#wow writing is harder than just daydreaming | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cloudlessly-light · 11 months

Note

Hii it's Anon again!

Yessssss I loved that fic bc of Em being in foreign territory and who can deny Hotch's dom energy in CM fr! I absolutely love reading fics playing with that side of him 😍💞

I'd love if you wrote another one where the story is more detailed about how Em starts daydreaming at work, having fantasies after Hotch raises his voice against a suspect/roughs them up physically with ease or disciplines the team like when Reid was about to insult someone at the phone and Hotch just stopped him just calling his name LOL (tbf there are a lot of CM moments where fans are like 'wow I'd love him to grab me like that/talk to me like that' that could be fun to insert these moments 😂)

But yeah, mostly abt Em being confused at her body's reaction and realising it is a very slippery slope she's on, with (the team and) Hotch thinking Em is just distracted until he realises she squirms or disappears after he behaves a certain way verbally or physically etc...

Cherry on top if you figure out a way to conclude that with smut, I wouldn't personally know how to write Hotch confronting her abt it since I imagined that mostly from Em's pov 😂

Anyway, that's my idea of it, I'm happy to know that you like writing this dynamic and I will be happy with ANYTHING you will write about dom Hotch in the end so no pressure, I'm excited for any idea you will work on 😁🩷

A/N: Hi Anon! I hope this is somewhat what you had in mind, it got way longer than I initially thought lol.

Title: To give to you Summary: Emily had never imagined fantasizing about her boss, had always thought she was a top. But then she joins the BAU and meets Aaron Hotchner and everything changes. Word count: 4,7k Rating: Explicit Warnings: Smut, oral, overstimulation, dom Aaron (kinda, it got softer than I thought) bisexual Emily Prentiss, switch Emily Prentiss, sub Emily, mentions of stabbing, mentions of restraints and paddles

Emily had known that she was bisexual early in life, realized quickly that she clearly had a preference for women. For a long time she only dated women, women were kind, smart, gorgeous, stunning beings and she absolutely relished in taking them apart. She spent her late teens and early 20’s exploring her sexuality and preferences. It was easy to figure out that she loved to be in control, loved to bring her partner to their knees, no matter what gender that was.

But there was no doubt that if she were to chose between a man and a woman, she always preferred a woman. There was something about hearing the gentle moan of her name, of feeling soft skin under the palm of her hands. She loved bringing them pleasure and sometimes that pleasure came with a side of pain.

Then she starts working at the BAU, a dream she’d had since joining the FBI. It doesn’t take long for her to throw herself into work all the while ignoring the fact that she barely has time to do anything else. She proves herself fast, knows that she’s impressing the team without really trying as they find out small pieces of her past, and her skills.

It sucks that Aaron Hotchner is one of the last to notice.

Her boss was an enigma to her, quickly stirring up feelings she shouldn’t feel towards her boss. The first time it happened she had tried to ignore it, tried to pretend that the feeling she felt and the flush when he raised his voice towards and unsub was because the interrogation room was stifling. It wasn’t him, it couldn’t be him.

It’s harder to ignore the second time it happens. He was frustrated, the case going awry quickly and Emily watched him instill fear in the entire police precinct as they were working with one single word, voice raised to be heard over the chatter. The tension on his face and the darkness of his eyes was enough to make goosebumps rise on her arms.

And she crashes into the realization that it was, in fact, him.

Then a year had gone by and Emily finds herself daydreaming about him at the most inappropriate times. It’s not like she hasn’t tried to stop, she’s gone out and found both men and women to take home during her time at the BAU. She has relished the feeling of power as she wrought pleasure from strangers in the dark. But then she goes to work the next day and for reasons unbeknown to her she can’t stop thinking about him. She’s smart enough to know that it isn’t just physical, that she felt more for him but just want, but she always forced those thoughts away.

“Prentiss?” Aaron interrupts her train of thought as she sits by her desk, seemingly lost in her own world.

“Yeah?” She looks up at him and bites her lip for a moment. Her cheeks heated from his stare as she realized she was caught zoning out. “Sorry, what do you need?” They were working from Quantico, helping out on a local case.

“They’re bringing in a suspect, I want you in there with me for questioning.” He gives her another pointed look, like he’s seeing into her mind and she has to force herself not to fidget in her seat.

“Of course.” She offers a smile that she hopes comes off as confident and he walks back into his office. Get it together Emily.

She misses the way his eyes linger on her from his office window.

She really doesn’t understand why she reacts the way she does to him. She had been around people trying to control her her entire life, had always hated it. It shouldn’t be different with Aaron. But it is.

She thinks it’s because he’s in control in a way that’s effortless, that he demands respect because he knows he’s earned it. And most importantly, she trusts him in a way she doesn’t really trust anyone. She loves him.

But that doesn’t stop her confusion. It doesn’t stop her brain from fantasizing about how his large hands would feel pinning her down and taking her. She could stand in a room full of people and one look from him made heat flame in her veins. She didn’t understand it, she didn’t want to feel the things she did. But she couldn’t stop it.

“Where is she?!” Aaron’s voice was raised, his anger palpable as Emily sat across from the slime of a human they were currently trying to get a confession out of.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The unsub, a frail man, skittish in his behavior whimpered and Emily could feel distain as she looked at him.

It’s the slam of Aaron’s hand against the metal table that makes the unsub jump and Emily clench her legs together under the table that gets them their confession.

As the unsub is being led out in handcuffs Emily remains seated at the table, trying to control her body’s reaction as Aaron starts to pack up the pictures and papers to be sorted into boxes later.

“Are you alright?” He asks and her eyes snap to his, wide and dark and she swallows.

“I’m good.” She nodded and stands too. Her hands tremble as she starts to help him pack up, hoping that he doesn’t notice the way her pulse beats wildly, or the flush on her cheeks. But he’s Aaron and he notices everything. His hand is searing as he wraps it around her wrist and Emily has to force herself not to let out a soft moan as she wonders what it would feel like if he grabbed her throat like that.

“Prentiss?” His voice is smooth as he looked at her with something she’d only call concern and something else.

“I’m alright, I think I’m just a little tired today.” She mumbles and pulls her arm out of his grasp. “I’m good, Hotch.”

If he didn’t believe her, he didn’t say anything.

It’s been a few months since they interrogated that unsub, had been months since his hand had wrapped around her wrist but she could still feel it, like the palm of his hand had branded her. She’s having more trouble now, because he’s divorced and it’s one obstacle that kept her away from him that’s gone.

They’re in California working a case and it’s hot to the point of unbearable outside. It has caused even Aaron to remove his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and Emily has to keep herself from staring at the muscle of his arms, from reaching out to drag a nail over the dark hair covering them. When his fingers flex and the muscle jumps with the movement she has to look away, cause all she can think about is how that muscle would tense if he was hovering above her.

“I think the unsub focuses on prostitutes because that’s what available to him.” Spencer’s voice forces her to focus. She feels ashamed for fantasizing about Aaron when women were literally being stabbed in the streets.

“We could force him out of the shadows, try and taunt him? He’s clearly a narcissist.” Derek adds and Aaron who’s remained standing as the rest of them are gathered around a table nods.

“Let’s do it. We can do a press conference.” He decides and looks at Emily, their eyes meeting. “You should do it, a woman would provoke him. Force his hand.”

“Of course.” She nods and she sees JJ doing the same in her peripheral, already getting ready to set up for the press conference.

“Did you bring a dress?” Derek asks and Emily turns to him. She knew why he asked, knew that if she was dressed bordering on inappropriately on camera that the unsub would feel like he didn’t have a choice except to reach out to them.

“I’ll run out and buy one.”

So that’s how she finds herself wearing a black dress that’s just bordering on too much cleavage, the fabric just a little too tight, her jacket over her shoulders that she removes just before she gets up on the podium. It goes by in a blur, she answers questions, goes through the main points that they knew would trigger the unsub, makes eye contact with the camera and gives a flirty smile. She plays her role well and when they’re done Aaron is ushering her out of the room, his hand grazing her back.

“You did well.” He tells her quietly when they stop so she can put her jacket back on, feeling too exposed. When she looks up at him, he’s looking at her with something dark, something different and she offers him a smile.

“Not the first time I’ve done that, won’t be the last.” She shrugs and they walk again, heading to the conference room they’ve spent the majority of the week in.

“You were great!” Derek grins and she rolls her eyes. “If he saw it he’ll call in anytime now.”

Like clockwork, the phone goes off and Aaron nods for her to answer it.

“Supervisory special agent Emily Prentiss speaking.”

During the duration of the phone call she can feel Aaron behind her, eyes zeroed in on her. When the call ends she turns to him and she’s sure she can see the flicker of want in his eyes. But it is probably her own imagination. It had to be.

After California she starts to struggle even more. She couldn’t get that look on his face out of her mind, dreamt about it at night, hoped to see it during the day.

She still goes out, still takes great pleasure in finding a partner for the night to take them over the edge over and over again until all that they can do is plead her name. Emily loved control, that hadn’t changed. And then she comes to work and one of the first things that happen one morning is Spencer, arguing with Aaron about something she doesn’t really catch. She walks into the conference room with JJ just as Aaron raises his voice just slightly.

“Reid, that is enough!”

“But I-”

“Reid.”

It’s one word and Emily feels the dull ache of arousal instantly. The tone of voice firm and she almost stumbles back. She’s not sure what happens after that, excuses herself quickly and heads to the bathroom where she stays leaning over a sink and watches her own reflection.

He’s your boss. He’s off limits. You’re not supposed to feel like this. The team would never forgive you.

She tries to think of every reason why she needs to stay away from him. Rinses cold water on a paper towel to press against her heated skin. When she emerges back into the bullpen Aaron is watching her curiously, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“Emily?”

His voice is quiet as he stands behind her. He doesn’t touch her but she can feel the heat of his body behind her.

They’re out, a team dinner ending up in a busy bar. She was standing outside, had needed some air, had needed to get away from the group, needed to clear her head. Aaron had just told off a man at the bar as he tried to flirt with JJ and his posture alone intimidating enough for the man to scurry off, and she knew that she needed a moment alone. She hadn’t realized that he had followed her, still didn’t turn around at the sound of her name.

“Yes?” She stares straight ahead and his heavy hand falls to her shoulder, making her inhale sharply as he turns her to face him. He’s looking at her with those damn eyes, dark and alluring and she swallows. “What?” She finally asks after he’s remained quiet.

“What did I do this time?” The amused tone caused her eyebrows to knit together.

“What do you mean?” She thinks she should back away, should move enough for his hand to fall to his side. But she doesn’t.

“You don’t think that I’ve noticed?” His head falls slightly to the side as he smiles at her, a confident leer that makes her cheeks flush. He takes a small step closer to her.

“Noticed what?” She stays put, tries to exude the same confidence that he does but her body betrays her, so does her mind and she feels herself cowering slightly.

“You’re not dumb, don’t pretend to be.” His voice is firm as his hand moves from her shoulder to gently grasp her chin. When he angles her face up to look at him she lets out a shaky breath. “What did I do to make you run away and hide this time?”

She stares up at him, the tension thick between them as she tries to think of all the reasons why she should walk away. She racks her brain but it’s empty, empty on anything besides how much she wants him. How much she needs him.

“You scared off that drunk with two words and a look. I liked that.” She finally admits, almost two years of yearning coming down to this.

He hums, tone dripping of satisfaction as he moves even closer, turns her until her back is pressed against the cold concrete wall and he presses his body against hers.

