to let him sleep, propped up in your arms.

It'd be so WARM.

In the meantime? He'll slowly get you used to him. Use Mic to do it. That's right, every hour is cuddle hour. It's good for mental health and hormonal regulation. Perfectly logical, really, to get some casual touch from trusted friends, right? Honestly, there's nothing to see here. He's harmless. Of course he can help braid your hair. Sure you can lean against him. Cold? Let's share a sleeping bag.

He's harmless.

Like a grumpy cat.

A big, dangerous cat.

[lo1k-diamonds]

SX Seoul Series | Jimin Entry 💜 Like Crazy

GIF by cordiallyfuturedwight

PAIRING: Jimin x Reader (You can also read it on AO3)

SUMMARY: You let your desires run wild and things got too far while figuring out the choreography for Jimin's next single. You thought it was best to pretend it never happened, but he decided to chase you, hoping to set things right.

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

GENRE: strangers to lovers, smut, soft but filthy (?)

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: pwp (porn w/ plot really), mentions of drinking, misunderstandings, unprotected sex (wrap it up), semi-public sex, Jimin loses control and I find that endearing, light sub/dom with the reader being the dom, oral (f), hand job, edging, playing with cum, squirting, riding, breast worship & play, multiple orgasms, praise kink

A.N. 2024 started with the thoughts that inspired this fic, and writing it, I don't know. Jimin matched this energy perfectly, I can't explain it. Hopefully, you'll agree 💜

Masterlist | Masterpost | Scroll my stories on Tumblr | Schedule and WIPs

Jimin went quickly up the stairs while lowering his head under the drizzle. He ignored the people near the railing lining up, only glancing to confirm the presence of the lighted ice-blue stripes on the wall: SX.

He raised his head in time to face the bouncer, who recognized him and let him in immediately, but only relaxed fully once he was in the club’s lobby. There he shook the traces of rain off his black leather jacket before running his hands a couple of times through his hair, smoothing and rippling the dark strands simultaneously.

People laughing and chatting went around him to enter the club proper and he glanced but kept his head low. He knew the club’s owner and knew he tried to keep that club room on the exclusive side — to the entertainment industry — but to Jimin, that was a double-edged sword. On one side, that meant he was sure to find you there, on the other he risked being recognized by what were essentially colleagues and friends. 

He released a breath to soothe himself and brushed his hair one last time before going in. Not that it mattered, he concluded, as the flashing lights and loud music made his eyes blink and bones vibrate. He was free to go to a club whenever he wanted, regardless of who spotted him. What mattered was to find you.

His first searches in between the crowd were unsuccessful, so he neared the bar and asked for a drink. As he waited, he instantly turned to try his luck again only for the owner himself to recognize him and chat him up.

Jimin was polite, talking easily about how busy he was working on his solo work that would be out soon.

“The vibe kind of reminds me of this place,” he offered with a smile, taking the martini to his lips after swirling the twist of lemon peel inside.

The conversation didn’t last long and when the owner had to give his attention elsewhere, Jimin was finally free to let his thoughts overrun him. He needed to find you, and fast.

He knew you’d be there, he heard you scheduling it with the other dancers earlier. Earlier—

He almost choked thinking about it, the lights making him dizzy for a moment as he put the glass down on the bar counter.

What was he doing? Chasing you like that? Maybe he was crazy. What would that accomplish? What if you would just mock him? For—

Oh shit, his stomach twisted. What if you had already told everyone?

Damn it, he shouldn’t have let it play out like that. But he was genuinely powerless then, so out of it he only remembered being relaxed and molded to the hardwood floor beneath him.

“Good job,” you had told him in a velvety tone, lips hovering above his just after a sensual quiet laugh had snapped him away from his shock.

Were you mocking him then? No, he didn’t think so. But he was getting out of a high, so could he trust his judgment? And in a second you were no longer straddling him, but gone. He had sat up as quickly as he could only to see the door closing behind you, blocking him from calling your name. And then he glanced down at his crotch only to be confronted with—

He snapped his head back; that red smudge at the corner of his eye, was that you?! He was turning to the dance floor with his drink to drown his sorrows when he thought he saw you entering the room, and he was right! You were with friends, laughing and having fun, and his guts instantly twisted like he had to barf.

But he took deep breaths and calmed down. He knew you — you weren’t like that. He had to trust that. He glanced at you again, at your genuine smile, and wondered what your eyes would tell him if he faced you. Were you proud? Amused? Indifferent?

He forced himself to face the bar and drank the rest of the martini in one go before facing himself in the mirror behind the displayed bottles. This was his life, he was in control of it. He was there for a reason and he was going to do it.

He went straight for you, something similar to a tunnel narrowing his vision. His heart was racing deafeningly inside his chest, to the point he wondered where the music had gone, and then he touched your shoulder.

You turned around and your eyes widened right before you chucked and he thought his heart stopped.

“I thought you had enough dancing for today,” you asked cheekily after a small bow of your head, impermeable to his paleness and breathlessness.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

His voice was quiet and you had the distinct impression he was hiding, which instantly set your nerves on high alert. “Of course. What is it?”

He hesitated, and at that instant, you knew everything was fucked. “It’s… it’s private. I’d prefer it if we go somewhere quiet.”

Your stomach fell to the floor, but you still nodded. What else could you do? He was still the artist hiring you.

He waved at you to follow him and you did, instantly chastising yourself for being nonchalant about everything. But what else could you do? Jimin was a fucking star, you doubted any of it mattered. He’d play it cool and—

He stopped by the bar to speak to a bald guy you had the impression was the bar owner, but you didn’t listen. Jimin wanted to talk in private, and after what had happened, you could only think of one thing he wanted to say.

Of course, he would fire you. He was so keen on doing it, that once he spotted you, he couldn’t let it go or wait for Monday. And of course he wouldn’t, you should have known. You had totally lost face after going overboard like that.

The bald guy spoke with another bartender before waving at Jimin to follow him, to which Jimin glanced at you before going after him. There was a door in the mirror wall beside the bar and it led to a corridor. The house music was halved there already but you didn’t pay attention to the owner’s indications; you only followed Jimin, even after the bar door closed behind you.

It wasn’t that Jimin had to play it cool or that you expected him to because he was a star, you argued in your thoughts. Not even because you thought that happened to him all the time or anything like that, just—

You heaved a deep breath, settling things with yourself — it was just tension. Tension was meaningless to someone like him, that was all. That was what you thought, and that wasn’t a crime. The arguable crime was what you did before.

Maybe you shouldn’t have done it, you concluded, following after Jimin in silence. But who were you kidding, you absolutely should not have. You would soon have a brilliant ten-year career as a dance coordinator. Risking it in the spur of the moment was possibly the dumbest shit you had ever done. The problem was that it never felt like you were risking anything.

You were experimenting with the choreography. During the second verse of the song, a parallelism should occur where a female dancer and Jimin should mirror each other. After a full day of going over the chorus choreography with him alone, as the choreographer, it was your job to come up with ideas but he effortlessly suggested working on them with you. Jimin was always like that, wanting to be involved in his choreos, and you didn’t mind it at all. Granted you were both exhausted, and you’d admit he was…

You glanced at him. He always made you flutter in various ways, and dancing with him or watching him dance was no different. But you could stay professional; you had worked together before, and there was never an issue.

But today you were experimenting with potential dance moves for that verse and you suggested lying down. He was curious about it and asked you to explain, and you told him, “Like a worm dance move, but one over the other. Let me show you, lay down.”

He lay on the dance room floor and you placed yourself with your sneakers next to his hips. Once he gave you the go-ahead, you bent forward with your hands ready to catch you on either side of his head and let your body fall over him, curving from your chest to your stomach, hips, and knees before your feet touched the ground, and you got up. You couldn’t forget his expression as you did it: his cheeks gained color, his parted lips revealed his surprise, and as your face hovered over him, his glistening stunned eyes were on you before lowering to what you hoped was a good view, aka, your cleavage.

“What do you think?” You had asked.

“Again,” was all he had said.

So you did it many times more, trying to connect from the previous step in the choreography and then trying to figure out where to go from there — if you should get up on your feet or just stay on your knees or maybe something else.

“Then we can find a way of… getting you up again,” you were winded as you quite simply stayed seated on him. You wouldn’t have normally but you were exhausted, so you didn’t move, with your core dangerously close to his. So close that you instantly thought, Not that we need to, you’re already up.

And the thought should have scared you, but as you both recovered your breaths, you just stayed put, facing each other. His gray sweatpants left nothing to the imagination from where you were sitting and your leggings only helped. It was thoughtless of you to move an inch only to feel him a bit better, and you were startled into freezing when his dark eyes snapped open. Yet he said nothing, did nothing but look at you, the both of you sweating and still panting. Until his hands brushed your hips and the scales tipped. He squeezed ever so slightly, and you let yourself fall.

Jimin opened the last door at the end of the halfway and you followed him inside. When he closed the door behind you, the music became barely audible and you could hear yourself think. And panic. And make the right choice like the professional you were.

“I understand,” you started, turning to him once you reached the desk on the opposite side of the room. You were in an office, and as small as it was, at least you had distance between you. “You don’t have to worry about it. I’ll give my resignation letter tomorrow.”

“What?” He gaped, blinking his normally sweet eyes, “Why?”

Your eyebrows twitched, “What do you mean, why? For—” Your breath got caught up in your throat and you suddenly were at a loss. How could you say it? You sucked in a breath, “For acting inappropriately.”

His eyebrows pinched ever so slightly and you thought that speaking ahead could at least save your career.

“I’m sorry if I harmed you somehow. That was not my intention. I— I got carried away.”

You wondered if you misstepped by admitting that much, but instantly your eyes dropped to his lips and the memory flooded you. They were incredibly soft, as was his tongue, playful in a delicious kiss that had you forgetting everything aside from how hard he was beneath you.

You forced yourself to look down and bow respectfully, “Please don’t worry about—”

“You didn’t finish.”

You raised your head, “What?”

“You didn’t finish.”

You straightened back up and blinked. You gave it time, but you had nothing. What was he talking about?

Oh, right.

“The choreography? You have a lot of it already,” you smiled pacifyingly. “I’m certain you can get someone to fill in the gaps.”

“No,” he stepped forward. “You.”

You blinked, drawing a blank again. “Me? I don’t understand.”

“You—” He hesitated for only a second, “You didn’t come.”

Your eyebrows jumped in surprise, but then you pursed your lips, “So?”

“So,” he took a step forward. “You left before I could do something about it.”

You could almost hear the click as you thought you had caught on to him, “You mean you want to finish what we started? Not fire me?”

His expression only softened as he nodded, and yet for you, it was even more confusing.

“Really?” You asked, blinking in surprise.

