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forlix · 2 months

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𝐚𝐜𝐞・h.h.

— volleyball superstar and your personal hell hwang hyunjin proposes a trade-off you can't refuse: his matchmaking services for a passing anthropology grade. the plan is foolproof in theory; in practice, it is something else entirely.

words・15.2k

pairing・volleyball player!hyunjin x tutor!reader (gn)

genres・college!au, sports!au, fake enemies to friends to lovers, fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, slice of life, mutual pining, slow burn. two polar opposites sharing one soul. a seungjin fic if u squint. loosely inspired by the manga/anime haikyuu!!

warnings・mentions of anxiety, fear of failure, heartbreak, loneliness, and self-image. course language and callous banter (as always) ft. suggestive flirting and one kms joke. some of the referenced players and coaches are real; this fic is not.

playlist・collision by stray kids・value by ado・waiting for us by stray kids・eternity by bang chan・dreaming by smallpools・fly high!! by burnout syndromes

a/n・writing this felt like returning to my roots tbh. i love volleyball and i love sports aus and i love, love hwang hyunjin. thank u to my sahar for bringing this fic to life with me, as always; i can no longer write for him without also writing for you. i hope u guys enjoy reading this as much as i adored writing it. happy late birthday, our jinnie, our hyunjin, our forever ace; you are so unbelievably loved ♡

“Not a word out of you,” you say, tossing your backpack onto the floor of the lecture hall with a heavy-handed flick. “I’m serious.”

Hyunjin glances up at you with a frown. “When did people stop saying good morning?”

Your lack of an immediate comeback tells him the situation is dire. He observes you for a moment, his mouth falling open, hanging still, then curving into a slow, serpentine smile.

“Look at me.”

“No.”

“Look at me.”

“No.”

“Please, angel.”

“No! Leave me alone.”

Hyunjin slumps back into his seat, thinking hard. The solution occurs to him with a poke of his tongue into his cheek. “Coffee on me for a week.”

At this, your hands stop rummaging in your bag. You cock your head, your interest piqued. Got you.

When you finally humor him and turn around, you’re flinching like you’re in pain, eyes closed and breath held and all. He giggles and leans in for a closer look. Tendrils of your body spray reach him from here, floral and light like a tropical coastline. He could’ve counted your eyelashes if he wasn’t so flummoxed by the state of your forehead.

“What the hell did you do?”

“Tried to cut my own bangs,” you sigh. “It didn’t go very well and now I look like Rock Lee.”

Hyunjin lets out a forceful laugh. “You’ve seen Naruto?”

You open your eyes. Only then does Hyunjin remember how little distance he left between your faces, when he’s staring straight into them and all the strange, starry speckles they hold.

The air between you curdles like sour milk.

Things are awkward between you often, he’s realized recently. What’s more, he didn’t think he was capable of being awkward with anyone anymore until he met you. It was your ill-fated seat that he chose to sit next to on the first day of ANTH 111, your ill-fated lap onto which he chose to spill his Americano, and the rest was history (or, in this case, anthropology). His tongue ends up in sailor’s knots with every smart-aleck comment and pitiful laugh you’ve given him since. Maybe there’s more to it, maybe there isn’t—Hyunjin doesn’t think about it much. He doesn’t like thinking in general.

You pull away from each other in unison. You clear your throat, glancing elsewhere.

“Of course I’ve seen Naruto,” you quip, and everything is normal again. “Why do you seem surprised?”

“Because you’re so scholarly.”

“I am not scholarly.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You go to a park to play chess with old people on weekends.”

“I need to get my steps in somehow.”

“You didn’t know what Urban Dictionary was until I told you to look up—”

“God, I learned so much about you that day."

“Your favorite social media platform is Quizlet,” he bursts, exasperated. “Quizlet.”

“It is not.” An introspective pause. “Or is it?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Hyunjin throws his feet up on the chair below him, jabs in your direction with a bandaged finger. “There is no way you enjoy watching 2D men beat each other up in your free time. I don’t buy it.”

“Honestly, I thought you’d have more to say about my current appearance than my hobbies.”

He does, though. Matter of fact, he’s been curating a list since this conversation started: Vector from Despicable Me, Dora the Explorer’s hot older sibling, Spock. You face-planted into a lawnmower. You mistook a paper shredder for a hat. It goes on.

But then his head turns. Your eyes meet again. He’s reminded that it’s hard to sustain an inner monologue and look at you at the same time, Vector resemblance and all.

He reaches up, nudges a lock of your hair over a centimeter or so, and gives the patch of forehead a gentle flick.

“Watermelon,” he mumbles with a sickening smile.

You divert your attention to your lecture notes with a disappointed click of your tongue. “You’re getting soft.”

He spends the entire lecture daydreaming about tropical coastlines.

“I only get coffee from that one place on the east side of campus, by the way,” you say as you’re strolling out the building together, “and I get it a very specific way. Can you handle it?”

“Your faith gets me out of bed in the morning,” Hyunjin deadpans. “I’ll handle it, love. Text me your order.”

All of a sudden, you position your hands close to your stomach, the lapels of your jacket casting them in shadow. Your fingers begin to move in a sequence that he’d recognize anywhere.

“Body flicker jutsu,” you whisper, and then you’re scurrying off without another word—but you do glance back at him to gauge his response. Your smile is purely effulgent, your laugh but a faint sigh against the main quad’s busy thrum.

Hyunjin gapes at your retreating figure for so long that phosphenes start prancing around his field of view. Then he heads to the gym. His heart is pounding against his ribs like a battering ram.

“Hwang, I need you in my office.”

Hyunjin stops lacing up his shoes to see Coach Bang standing on the court’s sideline with a grim air about him. He glances at his captain, confused.

“Don’t look at me,” Minho says mid-stretch. “Godspeed.”

“Thanks, cap.” Useless.

Head volleyball coach Christopher Bang’s workspace reminds Hyunjin of a morgue. It’s all fluorescent lights and spotless white walls, the only decorative fixture a picture of his siblings, parents, and dog in front of the Sydney Opera House, framed and facing him atop his desk. Hyunjin once snuck the thing into the bathroom, an innocent plot to satiate his curiosity, and promptly discovered the man’s propensity for violence. He’s packing beneath those dry-cleaned polos, by the way.

Hyunjin closes the door and takes a seat. Bang taps a knuckle against the tempered glass of his monitor. “You can read, right?”

“Yes, coach,” he sighs. Everyone’s expectations for him are subterranean.

From: Park Jinyoung «[email protected]» To: Bang “Christopher” Chan «[email protected]» Subject: Not good See email from Hwang’s antopology professor below . He submitted the complete script of the Trolls movie instead of his mid term paper and now he’s failing the class . Not good . Sort out ASAP JP Sent from my iPad

Bang snatches up his mouse and scrolls, his ears turning scarlet. “Wrong email.”

“Yep.”

From: Kim Kyeyoung «[email protected]» To: Park Jinyoung «[email protected]» Subject: Regarding Hwang Hyunjin To Director of Athletics Park, I am writing to inform you that, as of yesterday, Mr. Hwang Hyunjin has a D- (64.9%) in ANTH 111: Cultural Anthropology, due to his submission of the complete script of a kids’ movie instead of his midterm paper. It is disappointing to see Mr. Hwang trivialize and ridicule my class to such a degree. Please see to it that he reorganizes his priorities lest his Student-Athlete Participation Agreement do so for him. Regards, Kim Kyeyoung Professor of Anthropology

“That’s bullshit!”

“We’re in agreement there.” Bang folds his arms over his chest, throws his foot over his knee. “Do you know what your Student-Athlete Participation Agreement says?”

“Does anyone?” Hyunjin scoffs. Bang whips out a form and brings it to eye level, the thing covered from top to bottom in microscopic Times New Roman. “No way you just had that.”

“I had it delivered ten minutes ago,” Bang confesses, then clears his throat and begins to recite. “All student-athletes must complete the academic term with a C or higher in all courses, should they wish to continue their participation in athletics thereafter.”

Hyunjin stiffens. “What the fuck? I’ve never heard—”

“If any Department of Athletics personnel,” Bang continues, raising his voice, “have reason to believe that a student-athlete will not be able to satisfy this requirement, they are encouraged to utilize resources such as academic advising or peer tutoring in guiding said student-athlete back onto the correct path.”

He shoves the piece of paper across his desk. “Read that name aloud for me.”

Hyunjin stares at the signature at the bottom of the page, scrawled so carelessly that most of it deviates away from its designated line. There is a rare hollowness in his chest that he recognizes as anxiety. With it comes a glimpse of a life without volleyball, the question of what little of him would remain.

“Hwang Hyunjin,” he says under his breath.

The office goes silent. Bang tucks the form back into his drawer. It closes with a gentle click.

Then comes the yelling.

“The Trolls movie? Trolls?! Are you fucking with me, Hwang?”

“It was a cultural reset! The pinnacle of modern media! How’s that for anthropology?”

“BAD!” Bang explodes, gesturing to the email emphatically. “VERY, VERY BAD!”

Hyunjin slumps over, dejected.

“You’ve never had trouble with school before.” He leans over his desk imposingly. “What the hell happened this semester? What changed?”

Nothing is the first answer that comes to mind, but Hyunjin’s pulse spikes like a lie detector. Upon the inside of his eyes replays a scene of a certain someone with watermelon bangs doing teleportation jutsu at him from a few yards away, wearing a smile made of some kind of space dust that astronomists haven’t discovered yet.

He grits his teeth, annoyed. This is what happens when he thinks.

“Beats me,” he fibs. “Typical junior year stress, maybe.”

“Does any of it have to do with Piazza?”

Hyunjin shudders.

It just might, actually.

Modesty has no place in the career he’s had: high school national champion turned ace hitter in both the South Korean U21 roster and regular rotation for Seoul National University, the best collegiate volleyball team in the country. His name has lived at the top of ranking lists and the center of gold medals since he turned old enough to qualify for them; the press believes him the instigant of South Korea’s imminent volleyball revolution. It’s a mouthful, he knows.

It was never a question that he would go professional; the question was who he should talk to and where he would go.

At the start of the school year, Bang, acting in place of the agent he was advised to find and never bothered to, gave him a list of people to reach out to. On the very top was none other than Roberto Piazza, the chairman and head coach of Allianz Milano, one of the most eminent club teams in the world—and current home to Hyunjin’s personal idol, outside hitter Ishikawa Yuki.

Hyunjin thought his poor coach had finally succumbed to his old age. The thought of stepping onto the same court as Ishikawa felt sacrilegious, let alone donning the red, white, and navy blue of Allianz Milano with him. But Bang slapped him on the back of the neck and reminded him that going professional was equal parts preparation and opportunity; he was never going to know the answers to questions he didn’t ask. Hyunjin was coerced to fire off an introductory email despite his reservations.

Piazza replied within the week.

For the last five months, Hyunjin has been fighting with tooth and nail to manage his expectations. He scrolls past the team’s social media posts like they burn his eyes. He replies to Piazza’s emails right before working out with Changbin under the assumption that whatever the shredded libero does to him will eviscerate his brain. If his world is made of dreams, this is the one at its very core, imbued with destructive potential the second it became attainable.

But that’s the last five months. The last five weeks have been you kicking him in the shin because he’s laughing (or trying to make you laugh) and the professor is staring; you listening to him rant and rave about volleyball when he knows you couldn’t care less about the sport; you relaying the contents of your class readings like hot gossip, your eyes wild and hands flying around because you can’t contain your excitement. You, you, you.

He cards a hand through his air, regaining focus. “You know how I feel about Piazza.”

“Expect the worst, hope for the best.” Bang’s chair skids backwards as he stands up. “I think it’s a good approach.”

Suddenly, he is directly in front of Hyunjin, low enough to meet his eyes. His hands rest upon his shoulders firmly.

“But hope is hungry, and it will consume you if you let it,” he says. “Do not let it, Hyunjin. I’m not asking.”

Even while being squeezed to a pulp and regarded with the cold intensity of a statue, Hyunjin can’t help but feel anchored, somehow, to the floor of this miserable office. Protected.

Bang lets go of him. “I’m not asking you to find a tutor by the end of the week, either.”

Hyunjin groans. “Yeah, yeah. I’m on it.”

A set of bandaged fingers appear in your periphery to place a paper cup onto your laptop. Accompanying the smell of fresh coffee is that of smoky rose, as decidedly douchey as ever.

“I thought you said your order was complicated.”

You look up from your phone to see Hyunjin plop into the adjacent seat. His long, caramel-colored hair is damp and unstyled in the aftermath of a morning shower, droplets of water pearling on the lapels of a navy blue windbreaker, layered over a white long sleeve. You recognize the outfit by now as game gear.

“Was it not?” You ask.

“It was an Americano, love. I walked up to the cashier and placed an order for an Americano.”

“Well, I wasn’t sure if you could handle that much.” He flips you off as you squint at the cup. “Someone wrote their number on the lid, by the way.”

“What? Really?”

“No.”

He shoves you hard enough for your upper body to drape over the opposite armrest; you’re still cackling by the time you’ve straightened up again.

“Why did you get this, anyway?” Hyunjin grumbles. “I thought you had a sweet tooth.”

“I do, but you don’t.”

Only then does the fool understand that you had no intention of charging him in coffee just for a haircut reveal. He takes back the coffee hesitantly.

“Thanks,” he says at last. “Nice of you.”

“I know, right? Hated it,” you respond, and he almost chokes on his first sip.

You almost choke on nothing when Kim Seungmin materializes in the aisle adjacent. He holds out a hand in Hyunjin’s direction. “Yo.”

Hyunjin dabs it up mid-sip. “I fully forgot you were in this class.”

“Well, I’m due for my weekly appearance.” Seungmin slips into the seat directly below you, glancing at you over his shoulder. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Hi,” you say, somehow managing to stumble over the single syllable the word has. You thank your lucky stars that you fixed your hair yesterday.

You like Kim Seungmin. Not just in the cutesy, crushy way, but in the “I would relinquish all of my rights for you” way where you spend every waking moment cursing out whatever stroke of misfortune placed Hyunjin in the seat next to you instead of him. He’s funny, gorgeous, and talented—a vocal performance major with a student-athlete contract—and you think your infatuation is more than justified. Hyunjin thinks it’s hilarious.

You side-eye your blonde adversary, prepared to see one of three things: a suppressed laugh, a dramatic eye-roll, or a mature kissy face that usually results in the first option. You’re met with something far more worrisome.

He’s thinking.

That can’t be good.

Suddenly, his phone screen lights up with a text that temporarily wipes the conspiratorial gleam from his eye. Hyunjin scans it over and groans. “Can this guy do his fucking job?”

“He wouldn’t have to if you didn’t quit,” Seungmin answers. “I’ll never forget you, Manager Hwang.”

“Shut up.” You peer at Hyunjin, silently requesting an explanation. “Our captain is forcing us to help him look for a new team manager. We need one for playoffs because of some stupid U-League rule—Seung, why do you look morose?”

“I’m mourning.” Seungmin does look morose indeed. “Hyunjin committed larceny last year and our coach punished him by making him our team manager for the rest of the season. It was so funny.”

Hyunjin slides down his seat. “It was the worst experience of my life.”

Neither man seems inclined to elaborate on the mention of larceny. You choose to digress. “Can I ask why?”

“He had to be responsible,” Seungmin whispers. “For other people.”

The top of Hyunjin’s head stops right next to your armrest. You reach over and pat his hair in faux sympathy. “Poor thing.”

“Hardass refused to do it again this year, so now we’re recruiting.” Seungmin props an elbow upon the back of his chair, looks at you contemplatively. “I don’t suppose you have four hours to spare every day.”

Hyunjin scoffs from below you. Loudly. “This one? Team manager?”

“I can see it.”

“I can see killing myself, maybe.”

The next time you reach for him is to hit his forehead. A crisp smack resounds around the barren lecture hall. Hyunjin cusses into his seat cushion.

“Seems like a great candidate to me,” Seungmin muses, and the warm smile he gives you mirrors onto your face before you can think better of it. God, it’s pretty. You wonder how it would feel pressed against your own.

Hyunjin is now completely out of sight and halfway onto the floor. “I miss when you didn’t come to class, Seungmin.”

Eighty minutes later, you’ve just emerged from the classroom when Seungmin calls out to you. You come to such a sudden halt that Hyunjin almost trips over you, but you barely notice him stumble, utterly enraptured by the hand Seungmin brings to the strands of hair by your ear, the fingers that dust your cheek as they pluck a small piece of lint from out of the tresses.

“Sorry.” He flicks it away with a sheepish smile. “I couldn’t unsee it.”

You manage to thank him just before your whole body ceases to function. Hyunjin sidesteps the two of you, yawning.

Seungmin excuses himself not too long after you reach the main quad. You also turn to leave, sparing Hyunjin a curt farewell in the process. He hooks his pointer finger around the handle at the top of your backpack and lugs you backwards with infuriating ease.

“I didn’t like that at all,” you say.

“I don’t care. I have something to tell you.”

“You have a kid, don’t you?”

“Wha—huh? Who do you think I am?”

“The one-night-stand’s poster child. The champion of the contraception industry.”

“Yeah, contraception industry. It’s right there in the name.”

You can’t argue with that. “What do you have to tell me?”

A shadow of hesitation flits across Hyunjin’s face. Your smile falters. Is it possible that you’re about to have a serious conversation with him for the first time? Maybe you should’ve saved the secret son bit for another time.

“I’m failing anthro.”

So much for a serious conversation.

“Come again?”

He repeats the mystifying statement.

“You’re joking.” The look on his face says otherwise, though, and your eyebrows disappear into your hair. “You’re failing anthro?”

“I just said that, yes.”

“You’re failing anthropology?”

“Mhm.”

“Just so we’re clear—you’re failing Introduction to Cultural Anthropology?”

“Yes. I’m glad you’re having fun.”

This is the best day of your life. “I didn’t even know that was possible.”

“Yeah, well, our professor has no media literacy,” he mutters.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Hyunjin clears his throat. “Anyways, I was thinking—”

“Wow! Congratulations. That’s a big—oomf—”

Hyunjin puts his entire hand over your face. Your mangled noises of protest go unacknowledged.

“I was thinking,” he continues, pushing your head around like a stick shift, “you and I can work out some kind of deal.”

You shove his wrist off you with a revolted groan. “I think I just ate some athletic tape.”

“Happens. You wanna hear the deal or not?”

“Does it involve ingesting more sports equipment?”

“Do you want it to?”

“Just tell me the deal, boy.”

“Alright.” He takes a deep breath. “If you help me pass this class, I’ll set you up with Seungmin.”

Your head performs a triple-axel on your neck. You are unable to respond for what feels like multiple hours. Finally: “I’m gonna need you to elaborate.”

“On which part?”

“All of them. Everything.”

Hyunjin sighs, then scans the courtyard. His gaze settles on the student union a little ways off. “Are you hungry?”

You pick up a sandwich and a smoothie in a state of nervous stupor. One would think it’s the prime minister you’re about to have lunch with and not an imbecilic left-side hitter eating from three different entrees at the same time.

He’s chosen a table a few yards away from a planter of flowering cherry blossom trees. You feel jealous eyes on the side of your face as you take a seat across from Hyunjin, but they don’t know that his telephone pole legs still bump against yours even with them drawn as close to your body as anatomically possible. Or that he’s drawing up a literal Ponzi scheme on your sandwich wrapper. You wager you’ve had better company.

“You like anthropology. I like listening to you talk about anthropology.” He traces over the wrapper’s left corner. “And I kinda want you to boss me around. That weird?”

“Yes, definitely,” you mumble around a mouthful of bread. “Go on.”

“Conclusion one: you should be my tutor.” He taps in place as if applying a finishing touch, then swaps to the opposite side. “You also like my teammate, but he’s neck-deep in volleyball and music this semester, which makes him hard to get a hold of—for most people.”

“Let me guess. Not for you.”

“Ten points to Ravenclaw.” His British accent is nightmarish. “Seung and I live in the same building. We get dinner when we go back from practice together. Conclusion two: you should come with us.”

“To dinner or to practice?”

“To both. Which brings us to my third and final conclusion—”

He slams a fist onto the center of the wrapper.

“—you should manage our team.”

“I knew it!” You slam the table as well, your smoothie wobbling upon impact. “You’re trying to swindle me! You can’t pay for my labor with more labor. What do you take me for?”

“It’s not labor, dumbass! Ask our last manager! He didn’t do shit!”

“Yeah? Who was your last manager?”

“Me!”

Oh, right. “But you hated it!”

“I hate everything that isn’t playing volleyball. Try again.”

You fold your arms over your chest. “You said you’d kill yourself if I managed you.”

Hyunjin starts balling up your sandwich wrapper. “It’s true. I thought about you and my coach getting along and promptly got a rash. But it makes so much sense: you do whatever you want during practice, tutor me afterwards, and then you and Seung can eyefuck over ramen or something. My coach hops off my dick, you hop on Seung’s—”

“STOP!” A girl drops her receipt not too far away, startled by your outburst. “Stop right there. I get it. Stop.”

“It’s a good plan.” He slings the paper ball towards the nearest trash can. It drops into the hole without so much as a brush against the rim. “You know it is.”

You’re loath to admit that you do. “When did you even come up with all this?”

He flicks a thumb in the direction of your anthropology class. No fucking wonder he’s failing.

“What is this, mock trial?”

The owner of this voice is the third man you’ve seen today donning that navy windbreaker, white long-sleeve combo. He has a face that reminds you of your neighbor’s cat from back home, sleek and sharp and only slightly sinister. There’s a dash of humor in his expression as he approaches your table like he’s enjoying the company of a court jester.

“Slamming tables like fuckin’ tariff lawyers,” the cat-man hums, lifting a hand in Hyunjin’s direction. “I could see it from all the way inside.”

“Captain!” Hyunjin crows, dabbing him up without missing a beat. They really do that like breathing. “Just the man I was hoping to see.”

“Really? I thought you’d be avoiding me like the rest of our homunculus team.”

“I would never.”

“You did. Yesterday. When you saw me and started running in the opposite direction.” He pauses for emphasis. “As fast as possible.”

“Well, that was yesterday. Today is a new day.” Hyunjin tosses you a proud glance. “And today, I bring you a new team manager.”

You stiffen. “I haven’t—”

“Is that so!” When the stranger smiles at you, you feel the same satisfaction you did every time the cat let you scratch her on the chin. “Music to my ears. What’s your name, cutie?”

You catch Hyunjin’s eye across the table; he nods enthusiastically as if saying go on, then. You briefly picture yourself strangling him with his own athletic tape. You then picture yourself hopping on Seungmin’s—

Rigidly, you throw a hand out to the cat-man, your face aflame.

“Y/N,” you grumble. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”

He shakes on it heartily. “Likewise. I’m Minho. Welcome to the team.”

“Yes, welcome to the team,” Hyunjin parrots, looking positively jolly. You gnash your teeth together so hard your jaw throbs.

He’s lucky that his proposal holds so much water. He’s lucky that you don’t plan to strangle him until after you try that eyefucking thing.

You do kick him under the table, though.

The team has five weeks to prepare for the Korean University League, the biggest college-level volleyball tournament in the country. You have five days to learn how the hell athletic tape works. You can’t tell which is the bigger endeavor.

“I’m going to cause him irreversible skeletal damage,” you tell Changbin.

The team’s libero is twice as kind as he is talented, a full-time sweetheart working part-time at the university’s sports medicine clinic. Only your first week on the job and you’ve already decided he’s the only person on Earth you would permit to usher you through the gym at 6:45 A.M., a roll of athletic tape pressed to your back like a pistol.

“You will not,” Changbin answers. “One, because this won’t involve his skeleton, and two, because I wouldn’t ask you to help if it did.”

“You’ve misunderstood me,” you return as the two of you stop in front of an examination room. “I want to cause him irreversible skeletal damage.”

“Oh.” He opens the door with a frown. “Oh dear.”

Inside, Hyunjin is sitting cross-legged on top of a taping table, fitted in a loose gray tee and athletic shorts. He watches in pessimistic silence as you enter the room and beeline straight towards the shelf on the right. You slip a thick binder into your hands and bury your nose inside it without so much as a greeting.

“I am going to get maimed,” Hyunjin tells Changbin.

“Have some faith, both of you,” Changbin replies sternly. You find the pages you’re looking for and begin poring over them like you’re cramming for an exam. “You’ll be fine, Jinnie. Y/N studied.”

“Studied?” He repeats. “For this?”

“I’m pretty sure Quizlets were made.”

“Three, to be exact," you interject, sticking out your hand. “Now tape me.”

Hyunjin mouths the words tape me in baffled silence. The latter obliges your request with a smile. “See? What could go wrong?”

The answer to that, actually, is a lot. Especially after Changbin gets called away to help stretch out a teammate named Felix who allegedly “sprained his ass,” leaving Hyunjin to you and your binder.

You detect no smoky rose in the air around him today, just the subtle smells of cedar and cypress—laundry detergent or shampoo, maybe. Figures he doesn’t wear that insufferable cologne to practice.

“Go easy on me, yeah?”

While Hyunjin’s tone is teasing, yours is downright somber.

“I can’t promise anything.”

With that, you turn your palms face-up in a silent request for his hand.

A few strands of hair fall into your face as you lean in for a better look. It’s the first time you’ve seen his fingers untaped; they’re pretty, long and slender and surprisingly manicured, but also battered in their delicacy, the veins running over the back of his hand and forearm prominent, his bottom knuckles discolored from the healing bruises they bear. His hard work is palpable upon the smooth skin as evidently as if tattooed.

Hyunjin says your name in close proximity. You respond with an absent hum.

“You’re not nervous, are you?”

“No. Maybe a little.” You let his hand fall free and go to rummage for supplies. “Fine, yes. Very.”

“But you made Quizlets. You’re prepared for anything.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” You realize only after spotting the gentle smile on his face that he’s making fun of you. “I hate you.”

“Actually,” he hums, “I think you care about me, love. That’s why you’re nervous.”

“Nonsense—I care about disappointing Changbin. That’s it.”

“And me. And hopping on Seungmin’s dick. All these things don’t have to be mutually exclusive.”

You try to tackle him. Hyunjin catches your hands a few inches away from his face, fingers closing around your wrists with obnoxious agility.

“Have you lost your mind?” You whisper-shout, your face on fire. “Don’t bring that up here. I’ll maim you for real.”

The laugh that explodes out of him throws his entire body backwards, turns his eyes to crescent moons and his mouth into a little rectangle. You hate that you don’t hate when that happens.

“My bad, my bad. It slipped out. I won’t—”

One incremental shift of Hyunjin’s body later, you find that you’re precariously, alarmingly close to one another.

So much so that you notice the mole beneath his left eye for the first time, that you're nearly cross-eyed looking at it. That the tip of your nose actually brushes against his before you pull away with a quiet intake of breath.

Things are awkward between you often, you’ve realized recently. You’re both professional yappers, always quick to digress, quick to find a new topic to bicker about before the awkwardness marinates. But hours later you’ll look back on the interaction and still remember how the air shifted: like a layer of dust had been blown away and something untouched and unknown was discovered just underneath.

Since you’ve met him, Hyunjin has spent more time on your nerves than on your mind. You’re not exactly losing sleep over such a circumstantial acquaintance; you know that his presence in your life will end the way it began, naturally and anticlimactically and inside the ANTH 111 lecture hall. Still, it doesn’t go unnoticed when your heart and stomach launch into an elaborate gymnastics routine in the wake of something he says or does, just as they’re doing now.

Hyunjin glances into your right eye a moment, then your left. The mole just below his left eye disappears when he smiles, the expression soft, saccharine, and sincere. How anyone casually looks the way he does is beyond your abilities of comprehension.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

Your face continues to burn, now perhaps for different reasons. “What for?”

He lets go of your wrist, sweeps the lock of hair that keeps getting in your eyes behind the cuff of your ear.

“Caring about me.”

Then he flicks your forehead. You recoil with a quiet ow.

“Now stop stalling and tape me, dumbass.”

“Okay,” you mutter, rubbing the injury tenderly. “No need to get violent.”

It turns out the arduous taping procedure described in the instruction manual is for serious hand injuries. Hyunjin splints his fingers together for support, not rehabilitation, so it takes all of five minutes for him to talk you through his process. You finish taping both of his hands with nineteen minutes to spare. So maybe the Quizlets were overkill.

As you’re walking him down to practice, you take his hand and lift it to eye level, scanning your craftsmanship dubiously. “It’s not too tight, is it?”

“It’s perfect.” He swivels the hand around and grabs onto your entire face, the sensation by now eerily familiar. “Want another taste?”

You shove him down the stairs that remain. Unfortunately, there are only two. “You are truly grotesque.”

The gym has come to life since you arrived earlier this morning, now illuminated by shining ceiling lights in addition to the sun spilling through high, narrow windows. Most of the team has yet to step onto the court, still stretching or jogging along the sidelines: Minho and Coach Bang are talking strategy on the bench, the coach taking notes on a handheld whiteboard every now and then; Changbin is leaning over a recumbent Felix below the scoreboard, presumably trying to fix his ass.

The only one already with a ball in hand is Seungmin, setting to himself by the net. Once, twice, thrice straight up in the air, and then he glances in your direction and sends the fourth towards the left side of the court in a buoyant arc.

You only glean bits and pieces of the next few seconds. Hyunjin is at your side one moment, making a break for the net the next. His arms draw backwards in perfect synchrony. Feet hit the floor with laserlike intent. His entire body unravels like a fraying chrysalis as he rises to meet the ball, pounds it over the net and into the ground at an angle so clean that the sound of its landing resounds within your ribcage. It rebounds over the railing of the second floor and barely misses the doorway of the examination room you just emerged from.

Hyunjin drops lightly back onto his feet, following the ball’s tumultuous trajectory with proud eyes. A leftover breeze tosses a strand of hair over the bridge of your nose, and time starts moving again.

“Oi, this isn’t your backyard! Go pick that up!” Their coach booms, though his words lack their usual bitterness after what he just witnessed his ace hitter do.

Hyunjin swivels towards Seungmin first. “Crazy bitch. What the fuck was that?”

“Lower and faster. Further from the net too,” Seungmin returns. “How’d it feel?”

The grin on Hyunjin’s face reminds you of a wildfire, untamed and all-consuming and frightening in its fervor. “Like we just won everything.”

He tousles your hair as he jogs past you and back up the stairs to fetch the volleyball. Seungmin waves at you with one hand and palms another ball into his other. His face is warm and bare, his slim build flattered by his volleyball gear. You’ve witnessed few people so nice to look at and even fewer things as elegant as his setting form. But you are still thinking about Hyunjin—and you can’t move.

It is debilitating, watching somebody do the very thing they were destined for.

A little less than a week later, Hyunjin is approaching hour three of spewing hot garbage into a Word document when he decides to give up and call you.

“Hello?” He immediately starts laughing. “Where the fuck are you?”

You poke the top of your head into the shot of your ceiling, gesturing to your headband. “My face is preoccupied at the moment.”

“Oh, you have to show me. Please.”

You flip your phone up for no more than half a second. A camera shutter goes off, followed by a shriek so loud that it peaks your mic.

“Motherfucker!”

He basically sprints to his camera roll. His prize: you with your face slathered in cleanser, hair pinned back by a Miffy headband, looking like the abominable snowman if he liked cute merchandise.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly. “I’ll treasure this forever.”

“You’ll be punished, Hwang.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

You brandish your middle finger at him in response. He props his phone up against his computer screen with a chuckle.

“Aaanyways, I have a thesis statement to run by you.”

The first thing you did as Hyunjin’s tutor was help draft an email to Professor Kim, begging her to let him resubmit the two essays he royally botched. She replied with a lengthy quotation from her syllabus, specifically the section that talked about (and prohibited) resubmissions, but ended up making an exception for Hyunjin on account of the “truly piteous timbre” of his email. You fell out of your chair laughing when he read you her response.

“You should’ve opened with that.”

“I tried, hello? Someone distracted me!”

“Read. It. Before I change my mind.”

You spend a few minutes at most on the thesis itself, advising him to avoid passive voice, answer the prompt, establish a refutable argument, the works. Then he asks you a question about the research topic itself, allusions to the afterlife in Ancient Egyptian artwork, and the tutoring session takes a turn into what feels like a podcast episode.

You talk about the God of Death, Anubis, and his connections to the underworld; the elaborate, lavish funerary rituals intended to ensure the souls of the dead traveled safely; the vibrant murals that flanked their final resting spots as pictorial requests for divine protection. And you talk about them all with such confidence, such eloquence, that it’s as if you’re leading him through a history museum rather than talking to your phone as you do your skincare. He could listen to you for hours. He does, actually.

Around 1 A.M., Hyunjin stops typing mid-sentence when you come into frame for the first time, collapsing into your bed with a sigh of relief. Your eyes are soft and sleepy as they blink at your screen, strands of damp hair clinging to your cheeks. He feels his heart physically shift inside his ribcage when your mouth stretches into a yawn. It is the same sensation as the time you shot him a smile over your shoulder and he couldn’t move for ten minutes.

With that, his attention span has run its course.

“Baby,” he interrupts gently. “Let’s stop here, okay? You seem tired.”

You open your mouth as if to protest, only to yawn again.

“I suppose I am. Will you keep working tonight?”

“I think so. I hit my stride.”

“Text me if you have questions, then. I’ll respond when I wake up.”

“Okay.”

Your lips curve into the smallest of smiles. It copies onto Hyunjin’s face incurably quickly.

“I had my doubts about this tutoring thing, you know.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, you told me this class was the closest thing to daily naptime you’d experienced since preschool.”

“It really is.”

“You also told me you would rather slam your tongue in a car door than read more than three sentences in one sitting.”

“I really would.”

“And you once referred to academia as ‘Virgin Village.’”

“Didn’t you come up with that?”

“No, hello? I live in that village.”

He grins. “I know. I just wanted to hear you admit it.”

“Fuck you.”

“Ah, don’t threaten me with a good—”

“What I’m trying to say is that I didn’t think you would take this seriously, but I’m happy to be proven wrong.”

Hyunjin leans back. “Well, turns out I might give a fuck about anthropology after all.”

“Really?”

“No.”

You pretend to punch him through the screen. It’s so cute that he forgets to think before he opens his mouth next.

“But I do give a fuck about you.”

There’s nothing crazy about the statement. You’re friends, sort of. You manage his team. It would be strange if he didn’t. But the seconds that follow are terrible, a silent prophecy of something disastrous, like a cloud of rubble before an avalanche, the standstill during a star’s final breath. And Hyunjin’s heartbeat is hounding against his ears like a performance of traditional taiko.

He says good night in a haste. The call ends. He stares at the wall of his bedroom in a muddled haze for who knows how long.

Then he opens his texts.

Hyunjin: We have team bonding tomorrow btw Hyunjin: Don’t forget Y/N: i forgot. Y/N: pick me up at 6:45? Hyunjin: 🫡

He picks you up at 7:53.

You approach his car with your fists balled and your eyebrows knitted together like a mean old curmudgeon and he’s walking too close to your lawn.

“His fault,” Hyunjin says before you start yelling.

Minho simpers at you through his open window. “Hey, you! So glad you could join us!”

You fix the man with a judgmental glare as you slide into the backseat. “Aren’t you the captain? Why are you this late?”

“Whoa, okay. I would’ve scheduled this for earlier if I knew right now was honesty hour.”

“You did schedule it for earlier,” you say. “You scheduled it for way earlier.”

“Yeah, well, you’re fired.”

“You can’t fire me, Minho.”

“I can too. Tell ‘em, Hwang.”

“I want nothing to do with this.”

When you step through the doors of the arcade, you’re met with a surge of sensory input that you haven’t experienced in years. The air hangs thick with the smells of greasy concessions; everywhere you look are flashing screens and neon signs, stuffed animals and fading posters; clamoring against your ears are the sounds of games being won or lost, of balls being pocketed or launched, and of a horde of fully grown men spectating a match of Dance Dance Revolution so passionately (and loudly) that they’ve scared everyone away from that side of the room. You recognize the current competitors as Changbin and Jeongin.

“I’ll go pay,” Hyunjin says. “How much time do we want?”

“Infinity,” Minho answers. Hyunjin doesn’t move. “Two hours.”

He flashes him a thumbs-up. “And you?”

“I’m okay, I think.”

“No you’re not,” the two men answer in perfect unison.

You glance between them warily. “I don’t mind watching, seriously. I don’t even know how most of these games work—”

“There’s Tetris,” Hyunjin cuts in.

You purchase an hour.

One would imagine the point of the evening is to break the SNU men’s volleyball team, not to bond them. You’ve never seen so many strained blood vessels in your life. Nor have you heard of half the insults they spew at each other as the night goes on. Felix has to pay a fee for lodging an air hockey puck in the side of the MarioKart machine. Changbin loses at skee-ball and has to down an XL slushie like it’s a shot. It’s a scary amount of boyishness expressed in scary ways.

But they’re happy. You’ve picked up on it when they’re on the court, noticed the raw elation they emanate just from playing together. Yet, their closeness has never been more evident to you than tonight. The men are either laughing or making someone else laugh, arms draped over each other at all times, equally happy to celebrate victories as they’re eager to punish losses. It dawns on you at some point that you’re glad to be here with them, grateful to be a part of something so special—especially because there’s Tetris.

“Have you ever considered going pro?” Hyunjin asks over your shoulder.

You waited until most of the team was distracted to slink off to your beloved machine. Hyunjin tagged along, undoubtedly with the intention of making fun of you, only to be rendered speechless by your mastery. He’s been watching in a state of stupor, forearms propped against the back of your chair.

You don’t respond for a while, too focused on a precarious patch to even blink, let alone partake in conversation.

“I already did,” you finally answer.

“Sorry, what? You played professional Tetris?”

“In middle school. Then I got bored and switched to backgammon.” You pause. “Then I got bored again and switched to chess.”

“How do you look like this with these hobbies?”

Your run ends a few minutes later with a somber sound effect. You turn around in your seat with an anguished groan. “I think I’m washed.”

He looks at you like you’ve lost your mind. “You just set a new record by three hundred thousand points.”

“It’s a small pond,” you say, and an idea occurs to you. “Do you wanna try?”

“I get the feeling I don’t have a choice.”

“Then you’re smarter than you look.”

“Well, you look—”

His eyes move between your shoes and your face, and then his voice is an inaudible mutter as he sinks into your seat. You think you hear something along the lines of unfair.

“What was that?”

“Ugly. I said you look ugly.” He cracks his knuckles. “Now let’s break some fuckin' blocks.”

When Hyunjin learns that the pieces can be rotated (so six or seven attempts later), a man walks into the arcade.

He has hair the color of dark chocolate, the face of a fairy prince—and he’s with someone. The two of them appear arm in arm, laughing at something he said. He looks at this person the way astronomers do to the sky.

Something shatters inside you like old porcelain.

Your hands loosen around the back of Hyunjin’s chair. You can’t watch. You can’t think. You can only feel a void of disappointment rip open, stretch over you like an elongating shadow.

“Seung!” That’s Jisung, you think. “You made it!”

“Yo, sorry we’re late.” That’s Seungmin. That is undoubtedly Seungmin. “Dinner took longer than I thought.”

“Min, are you sure I’m allowed to be here?” You don’t know who this voice belongs to and you’re not sure you want to. “I feel like I’m intruding—”

“Hwang,” you say suddenly. “I have to go.”

He turns around, confused. An unattended block falls into a terrible spot on the screen behind him. ”Already?”

“I forgot I had an important call to make.” You turn away, training your eyes on the patterned carpet. “Sorry. I’ll see you around.”

You have touched Hyunjin’s hands many times. He’s asked you to tape his fingers every day since the first; he likes the way you cut off his circulation, says it helps him hit harder. But you never hold his hand so much as you examine it, the act stiff and unfeeling, cordoned within the professional pretense of athletic treatment.

Now, Hyunjin catches your hand like a gardener repotting their favorite flower: delicately, careful of leaving its roots intact and petals untouched, but firmly, securely, so the flower continues to stand tall even when it’s been extracted from the soil, not even a speck of dirt slipping through the cracks between their fingers. That is the image you conjure when he slips his between yours, his metal rings cold where his fingertips are warm.

He says your name. There is a pinch of pain in the word, and you know that he knows.

“Do you want to be alone?”

You have never been asked such a thing—you have never asked to be asked such a thing—but, for some reason, the question brings tears to your eyes.

“Yes, please,” you whisper, and you pull your hand away.

When you stalk past him, you hear Jisung notice you, call out to you, a note of worry in his question. You also count three pairs of eyes on your back: one concerned, the next confused, and the last you are wholly incapable of meeting.

Unknown to you is the fourth pair fixed upon the top of the Tetris machine, where you’ve left your phone.

You emerge into the parking lot. The frigid air stills your mind for a fraction of a second, the last moment of mental quietude you will allow yourself that night.

Hyunjin’s right; the team manager doesn’t have to do much.

Coach Bang allows you to come to whichever practices and games you feel like, during which you might at most lug around a ballbag or fill someone’s waterbottle before holing up somewhere to do your own thing. But you like the people you work for too much to do so little for them, so you attend everything your schedule allows.