“You like when I’m assertive, don’t you?”

“Yes.” She breathes quietly and something flashes across his face, something she wants to see again.

“And what are we going to do about that?”

She should have realized that he knew, that he’s probably known exactly what she’s been thinking and feeling from the start. The amusement on his face almost taunting, his smirk teasing.

“I don’t know.” She whispers and she feels her breath mixing with his as he leans down, lips so close to hers. “I’ve never felt like this before.”

“And what do you feel, Emily?” His hands move to her waist and hers lands to his upper arms, lost in him.

“Like you’d take me apart and make me lose the control I’ve always craved. And that I’d enjoy it.”

“Hmm…” His grin turns dark, his body presses harder against hers. “That’s right. You’ve done a good job hiding it. And I’ve done a damn good job to pretend that I don’t want the exact same thing.” His thigh pushes between hers and she gasps. “But I think I’m done pretending. Are you?”

“Yes.”

She ends up in his car as he drives them to his apartment. It’s quiet, so quiet as the tension between them gets thicker, her heart beating wildly in her chest.

“I’ve wondered what you taste like since you first showed up in my office.” He says out of nowhere, eyes on the road and his face close to indifferent. But she catches the way he’s holding the steering wheel a little tighter, the slight clenching of his jaw.

“Who says you will get to know that now?” She challenges and he turns to look at her as they stop at a red light. His hand is heavy, fingers gripping when he grasps her thigh.

“Because we both know that the moment I have you in my bed that you’re giving yourself completely to me.” He gives her a knowing stare then let’s go of her thigh only to grab the back of her neck. He doesn’t squeeze, just holds it there and she licks her suddenly dry lips. “Because we both know how good you want to be for me, Emily.”

She’s pretty sure her underwear is already ruined and he hadn’t even kissed her yet.

He doesn’t let go of her until she nods mutely, smiles when she draws a shaky breath as he starts to drive again.

The rest of the drive goes by in a haze and when Emily walks in ahead of him into his apartment she can barely focus on anything else but him behind her. The lock clicks into place and then he’s pressed against her, slowly pushing her hair to the side.

“I’m going to ruin you.” He whispers and she shivers. “Tell me, when you’ve had your little fantasies at work, what do you think about?” His lips are heated as he kisses gently along her neck, down her shoulder.

“I-I fuck,” She couldn’t think straight, her fingers flexing with the need to touch him, but his hand stayed firm on her hips, keeping her planted. “I thought about you in every way I shouldn’t.” She finally says and he snickers against her skin.

“That’s not really an answer.” He turns her suddenly, the only reason why she doesn’t fall is his hands holding on to her the moment they’re face to face. “But I’ll let it go, for now.”

“Hotch-”

“No, I’m Aaron, in here I’m Aaron.” He interrupts her and she smiles.

“Aaron,” She corrects herself and lets one hand move to gently cradle his neck. “kiss me.”

It’s softer than she imagined it to be, his lips careful as he tastes her for the first time. His touch turns gentle for a moment, warm fingers stroking under her top as his tongue licks over her bottom lip, until she opens her mouth to him. She’s barely aware that he’s moving her through the apartment until her back ends up pressed against a wall and they break apart, breath slightly labored as they look at each other.

He raises an eyebrow, a wordless question that she nods into and it’s like flipping a switch. He kisses her again, this time harder, hands gripping at her as he moves her towards his bedroom. Her clothes land in piles across the floor, her own hands tearing at his. Then he pushes her down onto the bed, grinning when something resembling a yelp leaves her.

“You’re so pretty.” His voice is darker than she’s ever heard it, his eyes close to wild as he looks at her like she’s pray and he’s starving. The bed dips as he climbs after her, rips her underwear off her hips leaving her completely naked.

“You ruined them.” She mutters between kisses and he pushes her back enough to undo the last few buttons on his shirt.

“Sweetheart, they were already ruined.” He throws his shirt away and hovers above her. “Do you really think I can’t smell how ready you are for me already?”

The flush on her skin only increases and she looks away in embarrassment but he’s quick to guide her face towards his again.

“Don’t look away, don’t you think I love knowing how much you like it, how much you want me.” His forehead falls against hers for a moment. “You’re going to come until you can’t remember your own name.” She knows it’s a promise.

He swallows down her whimper with another kiss, then moves down her body. She knows her skin will be littered by bruises and hickeys, his mouth hot and wet on her skin until he’s between her legs and licking through her. She falls back against the bed with a strangled moan and he quickly wraps his legs around her thighs, keeping her still.

The groan that rumbles in his chest vibrates against her as he dips his tongue inside of her, pushes it as deep as possible and she gasps. Her hand grips his hair and he pulls back from her with a raised eyebrow.

“None of that.” He takes her wrist in his hand and pins it to the bed. “Unless you need to be tied up.” His eyes glint and she releases a breathless chuckle.

“Maybe next time.” At the mentioning of this happening again he grins widely and nods.

“Good girl.” He lays back down and sucks her clit before she truly has chance to process the way her body responds to his words. It’s the first time she’s been called a good girl, and she feels her body throb with the need to hear it again.

Aaron makes her fall apart in no time at all, has her screaming her pleasure into her own hand to keep the neighbors from hearing and he doesn’t stop. His eyes flicker up to watch as her body trembles, keeps his arms tightly around her thighs as he licks over her clit with the flat of his tongue.

“Oh my God…” She gasps as he continues to eat her out like a man starving. Her hands grip his headboard to keep from gripping at him. He makes a sound against her, whispers filth against her clit until she’s straining and moaning.

She comes for the second time with his name on her lips, breathless and low as her hips buckles against his face. His tongue is sure as he laps through her, lips wrapped around her clit until she’s oversensitive and tries to get away from the stimulation.

“Do not fucking move.” He warns, and she cries out as she stops squirming. “I’m not done.” He licks through her one final time before moving up her body. When he’s hovering above her she sees his face wet from her and that same wild look in his eye. He pins her hands above her head and then pushes two fingers inside of her quickly, thrusting them inside as his palm press against her clit.

“Fuck, Aaron-”

“I said, I’m not done. So that means that you’re not done.” He cuts her off, the firm tone making her shiver. “You love it, you’re clenching my fingers just from the sound of my voice.” He leers and she clenches around his fingers making him snicker as she proves his point.

She doesn’t get to respond, even if she could have thought of some snide remark, his lips were on hers, forcing the taste of herself onto her tongue as he continued to curl his fingers and grind the palm of his hand against her clit. Emily had never been the type to be able have multiple orgasms, but it somehow doesn’t surprise her that he drags a third orgasm out of her in only minutes. She bites down on his shoulder as her body trembles under his, his low words of encouragements the only thing she could hear through the ringing in her ears.

He watches her the entire time, want reflected in his eyes as he waits a moment for her to relax before moving his fingers again. Her arms jerk but his grip only tightens.

“Again.” He grunts and she whines through harsh breaths, the pleasure making her mind hazy. His fingers press against her spot, massages it with precise movements as he kisses along her jaw and neck, swallows down her moans until she’s grinding into his hand again.

“That’s it.” He whispers as her pussy clamps down on his fingers. She comes with a desperate moan, hands fisting above her head as her back arches and her eyes shut tightly. He continues until her muscles start to relax and she slumps, body sweaty and chest heaving when she comes down and Aaron carefully withdraws his fingers. He kneels between her spread legs, eyes on hers as he licks her of his fingers with a low groan.

“You look even prettier than I imagined when you come.” He mutters as he works on getting his pants and boxers off. He catches the way her eyes zeroes in on his cock. His fist wraps around it, pumps it slowly and Emily licks her bottom lip. “You want it?”

“Please.” She gasps, the word out without her even realizing. His eyes flash as she unknowingly begs for him and he fists his shaft harder.

“Maybe next time.” He growls, mimicking her earlier words as he crawls over her body again. Her legs wrap around his hips and he doesn’t waste any more time before pushing inside of her with a smooth thrust.

“You’re huge.” She knows her nails are breaking the skin of his arms as she grips him. He keeps still, gives her a moment to adjust as he grunts his own pleasure into her neck.

“I know, you’re taking me so well.” He pulls back slowly and she moans lowly. “My good girl.” He nips at her neck, licks over her fluttering pulse and she whimpers.

“Please, please fuck me.” She mumbles and he responds to the breathless plea immediately. He starts to fuck her the way she’s been dreaming of, pushes against her hard enough for her body to jolt, fucks her like no one has ever done before and Emily can’t believe how much she loves it.

It’s hard and rough and she knows that his fingers are leaving bruises on the outside of her thigh as he grabs her leg, can hear his pleasure being muttered against her skin as his forehead leans on her shoulder.

“Come for me again.” He grunts when she starts to tighten around him, his tone smug as he looks down at her blissed out face.

She comes so hard she’s afraid she’ll pass out, her body tensing and the corners of her eyes blackening out. But Aaron is right there, guiding her through it, slowing his movements and whispering her name until her eyelids flutter open to look at him with hazy eyes.

“There’s my girl.” He smiles softly. “Do you need a break?”

“No, fuck no.” She presses a kiss to his lips. “I’m good, I’m so so good.” She chuckles and he grins then turns her body around and pulls her onto her hands and knees.

When he pushes inside of her it’s almost with enough force to push her forward, but he’s quick to grip her hair in his fist, pulling her back and making her back arch.

“Beg for me again.” He growls and she mewls.

“Please fuck me, please don’t stop.”

And he doesn’t, he makes her fall apart two more times, every muscle in her body aching as she falls flat on the bed and he’s quick to follow her. He bites down on the back of her shoulder, his hips stuttering as he gets close to his own release.

“Where?” He grunts and Emily whines loudly.

“Inside.” She hears his growl, feels his hips snapping against hers and then he’s coming.

“Fuck, Emily.” It’s barely a grunt, the sound of her name breathless as he gives in to his own pleasure, hips jerking against hers. He gives himself a few seconds to catch his breath and then rolls off her, body covered in sweat as he waits for the feeling to return in his extremities. He looks at her, sees the flush on her cheeks and how she’s still quivering slightly. “Are you okay?”

“I might not be able to use my legs for a few hours.” She quips and he laughs and then pulls her into him. He presses a kiss to her forehead and then her lips.

“So,” He starts and brushes some hair behind her ear. “was it what you imagined?”

“To be honest, you were kind of soft.” She laughs when he pinches her side warningly.

“Brat.” He mutters and she hums happily. “Just you wait, sweet girl. There’s a paddle with your name on it in the closet if you aren’t careful.”

She laughs again but the goosebumps on her arms are hard to ignore and she knows he sees them and only gives her a knowing look, but doesn’t say anything. The room goes quiet for a moment and the next time she speaks it’s a little more careful, her eyes flitting over his face as she bites on her bottom lip.

“Are we doing this? Really?”

“Emily I’ve wanted this for so long. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t sure about this, us.” He smiles softly and she feels something warm in her chest.

“I wouldn’t either.”

#hotchniss smut #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss smut #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotchniss #hotch x emily #hotchniss fanfic #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron x emily #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #dom aaron hotchner #sub emily prentiss

96 notes · View notes

zprites · 1 year

Text

March TMNT All 4-1!

Wow, this month's prompt was a lot harder to write this month for whatever reason. But alas, I prevailed and finally finished!

The prompt I chose was: “I’m new to all of this. Can you show me where to start?”. I did reword it a bit to fit the story more, and also sprinkled in some more Spring stuff for the season lol.