“Is there something wrong with that?”

“No!” You almost shouted as he tilted his head, so you reeled it back in quickly, “No, definitely not, I just—” He stayed quiet as you struggled for words until you just sighed, saying the first thing that came to mind, “I just didn’t think you’d want that.”

“Why not?”

The way he rolled his shoulders reminded you of the tension building between you. You were sort of blind to it before, as you had been worried about your future for a moment there, but now you could feel it lacing around your neck again. He was right there like a pretty picture, just waiting for you to answer or do something, leaving you space to decide whatever, and yet you were still wary of making the wrong decision.

“Because… That’s not very professional,” you settle with, deciding to still be cautious about it.

But he just chuckled, “I think we’re past worrying about that. Or not?”

Your mouth moved without filter, “If you want us to be, then we are.”

His smile potentially rewired your brain. Even as he looked down and seemed to consider something, all you could do was wonder if this was real. Jimin was really telling you not to worry about being professional because he wanted to finish what you started at the dance studio and holy shit, you were getting hot.

“I…” He started, and you attuned instantly. “I’d like it if we kept it between us.”

“Deal.”

He could see you relaxing in a way, and now he was certain that your posture had changed. Just like before at the dance studio, your shoulders were straight, your posture intent, ready to move. He didn’t have to hide his eyes tracing your curves because you were doing the same to him. And it burned. Usually, he preferred to have clothes on; he was never the most confident about his body. But with you, it felt different. Perhaps because of before but… With you, the clothes were in the way.

He took a deep breath and pulled on the collar of his leather jacket as it was gluing to his skin, “I’m not sure what this means but…” He looked back at you with darkening eyes. “I don’t want to think right now.”

You instantly nodded in agreement, then shook your head the next second, “Yes, no thinking. I just want to know one thing,” you started, mind falling deeper into that rabbit hole. He nodded. “How did you plan on finishing me off?”

Your heart was drumming fast, but that was it. His lips parted in a bit of shock, but you didn’t take it back. He could back out, but if he wanted it, then you were in and this was what it meant. You wanted to know how he planned on continuing this partially because you wanted to know if you were on the same page, but also to know—

“Eating,” he breathed, and your eyebrows jumped. He must have noticed your eagerness because he licked his lips as a hand ran through his hair, “Eating you out. Burying my face in—”

His breath caught and you couldn’t help yourself; you shook your head almost anxiously, “Say it. Come on, please,” you were asking and it was enticing. “Say it for me.”

His reaction was to rub his face in embarrassment, “I can't believe I'm saying this to you.”

“Why?” You almost pouted, “I want to hear it.”

“Yes, but…” he didn’t seem to know how to face you or answer until he took a breath to renew his courage. “Talking… is hard. I should finish you first.”

He took a step forward but you raised your hands with a light frown, “Wait. Talking is important. This is not a race.”

“No, of course not. And yes, I’m not saying we shouldn’t talk, it’s just—” You had lowered your hands and his discomfort was abundantly clear, making you wonder what was going on. He heaved a deep breath before confessing, “I feel like I failed.”

For a second, you thought this was a terrible idea. If he wanted to be with you because of a semblance of hurt ego or pride, then you were not interested. But then… You knew Jimin, you had worked together before. He was a perfectionist but he wouldn’t come this far just for that.

So you allowed yourself to dig deeper, and stepped closer to him, “Because you came?”

“I couldn't control it. I tried,” he was apologetic and you closed the distance between you two.

“I saw it,” you acknowledged, then smiled. “You looked so cute trying, groaning a no even when your orgasm overcame you.”

He looked down and you saw that same embarrassment that now you were starting to gain a distaste for. Because that was nothing to be embarrassed about. Hell, you loved that you drove him that insane just by straddling and kissing him. Just thinking of the frenzy that had you dry-humping him and kissing him like he was the air you needed had your temperature rising. He had no way of knowing how close you had been nor how it filled you with pride when he twitched inside his pants and groaned into your kiss. At that moment, you had thought that playing with him would have been the best thing ever. Then you realized who you were doing that with and thought that leaving was the best course of action.

Well, you weren’t leaving this time.

You had a better idea. Your lips curved as you got your jacket off, knowing the deep cleavage on that red dress could convince him to look back up.

“Maybe you were too turned on,” you sighed after throwing the jacket over a nearby chair. You smirked at his eyes on you and casually adjusted the bra stripes, making your breasts bounce. “Wouldn’t blame you,” you shrugged, tone brazen as you relaxed. “It could be,” you continued, your hands forming a v down your stomach to your mound. “That this pussy is just magical.”

He couldn’t hold back his chuckle and you grinned, even as he shook his head with color on his cheeks.

“Isn't that why you thought of eating it?”

“I think it's your hips,” he voiced, endlessly more at ease. You could hear it and see it. “The way you move… the way you dance has always made me imagine, but today the way you moved to—” Your look was intense but you knew he could take it. “—to grind on me just—”

“Got you bursting despite your best efforts?” Your tone was almost condescending and to your surprise, he simply nodded.

“I'm sorry I couldn't wait for you.”

And that did it for you. “Don't be sorry, you're here now.” You passed by him and happily found a key on the door that you turned. You glanced at him but he only ever looked at you, never losing sight, so your lips curved, “I'd say this is way better.”

He didn’t oppose you in any way as you got around him to reach the desk again, only this time you sat on it. You spread your legs and his tongue peeked between his lips.

You smirked, “Come here.” He moved but his eyes were restless; indecisive on where to focus first. Right before he could reach you, you added, “Kiss me first.”

Still, as he got in between your legs, first he tentatively traced your legs up to your knees and hips with the back of his fingers. Gently but in awe, holding his breath to scout your reaction. You smiled at him and opened your arms and your welcome had him melting forward with his eyes set on your lips.

You closed the distance between you so your mouths could meet, squeezing your knees to his hips so he knew not to move away. While your arms wrapped around his neck relaxedly, you moved your lips at your tempo, knowing that he’d follow. You imposed a slow rhythm, mouths opening millimeter by millimeter to allow for your breaths to mix progressively, tastes to be shared patiently, and tongues to finally touch in sensual flicks that had him groaning mutely.

You were doing it again, he thought, needing to hold your waist and press himself closer to make sure you wouldn’t leave. Just like before, he trusted you without a thought and your kiss was enough to dazzle him, to make him want to follow the rails you set out for him if only because it was you. He wanted it all. If he sucked a deeper breath, it was to breathe you in. If he chased your tongue, it was because he wanted more of what you were giving. If he pressed your waist, it was because he needed to be grounded. Because he was already over the moon, sweating under those stupid layers of clothes, painfully hard and away from that magical pussy of yours, and lost. So lost if you wouldn’t show him the way.

He didn’t know if you realized it, but he trusted your guidance and you didn’t disappoint. You hugged him closer, pressing your chest to him and giving him space to join your cores. Even through his pants, you could feel his bulge, and you wanted it. You opened your eyes during your kiss and all that you could see was absolute relaxation and vulnerability on those sweet lines of his, so you took the next step. 

First, you wrapped your legs around him, crossing them over his perky ass. Then you pressed him closer, right before stretching your legs, the movement making him go back, right before you pressed again to draw him close. It created a push-and-pull move that had him grazing against your center ever so slightly, making you flutter around nothing just at the suggestion. And you could tell he appreciated it, if only by the way he sighed and his lips became lax with the distraction. You gripped his hair by the back of his neck and he went with it, letting you split your mouths while your lower body dance continued.

His eyes opened a slit to face you and that view was fatal. He was a fucking gorgeous man, with his kiss-bruised lips and mute groans escaping them all while dark eyes invited you to have your way. And you would because at that point you wanted little more than to play with him all the way.

It was stronger than you; a moment of that view, of his bulge making your imagination fly, and you couldn’t stop yourself. In a matter of seconds, your free hand was forcing its way inside his pants, not even bothering to unbutton them, just squeezing in between and passing every layer of clothing until you gripped his hard cock.

He groaned with lips parting further, surprised with your boldness, but not dissatisfied with it. Quite on the contrary, judging by his precome on your hand. His fingers gripped your waist harder but he stayed exactly put, letting you squeeze the head tightly and jerk him as much as you could with the clothes’ constraints.

But you liked them on. Your tongue peeked between your lips as you took in that full image. Park Jimin still had his black leather jacket on but was covering your fist in precome, groaning with pleasure on an expression you didn’t guess he let many others see. No one would know how weak you left him even if they barged into the room right now, and you instantly knew no one else could do that to him. You could read it in his eyes — he was taken, he was yours, and he wanted you to have him. And if on any other day, you could have had fun just teasing and testing his limits, that would have to wait for now. Tonight you wanted to be with him.

So you let go of his hair and jumped a bit on your ass while you pulled the hem of your dress up the curve of your hips. His eyes didn’t miss anything, not your round hips being revealed and surely not your chest bouncing. Just by the way he looked at you, you knew he was your kind of guy, but not yet. You had that office at the back of a club, after all, you were not going to make it a quickie.

“Pull your clothes down.”

He blinked questioningly and you smiled and nodded. As he unbuttoned his pants and forced them and his underwear down his hips as best he could, you could only guess what all of that was doing to him. Your teases, your generous cleavage glistening under the office lights, your raised skirt suggesting what could come next, and finally, your request laced in a low lustful tone. His obedience was rewarded with wider movements of your fist up and down his shaft, which would have all your attention if his cheeks weren’t flushed. Fuck, you wanted to bring him to his knees crying with bliss, show him he was the key to heaven itself and you were the gatekeeper.

But not yet.

Your firm hand around his cock pulled him closer as you sat on the edge of the desk and spread your legs. He almost fell over you, supporting himself on the table to stay at bay only to waver on his knees. Your laced panties were red, just like your dress, and contrasted with his pink engorged tip.

“Look,” you called to him, eyes fixed on the view of his cock head rubbing on your clothed clit. “You have such a pretty cock.”

His groan was instant, bringing more fire to his cheeks if that was possible. You were looking at him now, seeing how tense he was, how he was gripping the desk on either side of you, how he was trying not to buck his hips to help you, but most importantly, how beneath the embarrassment and desire, he was proud. You grinned wickedly when you realized this, thoughts running wild as you licked your lips.

“Is it good?” You asked, wanting to make sure he wasn’t getting lost too soon.

And he nodded, trying to suck in a ragged breath, “I said I’d eat you.”

His hoarse voice had you sinking your teeth in your bottom lip, and after a moment of consideration, you let him go. Your hand was wet around your thumb and pointer where his precome had found purchase, and you brought it up. He had staggered with the loss of your hand, deciding to wait for your signal before getting on his knees to eat you, when he almost choked. Your tongue was out, savoring him off your hand slowly as your eyes stayed on him, and he felt a new wave of heat hit his back. He was melting, hanging on a breath and on your opinion because you were surely measuring up his taste before you gave your go-ahead.