Last week, you could be found helping Minho put up the volleyball nets before practice, your laughter echoing throughout the spacious gym as he complained to you about his biochemistry professor’s distinct “cabbage scent.” Or running to grab materials for Changbin as he treated his teammates’ injuries like you were assisting an orthodontist giving someone a root canal. The dinner invitations you extended to Seungmin were always turned down, but his teammates were more than happy to assist you and Hyunjin in your quest to establish the best kimbap joint in the area once and for all. You even had a heart-to-heart with Coach Bang during one of the team’s water breaks, in which you managed to get half a smile out of the guy; Hyunjin was convinced that was his way of asking you to elope. You spent more time in the gymnasium those ten days than you had your entire college career.

Then came the arcade.

Five days have come and gone. You haven’t attended practice since, but you still see Hyunjin every morning at anthropology. The two of you sit in uncharacteristic silence for most of the lectures. You’ve taken the best notes of your life. He doesn’t mention the previous weekend; he doesn’t mention much of anything.

In person, that is.

That Friday afternoon, you’re reading on the terrace of the library when you receive a text. It’s from Hyunjin, a two-minute voice note. You hesitate for a moment, stick a pencil into the gutter of your textbook to save your place, and slip your earbuds in. You listen to it.

Then you listen to it again.

And again as you wrap up your study session and go home. Again as you cook yourself dinner and load the dishwasher. Again as you shrug on a jacket and pocket your keys, setting off on the familiar trek to the gym.

As for what you plan to do there on a Friday night, long after the team has finished practice, you haven’t the slightest clue. You continue to move regardless, fueled by the feeling that there is where you need to be.

Coach Bang is leaving the building just as you’re approaching it. He halts in his footsteps and raises his eyebrows when he notices you. The man has always been difficult to read, but his face is exceptionally opaque now. Maybe it’s the shadowy landscape; more likely it’s the uneasiness that began to mount within you once you noticed the lights in the gym were still on.

“It’s been a while,” he greets.

“Coach,” you return, lowering your head. “I want to apologize for—”

“Save it,” he says, not unkindly. “There’s nothing to apologize for, alright? The team is lucky to have you.”

You manage a grateful smile. “I’ll be back starting next week.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He starts to walk away, stops himself, and glances into the illuminated building. “I would give him some space, by the way.”

Your uneasiness morphs into anxiety as you watch his broad back retreat into the shadows. You remain outside the gym for a few minutes more, accompanied by the distant melodies of cricket chorales and the muffled squeaking of shoes against laminated hardwood, the harsh sounds of flesh meeting leather.

Briskly, you walk home, rummage around, and return to the gym ten minutes later with your textbook tucked beneath your arm. This time, you unlock and enter the building without a moment of hesitation.

Hyunjin is positioned multiple yards behind the service line, rotating a volleyball in his hands. A high toss, two resounding steps, and a collision like the crack of a whip. The previous ball has barely landed in the furthest corner of the court when he’s picking up the next, retreating to the same spot to do it all again. His tank top is the color of charcoal over his sweaty skin, his hair auburn where it’s plastered to his neck. He’s alone.

You only catch sight of Hyunjin’s face when you descend the stairs. His expression is crystalline, hardened with concentration and fortified by courage, but fragile all at once, rendered delicate by fatigue and fear, spilling from his every seam and splintering off his person like a broken vase. You recognize it as clearly as if you were looking at a picture of yourself from the worst years of your life.

“I was told to give you space,” you call out, and Hyunjin drops the volleyball he’s holding.

His lips fall apart. Nothing comes out of them. The only sounds to follow are your footsteps as you make your way towards the bleachers, a vertical wall of plastic now that they’ve been retracted for the night. You fold your legs into a criss-cross as you take a seat at their base.

“Is this enough space?”

More silence. You gesture to the volleyball nervously.

“Don’t make me go further, please. I’m not ready to die.”

Finally, this earns you a smile. It’s not much, but it loosens the nervous coils in your heart, permits your lungs to contract once more, and it remains on his face as he swipes the ball back into his hands. You open your textbook.

The rest of the night elapses in turning pages and soaring volleyballs. You don’t care for minutes or hours; you give him all the time in the world, as he did you.

The only time you glance at the clock on the wall is around midnight, when Hyunjin hobbles to the middle of the court and collapses. You’re worried at first. Then he rolls onto his back and releases a guttural groan into his hands, and your held breath comes out a laugh. You set down your book and stand up.

There’s a lake of perspiration forming around him. You pay it no mind and flop onto the floor, your eyes instantly narrowing beneath the fluorescent lights.

“How do you see under these things?”

“I don’t,” he returns. “I complained about it to Coach once.”

“And?”

“He made them brighter.” Sounds about right.

Hyunjin spends the next few minutes catching his breath, his chest rising and falling in your peripheral vision. You sift through your mind for phrases of consolation or gestures of support and come up empty. You wish you had Hyunjin’s way with words.

But you think about the way his smile reached his eyes as he thanked you for caring about him, the tenderness with which he caught your hand at the arcade, the I give a fuck about you he blurted before ending the study call. You think about the voice note. It’s not that Hyunjin has a way with words; it’s that he’s brave enough to break the silences that you can’t, like he perceives your anxiety for the aftermath, shouldering the responsibility so you won’t have to.

This cannot be his burden alone.

You inhale. “What’s on your mind?”

Hyunjin doesn’t answer right away. You give up on squinting and close your eyes. The lights are still bright enough to dance around the murky darkness.

“I don’t think I know how to put it into words.”

You nearly laugh; you know how that feels. “Don’t think, just talk. I’m here.”

The same advice you gave yourself seems to work on him as well.

“Do you remember Ishikawa Yuki?”

His role model.

“He’s currently playing for a club team in Italy called Allianz Milano.” He blows out a deep breath. “I’ve been talking to their coach, Roberto Piazza, for the last six months.”

The gears in your head creak in their effort to process the implications of these words. “Holy shit, Hwang.”

“He emailed again, this morning. Said he was coming to the tournament later this month, he’s excited to see me play in person, whatever. And it hit me, finally, that this is all real. Like, this is actually happening to me. I spent all of today freaking out and asked Coach to let me stay back after practice. Usually, it wears out my brain if I tire my body, but it only half-worked today. I couldn’t wrap my head around anything. I still can’t.

“I am who I am because of that man, and now…I have a shot at playing with him. I keep asking myself why I’m not—not happier. I should be bouncing off the fucking walls, no? If I told my past self that this would be happening to him one day, he—he would—”

You open your eyes, confused by the sudden silence.

Hyunjin is sitting up next to you, staring intensely into the bleachers. You first notice the tip of his tongue prodding into his cheek, then his shuddering breath. He lifts a hand to his face, pressing against his eyes.

You stop thinking after that.

You sit up with him. When you settle your fingers around his wrist, he allows you to pull his hand back to his side. But he turns away as if trying to hide from you; he squeezes his eyes shut as if that would obstruct your view of his pain.

You reach to cradle his face, bringing him back to you. The cuff of your sleeves wipe at the saltwater on his cheeks, push the hair off his forehead with gentle sweeps. The two of you are close, close enough that your lips would meet the space between his eyes if you so much as lost your balance. His gaze traverses to your face, but you resolve not to meet it. You know you will traipse into uncharted territory the moment you do.

“Don’t fight it.” You trace over the hill of his cheek. “Healing becomes easier if you let yourself hurt. Trust me, Hyunjin.”

His first name should feel foreign on your tongue, yet you suspect the syllables have accompanied you all your life.

“You don’t have to continue if you can’t.”

“S’okay.” Hyunjin lifts your hand away from his face, presses a kiss to the base of your palm. “I want to.”

You feel yourself stumble ungracefully into the uncharted territory from before; does he do the same?

“I used to play volleyball on this expanse of cracked blacktop, behind my primary school. It was pretty brutal on my feet—I blew through so many different pairs of sneakers my mom almost made me quit.” He smiles at the memory. “But every time I came close to quitting, I’d go home and rewatch the same USA vs. Poland match from the 2008 Summer Olympics I asked my dad to record, and I’d promise myself it would be me on some other kid’s screen someday.

“That kid would tell everyone who’d listen about how cool I am. That I’m a secret superhero. That I’m living proof humans can fly if they really, really try—just like I talked about the volleyball players I grew up watching on my TV.

“The other day, Coach told me that hope would consume me. I thought it was just some senile drivel at the time, but..I think I get what he means now. I would do anything and everything to make that kid proud—even if it meant losing myself.” He lowers his head, auburn strands falling into his eyes. “That’s what’s on my mind.”

Amidst the ensuing pause, a storm approaches. It does not come in the form of rain or snow, sleet or hail, no; it is a gathering of words unsaid and emotions unacknowledged, all emerging from the deepest chambers of your heart in synchrony. The same entities you used to scapegoat for all the times things were awkward between you and Hyunjin when you were the culprit all along. You and your blind cowardice.

The storm tears open the seam of your lips. You do not resist; it’s long overdue.

“Every time Changbin sees you, he turns into a smitten schoolgirl,” you say. “He is physically unable to contain how endearing he finds you. He told me so himself.”

Hyunjin looks at you with widened eyes. You think you can see your own reflection in them, and you are the spitting image of a lighter dropped into gasoline, unstoppable in your vehemence.

“Jeongin comes to you for advice before anyone else,” you continue, “even for things related to school—which I still find hard to believe, I’m not gonna lie. But you have his best interests in mind, and it shows in everything you do for him. Of course your opinion matters more than anything in the world.

“I know you think he can’t stand you, but you are the reason Coach Bang loves this job, why he loves this sport. It’s written all over his face every time he calls you something mean, every time he makes you run another lap, every time he looks at you. You’re like a son to him. Everyone sees it but you.”

“Then there’s me.” You pause to catch your breath. “When I think about what my life used to be, I remember a lot of things. I remember loneliness. Insecurity. I remember my books and my backgammon boards and the way I taught myself to disappear inside them so the world would never find me. I remember avoiding mirrors like a vampire because I didn’t like seeing my own reflection. I remember feeling like I had to put on someone else’s personality every time I left the house because nobody would want to know me for me. All I ever wanted was a place where I could be myself, love myself, without consequence. I have yet to find that place.

“But I found a person. Someone who wouldn’t know time and place if they kicked his dick into his body. Someone who thinks instant ramen is high in nutritional value because it comes with dried vegetables. Someone who sweats the same amount of rain the Sahara Desert receives yearly—your body is not normal, by the way.”

Hyunjin giggles; it is soft and short, a small, tearful huff into the quiet air that makes you feel like you’re flying.

“Don’t get me wrong,” you say. “Your sense of humor sucks and your taste in coffee is so boring and you are the one with no media literacy, not Professor Kim. But I love spending time with you. I love who I am when I’m around you. And none of that has to do with volleyball.”

The next time you blink, you discover that he’s not the only one with tears in his eyes. How long has that been going on?

“There’s so much about you to be proud of, Hyunjin.” You give him a watery smile. “That kid will be spoiled for choice.”

When Hyunjin pulls you into his arms, you fall into each other like going to bed after a long day. Your face burrows into the crook of his neck in your embarrassment; he is laughing and crying at the same time when he mumbles something into your shoulder: “I knew you cared about me.”

You are so happy for the comedic relief you could sob. It helps that you already are.

“How the fuck are you still sweaty?” You choke out, and you think you like his cologne after all.

Six days later, Hyunjin opens the door of his apartment.

A fun-sized flurry of black and white barrages into the hallway outside and almost runs headfirst into the figure waiting there. You fall to your knees like you’ve just been gravely wounded, emitting an ear-piercing wail to match. All it takes is a few good head scratches for Kkami to stop yipping bloody murder and start whining for attention instead.

Upon minute five of watching you and his dog cuddle in the hallway directly outside his home, Hyunjin sighs.

“Can you come inside, please? My RA will think I’m doing some freaky shit again.”

You side-eye him as you walk into his apartment, Kkami perched happily in your arms. “What, exactly, does freaky shit entail?”

He smirks as the door falls shut. “You want me to tell you or show you?”

You turn to Kkami, disgusted. “Your owner’s a bit of a pervert, my dear.”

Kkami licks you on the chin. Hyunjin’s eyes narrow to slits.

“Traitor.”

Naturally, Hyunjin’s parents chose the eve of his final anthropology exam—and the week before the tournament that will determine the trajectory of his career—to ask him to look after Kkami for a few days. He nearly canceled their plane tickets himself, but his impromptu roommate is currently ransacking your face with kisses on his couch, and he thinks your laugh complements his studio better than any decoration.

“Do you want anything to drink?” He calls from the kitchen area.

You meander over, Kkami (still) perched happily in your arms. “What do you have?”

“Alcohol.” He opens his fridge far enough so you can peer over his shoulder. “Americanos.”

He stops speaking.

“Is that all?”

“Yes. Wait—and apple juice.”

“You are about to be a professional athlete.”

“What the Italians don’t know won’t hurt them. You want apple juice, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes.”

“Maybe. Can you open it for me? My hands are full.”

Hyunjin does so with far less reluctance than he feigns. You thank him jubilantly, popping the straw into your mouth.

“Let’s get this over with.”

At 10:32 P.M., all is calm. You are sitting on the floor, your back against the side of his mattress. Hyunjin is where the universe intended: curled up in bed, both him and his laptop lying on their sides. You have studied eight out of ten units in only two and a half hours, and the night is still young. Kkami is but a fluffy, sleepy Oreo by your waist.

At 10:33 P.M., the Oreo begins to retch.

You startle a foot into the air. Hyunjin is out of bed and on his feet in the blink of an eye, the very image of a dog dad on duty. He grabs three different things off the kitchen counter with one hand and scoops up the long-haired chihuahua with the other, and then he’s kicking open the door.

Seungmin appears out of thin air carrying two heaping bags of groceries. Hyunjin nearly knocks him and a month’s worth of fresh produce down four flights of stairs.

“Hyun—Kkami?” Seungmin swivels. “Yo, what the fuck is—”

Hyunjin is already out the door.

A few minutes later, Hyunjin squats off to the side, pouring fresh water into a portable dog bowl. A little ways away, Kkami is throwing up ebulliently; a set of footsteps approaches.

“What is this thing?” Seungmin squats down next to Hyunjin, picking up the piece of patterned fabric lying on the grass.

“Kkami gets sad after throwing up,” he sighs. “His blanket makes him feel better.”

Seungmin watches the chihuahua for a few moments, a soft flinch crimping his features. “He ate too fast again?”

Hyunjin rakes a hand through his hair. “I don’t get it. Nobody’s gonna take his food from him.”

Seungmin laughs. “I didn’t even know he was on campus.”

“I picked him up last night. My parents are traveling for work—they say hi, by the way.”

“I say hi back. I miss your mom’s cooking.”

“Me too,” Hyunjin says, smiling. “She would love to cook for you again—she’s always saying you’re too skinny.”

“She really is.”

A beat passes; it is then that Hyunjin has an epiphany.

Seungmin was the one who put a volleyball in his hands for the first time. Back then, Hyunjin was the lesser troublemaker between the two of them—a concept that neither of them can wrap their heads around to this day. Seungmin suggested they use the clotheslines in Hyunjin’s backyard as a makeshift net, despite Hyunjin’s dissuading; half of Hyunjin’s father’s wardrobe caught on fire, Seungmin had a black eye for a week, and nobody knows what happened to that volleyball. The two of them have been attached at the hip ever since.

It is a crazy thing, having your best friend as a teammate; a singular flick of the wrist or a point of his shoe and Seungmin will know exactly Hyunjin wants the ball down to the net’s fraying fibers; Hyunjin will be exactly where Seungmin needs him down to the flecks of paint on the volleyball court. Hyunjin has always been Seungmin’s hitter—Seungmin, always Hyunjin’s setter. Nothing will ever change between them so long as that remains the case.

At least, that’s what Hyunjin used to think.

Learning that Seungmin was in a relationship was as much a wake-up call for Hyunjin as it was for you. At first, he was just fucking pissed; how could Seungmin be so stupid as to turn down someone like you, especially when Hyunjin had shot his mouth off about his wingman services? More importantly, how long had his best friend of eighteen years been in love, and why was he the last to know?

Only now, as they wait for his nine-year-old chihuahua to finish barfing, does Hyunjin realize that he can’t remember the last time he and Seungmin talked. Not “talked” as in a brief exchange inside the locker room or the lecture hall, about a new approach he wants to try or what Seungmin got on number four or if he wants a ride to practice—“talked” as in talked, about Hyunjin, about Seungmin, about the eighteen years they shared, about all the years yet to come.

Hyunjin sees his setter every day; he stopped looking for his friend a long time ago.

“Yeonwoo, right?”

He senses surprise in Seungmin without having to look at him. But he also senses a smile, a subtle show that Seungmin recognizes what he’s trying to do—and forgives him.

“Yeonwoo,” Seungmin affirms. “We’re in the same songwriting intensive this semester.”

“Also a singer?”

He shakes his head. “Piano player. Performed at the Carnegie Hall in the United States at, like, seven years old. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so talented.”

“Wow, that’s—hi, old man. You done?”

Kkami walks over with his head hung low and tail between his legs, and Hyunjin hurries to drape the pup in his favorite blanket, pulling the bowl of water in front of him in tandem. Seungmin runs a hand over the top of Kkami’s head as he hydrates.

“You’ve suffered,” he tells him solemnly, and Hyunjin snorts.

“As I was saying—that’s crazy to hear, coming from the most talented person I know. You guys looked so good together.”

“Thanks. It’s weird. I’m happy.”

“You deserve it. You really do, Kim.” They exchange smiles, and Hyunjin gives Seungmin a playful nudge. “When are you introducing us?”

“The arcade wasn’t enough?”

“Don’t insult me.”

“Whenever you want, then.”

“Dinner with my mom, dinner with Yeonwoo,” Hyunjin recounts. “I’m holding you to it.”

“Bet.”

They shake on it. If Hyunjin wasn’t already reassured by Seungmin’s smile, he knows by his clasp around his hand that they’ll be okay.

“What about you?” Seungmin asks. “Are you together yet?”

Hyunjin knew this was coming. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” Seungmin strings his hands together, letting them dangle in the space between his knees. “Someone you have questions for that you’re too scared to ask. Someone who’s lived in your mind since the day you met. There’s someone like that, isn’t there?”

Hyunjin pokes his tongue into his cheek.

Ever since that night on the gym floor, Hyunjin’s been having these dreams. By the time his alarm goes off in the morning, every detail of the dream has eluded him, leaving behind only a ghost of emotion, akin to the breeze that grazes your face moments after walking past another person.

But then he’ll get out of bed, and walk to that café on the east side of campus, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. There, he’ll order a vanilla latte with extra sweetener, then turn around to see you standing five feet away, holding an Americano and trying not to laugh. And he’ll just know, with everything in him, that you are where his head goes when he’s not keeping watch.

He still addresses you by the pet names you hate. He still finds any excuse to be close to you; he still pesters you like a child with a crush. But now, he calls you his baby like one wishes on a star; his eyes drift to your lips every time you’re within two feet of each other; he makes fun of your likes and dislikes only because he’s happy to know about them at all. Ever since that night on the gym floor.

It’s impossible for nothing and everything to change at once. Two people teetering on the precipice of something cannot withstand a gust of wind so powerful. He’s already hanging off the ledge, losing his grip; where are you?

Next to him, Seungmin lets out a soft laugh. “There is.”

Hyunjin doesn’t know what to say.

“It might’ve been me, at some point,” he hums, returning his hand to scratch the back of Kkami’s ears. “But it has always been you, Hyun.”

Four floors above them and inside Hyunjin’s place, you are pacing between his fridge and his bed, nervously awaiting his and Kkami’s return.

Something catches your eye, wide and flat and hung on the wall by his bathroom door. You approach it curiously, your lips pulling into a fond smile the moment you realize all that’s in front of you.

Many of the photographs are of Hyunjin: him in his preteens, dead asleep in bed while dressed head to toe in volleyball gear, braces visible because his mouth is open; an action shot taken at what must’ve been a U21 match, the South Korean flag stitched into the shoulder of his jersey; him with half a birthday cake in front of him and the rest smeared all over his face. There are headlines, too: Underdog team earns district’s first high school volleyball state title; Hwang Hyunjin proves himself worthy of “ace spiker” label at South Korea V. Croatia U19 match; Coach Bang “Christopher” Chan leads Seoul National University to second consecutive KUL championship. There’s one—Who is Hwang Hyunjin? Meet the twenty-year-old instigant of South Korea’s imminent volleyball revolution—beside which he’s written the singular word “mouthful.” You laugh; you agree.

But pinned to the corkboard is also a photograph of Minho, surrounded by stray cats in the alleyway outside a K-BBQ restaurant; his parents cradling Kkami in an apple costume; his high school volleyball team silhouetted against a pretty sunset. Him and Seungmin as kids, covered in grime and scrapes but beaming nonetheless; him and Seungmin at age nineteen, stadium lights on their backs, unadulterated elation on their faces as they charge towards each other, beaming still. Changbin piggybacking Felix through the hallways of the gym, neither of them wearing a shirt; Jisung offering Coach Bang a beer while the latter looks direly unamused (you make a mental note to ask about that one later); what looks like a Rock Lee cosplayer grimacing in the middle of your anthropology classroom.

You rush forward as if decreed by gravitational force. Not too far away is another picture of you, in which you boast a Miffy headband and a face full of foaming cleanser. Then another, your eyes narrowed like that of a sniper taking aim as you’re playing Tetris; you with so many volleyballs piled into your arms that you can’t see your own face; your cheeks squished by a bandaged hand after you lost a bet about pandas (they can swim); you clutching your stomach on the library floor, brought to hysterical tears by Professor Kim’s email. You, you, you.

You bring your pointer finger to this last image, tracing it over the curve of your own cheek. You see a dimple on your face you didn’t know you had. You realize it only comes out for him.

It has always been him.

The front door opens. A man with telephone poles for legs and a long-haired chihuahua in his arms appears behind it. You sense in him that something has changed since you last saw each other. The two of you lock eyes.

It’s not awkward this time.

Multiple yards behind the service line, Hyunjin is rotating a volleyball in his hands. It feels solid and sentient, an extension of himself held in cotton-clad fingers. He knows how this story will end.

He moves his eyes to his best friend’s back. Four fingers flash back at him twice, signaling a high lob set to the left, the very play they’ve practiced tirelessly for the last five weeks. The breath Hyunjin blows out of his cheeks seems to crystallize in the air, almost solid in all its exhilaration.

He bends low and throws high. His arms drop behind his body like a spread of feathered wings; his feet fall into place below him like a meteor shower, two consecutive strikes against the earth that fissure its mantle. The lights overhead are bright. His palm pulls taut when it slams into leather. He knows how this story will end.

The volleyball tears towards the ground. It trembles as if scared by all that it holds: the guarantee of a flawless denouement, the catalyst of a radiant future. Hyunjin’s heart is beating hard enough to crack his ribs when he lands back on the ground, when the volleyball lands in the furthest corner of the court. He’s not scared at all.

He balls his fingers into fists.

“JUST LIKE LAST YEAR, BACK TO BACK ON AN ACE—”

An arm seizes Hyunjin’s neck; another drags him onto the floor. His head thuds onto the hardwood with a sound he hears over the whole world detonating. His vision fills with the faces of the people he cares for most, some covered in tears and others rivaling the ceiling with their blinding smiles. He can’t feel most of his body; his sweat drips into his mouth. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care.

“—DEFENDING THEIR TITLE FOR THE THIRD CONSECUTIVE YEAR—”

His eyes find Seungmin’s among the fray. Their hands clap together with such force that Hyunjin cusses at the impact. Seungmin’s gaze burns into his with a ferocity that Hyunjin plans to take to his grave. His setter. His best friend.

He says something inaudible, but Hyunjin reads the words off his lips, and his eyes fill with tears: we win everything.

“—YOUR NATIONAL CHAMPIONS: SEOUL NATIONAL UNIVERSITY!”

Hyunjin’s post-game interview is a lawless affair. He is allowed at most half an answer before a new teammate is barreling over with an animalistic screech or a new friend is screaming congratulations from out of frame.

The reporter is visibly agitated by her final question, unpursing her lips to ask: “Is there anyone you’d like to thank?”

Hyunjin exhales. “You want the short answer or the long—”

Changbin seizes him by the head. Hyunjin bursts into a peal of high-pitched laughter as the libero litters kisses all over his face, nearly crumpling to the floor in his attempt to escape.

“Love you,” he yells before hurrying off.

“Love you too, Bin.”

Hyunjin turns a sheepish smile to the reporter.

“The short answer,” she deadpans.

He starts counting off his fingers. He thanks his family—his first and last teammates, his eternal anchors. His other family, his actual teammates, the best boys he’s ever known. His coach, who will let him call him Chris someday. His best friend and setter, Kim Seungmin, who set a clothesline on fire once and changed his life forever.

In the distance, a figure emerges from the locker rooms. There’s a navy blue SNU banner draped over your shoulders, two overflowing duffel bags in your hands. Jisung and Jeongin run over to take them from you, and the smile you give them is wide and flushed, a remnant of the elation you shared from afar. The three of you start walking out of the gym.

Hyunjin thanks you.

You didn’t ask for the position, he tells the reporter, but some idiot roped you into it, and they’re all so grateful that you decided to stick around. You know the team better than they know themselves—it’s hard to believe you’ve been with them for five weeks instead of five years.

What are you like? What aren’t you like, is the better question. You’re caring, smart, strong; you see so much goodness in the people around you, all while unaware that it is your warmth that brings it out of them. Flowers only bloom in the sun’s doting radius, and so did he.

You have the sort of soul that incurs the scorn of the stars. They are the only ones to deserve you, they'd argue; you’re wasting your potential among humans when you belong to the sky, and they’d be right.

Hyunjin pokes his tongue into his cheek, suddenly annoyed.

“Why the fuck am I still talking to you?”

“Pardon?” The reporter returns, but Hyunjin is already vaulting over the bleachers, making a mad dash for the exit. She gives her cameraman an affronted glare. He shrugs.

He explodes onto the concrete, looking around in a frantic haze. He finds the blue banner heading toward the team bus and flanked by his teammates with ease.

He calls out to you.

You glance backwards. Your smile is purely effulgent, your laugh but a faint sigh against the area’s busy thrum. His heart is pounding against his ribs like a battering ram again, but he’s used to this feeling by now. Jeongin and Jisung make themselves scarce.

You’re beautiful. God, you’re fucking beautiful. That was the first thought to enter his mind when he spilled an iced Americano on your lap all those months ago and you looked at him like he hailed from another planet. And it is the first thought to enter his mind now, when he runs up to you and cradles your face in his hands, his touch infinitely, impossibly gentle, and you look at him like he’s everything that has ever existed, everything that ever will.

Tendrils of your body spray reach him from here, floral and light like a tropical coastline. He could’ve counted your eyelashes—if he didn’t have something far better to do.

“Tell me now if you don’t want me to do this,” he whispers.

A stupid smile crosses the face of the smartest person he knows. “My lips are sealed.”

Hyunjin kisses you. He kisses you until the banner around your shoulders is wrinkled under his touch, until your hands are tangled in his hair and aching his scalp, until the breaths you take are breaths you share, passed between your mouths like a puff of smoke before they’re colliding again.

He kisses you until he’s crying, again, until he’s no longer tasting your lips but your grin, and he kisses you only harder when those scornful stars start to dance before him, for you are his, not theirs, and he’s really won everything, now.

“Hwang, I need you in my office.”

Six months later, Hyunjin sees Coach Bang standing a few yards away with a grim air about him. He stops in his footsteps and glances at his captain, confused.

“I know nothing,” Seungmin says, walking away. “Good luck!”

“Thanks, cap.” Hyunjin swears he’s had this exact exchange before.

Head volleyball coach Christopher Bang’s workspace still reminds Hyunjin of a morgue. But there are two picture frames on his desk now: one of his family in front of the Sydney Opera House, the other of a band of boys clad in navy blue, draped over one another in exhausted bliss. The latter lends the room a much-needed sense of vitality. Too bad it still houses a rusty cyborg.

Hyunjin closes the door and takes a seat. Bang taps a knuckle against the tempered glass of his monitor. “Read.”

From: Nicola Daldello «[email protected]» To: Bang “Christopher” Chan «[email protected]» Subject: Re: Allianz Milano V. Pallavolo Perugia practice game Christopher, Allow me to apologize for my delayed response as I shared your request with Chairman Piazza. It is my great pleasure to inform you that we would love for Mr. Hwang Hyunjin to participate in our practice game versus Pallavolo Perugia. The match is scheduled for Monday, October 7th, 5-7 P.M. CET in the Giurati Sports Centre in Milan. Mr. Hwang will be playing for Allianz Milano as an outside hitter alongside Mr. Matey Kaziyski, Mr. Osniel Mergarejo, and Mr. Ishikawa Yuki. Please let me know of your availability to call regarding Mr. Hwang’s travel logistics. His transportation and lodging costs will be paid for by the club. I’m looking forward to speaking with you and welcoming Mr. Hwang to Italy once and for all. Yours, Nicola Daldello Assistant Coach, Allianz Milano

“I told you, some opportunities just present themselves,” Bang says, turning his monitor back around. “As for next steps, I need a holistic calendar view of your entire month of October, including social ev—Hwang, is that foam coming out of your mo—NOT ON MY CARPET! HWANG!”

In a park about a ten minute walk away, a small crowd of elderly people are scattered across a few stone tables, hunched over the fading chess boards painted into the granite surfaces. Mrs. Choi whisks away Mrs. Baek’s king with a triumphant yelp.

“I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! That opening is unbeatable!” She swivels towards you, shaking a fist threateningly. “You! Get over here. Your reign is over.”

You are sitting cross-legged in the shade of a broad magnolia tree, clearing out your storage. You tried to take a picture of a particularly rotund pigeon to send to Hyunjin earlier and couldn’t even do that. It was then you decided you couldn't live like this anymore.

“As excited as I am to beat you again, Mrs. Choi, I need ten more minutes,” you call back.

She presents you with an unpleasant hand gesture. You turn your attention back to your phone, grinning. Two new notifications sit at the top of your lock screen.

Hyunjin: Omw now. Sorry had to talk to Chris Hyunjin: Same park? Y/N: yes Hyunjin: Who’s our opponent today Y/N: mrs. choi Hyunjin: Not that bitch again Y/N: ?

He’ll be here in eight minutes.

You return to the task at hand. You’ve already cleared out your apps, your documents, and videos; all that’s left is the audio files. You conduct a quick mental review. Surely you’ll live without your downloaded music and accidental voice memos.

Instead of hitting the “delete” button, you extract a pair of tangled earphones from your jacket pocket.

You go back to your texts with Hyunjin, open the shared attachments tab, and scroll for a long time before you find the voice note he sent you seven months ago.

He finds you a sobbing mess.

“Hey, hey, whoa.” He’s on his knees in an instant, gathering your hands into his, a world of concern in the brown of his eyes. Your earbuds fall out and clatter onto the cement below. “Baby, what’s happening? Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you say in a flustered haste. “Yes, I’m okay. I don’t—I don’t really know what’s happening.”

“Did that hag do this to you?” He asks this question so seriously. “I’ll beat up a senior citizen, I don’t give a fuck—”

“No!” You let out an ugly laugh through your tears. “No, no. Leave Mrs. Choi alone.”

“Then what is it? What’s wrong?”

Eventually, your vision clears enough for you to look at the man kneeling in front of you. His roots grow out longer every day, his hair by now nearly equal parts gold and black. A spot of sunlight infiltrates the magnolia leaves and lands on his left eye, turning it the hue of melted bronze.

Your fingers drift to the sides of his beautiful face as you lean in close; he smells like a combination of smoky rose and tropical coastlines.

“I’ll tell you later,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his hairline.

He is dissatisfied with this, hooking a pointer finger beneath your chin, guiding your face back to his. He laves the saltwater from your lips, your tongue, and then you’re smiling again, barely able to remember why you cried in the first place.

You rest your foreheads together. “Have I told you that you look like a bumblebee these days?”

He smiles. “Does that make you my flower, then?”

“Because you’re irresistably drawn to me?”

“No, because I wanna put my pollen in—”

You shove him away. “You are grotesque.”

He returns in a flash. “You love me.”

You kiss him again. And again. And one more time for good measure, during which you mumble I do against his lips, and then you remember something.

“Why did Coach hold you back, by the way?” You pull away, tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “Are you in trouble again?”

“No, no. The opposite, actually.”

Your brow furrows. “The opposite? What—”

“In this lifetime, please,” Mrs. Choi hollers from the chess tables. You roll your eyes. Hyunjin smiles helplessly.

“Duty calls, my love.”

“Tell me your thing later too?”

“Of course.”

You dust yourself off and stand up, making your way to the battleground. But not before you whisper to Hyunjin, “now watch me beat up a senior citizen.”

He laughs with his whole body, his eyes the shape of crescent moons, his mouth a little rectangle.

“Hypocrite.”

Hyunjin: [1 Audio Message]

This is my seventh take and I’m not recording an eighth. What you get is what you get. I don’t care anymore.

I understand if you don’t wanna talk about what happened at the arcade. I wouldn’t, either. I just wanted to say that you don’t have to do this tutoring thing anymore. I won’t be able to fulfill my end of our deal, so…yeah, it wouldn’t be fair to you. You’ve already done so much for us. For me.

As for team manager, you’ll have to talk to Minho and Coach Bang if you wanna quit. Doesn’t sound like a fun conversation, I know—but if that’s what you decide, I’ll have your back. They don’t scare me. Well, they do. Sometimes.

You’ve been…distant, this week. I’ve known peace and quiet for the first time since we met, and I fucking hate it. I realized I couldn’t care less if you’re my tutor or my team manager or whatever—I just don’t want you to be a stranger. Maybe that’s selfish of me to say, but I’m tired of pretending the idea of losing you doesn’t terrify me. It does. It truly fucking does.

I’m gonna end this here, because I almost just stopped recording on accident and I would’ve committed first degree murder if I had to do this all over again. Sorry that this got so long, and…I’m sorry about everything. You deserve better.

Come back to me whenever you’re ready, okay? I’ll be waiting.

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp・@automaticpersonabatpaper・@aceofvernons・@linos-kitten・@newhope8・@weedforthoughtz・@hyunverse

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ctrlhope · 1 month

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The Pitfalls of Silk (m)

synopsis: The winter gods are out to get you. That could be the only possible explanation for the series of bad luck tumbling before you— tropical vacation cancelled, snow locking you inside. Hell, even your shovel broken in half has got to be the gods playing some sort of trick on you. Pulling you along, making decisions for you as they guide you along the red string of fate. Guide you towards the very spider that found his way into your basement. Allowing him to fall into your heart all the same. -> apart of the rest, relax, reserve series

p.jimin x f.reader

⋆𐙚┊: wc: 20.0k

⋆𐙚┊: genre: hybrid au, soft yandere, soulmate au, romance, fluff, smut, v light angst

⋆𐙚┊: content: spider hybrid!jimin (cobalt blue tarantula), human!reader, soft yandere jimin, dom!jimin, power imbalances, blood, blood kink, injury, mates / mating, stupid misunderstandings, reader is rlly bad at feelings, heat/rut cycles, jealousy, biting/marking, jimin has fangs, brat taming, light subspace, bondage, fingering, breeding / breeding kink, unprotected sex, cumplay, overstimulation, manipulation, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of venom, honestly rlly soft- jimin is just a little off his rocker, so many mentions of the word silk, jimin is soft for reader but also a little perverted freak <\3

⋆𐙚┊: notes: AHHH it’s finally here!!! I’ve had such a bad crush on spider jimin for such a long time. Creating his character over the years in my head— how exactly this type of hybrid would function was so fun for me. This fic (& the others that follow) has been spurred on by my special interest in arthropods so I hope you end up loving this jimin as much as I do <33 mwah I kiss u guys

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni

The weather has grown cold, too harsh for anyone to live outside— survive. Burly temperatures tumbling through the air in icicles, the entire world painted in white.

While the city was still busy, your quaint neighbourhood had gone completely quiet. Everyone huddled inside, trying to keep warm while they sipped on cocoa. The worst blizzard in generations deciding to tumble through on the exact weekend you were meant to go out of town. Meant to be enjoying a tropical beach with the best of your friends!

But nooo, all of the planes had to stay grounded and you had to be stuck in your house with nothing but chilly embers decorating your fireplace.

You were pissed about it all, to say the least. Annoyed that your vacation had to be cancelled, annoyed at the fact you couldn’t stay warm in the slightest, annoyed that you had to be shovelling snow out of your driveway right now.

Well, attempting to shovel snow would be a better way to put it. In theory it seemed like the right thing to do– try and get your car out just in case, start to clear a path for when you’d finally be able to greet the outside world, triumph over whatever winter gods are trying to keep you locked in your home.

In reality, you could hardly move– three layers of pants, two coats keeping all of your joints locked down. God, and the snow. It was coming down way too hard, piling up faster than you could brush it away. Hurting your cheeks with the freezing temperatures, making your bones throb with want to go back inside.

It is safe to say that you did not succeed. That was an easy enough conclusion to come to with the two halves of your snow shovel in your hands. Eyes staring blankly at the object with utter… you don’t even know the word.

Cheeks flushed red with cold, head lifting to the sky as you blink. What the fuck! How shitty can your shovel be! What the fuck is wrong with the snow!

Okay, maybe you did buy it at the dollar store. But that isn’t the point! Where has quality gone in our nation! Caring about the consumer! Yeah, that was never there to begin with! But still! You like to think that there's a point in that somewhere!

The snow falling on your skin feels like the sky is laughing at you, mocking you. It probably is. Cancelling your trip, forcing you to stay at home into the lonely confines of your small neighbourhood.

Yeah, the world is out to get you, you’ve decided it.

A grumble leaves your throat in annoyance, quiet cusses leaving your lips as your legs try to waddle themselves inside. Layers of clothing restricting every movement you make, joints feeling stiff and bones feeling cold. You are no more than a penguin, are you?

“Stupid fuckin’ shovel, stupid fuckin’ snow…” You huff, slamming the thick oak door behind you. Hoping, in a way, that you could pretend none of the frost was there in the first place.

It’s not that you hate snow– of course not. You don’t like to hate much of anything. But when it’s this deep, this thick, you can’t help the sour mood you fall into. Can’t help the sickly feeling in your gut that it has somehow wronged you simply for existing.

Whatever, not that it matters much. You aren’t mother nature. You can’t change it or your now cancelled– most likely non-refundable plans.

What you can change? A nice warm pizza in your tummy.

You hum to yourself, tapping off your boots before ridding yourself of them entirely. Soon follows your jackets, puddles of water quickly forming on the floor where it falls. Snow melting much too fast now that it is in the warmth of your home.

You stare at it in spite, another way mother nature has wronged you today.

You know what? No, not your problem right now. That is a problem for you later today! The wood would be fine. And if it isn’t?

…

You groan, throwing your head back as you move to the bathroom. The battle of opposing forces inside of your head has won again– being responsible, doing the right thing.

Your hand snatches a towel, “Stupid shovel… stupid snow…” You huff, kneeling on the ground to wipe away the liquid that pooled.

You hang the towel back in the bathroom for it to dry before finally making your way to the kitchen. To finally make the frozen pizza you want– no deserve! Yeah, you’ve had a hard day today, being an adult is too hard sometimes. You deserve a little treat don't you?

Feet scuffling against the floor, fluffy socks dragging along the surface allowing you to quickly slip against the tiled floor. Your hips sway, a quiet hum leaving your lips as your hands move diligently, efficiently. Placing the pizza in the oven, setting the timer, flipping the switch on on the kettle.

Everything happens with practised ease. With movements that leave no room for error. Careful, efficient, the way your parents always taught you. The right way.

If you do everything correctly, things will never go wrong. You’ll never have to worry. When everything is in your control, everything is perfect and content.

It’s too bad the right way never accounts for things out of your control. When the world causes you to tense and get annoyed– when it doesn’t behave the way it's supposed to, like you want it to. Just like stupid shovels and a winter storm no one predicted.

But hey, at least you still have power. Your backup generator is there if you need it. Can still watch your dramas and eat warm food. Keep yourself sane while the insane persits just outside of your door.

Lonely, lonely, lonely winter storm~ whatever shall you do~

Your head begins to sing to itself while you wait. Maybe you already were going insa–

Bang.

What the fuck was that?

Your eyes instantly dart to the basement door wide with fear– the source of the sound.

A crash, a quiet cry, a scurry all sound in quick succession. Too loud to miss. Too loud to ignore. Too distinct to place on anything else.

You know winter noises. The crash of shutters against the window, the influx of snow on glass. The beating of hail against the roof or the creaking of pipes chilled from the cold. The noises you just heard? None of the above. They couldn’t possibly be. They weren’t. They were too… too…

Human.

Shit, shit. Is someone in your basement?! Oh god, oh fuck.

The room, it freezes over.

Your pulse starts to race– hairs raise, stand on end. Breath filtering through your nose as you start to panic. Fingers grip the countertop as you try to ground yourself. Try to figure out a way to escape this.

If horror movies have taught you anything– it’s how to run. Grab everything you can, high tail it out before you become victim to the unknown lurking just below the surface of your floorboards. Before you can be possessed or worse, chased down by some mass murdering clown.

That would be the smart thing to do– the wise thing. To get out of your house as quickly as possible, call the police to investigate it for you before you have to become the ‘final girl’ of a movie franchise of your own.

But the storm, the storm would never allow for the right thing.