The lovely hosts: @turtle-babe83, @thelaundrybitch, @leosgirl82, and @post-apocalyptic-daydream

Also, I went orange this month because Mikey suddenly got me in a chokehold.

Bit of NSFW - As always, turtles are aged up!!!! Mikey and Reader are well into their 20s!

Rise! Mikey x Female Reader -- Enjoy!!

Taglist: @turtle-babe83, @manduse, @morning-sun-brah, @crazysarah-98, @pacoholin, @iamdefinitelytheratking

Flowering Like the Stars

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where, I love you directly without problems or pride: I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love, except in this form in which I am not, nor are you, so close that your hand upon my chest is mine, so close that your eyes close with my dreams. Pablo Neruda

"Achoo!"

"Bless you!"

"Thank you." You rubbed your nose as you called back to your friend, trying to shake the tickling sensation that had crept into your nostrils.

You barely had enough time to cover your mouth before another sneeze escaped, this one harsher than the last.

“You okay?”

“Yeah!” You sniffled dryly. “It’s just my damned hay fever…”

Knew leaving the window open last night was a bad idea. Oh well…

Mikey came over and handed you a glass of lemonade before he sat down on the couch beside you, taking a sip from his own glass. You thanked him for the beverage and took a generous drink. The perfect balance of tartness and sweetness hit your tongue and rolled across your palate before it slid down your throat.

Ah… Like liquid sunshine…

“Thank you again for coming over to help me.” You gently nudged his knee with your own as you spoke.

He gave you a large grin. “Of course! I’m always happy to help you, especially since I get to see your hair first!”

Always happy to help you… No matter how many times he said that, it still made your heart all aflutter. And you knew he meant it everytime.

Wanted some company to the art supply store? He was right there with you picking out new paints and always insisted on carrying everything up to your studio. Needed a plus one to the latest art exhibition? You never knew he could look more handsome, but the way he looked in that suit proved you so very wrong. One of Leo’s pranks causing a glitter bomb to explode in your living room? Not only did he help you clean up every speck of evil glitter dust, but he became your partner in crime, aiding you in your revenge prank that caused flour to go everywhere in the red-eared slider’s room.

And here he was now: helping you dye your hair again, this time a vibrant dark green.

“You’ll definitely look ready for Spring now!” He exclaimed, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Well, I do want to be at least one person’s spring awakening this year.” You shot him a wink, raising your glass to your lips once more. “Might as well look the part.”

As you took a drink you noticed a hint of pink on Mikey’s cheeks out of your periphery.

“You’ve been mine since I met you.” He mumbled before he busied himself with his own beverage.

You froze. He spoke so quietly that you were almost certain you misheard him.

But you didn’t.

This wasn't the first time that your best friend had said something that alluded to his deeper feelings for you, and each time you chose not to press further. It's not that you didn't reciprocate those feelings. You’d be the first to admit that whenever you got a text from Mikey you would feel giddy, replying back in an instant while grinning like an idiot. That you stared at him almost every time you hung out with the turtle brothers, Leo often giving you shit for it later on. Or that your mind always wandered to him when you pleasured yourself, his name on your lips as you circled your clit, wishing that those fingers were his own.

You were certain you loved him, however you were afraid - afraid to be hurt again like you had been in past relationships.

So you said nothing, just like now, the two of you falling into a tense yet restrained silence.

A silence that was killing Mikey.

As he drank his lemonade, the same recipe Todd taught him years ago, his mind wandered as he pointedly kept his gaze from you, hoping you didn’t hear his latest blunder.

Then again, he found himself making many slip ups as of late.

And he knew why, he was a turtle that was very intune with his emotions after all. He was certain he fell in love with you the moment he laid eyes on you, but for the past several years he kept those feelings to himself. Mikey knew that if he spoke up about his feelings there was a small possibility that you didn’t feel the same. So he told himself he was happy with the dynamic the two of you had now.

However most nights he longed for your presence beside him as he jerked himself off, your face filling his mind, your name playing like a reverent invocation on a loop.

“Up for a game of Smash until the timer goes off?” You asked just as he drank the last of his beverage.

Your words caught him off guard as he accidentally swallowed down the wrong pipe, causing him to go into a coughing fit to expel the offending liquid out of his lungs.

Way to keep your head out of the gutter there, Michael…

Mind Raph chastised him as he fought to get his breathing under control.

You gave him a concerned look as his coughing finally calmed down.

“Sorry.” He rasped, giving you a smile. “Sure, smashing sounds fun.”

You raised your eyebrows at him, a couple of seconds ticked by before he realized what he said.

“I MEAN- Yes, let’s smash! Ah, no! I- uh… You…” He continued to fumble over his words until he inhaled slowly. “Yes, playing Smash sounds fun.”

Amusement bubbled up inside of you while he died a little on the inside.

Unbeknownst to the other, the two of you shared an identical thought.

I’m so fucking screwed…

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

The timer went off just as your Meta Knight flew off the map from Mikey’s King Dedede combo move, signaling the end of the match. You groaned at your defeat and turned off the timer that was on your phone while Mikey muted the TV.

“C’mon, we can do a rematch after.” He offered with a grin.

The two of you made your way to your bathroom. You sat down against your bathtub and leaned your head over the edge. Mikey grabbed the detachable shower head and turned on the water, checking the temperature before beginning the process of rinsing out the dye out of your hair.

You became lost in the sensations; water rushing by your ears, Mikey humming as his fingers carded through your tresses.

Suddenly you were hit with the raw domesticity of the current moment.

Here he was, lathering up shampoo along your scalp like he did every other month, his movements gentle as he slowly worked out the knots while making sure most of the dye washed down the drain.

It made your heart ache. You wanted to say so much yet that nagging fear held you back, but with each touch you felt something else stir inside of you.

Resolve.

“There.” Mikey stated. He turned off the water and placed your shower head back in its holder before wringing out the excess from your hair. You sat up when he finished, taking the towel you laid out before he showed up and pressed your wet locks into the cloth.

I have to tell him…

You lowered the towel, setting it aside to deal with later. Once he saw you were done he offered a hand down to you which you took, allowing him to help you onto your feet.

However this time, you didn’t let go.

“Mikey…”

He raised a brow ridge in question as you settled on what you wanted to say.

“Earlier, I did hear you.”

The silence that followed was almost palpable. His expression was unreadable as you began rambling.

“And I know- No, I just… Ugh, let me start over.”

You sighed slowly as you mustered the last bit of courage that was beginning to fade away as his gaze stayed locked to yours, the midnight blue of his irises swimming with emotion.

“I like you.” You confessed. “Probably even love you.”

“Really?” His voice sounded so small, as if he was afraid you’d say ‘Sike!’ and shatter the hope that you instilled with your words.

Your lips upturned into a gentle smile. “Yeah, and I really want to kiss you right now…”

His breath hitched as you drew closer to him, face now inches from his own.

“I- I never…” He trailed off, uncertain on how to proceed.

“You feel the same, right?” You asked.

“Of course!” He declared. “I’ve loved you for years now. I just never… I’ve never been in a relationship before, so this is all new to me. I don’t even know where to start…”

Ah…

Your other hand rose to cup his cheek.

“I can show you, if you’ll let me.”

His eyes widened as he gave a small nod.

Time stood still for you two as you leaned in, your lips meeting his in a chaste kiss. His hand tightened around yours as he let out a soft moan, his other hand coming to settle on your hip.

He pulled away first, a large grin on his face as he rested his forehead against yours.

“I love you too.”

#tmnt all 4 1 challenge #rise mikey x reader #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt fanfiction #rise tmnt x reader #rise mikey

57 notes · View notes

hypnolurker · 1 year

Text

I Will Not Suck Dick in Class

ORIGINAL IMAGE FOUND HERE

This is totally not fair! That teacher, Mr Lambert, is just out to get me! Seriously. I mean, my grades have been dropping all year and I swear I’m working just as hard and studying and stuff. He’s just doing this to mess with me, the creep.

Last week we had a test, right, and I got an F! An F! I never got an F before! I’m sure I revised all the right stuff, in fact I swear most of my answers were definitely right. I think he just marked them wrong to make me look bad. I really don’t understand what he’s got against me.

My parents believed his shit though. The reports saying I’ve been misbehaving in class. Chewing gum, swearing, flirting and distracting the male students…it’s all bullshit! Still, my parents have been yelling at me and trying to keep me in my room. Plus they give me all these talks about saving myself and not being a slut. I’m fed up of it!

Then today in class he took it too far. He had me stay after classes and write on the board “I will not suck dick in class” ten times. I wasn’t doing anything! I’m not a slut who sucks guys dicks at school! That didn’t matter though, and I had to do it to avoid yet another detention for something I didn’t do. I went to the headteacher about this but he’s even creepier than the Mr lambert! He was licking his lips throughout the conversation. I think I should contact the police…

* * *

I…I called the police and they said that if he hadn’t touched me or made any kind of proposal they couldn’t really do anything. The school-board were useless as well. As far as they are concerned Mr Lambert is a model teacher who is just trying to control an unruly student…except he’s a fucking liar!

He’s manipulating everyone…especially me! Recently he has made me stay after school more and more, writing stuff on that board. I hate him. I don’t want to do anything he says, it’s all lies. I write stuff like “I will not masturbate in class” and “I will not have inappropriate fantasies about students or members of staff”.

Worst part is…it’s affecting me. I don’t know it’s just that…everyone is treating me differently. My parents, other teachers, other students…they’re all acting as if I’m some kind of slut. As if I’m less than a normal person…filthy…disgusting…it’s creeping me out.

Like, last night I was trying to get to sleep and the words I was writing on the board wouldn’t get out of my mind. My thoughts kept wandering…thinking about the stuff I was accused of doing. I was actually imagining it. It was actually….well…it was kind of…it was getting me hot! I don’t know how but I was getting wet. All of my thoughts kept coming back to Mr Lambert…his dick…

I think I need help. My head has been swimming for a while now and I’m starting…I’m starting to get…confused. It’s getting harder to tell what the truth is. His lies…I know they’re lies…at least I think I do. I tell myself they’re just lies but then I catch myself in class, daydreaming. Having thoughts which aren’t…appropriate. There were juices on my seat. It’s not…it’s not like I meant to…I’m trying to make sense of this stuff!

* * *

Oh wow, like, I was reading my diary from a few months ago and I sounded soooooo stupid! Like I was all paranoid and scared of nice old Mr L. I had these silly ideas that I was actually smart. I can’t believe I accused him of lying about me when he’s so nice and smart and sexy…

He was just trying to help me. I see now. I was behaving like a total slut. Sucking boys dicks in the middle of class while he was trying to teach. Dressing all sexy and making it hard for the other students to learn…hehe! ‘hard’. I was so dumb thinking I was a normal girl…turns out it was because of how horny I was. I’m so glad Mr L helped me understand my urges and how I could deal with them.

Now I’m much better behaved. Mr L has me come early to class so that he can satisfy my need for cock long enough that I don’t disrupt the lesson. He lets me blow him and pussy fuck him and sometimes I even need an assfuck to stop the urges.

Then after class he fucks me again because I’m such a horny slut and I can’t keep my legs closed. Then he even helps me with my work since I don’t really know what he’s talking about in class. I think I was giving a handjob to the cute boy with the glasses when they taught this…um…al-ju-bra or whatever. It’s soooooo boring and I can’t concentrate because I’m daydreaming about Mr L’s dick, so big and hot and…well I’m just a massive slut I guess and a horny bimbo who can’t think about anything other than cock. I’m so glad I have Mr L to look after me after my parents said they’re gonna kick me out for being such a whore.