Your lips twitched before you gave a last lick up your thumb, and he finally breathed. Yet he only unfroze when you leaned back on the desk and uttered what resembled a challenge, “Go on.”

His knees hit the floor at super speed, followed only by his starving eyes and his fingers looking to hook your panties. You only twitched your eyebrows when he glanced up in confirmation but then he was free to pull them down your legs. The wet spot on the outer side was obvious, it was his doing, but as the fabric passed your knees, the white and translucent arousal pooling on the inner side had him salivating.

You could see in his focused expression that he wasn’t taking things lightly, but you considered he might have been intimidated. You were wrong. His eyes were fixed on his goal and the first thing he did was bury his face right at your center, rubbing it in and taking a deep breath as if he had finally come home. It was enough to make you throb, but it was his hunger that did you in. 

He was starving; the use of the word eating had not been lost on him. His mouth was everywhere in the beginning, followed by his tongue collecting all of your dripping wetness as if it was an oasis in a desert, and then he settled. He took a deep breath with a whiny groan that you doubted had been voluntary and focused on lapping at your sex, licking and licking in a certain rhythm that had you finally blushing and groaning at the ceiling.

In between your haze, you found yourself smirking. Of course, a dancing god would have a perfect tempo but it was almost unfair. You wanted to have fun and make him work for it, and instead, he was the one driving you crazy.

So much so you needed to grab his hair and when you did, you clenched, biting your bottom lip not only not to moan but also not to come. Unknowingly, he made it easier for you. Maybe he thought you needed a break and that was your way of asking because he gave you one, nuzzling your clit instead. Only that made you squirm and grip his head harder, pressing him to you for more pressure, and he got the gist. He gripped your hips in place, sticking his tongue inside you for a moment to collect your taste only to go back to licking you deliciously over your clit.

And you finally moaned and bucked your hips, the searing sensation so close to where he was going down on you, you could have come on his face.

But you held back. You pulled his head away by his hair and almost lost your nerve at his swollen lips and hungry eyes. Why did he look so fucking delicious? Was it because he was covered in you from nose to chin?

“Fuck, if I knew you ate pussy this good, I would have gone straight for your mouth instead of leaving.”

His tongue darted out to lick your taste from his lips as his fingers dug into your skin. He couldn’t think any further than the idea of ravishing you, especially now that you were not only giving him a chance but regretting leaving him too soon. “I can keep going and finally make it up to you.”

“No,” you decided quickly, sitting back up. “Not yet.” He furrowed his brow for a moment, unsure of what you were asking. “I’ve changed my mind, I want to feel you first.”

He didn’t move. The way you seemed to be holding back brought doubts to the forefront of his mind, which brought hesitation. He could do it, he showed you he could do it, so why would you stop him now?

“Look,” you asked sweetly as you leaned forward to cup his balls. He was standing again because you had pulled him up and he observed you with curiosity. “Still so full,” you cooed, rolling his balls on your hands gently. You saw his Adam’s apple bobbing and you grinned, “And with such a pretty hard cock.” You grabbed him with your other hand, jerking him swiftly and firmly over his tip, swaying him on his feet. “Where else? I want you inside me,” you sighed, looking down at the precome spurting out of him again. Fucking tease he was. “Want to see the face you’ll make when my walls squeeze the cum out of you.”

He blinked and licked his lips, knowing fully well you expected an answer but needing to scramble his mind for one, “Whatever you ask.”

You smiled mischievously and slowed your fist on him only to beckon him closer, “Kiss me.”

Your traces on his face were waning but you were quick to lap your tongue around his mouth messily, holding his chin in place so he wouldn’t escape you when you pushed your tongue inside him. Your excitement was taking the breaks out of you and it showed when you pumped his cock harder, not giving him a second to breathe. He had to fight or submit to your tongue as you pressed in, biting his lip whenever he tried to evade you, even if to moan your name. But the effects of that sound only made it worse.

Your legs laced around him and pressed him closer so you could guide the crown of his cock to your entrance, “So hard and thick.” 

Your lewd voice dragged as you clenched around his girth and it tried to catch in you. His hands came to rest on your legs, eyes fixed on the view while his lower lip became trapped between his teeth. He was hanging on, desperate for the moment it would happen.

“You’ll stretch me so good,” you moaned at the thought, and his sole reply was a jerk of his hips. You licked your lips at the initiative and pressed your shins to his ass to get him swaying. “Gonna make me all wet and crazy for this cock,” you rasped as you saw, same as him, his cock trying to push into your closed fist to reach your sex. “Gonna fill me up with that sweet cum of yours. Aren’t you?”

You asked as you grinned, feeling the precome fill your hand again. Fuck, he was messy, and he had no idea how much you liked that.

“Shit,” his mumble was his only verbal response, meanwhile his hips gained momentum. He clearly enjoyed your incentive, your fist pulsing around his tip in a tease, threatening to catch him only to let him go back in an endless game that had him shaking.

You saw it, and you loved it and couldn’t not play with him. It was stronger than you. As he kept jolting, trying to ever reach inside you, you caressed his hip gently with your free hand, leaning closer to meet him halfway. Because he was bending forward, flushed and focused, breathing heavily as he rutted into your hand, so bent on getting inside you no matter what it took. He was facing you, reading your lips as you cooed him sweetly, fueling his hunger with yours and falling into your kiss. 

You licked his lips in a tease, “Harder.”

And he did, following your lead as he grunted and tensed under your fingers now at his sweaty neck. You were entranced by him in ways hard to describe: his parted pouty lips, his breathtaking stare, and his cocked eyebrows telling you that he was rising to the challenge and giving you what you wanted. Your mouth opened too when his cock finally slid so well in your fist that the tip kissed your folds and you shuddered. His hands had sneaked up to your hips and gripped harder, committed to that last stretch to get to you, and you licked your lips.

And let go.

You opened your hand and he suddenly slid inside you, splitting you so harshly you screamed with the invasion, and so did he. He almost collided with your chest, dodging your face last second so you wouldn’t head bump, but his focus had shifted. Instantly he groaned, and you burned in bliss. You knew the way your walls were squeezing him was mind blowing, your throbbing to accommodate his girth helping you and him. He twitched and groaned into the crook of your neck and you knew he had lost control again.

Fuck, you just adored the way he breathed when he was high and coming down, it was perfect. Riveting, exhilarating, heavenly. All the things you knew he would be, and more. 

He cursed into your shoulder and you grinned, making sure to tell him, “We’re not done.”

He straightened back to look at you and you smiled endearingly as you cupped his cheeks.

“You just stretched me,” you cooed. “Gonna let me ride you?”

He blinked, “Now?”

“Now, gorgeous,” you sighed with a smile, crossing your legs on his ass firmly before he had any ideas. It was hard not to enter a frenzy after so much foreplay, especially now that his come was threatening to drip out of you. “Said I’d empty you, and you’re not done yet.”

You reached to pull his leather jacket back and off him then pulled his shirt up without the slightest hesitation. Your nails grazed down his pale skin over his pecs, marking him as you felt the muscles leading to his thin waist.

Your fingers brushed his NEVERMIND tattoo, “You’re so fucking hot, no wonder.”

He pressed his palms to his eyes and you could guess he was letting the embarrassment back in, and you weren’t having it.

“Look at me,” you demanded firmly, and he lowered his hands to look at you in surprise. “I need to ride you,” you said and bucked your hips in case he had forgotten where he was still sheathed. “Take me and sit on that chair.”

He glanced at the chair next to him where you had thrown your jacket, and wrapped his arms around you to do as you requested. As he did, he wondered how he could break down to you that eventually, he’d get soft, but the thought never reached his mouth because you were kissing his head and pressing yourself to him. As soon as his ass hit the chair, your feet found the ground and you rolled your hips over him with a quiet moan that covered him in goosebumps. Right, he thought, tension stiffening him from head to toe. He was still hard inside you, you felt that good.

You could feel him stretching you, barely any of his come dripping down, and so you moved tentatively only to lose your mind soon after. “Fuck you’re so good,” you mewled into his ear as you hugged him and rocked over him. “Your cum got me sliding so well,” you sighed, and he dug his fingers into your waist. “Not just a pretty cock, huh?” You leaned back and smiled, letting him see how fucking crazy he made you. “But a good cock,” you moaned, never stopping your ride. “Made to keep me well stuffed and satisfied, hm?”

Pleasure was twisting his features and you doubted he would answer you.

You leaned forward, “Fuck, I need to empty you.” You were starting to hump him hard, not only searching for his cock to hit inside you but for a roughness over your clit. You gripped the hair at the back of his head and reached to ghost his lips, “Leave you spent and pretty.” Your hips gained traction and the way he was looking back at you, as if he knew how crazy he drove you, had you gripping harder. “Can I?”

He smiled, “Yeah.”

And it broke you. You took support on his shoulders and jumped once on his cock, making sure he was ready for you. He was.

“Get your pants off and away.”

“What?”

“Do it: out of your feet and kick them away,” you repeated, giving him the time to do it without getting off your throne. Once he sat back up, grabbing your hips comfortably, you rolled them again, “Your come is dripping.” You were gluing your chest to his and he was busy looking at it, wrapped in red. “We’re gonna make such a mess.”

You chuckled sensually and kissed his cheek all the way to his ear, biting on his earlobe as you got comfortable on his lap.

“Tell me to stop if you’re uncomfortable, okay?” You asked gently before licking his ear, “I can always ride your pretty mouth.” He was squirming when you tried licking him again, so you pulled back. “Good?”

He nodded, biting his lip as he eyed you, and you smirked. You leaned in to bite his pouty lip for just a languid moment before you pressed on your heels to slide up his shaft and then fall down. And again and again, easily letting the moans out of your lips now that you weren't holding back. His head fell back a little, eyes fixed on you as his chin dropped, and you took it upon yourself to make him sound pretty.

The slaps, the wetness, the tight vice you had him under; he couldn’t even think. How could you feel this good? His toes were curling, his nails sank into the fabric of your dress as he looked at your chest bouncing in front of his face. Fuck, you were gorgeous. He wanted to be with you and he had dreamed of your fucking him, sitting on his face and smothering him, but shit, he wasn't expecting that. He had come just before and still, you felt insanely good. 

Your lips twitched into a mischievous smile, “Do you like it?”

“Oh, yeah,” he breathed, so fucked out you only tensed more.

“Good,” you chimed happily, kissing his mouth before leaning to nibble on his earlobe again. “Fuck, I wanna come hard on your cock, show you how good you make me feel.” He shuddered, holding you closer to him. Every word of yours was a moan, he believed you, but he wanted to hear you unfold. “Would you like that? Should we make a mess?”