The police would never make it in time, the roads far too hazardous to truly reach you. If they did, you would already have frostbite from the cold outside by the time they made it. You might be worse off than before–

At least, that’s what you tell yourself. The reasoning formulated in your head as you grab a broom from the closet, slowly make your way to the basement door. Completely ignoring the nagging feeling in your gut, the one that tells you that you actually want to travel down the stairs. A string tugging you along a path predetermined, forcing you to forego anything you had thought before.

No, your line of reasoning had to be the object pulling you down those stairs, creaking with every slow, nagging step that you take. It could never be curiosity, a want to understand the unknown guide leading you astray from the dirt road you’ve taken time and time again.

The right road that would lead to the right solution is all but forgotten in this moment. Only adrenaline spurring you on, fingers clenching and unclenching around the broom handle in your grip. Fingers tied so tight around the metal that your knuckles may as well be white.

You're terrified– scared out of your mind. The only noise passing through the drums of your ears is your own pulse, the accelerated beat of your heart as you try to clear the fog that dances over your brain. Fear must be clouding your judgement, making you follow it blindly into the light; well, dark.

Your breath leaps from your chest in short pants, eyes haphazardly harding around your form as you make it to the bottom of the stairs. Something is keeping your legs moving when all your brain wants to do is turn back and run. Call the authorities like you should be doing instead of risking everything to satiate the incessant need pulling at the back of your skull. Acting on instincts alone, allowing the string of fate to tug you around the corner. The urge to investigate is stronger than anything you had ever felt before. Anything you’ve ever wanted to feel before.

He sees you before you see him.

“P-please..” The quiet, almost non-existent voice sends a chill down your spine. One you were not expecting in the slightest.

Terrified, panicked. Shaking like a leaf, eyes welled with tears. It’s almost like he knew you were coming down all along, just… didn’t know what to do about it. Too scared to move, too scared to hide. Too scared to do anything but sit there and wait.

Just as petrified as you.

Nothing about the scene before you is making much sense at all. Not to you, at least. Why is he so scared? Why is he in your home? Why isn’t he doing anything but sitting there with pleading, helpless eyes? You try to take everything in, try to fit the pieces of the picture together.

Basement window opened slightly, just enough to allow the man— was he a man? To climb inside. Pretty blonde hair completely dishevelled on his head, grime coating what you know would be such pretty locks. Eyes with double pupils brimmed with tears threatening to spill at any second. Pink plush lips quivering with worry, fangs biting into them so hard you fear they may bleed. No, they are bleeding.

He is definitely not a man. Nor is he a beast. An intoxicating swirl of the two combined into a species of hybrid you’ve never seen before.

The first thought in your head is one it shouldn’t be. One that makes your heart stop for entirely different reasons than before. Makes you drop the broom in your hands, allowing it to fall to the ground with a clatter. Defences dropped completely in the face of the stranger before you.

He only flinches at the noise, blood covered hands reaching in panic to cover his all too sensitive ears.

Any worries have left you– something seeded deep within your soul tells you he isn’t a threat in the slightest. Not to you, at least. Never to you. Maybe it is the same string as before pulling you along. Pulling you to what destiny has provided.

He is absolutely gorgeous. Even with the grime and his pale complexion from the cold you can tell that easily. He might just be the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen, and you find lost in yourself what to do about it.

What is anyone meant to do when a drop dead gorgeous hybrid enters their home in the middle of a blizzard? Just as scared as you were moments before? Looking like he might freeze to death if you don’t–

Holy shit he must be frozen solid.

It’s only then that you come to your senses, your eyes racking over him once more as you take in all of him for more than just the beauty he brings.

His clothes are thin– far too thin for this weather at least. Tattered on the edges, few stains spotting the fabric, though its clear effort was spent trying to get them out. Your mind wants to wonder why he would worry about that, worry about making himself appear presentable, but raking your vision down you know there is no time for it. Not with the blood on his palms or the red of his flesh.

Your body moves quicker than your brain can think, crouching down in front of him. Noticing the way he flinches once more, the fear in his eyes more palpable, hurting worse than a gunshot wound.

The constriction of your chest is dumb, or at least it should be. Feels almost benign, unfounded. You just met him, you're scaring him, but for an unexplainable reason you wish you could take all of his worry away just for that moment. Make him feel a little better, a little warm. A little safe.

“It’s okay… it’s okay…” Your voice mumbles, trying to soothe him or yourself, you’re not entirely sure.

“I-I’m sorry… pl-please don’t.. It’s just so cold… Please…” He begs, though neither of you are sure what for. Not to hurt him, not to send him back outside. All you know is the tears that now flow from his eyes, cresting along his cheeks, dripping to the floor.

“Not going anywhere…” You hope your voice sounds stronger than you feel, hope he can’t hear the way the strings of your heart break, hope he hears how much you care in your tone all along, “Trust me a little okay…?”

You know your words mean nothing, that it might have been an impossible task for him to do so. But you had to try. Had to hope.

It should be hard for you to trust him too, it should be hard to rectify your fear in the face of the one who had caused it. It isn’t the right thing– none of this is the right thing, but it all just comes too easily. Compassion, caring takes over the anxiety too easily. Too brilliantly to do anything else other than care for this hybrid that has wound up at your door.

He was just a scared hybrid doing whatever he needed to to survive. Terrified out of his mind that he would freeze or starve out there– probably had no burrow or… you’re not sure, honestly, what his home might be like. But no home nevertheless. You could never just send another person out there to die.

He stiffens as you reach out for him, gently take his hands in your own. They feel like ice, frozen solid. You don't want to acknowledge what could have happened to them if he was out there any longer.

Without thinking you raise them to your lips, blowing on them as best you can. Trying to do anything to get the blood flowing again before you take him upstairs. Warm him up properly. Make him feel like more than a snowman once again.

You don’t notice the way his form completely loses all stress as you touch him for the first time, speak to him the first time. He feels transfixed on your voice– it had to be too sweet to be real. But you were too focused on your mission. Too focused on making sure the man who has broken into your home is okay to notice the way his lips part slightly at your tone.

You don’t notice the way his breath hitches, the way all of his hair stands on edge as a current runs through his body, breathing life into every pore he possesses. Nor the way his eyes widen, losing their will to cry as he stares at you.

Don’t notice the recognition on his face.

You don’t notice a lot of things he does that day. Too focused on getting him into a warm shower– one he was very confused by, you might add. Too focused on getting a warm meal in his belly. Too focused on getting him in nice, clean clothes. A set that will properly keep him warm.

You could worry about other things later. But this felt right. This felt like something you were always meant to do. Or maybe that was just the size of your heart talking– you could never be too sure. But you liked to think it was the former. Liked to hope that Jimin, who you later learned was a spider hybrid, was always meant to come tumbling through your window, into your life for good.

The days that follow are easy– falling into a rhythm with him, taking care of him is just too simple. As basic as breathing, maybe.

Though, it hasn’t exactly been hard with how much he sleeps. How deep he’s nestled in your bed, blankets piled on top of him to drown out any chills that may attempt to slip into his bones. It’s almost like hibernation– if you could describe it. Re-building his energy, making himself feel strong again before he faces the world.

You can’t blame him, honestly. Not after everything he’s been through. Only god knows how long he had been out there. How long he had to brave the snowstorm, the cold weather that previewed it as well. You would probably do the same thing. Hide yourself from everything that hurt you.

Most days you wish you could be doing the exact same thing as him. Hide under a pile of blankets and forget the rest of the world exists. But the voice of your parents would always nag you out of it, force you to be human with the rest of society because it's the right thing.

You humph, gently placing a plate of food on the bedside table. Let him occupy your room for as long as he needs, preparing meals for him even though he never touches a bit of it. It’s the least you can do with his condition.

You don’t think you’ve ever wanted to stop someone's pain so badly. You hope you can by just doing small things like this. You sigh, heading for the door once again. Another day on the couch.

“Human…?” His voice is quiet, almost non-existent as he calls for you. Cracking slightly, the first time he's spoken in days.

You quickly turn to face him and almost want to fall to your knees at the sight. Fluffy blonde hair peeking from just below the covers, doll eyes peering at you while the rest of him stays hidden beneath the surface. Does he know how destructive he is?

Wait, no. Now isn’t the time to be thinking about this. He’s letting his defences down, actually talking to you. Stop it.

“Hmm?” You gently call back, glued to your spot in the doorway. You don’t know what he would do if you moved, how startled he may be because of it. You want to talk to him– to find answers.

“What time is it…?” He slowly asks, pacing his question. You notice a slight lisp behind his words– how much of an effort he puts to cover it up.

“Mmm.. about 1? I made myself some lunch so I was just stopping by.” You explain, trying to justify your presence in the room.

“Oh.” He looks beneath the blankets, eyes darting around the room, “Okay. Thank you.”

It seems neither of you are great conversationalists, awkward air passing between the space left between your bodies. You don’t blame him. You don’t know what you would be thinking, feeling if you were in the same place as him. If you didn’t really know what your fate was going to be.

“How are you feeling?” You ask quietly, playing with your fingers to distract from the nerves that you feel. As much as you want to jump, pin him down and ask every single thing your heart begs for, you know that isn't the right thing to do. You know you should be slow, careful with this. At least, that's what the articles online have told you.

“Better…” His voice comes out smoother this time, finally coming out of sleep as he sits up in the bed. Gently taking the plate into his lap, scrunching his nose. “It’s not cold in here like out there.”

You can’t help but smile to yourself. He seems so relaxed, so at ease. Not scared in the slightest of you or what you may do. You forget all about the fact that you should probably be scared of him too.

“Not really,” You smile gently, eyes glancing at the window as he starts to eat, “I was really worried about you, scared me bad.”

You don’t see the flush that covers his cheeks.

“I-I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to… your window was the first one I could get through and I knew I couldn’t take the storm anymore so I–”

“Hey, It’s fine.” You turn your attention back to him, “I’m just glad you’re okay, yeah? It must’ve been terrifying out there.”

“It was.” He doesn’t hesitate in answering in the slightest, eyes serious as they focus on you. They’re beautiful, really. His eyes.

“I’m sorry…”

He shakes his head, “Not your fault human, I left the reserve. My fault.” He tells you in earnest, wanting you to believe it with every piece of your soul that you could never do anything to hurt him, “Come sit?”

The question is quiet, but you oblige nonetheless. Legs moving you slowly, perching at the end of the bed to face him. Kicking your legs slightly as you stare at the pattern of your sweats.

“The reserve?” You ask, turning slightly to face him. His face is suddenly smiling, nodding at your question. He must like the place a lot, see it as home for him to become so excited.

“Yeah! Where I live,” He explains, continuing to shovel food into his mouth as he speaks, “They say humans can't hurt you there, you get to hunt like in the wild too.”

He hums, content in talking about the one place he has ever found comfort in, found friends in. You can’t help but smile as he speaks, too.

“Yeah? It sounds really nice.” He’s nodding his head once again, as quickly as he can.

“There are lots of other arthropods to play with there. Lot’s of food. Sometimes the humans that visit will give you some too, but they’re normally scared of me.” He suddenly looks serious, eyes coming to meet yours once again, “You’re not scared of me, right?”

You jerk your head back, brows furrowing together in confusion. How could someone be scared of someone like Jimin? You’ve only known him for a matter of days and you doubt that you could ever be.

“Of course not.” You tell him, gently reaching a hand over to place on his knee. He doesn’t flinch away like you expect him to. “You just needed some help, we all need help sometimes.”

He smiles, the serious demeanour retracting from his face in an instant. Back to smiling down at his food happily. The silence doesn’t feel as awkward anymore, at least you don't think it does. It makes you happy, stretching on as he continues to eat like a man starved. He probably is, days of not eating and only sleeping.

“Why did you leave it?” You tilt your head, staring out the window once more. Few snowflakes trickle against the blue sky, “I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But I figure if we’re going to be together through the storm–”

“You’re not gonna kick me out?” His face is awestruck, fork dropping to the plate in surprise. What is he talking about? Kick him out? In this weather?

You quickly shake your head, hand slowly pulling itself back from your knee. He whines in protest, quickly trying to force himself back under your heat. The touch of your hand warmed him up more than anything else in this room– more than the blankets, more than the heater or the warm towels.

His hand tangles itself with your own, pulls you back to his covered knee. Keeps your hand in place with his own while he uses the other to eat. Good. This is better. He likes it when you touch him. The way your small hand feels wrapped in his own.

Makes the tips of his fingers tingle, warmth spread throughout his skin. This is right. This is good.

“Why would I kick you out?” You ask in disbelief, either unnoticing or uncaring to the way he holds your hand– he’s unsure. Not that it matters much! “It’s too cold for anyone out there. I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

He smiles, the pit of his stomach only warming more at your words, “Good.”

“We have to wait for the snow to melt to drive you ba–” He cuts you off once again, not wanting to think about going back. At least not without you.

“My friend Taehyung leaves a lot,” He begins to explain, fingers squeezing your own as his palm lays heavy against the back of your hand, “He always talks about how fun it is. All the cool things he gets to see, you know?”

He places his plate to the side while he talks, licking one of his fangs gently. You don’t want to think about how handsome he looks while he does such an action.

“So I wanted to try it out, but we’re not really supposed to leave, you know? ‘Cause then we’re not protected.” You nod along, “And I don’t really have wings to fly out so… I had to wait until they weren’t really paying attention.”

“And that just happened to line up right before the snowstorm was supposed to hit.” You finish for him and he nods, looking down at his lap, “That has gotta be such shitty luck, Jimin. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s really not, you just wanted to go out and experience new things and you almost ended up dead.” You frown at him, trying to get the man to understand the gravity of what may have happened. He simply shakes his head, plush lips tilted into a small smile just for you.

“I said it’s okay.” He tries to make you believe it, leaning closer. Feeling nothing like the stranger he was only days before. “I got to meet you, so it was all worth it.”

Mate. Mate. Mate.

Jimin has a mate that he’s going to be with someday. Someone he’s going to fall in love with. Someone he’s meant to be with, be happy with for the rest of his life. Someone that isn’t you. You really need to accept that and move on from this stupid fucking crush you’ve developed. One that will amount to nothing but heartbreak.

All hybrids have them– Jimin is not excluded from that. You know it’s true. Know it’s so true that you can hardly breathe but he just makes it so easy, too fucking easy to fall for him.

He takes care of the house, cleans it for you whenever there is a mess. Does the dishes after dinner. Takes out the trash. Tells the spiders in the yard not to mess with you– okay, you’re not entirely sure he does that last one. But he is adamant he can speak to them, and who are you to rain on his little spidey parade.

As the seasons change and the months pass, he only makes it easier and easier. Fitting into your life like he was the only piece missing. Filling in all of the bits and pieces you never knew you needed, wrapping silk around your heart and pulling it tight before you could ever think about letting him go.

Even as the months heat and his deep blue roots grow out from his bleached hair, he has no desire to the place he once called home. The reserve quickly pushed aside every time you try to bring it up. Saying he likes it better here, that this is now his home.

To be honest, nothing makes you more happy. Nothing in the world could possibly make you feel better than Jimin. His little webs he places in the corners, the soft way he clings to you when he becomes needy, the way he likes to show you any bugs he catches before he eats them. You’re not sure you could continue in your life without it.

Yet still, still. You’re not sure if this is right. The right thing, the right way to go about it all.

You often fear that you’re keeping him from what he really wants, if he actually wants to go back but feels indebted to you in some way. If that’s the only reason he actually sticks around.

You worry you’re being selfish in that regard. And then once again you find yourself spiralling into the void of questions you could never have answered. Feelings that will always be unaccounted for because Jimin has a mate.

Or at least, will have one. Someday. And you’re not sure if you could handle that day coming. Not in the warm heat of spring, flowers blooming alongside feelings for an arachnid that has entered your life.

One that has no intention of leaving your side anytime soon, if he has anything to say about it.

But nothing, nothing in the world could prepare you for this. What could prepare the thrum of your heart or the butterflies in your tummy? You never expected him to hold you this close, keep your body pressed against his own in the small space of the coat closet. Keep his face tucked away in your neck, whining in pain at something you could never think to discern.

So quickly you were pulled away, without a second to waste you were dragged onto his lap. One second kicking off your shoes, covered in mud from gardening, the next a hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you into the dark confines. Only Jimin there to cover up your scream, lips delicately pressed to your ear uttering a quiet please. Voiced laced with a whine so pained you couldn’t help but join him without a second to spare.

A thought to think– a debate on whether this is right to do or not, for yourself and your own heart.

“Min? Min, what’s wrong?” It’s the only thing you can think to ask, pulling him away from your neck, making his head face your own. Hands gently cupping either cheek as your eyes attempt to make out the features of his face.

It’s too dark, you can’t see anything. The only answer he gives is in the form of a pained groan, not even his eyes reaching you through the darkness. You start to panic, feel the nerves along your spine light up in trepidation.

He’s hurt. He has to be. What happened? Is he okay? He’s never acted like this before. Not with you. Never before has he seemed so hurt, so dishevelled save for the night you first met him.

Just before this the two of you were gardening, mid-morning sun shining bright overhead. A light breeze passing through the trees keeping the two of you cool. That was it! He only went inside a few minutes before you, a few minutes alone and he was already hurt this bad.

Oh god, you never want him to hurt. To be in pain. It hurts your heart just as bad as it hurts him, if not worse.

You’ve fallen a lot farther than you thought.

“Min, let me just turn on the lights okay? Let me see what’s wrong.” You try to coax him, try to kneel from his lap to reach the string above you. Panic flooding through you as he keeps you snug, keeps you from helping him.

You stop your struggle, veins running cold as he lets out a sharp, violent hiss. A sound he’s never made before, never dare uttered towards you– around you in general. It leaves you nervous, scared for entirely different reasons than before.

But one thing is clear from the way his fingers dig into the skin of your wrist almost painfully. The same wrist that was reaching for the string. He doesn’t want you to turn on the light.

“Okay…okay I won’t…” You tell the arachnid, slowly lowering yourself back onto his lap. Letting go of the struggle, letting go of the resistance. It isn’t what he needs right now, isn’t what he wants.

His grip loosens, arms returning to their place around your waist. Holding you close. Keeping you in his arms. His face nuzzles back into your neck, inhaling deeply with every breath he takes. Smelling you. Imprinting the memory of it in his brain.

“What if I use my flashlight…? Would that be okay?” Once again, the response is a much short, quieter hiss. A lot less defensive, angry than the first. Just a sign of dismissal.

“Okay…” You say quietly, bringing one arm behind him to gently run through his hair. Scratching his scalp in a way that always has him preening, “Can you please tell me what's wrong? So I can help…? Please…”

Your voice is quiet, almost a beg as you ask him. He squeezes your body tighter in response. Would’ve basked in the tone you gave him if not for the pounding behind his eyelids. Still, he knows if he’s going to get you to stay, he has to talk. No matter how much it hurts.

A whine leaves his lips, nose running along the column of your neck as he tries to scent you, “Hurts.”

He answered, his voice shaky and quiet, but it gives you nothing.

“I know Min, I know…” You hush quietly, trying to consol something that you do not have the answer to. Your other hand slowly starts to soothe up and down his back, trying to relax the poor boy enough to speak.

“The light. Hurt eyes. Head Hurts.” He gruffs out, burying his face into your skin to block out any other source that he could.

Your lips part in a soft ‘o’ as the picture becomes clear to you. Staying outside too long, helping you in the garden had come at a cost to the poor spider in the form of a splitting headache.

How could you have been so dumb to let him help you? The articles you’ve read, the pieces you’ve tried to put together to understand the man in your life– they told you as much. How delicate some species' eyes could be but… Jimin never seemed to have that issue before. Never mentioned it, anyway. He doesn’t mention a lot about himself.

You frown.

“Min, I’m so sorry…”

He only grumbles in reply, blunt nails digging into the back of your shirt to keep himself grounded. To keep his head from pounding any louder.

“Let me– Let me go get you some Ibuprofen, yeah?” You hope the sound of your voice isn’t making everything worse. If it does, he doesn’t say anything, only shaking his head, burrowing it further under your hair.

“Just… stay.” He sighs in defeat, shoulders relaxing as he holds you close. He doesn’t need medicine. He doesn’t need anything else. He just needs you. Why can’t you understand that?

“I’ll–” You breathe, trying to force the flush of your cheeks to disappear. He can see in the dark, you know that much. You wouldn’t want him seeing this. The effect he has over you. Doesn’t he know how dangerous he is?

“I’ll stay.”You sigh in defeat, unaware to the pride that blooms in his chest at the battle won. The quiet chirp from his throat that he has you here, with him. Where you’re meant to be.

Hours pass just like that, just the two of you wrapped in each other's arms. No words spoken but quiet requests to know the other is okay. That the other is safe. Even as your muscles begin to cramp, bones start to become sore you don’t dare to move. Don’t dare to do a thing when you are the only one that matters to him right now.

Jimin makes it so easy to pretend.

Especially as his migraine begins to lift, as the conversation between two souls becomes more frequent. As he moves your body to the side so your head can rest against his chest. As his fingers smoothe over the skin of your thigh, rubbing gentle, comforting circles into your flesh.

“And then Namjoon, you know how bad a flyer he is, ran straight into the director of the park. Made her spill her whole coffee all over.” He smiles to himself as he tells the story of the bee hybrid, eyes heavy as he looks down at your form. So cute and small, “and you know what he said?”

You shake your head, “what?”

“‘You need some honey?’” He recites, dipping his voice in a deeper octave to mimic what you can only assume to be Namjoon’s. His voice falling into quiet giggles, you quickly follow suit. Laughing at stories of friends, feeling at home in the dark closet.

You don’t care how long the two of you have been in there. Only that he isn’t in pain anymore.

“I’m glad you’re okay now.” You tell him, eyes feeling heavy, the soothing tremor of his voice vibrating in his chest making your head start to fog. Inklings of sleep slipping into your frame. Head lulling back against him, looking up at him with sleepy eyes.

He nods, his throat constricting at just how perfect you look there, fingers teetering on the brink of digging into your skin once more. “Feeling a lot better… my vision is still a little spotty but it's okay.”

You pout. He has to hold back a coo. Too cute. Do you even know how cute you are when you get like this? Probably not.

“No, it’s not okay. I should have known. Told you to go back inside so you don’t get hurt. I don’t like it when you get hurt.”

His heart pounds once, twice before he releases a shaky exhale. Do you know what you do to him when you talk like that? When you show him just how much you care?

The level of restraint he has, it has to be impressive. If he was Taehyung, he would have taken you right there. Wrapped your arms in webs so you couldn’t move. Mate you without a second thought.

Seriously, what did you think you were doing? Talking to him like that? Making him feel like he’s going insane, a few short strings from breaking free and just taking you to his nest. Keeping you there.

You can’t say things like that to him. Not with how innocent you look, with how terribly he already wants you.

A harsh breath comes out of his nose as he forces the thoughts away. He’s not Taehyung. He’s not going to take you for his own selfish desires alone. No, he’s going to keep lulling you into his web like he knows you want. Knows you need. Keep being a good little spider for you.

“I should have told you.” He says quietly, lips coming down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, “Couldn’t have known my species is sensitive like that.”

You hum in quiet annoyance, “Still… read online about some glasses that can help some insects manage light… should have bought them.”

A courting gift? No no, you don’t know what that is. No matter what his spider screams he knows that isn’t true.

He sighs, he needs a distraction. Something to calm the voice in his head screaming at him to kiss you.

Your leg kicks out gently as he starts, feeling like nothing but a feather tickling across your skin. Gentle silks laying across the surface from his wrists, spinnerets hard at work to produce the webbing he places on your thigh.

He huffs quietly, a smirk of a laugh coming out as he moves your leg back, “Tickles?” He asks, an amused lilt present in his voice. Oh god, he’s going to start teasing you again. He loves teasing you.

“What are you doing?” You ask quietly, eyes glancing down to where his fingers move expertly. Thread after thread moving through his fingers, decorating your skin as he draws pictures. Paints flowers, sunsets, anything he can think of really across the canvas of your thigh.

“Just drawing… calms me down.” Marking you, claiming you. Showing every other arthropod that this one is his, this one is Jimins’. Well, at least for the next 3 days when the stick wears off. “Do you want me to stop?”

A tingle runs through your spine as he works, eyes not able to leave his hands for even a second. Your stomach swarms with what has to be a hive of bees, your core bubbling with something you don’t want to describe or think about.

You just hope he can’t smell you. Can’t hear the race of your heart, the increase in breath. The flush on your cheeks that travels all the way to your ears.

He can.

“N-no… It’s okay. I want you to feel better so… do what you need to do.” You mumble, trying to get your feelings to calm down before you fully lose it.

You have to buy those glasses.

Being a spider is just too difficult!

At least that’s what Jimin has told you time and time again over the past 8 months you’ve spent with him. Cold, icy months blossoming into the summer heat with him by your side. With him making residence in your home, cementing his place in your life without any regards for going back to his original home.

It’s too hard for him out there anyway! People at the park think you’re scary so they won’t give you any snacks, security removes your webs when they become too prominent around the landscape. Something about having to “give other spiders a chance” and them “taking up too much space.”

Can you believe them?! All the time and effort he put into his pretty webs, gone in a flash! The strain the sun caused his eyes, the pounding headaches he endured stringing up pieces of silk along the trees, creating a beautiful orchestra of white to claim his territory.

Thank god he doesn’t have to deal with that anymore, at least. Ever since you bought him those sunglasses, making webs outside has never been easier. Catching prey so much easier than ever before.

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the sight of him eating the bugs he catches, but who are you to yuck his yum? You know all of the things he’s had to endure as a spider. Everything he’s convinced the world hates him for simply based on his breed alone. The least you can do is show kindness around his diet.

That’s how you end up rubbing his back in soothing circles time and time again, fangs piercing a stuffed animal or piece of fruit– anything he can get his hands on really, as he whines, flinches as he spits out all of his venom.

His venom is one of the worst things he’s had to deal with, you’ve learned. It builds up behind his teeth, waiting to be used on a waiting victim when there is no such thing. No exit point for the liquid to flow.

His fangs begin to ache, begging to pierce something just to release all of the pent up tension in his gums. It hurts too bad, too much to just keep it inside. So once a month, you find yourself in the same position, trying to help him relieve the aggression with soothing, gentle words as he spits the venom out in a way you can only imagine is unsatisfying. Leaving his fangs sensitive and achy for days to come.

In general, his fangs seem to be a point of special contention within the hybrid. They’re too pointy, cause too many issues. The extended canines digging into his plush lower lip just a little too hard making every movement just a little too uncomfortable. God, and he has to worry about brushing them to perfection– keep them pretty for his mate.

At least, that’s what he tells you.

The rest of the world hurts him. You don’t.

Today especially. At least that's what you can assume by the stretch of his arms, the whine bubbling from the back of his throat. His arms reaching for your form, beckoning you, calling you to join him on the couch. All worked up, acting like a wounded puppy that needs nursing just to get your attention.

It always works. Always will.

Some would say he’s become more pushy— more desperate for your attention, forcing it from your grasp without realizing it yourself. That’s what your friends have told you. How easily you fit into the palm of his hand with no more than a simple gesture coaxing you forward into his sweet embrace, never noticing the glares he sends others who enter your home.

No, you would deny all of it. Listen when he tells you that you don’t need your friends anyway. It just feels so good to be needed by him, wanted by him in a way you can never have him. In whatever way he’s willing to give.

r weakness than ever before. No matter how much you’ve tried to avoid it, how much you’ve tried to do the right thing and shove the stupid, pesky feelings down, he’s managed to twist himself into the confines of your heart. Filling a deep hole inside with his pretty silks and crooked little teeth. Takes up a lot more space then you’d ever be willing to admit. Not to him, anyway. Not when he could find his mate any day now.

You’ve been thinking about it more and more lately– the prospect of his mate. It’s difficult not to when he treats you so kindly. When he creeps in your bed at night to cold you, when he reaches out for your comfort alone. When he graces your neck with his fangs his lips–

You drop the dishes back in the sink, shoving your thoughts back into the deep dark recesses of your mind. Maybe if you can be his comfort for now, that will be enough. Even if it isn’t right.

Maybe that’s just how far you’ve fallen, how much he’s tangled you in his embrace. Not that it matters much, you smile all the same. Abandoning your task on only his third whine and fourth dramatic roll of the night. Giving in is so easy when it’s him.

But! It’s a new record for how long you’ve held out! Even got two stomps out of him. You should be proud of yourself.

Maybe you are, though it's for different reasons entirely as Jimin grabs at your wrists, pulling you down beside him. Nudging his face into the crook of your neck with a quiet, pained whine.

You like to ignore those other reasons. They’ll only hurt more if you face them head on. But it's hard to, so hard when he’s this close. When he’s holding you like you may just be the very thing from shattering his world apart.

Or maybe you’re over thinking things.

Yeah. It’s probably that.

“Y/n…” You feel his lips ghost your neck as he whines, wiggling slightly in discomfort.

His duality is always impressive, has been making your brain go a little haywire since he first moved in, since he became more comfortable in your presence. Letting you see him for what he really is. Always playing so cute, so pliant when he needs something– attention, food, for you to just give in and give him what he wants.

Other times he acts as if he could be the reincarnation of Arachne herself. Beautiful, deceptive. Terrifyingly aware of how attractive he is to the human eye. You think he does it on purpose. Likes to see your head spin as you try to keep up with which apparition of Jimin you will experience that day.

He doesn’t know how dangerous it can be, especially for you. How easy it can be to believe that it's real and not just the flirt of his personality. At least you have cute Jimin for now. It’s a little easier to manage.

“You okay Minnie? Something happen?” Your arm reaches up for where he clings to it, fingers gently petting through his fluffy blonde hair. The action seems to soothe him, make him almost pur from the feeling of your fingers alone. Make him feel the slightest bit better from whatever might be irritating him.

He forces his wrists onto your lap, nuzzles his face further into your neck. Inhale all the scents you have to offer. Let you see the issue of spiders.

The tiny holes of his spinnerets come into view, red and inflamed. Shit. They have to be hurting. The skin jutting out slightly more than it should be. Pretty strings of silk hanging in a messy manner. Clogged glands always hurt. Always make for issues.

You frown at the sight, delicately taking his wrist into your hand, looking at it closer. No, not too bad you have to take him to the doctor… you can handle it fine. But it won’t feel good, it never does. Dummy must’ve gotten too excited while webbing up the basement again, got his poor spinnerets working too hard. Overproducing silk to the point it has nowhere to go.

“Min!” You whine, already grabbing a pair of tweezers from the side-table– you’ve learned it’s always good to have a pair on-hand. “I told you that you gotta be more careful!”

“I know!” He hisses almost pathetically, “Just got ahead of myself!”

His voice is no more than a grumble, turning his head away from you yet not pulling away in the slightest. Pretending he hates when you scold him, when you show just how much you care about him.

You pretend it isn’t cute in much the same way.

“Always end up getting ahead of yourself,” You sigh dramatically, acting as if having to take care of the arachnid bothers you more than it actually does. Truth be told, you don’t care in the slightest. Who knows, maybe it even makes you preen in delight.

Feeling wanted as your fingers try to be as gentle as possible while removing the silk. Pulling out the little pieces strand by strand, work out the knot it's made under the skin to try and bring him some relief.

Though, no matter how careful you may be, he still flinches in pain all the same. Trying to cover it up like it was nothing, like every poke and prod doesn’t hurt. Like he can be tough under your gentle hands and pained gaze. He knows it has to be done and no matter how much you hate to see him in pain, you do too.

The dull ache will grow worse and worse, could even turn into an infection if you don't handle it as fast as possible. Worst case? He may have to have his spinnerets removed completely. A fate that feels worse than death to a spider hybrid– or so you’ve read at least.

Soon after he came into your life you did everything in your power to learn as much about his species as possible. Scoured webpage upon webpage, blog post on blog post, youtube video after youtube video. Even went down the sticky threads of a reddit rabbithole to try and learn everything about him.

The only thing you found: how horrible arthropod hybrids are treated in your society. Either sold at auction for absurd prices or cast aside completely depending on how “inhuman” they look. How they are used as tools to show wealth or are discarded from the rest of the world completely. The notion alone had pissed you off to no end.

Jimin was a member of the latter group– or at least that’s what you assumed. From behind no one would be able to tell he was any less than human. His lack of multiple limbs or fluttering wings left him to the devices of the reserve. Probably cast aside, dropped off by the people that raised him for not providing anything that went along with their definition of ‘value’.

Your eyes pinch into a quiet glare. They’re just fucking stupid. Anyone could see that Jimin is perfect. Anyone could see that he did not deserve the treatment he's received, nor deserved to be in the state he was in when you first found him.

And while you’re glad he didn’t end up with anyone else, still didn’t end up in an auction house like many others had, you hate them for thinking they could define his value. That they could define him for more than what he lacked. He still has beautiful fangs. Still has beautiful eyes and his natural cobalt-blue hair. He is still perfect to you.

A sharp hiss leaves his lips, arm attempting to jerk back from your hold as your grip tightens just a hair too hard. As you accidentally tug on a far too sensitive part of the knot. Getting a little too lost in your head while your fingers pick away diligently. Trying to ease the pain as fast as you can.

“Human!” He whines, quickly shushed by a flurry of apologies leaving your mouth. Face flushed, panic in your eyes as he admonishes you.

Once again you’re reminded all too well of how far you’ve fallen for him. Heart racing, brain yelling at itself for hurting him.

It’s dumb, you know that. Everything about the schoolgirl crush you’ve formed on him is. But it doesn’t stop the frown on your lips, the gentle rub of your fingers into his skin as you try to make it up to him.

A quiet grumble leaves his lips, heart hurting at the little dejected expression you wear. He forgives better than he forgets, moving his arms back to the pillow propped on your lap, allowing you to continue your work.

A pout stays on his lips as he watches your hands move. Watches the way the tweezers move under the thin layer of skin. Watches the way you move softer now, taking your time with him. Trying your utmost to not hurt him again.

To you it feels far too intimate. To him, it leaves him almost feral.

“Been working really hard on them lately, haven’t you?” Your voice sounds, trying to distract him or yourself from wandering thoughts– you’re not sure. He’s almost clean– almost all better so you can stop playing nurse. Get a warm washcloth to soothe the skin, take away any ache that lasts from the overused glands.

He nods, “Autumn is coming up…” He mumbles, the words leaving his lips in almost a shy fashion. Like it’s a secret that isn’t a secret at all in the coy fashion he knows you adore.

He knows all too well all of the things that make your stomach flutter. Listens to your heart beat like it’s his favourite song, the flush of your cheeks his favourite painting. Every little twitch of your lip or tap of your feet he catches with ease. You are his favourite everything.

You’ve become far more interesting than any book, far more gorgeous than any actress. Learned to read you better than yourself.But he supposes that would happen to any hybrid who had to wait as long as him, endure as much as he has.

Humans are tricky things, you know? You have to wait and wait and wait just for them to finally give into what they really want. Play the long game to win a prize at the end like he wants, deserves.

He’ll win it soon. August.

“Mmm? Having a contest with the house spiders or something?” You giggle, an effort to try and keep the atmosphere as light as possible. Try to distract from any pain he may be feeling at the moment.

Jimin is convinced he can speak to them– the house spiders that you allow to stay in the corners of your house. Another one of Jimin’s pitfalls that you couldn’t help but wonder into. He claims that they’re his friends, that he talks to them all the time. You, on the other hand, are unconvinced. They probably just use him for food!

“How did you know?! Who told you!” He gasps in mock surprise, head dipping low to rest on your shoulder before he continues, “No, not this time…they all know I would win anyway.”

“I know you would,” He doesn’t allow you in the basement to look at them, at least he hasn’t in the last month, but you’ve seen plenty strung around the house. Dotted in the corners of each room, his way of claiming territory. “You’ve always got such pretty silk.”

His face flushes– he knows you can’t see it. It’s good if you don’t, better if you have no clue how much your words affect him. Exactly how much those words mean to him.

Hopefully you will soon enough. Hopefully, if things go according to plan, you’ll know a lot of things. But right now you just need to stay a little clueless. Just for a little longer.

That’s what he promises to himself.

“What’s happening in autumn then?” You ask, finally pulling the last bit of silk from his left wrist. Both finally clean, finally working like they should be.

Taking each wrist into one of your hands, your thumbs find the openings to the spinnerets. Fingers rubbing gentle, soothing circles into the flesh. Your version of a little makeshift massage. One that always causes him to fall apart under. Spine slumping, mouth parting slightly as he watches your fingers work. His brain going a little empty along with the soothing motion of your fingertips.

Another thing that you don’t understand the intimacy of. The extent of what your touch means to him. How terribly it makes him want to bite you.

His voice is a pitch lower than before. You can’t help but notice the way his breath stutters in his throat at the gentle movement of your thumbs. The way his pupils expand ever so slightly. The way he leans into your touch, avoids eye contact at all costs.

You can’t help the blush that dusts your cheeks, the flutter of your ribcage. The way you keep going just because you know it’s making him feel good.

Stop it! You’re thinking in a bad way again! It isn't right! It’s just from the massage, the relief after his spinnerets are cleared! God, you can’t think about him like this. Can’t do this to yourself! Calm down, seriously. None of this is a big deal.

You know he can hear fast your heart is beating regardless of the argument going on inside of your brain.

“Autumn is mating season.” Your thumbs stutter.

Oh. That is something all of the articles definitely neglected to tell you. They didn’t tell you anything about… that aspect of spiders. Not that they explained much to begin with but certainly nothing about breeding.

You can’t help the way your grip tightens, trying to find purchase– stability at the revelation. Heart thrumming in your chest faster, more aggravated than before. The chill that travels down your spine with the hum of his voice so close to your ear.

Can’t help the sinch of jealousy that finds you either.

Fuck, you hate that he’s smirking– without even looking at his face you can tell! You know he can hear the exact pitter-patter of your heart, any little sound or smell you let out he can easily pick up. Knows your exact emotions before you know them yourself.

“Ah… I see.” This topic really shouldn’t make you so embarrassed! Pull yourself together!

You know that all hybrids have a cycle they go through. Heats, ruts, anything in between. You knew that when Jimin came into your life he would be the same! Knew there would be a time when he’d have to lock himself in the basement, body flooded with hormones. The pretty sounds you’d have to block out filling the house.

But still, because it’s him, you can’t help the nerves that arise from your core. The realisation that it would be coming sometime soon.

If you’re going to make it through you’d have to invest in some soundproof headphones. For your own sanity.

“Mmm?” He smiles, voice sweet and saccharine. Away with the pain of existing also left cute Jimin, leaving a deadly predator in its wake. One that likes to taunt and tease you while acting as innocent as an angel.

Leaves your brain confused, floundering trying to keep up with his deceptively sweet tongue. Doing it all just to get a cute little reaction out of you.

Guess he picked up on the exact little whirlwind of your mind, “You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed…”

“Shut up!” You whine, trying to stand from the couch so you can retrieve a washcloth. Try to avoid the way your heart is going to pound out of your chest, the way you know you’ll fall farther into his clutches.

His arms lock on firm, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck to rub his cheeks against your skin. Scent you just like he does a million times a day claiming that it's necessary. Spiders smell so much less than other hybrids– he has to do it or else.

Or at least that’s what he says– you think that it’s another lie.

“What!” He laughs, “Not like I’m saying anything dirty, it’s only natural.” He chides, sliding back against the couch, pulling you into his side with ease. Slotting you in like you’re meant to fit there, not whatever mate he meets in the future.

Your brain yells at itself. You know how dangerous that line of thinking is.

“Unless you want me to be dirty? I could if I wanted, you know.” He smiles as innocently as a wolf, fangs oozing with confidence behind them.

“Oh my god!” You sigh dramatically, putting on the front you always do when your heart feels like it may just explode. When you feel like digging an early grave because Jimin knows exactly what he’s doing.

You simply roll your eyes, “And I could punch you in the dick if I wanted to, you know?”

His laugh is always so pretty, boisterous yet still as light as air. Head tilting back, his neck on display as he chastises you for the empty threat. One you both know won’t come true, at least not right now.

He smiles, a gentle kiss being placed on your forehead as he urges you to stay. Promising he’ll be a ‘good little spider’ so you don’t have to worry about him. The implication of snacks and movies making you stay. The way he pouts when you tell him you’re not buying anymore BugBitez™ until the end of the week confirming that this is where you need to be right now. That it’s right.

It’s almost too easy for him too. Everything is too easy for you when it comes to Jimin. He claims the exact same.

Or at least, that’s what he mumbles in your ear now. Arms wrapped around you as tight as he can manage. Movie nearing its end with Jimin on the cusp of consciousness, you having lost the plot of it a long time ago.

Something about Aliens? Cowboys? Mothman? You couldn’t even hope to guess. Not when his breath is in your ear.

It’s hard to focus when he’s so close like this. When he’s saying pretty words that could get you lost in your fantasy over and over again. Making him harder and harder to give him up every moment that passes you by.

“Got lucky with my human.” He mumbles, half asleep, face buried in your hair, “Really good human.”

His lips move so lazily when they speak. Fangs running across the surface your skin like they have a mind of their own. Never daring to pierce the surface. Never daring to bite you for real. No matter how bad he really, really wants to.

How bad he wants to mate you. Make you his pliant little prey– see if the rumours about what his venom does to humans is real.

Your breath stutters but you pay it no mind. Trying, begging your eyes to remain focused on the movie. To ignore how deceptive sleepy Jimin is. Tomorrow, he will act as normal. His words will carry no weight.

He isn’t your boyfriend. You aren’t his mate. You two are just friends sharing a house.