#mindbrokensluts #story #not mine #Reconstruction

20 notes · View notes

pixxie999 · 1 year

Text

Lewd Scene #2: My Thirsty Daydream

Watching my Pre-Calculus teacher lecture a lesson in class, I sighed and frowned while the other students around me either fell asleep in class, drawing something on their papers or their assigned desks, or just paid attention to one of my math teacher's lectures. Okay, wow…this class is so, SO boooriiing-gah…I turned left at the window and saw all the physically attractive young women jogging around the track. Two teachers stood in the middle of the track to supervise those women.

"Mmmm…" I silently said to myself with my mouth closed. I laid my chin upon my palm and smiled at those young women. Now this is the thing I can get behind. My cheeks blushed and my eyes were nearly closed.

I imagined those braless women wearing tank top shirts, showing off their midriffs and under breasts. Mmmm…Their tits bounced up and down hard, as well as their nips poked through their shirts. They wore their super short shorts that exposed their buttocks.

Oh, yeah. Delicious! I mean, who doesn't wanna love that shit, right? Then I also imagined them drinking some water and spilled some water on purpose for them to land on their breasts, making their shirts see through.

I noticed their aroras finally appearing in all sorts of colors-usually pink and brown ones-and their nipples poked through harder than ever before. Then they poured water all over their chests for them to be wet. Oooo…hot damn, babes. I continued ogling at those young ladies until someone's voice shouted "Hey!" at me.

"H-Huh?!" I asked, turning to the young man with brown hair yelling at me. I noticed the paper in his hand. Oh, that must be my assignment. Dammit, I must've over daydreamed, didn't I?! I should've paid attention in class. "Thank you."

"Uh-huh," the young man answered as he returned to his assignment.

Then I returned my attention to the track and those women were back to their normal school gym uniforms. Their shirts covered their midriffs and they were wearing sports bras. I noticed their breasts did bounce but not as hard as I imagined them being braless. And their shorts covered their buttocks, although some of the women there wore their short shorts there.

I sighed and frowned for a bit, continuously watching the women reentered the school gym. Awwweee, man. Looks like the fun's all over and I was havin' a good daydream. Well, time to get back to that boring ass reality, huh?

"Uh, ahem!" The young woman behind me said impatiently.

"Huh?!" I immediately turned to her out of curiosity.

"The assignment."

I closed my eyes with a little sweat coming off of my forehead. "Oh, right! Sorry 'bout that! Ha-ha-ha!" As soon as I placed my assignment on my desk, I turned to the blue eyed young woman behind me and handed her the assignment. "Here, ya go!"

"Thanks," the young woman responded, grabbing onto her assignment.

"No prob."

But before I returned to my assignment, the young woman just gazed at my face. "Um, 'cuse me."

"Ah, huh?! What's up?"

The young woman placed her fingernail onto the right side of her chin. "You got something on your face."

I became confused. "Huh?!" Once I placed my hand on my chin's location, I felt some drool on it. My face blushed when I looked down at the drool in my palm hand. Oh, Jesus! How come I didn't even notice this shit, huh?!

I wiped the drool off of my face and wiped it on my pants. "Oh, thanks for the heads up, broh."

"Don't even mention it."

This scene was inspired from three scenes from an American movies released back in the late 1990s called But I'm a Cheerleader! and I loved every minute of those scenes. So what do you guys think? Do ya love it? Do ya hate it? Let me know in the comments either in Tumblr or Twitter. Otherwise, take care!

#writing #lewdscenes #proship #pro fiction #proshipping #profic #proship safe #proshipactivity #underagelewds

3 notes · View notes

war-on-mars · 2 years

Note

questions for fic writers: 10, 16, 30, 39, 49

10. How do you decide what to write?

It’s difficult every time! I have a ton of wips that I’d really love to finish soon, but I can never decide which one I want to work on. Usually it’s just whatever concept I fixate on the most intensely. Sometimes I’ll have a small inkling of an idea that I work into a fic over the course of a few months and sometimes I daydream while listening to a song and crank the fic out in a few hours. It purely depends on what i’m obsessing over at the time.

16. What’s an AU that you would love to read (or have read and loved)?

My favorite AU i’ve ever read has been this series by Calchexxis:

It’s a LightCannon Elden Ring AU and fuck if it isn’t one of the best things I’ve ever read. Calchexxis has a theme of reincarnation across all of their work and I’m just a sucker for it all.

30. Have you ever written something that was out of your comfort zone? If so, what was it, and how did it affect your approach to writing fic thereafter?

I try to write outside of my comfort zone as much as I can manage. The most recent thing I can think of is my most recent fic: “The universe said go play the game well.” This was one of those fics that I had an inkling of an idea for and couldn’t do anything else until I wrote it, but it just felt different than other stuff I’ve written and it was much harder for me than expected. I like to think it resulted in a growth of my skill, and because I had to write it so slowly due to how outside of my comfort zone it was, i’ve been writing everything else a little more slowly. I’ve started taking my time a little more. There’s more care in everything i’ve written since if that makes sense?

39. Is any aspect of your writing process inspired by other writers or people? If so, who?

Nearly all off my writing has at least some inspiration from other people. I’m inspired by talented writers around me, like my friends and teachers and stuff. And i’m also inspired by loads of other fic writers. It’s hard to dive super deeply into a fandom and not pick up some stuff from other writers. Sometimes I’m reading a fic and i’m just thinking “wow, I want to write like that.” I’m inspired by nearly everyone in the LiS community, honestly. One of the most talented group of people I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.

49. What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it!

I’m currently working on a ton of stuff because I can’t focus to save my life. I don’t even know which one I’d wanna share most. I’ve got a sequel to Tongues and Teeth in the works, an unnamed new Steph/Rachel thing, a vampire amberchase one shot, a new chapter of Big Girls Don’t Cry, a ambermarsh thing i’ve been trying to finish for months, and a ton more that i’m probably forgetting lmao.

Thanks for the ask!

#life is strange #ask game #fanfiction

2 notes · View notes

sassymajesty · 2 years

Note

Question, do you like writing one story more than other or it just depends on your mood? Tbh idk how you do it? I mean working on so many stories and being able to remember and create scenes for all of them wow just wow my respects

THANK YOU i realized while i was setting up my stories on a new writing software just how chaotic my writing process really is. i mean snippets everywhere, an outline that stopped four chapters ago, zero planning except for said snippets... like why do i enjoy making things so hard on myself

but to your question, i don't have favorite stories, but i do have scenes/chapters that i like writing more. sometimes i'll have to write time passing with no dialogue in one story and in other, a scene i've daydreamed for weeks on end and know the dialogue by heart. i do have a harder time writing the first one.

the one thing that keeps me organized and focused on one story at a time is patreon. i have a certain order i like to follow when i'm writing the next part in a story, usually a scene or about two thousand words. it goes southern au, oifan, eib, illicit affairs, extra scenes/stories then i start back again. it helps me shift into the world of another story once i finish an update (which usually takes me about 4-6 writing days to get done) and move to another

#I GOT CARRIED AWAY #i really need to get more organized when it comes to writing because oof this controlled chaos is getting out of control #waiting for scrivener to work its magic #anon #nina's mail #💌

2 notes · View notes

euphor1a · 2 years

Note

hello. just wanted to say that I love all your works.

funny story, your fic was actually the first ever fanfic that I read. it was a little over a year back, I was in a not-so-good headspace. and just searched up 'yeonjun fanfic' on google lmao just for the heck of it. tried wattpad, was scarred💀 twt was just not for me. and then tried tmblr and was greeted by one of your yeonjun drabbles. ngl, I was a little taken aback at the liberal use of the obscene words lmao. and then since I didn't know how to actually use tmblr, I just read all of your works. and I mean all. so the works that literally don't even exist anymore, I've read them too!

so I've been with your works way back when you were cupidchois. and my tmblr journey began with you so you're like the OG for me lol.

also, the not-so-good-headspace was due to this huge huge life changing entrance exam I had and your fics provided comfort. but when the exam date was too near, I stopped using tmblr for like 3 months.

but before going, I read whatever little part of bewitched you had written and remember thinking that okay when I come back after all this time, it might be a completed series. also, the release date for the yj sugarpapi fic was 14 feb but you said you needed more time. and I thought yeah I'm gonna be gone a long long time. it'll be there when I come back.

if only I knew lol. when I came back you had a brand new blog, half of your fics were missing, sugarpapi never came out, and get this, bewitched had actually gone BACKWARDS because you decided to rewrite it! lmfao, I'm not tryna sound rude or pushy at all. please dont take it the wrong way. the situation was just sooo funny.

so yeah, that's my history with your blog lol.

anywhoo, love your works a whole lot and thank you for introducing me to this hellsite without even knowing it<3

much love<3

... wow 😭😭😭, i’m genuinely struggling to find words to type here. Goodness. This is making me feel so many emotions like kdghfghfgh HOLD AWN 😭

!!! Thank you so much for sending this in, first of all?? This is like a peak moment™ of my tumblr life i’m not even kidding 😭!!! Especially because I kinda ended up joining tumblr in a very similar way, except that my OG was far more consistent than me with their blog and works 😅! Take me back to 2017 pls—

I’m pretty sure a lot of us here actually started out with just searching up fanfics on google and then finding tumblr in the search results. Because same! I did not know something like tumblr existed and my experience with wattpad was equally traumatising 😵; thank god for the hellsite. It sure is very annoying at times but it’s also nice that we can have our own little bubble here!

Lsjskdjkfj “liberal use of the obscene words” IM DYING 😭! Thank you for still reading them though 😭! A part of me is very embarrassed because I’ve... well, grown to find my old stuff very poorly written (hence all the rewriting) but a part of me is? Super fucking flattered? And proud? THANK YOU 🙈🙈

The fact that whatever the fuck I wrote actually provided comfort to a human being is enough for me to just go on and quit everything and live a life of a saint. It’s crazy... I never dared to imagine that my writing could actually do that? Because I always think that whatever I write is pretty forgettable tbh. Like you read it and move on and never think back. Anyway, I hope you are feeling better now, lovely 🥺! I’ve been in similar places throughout my life and damn I know how badly education related pressure fucks you up :(

Ah yes... Bewitched. Sigh. I have a love-hate relationship with that kid. I think I have mentioned this before in some random rant post, but god, rewriting is so hard. Because I spend most of the time regretting how I wrote it instead of the actual fixing and editing and rewriting. I won’t abandon it, but at this rate I’m not sure when I’ll be able to invest myself completely in rewriting either. It’s only harder because my daydreams have no ends and the amount of newer wips that I want to finish and post keeps increasing. And to top it off, there’s ✨real life✨, being an absolute pain in the ass constantly.

Also Sugarpapi 😭! It’s honestly me vs. the unrealistic high standards I’ve set for myself at this point. But you know what? I’ll take my time with it. Because I think taking it slow is better in all aspects. Like yeah, I could just half-ass it and put all the pressure in the world on myself to finish it sometime soon, but we all know that’ll be a mess itself, and will make me one too. It’s coming. I promise. Maybe in another year 💀

“If only I knew” — me at least twice a day skshksjk 😭;; it be like that 🙁! Apologies for the unexpected jump-scares you got from my whole new blog and all :'))

I will eventually repost the works people wanted to be reposted — surprise, almost all of my cupidchois’ masterlist actually ended up there after I rounded everything up (and almost nothing from my bts blog minus the reactions), so there’s that. And, I can’t even explain how much this ask actually means to me. Crazy stuff. Life changing.