“Definitely, yes.”

His lips brushed your neck near your hairline and you scratched his shoulders, jumping on his lap as much as your embrace allowed you to. You didn't need much, you had been holding on for so long and the way he pierced you inside was just perfect. It didn't take much to relent the control and your moan pitched, higher and harder with his poking inside, adding to the lewd sounds and the lascivious thought of his balls squashed beneath you as you jumped on him, and you popped.

Jimin was focused on your boobs bouncing nearly on his face when you squealed. He glanced up, avid to finally see you come, but in your scream, he felt wet.

He looked down as your moans subsided and touched his stomach down to where your sexes met. He was wet, like a glass of water had just been thrown there.

“Woah,” he breathed, bewildered.

“Is that okay?” You asked, winded.

“That’s fucking okay,” he rasped, at a loss for words. He had never seen that before and you didn't give him time to think about it.

Your hypnotizing hips kept going as you raised his chin to kiss him. “That’s how good you feel,” you moaned, out of breath. “That’s how hot you are. Fuck, that’s how much I wanted to ride your cock.”

You grabbed his head to kiss him deeply, pushing your tongue in again to lick and flick inside his mouth. Your head was spinning as you got lost, scratching up to his scalp to keep him in place for your pussy to swallow and ride him without a break.

Until you broke away with a whine, “I’m not done.”

“Keep going,” was his instant reply, glistening eyes boring into yours.

“Can you come with me?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “You feel really good but I’ve never done it like this before. I’ve no idea.”

Your lips curved with a hint of mischievousness as you brushed his sweaty hair out of his forehead to kiss him there, “I’d like to feel you coming again.”

“Me too,” he leaned into your touch with a sigh, kissing you back when you searched for his lips. “Pleasure yourself, I’ll follow.”

You smiled at his proposition, sliding up and down his shaft with ease. It felt good but you had to build your tension again and to know you had a green light to do as you pleased instantly sparked you. He really seemed to be your type.

You bit his pouty lip gently and dragged a hand of his from your waist to your ass. “Rub it for me.”

The dress had climbed to your waist and he took a moment to palm your round asscheek, feeling how it contracted with every swing of your hips. You were chasing a second orgasm and he groped you with a smile, happily thinking to himself it was a blessing he had come first. Now you could just use him without worries.

And he wanted to help you do it, so he slid his fingers closer to your rim. Your constant jumping got you the rub you asked for, and you squirmed, trying to get more without sacrificing his cock pounding inside you.

He was entranced, seeing your expression riddled with pleasure as he rubbed a bit harder, and soon you clenched hard. So hard he looked down expectantly, the way your body moved blowing his mind irreparably. He was yet to see your tits, but the way he wanted to eat them—

You pressed your lips to his almost anxiously, stopping your movements to stay on his lap and kiss him. He wondered why you had stopped, but your kiss stole his whole reasoning. You were reaching deep, touching corners of him he didn’t know were accessible so easily. But it was unfair to call what you were doing to him easy, it was definitely something only you could do. And in the midst of having his whole mind and body overrun by you, he wondered if he’d ever be able to forget you.

“I have one last request,” you smiled, still so close he nuzzled your skin as he thought that he'd give you whatever you asked for. “Eat my tits so I can come.”

His brain seriously glitched as he looked at you, your smile only furthering the downtime. The sway of your hips entranced him again as you slowly picked the rhythm back up with your eyes set on him. Your tongue peeked between your lips and the corners of your lips twitched slyly — it got you so high knowing that you could make him dazed like that. Everything about his expression and the way he looked down at your cleavage turned you on, and you were the happiest to make it even worse.

But as you tried to pull the dress straps down your shoulders to get more of your chest free, the fabric offered resistance. It distracted you from what mattered and Jimin didn’t like that. Quite the opposite; he liked that even if he glitched and forgot how to use his mouth other than to drool, you were still free to keep going, riding him to your heart’s content. But knowing you wanted his mouth on your breasts and that you were struggling enough that it was ruining your pleasure was unacceptable. 

He didn’t think; he gripped the fabric by the deep cleavage and pulled the straps effortlessly over your shoulders along with your bra. Your breasts easily overflowed from your padless red bra and he was in awe. Your tits were moving lusciously along with your body straddling him and his thought process stopped again.

The way he looked at you upped your arousal another notch right before he buried his face in your boobs, pressing them to either side of his face. His thumbs instantly squeezed and rubbed your nipples and your hips bucked, pleasure shooting through you in a way that had you bouncing. And as you did, his come mixed with your slick, dripping down onto him and making you shudder from head to toe.

“Fuck,” you moaned, at the tip of the spear as you looked down at him trying to lick both boobs at the same time. He clearly liked their size, loving the way he could reach both as long as he grabbed them together. “You feel that?” He hummed right as his tongue darted out to lick you yet again. “Fuck,” you dragged, rolling your hips again with a hiccuped movement. “I want you to cover my walls white.”

“I will,” he pulled away to look at you with dark glistening eyes. “Don’t stop, I fucking will.”

He was twitching inside you, holding his orgasm at bay. He could do it better now that he had already come once and looking at you, he knew he wouldn’t fail you this time. It was a wonder to him how he was on edge so soon, but it didn’t matter. Because he was with you, giving you pleasure, touching you and eager to see and feel you unravel again. 

Moreover, you actually asked him to do one of his favorite things in the world. He looked down at the precious gorgeous treasure in his hands and couldn’t help himself. He had to play with them, to squeeze, to lick them and bite them, and feel every time you squirmed. Every moan, every shudder, your fingers sinking in his hair to keep him there, and he stayed gladly. It had him twitching like crazy, hanging on a dangerous balance between too much stimulation and just barely enough until you screamed.

He meant to look down to see you coming this time, but as you pressed him to your chest so hard he could barely breathe, there was no way he’d oppose you. Also, he was in heaven, so he didn’t want to. You were squeezing him so well, gripping him so firmly while you squirted around him that it was bliss to finally let go. He breathed you in, perfume and feminine scent imbued together on your chest, right as he rutted into you.

Your orgasm was powerful, taking such a grip on you, that you didn’t realize you were screaming and possibly suffocating him until dozens of seconds later. By then, you could still feel him twitching inside you but what had you biting on your lip was the way he mumbled your name. His eyes were closed, he looked fucked out and exhausted after trying to reach deep inside you, and after being drained of his last drop, your name was the last word spilling out of his lips.

It made you want to hold him and never let go.

You nuzzled him and then reached to kiss his sweaty forehead. As you hugged him, you realized through your haze how much you trusted him. You knew you did it professionally, but now you felt like it was wholehearted. Being vulnerable and intimate was always a difficult choice for you, but this was nice. And good. And wholesome. You sighed.

But as you both recovered your breath and came to, you became aware of being all sticky, hot, and sweaty, and that as soon as you got up, it would get worse. You didn’t want to move, but reality would come knocking soon, and hopefully not literally.

You kissed his forehead again as if to wake him up, and he palmed your waist and lower back gently. That was when you felt confident enough to get up, immediately reaching for the Kleenex box on the desk to put tissues in between your legs right before passing him a few.

You cleaned yourself as best you could and rearranged your dress before turning to him to help him, but he was already clean and putting his clothes back on. You reached for your underwear with a mute sigh; you needed a shower badly.

You tried combing your hair with your fingers and froze when you saw him effortlessly putting every piece of clothing in place, his hair so beautiful it looked like it had just been styled. You were probably gaping because when you blinked, he was already smiling and brushing your hair gently over your chest as if he was enamored by it.

You didn’t know what to say. “I need a shower,” you smiled sheepishly as if to justify why you looked unruly right now and why your hair was being difficult. You felt immediately silly; why would Jimin care about your hair? He lowered his hand though, and you nodded, “I guess I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Wait,” he voiced when you were already grabbing your purse from the floor and turning to leave. He was running his fingers through his hair in a gesture seemingly detached, but you knew him better by now. He might have been nervous. “I want to invite you to mine but it would be a problem because of photographers and all that.”

“That’s okay.”

You spoke before you could think, but your cheeks still reacted in time. You knew he noticed your blushing but there was no teasing to be found in him, just something akin to a purpose. And it made you raise your eyebrows, reviewing what he had just said.

You licked your lips, “Would you like to come to mine?”

He instantly grinned and closed the distance between you, then cupped your cheeks, “Thought you’d never ask.”

All you saw was his endearing smile right before he kissed you.

[mustainegf]

Something dumb I wrote the other night

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝟑 𝐎𝐅 𝐔𝐒 ¹⁹⁹⁶

Quiet is all that surrounds us, the kind of hush one could wrap around themselves like a blanket. Curled up beside me, she is a soft curve against the bed, our bed. She had been everything to me for so long, but now, with her belly full of our baby, she was something else, something even more special.

She was the mother of my child. Seven months. Seven months of watching her change. Seven months of feeling the baby move beneath my hands. Seven months of watching her smile, a soft smile that somehow gets brighter with each day.

I swear I'm just about to fall asleep when it happens, a tiny, almost silent sniff. My eyes pop open, my heart constricting at the sound. I thought that by now I'd gotten to know her well enough to tell when something's wrong, even though she tries to hide it.

"Sweetheart?" I whisper into the darkness, turning toward her. My reaching hand finds her arm, warm, soft, and familiar under my fingers.

She doesn't answer but sniffs again. Her body trembles a bit. That cuts deep, hearing her like this, in this kind of struggle. I scoot closer and close the little space between us. press my chest to her back, wrap my arm around her, feel the roundness of her belly against my arm, a gentle movement of life, what we created, moving inside her.

"Hey," I murmur again, my voice low. I nuzzle my face into her hair, breathing in her scent. "Talk to me, love. What's going on?"

She takes a shaky breath, and I know she's trying to keep it together, to be strong. "I don't know, James," she whimpers. "I just… I can't sleep. Everything feels… I don’t know, and my mind won't stop.”

God, that hurts to hear. We've been through so much already, carrying our baby, all I wish now is that it were some weight of mine to bear so she might find a little comfort. Sadly, All I can really do is be here, holding her, letting her know she's not alone.

I shift her gently onto her back and prop myself up on one elbow to look at her. Her face is pale, her eyes red rimmed from holding back the tears. "You are doing so much, love," I say. "You're carrying our baby, and that is no small thing. It's okay... It's okay to lean on me.”

She gives me a nod, but I see the fight in her eyes.

I had to bend a bit and set a soft kiss onto her forehead, then another onto her temple. "Come here," I whisper, pulling her into my arms. I settled her against my chest, and one hand cradles her there while the other draws slow, soothing circles around her back. She takes a deep breath, and her body relaxes a little as she snuggles closer to me.