Feelings you have no right to have are forced down over and over again. It seems like it's become a daily occurrence– a pattern of habit you have no hope in breaking. The love piling behind your eyelids means nothing when the person he is meant to be with could be around any corner.

But it’s getting harder. Too hard to hold them back and restrain yourself. Especially on nights like this when it feels like fate that the two of you met.

Thinking back on that fateful day now, all of those months ago, you’re sure it had to have been. Maybe the winter gods (if such a thing existed) decided to shine their light on you; to make the blizzard a little less lonely. Make your life filled with long days and even longer nights just a little bit brighter.

Or maybe they hated you and wanted you to suffer.

Wanted you to live a life knowing your affections will never be reciprocated, knowing that Jimin has a fated one out there somewhere just waiting for him. Knowing that it isn’t you. Cursing you to a life of watching Jimin fall for another.

Thinking becomes so hard when it’s about Jimin. When it’s about the man who made you so far into the pits of hell that you don’t think you’ll ever crawl out.

So instead your fingers simply squeeze his hand. Rub gentle, soothing circles into the skin. Care for him like you’re meant to instead of thinking about what the future may hold. What will happen when he does find his mate. What they might be like, what they might dress like, if they’ll have to move in here, if you’ll have to watch him fall in love over and over again every single day.

You think you might hate them.

You sigh.

No, that wouldn’t be fair. Could never be fair to Min. He deserves happiness. He deserves the world whether or not you’re a part of it.

You hope he isn’t able to pick up on the changes in your scent.

“Mmm mm, got lucky with you Min.”

August 11th.

A beautiful dream shattered by the incoherent nightmare that is your spider pacing around your room. A pillow pulled to either side of your head, doing everything in their power to drown out the noise as an audible groan leaves your lips. His nervous prattling too early in the morning for your liking.

Any other day it would be fine, you would think that it’s cute. The way he worries his lip between his teeth. The way he gently bites down on the pad of his thumb, one arm crossed while the other soothes the skin of his chin.

Any other day you’d sit in bed, listen to him. Mock him slightly with how much worry runs through his body.

But he isn’t talking about his mate any other day, is he? No, it seems that the occasion has been saved for this morning. His head running a mile a minute, losing all composure he once had before. Losing his very sense of self as anxiety courses through his veins.

“What if it isn’t good enough? I need to present it to her soon. Need to make sure everything is perfect for her.” Apparently he had met her. When? You have not a single clue. Jimin hasn’t left the house in weeks other than to go hunt bugs and to go to the grocery store with you.

“What if the web isn’t big enough? She might not like the style either…” He grumbles, eyes locked on the carpet as he moves back and forth across your room, “God and what if she hates the food… No, no you know what she likes.”

“Jimin, she’ll like everything. It will be fine.” You groan, sitting up in bed to face him, voice gruff with morning air.. You don’t want him to be in here, talking about this. Talking to you about this. Shattering your heart every second that passes by.

You knew it would happen someday, you really did. You tried to do everything right. Tried to pretend reality wasn’t creeping through your windows with every second that passes by. Try to ignore the impending sense of doom that covered your skin.

Did everything right only to end up failing once again due to the rations of Park Jimin.

You try to look at him through the fuzz in your eyes, sleep still trying to force you back into its clutches with everything that it has. Try to see what he is doing– understand what he is saying. His voice continuing to speak yet not fluent enough for you to actually understand. His body twitches ever so slightly, head jerking as his teeth dig deeper and deeper into his thumb. It was almost like you weren’t even in the room– not to him at least. Lost within the tangles of his brain.

Pulling himself deeper and deeper into the recesses of his mind, spiralling out of control of everything that seems rational, everything that he is meant to do or meant to say. It’s almost like he isn’t in the room at all. Isn’t pacing along your floor, surrounded by your scent. Comforting his inner spider before it loses control entirely with the hormones that rush through his veins.

August 11th. The date was circled 5 times on his calendar– red exclamation points, doodles scattered across the stupid day. Yet now, for the life of him he can’t seem to remember why. He can’t seem to remember much of anything though, so that isn’t a surprise. Only his web. The gifts he’s prepared for this day. Yeah. Those are the only things he can seem to think about.

A hand lands on his shoulder– one that isn’t his own. Who’s touching him? He isn’t sure. Isn’t sure of much other than the smell combing through the room that becomes sweeter and sweeter by the second. Honey he is unable to resist.

Especially with how soft the hand is that touches him. How gentle it is on his shoulder, his pace back and forth falling just so he can revel in it. Understand it.

“Hey Min.” Oh. It’s you. Your voice coming through the fog. Your voice startling him from the dream.

Gorgeous, gorgeous you.

Mate.

“It’s gonna be okay, yeah?” Why do you sound sad? No, maybe it’s distressed. His face falls.

No, no, no. You shouldn’t be sad. You should never be sad. You should always be happy with him. You should love him. His love should make you whole. Your love makes him whole.

Wait, does he have your love yet?

Now he isn’t sure.

All he knows is that he should. You should. He should wrap you up in his nest, hold you close until you feel nothing but him. Don’t think about anybody else. Look at anybody else. You should always be happy and safe. Happy and safe with him just like he feels with you. Has always felt with you.

More than that stupid reserve. More than his webs back there. It was fate that brought the two of you together, right? Right? So he should be allowed to indulge just a little. He should be allowed to let go of this stupid, fucked up play he’s been putting on for so long. He should be allowed to do whatever he wants.

The reserve always taught him he was a wild spider, you know?

Wait, spider.

Spider.

His rut. That’s what’s coming today. That’s why the day was circled. That’s why Jimin isn’t acting like himself. That’s why his spider is itching, clawing to come out to play. Why he so desperately wants all of you to himself.

He hasn’t even presented his web yet.

He tilts his head at you, blank eyes staring down into bright ones. Ones that hold his entire world at your fingertips.

“There he is.” Your smile is almost blinding. Makes his head pound just like the sun's rays.

That’s right. That’s why he needs to keep his composure. To keep that smile on your lips. To keep you happy. To keep you falling in love with him slowly the human way. The way he knows you’d prefer. Knows you adore every second of.

He isn’t Taehyung. He isn’t Taehyung.

The human way is better. Better at keeping you pliant. Better at keeping you happy. Better at keeping you unafraid.

He hates when people are scared of him. Hates when people flinch with every movement he makes. Hates when people can’t just love him like he so craves. He’s still a hybrid. He still wants love. He was bred for it just like the rest of them.

So when you came into his life, so gentle and caring despite the palpable fear that scented the air– weighed it heavily, it sparked light behind his eyes. When he felt you touch him, felt the sparks dance across his flesh and allowed himself to inhale once more. When there were no traces of fear within you, only the scent of his mate. His eternity.

He knew he had to do the right thing. Had to make you love him the human way. Had to make you fall for him, endure the wait. Endure the daily struggles of his instincts just so you would never be afraid of him. The end would be worth it.

He would never let you fear him even at the cost of his own sanity.

Because he isn’t Taehyung. He’s Jimin. He’s a good spider.

“You need to be careful Min…” You tell him quietly. Your voice is the only anchor to his shaky world. The light brought him back from the edge over and over again today.

He needs to leave your room before all of his planning goes to waste. Calm himself down. Present to you his web and all of his gifts so you can accept him properly.

“Your thumb… it’s bleeding honey…” He tilts his head again, inspects your hands as they move closer. Tries to force lucid thought from behind his heavy eyelids as you touch his skin directly.

Tries to ignore the throb deep inside as you gently remove the finger from his lips. Pull it away from the fang that was piercing him. The sting of the bite.

He hadn’t even noticed it.

He watches as a single drop spills from the abrasion. Slipping down his finger. Feels the way your hands come up to cup his cheeks.

Leave. Leave. Leave.

The way your thumb comes to his lips, worry etched across your features as you swipe away any remaining blood from his lower lip.

Leave. He needs to leave.

He isn’t sure how your finger ends up in his mouth. His plush lips wrapping around the digit, tongue curling around your flesh as he licks away the red spilled. Sucking on it gently as heat curls in his stomach. His eyes half-lidded, staring into the recesses of your very soul.

A groan passes through him at the taste of your skin. How sweet you are against his tongue. Do you even know what a vixen you are? What a tease you’ve come to be over the past 9 months?

No. Of course you don’t. Not with the blush that rushes to your cheeks. The stutter of his name that passes through his lips. The questions that you ask– what are you doing? Wh-why?

He wants you to be quiet. To enjoy you for all it’s worth. Enjoy everything you have to offer.

The command is silent– no more than the press of his bleeding thumb to your lips. The demand that you part them for him. To clean that wound that you unknowingly caused.

A hand on your cheek directing your head back. He’s been a good little spider, you can be a good little girl too, can’t you?

You are.

“J-Jimi–” He slips it inside, resting the pad against your tongue. Holding it in place. Asking, begging for this one little thing from you. You don’t mind, do you? You’ve always made him feel better before. This is no different, is it?

And so you do.

He watches the way your eyelids fall, your lips close as you begin to gently suck against it like he so craves. Like he desires down to the very cells that make up his body.

To imagine it’s his cock instead. Gently fucking into you over and over again, teaching you how to take his it how he likes. How he knows you’ll like. You’ll love everything about him. You’re meant to. It’s in the fabric of your DNA and soon it will all be his. Right after he shows you his–

Shit.

He needs to leave.

Got carried away in his fantasy. In pretending again.

His rut is coming too fast, too strong now that he finally has his mate in his grasp. He needs to leave. He needs to calm down so he can go this properly.

He leaves you on the bed, more confused and distressed than when he first entered. Annoyance hovering over your entire wake in a blanket of unrest. One that you know will not ease your soul for the rest of the day.

The spider has locked himself away. Hiding from you. Keeping himself in the basement, door locked, shutters drawn to drown out any sense of you that may be persisting.

You, on the other hand, have had nothing to do but stew in your own emotions. Think about every little decrepit detail that occurred hours prior. Edicting yourself to only address him by spider even in your thoughts.

It’s spiteful, sure. But it’s the least he deserves, you know? After everything he’s put you though– pulling you along like a little puppet on a string. Making you sit idly by for him to give you any lick of affection he’s willing to part with. Making you feel special, like you're worth something every second that he gets only for him to remind you with too much familiarity that he isn’t yours to have.

He woke you up, told you about his mate, looked at you like he was going to fuck you, and made you suck on his finger only for him to leave? The sheer fucking audacity of this man.

You’re sick of it.

Sick of having to force everything down because you know it isn’t what he wants. Sick of falling in love with him every day. Sick of having to play house. Sick of not having him. Sick of being playing the lovesick fool.

So, into the novels you fall. Into alternate worlds that are far better than your own. Displacing yourself into new habitats, new environments to escape the confines of the four stuffy walls that surround your body, head, and heart.

Into a world where it’s okay to fall in love with whoever you want. Where it’s okay to feel wanted. Where reality can be shut away by your headphones and a good snack. Where you can ignore the body approaching behind you. The tap on your shoulder.

You try to, honestly. And a good attempt it was.

Keeping your grip firm on the pages, nails digging into the paper below. Breath in your lungs held as if doing so would keep him away. Eyes tracing the pages over and over again though reading nothing. Attempting to appear as if you didn’t notice him at all.

Maybe he would leave, that was your biggest hope. Take the headphones placed firmly over your ears as a loud, obnoxious hint. That he would see you’re not interested and retreat to his basement layer to plot on the next way to torture your heart.

He doesn’t. He never would.

His frame comes to kneel in front of you. To stare up at you with those big brown doe eyes that you know you could never escape. Placing a gentle hand on your knee, trying to get you to see that he is there. That he wants to see you.

You see his lips move, though ignore entirely what they say. Letting out a huff, turning your body away from his own. Continuing to mindlessly stare at the pages even though their contents holds no meaning in this moment. No real value.

His forehead drops to your leg, a sigh leaving his throat. Words mumbled from his lips you’re unable to make out– not that you would want to hear them anyway.

Maybe it’s a temper tantrum of sorts. Giving him a taste of his own medicine. To feel even a pinch of what you do. He probably never does.

Your fight is a good one. It truly is– at least you think so. But it all comes tumbling down the second his lips press against your knee. His hands reaching past your iron grip on the book to hold your own.

You will always fall to the likes of Jimin.

Especially when you see his lips mouth the word please. His brows crested with worry, his lower lip quivering in worry. Fangs biting the surface to try and soothe the nerves he feels.

Any sense of foreboding he held earlier, gone. The tick of his shoulders, the cold, blank stare of his eyes vanished. Your Jimin, the one you’re used to, in love with, rising to the surface again.

You’re unable to fight against the plea, no matter how much you want to. Unable to fight against him.

“What is it.” Your voice is harsh as you remove your headphones, setting the book to the side. Much more than it appears he’d like it to be if the flinch of his neck is anything to go by.

“I…” Words feel lost in his throat, but he forces himself to continue forward, “I have something I need to show you, human…”

Why is he acting so weird? Acting like earlier never happened? He seems nervous, almost petrified at your reaction. As if anything you say could break him entirely.

You don’t understand it at all. Anything about this situation, really.

“Okay…?” You watch his face carefully, trying to reason. To figure out why exactly the air seems so heavy. Why this situation feels so tense. “Show me then?”

“I…You have to come with me?” It sounds like a question, his face flinching at his own words. He’s meant to do this perfectly. Why can’t he seem to get it right? Why can’t his instincts help him with this? “Like, I can’t bring it up here… I need you to follow me?”

“Huh?” The quiet breath leaves your throat as your features pinch.

He quickly tries to explain further, trying to help you see through the worry on your face, “Not far I promise. Just to the basement, yeah?”

Your head jerks back in surprise, “You never let me go down there.”

“Yeah but…it’s special this time.” Oh.

It’s almost as if the pieces click together on their own. Your brain drawing conclusions, making decisions for you despite the obvious staring right in your face. His mate is probably down there. Wants you to meet her.

You can only sigh, accept your fate for what it is. Follow the boy with the string to the basement once again, just like the first night he came tumbling into your life.

“Okay.”

He holds your hand as you walk.

Holds it as if his life depends on it. As if it’s the red string of fate that has tied your two bodies together for the rest of eternity. As if he might die the second you two part. As if you might run away the second he lets go.

You never do, never try to run away from him. You’ve tried to run away from your feelings for so long. The least you can do is see through to the end of them, right? That would be the right thing to do. The dignified thing instead of trying to throw a tantrum on the floor.

The walk to the basement feels like the longest in your life. A marathon you have no training for, no experience with tugging you along. Silence extended for miles along each creak of the floorboards, each set of the dim stairs.

Jimin left the lights off, dusk settling along the horizon not long ago. Only distant flickers from the basement coming through as you make your way down. Candle light in the distance lighting the way.

He doesn’t say a thing as your feet reach the bottom of the stairs, toes cushioned by soft silk lining the floors. He doesn’t have to.

It’s beautiful. That’s the only way you can describe what he’s turned the basement into.

Beautiful silks cover every waking surface– the floors, the walls, the ceiling all lined in brilliant patterns of white dancing across the surface. Creating stories as if they were living themselves.

You wish you could stare at them. Admire them for the rest of your life. Decipher each piece laying, coating the surface. Envisioning the world through the eyes of Jimin. Through the world around him.

Webs cross from floor to ceiling, taking space over the room. Intricately laid in patterns you are more accustomed to with spiders. Webbed hatching sectioning off parts of the space, acting as furniture for the bug to rest on.

As your eyes scan the room, you finally find what you think has to be the most gorgeous web in the world. Sitting in the far right corner of the room stands a nest that takes up the entire corner. The effort it took to make it clear in its craft. So soft, so comfortable.

You almost want to curl up in it yourself.

Illuminated by only the glow of candle light, Jimin does nothing but watch as you take everything in. Watch as your face changes into that of euphoria. Mesmerised by everything he has worked so hard on, everything he’s done just to impress you.

You turn to face him, staring at him with nothing but wonder in your eyes.

“Jimin, this is– fuck this is incredible,” Your voice is breathless, cut off by how overwhelmed you are with everything. With him. “This must’ve taken you so long, it’s so beautiful. Oh my god, how did you–”

He can’t take it anymore. Can’t take it now that he has you here, has you in his web. Now that he can keep you in it forever. Complimenting him. Completing him. He needs to finish with the rest of this fast. Before he does something he’ll regret. Before he finishes showing you how good a mate he will be to you properly.

He tugs you forward, practically puzzling as he tugs you deeper into his room of webs. Expertly guiding you through each one without a second to spare.

Jittery, excited. Feeting rocking themselves back and forth as he sits you on a blanket placed on the ground.

He isn't going to last much longer. Not before his heat takes over. Before he loses his mind at you in the sight of his nest. His mate in his nest. Waiting to be bred. Waiting for–

No, no Jimin. Stop it. Stop acting like a spiderling that doesn’t know what to do with himself now that he has his mate in his nest.

“I…” He takes a deep breath, voice shaky as he tries to calm himself down, “I made us a picnic… I hope you like it.”

His spider hisses at the words, hating having to describe it as something stupid like a picnic. No, it's a nuptial gift. Evidence that he’s a good enough mate. That he’s good enough for you. That he deserves you.

You watch him, watch as he pushes the basket filled to the brim with food over to you. Watch as his frame shakes slightly as he stares at you, fingers tapping against strings of webs closest to your leg.

You can’t help but feel lost. Overwhelmed with affection, but utterly, entirely, hopelessly lost all the same. What is he doing? Why is he presenting all of this for you? Shouldn’t he be doing this for his mate? Isn’t all of this some type of courting ritual?

Oh.

It appears the puzzle you constructed– pieces matched together haphazardly stuck together with glue isn’t the solution after all. Isn’t the reality presented before you know.

You’re… you’re Jimin’s mate?

Your eyes widen, head jerking to meet Jimin’s gaze. His pupils shaky, not daring to leave the surface of the basket. Not daring to move an inch until you accept him.

You’re an idiot.

“J-Jimin a-are we…?” You hesitate to ask, hesitate to break the gentle balance residing over the entire basement.

His head snaps to face your own, eyes plagued with the same blank, predatory look as before.

“Mate.” Deep, harsh, scratchy. His voice makes you feel like he’s going to devour you whole. Like he is the monster waiting in the deepest recesses of your nightmares when that couldn’t be farther from the truth. When in reality he is the very being your soul yearns for stronger than any other.

The revelation, the– everything leaves you overwhelmed. Emotions strung up for the stars, casting aside any comets that tried to hurdle towards the perfect glass encasing this moment. This eternity you wish to live in forever as you finally understand that he wants you just as much as you want him.

You can’t help but grab his cheeks– ignore how venomous he looks, and press your lips against his own. Can’t help the explosion behind your eyelids, the sparks that travel across your skins in euphoric waves. The way your heart swells like a balloon, racing in your chest so fast you fear you may die.

Every emotion you’ve felt that day, every nagging, creeping sensation finding its way into the back of your skull vanishes in an instant. No going back. No orchestra or chorus reprise. No thoughts of not being his mate. You are his mate.

Only him.

Only Jimin.

He doesn’t part with you, not for a second. Not when he finally has you against him. When you so easily rise into his lap. When his natural instincts finally stop screaming at him and take over completely. Kiss you with everything he’s worth. Devour you whole.

His hands find purchase on your hips, blunt nails digging into the skin. Mocking him for not doing this in the closet with you all those months ago. Allowing him to truly understand how good it would’ve felt then. How good it will feel every second that follows.

He thinks you have to be the prettiest thing in the world.

His spider thinks that you need to be bred full of his spiderlings. Fucked so hard that you wont be able to walk– wont be able to leave his nest. That he’ll be able to tie you up nice and pretty, stuff you with his cum over and over again until you’d never even think about leaving.

His spider is winning.

“Min…” Your voice is breathless, trying to keep up with the flurry of kisses he presses against your lips, your face– anywhere he can reach. It’s like he’s addicted to the feeling, like he’s making up for lost time.

“Min, I love you.” And just like that, any sanity he has left vanishes.

His spider has won.

Without a second thought you’re lifted from your place on his lap, thrown carelessly into his nest. His nest where you will stay. His nest where he’ll keep you. All thoughts vanished from that pretty little head of yours. Just like it should be.

His hands find the back of his collar, shirt discarded without a second thought on the floor. He doesn’t need it anymore. Not when he has you. When he wants to feel you fully.

You can only stare– fawn at his tan skin. The gentle muscles on display for you. For your eyes only while he crawls towards you. Stalks you just like they might a pretty little butterfly caught in their web. Wrapped in webs and killed without a second thought.

His lips find yours once again. Slotting together, filling the other to make them whole. Dazed in lust and passion, neither soul hoping there would ever be a way out for the other.

Well, there won’t be for you. But that’s okay. You’ll love it. Love every second of it.

He knows it as his fingers dance against your skin. Sliding beneath the hem of your shirt, running with skilled ease up your sides. The chill that racks through your body is evidence enough. The way you so easily allow him to draw your shirt over your head solidifies it. Your shorts follow, making it set in stone.

Your breath comes out in short pants, every slight touch, every little movement sends fire burning through your skin. Igniting you, setting your core ablaze with heat that only he can extinguish.

Fingers gently sliding over your ribs, thumbs coming just blow your breasts to rub circles into the skin while his fangs nip gently into your lower lip. He can’t bite you now. No, after he mates you he can bite you all he wants.

He groans at the thought, hips rocking themselves against your clothed cunt. Allowing you to feel all of him– the press of his cock, the motion of his need allowing you to fall higher and higher into a heaven you did not think possible.

You whine at him to do something, anything. Too impatient to wait any longer. Too impatient to live a second more without something, anything buried inside of you.

His smile is sick, twisted as he reclines back on his heels. Allows himself to get a good look at you.

“Shh, Shh…” His hand cups your cheek, smoothing his thumb against your lips. Pressing it inside with more ease than before. More compliance than before. There’s a good little girl.

“Poor thing is having a hard time, huh?” He mocks gently, hips pressed firm against your own allowing you to feel every inch of him, “Pretty lips all swollen, pussy a little mess from just kissing… mm mm…”

He groans, hand slipping between your legs. What he finds is no more than a mess of a girl. Hips bucking upwards. Slick dripping from your center, panties coated in arousal. Puffy little clit begging for any attention he’s willing to give it.

Without any hesitation his thumb finds your clit, pressing against it without any thought of reprieve. Without any thought to give you any of the relief you crave. You’ve made him wait this long, you can wait a second, no?

He groans high as you buck against his hand, mewl leaving your lips as some sort of plea. Ah~ how cute. Such a little thing so desperate for something, anything that you’re willing to give up your very head in return? How cute! How adorable!

His spider preens. Is almost so belated he doesn’t notice the hands that come down to grip his wrist. Hold him in place all so you can circle your hips against his thumb. Rub adorable little rings into your clit without any help from him. Use him to make yourself feel good.

A coo leaves his lips. Who is he to deny such a pretty little human?

“Ah pretty baby wants to feel good, does she?” He almost giggles at how pathetic you look. How adorably you cling to him. How hard you try.

His arm is ripped from your grasp, pulling back from the very place you desire him most. Where your arousal soaks the cotton of cotton, so palpable he can practically taste it in the air.

“It’s okay baby…” He sees the annoyance in your face, the battiness you hold in your heart coming to light. Excited to tame it. Excited to quell the pretty little devil in his web.

Tie you up. Breed full.

Breed you.

His fingers work fast. Arms are pulled over your head, silks quickly pinning them to the surface. Strings wrapping and wrapping until he’s sure you’re secure. Sure you can’t move.

His hips gently rock against your own, clothes cock pressing against your core. Watching as your hips buck, as you try to urge him closer with a pathetic whine.

See exactly how you struggle against the strings.

Perfect, perfect girl. How did he get so lucky, huh? Can never be sure.

You’re unable to stop the cry that leaves your throat as his hands pull your panties aside, finger thrusting into your wet heat. Filling you up, making you feel a little more whole.

“Min~” The moan of his name is shaky. Every sense you have in overdrive as he works his finger against your walls. Every push inside deeper, harder. Curling against your walls in the exact way you craved.

Pleasure coils in your stomach faster than you thought possible. A second finger joining the first, pumping in and out as he prepares you for his cock. Prepared you to take all of him and nothing less.

He knows you can do it. You can, can’t you?

“Mhmm baby, I know… head a little clearer now, huh?” He chuckles, chastising, “Can only think when you’re full. It’s so cute.”

You whimper at his words, head rolling back as the coil pulls tighter and tighter within your gut. Urging you to just let it snap, feel everything you’ve been waiting for.

“F-feels good…” You mutter quietly, unable to see the haze cloud his vision. The way his amused expression drops into that of a wild animal.

Without any warning his fingers pull out of your heat, body leaving your own entirely as he stands. Grabbing your hips, dragging them closer. Flipping your body over. Setting you pretty on your knees, arms uncomfortable crossed in front of you.

He quickly rids himself of his pants, allowing his cock to spring free from their confines. Head red and messy as it hits his stomach. Angry at how neglected you’ve left him. How desperately he wants this.

You have no way of preparing yourself for the drag of his cock through your lips. The gentle nudge against your clit. Thick head dragging through your folds, spreading your arousal. Mixing it with his pre-cum.

Making you messy. Making you dirty just for him. Making you belong to him.

“Gonna fill my mate.” All humour is gone from the man behind you, as if he is someone else entirely. It’s really too bad your head has a few too many screws loose to care. Care about anything other than the way his firm head presses against your hole. The way his blunt nails dig into your flesh.

“Gonna breed her. Mate her. Make her mine.” It’s almost as if his word is a command. The very sentences he utters become law.

You can only nod your head. Give yourself to the very man that fate led you to all those months ago. “Want~”

The thrust of his hips into your walls is almost too much to bear. A cry leaving your lips as he fucks himself inside in a single thrust. Forcing you to take him to the hilt, to feel all of him stretch your walls. No break. No waiting around.

You’ve both done enough waiting.

It hurts— the burn, as he stretches you full. Presses his cock against your walls making sure your cunt remembers no one but him.

The way he gives no reprieve, fucking into you like an animal starved. Pulling back until only the tip remains inside before fucking himself fully inside once more.

“Min!” You cry, waves of pain and pleasure boiling all the same within your bones. All the same inside of your blurred head, nothing but static and thoughts of him behind the line of your eyes. Slipping off into space as you let cunt clenched pathetically around his cock.

“Good mate, taking me so well. Such a good human.” He groans, hips pulling back and thrusting into you over and over again. Making you fall apart with his pace. Pumping his cock into your pathetic little hole fast and hard. Ruining you for any other man.

Making sure he will be the only one you allow to enter heaven.

Your moans come out wanton, pleaing. Hips start to move back against him, trying to keep up with his pace despite the burn you begin to feel in your tied arms. Desperate to let him know just how good he’s filling you. Just how good he’s making you feel.

“My mate.” His pants come out harsh, breath on your neck as he hovers close. The sound of skin and against skin is the only thing you’re able to hear. The pressure of Jimin’s lips against your neck makes you feel like you’re about to go insane.

He’s desperate to make you fall apart on his cock alone. Pleasure building and building, the coil tight. Ready to snap at any moment. Ready to fall apart at his command.

“Gonna make you mine forever pretty.” His voice is featherlight once more. The switches have you reeling, your brain spinning. “Want that, don’t you? For me to bite you? Mark you up? Breed you full of my spiderlings? Ruin that pretty little head for anything else.”

He sighs, nails digging into your hips where they’re sure to leave bruises. You nod your head in agreement, moans spilling past your lips as his hips change their angle. His cock hitting the spot that leaves you seeing stars on every thrust.

“Say the word and you’re mine.” You feel his fangs against your skin. The harsh drag across your delicate skin. “Forever.”

You can’t take it anymore, pleasure burning through you. Blinding you. Unable to think about anything else other than the rough thrusts of his cock against your walls.

“Please.” It’s no more than a whimper, but he swears it’s the loudest thing he’s ever heard.

His teeth clamp into your flesh— the final thing needed to push you over the edge into bliss. Your body stutters, walls a vice around his cock as the coil finally snaps. Heat flowing through every cell you possess. The only thing in your soul is Jimin.

Your back arches, eyes dotting with black as you allow it to overtake you. Jimin rocking you against him, groaning as he fills you with his cum, painting your walls white. Allowing you to ride out your high with him. Finally allowing the rut to rid his brain for only a moment.

He slowly pulls out of you, panting. Quickly moving to cover your center back up with your underwear. Make sure all of his cum stays tucked away in your pretty little pussy to get you nice and pregnant.

You can only whimper, body twitching at every movement he makes. Worn down your bones— energy sucked so dry you can’t even feel the throb of your neck. Don’t even notice the blood that drips from where he marked you— claimed you in the way only a hybrid can.

All you're sure of is the need to be close to him. Need to feel him.

Is this what he had been feeling all along? Marks were known to do that, to allow you to feel what your mate does. If he had to endure what you’re feeling right now, it had to have been hell for him.

“Min…” you calm his name. Pull him from where he stares between your legs. Where his fingers rub circles into the surface of your underwear, spreading any cum that leaks from your twitching hole.

Within a second he’s at attention, staring at you with all of the love in the world. You’re not sure how you missed it before. How you could have deluded yourself into believing any less.

He pouts as you wiggle at your restraints, silk holding your arms in place all this time. He gently shakes his head, slowly flipping your body back over onto its back. Crawling over you to look at your face properly. Take in your fucked out expression. Ruined his pretty little human. Made her perfect.

“Don’t want to.” His lower lip juts out at you, eyes wide just like a begging dog. “Look pretty tied up in my web. Should stay like this. Forever.”

“I don’t think my job would like that very much.” You giggle, lip pouting out to match his own. He leans down, quickly capturing your mouth in a quick kiss.

Something hard pressed against your leg once more. His hand comes down to guide it against your heat. Rub against you despite the oversensitivity and cum leaking from your hole.

“Then we move to the woods together… I’ll hunt for us…” He grumbles, pushing your underwear to the side once more. Collecting any cum that has spilled out with his cock, gently fucking it back into your cunt with the head.

A whine rips from your lips due to oversensitivity. Pussy sore, aching from what he just put you though. What you aptly begged for. Yet you can’t deny him. Don’t want to deny him with how good it feels to be filled. How addicted you’ve become. Cock drunk.

“Wh-what?” You try to breathe, walls fluttering around his length as he slowly thrusts back inside. Filling you to the brim once again. “W-we can’t do that, Minnie…”

His thrusts are slow, languid. Almost like he’s making love. Treating you with utmost care despite how wrecked your entire frame is.

He is entirely unaffected. His rut leaves him wanting for more and more until you have nothing left to give. Face twisting into confusion at your words.

“Why can’t we? Make you up a nice pretty web… keep you full all the time” He hums against your neck, gently licking at his mark, “treat you like a real good mate, yeah? Fill you up over and over. Will look so pretty with my spiderlings.”

He moans the words, hips speeding up ever so slightly at the thought. It dawns on you that this must be his rut talking. Filling his head with nonsense he knows can’t come true. In a few days when he wakes up from it, he’ll probably pretend he never said anything about taking you to the woods. Keeping you there.

No harm in agreeing, is there? Especially when he makes you feel so good. So happy and full. When it makes him feel just as good. When your head starts to feel fuzzy, the exhaustion weighs heavily on your consciousness. You’re on birth control anyway, it's fine.

“Mmhmm… sounds nice..” You moan quietly, already feeling your second orgasm approaching. Allowing yourself to become lost in the same dream as him. Allowing yourself to fall victim to pretty words and false promises. Ones that he intends to make true.

“Gonna take such good care of my mate.” He groans, face buried in your neck. He feels your walls clamp around him, pulling him in over and over again. Cunt never wanting him to leave.

His hand draws between your thighs, fingers rubbing quick circles into your clit. Neither of you are going to last long. Both too sensitive to do anything but fall into the pleasure of each other.

Pussy fluttering against his cock, head rolling back as your high runs through you once more. White clouding your vision, ears ringing as you are overcome with fire. Drowning in the feeling of his cock fucking you full of his cum once again.

He lets out a harsh groan as he fills you. Breeds you just like a good spider would. Makes you feel complete as he helps you through both of your highs.

Your eyes feel heavy— too heavy to stay open even a second longer. Too tired to stay awake as he pulls your underwear back over your center. As he pulls your body close to his own.

He doesn’t blame you, never could. It must be hard having to keep up with a hybrid during their rut. But he knows you can do it. Knows you’ll do it for him. Especially with the promises you made. The ones you made only to him.

The last words you hear before falling under the veil of consciousness is a simple declaration. One you’ve waited months to hear.

“I love you.”

“Y/n! Hurry up!”

The whine of Jimin’s voice is louder than any car, highway, hell— aeroplane you’ve ever heard, you’re sure of it. The grip of his hand around your own is like iron, tugging you along the worn trail path, trying to urge you faster than your feet will allow.

“I’m going! I’m goin!” You chide with him, giggle leaving your lips at his hurried nature. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the spider more excited. Maybe even more so than when he strokes the bite mark scarred into your shoulder– your permanent reminder that you are his and he is yours.

“Not fast enough!” He groans, head rolling back in annoyance, “The best spot is going to get taken!”

He’s told you about this spot time and time again– excitement palpable with every mention. A beautiful clearing back at the reserve, one that the trees shine perfectly through. The best spot for basking in the whole park, as well as for begging humans for snacks.

You smile at the thought. Following as close behind him as your feet will manage. Blanket and bags of food tight in your grip. After months of paperwork, he can finally return to this place without fear they’ll take you away from him. The mate licence in your wallet proof enough of it.

He finally gets to take you to the reserve– the place he called home for so long before he met you. The place where he first learned how to be a proper spider. The first place he learned to make friends. He’s most excited about the latter part, getting to show off his shiny new mate to all of his friends. The one he caught the human way.

He’s been talking about it for days, since you first brought up the idea of visiting. Of wanting to see where he lived before he met you. Prattling on and on about everything he’s going to show you, how he’s going to introduce you to Jungkook if he can. About the waterfall over the cove that you two can swim in without anyone finding out.

All of it is a dream come true for your little spider. Your mate.

You smile at the thought– how excited he is as he helps you set up the blanket on the ground. As he helps spread food all around you. Body jittery, head twitching at every little sound.

It’s clear he’s going a little crazy with joy. Entirely ecstatic to have you here with him. Sitting across from him on the ground in a way that almost mocks the picnic you had in his basement that night months ago.

Ah, sorry. Nuptial gift ceremony. He liked it a lot better when you called it that.

“Oh! And then, after we eat, I can introduce you to the head of the park! She’s Namjoon’s mate, but she doesn’t know it yet.” He talks to himself, chatting idly about nothing as he presses another strawberry to your lips. You eagerly take it, biting down on the fruit without a second thought.

You cover your mouth with your hand as you speak, “Really? It must be difficult to confess to her, then.”

He nods his head, overexcited as he looks past you into the trees. Nose twitching as he tries to pick up a scent. Yellow tinted sunglasses high on his nose to block any light from hurting his delicate pupils.

You can’t help but think about how beautiful he is. How lucky you are to have him.

His hair has grown out since that fateful day months ago, blonde replaced by a deep blue that puts the night sky to shame. How his frame has bulked out ever so slightly. Pretty tan skin looking more healthy than ever. His head off in the clouds, trying to ground himself so he doesn’t pick you up and drag you off into the woods.

The human way is never easy for him.

“Mhmm… he’s trying but he isn’t very good at it. Doesn’t understand how humans like it to be done…” He mumbles.

“Hybrid’s do it different?”

“Yeah,” He seems a little lost in space, nose twitching harsher as he tries to recognise the exact scent he knows will be coming soon. Jungkook can never hold himself back from a picnic, no matter how far. He just wishes his nose was stronger.

“Hybrids just take their mate right away. Prove they’re a good mate and then it’s done. But human’s you have to teach.” Your shoulders drop slightly, and maybe if it wasn’t for the love you felt for him or the mate mark pressing against your neck, you would have understood the severity of his words. Of teaching a human, tricking them into making them fall.

“Oh…” You pout, head coming down to rest against his shoulder. None the wiser to the meaning behind his words, “I’m sorry… it must’ve been hard for you.”

He only shakes his head, “It’s okay. I just didn’t want you to ever be scared.”

Suddenly, Jimin is standing. Eyes darting across the underbrush that surrounds the treeline. You follow his vision, squinting slightly to try and make out exactly what he is looking at when two antennae pop over the other side of a bush. Twitching, pointing in your direction. Hunting down food as they move closer.

The insect moves close, tilting his head as he finally moves within your line of vision. Mop of brown floppy hair on his head, wide bunny eyes. Twitching nose all the same. If it wasn’t for the lack of ears and black antennae jolting from his head, you would’ve thought he was a rodent.

“Kook!” Jimin’s voice is loud as he quickly run’s to meet the boy. The other looks just as excited, eyes lighting up with stars as his legs take off in the same direction. The two fall into a puddle of laughter and play fighting as they fall to the ground in greeting.

The infamous Jungkook, an ant hybrid– the biggest ant hybrid you’ve seen, mind you. Jimin’s best friend is finally revealed. And you have to say, seeing them together. Watching as your mate attempts to playfully tie him up silks has to be the prettiest sight you’ve ever laid eyes on.

“Oh my god, Min!” You laugh as Jimin struggles, the giant ant hybrid easily breaking free from the others strings. Instantly the attention is on you. Jimin leaning back to his heels, head thrown back as he whines.

“Shut up! He’s gotten stronger! My webs hold you good enough!” You continue to laugh, unaware of the ant sneaking closer. His antenna tickling your shoulder as he stares at the food in front of you. Begging for just a little taste to bring home to his colony, a little bit to make the queen happy.

You happily oblige, making room for the two of them to join you once again after their little scuffle. A reunion too cute to not try and remember forever. And just like that, conversation begins to flow easily between the three of you. Almost as if Jimin never left in the first place.

The two of them spend all afternoon catching up– Jimin reciting the story of how you two met, Jungkook opening up about the cute human that’s started to come by the park every saturday. Pulling his antennae down as he speaks, clearly embarrassed. Telling you all about how they met, about the reserve.

“Ah~ don’t mind him. Kookie’s just embarrassed cause he doesn’t know how to talk to girls.” Jimin teases, leaning over to ruffle Jungkook’s hair. His arm tightly wrapped around your frame, holding you close. “Not every day that an ant hybrid has a mate outside of their colony, you know?”

“Hyung! Shut up!” He quickly whines, eyes shooting a subtle glare towards the other. Legs kicking slightly underneath his frame. “You… know what it means… especially cause she’s human…”

“I know.” His fangs shimmer as his hand reaches out to ruffle his hair, “Don’t worry. She’ll wanna be your queen in no time.”

You nod your head in agreement, picking up another piece of fruit and popping it into your mouth. Nothing much to add to the conversation– you’ll never really understand the intricacy of hybrids and how they work. Especially those like Jungkook and Jimin.

Yet, you can’t help but feel at peace with that. At peace with them and this moment. Content with your life, content with your mate and the life you’ve built together. You hope that Jungkook can do the same with his own someday. Build a nice little colony or whatever it is that ants do.

“Mhmm, anyone would want someone as cute as you.” You smile, watching as the ant’s eyes go wide. Blush covering his cheek as he tries to pull his antenna down to cover them. Jimin instantly pounces on the other, starting a new round of play fighting. Laughing about having to defend his mates honour. That she isn’t allowed to look at any other hybrid. No one but him.

You giggle along with them, leaning back from your spot. Taking a mental picture of the scene in front of you. Jimin happy, playing. The sunset over the horizon as the three of you laugh in the woods. As Jimin no longer looks anything like that spider all those months ago.

And maybe he’s right. Maybe you did fall into his trap lined with silk. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Even when you wake up in the middle of the woods. When you wake up in a cabin decorated in pretty webbing. When you come to find society is far behind you. When you discover no one else other than Jimin telling you that this is exactly what you asked for.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

⋆𐙚 if you enjoyed this fic, please consider buying me a kofi!

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mitsuyeaah · 11 months

Text

STRAWBERRIES & CREAM

SANZU HARUCHIYO x f! reader

“if i’m dreaming don’t wake, don’t wake me up from you in that sundress, here in that sunset.”

cw: modern au, sundress season with sanzu, fluff, nsfw (mdni), smut, pwp, oral (f receiving), food play, unprotected sex, creampie, clit slapping (brief), multiple orgasms (f), pet names (baby), swearing, sanzu being down bad for reader for wearing a sundress.

word count: 5.9k

a/n: my entry for The #SummertimeMadnessCollab event by @saccharine-darlin !! thank you for this awesome event! happy happy birthday to my one and only, haru <3

The hot summer wind danced around your figure, the smooth fabric of your pink sundress flowing with the breeze. You were surrounded with hues of green and red, the blazing sun in all its glory amongst the vast azure sky—not a single spec of cloud in sight; the buzzing of insects and trees waving at one another filled your ears as you wandered down the never-ending strawberry fields. Rows and rows of green and red stretched across acres of land which brought joy to your heart, like a child discovering a sweet treat for the first time.

“Maybe I should’ve stayed at home.” Your boyfriend hissed, swiping a slender hand across his neck, attempting to wipe away the thin layer of sweat that has formed there. Rosy strands of his shoulder-length mullet uncomfortably stuck to the sides of his neck, his fringe slightly sticking together just above his aquamarine eyes and thick lashes, a slight scowl forming upon his pretty face. You whipped your head over to where he stood, turning your torso as you looked over your shoulder, “Oh, lighten up, would you?” You chuckled from underneath the brim of your straw hat.