Thank you so much!!! I’m sending you a parcel full of positive energy and my love, which is not enough but it’s the best I can do atm </3

#📬; aleyna’s mailbox #jealusty #🌸; my petals!#your username is 🤲🏼#god i actually took more than 30 minutes to write this what #i was just causally checking my notifications before bed and saw your ask #and it made me feel so elite like i felt so important 😆#wow.... thanks again!#i should probably go to sleep now tho kdhkdhk it’s 4:30 am yikes 😳#for safekeeping 💌

0 notes

daimere · 2 years

Text

Nanowrimo update

Here I am trying to write this update for the third time. Here we go! I don’t remember what my last update was about because a few days later, I got hit with the flu hard. At that point, I had written 17k words with no plot to be seen. Well, other than boy meets girl. Or monster meets girl. Or really girl meets monster. In the middle of the feverish haze, I was like, “wow, does this story suck? Should I be writing this? Maybe I just suck overall.” I still don’t know where else to take this novel. I have a few good scenes left. In my daydreaming, I haven’t came across a “aha moment” that will fuel the rest of this novel.

Side note: I have written an entire book with no main plot. I had the b and c plot because this was book 2 in a 4-5 book series. I have an idea what I actually wanted for the main plot. It would be Nice Guy (tm) gets rejected and joins up with Bad Woman to cause FMC to have The Struggles(tm) while dealing with plot b and c. I just didn’t know what to do to create all that stuff between the b/c plot.

Back to the Nanowrimo 2022: I really don’t know where to go from here. I really wanted to try to query this to someone that was specifically looking for a high heat monster romance under 75k.

Here’s the current WIP lineup with some ideas: Saved by the Pirate: I did write a bit on this one this week. They still haven’t boned. They are currently fighting over their feelings.

Hitting the Boss: Haven’t touched this one. I roughly edited it and then posted a new episode on Kindle vella for Monday.

Don’t go to Sleep: I need to edit and upload a new episode for tomorrow or Thursday. This one also was roughly edited last week while I had flu. Editing this one is harder because I am having to shift a lot of things. This is #nanowrimo 2010? story.

Hunting his Prey: This one I last wrote on a week ago. I think she may be filing a police report to another wolf as her mate finds her again. So ya know rage ensues.

Monster at the Haunt: I haven’t written more on this but I am not forgetting this story in case I get accepted into the monster anthology that I applied for. Fingers crossed!

Untitled Holiday Short story: Okay, I just thought of this a few days ago. I don’t have any holiday themed stories on vella. Since I was already thinking of doing a set of shorts to complete between bigger stories to make a bigger book in the end, this could go there. Idea is that a woman (supernatural or human, I am not sure) goes to a silly Halloween party in December party. She hooks up with a supernatural or monster of some kind. What monster? I don’t know! But falling in love ensues. Is this an awful idea?? I could probably do something with this in a week to start posting December 1st.

Monster under my bed: he just ate the guy. she told him to pay rent. And now I have to figure out what happens next.

The Alpha’s Demon: They also haven’t boned. I need to update inkitt/wattpad. I have gotten two reviews this week. I haven’t forgotten it. I just haven’t had a moment. And I am kind of lost. Like when will they bone? The sequel will be a why choose with Ruby. That will be a mmmff.

And I got my kindle vella bonus today and I was a bit disappointed. I was hoping for a little more than I got. I only made 4 dollars more than my first month. Then again, I didn’t get any crowns this month and I don’t know if I will ever get another crown. I don’t have a fandom yet.

#writingcommunity #nanowrimo #work in progress #kindle vella #kindle vella author #kindlevellaauthor #amwriting #amediting #monster romance #monster fuckers #inkittwriter #inkitt #wattpad

0 notes

missgeniality · 3 years

Text

Opaline Moon (m)

“The Moon can never breathe, but it can take our breath away with the beauty of its cold, arid orb.” - Munia Khan

➺ Banner: @hobiandsprite 💕

➺ Pairing: Seokjin x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Friends to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11.2k

➺ Summary: You are ingrained to love Jin, right upto the blood that courses through your veins. Confessing, however, is a whole other game. So it’s a good thing you’re bad at keeping your hands to yourself, because happenstance can handle the rest.

➺ Warnings: talks about dance floor fucking, making out in the bar bathroom, fingering, pussy slapping, passing out drunk, daydreams about thigh riding, reader masturbates, they make out A LOT, neck kissing, a hickey, nipple play, some biting, cum eating (kind of, you’ll see), blowjob, protected sex!, reader and jin are corny, the hurt is real but the sex is real-er

➺ Author’s Note: My lovely, lovely moots - @taegularities, @kithtaehyung and @baepsaetan, thank you so much for betaing this and hyping it up, your comments made this fic a hundred times better! As I mentioned on the teaser, this fic took a lot out of me, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing the angst and will write more whenever the story aligns! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing, and I hope this lovable Jin reaches your heart! (ngl, in usual fashion, I will come back and edit it again, so if you see a spelling mistake, your eyes are lying to you) Do let me know what you think, your asks and comments make my day!

This is the second part of my Dress Down series, find more at it’s masterlist!

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Sweltering heat. Blaring traffic. Little to no sleep. Through all things wrong, one man’s thoughts wrapped around you like a cooling breeze, a shield to protect you from the vicissitudes of reality, to draw you back into all of him. Unfortunately, your reality may never see that day come to light.

Kim Seokjin.

Kim Seokjin, the man who cooked you up a greasy break-up meal at three in the morning with not a sight of discomfort, putting your needs above all.

Kim Seokjin, whose puns make you roll your eyes heavenward, half awed at how he manages to pull one out of his collection at a moment's notice, and half irked by the untimely laugh it brings out of you.

Kim Seokjin, the man who will never be yours, and you have no one to blame but yourself.

One could argue that the miscommunication that had caused this present condition was two-way. If you had stopped him, corrected him, let him know the truth… you wouldn’t have to resort to the extreme measures you’re currently entangled in. One would also say, you are trying to redeem your mistake by trying too hard. Surely, everyone and their mothers could see through your ruse.

This is the fourth time you’re visiting Jin for his BE shoot - a shoot taking place two hours away from the city, disguised under various layers of secrecy to prevent any leakage of the album concept, or Jin in general. Of course, you had been made privy to such exclusive information, because you and Jin were ‘best friends’.

Best. Friends.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Best friends. The term you coined for (and forced upon) the bond you had. The bond that was too close to sprouting into something new, something fresh, something that was filled with glimmering allure and dragged you in like quicksand. But also, it reeked of commitment, of shadows, of newness that you hadn’t felt in the longest time, and fear of already being far too deep in without even taking the first step.

The loud thrum of some internet kid’s new hit pulses through the air of the club as bundles of couples occupy the dance floor, laughing and gyrating to a song that, in your opinion, most definitely does not suit gyrating. But with enough of the weekend happy hours intake combined with hormone-riddled minds, one could very well throw it back to a church choir.

You weave through the drunken bodies, trying not to spill the precariously held three drinks in your hands, making your way to your inner circle, the only people to blame for dragging you to this slosh-fest.

“Y/N!”

Somehow Hoseok’s voice can echo across the club, but you didn’t even need his addressal because Jin’s laughter is loud enough to navigate anyone to your table. Seeing you struggle with the glasses (and mostly the crowd, with some of them living their exhibitionist dreams), Hoseok gets up to assist you.

“I swear, if I see one more couple pretending to be dancing as they rub one off of each other’s thighs, the black market will have my eyes.”

“Oh yeah?” Jin’s breathy voice interjects your black-market dreams, still bursting in short laughs from whatever sent him rolling before your arrival. “Why don’t you go join them?”

“And whose thigh is she taking, yours?” Yeji snorts out, one hand holding her nebula blue drink, the other wrapped around Hoseok, urging him to come closer. Jin’s features scrunch into a cringe, and you’re thankful for the dim lighting because the disappointment in your features does not reach them.

“The only action these leather pants are getting is in the damned laundromat,” he points to his shiny trousers, “some jerk dropped his drink on it.”

“You could be the first person to give some chick an orgasm and a yeast infection.” Hoseok giddily adds, his fifth shot clearly making a mess of his brain cells.

Jin claps and gets up to move away from the group. “Better than a pregnancy!” he yells, before zigzagging through the crowd, possibly to the restroom. He is on his third cocktail, and you’d think cocktails are lighter drinks. But in this bar, their taps just seem to flow with tequila, and it is very evident in the way Jin is currently walking.

His absence hits you harder than you think, but it might be the alcohol talking. Jin has always been the mood-maker of the group, the one who brings everyone together. Of late though, his magnetic persona has been an irritant in your life. Any outing you two take, any chance you have to come clean about the burgeoning crush you have on him, is effectively disrupted by one of his posse. And today, Hoseok and Yeji took that trophy.

“Earth to Y/N. Has the cocktail finally broken you?”

You flutter your eyes in a manic fashion, to disperse the daydream you were indulging yourself in, and bring your attention back to the couple calling for you. Surprisingly, they have stood up, Yeji emptying the last of her neon drink.

“What happened?”

“We are going to the club nearby, they have better stuff. And that’s code for ‘they actually add water to the drink and the surround sound doesn’t shatter your ear drum’.’”

She isn’t wrong. The cocktails and music here are a 19-year-old frat party dream, not something the working class can digest. But you’re tired at this point, and don’t want to be smothered by someone else’s love life when your own is down the dumps.

“You guys carry on! I’ll tell Jin where you are and he’ll meet you there!”

You watch as Hoseok and Yeji lead each other to the exit, hands circling their partner’s waist. They giggle on and on, about nothing and everything, and it only hardens the emptiness you feel inside you.

Why can’t you gather the balls to spit your feelings out? What could possibly go wrong? Yes, you may lose one of your closest friends, but is this friendship really worth the agony? The bitterness you feel when you see any couple enjoying themselves? The anger you harbor whenever Jin tells you about his dates? The heartache, when he hugs you and tells you that you’re the best thing that’s happened to him… as a friend? Is it? Your plastered brain tells you to not make any rash decisions, so you don’t, instead choosing to get up and search for your best friend.

The corridor leading to the washrooms is dimly lit, throwing a merlot filter over your eyesight, making you squint in search of your friend. You being shitfaced does not help, and while relishing in your floating wooziness, you see Jin come out, and feelings you’ve held at bay for so long slither through your currently porous defenses.

He has always been good-looking. He himself has said so a dozen times.

But wow.

His hair lays messily atop his beautiful face, unkempt, like a breeze of beauty swept across his mighty looks and displaced every strand, causing disarray, but even the disarray only frames his superior looks and adds to its potent charm. The black, patchy sweater hanging loose off his broad shoulders makes you feel things you shouldn’t feel as a friend. That stupid gut of yours is currently screaming, yelling for all hands on deck, trying to block all the feelings from gushing in and sending you into overdrive.

By the time you can gather yourself to stop from giving in to those dangerous thoughts, Jin has crossed the distance between you, coming close, too close. Chocolate-brown eyes peer into your soul, searching for whichever fantasy you chose to lose yourself in. His eyes flit down to notice your rumpled dress that has found its way a couple of inches above its designated spot. His gaze returns to yours, but not without a newfound hardness, an almost steely glaze over the kindness that you usually find in the chocolate pools, accentuated under the garnet lighting.