I can feel the baby moving in her, little flutters that spike a smile onto my face despite how heavy it feels in this place.

"You remember our song?" I ask softly, my lips brushing against her silky hair. "The one I wrote for you?"

I don't think she has to say anything. We both know the song. "Nothing Else Matters" was how I was telling her that she means everything to me, that she would always mean everything to me. We knew it back then, and still we do.

I begin to hum the melody coming from my chest. Her body relaxes further, and she seems to melt into me as she listens. Then, I sing, and the words come falling from my lips.

"So close, no matter how far… Couldn't be much more from the heart…”

My voice is soft, just for her, just for our baby. I keep it gentle, like a lullaby, hoping it'll help ease her back to sleep.

"Forever trusting who we are… And nothing else matters…”

As I sang, I felt her breathing slow, consciousness leaving her body. I pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and kept singing.

"Never cared for what they do. Never cared for what they know.”

Her hand drifts to rest on her belly, and I take it in mine. I can feel our baby move beneath our hands, a little kick and a roll.

"And I know… So close, no matter how far…”

I just keep singing, and by the time I get this far, her breathing has evened out and I’m pretty sure she is asleep. Her body is warm and heavy against mine, and I press yet another kiss to her hair.

I raise my voice slowly, only after being sure that she actually is deeply asleep, I leave my singing to the silence of the night. I lift my hand from hers and gently rub her tummy, with the baby's movements slowing down too. I lean, pressing my lips into her stomach.

"There there little one," I whisper to my son or daughter. "Mama's asleep now… you let her rest now, okay?"

Nothing else matters, nothing ever will. Not the fame, not the noise of the world. All that matters is here, in my arms.

I pull back a little in order to kiss her tummy again. "I love you," I whisper, to both of them.

She wriggles slightly in her sleep before she gives a faint sigh from her lips and then lies still. I press her to me, and my hand never leaves her belly. The night is still now, peaceful, and I close my eyes, holding the two loves of my life.

[annabelle--cane]

Hey so I'm not good at subtext and I saw you posting about ep 200 of TMA being awesome. I've listened to it a few times and I'm mostly...confused? I don't understand what happened

(I mean, I get what Martin did to Jon, but nothing other than that)

Would you mind explaining why it's impactful to you?

honestly the main standout thing that makes it really shine to me is the soundscaping and vocal editing, and I've seen people take that as an indirect snide comment about the writing before but it really isn't, the entire scene in the panopticon just sounds gorgeous. the distortion and static on jon's voice, the underscoring of the statement, the way jon and martin's dialogue pops out from the sounds of the crumbling tower, it's just. aaaaaaaaaa. I find it really pleasant to listen to, if you've only listened through speakers then I'd 100% recommend trying it with headphones, it is simply very pretty and well made.

from the story side, it's beat after beat of ultimate catharsis for threads and arcs that have been set up for the whole show.

jon going ham and just really brutally killing jonah with his own hands, no supernatural influence, finally fulling snapping and, it sounds like, gutting him like a fish. it's just about the most lively and impassioned we've heard him all season, and, as far as anyone could deserve to do such a thing, he really is the person who deserved to get to do it.

jon and martin both betraying each other and making the choices that the whole story has been leading them to. jon has spent years fighting against his internalized idea that he can't trust anyone and he's the only person who's powerful/expendable/knowledgeable enough to make decisions and solve problems, and at last he submits to it and takes matters into his own hands. martin has spent years operating under the assumption that he's unimportant and incapable, and now just as he finally accepts that his choices have meaning, he sets the plan in motion that ends up getting them both killed. and jon has tried so hard to be transparent and show him trust that he underestimates just how willing jon is to go behind his back and disregard the plan completely.

and the fuckign. web lighter. I have a longstanding obsession with the mechanics of fate in tragedy narratives, and this lighter. hhh. so, fate (the web) was guiding jon & co to release the fears, but to jon's knowledge, killing jonah and becoming the pupil should have been his winning move to keep them contained. as far as he was capable of comprehending, he made all the right choices, but fate (the web) (the oppressive forces that govern all of our lives) doesn't play fair, it planned for this and cheated him. because he couldn't remember the lighter. he couldn't remember that he already gave georgie the catalyst for the explosion.

this tells me a few things: the ultimate end of releasing the fears was always going to happen, there was nothing jon could have done, but, technically, he could have adhered to the plan and lived to spend what was left of his life with martin and the rest of his nearest and dearest. but that was never really an option, was it? jon archivist sims would never have made that decision, that's why martin tried and failed to plan around it, that's why the web tried and succeeded to plan around it, it would never have happened differently. jon made his choice, it made no difference except to doom himself and the one he loves, he didn't have to do it, and it was inevitable.

and after all of that, after the web cheated him, he could still have won. he could have survived the tower collapse and kept the fears. but one of his biggest stated motives, over and over, is that he can't stand to lose anyone else, and martin is not immune to burning buildings the way he is. in an inverse to gertrude, at the last moment, he chose the barest chance for martin to survive over his own life and principles and big picture goals. he could cope with being responsible for killing the world in the abstract, but when it came to watching the person he loves most die right before his eyes, he caved and came around to martin's perspective. the other worlds can cope, he wants to save the man he loves.

[actual-changeling]

I think in like. 90% of "they're handcuffed to each other" scenarios, they would not care. It would barely affect their work at all. They'd keep them on even once they have the key because this is the perfect 'for the love of God, do NOT get kidnapped again' insurance.

However.

There are those delicious 10% right in the middle of the Diana mess that would make for the most painful, angsty, hurt/comfort fic you can imagine. Arcadia, but turned up to 11.

This was not supposed to be anything resembling said fic and instead stay a shitpost—but here we are.

———

They're fighting over who gets to be in charge of movement immediately, and they do not stop . They keep tripping because they decide to suddenly walk in two different directions, and their wrists are chafed and bloody.

They keep going like that for a while until their lack of coordination and teamwork almost gets them killed, and then they're stuck hiding in a small, dark space, forced to TALK.

Imagine a janitor's closet or a small, windowless bathroom.

First, there's silence.

Then, one of them dares to say a word, and suddenly they're at each other's throats, going straight for the jugular.

Petty fighting turns into insults, which turn into months of pent-up emotions spilling out without any control over how, and they both say things they'll definitely regret later on.

Until it finally reaches a breaking point when Mulder—annoyed, frustrated, confused—cuts her off and says, "You're making it personal again, Scully."

Her mouth closes with an audible click, and she freezes before shuffling as far away from him as she possibly can. He realises he has fucked up. A lot.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"Oh, you meant it, Mulder; don't backpedal. You meant it now, and you meant it back then too."

"Scully—"

"Shut up."

She's exhausted. So fucking tired. You made me a whole person to get her to stay, and she'd believed him. Damn it all, she had believed him. Just for him to turn it into a lie and destroy her trust within seconds.

"What does it take? For this thing to come up and bite you on the ass? I saw these creatures. I saw them burst to life. You would've seen them, too, but you were infected with that virus. You were passed out over my shoulder."   "Mulder, I know what you did. I know what happened to me, but without ignoring the science, I can't… Listen, Mulder. You told me that my science kept you honest. That it made you question your assumptions. That by it, I'd made you a whole person. If I change now… it wouldn't be right or honest."   "I'm talking about extraterrestrial life alive on this planet in our lifetime. Forces that dwarf and precede all human history. I'm sorry, Scully, but this time your science is wrong."

He had walked away from her without a second of hesitation, and she wishes she could walk away from him now.

Six years of loyalty and trust, and for what? To end up as the second-best, easily forgotten choice? To be wanted not for herself but as a placeholder, a substitute for someone else?

Forgiveness, over and over, without hesitation, and Mulder took it for granted. Of course, she will do what he wants. Even when he goes behind her back. Even when he tricks her into it. Even when he leaves her behind with barely a word. Even when she has no reason to do it except because it's him.

Because it's personal.

It has always been personal, but suddenly it's a fallacy she spun out of nothing and not the foundation of their partnership.

"I shouldn't have said that, Scully, i—"

I'm asking you to trust my judgment. To trust me.

"Mulder, shut. up."

He hadn't trusted her. She still trusts him and hates herself for it. What's the point of trusting someone when the reward is rejection and loneliness? When he stopped trusting her God knows how long ago?

The skin on her right wrist burns with abrasions, but she refuses to budge. Pain is sharp and honest, grounding and constant. She trusts pain more than she trusts him.

Time is hard to tell in the dark, it could be minutes or hours of waiting until she can feel his fingertips brush against her palm; she suppresses the urge to flinch. Mulder's touch is warm and light, not meant to ask but to offer, and her body betrays her mind and allows him to interlace their fingers.

God, she misses him. 

Underneath all that bubbling anger and lingering betrayal, she misses her partner. She misses him and the person she knows she can be with him—lighthearted, happy, alive. Contented hours of searching through files and writing reports have become a necessary sacrifice; suffocating spans of time she counts down by the minute.

It was never about the desk. It is not about Diana, not really. 

Maybe the darkness makes them both a bit braver, a bit softer around the edges, because she lets out a deep sigh and wills the tension to leave her muscles. If they keep going the way they have in recent weeks, they will break apart sooner rather than later, and she doesn't want to lose him, she never has. 

All she wants is to get her best friend back and to keep him for however long the world will allow. Not a clean slate or a new beginning, but a second chance for both of them. 

Caught between either extending an olive branch or ending up alone, it is easy to choose. Because it's personal, always has been, and always will be.

The pressure around her wrist disappears when she stops trying to keep her arm from him, and he hesitantly squeezes her hand—she slowly squeezes back.

"I'm sorry. for all of it. I never meant to hurt you, but I did, and I'm so, so sorry."

Scully pushes herself backward so she is leaning against him again, and when she closes her eyes, she can almost pretend they're somewhere, anywhere else, and she's finally coming home.

"I know, Mulder. I know."

[quitealotofsodapop]

Refering to Twin Sun AU:

Wait, so where's Macaque when the pilgrims meet Wukong's brother? Where's his hot goth boyfriend to show off to the pig?!(He can so get bitches, he just has an acquired taste unlike the greedy piglet!)

Like, if Mac kept going back to the mountain while he was imprisoned, even if they argued a lot, wouldn't Macaque be on FFM helping take care of their home? Wouldn't he be there for introductions after they come to apologize? Was he hiding in wukong's room with him when they first showed up and comforting his crying boyfriend? Are they official at that point or just besties dancing around each other still? Is he visiting DBK's family? Will he show up during Redson's arc? I don't think he would miss out on the chance to show up and spook Wukong's new friends if given an actually valid chance to do so, he's kinda petty like that, the sassy bitch. Where's my favorite emo monkey?!