Before Haruchiyo could say anything, another tropical breeze danced around the two of you, this time, lifting the hem of your dress a little too high for his liking. He leaned over and jutted an arm out, catching the fabric in his hand and smoothed it down your legs before any prying eyes could wander above your knees— parts of you that only he could see and touch.

You gave him a sheepish smile as you held the fabric against your thighs, he could only shake his head and give a small chuckle, turquoise eyes becoming a shade lighter underneath the sun as he looked up at you. His cheeks were almost the same colour as his hair, a droplet sweat rolling down the side of his face. Feeling sorry for your boyfriend, you grabbed the white strawberry-filled bucket that hung from his forearm and placed your straw hat on the crown of his head.

“We’ll fill this up a little more, then we can go.” You wiped the sweat that rolled down the side of his face with your thumb and ventured further down the field, following the narrow path underneath your shoes.

His heart skipped a beat at your little gesture, the familiar warmth spreading across his sweaty chest as he surveyed the back of your figure. God, you always managed to make him fluster at the smallest things, the two of you have been in a relationship for quite a while now and not once did you not make his heart flutter with something as innocent as that, not that he was complaining though.

You were cute.

He looked at the way your pink sundress swayed around your knees, the fabric peppered with little red strawberries to match today’s activity—strawberry picking. How did you manage to look so heavenly under this scorching heat? Meanwhile, Haruchiyo looked like he just ran a marathon from the way his white polo shirt clung to every part of his torso, pants becoming uncomfortably tight around his legs the more time he spent under the sun.

Haruchiyo hated sweating but for you, he’d endure it.

He knew how fond of strawberries you were and so was he but he’d rather be in the comfort of his own home, eating them without having to break a sweat and practically bathing under the tropical weather. Plus, he loved your strawberries and cream cheesecake—luckily enough, his birthday was tomorrow and you had suggested to bake his favourite cheesecake flavour. Although, he didn’t expect the part where the two of you had to pick fresh strawberries for his cake.

You opted for strawberry picking instead of store-bought ones since it brought joy to you; the feeling of wandering around the endless fields of green and the faint scent of strawberries filling your nose. Even though Haruchiyo urged you to just buy from the store, the experience was still different and plus, it was time to get some much needed vitamin D, per your words—to which he responded by saying you could get vitamin D from another source, earning a slight smack from you.

Nonetheless, it was perfect. The cold dessert was just what he needed after being out in this scorching heat. He couldn’t wait to dig into the sweet treat and feel the coolness of the cake against his tongue, the bursting flavours and strawberries and cream melting in his mouth.

Feeling much better, the two of you sat on a wooden bench under a parasol with the strawberry-filled bucket resting on the table. After picking strawberries, Haruchiyo suggested grabbing strawberry ice cream that the farm had; he’s a sucker for these since they used fresh strawberries from their farm.

You softly chuckled at the man sitting across you eagerly licking at the sweet treat, the slight scowl that he held underneath the blazing sun no longer evident on his face, instead it showed pure content. The breeze was also cooler under the shade, rosy strands no longer uncomfortably sticking to his neck and his shirt didn’t cling to every part of his torso anymore. You met his aquamarine gaze as he looked up at you from under the thick layers of lashes, “Why are you laughing?” Genuine confusion was now plastered on his face, brows knitting together underneath his blush-coloured bangs.

“You’re cute.” Embarrassment filled his whole body, hands ever so slightly tightening around the waffle cone. Haruchiyo was never the one to know how to act when receiving compliments. Yes, he complimented you a lot, endless praises spilled from his lips very easily but when he’s on the receiving end, he doesn't know what to do. In your opinion, that’s what made you fall for him harder—the way his cheeks turn crimson red and his shy turquoise eyes avoid your gaze.

Before he could even process your compliment, you made a small noise out of surprise as you felt the melted pink liquid make contact with your index finger. Haruchiyo watched as you placed the ice cream on your other hand, lips encasing around the digit that was stained with the melted substance. His keen eyes followed the way your tongue darted out to lick a long stripe from the cone and up to the ice cream itself, following the trail of the melted ice cream.

He sucked in a sharp breath, his cerulean eyes following your tongue’s every movement. An action so innocent yet it flipped a switch inside him, rather quickly, even. Hell, who was he even lying to, he has been on edge ever since he saw you in that goddamned dress. The way the thin fabric effortlessly cascaded down to your knees, and the low neckline of it, deliciously exposing your collarbones. Haruchiyo wasn’t worried about other people looking at you because he knew you were his and he was yours. Goddamnit he was the only one hitting that, and no one else.

God, the way the dress hugged your body in all the right ways made him lose his mind. He has never wanted to rip the clothing off of you as quickly as you put it on but alas, you guys had plans for the day. In all honesty, he was ready to go home and take you right then and there, maybe even keep the dress on while he pounds into you; the neckline yanked down to expose your breasts. But, his deepest desire can wait. He’ll have to behave, for now.

“What’s on your mind, Haru?” His heart skipped a beat at the nickname; you always called him ‘Haru’ but his mind suddenly went elsewhere. How cute would you look as you call him by his nickname while his cock is sheathed inside you, and to top it off, your strawberry dress hiked above your hips as he gives it all to you. It may be his birthday today but you deserve all the pleasure he’s about to give you once the two of you get home.

Haruchiyo shook his head and mumbled a ‘nothing’; before he knew it, the two of you were back home, a bag of strawberries in hand. He gently placed the bag atop the kitchen island before pulling you in for a deep kiss. His lips tasted like strawberries, just like you expected. A hand cupped your cheek which allowed him to deepen the kiss, his lips were full of want as it moved desperately against your own. Haruchiyo didn’t shy away from shoving his tongue past your lips as you parted them to let out a muffled whimper.

You stood there, trapped between his body and the kitchen island, and all you could do was grip the collar of his shirt. “Mhm.. Haru, I still have to make the cheesecake.” You let out a sigh of content as Haruchiyo moved from your lips, trailing open-mouthed kisses to your jaw, and down the side of your neck. A light sheen of sweat coated your skin but he didn’t care, he could handle a little sweat. He nipped at the sensitive skin there, earning a small moan from you. “Baby, you can do that later.. I want you all to myself.” Haruchiyo furrowed his brows as you breathlessly laughed at his reply.

“It’ll be quick. Plus, what’s a birthday without a cake?” “Hmm, the cake I need is right here, though.” He wrapped his arms around you to grope at your ass, causing you to yelp. Your eyes widened, meeting his aquamarine ones which were full of mischief. “Haruchiyo.” You lifted a brow at him, the smugness in his face slowly disappearing before defeatedly raising both arms in the air and walking towards the living room.

“I love you!” You called out to him from the kitchen. “Whatever.” Haruchiyo playfully grumbled from the living room. You shook your head and chuckled but before you could do anything else, he piped up again. “I love you.” A smile crept up to your lips, unable to bite it back. He was adorable to say the least, and you couldn’t have asked for more when he gave you his heart.

Throughout the entire time you prepared the cheesecake, Haruchiyo stood by the island counter. Pools of aquamarine never leaving your figure as you paced back and forth around the space. You’ve made this dessert countless times for him but he never fails to watch every single time, and despite watching it all, he has never jotted down a single process in mind. If he was being honest, he was running impatient. His cock grew harder with every passing minute, straining his pants; Haruchiyo couldn’t help his mind wandering to various things he’d do to you once you were done.

It also didn’t help how you decided to keep that goddamned sundress on while making the cheesecake. You were teasing him. He knew how much that dress drove him crazy, how it made him absolutely lose his mind. Haruchiyo watched the way you wiped your finger on the side of the bowl to gather the cream you’ve made and bring it up to your lips, sucking on your index finger. Fuck, the way your lips moulded around your digit, and the way you let go of it with a ‘pop’ pushed him to the edge.

Haruchiyo pushed himself off the kitchen island to make his way to you. You were finishing the last few touches for the dessert, decorating the top with freshly cut strawberries just like how you and Haru liked. Almost dropping a strawberry at the presence behind you, you let out a small yelp as he caged you in between the counter and his body. Haruchiyo placed his hands on your hips, pulling them back a bit just enough for you to feel his clothed hard on.

“‘M getting impatient, baby. Can’t let the birthday boy wait for too long, right?” He dipped his head to kiss the junction of your neck, earning a small sigh from you. Resting your head against his shoulder, his lips wandered further as you gave him more access—leaving trails of maroon and dark purple. “W-wait, Haru. Let me just put this in the fridge–ah!” A yelp slipped past your lips as he ground his clothed cock harder against your ass.

Everything became a blur after the dessert was stowed away in the fridge. Haruchiyo had you bent at the hips, your torso against the kitchen counter as he hiked your sundress up to reveal your ass. “Hmm.. so perfect for me.” He gave it a little slap before massaging the spot, earning a moan from you before nudging your legs wide open. As he kneeled, he yanked your soaked panties down so that your wet cunt was in perfect view right in front of his face.

A loud whine slipped past your lips as Haruchiyo sucked on your wet entrance—the sounds that came from him were rather lewd given as to how hard he was sucking. The loud erotic sounds bounced off the kitchen walls, and went straight to your ears; it wasn’t like it was your first time being eaten out by Haru, it was just that the sounds never failed to make you flustered, especially with the way he hummed against your cunt like it was the most satisfying meal he’d had all day.

“H-Haru! Aah, slow down!” Your fingers gripped the edge of the counter, legs threatening to give up as Haruchiyo pushed his face further between your legs. “How can I hold myself back when you taste this good, baby?” He mumbled into your bare skin before shoving his tongue past your folds, earning a loud whimper from you. Your cheeks warmed at the way Haruchiyo’s tongue felt inside you, and the way his lips sucked at your entrance—it hit all the right places within you, and you swore you could almost see stars. “Haru! Fuck..!” Your knees buckled at the never ending stimulation at the apex of your legs.

Despite being not much of a talker, Haruchiyo was definitely skilled with his tongue in other ways—ways that would bring tears of pleasure to your eyes without a doubt. Your forehead met the cool marble top of the counter as his fingers rubbed fast, tight circles at your clit; your mouth parted but no sound came out. You could feel your head spinning from the amount of bliss you felt at this very moment; oxytocin coursed throughout your body as Haruchiyo didn’t falter with his movements.

Knees buckling, he tightened his grip around your legs to keep your lower half from meeting the tiled floor. Your stomach tingled, all the way to the tips of your digits as your sweet release was right around the corner—soft pants turned into hard, high-pitched breathing mixed with attempts of crying out Haruchiyo’s name as you neared your orgasm. “Haruuuu~ F-fuck, I’m cumming–ngh! Aah!” Your nails painfully dug into the hard material of the countertop as your orgasm hit you hard; the intense pleasure shot up your spine as your whole body trembled, the blissful sensation engulfing you.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you finally let go, cumming around his tongue as the building knot in your stomach snapped. Haruchiyo hummed against your pussy, sending more vibrations up your spine. He rode out your orgasm with his fingers still mercilessly stimulating your clit, and his free hand snaking around your front to play with your hardened bud, pulling a loud yelp from you. He sloppily licked up all your cum, hums of satisfaction leaving his lips as he cleaned you up. Your back arched at the feeling of the heightened pleasure, whining as Haruchiyo pushed you to overstimulation. Reaching a shaky hand behind you, you tugged at his rosy strands, trying to push him off your cunt before cumming around his tongue again.

Haruchiyo laughed at your cute attempts to get him off but he obliged but not before placing a chaste kiss on your throbbing entrance and standing up. He pulled your trembling torso against his chest, rubbing his hands up and down your waist before whispering close to your ear, “Hmm.. you know what’s making me act this way, huh?” Shivering at the way his breath fanned at your skin, you shook your head no. You didn’t trust your words at the moment since your mind was long gone and fogged with thick clouds of lust. Nothing else.

Your boyfriend let out a saccharine laugh, his hands snaking around you to cup your breasts through the thin fabric of the sundress. “This. Fucking. Dress.” Haruchiyo harshly yanked down the top part of your dress with every word that came out of his mouth to expose your torso. He pressed his nose against the side of your neck, inhaling you intoxicating sent, “Fuck. I have been losing my mind since this morning. Ever since I saw you in this goddamned dress, I just wanted to bury myself in you right away.. You’re such a tease, huh..?” Haruchiyo skillfully removed your bra and tossed it somewhere in the kitchen, making a soft thud as it hit the tiled floor.

He wasn’t lying. As innocent as you looked in that sundress, he couldn’t help but think of every nasty thought that came into mind—it wasn’t his fault that you looked absolutely stunning with that dress on. You knew Haruchiyo had a thing for clothes that matched his rosy strands, especially if it accentuated your body in all the right ways, bringing out the most beautiful parts of you—though, he thinks that every single part of you is beautiful. He has been trying to keep his cool for the entire time in the strawberry fields. It also didn’t help how the flimsy material of your dress danced around the wind, hiking up your legs to reveal your delicious thighs.

Fuck, if Haruchiyo had the opportunity to take you right then and there back when the two of you were in the fields, he would have. He wouldn’t hesitate, not one bit. You were just so goddamned beautiful that he had to show you how much he loved every single bit of you. Breathtaking, to say the least. Sometimes he’d mentally curse himself for thinking of such lewd thoughts when you’re just standing there looking so innocent, so perfect but he knew you better than anyone. You loved to rile him up, and today was one of those days.

“Mhm—ah! R-really..? I knew you’d love it, Haru.” A smirk crept its way up to your lips, your voice shaky from your previous orgasm. Haruchiyo clicked his tongue, he wasn’t surprised that you specifically wore that dress to tease him. He absolutely loved it when you made efforts to rile him up, it was cute because he knew damn well it worked on him every single time. “Tsk. Wearing this just to tease me? How naughty, my baby.” You let out a moan as he massaged your breasts—Haruchiyo loved the way his large hands easily fit to cup at your mounds, like they were specifically made for your chest.

Arching your back, you replied to him with a whimper, “Ngh! Well, I have to treat the birthday boy somehow, right—ah!” The chuckle that slipped past your lips abruptly turned into a full-blown moan as he pinched at your nipples, gently rolling them in between his digits, causing goosebumps to form under his lewd touches. “Always so good f’me my baby, aren’t you?” Haruchiyo trailed a hand up to your chin to angle your head towards him to kiss you. You moaned against his lips as he bucked his groin against you, rubbing it hard enough to feel the entirety of his length between the valley of your ass.

He chuckled at your attempts to form coherent sentences after pulling away from his lips, something along the lines of wanting his cock inside you. He tugged at your bottom lip with his teeth before letting it go to place a chaste kiss at the corner of your mouth. Haruchiyo skilfully turned you around so that the two of you faced each other; his eyes wandered across your bare chest, mouth watering at the way your breasts spilled from the neckline of the dress that’s been messily pulled down.

Haruchiyo marvelled at the way they looked, so tender, and plump from how he had been massaging them earlier. Fuck, he’s always had a thing for your chest. You furrowed your brows as he reached for something behind you, the glass bowl loudly scraping against the marbled countertop as he brought it closer to the two of you. “Since you don’t need this anymore.. Let’s not have the leftovers go to waste, hm?”

You blinked up at his aquamarine gaze, so full of mischief and slyness as he held the large glass bowl in his hand and the silicone spatula on the other. You watched as he scraped the spatula around the bowl, getting every bit of the cream you made earlier for the cheesecake and dropping it directly on your bare chest. A gasp left your lips as you were met with the cold cream against your warm skin.

It was a new sensation indeed but not weird enough to have you recoil. As a matter of fact, you kind of liked it despite knowing how much of a sticky mess it’d leave you—not like you haven’t felt that before, though. You and Haruchiyo were new to this whole thing, bringing food into sex; you never really thought of it as food and intercourse doesn’t sound as pleasing as it seems but now that you were experiencing it first hand, you didn’t mind at all. As long as it stayed away from your cunt.

Haruchiyo’s eyes were practically gleaming as he finished layering your breasts with cream—he was like an artist admiring his greatest masterpiece. “You’re so beautiful..” He let out a dreamy sigh and gave your lips a small peck before eagerly dipping his head below your chin to lick the sweetness off your chest. Your palms dug into the edge of the countertop, gripping them for your dear life as Haruchiyo licked a long stripe between the valley of your breasts, the sweet substance gathering at the tip of his tongue, all while holding your gaze—aquamarine eyes fixated on yours, like it was made just to look into your eyes and nothing else.

You let out a shaky breath as he stood up right, immediately resting a hand on your nape to pull you into a slow, sensual kiss. You hummed in delight as Haruchiyo didn’t hesitate to shove his cream-coated tongue past your lips, the sweetness of it dancing on your tastebuds. The kiss was messy, the sweet substance coating his and your lips which left wet, sticky trails around your mouths. He groaned into your mouth before swiping his tongue at your bottom lip, and kissing the corner of your mouth to clean up the mess he has made.

At this point, your head was spinning. Fuck, you wanted him so bad. The way Haruchiyo took his time to appreciate every single part of you left you breathless—your chest heaved up and down as you stared into his eyes with desperation. He was always like this, worshipping your body to the point where it drove you absolutely crazy; it may seem filthy and lewd to others with how he worshipped you but you loved it. Oh, you loved it a lot. It made your heart sing for his name, and every cell in your body yearned for no one but your lover standing right in front of you.

He placed his hands on your waist—the sundress still clinging to the lower part of your torso as he dipped his head into your chest once again, this time going for a breast. Biting back a moan, you threw your head back at his wet tongue languidly circling your sensitive nipple, rounding your back at the overwhelming sensation of his mouth, torso ever so slightly jerking. You tugged at his rosy roots as Haruchiyo gently bit at the supple flesh of your breast, it didn’t hurt, it was just the right amount of pleasure to send your mind in a frenzy.

Haruchiyo eagerly lapped up every single cream-covered spot on your chest, earning him whines and whimpers from you as you tugged at the rosy tufts of hair. He had his gaze on you the entire time, admiring all your reactions under his tongue that your body had to offer him. You were cute—the way you let out short, shallow pants as he keenly sucked on your sensitive skin, the way you bit your lip as he swiped his tongue under your breast, and the way you looked at him with such adoration and lust; your brows knitted together in pleasure, lips slightly parted to whisper his name like a prayer.

Your front was left in a sticky, wet mess from Haruchiyo’s tongue; it was so naughty but you loved every bit of it. The way his tongue left messy, wet trails all over your body had shivers running down your spine, and the way his lips circled against the supple skin of your chest to suck it dark red, and purple left you breathless. He kissed every love bite that peppered your front, one so gentle and chaste that earned sighs of contentment from you, a contrast to what he was previously doing before, which pulled shameless moans past your swollen lips.

He turned you around once again, hips pressing against the edge of the marbled counter as he left open-mouthed kisses down your bare back, goosebumps forming under each wet kiss. “Haah~ Haru..” Haruchiyo hiked the dress up to your lower back, exposing your bare ass; he gave it a slap before grabbing the back of your right knee to prop it atop the cool surface of the counter. You braced yourself against the countertop, palms planted on the cool surface and back pressed against his chest. The sound of his belt unbuckling could be heard, the loud clang of the metal part startling you a bit as it met the tiled floor.

Haruchiyo didn’t bother stepping out of his pants as it pooled around his feet, and hastily pulled his underwear down, sighing as his cock was finally freed from its suffocating confines. He hissed as he circled his hand around his throbbing cock, languidly stroking it and using the bead of pre cum from his pink tip to lubricate his cock—it sat heavy in his hand, the way it pulsed like it had a heartbeat of its own, so eager and so ready to be buried inside you. He rested his chin on your shoulder, running the blunt tip of his cock along your wet entrance, pulling a desperate moan from you.

A small chuckle left his lips. Haruchiyo figured he’d been teasing you enough, plus, he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. The both of you let out a moan in unison as he pushed his cock past your wet folds, his length easily slid inside you due to your previous orgasm—the sound was wet and lewd, the way it squelched as he pushed his hard cock into you, your cum from earlier running down the inside of your legs as Haruchiyo filled you up with his dick. Your hands–which were previously flat against the countertop–balled into fists, nails uncomfortably scraping the cool surface. With your leg propped on top of the counter, it drove his cock deeper inside you.

A string of profanities eagerly left his lips. He let out hard pants like he’s just run a marathon—his face right beside yours as his chin rested on your shoulder. “Mhm..! So perfect f’me.. All mine.” He stilled his hips as the entirety of his length was sheathed in you, Haruchiyo knew you didn’t need time to adjust to him, no—you took him like a fucking champ every single time but he was the one who needed time to adjust. The way your walls hugged him tightly made his head spin, it also didn’t help how you had a habit of clenching around him once he was fully inside you.

He gritted his teeth as your walls clamped down on him for a few seconds, eyes glued shut in pleasure. “F-fuuuck..! Baby—haah! I might just cum if you keep doing that—ngh!” The grip he had on your leg tightened as he let out another moan; Haruchiyo let out a breath he’d been holding as he felt you relax around him, whispering sweet praises against the side of your neck before finally moving his hips. His free hand supported his weight by gripping the edge of the counter, effectively trapping you in between.

The pace he had set was relentless and merciless—just how you liked it. Short, high pitched moans left your parted lips as you closed your eyes shut, focusing on the way the tip of his cock deliciously kissed your cervix again and again. Haruchiyo knew your body like the back of his hand, he knew the certain angle that would absolutely drive you crazy, he knew which buttons to press to help you reach your orgasm quicker.

The sound of skin slapping and squelching bounced around the walls of the kitchen as Haruchiyo’s hips made constant contact with your ass—he watched the way your ass moved with every hard thrust he gave you, jolting your body forward and placing a dull pressure on your hips. He could feel your cum from the orgasm earlier drip down to his heavy balls, making a complete mess as his skin slapped against your own.

Your whole body shook from the way he pounded into you, moan after moan leaving your lips after trying to form at least one coherent sentence. “Shit.. Look at that..!” Haruchiyo let out an erotic gasp as a white ring formed at the base of his cock from how wet you were, this riled him up even more; the hand that gripped the counter made its way to your front, and down to your clit to draw figures of eight with his ring finger. You moaned at the heightened pleasure, arms giving up on you and before you knew it, your front was met with the cool surface of the countertop.

Haruchiyo used your bent figure as leverage to drive his cock deeper into you, standing at the ball of his feet and angling his hips higher. You could feel the back of your eyes heat up as tears threatened to spill, “Ah! Ah! Ngh—aah! Haru..!” Your back arched, deliciously pressing against the counter as he slapped your clit. This caused your knee to buckle, your lower half to almost meet the floor if it wasn’t for your other leg on top of the counter, and Haruchiyo’s arm snaked around you.

He grunted right by your ear with every thrust of his hips, his body molded against yours, his own hips bent as he pressed his chest to your clothed back; he knew how much the sounds he made turned you on—the way his erotic sounds flew right to your cunt to make you even wetter. “A-aah! Shit..! That’s it baby—ngh!” He groaned as he felt you squeeze around him.

It was truly a sight to see. The way your sundress barely covered you; the neckline yanked below your breasts and the skirt of it hiked up to your lower back as Haruchiyo mercilessly dicked you down. It didn’t even serve as an article of clothing anymore, no; now, it just looked like a reminder of what caused your boyfriend to be this crazy about you. It was like some kind of medal that you wore as he fucked you senseless, a piece of fabric covering your middle while the rest left you fully exposed.

The contrast between the pink blush of the sundress, and the strawberries that peppered the fabric and the way Haruchiyo was pounding into you was almost laughable. A piece of clothing, so simple, so innocent yet driving him insane like this—as the saying goes, less is more. Your leg that was atop the counter started to become numb, your foot tingling, and thighs burning as it kept that position but you didn’t care. Not when he was fucking you this good.

“M—aah! C-cumming, Haru..! S-shit!” You moaned, your fingers painfully digging into your palm from the immense pleasure that was starting to course throughout your body. Your boyfriend buried his face in your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo before letting out a heated gasp as you clenched around him. He gave your nape a few kisses here and there, whispering such dirty things against your sweaty skin to help you reach your orgasm. The way his balls messily slapped against your clit, and the way his cock bullied your insides was enough to get you over the edge.

Your lips formed an ‘o’ shape as you let out a shameless moan, face contorted in nothing but pure bliss. You trembled as your second orgasm rocked through your body; tears streaming down your heated cheeks, knuckles white from balling your fists, and back arched from the immense pleasure. Haruchiyo did his best to keep thrusting despite your walls tightening around him to the point where it was almost pushing him out. “Ngh—ah! T-that’s a good girl..!” He sucked at the skin on your upper back, helping you ride out your orgasm to the fullest.

High-pitched whimpers escaped you as he pounded away at your cunt, trying to chase his own sweet bliss. Haruchiyo let out one last grunt before stilling his hips and stuffing his cock deep inside you to blow his load. “Aaah~ Ye–eaah..! Fuckin’ take it all—haah!” You gasped as you felt his hot cum paint your insides white, stuffing you to the brim, some of it dripping out and down your left leg, as well as down his balls. Haruchiyo stayed like that for a while, trapping you between his body and the countertop as he came.

Before your body could relax against the marbled surface, your muscles tightened as your boyfriend started to fuck his cum deeper into you. Since the entirety of his length was already sheathed inside you, he gave you quick, shallow thrusts, allowing his cum to reach you deeper while some of it messily spilled out and dropped onto the tiled floor. “Aaah! Shit..” Your body jerked with oversensitivity as his hips didn’t once falter. “Mhm~ That’s r-right.. Take all of me and make sure it doesn’t spill out, huh?” He panted against your ear, kissing it before slowly pulling out of you, earning a whine from the both of you.

“Mmm. Maybe I should keep wearing sundresses like this..” You breathlessly chuckled, stumbling into his chest as you took your leg off the counter to face him. Haruchiyo wrapped his arms around you—his cheeks were tinted pink, hair stuck to his forehead and neck, and eyes blown with lust, god, he looked handsome while fucked out. “‘M not complaining, baby. It is my birthday after all.. Maybe another one tomorrow. I’ll have my dessert then we’ll eat the cheesecake that you made.” He rested his chin on the crown of your head, squeezing you in a tight hug.

It took you a while to process his sentence. His dessert, meaning you.

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lazyjellyfish300 · 2 months

Text

The Woman He Didn't Choose Part 5 🥀

AU Bachelor!Miguel O'Hara x Fem Contestant!Reader

Synopsis: You're on the show: Singles in Paradise. Former Bachelor!Miguel has some heavy news to break to you about your new relationship with Peter B., along with contending with his lingering feelings for you. He's racing against the clock as the rose ceremony is about to commence that night, and all of the drama is approaching a boiling point. Word count 6.4k

A/N: If you're unfamiliar with the show Bachelor in Paradise, here's a clip to give you an idea. Basically, it's another dating show usually in a tropical location where single people couple up, and new arrivals come in every so often and ask people on dates to shake things up, leading to drama and chaos, and couples can choose to stay together or break up in the end and there's typically an engagement. DISCLAIMER: I HAVE NO RIGHTS TO THE SHOWS THE BACHELOR OR BACHELOR IN PARADISE, ALL RIGHTS TO THE OWNERS. I CHANGED THE NAME OF THE SHOW IN THE STORY.

Part 1(contains links to previous parts)

TW: MINORS DNI, ANGST, DRAMA, DRUNKENNESS ,MISCOMMUNICATION, JEALOUSY, INSECURITY, CHEATING, BULLYING(NAME CALLING, TRASH TALKING BEHIND BACKS), FIGHTING(PUNCHING, SPIT IN FACE, CAT FIGHT) MILD VIOLENCE, BLOOD, MENTION OF ORAL SEX BUT NO SMUT, MENTION OF DADDY ISSUES

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You and Felicia were at least 3 strawberry daiquiris deep, and they were working their tasty magic. You both were giggling loudly, slapping each other's thighs, trying to hold each other up on the couch you were lounging on in the common area when an unwelcome visitor made his way into the room.

"Well look who it is!" Felicia says in a goofy voice, making you nearly spit out your drink.

"PPPFFFFT", You let out a mixture of a guffaw and cough as she pounds your back with her palm in a drunken effort to help you regain composure.

Miguel's face softens a little bit at the sight of you two enjoying yourselves. Thank God for the cocktails otherwise you wouldn't have even let him be in the same room as you.

You look at Miguel with teary eyes. "Whaddup big guy? What, what can I do you for, on this....the night of the grand rose ceremony?" You channel your inner Godfather as you slur your words, which makes Felicia nearly choke on her drink this time.

Miguel shakes his head. "We need to talk."

"Ahhhh...." you say, shaking your head back at him, tutting your teeth. "Too late, Muscles. Can I call you Muscles?"

Miguel rubs the back of his neck and tries to stifle a sigh. "Sure, that's fine. Now can we go talk?"

"Whoa, whoa." You bring a finger to his lips, silencing him and he lets out a defeated sigh. "I won't leave here with just anyone. I'm in a relationship."

Miguel gently reaches down, removing your hand from his face in a delicate yet firm grip, "Yes, I'm aware..."

At that point you almost fall off the couch. Felicia's laughing too hard and trying not to pee in the fetal position to help. Miguel catches you, helping you up with both of his forearms underneath your armpits. You catch a whiff of his scent as you fall back against his chest, making you a little delirious.

"Be more careful..." Miguel murmurs to you. "Here." He plops you on an empty chair, his hands gentle as they run up your calves and remove your tall wedge sandals and takes them in his hand, offering you the other. Your heart skips a beat at his touch but you attempt to conceal it with an eyeroll as you let him help you stand up.

"Be right back girl!" You call to Felicia, who raises her cocktail glass to you.

"Mkayyyy!"

The beachy evening breeze of the nighttime hits your face a little bit, making you close your eyes and sigh. Despite all the drama that had been plaguing you as of late, it sure felt good to be in such a gorgeous place as this.

Miguel's walking silently next to you, his mind agonizing over the distressing news he needs to break to you but stops and stands next to you, his shoulders relaxing at little at your content disposition, how endearing it is to watch you wiggle your toes in the sand. A smile on your face for once instead of tears.

After several moments, your eyes flutter open and you go to take a step forward, however your abrupt movement doesn't mix well with the liquor still running in your veins and you trip a little, Miguel catching you once again.

"Alright, that's it..." Miguel sighs and sweeps you into a bridal style carry, effortlessly cradling you in those beefy arms of his as he walks you further down the beach.

You look at him with heavy eyelids, an expression of amusement and impression with his strength on your face. "Well damn, I knew you were strong, Muscles, but I wasn't expecting that," You say, leaning your head on his shoulder.

Just how many shots were in those daiquiris? Miguel wonders as he continues to saunter forwards with you in his arms, trying not to focus on the growing heat in his face as you nuzzle a little closer into his chest.

Once you come closer to an unoccupied daybed near the pool, you give him a little tap on his arm to signal you want to be put down. He sets you carefully on the cushions and plops down next to you in silence, pressing his fingertips together in concentration as he looks at his feet, trying to form his words.

You look lazily at the changing underwater lights in the pool, as it hypnotically changes the water from green, to blue, purple, pink, and red, tropical winds gently brushing the palm trees and the distant sound of rushing waves coming from the beach down below.

Miguel finally speaks, his tone serious. "I don't want to do this, but there's something important you should know before the rose ceremony."

You blow air out of your cheeks, the liquor still had a hold on you but you were starting to get annoyed by this unwelcome interruption by this...guy. Whoever he was, he was majorly cramping your style and killing the good mood you were in.

"Look mister, if you're trying to get a rose and not go home, you're a little late for that," you say with a yawn, standing up.

Miguel stands up too, saying your name in a stern voice then cursing and turning around with his hands on his head muttering to himself. "She's way too drunk for this...okay."

He turns back around facing you, starting over from scratch again. "I'm not trying to get a rose from you." He says, looking into your eyes. "I'm not expecting anything from you tonight. You made it very clear earlier that you were upset with me, which I don't blame you for... even though someone completely got it wrong and told you before I could explain myself..."

You let out a loud groan, clasping your temples with your fingertips. "Give me the condensed version, Muscles, please. You're giving me a migraine."

Miguel exhales quickly with a small scoff then shakes his head. "Okay, okay..." He makes a small sigh of displeasure and continues, slowly as if he were approaching a sea of eggshells.

"I...just need to get this off my chest and tell you the truth so you don't make the wrong choice tonight, that's all." His hands move to the surrender position and you tilt your head.

"What do you mean?"

Miguel exhales slowly as the camera zooms in on his face, his heart pounding so tremendously against his ribs it was a wonder how the sound didn't leak through the microphone he was wearing.

"After you and Felicia left, Peter B., Dana, Ben, and I were at the bonfire. They were all drinking. I got up, and went to the bathroom and was walking down the main path back to the fire pit. You know where I'm talking about right?"

You nod, going to fiddle with a loose thread on your dress, a slight anxious twinge in your belly that sets your heartbeat on a gradual acceleration. Where is this going?

"Anyway, I saw Peter B. and Dana in the bushes tonight...they were together."

You blink.

Miguel looks at you with the same blank expression, but he's in disbelief at your lack of reaction.

"He was going down on her... he's playing you behind your back." He waits, his eyes searching yours, hoping you got the message, on the edge of his seat.

Your eyes flicker up and look back into his. "And I should believe you...why?"

Miguel's face turns red with emotion, taking a step closer to you. "Why would I lie about something like this?"

His tone is quiet, but it's laced with frustration. "Look, you have to make this call on your own but I'm telling you right now. I saw him with her, he's cheating on you. He's not the guy you think he is and frankly, giving him a rose tonight would be the biggest mistake of your life."

"Miguel..." you whisper closing your eyes.

Miguel exhales, the alcohol released its hold on you a little. "There, see...you do understand me." He gets a little closer. "I'm just trying to look out for you."

"Yeah, and you also told me you didn't like Dana yet somehow she ended up all over you in the pool right after I told you I'm going to stay with Peter."

"Oh my God..." Miguel shuts his eyes, running a hand through his hair. "For the last time, I'm not interested in her. She threw herself at me...I don't know who told you otherwise but whoever did got it completely wrong. I swear to you."

"You're saying Ben's a liar?"

"Ben?!" Miguel goes silent as he tries to do calculations in his head, but you already start walking away.

"Okay, I don't know why Ben of all people is telling you that, but he's wrong." Miguel speeds up, walking backwards quickly next to you, still facing you. The camera man once again struggling to keep up with you two.

"I don't like Dana and I've been trying to tell you that. And I'm trying to tell you right now, Peter's not right for you."

"Uh huh, and you also told me that I'm the one in Thailand and proceeded to run over my heart the next day."

"Wait! Ugh....please!"

You stand at the tiki bar on the beach, grabbing the bartender, James' attention. "Strawberry daiquiri please..."

James nods and lowers his head, trying to mix you a drink but can't help but remained tuned in as he works.

Miguel sighs and sits on one of the bar stools. He addresses James. "A beer when you get a chance please? Thank you..."

You two sit in silence for a moment. He speaks again, his voice more quiet. "I needed to tell you because I'm going home tonight."

You look at him, confused. "Why do you say that?"

He sighs. "Nobody here to give me a rose. And it's ladies choice."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm serious."

"What about Dana?"

"If Dana gives me a rose I'm only accepting it so I can stay here and keep an eye on you."

"Miguel, I can handle myself just fine."

"No, you can't. You keep falling for the wrong guys and you're about to make a mistake."

"You were one of them."

Miguel blinks a little rapidly and looks off, trying to act like that didn't sting. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm the upset rising in his body, blaming the alcohol in your system and your stress for your scathing remarks.

"I don't know if this is a weird jealousy thing, or you're trying to get back at me, or..." You continue, counting off your fingers as you speak, making some sort of drunken list.

"I'm not jealous." Miguel mumbles, picking at a random notch in the wooden bar.

"I'm gonna just pretend like you literally didn't just lie to me again," you say, also turning away.

"What? Ohhh my God." Miguel takes a deep breath. "Okay, yes, of course I'm jealous of you and Peter. Watching you guys kiss and go on dates. How seemingly happy he makes you when I know I couldn't make you feel like that? Yeah, of fucking course I'm jealous. It hurts."

The corner of your eyes soften a little bit. "Why now though, Miggy? Why do you only chase me after you've hurt me and after I'm trying to move on?"

"I don't know..." Miguel says quietly, rubbing his face. "Because I'm a dumbass? Because I had shitty judgement and I took you for granted. Because I didn't realize how much it would actually hurt to go through everything I put you through this last year?"

You look down, trying to hold in your tears.

Miguel gives you a sorrowful look, "Look... I'm only being stubborn right now because I see myself in you. You're about to make the same mistake I did and choose the wrong person like I did. I don't want you to walk away from this with any regret that'll come back to haunt you later..."

He pauses, running a hand through his hair and looking into your eyes. "And no, I don't expect you to come running back to me after this. No matter how badly I want you to..."

After letting one tear escape, you blink furiously, wiping your eyes, taking care not to ruin your eye makeup any more than it already is. You sit with his words for a while, letting them sink in.

Part of you doesn't feel great hearing that, but a larger part doesn't believe him. No, Peter wouldn't do something like that? Sweet Peter? And with Dana of all people? He clearly dodged her when everyone was in the pool together. There's no way...

Somehow you know you're being overly optimistic, but you decide to tuck it away for now, since there were more pressing matters like the impending rose ceremony which was due to commence at any moment at this late hour.

"Thank you for telling me. But let me handle it on my own. I made tons of allowances for you, Miguel. And I'm going to do the same for him. But if it turns out to be true? I'll deal with it when I deal with it. Have a safe trip home, Miguel."

At that moment, Jason Donner comes around the corner. "There you two are... we're all waiting on you. Cocktail hour's been over for 20 minutes. It's time to head on up to the rose ceremony. You okay?"

Jason tilts his head when he sees your obvious upset on your face.

"Yeah, I'm good." You mumble, quickly shifting past Jason's curious expression, forgetting the daiquiri you were waiting on, Miguel watching you walk away yet again with a solemn face and his heart split in two.

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

The group is hanging out outside of the rose ceremony room. Ben and Felicia are talking in hushed voices with Felicia every so often leaning her head towards Dana and Peter B., attempting to eavesdrop their conversation as Dana talks his ear off.

Peter is hardly reacting to her and looks rather nauseous, looking around with glazed, sullen eyes avoiding Felicia's suspicious, piercing gaze, his quickly-sobering thoughts making him slowly realize the gravity of the sin he just committed earlier.

You walk up to Peter, your eyes narrowing and your stomach dropping a tiny bit when you see Dana is standing next to him.

"Oh hey!" Dana says with phony niceness. "Peter and I were just talking about you. Have you been drinking? I can tell. God, that's embarrassing."

"Um, what?" You say, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh my God, I'm just kidding! I didn't mean it in a bad way. Peter was telling me how cute you look when you get all tipsy. Doesn't she look cute right now Peter? Oh my God, now she's getting embarrassed, awhhh that's adorable!"

You roll your eyes and put yourself physically in between him and Dana. Peter's eyes light up a little bit when he sees you, his hand reaching out to take yours and pull you closer, however his expression fades to slight worry when you whisper to him.

"I need to talk to you..."

Unfortunately, your words are cut off when one of the producers takes you by the shoulders. "Sorry, Pete, I'm gonna need to steal her. Hey, we need you to get lined up with the other women now."

You huff out a breath of frustration.

"Everything okay?" Peter asks quietly. You just nod curtly and give his hand a squeeze then allow the producer to usher you away.

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The five men are standing in the middle of the common room, the dim lights cast an aura of seriousness. All the men are cleaned up wearing mostly nicer button down shirts, pants, and shorts. Sunkissed faces painted in a stoic expression with quiet nervousness rippling underneath.

All of their faces light up when the four women walk in: You, Felicia, Dana, and MJ, all dressed in different flowy dresses that make you all look like beachy queens of the night. You exhale and look at Peter B., who gives you a small smile, his hands balled into nervous fists in his pockets. Miguel is looking at you too with a neutral expression on his face, his jaw tensing as he looks down.

Dana smiles at Peter B., who quickly moves his eyes away from her back onto you, trying not to be obvious. Immediate guilt and regret eating him from the inside out. George and Patrick, aka Web-Slinger, stand there with relaxed looks on their faces, seemingly unphased by the tension hanging in the air. Ben gives a small wink to Felicia who beams in return.

Jason Donner enters the room. "Welcome, everyone to another rose ceremony. Now, as you all now, it's ladies choice this week. There are five men remaining, but with only four roses to be handed out, so, gentlemen, one of you will leaving paradise tonight."

The five men quietly nod their heads in acknowledgement and Jason turns to MJ. "MJ, whenever you're ready, you'll start."

MJ nods and steps forward, clad in a tight red dress with a curly ponytail. She picks up the first rose boutonniere laying in the tiny pile on top of a small wooden stand. A somber tune begins to play as she takes the rose in her hands. Her eyes land on Peter B. for a brief moment, her face still deadpan, but then she looks at George with a smile.

"George?"

George breaks out into a cocky grin and he steps forward, standing in front of her.

"George, will you accept this rose?"

"Course..." He grins as she pins it to his breast pocket of his blue button down shirt. Peter B. exhales and looks away as this happens. You notice and your lips part a little bit, a slightly odd feeling announcing itself in your gut that you try to press down.