“Hey, umm…” You beg for a reprieve, from your thoughts, from your filthy mind, from the way he is eyeing your cleavage, or just for the burning between your legs. You’re about to make some serious mistakes, you can feel it down to your bone.

You’re far too overdressed.

You knew it when you were in the process of getting dressed, but right now, you feel it much more - you look like a shiny disco ball orbiting amidst the plethora of loose tees, leggings and flannels. Everything screams comfort, because the amount of work they’re putting into this begs for it.

The strappy lace sundress you wear is extremely out of place, the halter-neck tie behind your neck fastened a little looser than necessary, giving your breasts the exposure they deserve, a nice valley view. Your dress skirt, adorned with pretty frills and dainty flowers, cut across your thigh to frame your petite hips. You are one floppy sun hat away from an extravagant Greek cruise - and in the moment you wish you had one to hide your face in shame.

You’re just out here, trying to escape the zone.

“Oh, would you look at the time, it’s tits out Tuesday already?”

Your eyes roll before Sanghoon even finishes his sentence, because you wouldn’t expect anything else from him. On the team of the set design, he is carrying a whole drapery worth of plush, mauve curtains, struggling with the slipping fabric. But apparently not struggling enough to stop him from getting his nose into your business, it seems.

“Literally not even a time you just mentioned. Can’t get one thing right.” You can’t stop yourself from stretching a hand out to feel the curtain fabric, the satiny sheets begging to be touched. Before you can though, Sanghoon moves away, not allowing you to shift the focus of the conversation.

“Don’t steer away from the facts. Your tits.”

“That’s the fact?”

“They’re out.” He bucks up, trying to point with the hand stuffed underneath all the cloth. “That’s the fact.”

“Ugh, can’t a girl dress up once in a while?” The pointed attention makes you uncomfortable, because everything he’s insinuating is true. With every passing staff member, you count a new shade of grey, interspersed with occasional blacks and greens, a stark contrast to your floral overtones. Amidst the thousand footsteps taken in your vicinity, only yours are pointed heels, echoing across the studio with every clack. But you’re a stubborn one, refusing to give in to his totally valid argument. “I just woke up early.”

“Girl.” Like light through frosted glass, he sees through your bullshit, but only partially. “You put an alarm to dress up? I have nightmares of the boss brandishing her whip and telling me to get into position, and even that doesn’t wake me up.”

“Have you ever considered… not announcing your kinks to everyone and their sisters?”

“Ehh,” he simply shrugs, “nothing is new when you’ve serenaded your boss drunk in a karaoke bar and still managed to keep your job. Wait. Is that highlighter?”

“Stop staring into my tits!” You can’t believe you got caught, but also, who can you blame? After testing this outfit out from the crack of dawn, you decided your cleavage needed some extra help. Three YouTube tutorials and one TikTok lady - who make it look far easier than it is - down, the contouring brought out the swell of your breasts, and against the light fabric of your dress, it does look too good to be true.

Memories of that night in the bar come in billows and waves, of how enamored Jin was with the way your boobs looked at that time. Even under the dingy lighting, in the cramped space, under heavily inebriated scrutiny, you couldn’t miss the flicker of heat in his gaze every time it passed your chest.

One thing led to another, and it was a cascade none of you could stop. The heat of attraction between you two does not help your wandering mind, and the fever drowns the knowledge that what you’re feeling is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, crossing some lines that can never be mended back again. With the proximity, his musky scent invades whatever defenses you were trying to patch, piercing through all your inhibitions and you pull him into you, claiming his lips to be yours.

With his wobbly knees and your wobbly heels, you somehow find your way to the washroom - mostly he does, you give in halfway to wrap your legs around his lean waist, his sturdy legs balancing your weight on them as your back hits the wall, and his lips tear down your walls.

“You look so fucking sexy today,” between bated breaths and indulgent sighs you confess, “just driving me nuts.” Letting your hands drag along his abdomen, feeling the ups and downs of his abs, you attempt to rid him of the sweater that’s been on your hit list all night. But to your dismay, your endeavor is blocked, when Jin gathers your wrists in his palm, turning you around to bend you over on the countertop, the smooth marble chill hitting your braless chest, perking your nipples under the cold.

“And you?” Jin bends to give your earlobe a languid lick, progressing very slow, a complete contrast to the movement of his hips as he ruts against your ass, your already short dress bunching up with every move. “You think it’s smart to have your tits torment me like this?” Grabbing a handful from behind, he tests the weight of each fleshy mound, and by now you are certain your perked nubs can pierce his palm.

His free hand, not yet torturing you, decides to get in on the action and disappears under the counter, swiftly crossing the bunched fabric of your dress, gaining easy access to your pussy. The cold touch of his pads sears against the heat of your core, finding your pleasure button and languidly fiddling with it, with no intention to cross you over the brink in sight. The only pleasure you can indulge in is the reflection of him abusing your nipples, pinching and tugging them down, whispering filthy words into your ear as he takes in your fucked out countenance.

You feel lacking, weak hands balancing your dizzy self, finding purchase to keep you upright - but you’re both drunk on alcohol and hypnotized by his beauty to do much more than stare at his mirrored counterpart. “For fuck’s sake, kiss me.”

How he understood your slurred words, you don’t know, but you are glad he did. In a moment you’ve been displaced, the hurried motion sending your neurons into a flurry. Once your back meets the hard marble, and your eyes have the privilege to see his, you pull him in closer, the force enough to hold you against the wall while your legs wrap around his lean waist.

Originally not a fan of drunken misadventures, that side of yours is strangely mute to the going current onslaught. Well, you don’t have much breath left to say anything, because Jin is efficiently stealing it all, his teeth clashing with yours as you engage in the messiest kiss ever known to mankind (or at least, to you). He changes pace often, dragging his tongue leisurely against your lower lip, conveying tacit words, just to switch it up with a sharp bite and reel you in.

One corner of your senses can feel his fingers messing around your cunt, and playing with the wetness your thong can barely contain. It makes you shudder, the damage that his fingers can cause solely circling around your hole.

“Fuck me.”

In your drunken stupor, you don’t know if the words leave you right, but you get confirmation when his long fingers finally penetrate your cunt, giving your walls something to clench on - although nothing could possibly compare to what you imagine you can get from his dick.

“God, you feel that grip,” he grunts, with two of his fingers in you, and Jin’s smile is the most sinister you’ve ever seen. “I think we should take this home,” is what his lips utter, but his fingers delve deeper, searching for the spot that crumbles you. The base of his palm grinds against your throbbing clit, and you are forced to bite down on this sweater, lest an embarrassingly loud moan escapes you and cues outsiders into your filthy doings.

“Now,” you half-hiss, half-growl as you grab the cusp of his legs to feel his half-hard erection grow under the pressure of your hand. Your palm sliters up just to go down again, this time without the blockade of his pants, but you are stopped short of success when Jin’s fingers slip out of you to give you a sharp swat.

“Stubborn, aren’t we? Can’t fucking wait,” he whispers into your ear, and as he envelops your lobe with his cushiony lips, he continues, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

No, no, no.

Your brain rejects logic, chews and spits it out before any of the rationale seeps into you. You have wanted this for far too long. The need inside you for a meaningful relationship materializes in the form of recklessness, desperately looking for surface-level relief for the moment. A night of sewing sutures to your battle-worn heart, stitches that may come off at the slightest strain - but right now, that will do.

“Please, Jin,” your tantalizing tone riles up his cock again, eagerly waiting for your next words, “can’t you feel me dripping? Come on, I can take you.”

“Fuck, hear that wetness.” He lets his palm slap against your sopping entrance, not stopping with one. With every slap, droplets of your arousal splash out, the insides of your thighs coated in the sticky sweetness, but your body is an endless reservoir producing plentiful more for Jin to play with. “Have you been sitting with this all this time?”

Two long fingers invade your channel again, leaving you with no response other than a gasp. They scissor incessantly, preparing you for what could be the railing of your lifetime. One curl inside and his fingertips hit the spot he was looking for, making you warp your body to take the pleasure coursing through your veins. His tongue seems to mimic the actions, looping around your earlobe as he sucks it inside, both ends of your body engulfed in all the attention he could provide.

Your cunt is weeping against the assault of this man’s hands, tears of your cum flowing down your legs with every pump of his arm. You are getting there, the sweet swell of release inching closer and closer.

But something doesn’t feel right.

The tightness in your belly, that is to a point caused by Jin, is harboring other sensations that are not entirely pleasant. Maybe you’re anxious about the happenings. Maybe you haven’t had a good orgasm in a while and have just forgotten how this thing works.

Or maybe, the bar should have the water tap actually give out water.

Either your eyes close, or your brain does, but suddenly all you can see is darkness.

Again, you are just trying to escape the zone.

“Step under those studio lights,” pointing at the too-bright stage lights being set up at the moment, Sanghoon continues, breaking your daydream, “I bet you could signal to aliens with the booby-reflection. Call them to Netflix and chill.”

“In about five seconds, my heel will be puncturing your eye. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

Sanghoon’s drivel was cut short, and so were your murder plans, with his entry. “Oh look, he’s on set. Gotta go!”

It’s like the lights, earlier threatening to burn away your skin, dim down in reverence of the glow of his face. The twinkle of his eyes when they meet yours. The shine of his smile when he throws you one. The vibrance of his tone when he calls out your name. Everything he does now threatens to burn you whole and it’s a wonder you’re not scalding, but the singe hurts you deep inside.

“Y/N! How do I look?” It’s a bathrobe. Like satin, or silk. Fucking hell, your brain could explode with the adjectives coming up, a whole chunk of them very much inappropriate to utter out in the current scene. Your arms want to rise, engulf him into you, and you have to physically halt the muscles from doing anything stupid. Brain, quick! Say something snarky and spicy, as best friends do!

“What’s the theme, unicorn puke?” The safest way to deflect is to attack. So you do just that. “You look like you dressed out of Hannah Montana’s closet. Which if it's true, I really need to see it. There’s a top that I’ve been eyeing for decades!”

“Don’t say decades.” Jin’s eyes crinkle in humor. “Makes me feel so old. Your dress is pretty cool too!”

Cool.

You find out how difficult life can be when you count every single minute of yours. So far, you have counted 4,310 minutes. That is two days, twenty-three hours, and fifty minutes. Ten more minutes and it will be three whole days since you and Jin spoke.

Yet again, you can’t blame him. When you came to the next day, you were in your bed, clad in the same shimmering silver bodycon that you had donned last night. The same one that had been privy to the colorful deeds you had committed in what was a dreary, colorless setting.

One ibuProfen and ginger ale, downed with some severe recollections of the previous night, and you had been ready to throw it all up again.

I don’t want to hurt you.

Words couldn’t describe what you were going through, and numbers weren’t invented to count the endless thoughts racing in your brain. You don’t know what is more upsetting. The fact that you actually had a chance to open your heart and you totally let your pussy think instead? Or that he was the one coherent enough to stop you from getting too far, and you let your desperation get the best of you? Everything about that night was wrong. And all the wrongs lie on your side.

I don’t want to hurt you.

In the moment, it was physical, he had to have meant that. But there was a tremor in his voice, you can remember clear as day, a slightly shaken side of him had emerged through the intoxication, and the words he had breathed were not shallow. There was a gravity to them, that you’d stupidly ignored in the heat of the moment.