I feel like Macaque still takes a break from FFM for a bit after a few decades to find himself artistically - in a lot of aus I have him train under the Nine-Tailed Vixen. And since Luzhen is at home governing everything (albeit with a lot of help from the Stalwarts) Macaque wouldn't feel much guilt in going on the road.

As long as he's able to return to Five Point Mountain at least once a year.

I love the imagery of Wukong running home after the White Bone Arc, believing that he's lost the closest companions he's had in centuries - only to see Macaque standing there in their bedroom, pretending as though he hadn't rushed home at the sounds of his mate's release upon the wind.

Wukong collaspes into his mate's arms, sobbing from a mixture of frustration and loss of his party, and of relief and joy of seeing Macaque in their home again.

Macaque is ready to murder that monk if he ever dares step on to their island.

Luzhen almost beats his brother-in-law to the punch with that one. Luckily the Stalwarts, Sha Wujing & Ao Lie, and Wukong himself stop that from happening.

As they're all hashing out their demands, a deep enchanting voice comes from the Palace doors.

It's Macaque, deliberately unglamoured and dressed in silk bedclothes befitting a King's spouse. His hair toussled as if he'd just rolled out of bed.

Wukong is confused by Macaque's choice in fashion until he sees Zhu Bajie's expression.

The very same pig who had goaded their master out of spite of Wukong "ruining his chance" with the White Bone Demon, was now staring jaw-dropped at who Wukong had waiting at home for him.

Wukong's face goes red from blushing, and he socks Bajie in the face for oogling his goth bf.

Macaque still doesn't trust Tripitaka. His own sense of premonition tells him that the monk will betray their trust in the future. He wants Wukong's circlet off Yesterday.

But Tripitaka cannot remove the Circlet. Only the Buddha himself can.

Macaque growls with frustration - and threatens that if Tripitaka ever uses the Headache Sutra again, then Macaque will personally take the voice from the Monk's throat before taking his mate home with him.

Macaque occasionally pops up along the Journey - whether working/performing for his Vixen mentor, or just to check that the Pilgrims are keeping their promises. Even just to step out of the shadows and terrify them at quiet moments. And ofc to smooch Wukong as they did whenever they met under the Mountain each year - the Golden-Eyed king watching his mate emerge from the darkness like he's the moon itself.

Misfortune does happen to Macaque though. Something that leaves him minus an eye. Perhaps a version of what happens in the Jttw Stone Egged au between him and the Brotherhood - the shadow far more quick to denounce his former brothers with the confidence a healthy marriage and a supportive brother-in-law has brought him.

Luzhen is very proud of how Macaque makes things up to Wukong, though he'd never say it.

[baldurs-gape]

Gap in the Resume

In a way, Gale should have been grateful to Elminster, the man had pulled strings to get him the interview. Life was all well and good but he did feel a little guilty for relying so heavily on Astarion, not to mention it was setting a bad example that they made ends meet through skills of theft and contract killings. Determined to make an honest life, Gale had started job hunting once life had started to settle a bit and his hands weren't quite so full. Brushing out an invisible wrinkle from his tunic, he waited on the creaky leather sofa. Finally, the door opened.

"Mr. Dekarios?"

Standing so quickly his vision speckled, Gale tried to look confident as he approached the Dean of the school. It wasn't Blackstaff, he couldn't go back there, not after everything but a less prestigious school might just be what he needed.

"Good to meet you, and please, call me Gale." He shook hands with her eagerly and settled on the even less comfortable chair by the impressive desk.

"Elminster has talked highly about you and your skills. It made me think that perhaps you were a little too modest on your CV."

"Yes, well, some things are easier to explain in words than with in on paper."

The Dean looked at him over her glasses with a smile. "Well, here's your chance, Gale. Why would an ex-Chosen of Mystra herself want to teach at our school of all places?"

Rather than say that he was scraping the barrell and needed his old mentor's help in getting honest work, Gale tried to smile, cleared his throat and straightened his back. He'd rehearsed this, it was going to be fine, smooth even."

"Teaching has been somewhat thrust upon me in the last eight years or so. It's a little difficult to always keep track of time in the Underdark. It wasn't a career I had ever really entertained until I got firsthand experience of how rewarding it could be."

So far so good, the Dean nodded along and settled back with a more relaxed posture. Emboldened, Gale decided it was better to throw in some examples to back his words up.

"Perhaps my proudest moment as a teacher was when I took a small group on an expedition towards Lenore's tower and we encountered yet another minotaur - I swear they are the cockroaches of the Underdark - and the six with me made a meal of it." The somewhat puzzled look he received had him rushing to explain. "Before it would have been a lot of snapping and snarling at each other, more blood wasted than drank. Sebastian had a nasty habit of trying to claw the eyes out of anyone who so much as was near him when drinking. Yet there he was, happily sharing the bounty with five others!"

"Mr. Dekarios, Gale-" the Dean held up a finger, "-just what exactly do you teach? I was under the impression you were a wizard."

"I am!" Indignant, Gale huffed. "But you try teaching magic to 7000 feral vampire spawn. Manners had to come first."

"Seven. Thousand. Vampire. Spawn."

Nodding with vigour, Gale's arms came into play as he began to explain.

"We were responsible for them after freeing them. Well, first we had to sort out the Netherbrain while the Gur rounded them up and kept them safe from everyone including themselves. It wasn't like we could abandon them. I happen to take responsibility very seriously. It began with a book club for the more recently turned and those interested and just grew from there." Barely stopping to take a breath, he continued, "Trust me, I wanted to show them the wonders of magic but some of them couldn't even read, a tracesty if you ask me."

A strained smile appeared on the Dean's face. She sat primly, hands clasped on the table between them.

"Did this happen after your status as Chosen was revoke?"

"Yes. Well, not immediately. I spent a year trying to tame the Netherese orb in my chest." At that, the Dean looked alarmed. "Don't worry, it's all taken care of now, it's old news. But for a year I worked heavily on the research of the elimination of Netherese fragments bonded to a human entity. Alas before I could refine my findings and publish, a Nautiloid snatched me up as I was hanging my washing. Now, I know mindflayers don't have emotions in the same capacity but it was downright rude. Then they put the tadpole in my brain."

By that point the strained smile had fallen away and the Dean was outright alarmed, edging away from the table and away from Gale. Off script and caught up in the story, he wasn't slowing down.

"Anyway, you've probably heard of the Baldur's Gate Netherbrain incident. That was me and a couple of others who are now good friends of mine. But try putting that on a resume. It wasn't relevant to teaching magic really. I don't want to walk into the classroom as some mighty hero, I just want to be normal and treated as such. And now the spawn as all mostly settled, I feel I can leave them without fear of any incidents. I did so enjoy teaching them that I thought; why not? I could do this with young people. They'll probably be more likely to singe off your eyebrows by mistake than try to drain you of blood. Much cheaper if you ask me, scrolls of revivify used to make up a good 70% of our weekly expenses."

Tirade over, Gale leaned back in his chair and sighed, glad to have got that all out. A little sheepish at having gone so far off script, he offered a tiny smile. "Do you have any other questions about the gap in my resume? Because I don't think I touched on the mental health of students. Mystra demanded repeatedly that I kill myself. It is safe to say I wouldn't ever be anything but accepting and nurturing of even the most frustrating minds in the classroom. They're safe with me."

"Actually," the Dean's voice was a little breathy, "I think you've been very informative, thank you. I can let you know the outcome of the interview in the next tenday once all interviews for the position have concluded. Thank you so much for coming in today."

She stood and Gale copied. This time she didn't stand close to usher him out the room, a rather large amount of space was left between them. Gale's heart sank. It wasn't the first time an interview ended so abruptly and with such false smiles. Nodding, he turned to the door and left.

Outside, Astarion was leaning against the wall, covered from head to toe for safety.

"How did it go?" he asked.

Sadly, Gale shook his head and deflated. "I went off script. At least she didn't call security I guess?"

"Not to worry. We'll find a place. Hells, we could probably even found it, the Underdark Academy, a place for the unruly to come and be transformed into etiquette experts. What do you think?"

Laughing, Gale bumped their shoulders and sighed, trying to let go of the disappointment that had settled in his gut.

"You say the sweetest things to me, don't you?"

Their hands tangled until fingers interlaced and Astarion pulled it up to press a kiss to the back of Gale's. This job wasn't to be but that was alright. They had all the time in the world to figure it all out. And for Gale to discover that while he was in the interview, Astarion had stolen anything that moved from the school.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not telling my partners I'm a system?

💚🐻

To preface this, I don't use Tumblr and I'm using my partner's account, so I would rather ask this anonymously. Forgive any non-tumblr-isms 😅.

This happened a while ago, but to be honest I can't let this go. I feel so horrible about it despite being reassured and I figured Tumblr, who has a lot of systems/people with DID/OSDD, would be able to give me an unbiased (as much as I can give an unbiased account, anyway) answer.

I, (24M), am a system with one headmate, P, (??). (Neither of us are sure how old he is, since it seems to change on the day). I don't want to get into exactly how I got him, but I believe the term for what we are is "traumagenic"? Sorry, again, I'm not really familiar with everything.

Anyway, I've had him since I was 8, and he's been... well, a real pain in the ass, to be frank. I understand now that he's a defender by nature and was trying to protect us, but when you get expelled from middle school for several physical attacks and almost get sent to juvie you start to resent the guy a bit. He's a bit like a sleeping bear, except if the sleeping bear had one eye open and killed you before you could hurt him.

Back when I got out of my abuser's house and went no contact at age 20, I moved in with my current partners, Bonfire (24M) and Greenhouse (25NB) (names changed for privacy, obviously.) At the time I didn't know them, but they were looking for another roommate and I desperately needed somewhere to live.

So I moved in with just the clothes on my back and my wallet (bad move, I know, but I didn't have anything anyway). I didn't care to interact with them all that much, not wanting P to get defensive and attack them for no reason, but they just kept pushing and eventually I relented and hung out with them some.

"Some" turned to "often," and then "often" turned into "sleeping-in-their-bed-and-sharing-our-clothes." At that point I was too far into it and embarrassed to admit I'd been hiding a whole other person from them in my mind. I wasn't sure if they'd even like me after, what with P's history of violence.

...so I never told them. I did my best to forget about anything that ever happened and tried to just enjoy the future I'd always wanted for myself. Bonfire and Greenhouse are lovely people and I was finally, maybe just a little happy. I'd never been a happy person and I was content to bask in it for as long as I was able.

This, of course, backfired immensely. P and I didn't have the best relationship at the time, with both of us wanting to do very extreme things to get away from the other. He wanted to kick me out and be by himself in my body, and I wanted to kill myself to be rid of him. We've since reconciled and made strides in accepting ourself for who we are- it hasn't been easy by any means, but that isn't the point.