Felicia goes next, taking the rose in her hands, wearing a black halter top dress tonight and she doesn't hesitate for one moment. "Ben?"

Ben walks forward, a shy grin on his face.

"Ben, will you accept my rose?"

"Always." He whispers, as she pins the rose to his Hawaiian shirt with a giddy smile.

Your turn next. You step forward, still wearing the light blue kimono style dress from your date with Peter B. earlier. One of your shaky hands takes the second to last rose and you look up, your eyes finding Peter B. first. He flashes you a smile in return, giving you a hopeful look.

Miguel is looking at you too, he takes a deep breath in and closes his eyes, his head leaning back towards the ceiling. He knows he's not getting your rose tonight, he's just preparing himself for the gut punch of hearing you choose someone else, and falling for Peter B.'s false act.

Somehow, saying his name doesn't feel as right as you thought it would.

"Peter..."

Peter nods and walks forward with a smile, pulling the breast pocket of his white button down shirt forward for you to pin the rose.

"I just want you to know, this isn't just a rose to me. I take it really seriously..." You whisper to him. Dana rolls her eyes and lets out a scoff. Your eyes shoot her a slightly peeved look. The others look around somewhat nervously. Miguel tries to crane his neck a little to try and make out your soft words.

Peter's smile falters and his eyes dart to the rest of the group for a moment before he looks down at you. He wipes a little bead of sweat that began to form on his forehead.

"Peter, is there anything going on that would make you feel like you cannot accept my rose?"

The silence lasts a little longer than you'd like it to but he finally answers,

"N-No...I'm here for you. I have genuine feelings for you and I want to see where this goes. I mean that wholeheartedly, baby..." He says in a soft voice.

You nod slowly, then pin the rose to his shirt and he steps back into his position among the rest of the men. Miguel closes his eyes. Felicia mouths to you,"What's going on?"

"I'll tell you later." You mouth back to her.

Jason Donner re-enters the room. "Gentlemen, it's the final rose tonight. Dana, whenever you're ready."

Dana steps forward, wearing an orange two piece dress. She looks between Web-Slinger who's relaxed and Miguel who still has his eyes closed. She pauses then finally calls out a name.

"Miguel."

Miguel opens his eyes a little puzzled but steps forward, straightening his black polo.

"Will you accept..." Dana starts but is cut off by Miguel waving one of his hands.

"I'm sorry, but if I accept your rose I'd only be staying here for someone I'm still in love with." He looks over at you who's just as shocked and confused as the rest of the group.

Dana huffs quietly and looks down at the floor for a moment, placing the rose back on the stand. Jason Donner enters, "Dana? What's the hold up?"

Dana shakes her head. "He can't accept it. He's still here for..." Dana clears her throat as though your name was physically revolting to say.

Jason looks at Miguel. "Miguel, are you sure about this?"

He nods solemnly in response, not tearing his gaze from you.

Jason nods and says, "Well, Patrick, Miguel, since there isn't any more roses being handed out tonight, I'm so sorry, but you both are going home. Take a moment, say your goodbyes."

Web-Slinger aka Patrick, pulls George into a bro hug. He was kind of there to just party anyway, no sweat off his back.

Miguel gives a goodbye to George and Ben, but when it came to Peter B. he gave him the cold shoulder, pointing an accusatory finger,

"Don't fucking pull any shit like that again. If I find out you hurt her again, I'll deal with you personally."

"Wha-?" the others react to the abrupt switch up, the mood turning into hostile energy. Peter's face turns bright red.

"What's he talking about?" Felicia asks out loud as Miguel starts to make his way to the exit.

"Miguel, what do you mean by that?" Felicia asks again louder this time, concern in her voice.

You look down at the floor. Miguel says in a sarcastic tone, "Ask Peter, he can tell you."

"Miguel, I have no clue what you're talking about." Peter speaks up, standing up a little straighter in false confidence, deciding to play it cool.

Miguel hisses in annoyance and points at Dana. "Ask your new little friend, you two seemed to be getting close enough."

Dana points at herself, seemingly gobsmacked, "Me?!"

"Yes, you." Miguel says crossly. "Tell the truth, Dana. Tell the truth that you and Peter were hooking up in the bushes tonight, and that you threw yourself on me in the pool, completely unprovoked, and I didn't come onto you like everyone here believes."

Dana turns red with anger, and everyone else's mouths fall open. She tries to speak but just babbles incoherently. Your eyes narrow, a sick feeling pooling in your stomach.

"Now hold on..." Ben steps forward. "I was the one who saw Miguel and Dana in the pool earlier. I clearly saw both of you all over each other. Dana was holding him around the waist like this-" Ben awkwardly lifts his leg in some kind of demonstration, straddling an invisible man. "...and Miguel, you had your hands on her waist. I saw it when I went back for my towel."

"Well, check your facts again." Miguel says in an annoyed tone. "She jumped on me. I was minding my own business tanning on the inflatable."

"But why was it only after all of us left?" Ben asks, his eyebrows raising. "Same thing with Peter and Dana. Somehow all of these things are happening with nobody around and it's your word against everyone else's."

"Well why should we believe you about Dana and I?" Miguel shoots back at Ben.

Ben's eyes widen as he gestures to himself. "I have absolutely no reason to lie. But you do." He points to Miguel. "You're not over her and you know it." He nods in your direction. "You're trying to sabotage Peter's relationship, but yet you're trying to have it both ways with Dana too."

Miguel scoffs and laughs, but there's zero humor to be found in it. "Are you serious, Ben?"

"Miguel, I think you need to just worry about your own relationships right now." Peter B. says, taking a step towards Miguel. "You didn't get a rose tonight. Just take back what you said and exit peacefully and we can all forget this ever happened."

Miguel's eyes flash with anger, "I'm not going anywhere yet because I refuse to be made out to be some liar when I'm not!"

George steps in this time, "Hold on, let the man speak." He gestures in Miguel's direction.

Miguel takes a huge breath of relief. Even though George could be a douche, at least someone here was willing to hear him out, although it may have been mostly motivated by the fact that George didn't care much for Peter B. anyway.

"How about you stay out of this one, George?" Peter snarls, turning on him.

George smirks, the tension between them had been built up for weeks due to the jealousy over MJ.

"Oh yeah, and just what are you gonna do about it?"

"Guys!" Ben gets in between George and Peter, nearly tripping over backwards into George when Peter keeps surging forward, knocking Ben off his balance.

Miguel tries to insert himself between the two men as well and remove Ben, however Peter gives him a sharp shove, knocking him backwards, "Get back!"

Miguel's face flushes red with fury, taking a step towards Peter, however George beat him to it, shoving Peter, then causing Peter to lunge forward , only to be abruptly stopped by several security guards rushing the scene to restrain the heated men from ripping each other apart. Everyone is panicking now with several people from both on and off set running around, all this pent up drama and frustration nearly coming to a boiling point. The women scurry out of the fray.

"Hold on!" You yell at the top of your lungs, turning to Dana this time. "There's two sides to every story. So, is it true?" You ask, your voice slightly shaky. "Did you and Peter hook up?"

Dana's eyes narrow at you, "I don't see why it's any of your business?"

"Umm, considering the fact I'm dating him, I would say it is. It's a simple question, yes or no, Dana." You say, crossing your arms.

Dana scoffs. "I don't answer to people who don't know how to address me in the right tone, first of all. And I don't need to apologize or admit to anything when I haven't even done anything wrong."

You and Felicia look at each other with bizarre looks.

"Besides, if I wanted your man, I could have him." Dana taunts.

You throw your head back with an unamused cackle. "Puuuhlease! If you can take my man, then he's not my man. You can take my problems, not my man let's get that straightened out right now."

Dana throws her head back with an over exaggerated mocking laugh. You look at her with disgust.

"What is your fucking problem? I have seriously tried to be nice to you SO many times, Dana. You never apologized or owned up to your behavior."

"Oh like what, what did I do that was so bad, honey, tell me?" Dana bats her eyes sarcastically.

"Brag about wanting to fuck Gabriel, bullying the other girls in the house. Talking so much shit about me behind my back. You literally said the only way I could've gotten in the final two is if I slept my way to the top, and you slut shamed me, saying I was some type of hoe you'd find at a gas station."

Dana blinks. "I don't remember that."

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

A clip plays flashing backwards to Miguel's season, of Dana sitting begrudgingly in her camera confessional shortly after you won a group date rose during week 2.

A producer from behind the camera asks Dana, "So, what are your thoughts on her winning the group date rose?"

She scoffs and shakes her head. "I don't have any. Girls like her can't make guys fall in love with them. Like, I think she'd have to sleep her way to the top to even make the final two...I-what?! Sorry...it's true... Like it's all in the way you carry yourself and she carries herself like...I don't wanna be rude but, a slut. I mean, just look at the way she talks and dresses!! It's giving...gas station prostitute."

She giggles furiously, laughing off the producer's playful scolding in response. "Oh please...I'm sorry, I'm sorry okay?! I'm just being real. Just uh...just edit that one out." She shrugs and smirks.

🌹🌹Back to the present🌹🌹

Dana blinks innocently again, "I don't remember saying that. I might have said something to that effect but those weren't my exact words."

"Dana! Nobody on this beach even fucking likes you!" Felicia yells, her blue eyes aflame with frustration.

"Well sweetheart, I didn't come here to be liked, I came here to win." Dana replies in a honeyed tone.

"We've given you SO many chances to try and be friends with us and you act like you're better than everyone else here. You have zero respect for any of the women on this beach and throw yourself at all the guys. So just admit it, you hooked up with Peter. Be a big girl, put on your big girl panties, and OWN YOUR.SHIT!" Felicia claps in her face with every word.

Dana gets in Felicia's face, screaming back, "I do own my shit for your information. How about you take a chill pill and watch who the fuck you're talking to, bitch??"

"Hey!" Ben stops trying to play referee to the men and rushes over to Felicia's aid instead, the security guards too preoccupied with calming down an enraged George, Miguel, and Peter to jump in the brewing storm amongst the women.

"Leave her alone!" Ben hisses at Dana. But Felicia's getting worked up, trying to wriggle out of Ben's grasp.

"Bitch?! Who the fuck are you calling a bitch?!" She shrieks.

"You, bitch!" Dana says in a taunting, sing-song tone back.

"Dana, you're the last person to be calling anyone on this beach a bitch!" You speak up, putting yourself in between Ben, Felicia, and Dana.

"Yeah, um I wasn't talking to you honey. Mind your business, please and thank you, mkay? Thank you darling!" Dana replies in a snarky tone.

"Well I'm talking to you!" You answer, not taking your eyes off Dana. You can feel your blood pressure steadily rising. "I'm not gonna sit here and let you disrespect my friend. And, you didn't even answer my question, did you hook up with Peter?"

Dana rolls her eyes and turns around, "The ones with daddy issues are always the worst."

"EXCUSE ME?!" You charge forward, her low blow setting off a switch, making you see red. You were open about your family struggles on the show and never thought you'd see the day when someone would be cruel enough to use it as ammo against you.

"Get. Out. Of. My.Face," Dana spits, a thick, gooey drop of her saliva landing on your jaw.

You black out into a blind rage of fury, your right hand balled into a fist wound up behind you, knocking Dana on the left side of her face. You follow with your left, socking her in the jaw, then your right again, leaving her almost guaranteed with a fat lip.

"Fucking-BITCH!" Dana screams, grabbing your hair.

You fight to keep your head raised, using all the strength in your upper body as your hands seize her wrist that has a good hold on your hair, also using your knees to try and throw one into her torso to encourage her to let you go. You hit her with one of your knees, causing her to yell, making her loosen her grip a little so your hair is finally free. You get in one more good shot to her face before another security guard seizes you around the torso, picking you up and carrying you away off to the side.

Miguel's attention is shifted away from Peter and the security guards blocking him and he looks over to see you mid-fight, his eyes going wide when he sees Dana grabbing you by the hair and was running over to save you before the security guard beat him to it.

You're sobbing and shaking with leftover fury and frustration, your lip trembling, your hair and dress a little disheveled and a lightly sore scalp from where Dana grabbed you but otherwise unscathed. The security guard sets you down on an empty couch in the common area. Felicia bolts over to you, she can't help but smile a little with satisfaction but it turns to worry and comfort at the sight of your tears.

"Dude....you got her good...oh my God don't cry, don't cry..." She pulls you into a hug, rocking you. Miguel sits down next to you.

"Hey....hey....what happened? You okay? She put her hands on you? Are you hurt? What can I do, what's the matter?" He shoots out the questions a mile a minute, Felicia pulling away for a moment to wipe your tears. Miguel gently pulls up the straps of your swimsuit top you're wearing under your kimono style dress that threatened to fall down and expose yourself. Both of them diligently working to fix you up.

"She needs tissues, Miguel!" Felicia orders. "Get her some ice too."

Miguel nods. "Don't let her get up okay? You two stay right there!"

"I h-hate her...I hate her..." You sputter and lament. "How can someone be so rude and evil...m'm-s-soo sick of t-this...." You sob and tremble, holding your knees in a ball.

"She's gone." Felicia whispers.

"Yeah, she's gone. You don't have to worry about her anymore, sweetie. " Miguel soothes.

"Dude, you got her so good too, oh my God." Felicia mutters to you in a low voice, the sound of Dana whining and screaming at the security guards and crew coming from the other side of the room. "I didn't even know you could fight like that. She deserved that after pushing you that hard, I didn't know she'd go that far..."

"Yeah." Miguel agrees, letting out a soft chuckle. "You defended yourself, there's no need to be upset. She's gone, she's throwing a fit so I think they're gonna take her to the hospital just to get her checked out..." Miguel sits up, craning his neck to try and get a glimpse of what's happening, then grabs tissues off the counter, handing them to Felicia. "I'll be back with the ice."

Felicia nods and starts gently dabbing your eyes as you blow your nose. Ben comes up and sits next to you and Felicia. "You okay there, cookie?" He asks you softly.

"She's okay, just shaken up." Felicia answers while you continue to take shallow breaths.

"M'....M'okay...." You breath out slowly.

"Ben get her some water. Miguel's gone to get her ice."

"I'm on it." Ben leaves, on his way to fetch you water.

"Thanks, bestie...I-I'm scared they're gonna send me home..." You mutter through your tear soaked voice.

"Hey, that's what friends are for," Felicia whispers, stroking your arm and pulling you into a hug. "Dude, fuck Dana...don't worry about her dude, you did nothing wrong. She started it by insulting you and spitting in your face. I saw the whole thing and I can vouch for you. I'm sure Miguel and Ben will too."

Miguel and Ben arrive. Ben hands you a glass of ice water with a curly straw and some freshly squeezed lemon in it. Miguel has an ice pack and your favorite blanket that he wraps around your shoulders, putting his arms around you while Felicia holds your hand.

Peter B. comes walking up to your group, his shirt unbuttoned, hair frazzled, and face disheveled from all the action. Miguel hisses and Ben jumps up, putting his hands on Peter's chest.

"Not now, man." Ben says quietly.

"I just wanna make sure she's okay. I just wanna make sure she's okay!" Peter protests, his face turning red again.

"Peter...fuck off!" You yell over them.

Peter freezes, looking at you sadly. "Baby, I..."

"Peter, beat it!" Felicia yells. "You've embarrassed her for the last time. You tripped and your face landed into some other girl's cunt tonight. You're done!!"

"I wanna hear it from her." Peter says firmly, a lump in his throat.

"Just leave me alone, Peter..." You softly whimper out. "I'm tired, and I'm done..you lied to me, you made me look fucking stupid, and I need space right now."

Peter goes to protest again but Ben shakes his head, "Bro...come on, man. Leave it alone."

Peter shoots a glare at Miguel, then gives you one more sad look before he sulks off, headed towards his room with a loud sigh of defeat.

You hear the ambulance sirens and get a glimpse of Dana being escorted by two security guards, her slightly limping. Her short hair was tousled with a giant puffy bottom lip that's turning red and slightly purple with a bruise, several tissues stuffed up her nostril for her bloody nose. You can't hear what she's saying but it sounds like she's running your name through the mud some more and berating the EMTs as they help her onto a stretcher.

Felicia squeezes your hand while she sits cuddled up against Ben. You rest your head against Miguel's chest as all of you sit on the couch together and stare off, the future of your paradise experience uncertain at this point after such a dramatic night.

The host, Jason Donner, speaks in a voiceover: "stay tuned for another drama-packed episode of Singles in Paradise!”

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

Tags🖤: @miguelhugger2099 @kodo1221 @mimiemie @laysmt @cheerrioeoz , @spicydonut25 @thisistotesnotspam-heart , @famouscattale @thekidscallmebosss , @librababe99 @ce3stvu , @irishbl0ss0mz @nommingonfood @mauvecherie-writes , @royale-skeleton-key , @thesilenthill , @dimitri-needs-therapy , @a-lil-whore @aisyakirmann @sylveon-of-heart , @hobiebrowns-wife @weirdothatwritess , @reader-1290 , @thesmutconnoisseur , @koyukilove

@hardlystrictlystarwars , @lareinamorgan , @serpentineaerodynamics

@envyjmoney , @clementines-valt , @the-pan-liquid

@stellasloth @migueloharasoulmate , @cynwing

@ddreabea , @what-the-jams @loaves4me , @p1nkliquor , @mcmiracles , @tojishugetiddies , @1-800-choke-that-ho @idfciluvsmut

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel atsv #miguel x reader #miguel ohara #spotify #miguel o'hara angst #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel ohara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fanfiction #Spotify

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tnsophiaonly · 8 months

Text

HATED - SAGAU.

In which Self-Aware Genshin People loathe your existence and believe that you're the founding reason why they're not real.

Tired of this obsessive and lovesick creator or impostor SAGAU? Then what about this alternate? Be wary, it's dark and we'll mentions of torture something ig idk

Basically. This is impostor AU and the real creator who looks like you is horrible af. And you're an actual impasta.

Special mentions (♡): @sleepparalasis @haru-tofuu

Hatred. That's all they could feel when they see your face throughout the screen. Amusement. When they see your face wrinkle in pain and frustration when you get a standard character in through wishing or when you get the wrong stats in artifacts. After all, you were the one that made that right? You were the sole reason for your own pain, you made them in a fictional universe, where nothing is real. You're horrible for that and you should take the consequences of such.

That's why you're transported in this place, in which you thought the world was heaven before became your most terrorful nightmare. Hell, just like how it should be. Teyvat is hell. An upside down world, ruled by gods-demons and filled with darkness and pain. The world you created. Right? That's your fault. Your fault alone.

---

"Oh great heavens, that's cold..." you chatted out, freezing and shaking because of the cold. You face the wrath of the Cryo Archon's Nation. The home of the so-called organization, Fatui. Snow and ice were evident everywhere. And the cold, the cold was for sure affecting you. (Especially if you live in tropical areas or close to the equator? I feel so sorry for you)

Any bits of liquid that could be created were frozen within milliseconds. So you're sobbing just makes it worse, maybe if you actually used your feet and moved and found a place to heat yourself up instead of shining and sobbing, you could probably be in a great condition right now.

But you chose to cry. Pathetic really. And you expect this to be an impostor of me? The so great, almighty creator of The Genshin Universe? Absolutely not. I'd rather guide the Traveller to the absolute truth of this world at a fast pace than be, represented by you.

But fear not, I am sure I am able to at least give some potential to you... OFCOURSE I can do it. It's me after all.

But now i should really have this pathetic excuse of an impostor of mine to.. move and do something rather than cry and freeze to death. After all, I can't have my ungrateful people of Teyvat run after a very obvious impostor who's close to dying eh?

So, much to my dismay, I chose to give you guidance, see? Such a kind creator, you're a very lucky fella..

"ah-aaachoo-!" You sneezed, it feels like something just happened, but what? And why? Those questions are left unanswered. As you unconsciously started moving your freezing feet to walk and find some shelter to heat up.

Oh how the torturous snow storm causes you pain and despair. Why were you striving forward anyways? Your whole body aches. It hurts. Why. Why.

"You deserved it." The inner within of the core speaks.

You deserved it..? Why?

No one answers.

----

After walking away which felt like centuries, you finally are met with a bonfire, a large one in fact, the only problem was that it's within a fatui camp. Oh god...

"Well, well, well.. what's a worm like you doing here for?" A taunting and mocking tone says so to you. Oh my Lord, oh it just couldn't get worse thab this, bits of electricity shocked you slowly, you were feeling the wrath of The Balladeer, the 6th Fatui Harbinger. You could only stay in your spot as you feel electro build up within you, hurting you, killing you.

You're sweating bullets of fear just turns to ice because of the environment, it was no use to run.

"Well well comrade, what's with the guest? I didn't know you were quite the welcomer!" A mocking and sarcastic voice taunted the hat guy, which earned him a glare for, the ginger bread- hair man had a boyish charm and looks, almost looking innocent if you didn't know better. Well guess it got worse.

The ginger head guy's eyes widen, as his taunting smile quickly turns into a frown. The mocking gaze turns into a face of anger, annoyance.

"Is that..." he muttered, bewildered and angry. The ginger guy quickly launched unto you, with bloodlust and wrath causing you to flinch, that's before the entire electricity builds up within you and completely shocked you to oblivion, and the ginger's defense mechanism, of course he backed down.

The electro flowing within you caused so much pain, overbearing pain, yet you did not scream. You did not scream in pain. That one thing The Balladeer was hoping for. Maybe the shock was too strong you couldn't scream at all? Yeah, that's it..

The electro shock died down, and you passed out on the spot. Yet you were still not dead. Despite the fact that electro burns were evident, and that you were crisped to the spot, you're still alive. How lucky, or should I say unlucky?

The ginger- you know what I'm tired of calling him ginger, it's Childe. Childe went close to your passed out body. Caressing your electro-burned hand, before gripping it.

A bone crack was heard, oh did he crack it too hard? No worries, he doesn't care. The fatui skirmishers walked close to the place "We'll take care of it Lord Tartaglia." The pyro agent spoke.

"No." The Balladeer protested, as he grabbed a fistful of your hair and forced your head to look at him, ofcourse you're still passed out, and you had an expression of sorrow, The Balladeer could just smirk. It's the creator.

"I could make use of our Grace after all..." He spoke sinisterly. The agents were on the edge and so was Childe, it really was the creator, they were so close to jumping and killing you on the spot if it weren't for the fact that The Balladeer was there.

-----

The sound of chains vibrated throughout the dungeon, sweet little breaths and movements.

You looked around, it was pitch black and only one candle was the source of light, which was out of reach for you.

A swarming and overwhelming feeling of cold and warm was brushed against you, the electro infused chains hurt when you try to make even the slightest movement, why were you here? Don't act stupid, you're aware why.

You could partly hear the conversation outside. It sounded a lot like the fatui agents earlier, it seems they were discussing either transporting you or guarding you still.

Your breath hitches—which echoed in the room— when they mentioned Il Dottore. They're not planning on giving you to him right...?

You could feel yourself sweating bullets, your eyes showed fear as your expression scrunches into fear. There's a 50/50 chance, but you've always lost your 50-50!

The door opens, and someone steps inside, a blue haired fellow, walking slowly and causing an intense atmosphere. You could feel yourself shaken, not because of him, but because everything feels colder. At least that's what's on your mind.

The blue haired fellow caressed your chin. And forcibly made you look at him.

"My, what a wondrous pet The Balladeer has taken upon."

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wintfleur · 14 days

Text

🍂 ͡ ꒱ JULIETTES RELATIONSHIP WITH MAT & QUINN

au masterlist - everything for the AU is under #🍂 ͡ ꒱ Juliette Leclerc

°. — everything for the couple under #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🤎୧˚ Juliette’s lovers

°. — you can find anything smutty under #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🎞️୧˚ smutty lovers

ᥫ᭡ BASICS!

★ When did they meet Mat and Quinn met when they were kids at a hockey tournament, and they instantly became best friends. Juliette and Mat met at a party in 2021, Auston Matthews introduced them (August) Quinn and Juliette met at a Canucks game in 2021, their PR agents wanting them to film a small video together (November)

★ When was their first date, and who asked Juliette was the one to ask them on a date, she invited them both for a night at her place, she wanted it to be just them where they didn't have to worry about hiding. They made dinner together, laughed and watched movies, and just talked as they had some wine and got to know each other more. (february 2022)

★ When did they start dating, and who asked Quinn and Mat asked julie to be their girlfriend after a long and emotional conversation, and they asked her out after they celebrated her win in Emilia-Romagna (April 2022)

★ When did everyone find out their friends and family found out weeks after they became official , taking their time until they were comfortable to tell their loved ones. The public found out when an article was posted , the sole reason to expose them and ruin their careers. The article had pictures of them , intimate details of their relationship and honestly just stalker behavior from who sent in the information. (June 2023)

★ Who said i love you first Quinn was the first to say i love , they were cuddling and mat and julie were being very soft and sweet to quinn who was having a really hard day , he was just so overwhelmed with love from the two of them , and just whispered it. Mat and Julie were so happy and they of course said it back , littering their boy and each other with sweet kisses. (july 2022)

ᥫ᭡ DETAILS!

★ Their tropes Dom!Mat x Switch!Quinn x Switch!Julie , Friends to lovers , Talker!Mat x Listener!Julie x Talker!Quinn , Hyper!Mat x Sleepy!Quinn x Sleepy!Julie

★ Their love languages Mat’s; physical touch , acts of service. Quinn’s; words of affirmation , physical touch. Julie’s; physical touch , gift giving.

★ Their favorite sleep positions Hmm they don't really have one , it always changes. They really just love being close together , mat and quinn are more clingy when they sleep and julie doesn't really move much unless she gets too hot. Mat moves a lot in his sleep so he's not in the middle a lot , most of the time it's quinn or julie who's in the middle.

★ Their pet names for each other They honestly call each other every pet name under the sun. Mat uses baby , love and sweetheart the most. Quinn uses honey , angel , and babe the most. Julie uses darling , love , and handsome the most. Mat and Julie also like using a lot of pet names in french , it makes quinn really flustered.

★ Their couple songs Seven by Jungkook & Latto & Sweet by Cigarettes After Sex

★ Their contact names for each other Mats contact list; ‘Julie baby🤎 ‘ ‘Q💙’ Quinn’s contact list; ‘barzy💙’ ’juliebug🤎’ Julie’s contact list; ‘matty💋’ ’quinny💋’

ᥫ᭡ FUNFACTS!

𐙚 They love going on vacations together, mostly tropical places.

𐙚 When Julie and Mat first met at the party, they shared a tipsy kiss. When Mat got home that night, he called Quinn and told him all about it. It was just one kiss, but God that was all Mat could think about.

𐙚 Quinn didn't admit it , but he was a little jealous of the fact that mat and julie kissed. His feelings for Mat were confusing and honestly scaring him a little bit . . . but he wasn't jealous that Mat kissed someone else that wasn't him, no he was jealous that he also didn't get to kiss julie and he wasn't there to see it happen.

𐙚 They planned on keeping their relationship a secret for a while until they were comfortable enough for the public to know, but sadly that didn't happen.

𐙚 They are all very family oriented, and they can't wait until they can have a family of their own

𐙚 The boys both have their own place, but they practically live with Julie at her place in Monaco when they don't have hockey.

𐙚 They love late mornings where they can wake up late, cuddle in bed for however long they want until they get up to make breakfast.

𐙚 They love doing sports together, going golfing, and playing some tennis !! They are a very active couple.

𐙚 The boys love to take advantage of the fact that they're good at the two sports, loving to help her. “Helping" means pressing their body close against hers and whispering tips in her ear . . . little do they both know that she pretends to be bad just so she could feel them pressed up against her.

𐙚 Mat’s filthy dirty talk always leaves Quinn and Julie a flustered and breathless mess . . . he loves the hold he has on them.

𐙚 They all love how domestic they are when there together, especially in the mornings. Waking up in each other's arms, soft music playing through the kitchen as they make breakfast before eating it on Julie's balcony that gave them the beauty of monaco.

𐙚 At the lake house they have a loveseat in the living room where the three love to curl up with each other , watching movies with Jack and luke. Mostly scary movies . . .

𐙚 Physically Mat is more protective out of them all, but vocally that's julie. She will not stand for them to be disrespected or talked down to because of their sexual preference. Quinn is also very protective, but in a more of an intimidating way if that makes sense?

𐙚 Mat and Quinn get along wonderfully with Julie's friends , they feel very welcomed with them.

𐙚 It's bittersweet when the boys are together and Julie can't be there with them, they are happy to be with each other, but it's just not the same without their girl.

𐙚 They all proudly talk about their relationship when asked, but they usually keep it to themselves. All of them like their privacy, and even though they were exposed they were still going to sorta private about each other . . . Which is almost impossible, the amount of pictures that the paparazzi take of them is crazy.

𐙚 They once went on a cruise where they invited their parents and siblings and their significant others. They had a great time and it definitely brought them all closer , especially Arthur with Mat and quinn.

𐙚 They love the city and living by a lake, but they absolutely love living in the country. They have talked about it many times being their own land to build a home and stables, ranch and vineyard, growing old together with their family . . . it's their dream.

𐙚 Whenever they do have arguments which isn't often , they all have different reactions. Quinn normally just needs some time to himself to calm down and collect his thoughts.

𐙚 Julie wants to fix things right away , she hates the idea of them being upset with her and she feels terrible and gets hard on herself.

𐙚 Mat is like a mixture of the both of them , he needs some space but he also tears himself up with guilt.

𐙚 Mat definitely is talking in their group chat the most , and poor Julie wakes up with tons of messages she has to read through from the two of them.

𐙚 Out of all of them , mat is the most open about their relationship with the public/media

𐙚 The boys love getting in contact with Julie's assistant so they can plan surprises for her!

𐙚 Julie loves taking her boys shopping , trying on different outfits for them and picking out clothes for them to wear. They pretend to hate it but they all know they dont.

𐙚 They love when Julie sings to them or plays the piano.

𐙚 The boys love when Julie goes out with them and their teammates, they just love seeing how well she gets along with all of them.

ᥫ᭡ THEIR THINGS!

𐙚 Judging everyone and everything together.

𐙚 Cozy nights on the couch with a warm blanket and bottle of wine.

𐙚 Matching jewelry in some way, Mat with a necklace, Quinn with a ring, and julie with a bracelet

𐙚 Always texting each other good morning and good night.

𐙚 Spending weekends on her yacht.

𐙚 Skinny dipping

𐙚 Spending their nights in the hottub on her balcony or at the lake house, laughs and tipsy kisses Shared between them

𐙚 Clubbing! . . . well more like Julie and Mat dragging Quinn to the club with them.

𐙚 Going on late boat rides at the lakehouse, so they can relax and watch the stars.

𐙚 Quinn and Mat playing one on one at the rink while Julie watches and cheers them both on, a lot of bets are won like this ;)

𐙚 Slapping each others asses

𐙚 Always touching each other in some way

𐙚 Mat planning spontaneous dates

𐙚 Going to carnivals/fairs and the boys competing against each other to get Julie the biggest stuffed animal.

𐙚 Nights where they make homemade pizzas and play video games, a loving competition of course between mat and quinn.

𐙚 Quinn and Julie holding hands while Mat is holding one of their waists, wherever they all walk together.

𐙚 Their hands in each other's back pockets.

𐙚 Juliette sending them love letters.

𐙚 Always sending each other flowers when they are apart, the flowers remind them of each other.

𐙚 Having amazing communication

𐙚 Counting down the days until they see each other again.

𐙚 Having access to each others calendars

𐙚 Whenever they call their parents , they end up talking about each other.

𐙚 Giving each other massages

𐙚 Being each others biggest supporters

𐙚 The boys painting julie's fingers and toes for her when she doesn't want to go get them done

ᥫ᭡ INTERNETS FAVORITE MOMENTS!

𐙚 The day after the article exposing them came out, Julie proudly said that both of her boyfriends were in attendance at the race when she was being interviewed . . . She then went and won the race and then proudly kissed them both after the race.

𐙚 An interview had asked Quinn a very highly insensitive question about his relationship and Quinn was quick to snap and shut the reporter down, a very very intimidating glare on his face while doing so.

𐙚 In the background of an instagram story Charles posted, you can see mat, quinn and julie cuddled up in a hammock in the beautiful leclerc home backyard, smiling and laughing at Arthur who was trying to impress them with a hockey stick that Quinn and mat had bought him.

𐙚 When Julie made a special appearance on lando’s stream and the two were talking about a night out they had with mat, quinn and a few of their other friends. Julie was talking so fondly about the two boys and Lando had a great time playfully teasing her about it.

𐙚 When a video of the three of them dancing (grinding) together on the dancefloor at a club went viral . . . along with a clip of mat pouring champagne from the bottle into julie's mouth, quinn licking and kissing up the few drops that rolled down her neck.

𐙚 The photo dumps Julie posts whenever they go on vacation together.

𐙚 Every time Julie is shown on the big screen at their hockey games , or when the boys are shown on the screen in the paddock.

𐙚 The clip of mat and julie going on the big screen at quinn’s game , mat having his arm wrapped around julies shoulder as she was snuggled into his side as she sipped on a beer , both of them wearing a quinn jersey , then it showed quinn who was sitting on the bench smiling as he saw the two of them on the big screen.

ᥫ᭡ LOCK SCREENS!

﹕─┈ Mat’s Lock Screen is Julie and Quinn when they all went to this really cool record shop while exploring the town they were visiting , mat thought it would be cute so he took the picture!

﹕─┈ Quinn’s Lock Screen is a picture of Julie and Mat after a date night , they both were quite tipsy and just flirty and giggly. They were both just so happy beautiful so he of course had to take a picture.

﹕─┈ Julie’s Lock Screen is a picture of Quinn and Mat when they all stayed together at the family ranch when they all had a break , it was a very therapeutic experience for all of them. Julie loves horses , and she loves her boys . . . So it was perfect.

ᥫ᭡ MOODBOARD!

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( AHH FINALLY ITS OUT !! I’m so sorry it took me forever to get out , I had a little struggle with coming up with some facts about them. I really hope you guys enjoy this , I love them so so much !! I’m not proud of the moodboard at all , it’s so bad !! Maybe in the future I’ll make a new one , it was just hard finding pictures for them !! )

°. — taglist ( @lovings4turn @toasttt11 @cixrosie @ru-kru @alwaysclassyeagle @theopenlocker @lavisenri @callsignwidow @willowpains @winterbarnesblog )

©️WINTFLEUR

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andypantsx3 · 1 year

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something in the water | 2 | shouto x reader

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Fem Reader

length: 5.2k | 2nd of 6 chapters

summary: As a future marine biologist, you’ve scored big on your final internship: a summer in the tropics, researching the waters off the coast of a lush, sunny island. But what you thought would be all beach days and piña coladas turns out to be the revelation of a lifetime when you haul in a handsome merprince, and discover not everything in these waters is quite as it seems.

tags/warnings: mermaid au, interspecies relationships, mating rituals/courting behavior, (sort of) case fic, aged up characters, eventual smut, fem pronouns/afab reader

series masterlist

You stared at the man in the water, your mouth falling open.

The snorkel mouthpiece dropped right out of it, leaving a wet streak down your chin. You quickly tore your goggles back off, convinced the glass was somehow distorting your vision.

The man in the water blinked back at you. His eyes darted over your body quickly, twin flashes of color, as if assessing a threat. You could see his left eye was the vibrant turquoise blue of the surrounding waters, the right a dark stormy gray, like the clouds of a tropical storm. His hair was as evenly-split as his eye color, snowy white on the right and a fiery red on the left, slicked back from his face with ocean water.

And his face. His face.

He was easily the most beautiful man you had ever seen, and you felt the breath punch out of your lungs just looking at him. His mouth was so soft and sensuous, his nose high-bridged and sweet, at complete odds with the strong, masculine sweep of his jawline. A pink scar circled his left eye, somehow intensifying its color.

Every single one of his features were so precise, so symmetrical that a shiver went up your spine, and something about the way they all fit together had all the lights in your brain flickering out, one by one.

And then his perfect, plush mouth moved, shifting suddenly into a vicious snarl. He let out a hiss, the likes of which you’d never heard before, and your vision seized on a set of very sharp canines set into the sides of his mouth. Incredibly, inhumanly sharp canines, that was.

“Holy shit,” you said, your focus snapping away from his mouth as a long-fingered hand came up to grasp the net over him—a hand tinted a deep crimson red, tipped with pointed claws. Your heartbeat kicked into your throat, and your gaze traveled under the water, down a powerful chest and across a long, sinuous, red-and-white flecked thing that was most assuredly not a pair of legs.

And that’s when you realized.

This man was not a man.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you breathed, stumbling back from the edge of the boat. Your foot caught on the upturned plate, sending you sprawling over the back seat to land hard on your ass.

A snarling hiss sounded over the side of the boat, accompanied by a slapping sound, and another wave of water arced up over the side.

The slap of water to your face helped you return to your senses, and you realized he—or, it—the thing in the water with the human face was caught in your net, and you had no idea what that meant for him. Some species needed to swim to keep oxygen-rich water flowing over their gills.

And just because this guy–er, creature–had a human face and hands didn’t mean that’s where he breathed from. As you thought this, the sounds of his thrashing grew even more panicked.

You grabbed the seat you’d fallen over, hauling yourself upright, and crept to the edge of the boat, receiving another wave of water in the chest for your troubles.

You unhooked one of the emergency oars along the side, shoving it out to draw part of the net back towards you. The creature in the water hissed again, eyes snapping to the movement of your oar, and he seemed to try to retreat from it as far as the netting would allow.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, I’m not gonna hurt you,” you chanted in a squeaky, panicked tone that you were sure did nothing to calm him. “Oh my god please don’t hurt me back. I’m gonna get the net off you,” you promised him.

He thrashed harder, those blood-red claws swiping at the oar as you managed to hook it through one of the holes in the net, and quickly drew it back towards you.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you moaned as a claw raked a deep gouge into the top of the oar.

You wondered for a wild moment, if you shouldn’t just leave him, run back to the wheel and start the boat as fast as you could. You wanted to be as far away from those claws as possible once this dude had been freed.

But another look at the panic in his eyes as he thrashed about told you you couldn’t. Not if it meant this creature would potentially drown. You carefully reached out a hand, grabbing the net off the end of the oar.

“Okay, I’m just gonna pull this up until it comes untangled,” you said, though it didn’t look like he was hearing you at all. He leveled another snarling hiss in your direction.

A lightning bolt of adrenaline shot through you, numbing your hands, tingling down your spine. “Oh my god come off of it, asshole,” you said, in a wild moment of insane bravery. “I’m just gonna let you out and then I’m gonna drive away and literally never, ever come back here.”

He cast a long look at you, blinking, seeming to calm for a second. Then he made a motion towards you, those claws reaching out again, and you bit off a scream.

“If you try to take my hand off, I will use this oar on you,” you promised him darkly. “I will knock all those sharp teeth right out of your mouth, do not try me.”

The creature paused, blinking again, those heterochromatic eyes flashing up to yours.

You watched him in mutual shock, your hands shaking on the net.

“Uh, okay yeah. Can you understand me? Probably not but, uh, good. Calm,” you said, trying to sound coaxing. “I’m not gonna hurt you, uh, unless you hurt me. Right? Totally no reason for anyone to do any hurting out here.”

The creature’s tail beat, but he made no other movements, even as you raised your hands again, drawing the net upwards so that it started to separate. It tipped him over a little bit, and he spun in the water like a burrito coming unrolled.

You had to stifle something between a horrified sob and a laugh. You kept up a stream of inane commentary in the lowest, calmest tone you could manage, which wasn’t very calm or low at all. “Okay, looking good. Just a little bit more. And we’re definitely not going to attack each other when this is over. I’m just some random biologist and you’re just some random, uh, sea guy…Which is very cool and normal…”

To your surprise, however, he let himself be rolled gently, until finally the net came free, and you quickly hauled it back over the side of the boat. He whipped back around to face you, and you took a startled step back, fumbling for your oar.

“No, do not come over here. Your face is very handsome and I would hate to break every single bone in it,” you said, waving the oar at him threateningly.

He just watched you, floating there in the water, staring weirdly.

You observed him, waiting for any sign of movement, the both of you entered in some strange marine standoff. But he made no further moves, and you thought if you booked it, you might just be able to get out of there without getting your eyes clawed out.

You hurriedly dropped your oar and clambered for the front of the boat, throwing yourself at the throttle and gunning the engine. The motor rumbled to life again, completely deafening, and you quickly steered the boat back the way you’d come from. Water sprayed out behind you, leaving a thick white bubbling trail, under which you lost sight of the man in the water.

He didn’t seem to follow you, however. You hightailed it all the way back to the main port, barely managing the appropriate docking knots with your shaking fingers. You threw yourself back onto the dock and raced ashore, your heartbeat only kicking back down once you’d made it safely onto the main street, where groups of tourists were poking through gift shops, queueing outside the various food and juice vendors, and chattering at the tables outside the open air restaurants.

You stumbled all the way back to the inn, a journey roughly fifteen minutes longer on foot than by jeep. Yu caught you on your way in, coming back from the office with a cup of iced coffee in hand, and she frowned as she looked you over.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, kid,” she said, pulling down her sunglasses. You watched her brow furrow in thought.

“No!” you said quickly, though why you rushed to deny it was beyond you. “No, nothing like that just—one of the nets was shredded and I didn’t think to bring a spare.”

Yu’s frown deepened. “Shredded?”