And now, here you are. Counting up till the last minute, after which you can effectively call the friendship ruined. Stirring your tea mindlessly, you try to focus on the show on TV, the variety show comedy not striking the usual funny bones that they could 4,311 minutes ago.

The programmed ding of your phone bursts your thought bubble, a sound you have missed the past 72 hours. The ring you dedicated to Jin, that always had you running to receive because anything he sends brightens your day. But unlike those happier times, this ring has your gut fall into a pit of despair, struggling to choose between dispersing the suspense or remaining blissfully unaware of the damage you caused.

Jin: Free tmrw? We could grab coffee Jin: And talk

Talk. How? You barely remember what went down, save for fleeting moments that you recollected with great difficulty. Your fingers type back, trying to mimic the nonchalance in his text, that is very much absent in your actual demeanor.

Y/N: Sure. Paik’s at 1? Jin: Yup. See ya

Three texts, zero laughs. Of course, you’re not expecting him to land his jokes in this situation, even someone as talented as he can’t flip this tension. You’re just going to have to wait for tomorrow, when he decides whether you have a place in his life or not.

The painstakingly worn outfit, accessorizing the whole look, the straps of your heels digging into your toes, the specks of makeup dust lying stale on your collar bones, the shine faints at that word. Cool. A perfectly normal phrase for a normal friendship. You are left maimed, while he absent-mindedly tends to the rope of his robe, blissfully unaware of the cyclonic emotions churning inside you. All you can possibly do is gulp it down.

He runs his hands through his hair, beautiful locks coming out of place, and from one corner of the set, a groan of anguish emerges.

“Oppa! Don’t play with your hair and face.” A masked lady runs forward waving combs that look like artillery, “We just got done setting it!”

Some finger guns, a happy apology, and some silly jokes later, all the stylists merrily round up to undo his doing, and Jin signals to you to catch up later. And as he walks away, the strings tugging at your heart reappear, as they do every time you come to meet him.

You have a masochistic streak in you, putting yourself through this every day, when he had made it clear, that you two never stood a chance.

As if things aren’t already difficult, he looks like a dream.

Soft, snowy skin gleaming like it has personal lighting wherever it goes, you get flashes of the rarely witnessed sweat on his skin, from the ferocity of last night. He’s blowing away the foam of his cappuccino, and tiny bubbles float into the air before falling flat on the table, like an animated shine that follows him along. God has His favorites, and God makes sure all the lighting in the world is perfect for these favorites.

In no hurry, you wait at the counter to get your latte. After receiving it though, you can’t linger any longer and drag yourself to the table of doom.

“Hey.”

If the rasp in your voice is evident, he doesn’t show any recognition on his face. But you’ve learned to never trust an acting major.

“Hi. How are you doing?”

Inadvertently, a snicker escapes your lips. “Are you interviewing me for a job?” you joke, trying to disperse the heavy air, filled with unspoken words. “If so, at least know that I’m very expensive.”

The familiar windshield wiper laugh does not greet you. Dead silence does. The half-smirk he painfully gives you is heavy, and the furrowed brows haven’t an inkling of joy. It shoots daggers in your heart, to know that you are the reason for this jolly man’s despondency.

“Listen, I don’t think we should skirt around the issue too much. It happened, these things happen. You think Hoseok and Yeji didn’t have sex before making it official?”

His matter-of-fact nature isn’t new to you. Jin has always been a very practical man. Regardless of his inane sense of humor, his logical point of view has always been flawless.

But right now, at this very moment, logic isn’t what you are looking for. You are looking for answers, but as far withdrawn from logic as possible, to take the edge off of the tension-laden air that surrounds your table.

“Yeah, but even… unofficially… we aren’t a thing, right?”

Your abrupt question takes Jin unaware, almond eyes widening, like a toddler caught in an act.

“No, no! Of course not! I would never!”

His confession slips out with an ease that hurts you, digs deep to carve out the part of you that dreamt of anything more. Your eyes fall to your knees to avoid his perceptive gaze, the sting clear as the sky on a summer day.

You force a smile and continue. “Then there’s no issue. Anyway,” you gulp your coffee down, burning your throat, but it's a distraction from the burning inside, “I need to get to work. Anything else?”

He’s still searching you, for what, you can’t possibly fathom. From the looks of it, he should be happy with this homeostasis; he doesn’t even know what this means for you. To still stay suspended in limbo, not being able to move up or down, to continue having thorns digging into your beating soul as you watch him like nothing bothers your already frail feelings. Scene by scene, you can visualize the future, him distancing himself from you as he finds the one he calls his, with you left in the shadows. Your knees tremble in fear of the impending future.

Seeing you in a tizzy, he calls out, the voice too loud for the cafe and your mind’s prison cage.

“We’re still best friends, right?” If you knew better, you’d say his expression is that of sadness, of regret. But your judgment is clouded with your own bothers, and you interpret it as a look of pity. Like a lovesick puppy, kicked to the streets, with nowhere to call home.

“Yeah! Always.” You give it as much enthusiasm as you can muster.

Best friends.

Ropes wind around your heart, tugging and causing the deep ache that sets in as you walk back into your dreary building. Each string pulls you into a different dimension where you could move on, where you could be okay with the setting you had just agreed to. Where you would keep up your end of the promise and truly remain friends with him.

But no matter how strong the tug, your heart never yields, never lets go of the castle of dreams you built, staying steadfast in its own misery, choosing to hope, choosing to live the life of unrequited love.

“And that’s a wrap! Good job everyone!”

Applause and hurrays echo across the set to bring you back to the present. The shoot has officially concluded, which means it's time for your most favorite and least favorite part of the day - Jin and you doing best friend things, like grabbing lunch, gossiping about obnoxious coworkers, threatening to disembowel each other (in Mortal Kombat, of course) and other friendly activities.

Ever so respectful, Jin takes his time thanking every member of the set, regardless of whether they moved a cushion or held the reflector screen for hours. All the women gush over his beauty, reminding him of how, even amidst the glowing ornaments, his face was the brightest. His responses vary, from quiet little giggles, to complimenting the crew for making it happen, to straight up owning his charisma like a boss. That’s your man.

Well, not quite. Not one bit.

After exhausting the handshakes and hugs to be received, Jin walks to you, hands pushing his robe back to give it a cape like effect. You’re just glad that the man’s child persona still stays with him, no matter the situation. He guides you to his green room, cracking his bones on the way, (very sexily, might you add).

“Holding a pose for that long gives me cramps! You’d think dancing breaks my back, and you’d be wrong.”

You’re desperately avoiding looking at his fingers, and keep your eyes below them - shoot! His ceaseless stretching gives you a glimpse under his shirt - it is dragging your memories back to the last time you saw them, and you’d rather not. It is hurting you in more ways than one.

Eye contact is your safest bet. Looking up, you give him a lopsided grin. “Your grandfatherly days are approaching, Jinnie.”

“Hey!”

The rest of the conversation was less speaking, more yelling and chasing after each other to the green room, Jin taking mock-offence at your jab at his age, and his fingers reaching out to flick your forehead in retort. In your noisy, messy fashion, you both finally enter the room, dim gold light bulbs and shiny mirrors meeting your huffing self.

One hand on your knee, you hold on to Jin’s arm with your other, gasping for breath.

“Your grandmotherly days are already here, Y/N,” he snorts, and earns a kick on the shin, but that doesn’t stop him from bursting into snickers.

“Wow, why does one man need 4 mirrors?” You gape at his current green room, mouth wide open. It looks better than your entire apartment, with the counter carrying top-of-the-line makeup products. Only the best for this man. “So you can admire yourself from 4 different angles?”

Jin has disappeared into one of the inner rooms, but you can hear him snort at your comment. “Come on, I’m not that conceited. When the whole crew shoots together, the extra mirrors help.” The last part of that sentence is muffled, and that cues you into an important fact.

Jin is currently changing into something more comfortable.

A process that includes him getting naked.

Well maybe he doesn’t get fully naked, top on, top off, bottom on, bottom of-

Still. You’re sweating like a whore in church.

And things only get tougher when he finally comes out.

The ocean blue sweater he dons is tucked in. Who tucks in sweaters? Kim Seokjin. Why does he tuck sweaters? Oh, because he’s got an amazing waistline that he should most definitely show off, and the heat between your thighs becoming increasingly potent is a testament to that. You pretend to adjust your heels, giving the right expressions to show you’re in pain, but in actuality you are bringing your legs closer to get you some relief, just any relief.

Ripped jeans too. You get a peek of the thighs you were denied access to the night of the fuckening. Ridged and beautiful, not a speck in sight to mar his perfection. You are glad the facial expressions for pain and pleasure are not far apart, because your thighs, albeit very lacking, are helping the imagery in your head. Just Jin, seated on one of these leather chairs, and you straddling his thigh, clit aching against the strands of the rips in his denim, the fabric soaking up the wetness, with every push forwa-

“Now that you mention it, I do look dashing.”

And there goes that dream.

You pinch his cheeks in adoration, the vulgarity of your thoughts getting whitewashed by his silliness and blooming heart-shaped flowers in their stance. You feel your own pinch in you, wondering if this scene would be the same had you blurted your feelings out that day at the cafe.

It's times like these when you remind yourself why you choose to quieten that side. This dynamic cannot reincarnate in any other form. Any imbalance to this equilibrium could cause a serious case of best-friends-turn-awkward-acquaintances, and you don’t know if that’ll hurt you more than you currently do. You don’t plan on finding out.

But on God, he tests that resolution every single day.

Jin doesn’t even hint that he knows of the turmoil blasting behind your eyes. He nonchalantly fixes his hair, gives you a one-over as you are mentally undressing him, nonchalantly as well. Then he moves to grab his cologne, and two spurts disintegrates all the whitewashing and takes you back into the obscenities you were unfolding.

“So I’ll just go over the shoot photos, and then we can leave! You’re cool waiting here?”

“Hmmn, yeah!” You don’t let your mouth run any longer, fearing what might slip out.

He gives you a wide, innocent smile. “Great! See you in a bit.” Poor guy. If only he knew how debase plans you were conjuring just from the aroma of his cologne.

It is musky, like cedar or pine, perfectly suiting him. It is the same scent you remember inhaling, face stuffed in his sweater when he was fingering you to the tenth circle of hell. As he walks away, the fragrance diminishes, save for the slightest hint of lingering. You search for the source, and find the culprit strewn across the sofa.

The outfit Jin wore for the shoot held remnants of the perfume, and when you bring the shirt close and take a long, deep whiff, you transport yourself to the land of your dreams. You relish the fever smell of his cologne, mixed with his own natural scent, deciding that this is what you wish to smell like every waking morning.

Your longing for him has crossed way beyond physical boundaries. You longed for his love, longed for his attention. Longed to be the one that brings the light to his face. From morning rays to the darkness of the night, you wanted to experience it all by his side. To be his lone star, shining bright beside the moon.

Your hands are moving without your control, disrobing you of your thirst trap of a dress and putting on Jin’s shirt instead. One look at the mirror and you let out a silent groan - it fits you just right. Just enough to cover your ass cheeks, loose enough to let the air conditioning hit your heated pussy. While well-fitting shirts have never been the cornerstone of a successful relationship, your delusional mind takes whatever wins it gets.

Adding layers to your pipe dream, you don the robe that gave you a tough time throughout the shoot. When you press the tails of the robe to your cheek, the softness of the material is soothing. Soft, like Jin’s eyes, like his hugs, like his smile. Like him.