I recognize now that he was afraid of being hurt again, not wanting to get out of that survival mindset in case Greenhouse and Bonfire turned out to be super-secret mega abusers taking advantage of our trust, but I also know what he did after was wrong.

He got physical with Bonfire, screaming at him and threatening to kill him if he got any closer. I don't have any memory of this happening, so some details may be incorrect, and I apologize for that. Bonfire, not knowing that P was not, in fact, me, (coupled with the fact that he's a fucking idiot (meant with affection)), he got closer and tried to talk me (him) down. P punched him in the face and broke his nose, after which he ran out of the house and left me to "wake up" a few miles away curled up under a tree.

P left me a note a few days later that said he didn't mean to break his (Bonfire's) nose, but that he was lucky he hadn't done worse. This, in P speak, is probably the most sincere apology I could get at the time.

To try and keep this as short as possible, I'll summarize what happened next. I told Bonfire and Greenhouse about P because at that point the cat was basically out of the bag. They said they'd wished I'd told them sooner, and that they were a little uncomfortable being in the same house as "the lean, mean, stabbing machine" (- Bonfire) but that they were willing to help me manage him if I promised to tell them everything I knew about how he worked.

I did, and it's been years since then, and now P and I are, as stated before, closer than ever. I recently asked my partners whether or not they were still upset with me for not telling them, and they just said that they weren't entitled to my medical history and trauma (which, yeah, but he did break Bonfire's nose) and that they didn't care because, "hey, we basically got a free dog out of it" (- Bonfire), and "we made a promise to love you, including all the less-than-savory parts." (- Greenhouse).

Sweet, yes, but I think I might be TA because, um, P LITERALLY BROKE BONFIRE'S NOSE AND THREATENED TO KILL HIM? AND IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN PREVENTED IF I HAD TOLD THEM?

TL;DR: I didn't tell my partners about my headmate that's prone to violence and he did violence on them and I feel bad.

AITA?

(P says hi, by the way, and he also wants me to tell you that he isn't like this anymore and much prefers soft blankets and eating fruit to breaking his family's noses.)

What are these acronyms?

[entertext]

HGSN 27-2

Chapter (Japanese)

(Please hit the green thumbs up at the end of the Japanese chapter to show support)

Rough translation by me

P1

Tanaka: There's no such thing as "Nounuki-sama"

Tanaka: The Indou family's ritual has no particular meaning either. Even without something like that, if they'd just left you alone, you would still be on the mountain

Tanaka: That's why the village became peaceful after the mass deaths. You gathered all the impurities on the mountain.

Hikaru, Yoshiki: ....

Hikaru: Then why won't it do any good if I go back to the mountain?

P2

Tanaka: You're nothing compared to what you were back then

Tanaka: You can't go back to being "Nounuki-sama" anymore

Tanaka: Besides, if you've made yourself that weak

Tanaka: there's really no way you could fully take in that huge mass of impurities, is there?

Yoshiki: ...hey, what are you after?

Yoshiki: Cutting off 'Hikaru's head...!! What the hell do you want to do to us...!

P3

Tanaka: I'm not going to do anything

Tanaka: After all, you'll self-destruct on your own sooner or later, won't you?

Yoshiki: "Self-destruct"?...

Tanaka: From where I stand, I really have to hand it to you. An untouchable, invincible being gains an ego and weakens itself.

Tanaka: If something can't be defeated, then let it destroy itself on its own

P4

Yoshiki: "Destroy itself"? There's no way... that something like that...

(Hikaru: I'm going to go back to the mountain)

Yoshiki: ...

Tanaka: My goal is to not let the company use you

Tanaka: So this is all very convenient for me

Tanaka: But before that happens, there's something I'd like you to do

Tanaka: There's a folktale in Kubitachi called "The Farmer's Head" right?

Hikaru: Yeah

P5

Tanaka: A farmer's head falls into a hole on the mountain and a feast is granted in exchange...

Tanaka: Presumably, the real story is that one killed the other and stole their possessions or something, but it's likely that the part about the head disappearing is true.

Yoshiki: (Oh that's right, in the hall...)

(Kouhei: The offered head disappears on the spot

Kouhei: That's why we have carved replacement heads in order to hold funeral services for them in this hall)

Tanaka: Why did a commonplace folk belief like "Unuki-san"

Tanaka: morph into "Nounuki-sama", a violent cult making offerings of severed heads?

Tanaka: Because there actually was a phenomenon where heads disappeared

P6

Tanaka: Even if their wishes went unanswered, that enigma formed the basis for the villagers' belief in their god.

Tanaka: As for why the heads disappeared

Tanaka: I've looked into it

Tanaka: It's because there's a hole

Tanaka: An invisible hole that the villagers have spent so many years offering heads to.

P7

Tanaka: It's likely that's the reason for this region's high number of impurities since ancient times

Tanaka: The hole connects to the other world and brings impurities through it to this side

Hikaru: A hole...

Tanaka: While you were on the mountain, its effects were kept under control, but it's continued to grow in size

Tanaka: At this rate, it'll cause a disaster any time now.

Tanaka: So I'd really like to get that thing closed somehow.

Hikaru: If it's closed, the disaster will be averted?

Tanaka: Pretty much. Whether it's possible is another story though.

P8

Tanaka: If you're going to destroy yourself either way,

Tanaka: Why don't you help me close that hole?

Yoshiki: N-...No way

Yoshiki: We can't trust anything someone like you says. After what you did to 'Hikaru' ...

Tanaka: I see you really care about 'Hikaru'-kun

Yoshiki: ...

P9

Tanaka: But that's a monster in Indou Hikaru's corpse

Tanaka: I wonder if it's really okay for you to keep clinging to Hikaru for so long.

Tanaka: Wouldn't it be better to let go?

Yoshiki: ...He isn't some phantom that appeared in order for me to get over Hikaru's death

Yoshiki: He has his own personality and desires...

P10

Tanaka: So he's simply a different individual, you say

Tanaka: Then why would you go so far

Tanaka: for such a complete stranger?

Yoshiki: ...... ......

Yoshiki: Wh-

Yoshiki: -y

Yoshiki: ...

==

Next chapter: 05/28 (next week)

Twitter Extra: (link)

Extra 2 (link):

Hikaru Doll → Take out the cotton stuffing → Pack in some unknown thing → ?? Doll

[short-honey-badger]

Peppermint Tea 22 - Lavender 5

Okay. So this part we kinda get into more background for Shanks and Mihawk. I kept it simple because I don't want to keep complicating things by adding more lol.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings! Kissing! Mihawk and Shanks are sad over a real dumb misunderstanding.

Masterlist

Sukuna narrows his eyes at the two men who are curled around his human. He doesn’t like either of them, even if the dark-haired one had been the one to save him in the first place. Sukuna didn’t trust men other than himself and his two brothers. The chickens were far too stupid to count. The males took away his attention from his human and thought they could boss him around. No one but his human bossed Sukuna around.

It’s been a day and a half since the older human had shown back up, and Sukuna’s sensitive nose could tell that you were feeling better. The sick scent had all but disappeared, but you were still weak. The cat yowled loudly to try and get your attention, but all he gained were two sets of glares from the men crowded around his human. He yowls again, putting an extra amount of sass in, and finally, it seems to work, for the smug cat watches as you sit yourself up, hair a wild mess as you find the source of all the noise.

“Suku, gimmie two minutes, and I’ll get up,” You assure your spoilt baby, and then those twin glares are on you, yellow and chocolate full of disappointment. Shanks rolls his eyes at you and then lays back, content to let Mihawk handle this when he notices the other man gearing up for it.

“You are not getting up just because that cat is begging,” Dracule says lowly, and you shiver when his hot breath tickles your chilled ear. His arm is tight around your waist, legs tucked behind your own. Shanks is pressed in close on your other side, sole arm tossed over you and resting innocently on the other man’s waist. You take in the sight, lips curling up when you happen to glance at the redhead to see him giving that soft look you are just getting to know to Mihawk.

“Hawkeye is right, baby girl. You are staying right here. One of us can go feed the bugger,” Shanks suggests, and when he gets two sets of eyes, one pleading and the other demanding, the Emperor sighs and extracts his arm, “Which, I guess that’ll be my job.”

You snicker at his put-out voice but are swiftly distracted when Mihawk rolls the two of you, legs settling on either side of yours as he settles his weight on top of you. The warlord holds himself up on his elbows and then dips to seal his lips to yours in a relieved kiss. If you are feeling well enough to try and get up to feed one of your nosey pets, then you must feel well enough for Dracule to steal a few kisses. He has missed your soft voice and plucky attitude, so hearing it has sent his heart racing, and his hands aching to touch you.

You sigh into the kiss, arms lifting to wind around his neck, and pull him more fully into your embrace. His tongue pushes forward, and Mihawk hums into the kiss when you wrap your lips around the muscle and gently suck. The warlord allows you your fun before he pulls away to nip your lips and press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. He opened his eyes, ringed gaze, and locked onto the redhead who had not left the room.

Shanks watches the older man kiss you. The display is lewd and possessive. He licks his lips and longs to lay back in the bed, to pepper both of his treasures with sweet kisses and words of endearment of his own. He shifts his weight when he watches Mihawk place sweet pecks on your cheeks, and your brow, and the redhead breaks at the display. He doesn’t want to be left out.

Mihawk stops Shanks in his tracks when he lifts himself to his knees, leaving you a panting mess pinned beneath him. He watches in interest as Dracule swings off the bed and stands beside the other man, “I’m going to help him. Neal almost got him last time.”

You share a snicker with Dracule when the redhead pouts dramatically, lip jutting out as he turns on his heel to stock out of the bedroom. Mihawk gives you one last kiss on the brow, and then he follows Shanks out of the bedroom. With both men gone, you take the chance to lope to the bathroom and freshen up before either man can stop you.

Shanks feeds Sukuna and Hank while Mihawk goes outside to take care of Neal and the three chickens. He gets pecked for his trouble and sends a scathing glare at the rooster. He meets Shanks back inside, and the domesticity of the situation hits him when he catches Shanks filling up the kettle and putting it on the stove. Dracule steps in behind him, gathering mugs and tea bags that he sets out on the counter.

There is a peace in the cottage that neither man has felt other than out in the open sea. It brings back the good and the bad memories, ones that the warlord isn’t quite ready yet to acknowledge. However, being around Shanks so much lately has forced Dracule to look back on their own past and the reason behind why it had fallen apart. Could he take that chance again with the younger man now that he has you to mitigate the rough edges that have built up during their time apart?