You nodded. “Yeah like something—uh, or someone—cut through it. It was totally done for.”

Her gaze sharpened over the tops of her lenses. “Someone?”

You swallowed, the memory of heterochromatic eyes and claw-tipped fingers flashing before your eyes. “Um. Yeah maybe. It didn’t look to be um, a shark or anything. It was torn too cleanly in too many places.”

For some reason Yu looked excited. “Like a diving knife? You think it could be Sunfish?”

After glimpsing those wicked claws yourself, you had absolutely no doubt what had been at work on that net. But after a moment’s hesitation you nodded, saying vaguely, “Uh, could be. Maybe.”

Yu hummed to herself, tossing a blonde lock over her shoulder as she gestured you back inside her bungalow. She drew you up your usual chair by the observation equipment, slurping loudly from her iced coffee. “We’ll have to keep an eye on them,” she said, a touch of relish in her voice that you did not like at all. You were learning that Takeyama Yu always enjoyed a good fight.

You gulped, settling down uneasily in the chair. You hoped she did not mean for you to go back to the reef too soon—though if that creature was smart he would have cleared out by now.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. You watched blankly as she clicked back into her monitoring windows, and nodded on auto-pilot as pointed out a couple things she’d noticed while you were gone. Your mind was elsewhere, back on the reef, replaying the events that had just occurred.

You couldn’t make sense of anything, didn’t know what to think.

All you could say was that you thought you might have, possibly, unbelievably, encountered a real life merman. You didn’t know what to make of that.

—

The next few days did not clear things up.

In fact, they seemed to make everything worse.

You went through your daily tasks, monitoring observation stations, maintaining equipment and carting things back and forth between all the professionals on your team. Yu loaned you out to Kamui for testing and you spent an afternoon hunched over a microscope, comparing slides of microbes, endlessly piping and staining. You prepped batches of slides to be mailed back to the main lab for more extensive testing, and learned more about water acidity than you ever had in any of your university lectures.

But over all of this activity loomed the shadow of the thing you’d seen in the water. Every time you took the boat out to rebait a station or resample the water, you couldn’t help but look over your shoulder. Even worse than the reef shark, you thought every shadow was the merman in waiting, every slash of red the merman’s clawed hands reaching towards you, every movement in the corner of your eye the last thing you might ever see. You eventually made it back to the reef and deployed a new net, and you thought your heart was going to punch straight through your chest, it was pounding so hard.

You never caught sight of the man in the water again, but somehow, some way, you felt like you were still being watched.

Although maybe that was just paranoia.

Almost worse than your daily heart attacks though, was the data you were gathering. The results of Kamui’s testing and Yu’s observations weren’t lining up with the initial reports that had prompted your presence in the first place. A sample sent with the report had showed incredibly high levels of chemical pollution, and though you were finding some thinning of expected populations and slight microbial unhealthiness, none of it was lining up with the expected levels given in the whistleblower report.

The report had been anonymous, so there was no telling where the sample had come from.

But you couldn’t help but wonder if somehow you were monitoring the wrong places.

Remembering Izuku’s friendly chatter from the day you arrived, you eventually dug out your phone again, clicking into the address for Kacchan that Izuku had provided. You wondered if, as a local gatherer, he might have a better read on where things were, and where you were going wrong.

A quick follow up conversation with Izuku in the main office revealed that Kacchan’s real name was Bakugou Katsuki, and that he had the day off today, to Izuku’s knowledge. Armed with that information, you followed directions back out of the dirt drive onto the main lane, following it for a few hundred feet until it pulled off again into another dirt path. You made your way down it through the thick tropical growth, until it spat you out into another cleared drive on which a jeep was parked.

There was a small, whitewashed house behind it, almost right up against the sand of the beach. A row boat was pulled up onto the sand, and further out into the water you could see a motorboat anchored. It had been painted a dark grey, at odds with the tropical surroundings, and you could just make out vibrant orange lettering spelling out the boat’s name—the Fuyumi.

You could see a man on the beach, padding across the sand to the rowboat, several waterproof bags and boxes in hand. He was blonde and just as well-muscled as Izuku had been, his skin littered with the same workman’s scars.

“Um, hello!” you called. The man whipped around, a red-eyed glare meeting your curious gaze.

“Who the fuck are you?” he demanded, his voice a low growl.

You blinked, slightly unnerved by this greeting. “I’m, um, Y/N. I’m a marine biologist.” The man’s glare didn’t waver. “Um, well, intern.”

“And?” he asked in the most impatient tones you’d ever heard.

You tried to push down a sudden annoyance. You needed details from this man. It wouldn’t do to flip on him straight away.

“Izuku said you work as a chef at the resort. He says you collect a lot of local ingredients?”

Bakugou scowled. “What of it.”

It wasn’t phrased as a question, but you answered anyway. “I’m with a team who’s looking into the possibilities of over-fishing and wastewater pollution in local waters. I was just curious where you collect plants, where you fish, and if you’ve noticed any particular changes over the past couple of months?”

For a brief second, you thought the harsh line of Bakugou’s mouth softened, and he blinked. But moments more and it was gone, replaced by a distrustful look. “Sunfish’re scum but I don’t have any info. All my plants and shit are fine. Fish too, if maybe thinned a little.”

You quickly drew out your phone again, clicking into the notes app. “You’ve noticed a population decline then? For any particular species?”

Bakugou let down his waterproof containers to cross those intimidating arms over his chest. “I fish for barramundi.”

You quickly noted that down. “Can you describe what you’ve noticed in terms of decline?”

Bakugou scowled again. “The fuck is there to describe? They’re harder to catch because there are less of them.”

You suppressed an eyeroll. “Okay. Anything else you can tell me?”

Bakugou’s mouth thinned. “No.”

You sighed, then tucked your phone away in your pocket again. “Alright. Last thing. Just—is there a particular spot you usually fish for them?”

Bakugou looked like the last thing he wanted to do was tell you, but he finally pronounced, “By the reef on the north side.”

Your skin prickled with the memory of the creature you’d encountered at the reef. You wondered, wildly, if that creature—that merman—had anything to do with the fish populations thinning. Maybe he was an invasive species—an over-hunter. Maybe it was nothing to do with Sunfish LLC at all…

That would explain why you were finding less significant microbial change than you had expected, even if the native species’ populations were declining.

You nodded in understanding. “Okay. Thanks for the details.”

Bakugou said nothing, seeming to wait for you to leave.

You cast another eye out over the beach, to the rowboat he’d been heading towards and back out to the motorboat anchored offshore. Even from this distance you could tell it was a much nicer model than the ones your team had rented out, and judging by the meticulous, clearly-custom paint job, it was well loved. Your gaze wandered over the vibrant orange script again.

“Who is Fuyumi?” you wondered.

Suddenly every fiber in Bakugou’s body went stiff—even more impossibly angry than before. “Get the fuck off of my property right the fuck now,” he said.

Your eyes darted back to his. His crimson gaze was somehow intensified even more, and you got the sense that if you did not find your own way out, he’d very well show you the hard way.

You gulped. “Right. Okay. Thanks for your time. I’ll, um, just be going.”

Bakugou grunted, his arms crossing tighter over his chest.

You turned on your heel, edging into a quick trot back up the dirt drive. Bakugou watched you the entire way, and you met his crimson glare as you looked over your shoulder just before you made it back into the dense tropical foliage. You followed the path back out onto the main road, ruminating on your encounter.

For the little help that he’d provided, you got the distinct sense that there was something Bakugou hadn’t told you, something he was deliberately withholding from you. But there was no telling what that might be, and there was no way you were going to be able to pry it out of a guy like that.

You sighed as you followed the driveway back to the inn, waving at Izuku at the front desk as you passed, and made your way back into Yu’s bungalow to report what you’d gotten out of Bakugou. She decided you’d take a trip back out to the reef tomorrow to have a more careful look around—a directive that sent a swarm of shivers down your spine. You really, really hoped that merman had moved on by now.

You spent the rest of the day re-reviewing old footage with particular focus on barramundi, trying to annotate where in the footage you’d seen some and how many members were in their school.

When work finally wrapped up you trekked back to the port to have dinner and drinks with the entire crew, catching the team up on the interview you’d had with Bakugou, and listening to their updates in turn. Kamui had apparently had no further luck in testing, Masaki had nothing conclusive in terms of counting yet, and Death Arms was still locked in some sort of political stalemate with Sunfish LLC over when you’d be able to get onto the premises to inspect the property itself.

Dinner wasn’t a total wash though. You managed a pina colada, pleased at the stereotypical tropicality of the choice, and spent most of the evening entertained, watching Kamui defend his plate from Yu’s wandering utensils and listening to Masaki recount previous field operations he’d taken part in. Before the internship, you’d sort of assumed you’d always work out of a lab, but you were growing enamored with the idea of field work, especially when it might take you to another place like Yuuei.

The team went their separate ways after dinner, retreating to your individual bungalows. The sun was still setting by the time you made it back inside, though—and still fuzzy with good food and your pina colada, you thought it was high time you spent some time on the beach, especially with a view like this one.

You made your way down onto the sand and plopped down at the edge of the water to watch the evening deepen. The beach’s view was mostly southern, but the color of the setting sun spilled generously across the horizon like watercolor, and you still appreciated the effect on the slice of sky you could see. The water was darker, a deep indigo in the oncoming twilight, and the waves lapped gently at the shore. It was so unbelievably beautiful, and you thought again that field work might be your calling.

You made a note to ask Masaki how he’d gotten into his line of work, and options for you to do the same.

You were absently tracing out a note to that effect in the soft sand when the sound of splashing roused you from your trance. You just managed to jerk your head up in time as something warm and wet closed around your ankle.

Before you could even scream, you were being dragged into the shallows. The water closed above your head, filling your mouth, gargling your panicked shout.

You struggled for a moment, kicking out, splashing water everywhere. Your eyes had closed instinctively, so you didn’t see whoever grabbed you, but suddenly you were being righted, your face guided back above the surface by a strong hand. The grip of another stayed clamped, vicelike, around your left ankle.

You spluttered and coughed, blinking your eyes open against the seawater. The water stung your eyes and at the back of your throat, and then the inside of your nose as you inhaled sharply at the sight of the handsome face peering back at you.

It was the merman from the reef.

He was poised over you, his handsome face only inches away from yours, his mouth a serious slash. Little droplets of water beaded on his skin and collected on the tips of his long lashes. You could see the careful tension in the line of one well-muscled arm, feel it in the clawed fingers that were still clamped around your chin, keeping your head above water.

You let out a weird gurgling noise, freezing in his hold.

“Holy shit don’t kill me,” you said.

Those heterochromatic eyes blinked, then traced over your features slowly, consideringly.

“I swear I did not say a thing about you,” you babbled, horrified. “Literally nothing. I was so quiet, like nuclear launch code levels of tight lipped, okay? I was so mum about everything so there’s no reason to get revenge, right?”

The man’s eyes dipped to your mouth as you spoke, as if mystified by your human babble. You instantly quieted, not wanting to irritate him further.

And then he opened his mouth. And out came an unnervingly human set of words.

“You let me go.”

He spoke in a low tone, smooth and soft, like the quiet rumble of waves at a distance. But there was something behind it too, something you felt like you could feel behind your teeth, a bioelectric hum somewhere in the depths of your brain. A shiver went down your spine.

Your mouth fell open against his claws. “You can talk?”

You watched his mouth shift minutely, pursing, like he was annoyed with the way you’d phrased this.

“As can you,” he said blandly.

Well of course you could talk! You were a person using person words!!! But he was—he was—

“But you’re a….sea….dude.”

His mouth quirked on one side, just barely perceptible. “A merman is the term, as far as I am aware.”

You didn’t dare ask how he was aware of anything people called him. But it certainly implied that you were not the first human this guy had come across.

But if other humans had come across this merman before, you didn’t doubt you would have heard about it by now. The existence of merpeople was not exactly a topic to keep quiet on. Which meant—which meant—

“Are you about to kill me?” you asked fearfully, becoming all-to-aware again of the prick of claws at your chin and ankle. Claws that had shredded the net at the reef like it was nothing, that had gouged deep welts in the oar you’d used to free him.

The merman looked perturbed. “Not if you answer my questions.”

You gulped. “Okay yes—yes I am an open book! Whatever you want to ask me, I will tell you! I am so open, you will not believe how open—”

A claw against your mouth silenced you, and that little shiver went up your spine again. Your eyes darted back up to the merman’s. Up close, you could see that he had a scar around his left eye, the skin a deep, dusky pink. It made the electric blue of his iris stand out that much more.

“Why did you let me go?” he asked, a white eyebrow raising.

You opened your mouth carefully, and he removed his fingers. “Is there…a reason I wouldn’t let you go?”

Those heterochromatic eyes narrowed on you. “Humans are dangerous.”

You couldn’t help the way your eyes trailed down to his claws again, then flicked back up to those sharp canines. You didn’t think you were the dangerous one in this scenario. Plus, you were a good person. What the hell were you supposed to do with a captured merman? Put him in a zoo?

“Yeah that’s why I grabbed you and pulled you out into the shallows,” you said, slightly offended by the implication.

Both his eyebrows went up, and he leaned a little further into you. You splashed backwards, as far as his grip on you would allow, which wasn’t much.

“You threw a net on me,” he said, his tone accusatory.

“Not on purpose,” you said. “I didn’t even know you were there. I was doing my job.”

“Which is?” he prompted.

“I’m a marine biologist. Uh, intern. We’re monitoring Yuuei coastal waters for adverse effects from, um, a cannery.”

“Sunfish,” he said.

You blinked, surprised. “Oh, you know it?”

A frown marred that perfect mouth. “Yes. They are not to be trusted.” As he said it, there was a scraping feeling behind your teeth, attached to that weird bioelectric tingle that his every word left curling in your brain. You could quite literally sense his dislike.

A strange feeling crept over you, and you remembered Bakugou implying something similar not hours ago. What exactly was it that everyone seemed to know except you? And how would a merman of all people know?

“Then, they are doing something bad out here?” you asked, curious.

“Their nets are dangerous for my kind, and they are growing ever more present,” the merman’s eyes flickered up and down your face again, like you might be at fault for the proliferation of nets instead.

“Hey, we’re just testing different environments,” you held your hands up. “We’re catching and releasing, we just want to take a look at a couple different species, count them, and see how they’re doing. We’ll be gone in just a few weeks.”

The merman looked you over for a long moment, as if assessing the veracity of this claim. His gaze slowly trailed down your body and you fought down a strange wave of embarrassment. His fingers flexed on your ankle, those claws rasping sweetly, dangerously over the thin skin there, and he pulled your leg out a little bit, like he was inspecting it.

“How strange,” he murmured, his tone going soft with the subject change.

You didn’t know what to think, just stared at him as his gaze roved over the bare skin of your leg in your sea-soaked shorts.

“I thought you–uh, have met people before,” you said, face flushing. “It’s just–that’s just my leg.”

Those heterochromatic eyes cut back to yours, startlingly intent. “I have. But Katsuki would sooner kick me than let me look closely, and Izuku finds it uncomfortable. And yours are…..more interesting…”

Well of course Izuku would find it uncomfortable! The swell of your embarrassment about your leg being more interesting momentarily choked off all thought—but then it hit you what this merman had just said.

“Katsuki like Bakugou Katsuki?” you demanded. “And Izuku like Midoriya Izuku?”

The merman hummed, staring at your leg again like he was uninterested in this conversation. “Yes. You’ve met them. I can smell them on you.”

You jerked back, startled by this assertion. He could smell that you’d been near them? What the fuck. You were floored. And had this been what Bakugou might have been hiding when he’d all but chased you off his property?

“But you—how can you—? Just who the hell are you?” you demanded, as the merman petted a careful finger across the hollow behind your ankle bone.

You shivered as he looked back at you, a little amused indent at the corner of his mouth.

“I am called Todoroki Shouto.”

He stared at you expectantly, as though he expected some reply, and you quickly scraped together your manners, though you never imagined you’d need to use them on a merman.

“I’m Y/N,” you offered, carefully reaching out a hand to shake, wondering if Shouto was as familiar with human customs as he was with words.

He accepted your hand carefully in his own clap-tipped fingers, eyes glittering. “So you are not here hunting my kind,” he said, sounding more like he was coming to a conclusion than asking a question.

You nodded hurriedly, aware of how small and fragile your own hand felt in his much larger one. “I didn’t even know you existed until I accidentally netted you. And we’re trying to stabilize this environment, not kill things in it,” you told him. “With any luck we’ll be getting rid of Sunfish and you won’t have to worry about them anymore either.”

Shouto’s claws pricked gently over your wrist as he released you, and he leaned in again, his handsome face serious. “Then we will be friends,” he said, with all the sober certainty of a child declaring the kid they’d just met five seconds ago was their new bestie.

With Shouto’s hard form looming close and his taloned fingers still clutched around one of your legs, you rather thought there was little room for disagreement. But you were fascinated by him nevertheless, and thought you might not have wanted to deny him anyway. Here would be the opportunity to observe and interact with a merman, something no outsider to these waters might ever get to do again.

You nodded, and a small smile tugged at the corner of Shouto’s mouth, clearly pleased. His fingers tightened where they still gripped your ankle, and your stomach fluttered with nerves.

And that’s when you knew there was so much more to these waters than you’d initially understood—and things were about to get even weirder.

#todoroki shouto x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #shouto x you #shouto x y/n #shouto x reader #todoroki x you #todoroki x reader #todoroki x y/n #shoto todoroki x you #bnha x reader #bnha x you

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instant-delusions · 9 months

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‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ⁱᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵒᵖ

gojo satoru x f! reader

au: canon

cw: smut (public sex), cursing

nsfw under the cut

⋆｡🌊𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°

you watched as your melon soda flavored popsicle dripped down your fingers and sighed - summer was definitely not your favorite season. currently, you were laying still to sunbathe (get a perfect tan to rock your new colorful clothes!) and absent-mindedly babysat your hyperactive boyfriend, aka gojo satoru. "look at this abomination, (y/n)!", peeking at your boyfriend from underneath your huge hat, you saw him standing in the water with a big grin. satoru was wearing black swimming trunks and a hawaiian shirt which was unbuttoned, meaning the sunlight hit his muscular body and snow-white hair just right, plus his eyes twinkled like expensive sapphires. in awe from your lover's beauty, you almost failed to notice the big, slimy, disgusting sea cucumber in his hands. "oh my god satoru, ew!" completely annoyed, realizing it's just another one of his antics, you laid down again, plopping your headphones in to drown out all his noise-making.

it's not like you didn't enjoy his absolutely hilarious schemes, but it's been a super busy week full of curse-hunting and you wanted to enjoy a vacation in the tropical climate of okinawa. dropping your ruined popsicle into a handkerchief, you turned your body around to tan your backside, sighing at the comfort of a new position. although you had your music at full volume, you could hear satoru's muffled voice coming closer to you. sliding down your sunglasses, you glared at him and pointed to your ears, signaling you couldn't hear him and laid down again. just a few seconds passed until one of your buds was ripped out by him, causing your string of patience to snap brutally. "satoru, I swear to fucking god!-" standing up with an intimidating pointed finger and a hand on your hip, he knew he was getting the lecture of a lifetime. "wow, satoru. wow. I'm asking for ONE quiet, relaxing day. what is this behavior?" with a strict tone and wild hand gestures, your vent goes on - almost as if you were disappointed in the actions of a pet, instead of your boyfriend. with every passing sentence, said man's pout grew bigger - he stepped closer to you to caress your waist in an apologetic way. "I'm sorry, baby." satoru pressed a sweet kiss to the crown of your hair, "let's take a nap, yeah?". you definently liked the sound of that and nodded, burying your head in his chest.

cuddled up under the parasol, nose filled with the smell of satoru's sauvage and seasalt, his wet body pressed against yours, you surprisingly found it hard to relax. with your legs and arms wrapped around him, you wondered if he's really napping or teasingly waiting for you to make a move. unbeknownst to you, satoru had the image of your ass on full display behind his closed lids, thanking the sun, the first humans and whatever else discovered tanning enthusiastically. he felt you big-spooning him, crotch pressed against his lower back, of course your arms around his waist, breath fanning his neck. if this is a competition to see who's giving in first, he won't regret losing.

"babe." satoru turned around, a smirk gracing his face. his gaze dropped from your eyes to your lips, lifting his hand to trace them with his fingers. "yeah?" you whispered, leaning closer to his lips, eyes closed in a dreamy state. he tutted, pitying you for believing he'd give you what you want without firing up his ego first. wrapping his arm around your waist, he pulled you onto his lap. "you want to fuck here?", the sorcerer grinded his half erect dick into your thin bikini bottoms, making your face turn red. thinking for a few seconds you whispered back; "it's not tourist season yet, so whatever." , he nodded with a grin, watching you drop your hands to his damp trunks. "not even gonna make out first? am I just a slut to you?" you sighed, rolling your eyes at him - watching as he puckered his lips in a kissing motion. sometimes, you're confused as to why he gets you wet at all. grabbing his face, you pressed your lips against his heartedly, moving against him with eagerness. it was almost as if you could feel his childish facade drop as he rubbed and grabbed at your thighs, sucking on your lower lip. satoru tickled the first moan out of you and giggled, putting one of his fingers behind the knot that held up your bikini top. slowly, he pulled to string, kissing all of your beautiful skin now revealed to him. oftentimes, he gets the feeling you don't understand how engrossed he is with you, almost obsessively so - satoru admits, he might be overprotective and possessive, he feels it especially in situations like this, having his hands and mouth full of you. obviously he covers this with jokes and a sort of playboyish persona, rarely showing his anger or jealousy, but once his mind gets hazy...

spit was dripping down your nipples, boobs decorated with red and purple hickeys. satoru continued with undoing your bikini bottoms, throwing them into his open bag - "for when I'm on missions without you" he smirked. getting frustrated feeling his clothed dick against your weeping pussy, you pushed his trunks down his thighs, almost drooling at his fat cock slapping against his abs. it was rock hard and huge, pre dripping down the veiny length. excited, you wrapped your hands around it, feeling its warmth and his pulse, spitting into your other hand you jerked him off slowly. "(y/n), stop that. wanna fuck you." the sorcerer snarled impatiently. satoru positioned you by guiding your hips, each of your legs caging him in. "oh? I'm on top." you teased, making him grin, though there was a sort of wickedness in his expression. "don't get cocky." with his enormous strength, he pulled you down, fitting his whole length in instantly. hearing you scream like this was music to his ears, feeling your pussy tighten around him in shock. it felt like his dick was everywhere, warmth engulfed you as you felt him growing inside of you, filling you over the brim. your hands were grabbing at nothing as your thighs started shaking, he didn't even start moving yet.

deeming the wait long enough, satoru started grinding into your heavenly pussy, feeling the sand move with him. "stay quiet now, don't wanna traumatize the elderly." at this point, you were so overwhelmed by the feeling of his dick moving, you didn't hear his remark at all, plus he knew you couldn't stay quiet. watching spit and tears running down your face, he set his goal to completely ruin you this time. grabbing your sides so tightly they'll definitely bruise, he started pistoning his cock into you, bullying through your creamy walls, watching as your juices drip from his balls to the towel on the ground. grunting, he watched as your eyes criss-crossed and started lifting you up by your ass, hitting deeper spots. "y-you on the pill, right, babe?", seeing you nod weakly, he went completely feral, driven by the thought of filling you up with his cum. with his constant, fast and hard thrusts, you came without even feeling it build up, scratching his back open with a loud shout. "fuck baby, cumming on my cock like a good girl. watch." he grabbed the back of your head, making you watch as your pussy fluttered and squirted around his huge dick. satoru wrapped his arms tighter around you as he felt your body going limp, slowing his thrusts down to heavy grinding. with a long, breathy groan, your boyfriend came in a constant flow, filling you up with his warm, sticky sperm- his cock so big it didn't let anything slip out. a thought crossed his mind as he watched you whimper, feeling the heaviness of his dick softening inside- "mine"

coming to your senses, you cupped satoru's cheek, surprised to see such a serious look on his face - though it almost vanished instantly, replaced with his signature goofy smirk. "damn, I fucked you good." slapping him playfully, you rolled your eyes and chuckled - wiggling your hips.

"round two in the hotel?"

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu kaisen gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jjk gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen x reader oneshot #jjk x reader oneshot #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader smut #gojo x reader smut

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ask-cyn-au · 2 years

Text

Crack Tropical God AU

Green: Orange you can't throw everyone you hate into a volcano

Orange: yes I can, fucking watch me

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

A ship approaches the island

Chosen: babe watch how strong I am

Proceeds to fail and makes the ship get past the barrier

Dark: ........ I want a divorce

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

MT: why the fuck is their an actual child threatening me?

Red: I'm 11 so shut the fuck up

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

Blue: ....... horny thorny....

Yellow: ...musty lusty...

Green: ........sick dick...

Orange: get off my island you horny fucks

#alan becker #animation vs animator #animation vs minecraft #tropical god au #crack quotes

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dark-cynder49 · 10 months

Note

".... which is why it was so easy for MT and Purple to take Red back home with them without the others knowing"

Excuse me

What?

They thought Red was a stranded child who lived on the island since he was so small and didn't talk to them. So they thought I'd be a good deed to bring Red back to civilization, not knowing that Red wasn't a lost child.

They were trying to do a good thing ^^;

#alan becker #animation vs minecraft #animation vs animator #cyn responds #avm red #tropical god au

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justadeadreaper · 7 months

Text

Hey, this is for @frogchiro and her COD Gods AU. I hope she is comfortable with this, and I'm sorry if she isn't and will remove it if she asks me. But, let me just say thank you for blessing us with this idea and I am so happy that you are back as you are one of my favourite Tumblr accounts and your ideas are always amazing.

This will be very long and could be confusing so please hear me out as this is 4771 words of explanation.

My idea for God König could be him being a mysterious God that not many people know about entirely but they'll know his cults. He has many, many cults (like the cults of Dionysus or Pan) worshipping him, but all for different things due to how he randomly appeared one day and had all these cults popping up like it was planned, but all these cults fight each other over what he's the God of as they can't seem to agree but to try and beat each other they try to spread their worship to more people, not knowing that it makes König more powerful. I can also break down each aspect, why he has them, how powerful each aspect is due to the size of the cult, and what parts of the world would worship which aspect.

To make this make sense I have made a hypothetical world which I hope @frogchiro is okay with. So for this hypothetical world which I'm basing on other fantasy worlds and our Earth, we can say that most of the mountain ranges would be a majority in the North, going through the North-East and a lot of the East. Now forests would go across the whole world but would be more focused in the North all across to the West, although the North would be thicker deciduous or timber forests compared to the West where it would be mostly oak or birch forests, but the South-West would have some tropical rainforests while the East has a mixture of tropical forests and normal forests. The East going into the West, which would be the middle, would be mostly desert area, which has some oases here and there. Most of the South is a coastal region with the upper parts being sand deserts while on the South-West and East-West would be tropical rainforests with the furthest parts of the South being pure beaches that are mainly used for fishing villages. Of course, there are offshore islands that come off the mainland, with the South and East having the most islands.

Wildlife/Nature/Earth- I see König being worshipped as the God of Wildlife/Nature/Earth due to how we see in his Ghillie Monster and Desidia skins we see that he is tanned and he gives the vibes of an outdoorsman who loves nature and wildlife but also feral animal vibes especially when on field, plus the gun we see with his The Wolf skin (look on the wiki) reminds me of the hunting rifles my great-great uncle owns and he is a giant outdoorsman. This aspect is mainly worshipped in the North and West because those are the regions where it is mostly land thick with nature and forests. The powers König gets from this are the ability to talk to animals and have some control over them but not complete control, he can also morph forests to make them thicker or more confusing, he can also help plants grow but he doesn’t have to much control over it, and he can mimic animal calls but also shift into the animal if he has a part of that animal and he can grant a safe passage through forests or safety from predators to his followers for this aspect.

Mountains/Caves- I see König being worshipped as the God of Mountains/Caves due to how he is a mountain of a man, so it would make sense for him to be associated with them and I thought to add in caves due to caves being closely linked with nature and caves but also due to how caves are natural shelters and it made sense in my mind that people would worship and thank him for these shelters within nature. This aspect is mainly worshipped in the North and North-East because those are the regions where it is mostly mountain ranges and mountains tend to have tunnel systems. The powers König gets from this are being able to be so tall and use mountains as his territory and he can grant shelter and to grant big, strong children to his followers for this aspect.

Shadows- I see König being worshipped as the God of Shadows due to how it was one of the easiest for him to steal first and I always find it funny when someone so big is so quiet and sneaky that they blend into the shadows. This aspect is mainly worshipped by assassins so it can be anywhere but normally there is a designated spot in a city where the assassins can pray to him. The powers König gets from this are being able to travel through the shadows and sneak around and he can grant similar abilities to his followers for this aspect.

Death- I see König being worshipped as the God of Death due to how he probably has the highest kill count and if I saw him on the field I would think that it was Death coming me himself and because it fits into the backstory I have for him. This aspect is mainly worshipped by a select few cults, which would mostly be his most original followers. The powers König gets from this are to be able to see when someone is going to die, to easily kill anyone and to have control over the dead, and he can’t “grant” anything to his followers for this aspect unless they want him to kill someone after they’ve given him a big enough sacrifice.

Oceans- I see König being worshipped as the God of Oceans due to how there’s the whole Eldritch König thing in the fandom which was made worse by his Deep Lord skin and paired with his ability to change into animals from being the God of Wilderness he could have transformed into a Kraken once so people started worshipping this Kraken form so it did not hurt them when they are fishing and allows the to fish in its territory. This aspect is mainly worshipped in the South because it is mostly fishing villages on the coast. The powers König gets from this are the ability to control the ocean and sea storms and he can’t “grant” to his followers for this aspect as he isn’t really aware of this aspect yet.

Fertility- This is inspired by @stariepie 's idea for God König, and I hope she is okay with this, and if not I don't mind removing it as I don't know if she doesn’t mind me expanding on the idea. I see König being worshipped as the God of Fertility due to how much of a fine specimen of a man he is, like who wouldn’t and I see him as a family man, so it just works. This aspect is worshipped anywhere because people want to have kids. The powers König gets from this is boosted fertility and being good at you know what and he can grant a boost of fertility to his followers for this aspect.

Physique- This is inspired by @stariepie 's idea for God König, and I hope she is okay with this, and if not I don't mind removing it as I don't know if she doesn’t mind me expanding on the idea. I see König being worshipped as the God of Physique due to him in my eyes being one of the perfect specimens of a man based on my type, he could easily protect his family and he could give the best of cuddles and he is carrying a whole battle axe down there. This aspect is mainly worshipped in the North because his physique would be most suited for the North region and the men who survive the most there would be like him as you need to be strong and warm to live there. The power König gets from this is his amazing physique and he can grant advantages to get stronger and more muscular to his followers for this aspect.

Secrets/Mysteries- I see König being worshipped as the God of Secrets/Mysteries due to how mysterious he would be to most humans and because canonically we know virtually nothing about actual König but also due to how I think König tries to hide his past and plans to make it easier for him to achieve his goal. This aspect is mainly worshipped by people who worship König as to not piss him off but not because they actually care about him. Music/Poetry/Literature- I see König being worshipped as the God of Music/Poetry/Literature due to how I envision each God having a wholesome part of their aspects which is worshipped and I envision these for him as I think it fits him as I get the vibe he’d probably be a poetry snob and enjoy learning to play and actually playing instruments even if most are too small for him, plus it’s a nod to all the AI covers people make of him singing. This aspect is mainly worshipped by artists because it first came about due to artists romanticising the aspects of König, and he was seen as a martyr for the outcasts of society, which artists tend to be, so he became their God in return. The powers König gets from this is the ability to be able to play most instruments and have a beautiful singing voice, and he can grant the ability to have a breakthrough song or poem to his followers for this aspect.

Madness- I see König being worshipped as the God of Madness due to his social anxiety and the paranoia it causes as I have social anxiety myself which causes me to have paranoia, and I thought it would be cool nod to his social anxiety and how he is feared on the field even by the people he is rescuing. This aspect is mainly worshipped by a select few cults, which would mostly be his most original followers. The powers König gets from this aspect is to cause madness and panic, which is generally in the form of paranoia or anxiety through his screams or he can cause people to become paranoid to the point of changing their memories to something that involves him, and he can grant the ability to cause madness in the enemies of his followers for this aspect.

Royalty- I see König being worshipped as the God of Royalty due to how in German ‘König’ means King, so I thought it was fitting, and royals would see him as powerful and would want him on their side so they could continue ruling. This aspect is mainly worshipped by royalty all over the world. The powers König gets from this are nothing but just being known as the favourite God of certain royal families and he is seen to grant strong heirs to his royal followers for this aspect.

Lost/Forgotten/Outcasts- I see König being worshipped as the God of the Lost/Forgotten/Outcasts due to the backstory I made for him and with his backstory of being bullied outside the AU as I can see how he’d relate to people who are outcasted from society or forgotten about especially for physical differences. This aspect is mainly worshipped by people who are outcasts. König doesn’t exactly have any powers for this aspect, but he has an elite form of guards who are outcasts that he picked out himself as he saw something in them that no one else could, and he uses these guards to protect certain areas that are extremely sacred to him. I could honestly spend hours explaining each aspect and the backstory of how he got it and how it would be worshipped and explain the influences more clearly, but that is the basics for each one, and if I get permission I may go into them more and explain them more.

Strength of the aspects from strongest to weakest: -Madness -Lost/Forgotten/Outcasts -Shadows -Death -Mountains/Caves -Wildlife/Nature/Earth -Secrets/Mysteries -Physique -Royalty -Oceans -Music/Poetry/Literature

My inspiration for God König was actually Persephone due to her history as it's really interesting, and the same for Pan as his history is really interesting as well. I ask you to please watch Overly Sarcastic Productions' videos on the two Gods (their video about Persephone and Hermes as it depicts the history of the two) since if you do, my ideas will make a lot more sense, but I will do a summary. Persephone and Demeter predated the Greek Pantheon due to their mysterious cult and were already associated with Death due to being linked to Poseidon before the Pantheon we know, as he was originally the God of the Underworld, which linked to the Earth and the God of the Oceans as that was seen more important at that time. Persephone had many titles and many things associated with her since people didn't directly talk about her due to being genuinely terrified of her as she was powerful and she was a Dread Goddess linked to Death. Pan is equally as mysterious as Persephone as he is described as a rustic, ancient God of the wilderness and was primarily worshipped exclusively in Arcadia like Persephone. Barely anything is known about him, but we know he's the reason we panic due to the noises he would make.

I also have a backstory for König, which isn't totally figured out yet, but here is what I have so far. So König started off as a God of Madness and Death. He wasn't well known or worshipped at all as being a God of Madness and Death; no one wanted to worship him as those things are associated with very negative things, which caused König to be extremely jealous of the Gods that were being worshipped, which affected his insecurity. So, as the God of Death, he started going and killing other Gods and taking their place; it's why he suddenly appeared as he previously had no worshippers, and he took over the place of one God. The first aspect was the aspect of being the God of Shadows from Graves, and this started by having a cult in a ring of assassins, who needed the shadows to do their job, as he used his powers as the God of Madness to change the minds of that cult to believe he was the original God of Shadows the entire time. But, our dear König got greedy and cocky with his new sense of power and wanted more, so he sent out his assassins when on their killing missions to spread the word of him. Now each assassin was given a different aspect to start cults on depending on the region he was in. These original members are his original court and infested many small cults and would build them up until König was worshipped for that aspect more than the original God, which boosted his power but weakened the powers of those Gods, giving him the chance to go in and kill them. And König isn't going to stop until he gets someone to pacify him or until he's the God of everything, as he wants all the power and he's paranoid about being forgotten and being reduced to a powerless God again.

I imagine König to look very cryptid-like to fit his theme of being inspired by a Dread God and to fit how mysterious and all-encompassing he is. For his body, I say that he is tanned, as I mentioned earlier, as we see that he is somewhat tanned in Desidia and Ghillie Monster skins, and I see him as an outdoorsman, but he would be the tallest God and be a mountain of a man in his height but also in his build, as I imagine him to be pure muscle with a layer of fat on top so think of something similar to a dad bod but muscular which makes him all the more warm and cuddly. Now I see him as someone who is a bit hairy, and for his hair colour, I’m basing on my own family where we are dark strawberry blonde, but at different angles it looks like different colours, so from the back he could look ginger or the front he looks blonde since I can’t pick one colour for him and I thought it would look so pretty on him. I think his head hair, it’s long and puffy to the point that when he takes his mask off, just a bush of hair falls out and it’s an absolute wild mess. His body is riddled with scars, but some noticeable ones would be his cleft lip scar, a clipping of his right ear which is missing, one that runs down the whole of his spine, multiple stab wounds going from the upper area of the left of his chest to the lower of the right of his chest, a burn scar on the top of the right side of his forehead and the bottom left side of his face, and multiple scars on his hands from when the knife in his hand would slip out or from when he was stopping attacks. I feel like his tattoos would either be runes or statement pieces of animals, and he would have piercings in his ears which use bones of bandits he has killed. For his clothing, I imagine him using a mask which is a deer skull with a veil coming out of the bottom of it to cover his face, and he mostly wears furs from a mixture of furs from elk, bears, and wolves -mostly so he can transform into them to scare off hunters from his temple- which he uses as a cloak and to cover his lower half but I would imagine him not covering his chest as a cocky show of strength and to show off his body in general as he is proud of it. For decoration, I see him having chains/necklaces that have small trinkets on them as references to what aspects he has (e.g. for Ocean he has a belt-like chain of shark teeth, but for Wilderness he has vines wrapping around his body, but for Death he uses bones as decorations).

I'd say his sacred animal would either be an eagle due to it being the national animal of Austria and Germany as an eagle represents boldness, power, and victory, which fit König well, or it could be a wolf due to The Wolf skin König has, but also due to how I headcanon him as part Serbian due to @would_tbh on X/Twitter and for the family history I headcanon him to have and due to how wolves are Serbian’s national animal and it fits him well as wolves are described as lone creatures which fits his social anxiety but also how they’re pack animals which fits how König has his own team he has to take care of as a Colonel and wolves are supposed to represent loyalty, strong family ties, good communication, education, understanding, and intelligence which you’d need to be a Colonel and I see him being a big family man. Although I have two more unique choices of what his sacred animal could be. The first is a bear, as in Germanic regions, it was used to represent a warrior, which fits our big guy well and bears are big just like him, and bears can be deadly or cuddly like him as well. While for Indigenous people, a bear can represent strength, family, vitality, courage, health, thoughtfulness and independence, with little need for fellowship with it being self-contained and strong-willed in nature, which are all attributes I would associate with our Colonel. But my second and most unique choice is a winged boar. This is due to how wild boars are surprisingly shy animals that generally try to avoid humans, which fits how the fandom sees König as shy even though he’d probably just want to avoid other people; however, wild boars are also formidable assholes -I don’t get recommended being chased by one- when cornered or angry or threatened so it has come to represent courage and ferocity. The reason why I say a winged boar though is due to Khrysaor, as it was supposed a winged boar that was born when Medusa’s head was cut off. I thought this could be a nod to the eagle, but also a nod to how Medusa’s eyes are deadly as they can turn anyone to stone and the only part of König that isn’t covered is his eyes, and if he were to look at you, with his size and demeanour, you’d probably freeze on the spot like you were a stone statue.

König's relationship with the other gods is messy, and when I say messy I mean messy:

Ghost- Fucking hate each other. Just plain enemies to the point that they have fake versions of each other in their temples that they train with and brutally murder. König hates Ghost as due to Ghost being the God of War, Strength, and Fertility; he is König's biggest enemy due to how much power and influence Ghost has since it's an equal amount to König and Ghost has the strength as the God of War and Strength to be able to attack König and actually be able to beat him in combat. While Ghost hates König as some people have started worshipping König for fertility instead of Ghost, and due to Ghost thinking Madness should be under the aspects that Ghost is the God of as Madness induced by Fear and Panic is what is experienced in War (this is based on the sons of Ares: Deimos and Phobos).

Soap- Surprisingly, these two actually get along. I imagine Soap is also the God of Art, as in painting and drawing, so the two get along due to their love of the arts. Soap loves making paintings of König's poems, songs, or stories, and in turn, König loves making songs, poems, or stories based on Soap's drawings or paintings. They are also friends as Soap being the God of Spring means that König's nature flourishes more and is reborn after it's destroyed by Makarov in Winter.

Gaz- This is based on how people replace Gaz with König but these two are hostile to each other. The reason why I say this is because Gaz is the God of the Hunt, König is the God of Wildlife. To hunt in König's forests and kill the animals under his protection, you need his permission and sacrifice some of the hunt to him. Gaz did not do that as he didn't know, and Gaz accidentally killed König's favourite winged boar, which pissed König off greatly, so he went to fight Gaz and so the two have hated each other ever since.

Krueger- I headcanon Krueger and König to be cousins, so these two do get along but they annoy each other like all cousins do as even not in the Gods AU, I see König as the older cousin who used to be the main problem maker of the family before Krueger -who was an accident- was born; they may not have much of an age difference as I see it as König being five years older, but once König realised that Krueger was as chaotic as him, or even more so, he would get Krueger to do his schemes with him or just encouraging Krueger’s schemes. But back to the AU, originally, Krueger was a more powerful God than König, but as König grew in power, he became more powerful than Krueger, but as they have that cousin love for each other König helped Krueger by giving him an aspect or two that he didn't want. I don't know what Krueger would be the God of, but I know it would link to König somehow.