A quiet curse gets his attention, and Mihawk watches the younger man, who has become distracted by the baked goods that you must have made before your sickness got too bad. Dracule huffs when he sees that one of the most feared pirates on the seas has gotten his hand literally stuck inside of a cookie jar. The fool had shoved his hand inside the too-small jar and turned to Mihawk with a helpless expression.

“You idiot. What would have you done if I weren’t here? Your crew would have never let you live it down,” Dracule snarked at the redhead but closed the distance and reached out to grab the younger man’s wrist.

“Like you’ll ever let me live this down,” The Emperor teases right back, and Dracule thinks that the younger man is too cheeky for his own good.

Shanks is expecting Mihawk to just yank the jar off, but he is surprisingly gentle as he removes the offending item. He cheers quietly when his hand is free, and then he snags Mihawk by the belt loop so that he can lean in and plant his lips on that clean-shaven cheek. He lingers there, waiting to be pushed off, but Dracule doesn’t move an inch.

When Shanks pulls away, he catches sight of the wistful expression that adorns Mihawk’s face for a split second before the older man schools expression once more, and it causes him to frown in concern. Shanks licks lips, his thoughts running as he recalls the past couple of days.

The closeness that the two of them once shared had easily been obtained again, and having you in the middle made it all the better. You were a perfect match for their warring personalities, easily soothing any hurt feelings when the two men went too far. All it took was a sleepy boys, and then two men were backing down like that. It’s only happened a few times these past few days, you needing to step in, but the thought had cemented itself in Shanks’ mind, and he always fought for the things he wanted.

“Mihawk,” Shanks murmurs and inches closer to the other man, angling his head so that he can catch those beautiful ringed eyes, “C’mon, Baby. Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

His lips twist at the pet name, and Dracule sends a sharp glare at Shanks, but he still does not pull away. He surprises himself and Shanks when he leans in, back bowing as he rests his face in the crook of the redhead's neck, hands coming up to grasp his loose, white shirt.

“Can I trust you again?” Mihawk asks softly, and his next words are laced with hurt, “How can I know that you won't turn to the closest pretty smile when things don’t go your way?”

Shanks freezes in his grasp, a tension blanketing the room, and then the redhead steps away from Mihawk with a stern frown on his face. Hurt swims in his eyes, and he raises his hand to wipe at his mouth, collapsing fingers scrubbing at his scruffy face as the pirate thinks about what to say to that. Shanks may have been drunk that evening, but that night was as clear as day for him. He lost his treasure at that dingy bar, after all.

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You sigh as you stand from the tub, grabbing the towel you left hanging on the rack and quickly drying yourself before you catch another cold. Once dry, you dress in a set of soft undergarments and flush at the reminder of the first night you wore the set and the way your warlord peeled it off you.

Mihawk called it lingerie. Whatever that meant, you just liked the way the silky material felt on your skin, and it was modest enough that it covered your stomach and the tops of your thighs. A fluffy robe followed, and you wrapped it close around you, relishing the warmth of the material.

You step out of the bathroom and look around. You could go back to bed, but you can hear speaking in the kitchen, and you are curious. It’s been days since you’ve felt well enough to even walk your own house, so it felt nice to go more than the six feet it took to go from bathroom to bedroom. You slow to a stop just outside the entrance, frozen when you hear it.

“Can I trust you again?” “How can I know that you won't turn to the closest pretty smile when things don’t go your way?”

You swallow harshly, feeling like an intruder in your own home. You don’t know what to do, and you feel too many emotions at once to settle on any of them. You figured that the two men had a past, though not as close as the one that Mihawk could be insinuating. Not that it bothered you, now that you were being forced to acknowledge it. You had no basis on how people outside of your island worked. Happiness was happiness to you. It didn’t matter where it came from.

But had that really happened? Your heart shatters at the hurt in your lover's voice, and you are taking a half step forward before you think better of it. You don’t need to get in the middle of whatever spat the two men were having. You felt like they were more comfortable working this out without you there.

“_, I know you’re out there. Come here,” Shanks calls, but you can hear the underlying order there. He doesn’t expect you to deny him, and you prove him right when you slowly step into the kitchen. You can feel the tension, and it wraps around you like a second skin. Shanks gives you a strained smile, but Mihawk is the one to come to your side and lead you to a chair.

The kettle makes its debut and Dracule busies himself by making tea for himself and his angel. He takes a chanced glance at Shanks, and the other man dips his head in a nod, so Mihawk pours the steaming water into his mug with the lavender tea bag.

“Sorry for interrupting,” You apologize once everyone is settled. Dracule has taken a seat beside you at the kitchen table, and you can’t help but feel like you are in one of your romance novels. Life certainly became exciting after meeting these men, “I can leave for a while? I don’t mind to.”

Shanks smirks at the sincerity in your voice and shakes his head, “No, I think it’s best that both of you hear this. Especially since Mihawk here doesn’t know the full story, either it seems.”

Dracule puffs up like he is about to snap back at the other man, but you raise your hand and give him a look, and the dark-haired man quickly deflates, cowed for now. You put your attention back on Shanks, and the redhead looks even more smitten with the sight of the two of you, and it only cements his decision further.

“Mihawk and I have known each other for a long time. Longer than you’ve been alive, babygirl,” Shanks begins, and it’s then that you realize that Shanks is about to reveal an important part of his and Mihawk’s past. You feel honored to know, but a quick glance at Mihawk has you frowning. The older man looks distinctly uncomfortable, and you butt in before Shanks can continue.

“Is this okay?” You ask Mihawk. You can still recall the day that Dracule had asked you not to ask about his life, that he would reveal to you who he was in time. He was careful that way, and you didn’t want to overstep.

Mihawk looks genuinely surprised at your question, and you watch with growing fondness when you catch a blush across his cheekbones, “Yes. It’s fine. I, too, would like to know what story Shanks is talking about.”

The emperor looks at you for permission to continue, and you nod, sipping your tea. Shanks huffs at his treasures and then begins his story, voice painful but fond, and the redhead as you on the edge of your seat at once.

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A year before Shanks loses his arm, two young men stumble into the first bar, the younger of the two spots. The older man rolls his eyes but eagerly follows after his friend, fingers tangled in the unbuttoned shirt that Shanks wears. It had been ages since Shanks had seen his best friend, and he was eager to catch up.

He bought them drink after drink, and hours later, the two had stumbled away from the bar and ended up in a dark corner of the seedy bar. Mihawk shoved Shanks into the wall, mouthing at his neck as the other man hung on for dear life, hips canting and shameless in his want for Dracule.

Drunk on cheap beer and love for his friend/lover, Shanks blurted out the fateful words that would be the end of their relationship. He had missed the older man so much even though it had only been two weeks since he’d seen Mihawk, but every day the ache in his chest grew and grew until Shanks couldn’t hold it in anymore. He needed Mihawk to know how he felt.

“I love you,” the pirate captain breathes, Join my crew, Mihawk. I love you.”

Shanks’ admission is so soft it’s but a whisper, but Mihawk still hears it. Those wondering hands freeze on Shanks, and the redhead is left, confused and a little hurt when Dracule pulls away from him.

The other man won’t look at him. Ringed eyes downcast and looking anywhere but the younger man. Shanks reaches for the other man, heart seizing up and tears gathering in his eyes when Mihawk takes a half step away, just far enough that Shanks can’t reach him, “Mihawk..?”

Panic had shot through the older man the moment his friend brought up his feelings. Shanks had been the first to break through his walls, bringing them down with a friendly smile and a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Dracule had opened himself up to the other boy, spilling his secrets and his fears, but never once had he tacked an emotion onto what he felt for Shanks. It terrified him to put a label on anything.

“I- I can’t right now, Red,” Mihawk croaked, and then he was gone, coat flapping behind him as he ran away from his friend for the first time in his life. Shanks watches him go, tears streaming down his cheeks and mouth hanging open in disbelief. He slides down the wall, chest torn open as sobs wreak his frame. He doesn’t know how much time has passed when his attention is taken by a pretty lady with dark hair and hazel eyes who grins down at him.

She buys him a drink and Shanks cries on her shoulder, draping himself over the kind lady who coos at him and kindy says that maybe Mihawk just needs some time to come to terms with his own feelings. There is a commotion at the front of the bar, but Shanks is far too drunk to pay much attention, though, and if he had, the pirate would have seen the stricken look on Mihawk’s face before the other man turned and fled.

Mihawk would do his best to avoid Shanks in the coming years, at least until the warlord came upon a boy in a familiar straw hat.

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It’s silent when Shanks finishes his tale, and you find yourself at a loss for words. All of this animosity, and all over a misunderstanding and a man who runs away from his feelings. You don’t have to wait long before Mihawk stands, booted feet loud on the hardwood floor as he strides across the room. He looks furious and heartbroken, all rolled up in a big angsty ball.

“You were all over that woman, and you’re telling me that you didn’t sleep with her?” Mihawk hisses, “You’re taking me for a fool.”

Shanks scoffs, displeasure flashing across his face, “I knew you would never believe me. It’s why I stopped chasing after you when you kept avoiding me. Then you became a warlord, and so much time had passed, that I thought. Why bother?”

The Emperor runs his hand through his hair, making the shaggy locks stand on end. His voice is full of bitter resentment when he continues, “But no, I didn’t sleep with her. I didn’t touch anyone else for a long time. Guess I wanted to make sure that you really meant to stay away.”

Mihawk looks like he’s been struck, and he swallows harshly, taking a step back as his face flushes, brow scrunching as he takes in what the other man is saying. A self-deprecating laugh escapes him. He turns away from Shanks and sits back down, leaning back and pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. With the way his and Shanks’ haki are still intertwined, Darcule can tell that the other man isn't lying. All this time, and it had been him that had been the problem, the fool who couldn't accept the sight of Shanks wrapped around another person. If he had stayed, then maybe their lives would have turned out differently.

A small hand on his shoulder is what gets his attention. You have stood from your seat and rounded the table, standing behind him as your hands settle on his shoulders. You rub the tense muscles, and Mihawk finds himself relaxing under your familiar touch. You kiss the top of his head, lips lingering there for a moment as you lock eyes with Shanks.

The younger man looks distraught, body tense, and you wonder if Shanks will leave now that he has said his piece. You aren't sure what to say, so you decide to keep quiet and stand in silent support of the man who had found you first. To you, both men have been wronged. You just hope that they can work it out for their sake.

Mihawk looks up when he hears the sound of heavy footsteps, and his eyes widen when Shanks sinks to one knee, hand coming up to clutch at Mihawk's hand that sits on his lap. He looks up and catches Mihawk’s gaze, and then your own, “I don't want us to linger on our past, it isn't fair to _, or to us.”

“Even after that night, you have never stopped being one of my precious people, Mihawk, and I would like to give you that title too, Babygirl. If you'd have me.”

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