Makarov- I headcanon Makarov to be the God of Winter and Plagues. This has caused him and König to be respectful rivals as sadly Makarov's plagues and Winter kill König's animals and nature but he benefits from Makarov's plagues killing people as it means he has more souls due to people dying. Makarov, like König is trying to kill the other Gods to become more powerful, so it has caused a rivalry. Makarov is slightly jealous of König being the God of Death but the two do have some respect for each other because of their similar goals and how their aspects affect each other.

Valeria- I headcanon that Valeria is the Goddess of Deserts and Poisons/Venoms. She and König both don't like Alejandro since König sees him as a risk due to Alejandro being the God of Rage like @stariepie said, and as we see in the campaign, she hates Alejandro. So due to both having a mutual dislike of him, they made an alliance where Valeria's poisonous and venomous animals are protected in König's forest, and in return, König has oases through Valeria's deserts so his followers can have some water when traveling through to get him more followers.

Horangi- Everyone headcanons these two as friends, and I do too, so I imagine these two became friends as Horangi is the God of Bad Luck and Gambling; one time challenged König to a game of Matgo where the first to get enough points to say "Go" then "Stop" got to take an aspect from the other God. Horangi, due to being the God of Bad Luck, lost but König liked Horangi's balls to challenge him to such a challenge, so he gave Horangi the aspect of tigers from König's aspect of Wildlife, which made Horangi also the God of Tigers.

Roach- I headcanon that Roach is also a God of Outcasts, but unlike König who focuses more on people who are outcasted due to their physical appearance, instead Roach focuses more on people who are outcasted due to being different by having a mental disability as I see him as autistic and mute. They are allies since they are the only few people who are accepting of outcasts and they sometimes trade their chosen outcasts with each other as I also see König having autism and sometimes he sees one of Roach’s outcasts that he thinks is a lot like him and the same with Roach as König may have an outcast who’s mute due to a physical disability or scarring.

Price- Based on @stariepie 's idea of God Price being the God of Knowledge and Wisdom and my idea of him also being the God of Stratedy makes König either fear or be uncomfortable about Price. Unlike with Ghost, who constantly fights or acts snarky with König which created the hatred for each other on top of the other issues, Price doesn’t take notice of König as he just sees König as another God but does judge König’s friendliness with Makarov. But, König fears Price due to that, as König is smart enough to understand that with Price being the literal God of Knowledge it means that Price knows König’s weaknesses and knows ways to defeat him, which does not help König’s anxiety-induced paranoia as he sees Price’s indifference as Price plotting something. Graves- Our poor Phillip hates König for obvious reasons. I also see Graves as the original God of Shadows because he started the Cult of Shadows, which was a ring of assassins, but König accidentally became it as well as some assassins saw him and thought oh Death God if we worship him he could help us kill more König saw it as a perfect opportunity to steal his first aspect by making them think he was the God of Death and Shadows. This, of course, created hate between him and Phillip as Graves sees him as an undeserving thief who’s overstepping and trying to take over, while König hates Phillip as half of all assassins still worship Graves and König thinks that they should be worshipping him.

One little fun fact: a headcanon I have for God König is he is actually the God that gets sick the most as he is the blood type AB- as seen on The Wolf skin and said on the wiki, and all my relatives that are AB+ or (especially) AB- get sick really easily and seriously so I imagine him to be the worst when he’s sick; he genuinely makes man-flu seem like it’s nothing as he’s overdramatic and tries to push through it even if he is near enough dying.

Sorry about this, but I'm just a giant König fanboy and adore this man and have so many fucking ideas and headcanons for this man which I may post at a later date if anyone is interested because I have so fucking many, and I have made a full backstory and family tree and the same goes for Price, Makarov, and Soap which I can talk about for days. If I have anything more to add to it, I'll probably post it or send it to @frogchiro 's inbox, but if you have questions, you should honestly ask her as it’s her AU unless I get permission from her to answer the ones I receive.

Now, if either person mentioned in this are uncomfortable with this or needs me to remove anything, just please tell me, and I'll remove it when I see it. But I hope they are okay with me expanding it with my own ideas, but if not I do not mind removing it. If there’s anything offensive or any mistakes, please tell me. I also may come back and edit this at a later point if I think I need to. I just saw the posts and got inspired as I adore König, especially God König. Also sorry if the formatting is weird this is my first ever post on Tumblr instead of being a lurker so I may change the format if I'm not happy with it and if I need to add any tags to this I will just tell me if I need to.

-This is Ozzie signing out, and I hope you have a fantastic night.

#konig #konig cod #konig call of duty #konig mw2 #könig #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig mw2 #gods!cod au

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grandlinedreams · 8 months

Note

Hey hey hey! Your writing captures these characters in ways that I could never. I’ve had this idea wracking my brain, of Ace as a mechanic for some reason- but, hear me out. The shop owner is Whitebeard, and Ace meets Pops daughter when she comes in to help out one day at the shop not knowing who she is, and I honestly think you can bring this vision to life.

Thank-you, it really is an honor to hear that and I appreciate it!! But also BESTIE UR BRAIN MWAH MWAH MWAH that is SUCH a good concept and I hope that I can do it justice!!

[Heads up!: mechanic!au, afab!reader/gendered terms]

ㅡ

It's sheer luck that lands Ace the job. He's been looking for a while now, desperate to land something that pays more than pocket change an hour because even with Sabo and Luffy also employed, they've been barely making ends meet.

He won't tell them that though, swipes bills out of Sabo's hand before his brother can even open them. "Not your job to worry about it," he tells him when Sabo glares. "It's mine."

He doesn't want them to have to worry about things like that, not when Sabo's found a good balance in college and Luffy's finally considering college at all. So when he finds the ad for the position while aimlessly scrolling through one of the many job application sites, he offers up a plea to whatever god might be listening and applies.

And he gets an interview.

The shop, aptly titled 'Whitebeard Mechanics' is surprisingly in the nicer end of town, situated at the very edge just before the road leads into the sprawling heart of stores and gated communities.

The smell of motor oil is what he catches first, the muffled sound of voices overlapping from an open garage bay and undercut by the whirr of machinery.

"Are you Ace?" He pivots to find the speaker watching him, a man with an interesting cut of blond hair and blue eyes that evaluate him in a way that makes Ace's nerves all the worse. When he nods, the man holds a hand out. "I'm Marco, co-owner of the shop."

"Nice to meet you," Ace says, shaking his hand. Marco's grip is firm, his fingers calloused and seemingly permanently stained with axel grease.

"Pops is waiting for you," Marco says, jerking his head for Ace to follow him into the main building. There's a waiting area with worn chairs and a coffee machine set onto a wheeled storage cabinet, the only decor that of a tropical plant in the corner. "He's in his office."

Ace follows his gesture, a door with a shiny gold plaque that labels it as such and swallows, moving towards it. Steeling himself with a breath, Ace steps inside.

The man sitting behind the desk is Edward "Pops" Newgate ㅡ or at least that's what the little desk tag says, and Ace can tell that the older man would tower over him if he stood.

"You must be Ace," he greets, gesturing to the plush chair in front of his desk. "Have a seat."

Ace does so, hands resting on his knees to hide the nervous tremor of them as he watches the other man rifle through a folder ㅡ his application.

"Your references are acceptable," Pops says, and tosses his folder down. "Background checks out, no criminal history…" He leans forward, staring at Ace over steepled fingers. "But why do you want the job?"

Ace blinks. The threat of my brothers and I going homeless and hungry is a great motivator, he wants to say, but he doesn't. Instead he thinks for a moment, shaping his words carefully.

By the time he's done, Pops is smiling. "Congratulations," he says, "you've got the job."

ㅡ

Settling into his new job is surprisingly easy. There's a natural camaraderie when there's no hierarchy to be found ㅡ and friendship comes naturally.

So it's to be expected when Ace comes into work and stops by one of the garage bays, he makes a beeline for the pair of familiar boots sticking out from beneath the undercarriage of a vintage car.

"Marco," he says as he approaches and knocks his own boot against the one closest to him. "You should come out with me and my brothers for drinks sometime."

He expects the blond to answer and when he doesn't, Ace frowns and nudges his boot again before stepping back when the dolly begins to roll from underneath the car.

It's only then that he realizes that the boots are not Marco's, and the person on the dolly is not his friend. "I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't kick my feet while I'm working."

Ace stares for all of thirty seconds before his mouth starts working again. "You're a girl," he says and immediately kicks himself for both how dumb he sounds and how your eyes narrow. "I ㅡ no, I just mean ㅡ I've never met you before."

"It's because she only shows up when she wants to," answers Thatch from behind him, and he watches you roll your eyes and scrub a hand against a smear of oil on your cheek as you get up from the dolly.

"More like whenever dad decides he wants me to come in and lend a hand," you huff, taking the towel that Thatch hands you to wipe your hands off before you turn towards Ace. "So you're the new guy, huh?"

"Yeah, I'm Ace," he says, mentally patting himself on the back for not stuttering. Your eyes flick over him, assessing him with a curious gleam to your eyes.

"Nice to meet you, Ace. I'm [Name]." Your attention shifts to Thatch as you clap him on the shoulder and begin walking away with him. "Please tell me dad hasn't killed that plant in the lobby while I've been gone."

Watching you go, it's only then that Ace registers that you've called Pops dad.

ㅡ

"So…is Pops really your dad?"

Weeks worth of tentative exchange and working together has afforded him the chance to eat lunch with you when you're at the shop and with the way you look at him over your sandwich, it's clear that you still think he's a little strange.

"It's what it says on my birth certificate," you answer, and Ace catches himself watching the movement of your mouth as you talk, hurriedly averting his gaze before you can call him out. "Most of the guys are like brothers to me since I've grown up around them. Dad has a habit of pseudo-adopting the people who work for him."

He knows that well, the parental warmth with which Pops has a way of talking to him making him try not to think about his actual parents. It doesn't matter, not when he has Sabo and Luffy.

"And what about me?" The question is out of his mouth before he can stop it. "Am I a brother to you?"

For one horrifying moment, you stare at him as though he's grown two heads ㅡ and then you laugh. Not mocking, not teasing, a full bodied genuine laugh that Ace swears sounds better than anything else he's ever heard.

"You're still the newbie," you say, but your tone is colored with affection even as you raise an eyebrow. "Thought you already had brothers."

"I do," Ace answers. He's mentioned them to you a couple of times, entertained the idea of introducing you ㅡ and then immediately scrapped it for fear of the resulting potential disaster.

But he wants to know where he stands with you, aware that his own feelings for you are a little deeper than just that of coworkers. He's also aware that his boss is your father, and that there are a thousand ways this could go very, very wrong.

Doesn't stop him from wanting to try, though. And it gives him hope for the fact that you're not immediately writing him off, compelling him to continue, "Let me take you out on a date."

Of all the things you'd expected Ace to follow that up with, asking you out is not one of them. It's rare that anyone isn't spooked off by your circle of pseudo-brothers, and even rarer still that they don't tuck tail and run when your father is involved.

You should say no. You should make it clear that there's a boundary not meant to be crossed, even without the fact that your father is his boss. But you can't deny that he's grown on you, with his spatter of freckles and loud laugh, a magnetic charm that draws people to him, yourself included.

"Okay," you say, surprising both him and yourself. "But you better not disappoint me, pretty boy."

Ace grins. "Wouldn't dream of it."

#ㅡmine.#one piece x reader #one piece scenario #ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #ㅡanswered.#anonymous #–ml: ace.

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mochilatae · 2 months

Text

A Matter Of Time (Namjoon x Reader)

Word Count: 6.1k (ish)

Pairing: Namjoon x Y/n

Rating: 18+/Mature/Explicit

Warnings: Unprotected sex, semi-public sex, night sex, flirting, kissing (tongue and other), making out, drinking, missionary sex, cumming on (you), orgasms (yours and his), dirty talk, oral sex (licking, sucking), intense sex, mouth fixation, finger sucking, fantasizing, semi/public nudity, spying/voyeurism (mild), thinking about Namjoon's big cock. Probably missed a few!

Genre: PWP, Strangers to lovers

AUs: Mildly CEO BTS/CEO Namjoon

Summary: It's just a vacation at a beautiful resort. ..And it's just a matter of time until it becomes more.

Author’s Note: for @worldwideseal. Suffer well, dear sis. Purely for escape and sauce. Don't trouble yourself with the hows or gaps in this plot, just enjoy.

Thank you for reading, should you choose to. If you feel like letting me know what you liked with a comment, I'd love to hear. Reblogging is ALWAYS appreciated, but never required.

Tag List: @kiestrokes @askkrisachan

The travel agency had promised so many beautiful scenes. By far, this view outstripped them all. And this was not the result of losing track of time in tropical heat or some sun baked illusion.

This was as real as it got: A man, paused at the bow of a decent sized yacht.

The resort brochure had boats—all shapes and sizes. Certainly ones just like this, but being this close to one wasn’t on your itinerary. But snorkeling was, and you’d been doing fairly well at it.

Right up until you’d come to the surface to snatch a quick breath and saw the form, standing at the boat front. You sunk lower into the water, until only your nose and eyes showed.

Even the wide lens of the snorkel goggles didn’t diminish this impressive silhouette. Especially not such narrow hips. Or the way his body just widened the higher your stare went. You’d never seen a shoulder span like this, or a neck so elegantly long and thick.

He wore a smile as he rolled it right, face upturned to the sun.

Whatever might be on his mind, the man wore no concern, letting the sun wash across his sparkling face. Head to toe, every inch of skin shimmered.

You were certainly close enough to watch a few rivulets trickling down one side of his neck. And admire the way his hair was slicked along his scalp with almost artistic swirls. He ran fingers through a section, head rolling your way.

You snorted. A few bubbles broke the surface in front of your face as you bobbed, legs slowly kicking independent of where your focus was: fully zeroing in on this stranger. He certainly looked content relaxing one hip into the bow rail.

I KNEW I should have brought my camera. It was your best investment yet: a waterproof style that you’d saved a bit to purchase. Snorkeling had a purpose and you’d kicked yourself all morning after realizing the camera was sitting on the bed back at the hotel, unused.

Based on the man preening in silence, the camera’s full potential was going entirely to waste.

Wouldn’t have been a crime to sneak a snap or two of this hunk between shots of clownfish and stingrays. Or coral beds and seaweed.

It got better when you actually noted he wasn’t wearing a stitch. It was all bare skin top to toes. He spent a long time in the sun like this because the only parts a shade lighter were the rounds of his ass.

You had to give it to him, those were the best tan lines you’d EVER seen. Following the down slope of his abdomen, you caught the peek of familiar shape. Thick and bare. Your eyes popped as your gaze dragged to the other end of the boat, finding letters, painted immaculately in black with fleur-de-lis shapes accenting.

Fanta-sea

That’s cute. You had a passing concept of boat names, knowing enough that they were usually clever, humorous, or even punny at times. This name suited the owner. As far as you were concerned, he met the definition of a fantasy.

Foremost, yours but who even KNEW how many other women. There was no way on God’s green earth this man was here without company. And if he was? A resort this nice would soon fix that.

You took an unabashed eyeful of the man's ass when he turned away, readily deciding this was the choicest ass you’d ever seen. What you’d managed to see of his front was surpassed only with this angle. He was blessed with long legs and hamstrings defined by sections of tight muscle.

It was truly a delight for the eyes as he strolled towards the bridge, then ducked through an open door there. With him gone, your shoulders surfaced and tension ebbed away. That didn’t stop your lips trembling.

“Jesus..”

Yes, you’d been floating out here for a while, finally accustomed to the temperature, but now a chill ran the length of your body. Skin prickled against the flow as you began a sluggish dog paddle, heading for the shore.

Although you’d started further down from where the yacht floated, it was hard to believe you’d missed it this easily. Every stroke against the current, you tried not to look back. Tried not to think about how he looked. How long he might be staying and was it the same resort?

For now, he seemed to be alone. There’d been no telling giggle, or signs of anyone else there to share the space and the view. No other body sprawled out on the deck, soaking up sunlight. That lack just added more questions to a rapidly growing list.

First and most pressing of all: What is his name?

The second followed just as doggedly, sinking claws into your brain: How could I even meet this guy?

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

The ‘how’ came about all on its own, when you stood at the bar, watching the bartender pouring your drink. Until this moment, you’d been all too fixated on how close he could get to the top and not spill a single drop.

Just beyond the bartender’s left side, you noticed the stare. It wasn’t that you’d gotten to really see the face clearly, but you didn’t need to.

The shoulders were enough, even stressing the crisp white shirt of the form leaned against the bar, directly across the way.

And your confusion dimmed the lazy jazz and island fused beats down to a thrum as his stare held. You found the barstool suddenly so preciously high with both feet swinging inches off the floor.

Your fingers gripped the bar edge as you watched the man stand and make his way around. When he did, you knew that body, even a layer of clothing on.

With a warm evening breeze playing through your hair, your eyes followed the white, linen shirt approaching. It fluttered around the man’s chest as he braced an elbow into the counter next to your left side.

His smile had one dimple and the very subtle shadow of a second on the other cheek. The neon signs above the bar reflected in his curious stare. Both dark brows twitched up.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” At least you managed to speak up. Although the resort bar wasn’t packed at this hour, it was easy to hear your racing heart. The pace was much more than when you’d been kicking through the waves to chase exotic fish or explore coral reefs. And the view, even better.

A glass slid nearer. The man glanced there, then came back to your face. “Yours?”

As you lifted the glass the contents shivered briefly. Your lips met the rim with a responsive “Mmhmm.”

“Are you here alone?” He was moving along, another temperate breeze washing around you both. He wasn’t afraid to ask what you’d wondered earlier. You were beyond certain that this WAS that same man.

Your skin felt alive. It wasn’t just tropical heat, and it would soon be moving to other places. Several, ready to respond as intended around a good looking man like this.

You gulped down a mouthful of fruity coolness, hoping a little liquid courage would go a long way. Especially with your mind full of nothing but the recall of this man’s bare ass and smiling face, soaking up the sun hours ago.

But do you admit that? How could someone even approach that kind of thing? You couldn’t very well say ‘Yes I saw you naked, on a boat. No big deal..’ It wasn’t exactly a nudist resort here and he probably didn’t even think anyone would see as far down the beach as you’d gone.

It must have been written all over your face, because the man’s head inclined as his expression devolved into a cheeky grin. “What is it?”

“I’m alone.” You replied. His stare intensified, his upper body inching closer,closing off space for the breeze roiling its way down the bar, heading at you both again. Your skin was starting to get clammy.

“Is there something else?”

“..No.” Your eyes moved to the glass, sweating on the counter nearby and your nails drumming the wooden bartop. Out of beat and tapping the nail points in a nervous staccato.

He didn’t break eye contact. “I’m here alone too. How rare do you think that is?”

“Not that rare.” You ventured.

There was no way to really know, but you hadn’t missed the pairs and groups of people wandering around in the previous days. The beach was riddled with goers, all laughing and communing around you and your lone towel, umbrella pitched at an angle as you squinted into a book and sucked down a mimosa for a few hours.

It wasn’t a bad thing, but it wasn’t like you’d been able to say you were having the MOST fun you could have. You had plenty of things to do and a partner or friends would just drag your schedule down.

“I think it’s interesting, anyway.”

While he was facing the bar and ordering a drink, you studied his face. The man’s skin had become dewy. The sheen went all the way down into the space at the top of his shirt. This wasn’t like ocean water evaporating in the midday sun rays.

This was a muggy summer sweat, which ALSO suited him well. It was getting hard to ignore the darker spots starting to appear where the sweat concentrated most, at the center of his broad chest.

He turned back with a glass in hand, raised it, then sipped, you spoke up with fingers circling your own glass. You didn’t sip. The glass never even left the bar.

“You’re here on that tour package–Island Escape?” It didn’t hurt to ask. “...I am. It was a great deal. Once in a lifetime thing, you know?” You added. Now felt like the right time to lay out your purpose for setting foot on these beautiful grounds, and it'd save him the trouble of asking.

He smiled again. “I’m more the self guided tour type.”

“You travel a lot?” Alone, hopefully.

The man nodded. You smoothed hair from your neck, winding the sweat dampened strand around one finger.

“Is it for work or…” Your voice trailed off. Bare toes curling, you came off the bar seat and went to the balls of both feet. You shouldn’t yield to the pressure pushing up from inside your hips, but there was every incentive NOT to ignore it.

“..Or something.” The man’s lids lowered perceptibly, watching you over the glass as he took another long sip, then set it down, entirely facing you.

Something about that was so satisfying, despite being overwhelmed. KNOWING he was looking at you, versus you looking at him–with him unaware–was an entirely different ball game.

“How often do you take these trips?” The man asked.

“Let’s start with the important question.” You retorted, a smile breaking out. He mirrored it, showing just how perfect his teeth were too.

“Hmm?”

“What’s your name?”

His head dropped with a chuckle, making both shoulders dance and drooping the shirt front lower. Giving a clear-as-day view of the tight valley between his pecs. And hints of muscle there, judging by the shadows playing. Your throat clenched.

“Yes, we SHOULD get that out of the way. A nagging detail, but probably important. I’m Namjoon.”

After he said his name, he held out a hand. You found his grip warm and measured as he pumped your hand but didn’t let go first. You wanted to hold it all night, but reluctantly pulled your hand back and rested it palm down on your thigh, feeling the heat through your gauzy skirt.

“I’m Y/n. Nice to meet you, Namjoon.”

Namjoon’s head bowed deeper this time, then he looked towards the resort, watching people further away. There were more couples. Somehow the attendance doubled between when you’d gotten here and when he’d come over. It wasn’t like anyone here knew you’d stumbled upon this man hours ago, when you’d seen him in a most intimate way–birthday suited and sun drenched.

For all you knew, this resort had a nudist beach portion. There was plenty to discover and you only had a handful of days. You’d only begun to check off a full list of activities, none of which stimulated below the belt.

Until tonight.

“You’ve been here a little while?” Namjoon asked, stepping closer. Standing that much closer. Within reach, more so than he’d been before. Unspoken respect, but that didn’t mean you weren’t more tempted to reach out and touch.

Underneath your skirt, the heat was becoming too much. So was the ache that was gnawing through you.

“A couple days.” You agreed.

“Me too. It’s nice this time of year.”

“Is that your..boat?”

Namjoon’s brows shot up again, then pinched briefly. “My boat?” He looked good, even feigning confusion, eyes shining playfully.

“Yes.” You puffed a little. “Out there in the water–I saw it earlier.”

“When?” He asked.

“Today. I was snorkeling and I saw it….saw you.” Fire clawed up your neck. Namjoon caught the flutter in your lids and lowered his own more. He took a brief bite of his lower lip, then scoffed.

“Did you? What was the name on the boat?”

“Fanta-sea, I think.” Don’t think. I KNOW. And Namjoon KNEW that you knew. His face came a little closer.

“Yeah. That’s my yacht. Didn’t think anyone would be on the section of beach, down that far. Usually it’s empty.”

Usually? You swallowed hard. “You’ve been there before?” Surely he meant the day before, or earlier than that.

“This time of year, yes. Other times it’s pretty packed. I try to avoid it in the dead of the season.”

“Season.” You echoed. Clarity was coming, rapidly. He wasn’t talking about it as a season vacation package-goer. This was so much more.

“Mmhm. Travel season. When vacationers overrun this resort. It’s not too bad right now. But there are times..” He didn’t finish, chuckling. When he grew quiet you stared into his eyes. And he looked deeper into yours, stirring something that had your walls twitching.

“Sounds rough..” You managed.

You wanted to finish the rest of your drink but you were certain the glass would smash to the ground if you tried to pick it up right now. Instead, Namjoon pushed the glass further out of reach, following the bar top towards your hand. His fingers lightly rode the knuckles on the back of that hand.

“Y/n..” He was solemn as another breeze wrestled the shirt around his body. Your thinned lips refused to release any kind of affirmative sound—not that he needed it to continue. “..Have you ever been on a yacht?”

Your head shook.

“I want you to see mine. Come with me?”

You wanted more than that. You wanted Namjoon, just as you’d seen him earlier, except bathed in moonlight, naked under your gaze. If you could be guaranteed a chance at that….

Once again, he must have read the desire telegraphing in microexpressions across your face when he took your hand, fingers laced easily through. He tugged you closer, staring down his nose.

“Know you didn’t come here to see a boat, but trust me. It’ll be worth it.”

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

You’d managed a few indulgences in your time on this planet–the occasional spa day with your closest friend. A nice dinner with your parents. A birthday shopping spree at the best stores on the rich end of town.

Stepping foot on a yacht wasn’t quite on your list, but not for the reason you’d assumed. Where you lived wasn’t close enough to a beach or convenient to fly to without sinking a whole day in and out of airports and planes.

But this trip came with bonuses that checked the lux yacht experience off your list after inking it right at the top.

Stepping onto Namjoon’s yacht proved it was even BETTER from on board than it had appeared floating in the ocean and stone’s throw away. Even with just the moonlight painting the finely finished wood deck.

The surface was cool under your feet as you paused away from the ladder and slipped off your flats. You laid them next to Namjoon’s shoes, arranged neatly side by side, then followed him as he moved towards the beam, where the yacht seemed to be widest. You could spin around, arms wide and never hope to hit a single thing–in fact ALL of your closest friends could do that very same thing with that guarantee.

Namjoon had turned, watching your big eyes roaming with a measured smirk. Slowly his arms crossed at his chest.

“View better from up here, hmm?” The wind was stronger here, and a bit cooler, coming off the water and the rocking of the yacht wasn’t noticeable as you’d expected. It was more an imperceptible sway.

“It’s beautiful.” You marveled.

Eventually your attention found its way to Namjoon, the darkness around consuming the taller portions of the ship, disappearing into the shadows if you squinted up or in any direction too far.

Not that it mattered.

This man standing just in sight, chest expanded, and the wind teasing his shape through whipping fabric was the best, most breathtaking view of them all. You weren’t even sure you’d noticed any stars in the sky as you gazed at Namjoon’s beaming smile.

“When you saw me today….What was I doing?” A step brought Namjoon close again and you braced, leaning into the soft tilt you could feel in your senses as a wave rolled the giant yacht body a little.

“Just…standing here.” You replied, skimming back more hair as it spilled forward over your shoulder, dragged by the wind. You knew he was watching that action, his eyes roving in matching directions.

“Standing here?” He glanced down. “I don’t think it was here.”

You held back a giggle.

“Obviously not there.” You looked around, nodding towards the bow of the boat. “There… I think. It was hard to tell from down in the water but…I saw enough.”

“Did you?” He moved by you, but had your hand as he did, pulling you closer to the railing. You didn’t end up there, but you could see down into the water from the nose of the boat well enough. You had a sense of somewhere, in that dark ocean below, that he’d be lying to say he hadn’t seen you floating there–even as vast as the ocean was.

The water was too clear and calm earlier. And your bright pink snorkel set stuck out like a sore thumb, but you said nothing, combing back more hair on the other side, tucking it behind that ear.

Namjoon released your hand. His feather lite touch grazed your chin.

“I was standing near here.. Hmm?” You nodded, watching him do the same a little, fingers circling your chin. Pressure came as he squeezed softly, pulling the rounded shape up faintly. “..Just doing nothing?”

You managed another nod, grateful he didn’t let go.

“...What else did you see?”

“What do you mean?” You breathed. That building feeling that had nestled and filled up your pelvis became a massive, pulsing ache. There wasn’t a single, undisturbed nerve there.

“I think you can tell me.”

Whatever had compelled you to keep staring like earlier today, treading water, or across the bar during Namjoon’s approach, it was bigger than everything right now.

It kept you from breaking eye contact and prevented any lie from growing roots.

“..Nothing.” Your tongue swept your lips and the wind sucked the moisture away in a blink.

“..You weren’t wearing anything.”

Namjoon’s face relaxed as his brows shifted as he nibbled his lip longer this time. “And what did you think of that?”

It wasn’t like you’d never seen a man naked. In your life you’d seen PLENTY of them. All shapes and sizes, but none like Namjoon. None had hit you so directly in the center of your need.

“I liked it.”

“I liked being naked. It’s freeing.”

You squeaked. It meant something, but you didn’t have time to figure out what. Namjoon’s thumb pried your lower lip down as he leaned towards you. His lips opened just a little. Dizziness rushed to your head as you swooned towards his approach.

At the last minute he stopped, the touch of his lips a silky heat as he spoke into your parted lips.

“Did you like what you saw?”

“Yes.” You whined. “Your body is—”

“Mmnnn..” He dragged his lips across yours for a peck and pulled back just so, again. “Be naked with me? I think you’ll find it’s liberating here.”

“Here?” You blinked, feeling your lips sinking around his thumb as he fed the tip past your lips.

“Yes. Out here. On my yacht. On the deck. Under the stars. Are you here to enjoy yourself and do what you want? I am.”

You didn’t answer, lips still tight around his finger, until it popped free from your latch. You chased it a little until Namjoon seized your chin again and leveled his stare on you, nose to nose.

“Y/n..” His tone dropped a level, dragged across gravel. Serious, to match his unflinching gaze. “What did you want when you saw me naked?”

Where could you even start? You went with the first thing your brain and loins demanded in unison.

“I wanted to feel you.” Confession felt so good, the heat spilling up out of your mouth as you spoke. Namjoon leaned his front into you, letting you get a good sense of his body. And it was exactly as firm and muscled as it looked from that big, deep blue world below.

You went about as wet too, right at your seal. Your nipples perked and you moaned when his chest dragged your top across the newly woken points.

Namjoon cradled one hip, then gathered the hem of your shirt, guiding it up your side. The other hand did the same, bringing your top to your breasts, peeling it away. Along with the bra underneath, he dropped both to the deck.

Smiling, Namjoon pulled your hands to his hips and nodded. “Go ahead. Help me out?”

This was really happening.

All the questions and pondering that had been building all day long and simmering all night were now about to find a happy realization. Fruition, in the form of your fingers, under Namjoon’s shirt, pushing rough and fast. He did the rest at his shoulders, hauling the garment off. It went right to the ground, atop yours.

Without speaking, your fingers walked the waist of his bottoms, finding them just like his shirt: a lighter material and quickly off his body. He kicked them clear after you stood up. Without waiting, his hands guided your skirt down.

As the stretching waistband widened and rolled down your hips, Namjoon mouthed over your bare belly. You moaned, listening to the sound carried away by the salty breeze. It didn’t matter–what mattered was how good this felt.

The water lapped the hull as Namjoon’s lips pressed into your skin. He tugged a bit of skin below your navel, shuffling your panties down last. When his open mouth found your pussy, your thighs shook and you melted down against his face.

Namjoon was ready, jaw flexing as his hands caught your hips, lifting you enough. His tongue dove against your folds, spreading you with a few long, firm licks. From the way his moan rattled your mound, he was more than pleased with the taste.

The stars you barely made out winking in the sky overhead, faded again as your eyes rolled shut when Namjoon pulled your clit tight between his lips. And sucked, deep. Hard. Pulsing his lips with a suction that didn’t falter.

It went on for some time until you felt like everything was flowing down, out of you. Your senses finally came back enough to groan his name as fingers scraped his scalp. Twisted hair through your fingers, tugging him closer, then trying to pull him away.

Namjoon wrestled himself free with a dulcet sigh. “You taste…so good…” He swabbed your slick from his lips in a lick, then palmed your ass. “...Lay down for me, baby..”

The deck was exactly as smooth as it'd been under your soles, when back and ass met it. No sooner and Namjoon went to hands and knees, then stroked both palms down the insides of your thighs to guide them apart and settled between. One leg he draped along the inside of an arm, the other he pushed up and out, angling the knee to widen you.

Opening you at the very center, wind spilling over slick coated skin. It felt good, but that didn’t last long. The gnawing emptiness was back and your hips twisted as you whimpered. The very last thing on your mind was the devilish details.

Small things, like what Namjoon said next.

“Y/n…You okay with raw?”

I shouldn't. So why do I WANT to? Vacations were about being care free, but this was about as far from sensible as you'd ever been. ...And every fiber said you WANTED it. Right-wrong-whatever, let it sweep you up.

Your palm struck wood, then dragged with a squeal of damp skin and sting of friction. Breasts jerked and rose higher as you arched. Impatience went right down to the center of your soul.

“Yes..” You gasped. “..Just want you.. Please… fill me up.”

Namjoon’s gripped cock drew close and he swept the head right up your center, coating the blunt end. You wanted to wither at the way he moaned in surprise. It wasn’t long before he guided his tip right against your opening.

A palm thumped against the deck, bracing right next to your hitched knee. The other arm bent, keeping your other draped leg angled shamelessly high. Then Namjoon slid inside. It was relief at first, as you stretched around his shaft. Then it was sweet pain as he sank deeper, stretching you more.

Your ass wiggled when Namjoon pulled back. Pushed in, with a single, firm body roll. He slid back out, then plunged again, this time falling immediately into a steady pump. He had a stroke that said he knew what to do with himself.

And how to take care of the perky tightness that was developing the more he thrust. Your fingers started at his forearms, circling there, then nails touched skin, sinking in, then dragging higher with a low moan. Your body shook with the impact, then gyrated counter to Namjoon’s marching pace.

“You feel so…tight. God..” He snarled, snapping hips harder. Less gentle, his head went back. The stars were back, under your lids, and when they opened, the shining started on Namjoon's skin.

Underneath your bare ass and back, the deck was alive with sound–you shifting up inch by inch with the power packed into each forward driving motion. Namjoon was heading quickly towards pounding and it was opening a pit of pleasure under your belly. Your walls gave a massive clench and chills washed over you.

An orgasm was right there, about to hit you hard. Your cocked knee recoiled more, snapping in place over Namjoon’s hip. The other heel sank into his back. Both climbed higher as he grunted. Added force. Barreled into you–through you. Waves of pleasure built on top of each other inside you.

Another dizzying rush and you barely gasped out “That’s it…Namjoon—” before it all hit you at once. Struck you dumb in a full body convulsion. His instroke faltered as you seized around him, clinging so hard onto his biceps that he shuddered. It must have hurt, but you couldn’t be bothered to notice.

You couldn’t help anything you did,except let out a high pitched shriek of relief. However far that carried, it wouldn’t be a surprise if it reached the shore. You’d taken more than enough time at 7 knots, getting further and further offshore, rising and boring through inky waters, deep into the approaching night.

And it led to this: you, under Namjoon, his cock stabbing relentlessly into you as he went on after a short reprieve. Enough that he could pummel you again, taking his own turn. Your nails slid through moisture again.

Had to be more sweat developing faster than the wind could wick away, but that was fine. Your pussy was ultra wet, just tight enough he could get away with more force. More depth. And it sounded so good. You were helpless to do much but lay here. Taking it with eyes bleary and fixed on a far away point of light. A single, white point blinking in the distant horizon.

And you, rocking against the final thrusts. Rocking like the waves against the ship’s hull, giving away as it was meant to: You, wet and pliant, melting around Namjoon with his last plunge in, before he pulled out and brought himself upright, head thrown back. His shaft speared once more through five tightly circled fingers, then the spurt of cum splashed onto your belly.

Hitting higher, shot by shot until he created a decent, milky pool between your shivering breasts.

It was just like that moment you’d seen him on the bow–under the golden sun. A mirrored moment, but bathed in white of the moon’s delicate aura now. Head craned, lines in his neck strong, taut skin aglimmer again. And like earlier, it pulled you in entirely. You couldn’t look away, eyes barely open, adrift in the afterglow.

Namjoon had to be proud of the sight: sweat and his load, mixed on your chest and torso. He openly admired, then his shoulders dropped. Eventually he leaned over you. In spite of however much effort he’d just put out, Namjoon was still just as careful laying against you with his full body weight.

His weary smile wasn’t lacking any satisfaction. A dreaminess painted his moon washed features. You found it easy to get lost, admiring in silence as he gathered thoughts then spoke.

“...God.. you’re…” That was YOU, robbing an obviously well spoken man of the coherency he was accustomed to. Probably even KNOWN for in his daily and professional life. I did that. And fuck does it feel AMAZING. If the girls back home only knew…

Not that you’d ever tell.

“Mmmm..You…didn’t want to finish inside me?” Was that really pouting in your tone? Were you really too fucked out to question yourself or hide it?

Namjoon chuckled, looking down at your breasts, and further, getting a much closer look at the chaos he’d left behind. The verdict was in–he was quite impressed at the handiwork.

“You didn’t ask.” When he dragged fingertips through his fluids on your belly, then headed for your mound, your hips lifted. His hand pulled back just before he reached what you were offering all over again. “..Mnnnngg…Good aim and distance.”

“You’d cum inside me if I wanted?”

Namjoon looked at you again,from under lowered brows, wearing a questionable smirk. “I’d consider it. Not the brightest move if we’re strangers.”

“Neither is condomless sex. Or sex on a boat, in the open ocean air.”

“Sex on the beach is an option too, Y/n. The night is still young and I know a stretch of beach that’s empty for SURE this time.”

“God..” You began. Delight tightened everything inside. Although you’d just cum, the body was quickly recovering and the mind was more than willing to meet this man’s unflagging energy. “..Namjoon..” you gasped, turning your face when shyness caught up for a moment.

He wasn’t letting that feeling gain any traction,bringing his face close, angling for a kiss. Ultimately soft, exploring your mouth lightly with his tongue. When yours flirted past his lips, he sucked the tip and you squeezed around nothing, drowning in a moment of pure desire. The kiss was over all too soon, and Namjoon was sitting up onto his knees.

“Let’s go below deck. Clean up and change.” He’d already begun indiscriminately collecting clothing, pausing to dab away the more plentiful globs he’d left behind on your chest and belly.

“Does that mean we’re heading back to shore?”

Namjoon sighed. “..Eventually, we have to.”

He WAS right, but you didn’t want to just yet. Not tonight and maybe not until tomorrow afternoon. It was much different enjoying the ocean being out on, rather than splashing hundreds of feet offshore or laying out on a towel in the sand.

Namjoon detected the concern in a pinch between your brows. “What’s wrong?”

“Does ‘eventually’ mean…now?”

“Not if you don’t want it to. I don’t…Is that okay?”

Relief felt as cool as the night air racing across your thighs and breasts. The puddled fluid on your skin was rapidly becoming distracting for different reasons: a persistent reminder of the temperature falling around you as the night wore on.

“Yes.” You smiled as he took your hand and brought you to your feet. Even entirely naked, you suddenly didn’t care much. It was a nice surprise. In the past, nudity hadn’t been the easiest for you. A vacation from that hang up was a bonus.

Standing face to face, Namjoon watched you for a moment. And you gazed up, remembering the moment you saw his eyes, around the bartender. You hadn’t done much and it hadn’t been long, but you felt different enough to ensure you’d come back from this trip a changed person.

“Let’s get settled. Sleeping on a yacht in the ocean…It’s like a waterbed. Best sleep of your life..” There was no need to promise. Namjoon had already guaranteed it. From the pleasant and relaxing heaviness seeping through every limb, this would be the most refreshing night of sleep you’d had in a long time.

And when it came to vacations and resorts, this would lead the pack for a long time too.

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

You buckled the lap belt long before the flight leveled out and reclined back into your seat. It was routine. Everything, going off without a hitch. At the airport reasonably early. Breezing through security. And now, perfectly situated–magazine on your lap. Earplugs prepped for insertion. Carry on tucked under your seat. Your final step in the ‘routine’ was a look out the window.

Cruising altitude was a few minutes away, but peeking out the small window to your left, you could see it all easily enough.

The island. Large, pale squares of the resort’s most prominent buildings. Even the darker red clay tiles of the resort bar. Where your best night had begun. Better than the hikes. Better than the tours of the ancient landmarks.

And out there, at the shoreline, the thin white trail of the waves rushing at the shore line, then ebbing away as they slid back to where they’d come: the vast and endless ocean. You couldn’t make out figures on the beach anymore, from this high up.

And because of that, you knew looking for Namjoon was fruitless, until the moment you saw it: his ship there, anchored further down the shore, opposite from where you’d found him. A single, elongated white shape, alone on the blue.

For a moment a pang of sadness filled you dangerously to the top, bringing a brief heat to your eyes, but you blinked it away, smiling against the thick plastic of the window. You focused on his boat for a bit longer, then shut the window shade.

It was how you needed to leave things: the last sight should be what had made the most impact in your memory: Namjoon and his smile as he let your hand go first this morning. Early–just before the sun was fully out, sweatshirt shapeless on your form, eyes puffy from sleep but still struggling to drink him in so close.

And what he’d said–that he’d see you again... How did you know?

Show and prove came in the form of a text with a link. When you clicked it brought up a calendar with Namjoon’s name. There wasn't much detail beyond dates and locations--blocks of color hashing out days at a time.

Whoever Namjoon was here at the resort, beyond the boundaries and back in daily life, he was regimented. Private. Very secure. Protective of his time and much, much more.

Those walls were high but for a few hours he'd given you a peek over. This text brought them down again--something you had a feeling did not come easy or often.

He meant what he said. 'I'll see you again.'

Scrolling forward through his calendar, for a few months from now, you knew exactly when. Your mind was already doing the math farther ahead. Finding that perfect alignment.

All you had to do was pick a date and fly there. From here,and no matter how far apart you were, it was just a matter of time.

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