Leaning against the counter, you steady yourself, mind split in titillation. Your fingers find their own path, drawing circles on your breasts over his shirt, imagining Jin’s long fingers in place. While teasing your nipple to pointed peaks, you slip your other hand under your panties, trying very hard to mimic his digits, twiddling your clit between your fingers. Alas, the effect isn’t achievable, because Jin seems to know how to play you better than yourself.

The scent is getting stronger, without any provoking, and it is doing wonders for your immersion. You let out a loud moan when your fingers press inside, and you’re just glad no one can witness this.

“Y-Y/N?”

Fuck.

You are pulled away from your dreamland that was so impenetrable that you didn’t hear Jin step into the room. All the blood gushing to your nether regions has made a U-turn to flood your brain to think of a plausible explanation for this position. Instead it makes you giddy, and when you try to stand you wobble in your heels, to be rescued by what you think is a very scandalized Jin.

Time stands still when your eyes meet, and what you see are blown out pupils trembling, many questions fluttering between you two. Jin crosses a tenth of the distance between you, lips flutter as they try to make a decision - do they want to part and give way to the voice of question? The voice of reason? The voice that will break this hush, burst this bubble where he has the one chance to give in to his longing?

You bring your lips closer, and cause immense disquiet in his dome, the way of his heart gathering speed against rationale. Your eyes dance between matching his gaze and finding his lips, every fraction of an inch you cross sending tremors through you. You can feel the shockwaves traverse through your body, making a pitstop at your lips, tingling them awake. They move downwards, passing your heart, beating it wildly against its cage, and then to the pit of your stomach to tighten in anticipation; finally reaching the tip of your toes, where you stand right now, a nanoscopic distance between you. Each one of you is afraid to cross the bridge, unaware of the other’s desires.

Finally, Jin acqueises and meets you on your side.

Atomic explosions ring through your head, clearing out every single thought that is not about Jin’s lips on yours. The ropes that held your heart from beating to the tune of your want, they’ve loosened their knots to give you the leeway to love freely. As your lips exchange positions, his teeth lightly drag across your plush petal, and it brings back the most important part of that night that you couldn’t recollect - the one where his lips sang wordless songs of adoration against yours. Blind as a bat, you were.

You dig your fingers into his hair, not minding your residual arousal coating his locks, and you feel his hands doing the same to you. With your eyes closed, you feel a rough edge to his cushiony soft lips, but Jin fixes that mistake - one stray strand of hair trapped in the middle of your indulgence - he pulls it away to give you all of the kiss. The hand tucked in your tresses pushes in, silently demanding more access, and you’re nothing but ready to give it.

His tongue sneaks in to play a game with yours - when you seek it, it goes into hiding, finding perfect pleasure in soft, sweet kisses, but when you stay, it comes back in, awakening your tongue to deepen again. Everything he is doing is too much and not enough in one go, and you whine into his mouth in desperation, seeking some well-earned relief after months of holding back.

Amidst the flurry of your lips, your back hits the vanity countertop, and Jin pushes away everything on top to make space for you, not caring what expensive item flies down the counter to accommodate your ass.

As if you’ve made up for the months of holding back, the softness of the kisses erodes, teeth coming into play more and more, reminiscent of the night that went by in a blur. He swallows every mewl you give in return, blissed out beyond repair, your neediness making his cock strain against the denim.

His hand snakes down, spreading his fingers to get a hold of your back to push you towards him, covering any gap that dared to intervene. Now unworried about the shoot, your hands have effectively ruined his perfectly placed locks and messed them up to resemble the craze he let you spin in.

Before he can glide his tongue back in, you break the kiss, lest you lose yourself in it to the point where you forget to breathe. With attached foreheads, you take deep drags of air, letting the oxygen flow to your brain before you make some ill-advised, unclarified decisions.

“I- I was jus-”

“Shhh. Wait,” he breathes out, wanting to take a second and fully savor the moment. You nod in return, making his head move along with yours.

After sufficient air fills his lungs, Jin starts. “Y/N, we should stop.”

Last time this had happened, you had tried to force your way through his barrier, without giving his feelings a second of consideration. So this time, you don’t repeat your mistakes. “Tell me why.”

“Because, I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I’m way deeper in this than you think.”

“Jin, I-”

“Let me finish.” He stops you before you can explain how much you reflect his emotions, possibly more. He doesn’t seem to want to listen now. “Let me finish, or else I’ll chicken out, for the millionth time.”

You’re dumbfounded. Millionth time? When was the first? Acting majors, by God.

“I love you, Y/N.”

No, now you are dumbfounded. Your hands, holding his precious locks, drop down in shock, at sheer disbelief that all this time, he has been ready and waiting to return you the favor. Jin though, misinterprets it as a look of disdain.

“I-I know I do, and I’m sorry that I do. I know you don’t feel the same way. You can hate me all you want, but this is the truth.”

“And yes,” he continues, refusing to halt for even half a second, afraid that the courage he mustered to confess would dissipate the moment he does, “I’m attracted to you, and I don’t know what went down here --” flicking his wrist to mention your (his) outfit, “--but I’m looking, okay? And I’m hard as fuck. But that’s not all there is to it.”

“I need all of you.” He takes an audible gulp, trying to stymy his emotions from overpowering him. “I want to take you out, I want to hold you hand, I want to bring you to all the places I love. I want to introduce you to people, not as my best friend, but so much more than that. It hurts me,” bringing his hand to his chest, he emphasizes the point of pain by clutching over his heart, “hurts to call you that because I’m lying through my fucking teeth.”

You break eye contact, because there are tears smarting your eyes at his heartfelt revelation. You can’t believe the idiot that you have been all this while. The man of your dreams stands in front of you, baring his soul, and you can’t even do him the decency of telling him what you felt yourself before jumping his bones.

And you love him, too. Maybe you haven’t said so, even to yourself, but you’ve known all this while.

You love him.

“If you are just looking for a fuck, or want any sort of a ‘benefits’ situation, we should stop. I can’t lie to myself anymore.”

“Jin, my God,” you half-sigh, half-laugh, feeling a burden lift off of you after months of pining.

“You don’t have to pacify me, it’s okay, I’ll be fine.” Even in this moment, he is looking out for you. His lips are curved upward to show you that he’s okay, but his pupils are shaky and restless, not in sync with his smile. You hope your next words can fix that for him.

“Pacify you? Hate you?” You shoot him an incredulous look, one you will explain to him very soon. “You are a much better person than I am, Jinnie. For months now, I’ve loved you, but even at this point, I didn’t stop to tell you.” The guilt of letting your hormones cloud your judgement for the second time lays heavily on your conscience. “I’m sorry for not making this clear earlier, but let me now. I love you, Kim Seokjin. I have for way too long. I want you, I need you. You have me, in every possible way.”

It feels unparalleled to get that off your chest. The leaden weight of your emotions immediately disappears - or the fact that it's shared, makes it much, much lighter. But then you look at Jin, and he still seems to have not put two and two together. You patiently wait for him to process all the information.

When he finally recoups, he yells, “What?!”

You let out a loud guffaw, the first one with no inhibitions in the longest time. “What?”

“Why didn’t you say anything that day at the cafe?!”

“You said you’d never date me, asshole!” You punch his chest softly, before slipping your hands behind him and pulling him closer. “I might not look like it, but I have some dignity.”

“I said that?” Jin brings one hand to pinch his nose in annoyance. “What an idiot. I think I was just inverting everything to make sure I don’t accidentally slip up.”

You lift your head to meet his eyes again, letting him see the tears you were hiding. You find a couple in his eyes, too. But the smile on your face is genuine, and that is all that matters. “I was blind too, so don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Flitting your eyes down to find the contour of his cock against his jeans, you ask him innocently, “How about we make up for lost time?”

“Fuck, yes, please.” And with that, your lips are engulfed again.

When you have all your guards down, the kiss tastes sweeter than before. Mere moments ago, while thoroughly enjoying the kiss, a sense of reticence had clouded your pleasure, holding you back from luxuriating in the headiness. A series of what-ifs had plagued your subconscious without your realization, but with all that cleared, you wholly submit to the kiss, emptying your mind until nothing but his name remains.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Jin gasps out, when you bite into his pillowy lower lip, “I thought you looked the prettiest in the dress earlier but,” after pulling away, he drinks your current attire in, “you look the most beautiful in this.”

You snicker. “Even more than World Wide Handsome?”

His eyes bore into yours, no hint of the joking lilt he always carries in them.

“So much more.”

Your hands find their place amidst his shaggy hair again, and you lodge his face into your neck - a command Jin acquiesces to with great pleasure. After a long, wet lick to your collarbone, he lays feather-soft kisses on the trail he left, starting from your shoulder and working inward, until he brushes against the back of your ear. You grasp at his sweater, because his lips feel so good. Your breaths are short, sucking in every time he allows your skin the luxury of a soft peck. Once he lays a kiss on your forehead, he brings his gaze down to one of the main reasons that causes his cock to stir.

“Fuck, look at your nipples under my shirt.”

Gazing down, you can see the two pointed peaks that caught Jin’s eyes.

“That tends to happen when I’m thinking of you.”

He twists a nipple over the shirt, hardening it further, and you throw your head back in the satisfying pain. “Yeah, I remember.”

You are unraveling every second, the ache swishing amongst the bliss his fingers are bringing in you. He’s switched over to drawing circles around your nipple, until he snaps and tugs your shirt up, finally revealing the palmfulls of flesh awaiting his hands.

“Ah that night, I didn’t get to do this. Take this off.” But then, he makes you put on his robe again. You throw him a questioning look, to which he responds with a sheepish smile, “Just so, you know… you don’t feel cold… or something.”

“Just say you like me in your clothes and move on.”

“I love you in my clothes,” he admits in a heartbeat, his expression that of anguish, “can we move on?”

“God, gladly.”

Unexpectedly, he bites the side of your boob - not hard at all, but feeling his teeth against your skin sends your head reeling backward. Your involuntary response is to wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your core against him. His teeth continue to nip you lightly across the expanse of your breasts, the trail of saliva he leaves cooling parts of your flushed body. Finally, finally, he latches onto your left nipple and gives it a long, pleasurable suck.

“Ahh, Jin - you’re too - God damn it - you’re too good at this.”

Without stopping the onslaught he is unleashing on your breasts, his fingers begin to move - but soon, they stop, hesitation rippling off of their tips. His pace falters, and his mind is fighting on the next course of action.

“Can I-”

“Finish what you started that night?” you complete for him, already prepared with your answer. “Yes, please.”

All forms of uncertainty shoot out of his touch, and he confidently trudges forward. Playing with the band of your panties, he gives you a well-intended chuckle, murmuring, “As far as I remember, I was so good you passed out.”

“Boy,” You groan, intended in jest, but his teeth slide against your jaw and it mostly comes out more wanton than jovial, “let me see you have tequila for dinner and remember much the next day.”

“Fair fair,” he gives in, shifting to buss the valley of your cleavage, feeling your heart thud against your ribs holding it in place. “Well today,” he starts without moving his face, his nimble fingers moving past the barrier of your underwear, pressing two fingertips directly on your clit, and hissing like it's him at the receiving end, “I’ll give you enough to remember.”

You pull his sweater off and chuck it away, not wanting to be reminded of any blockades that kept you apart, and your hands roam the expanse of his back remembering the touch of his skin from the night at the bar. His body isn’t new to you, but the circumstances make it feel different.

Finally, his fingers find their way inside you.

Yes, this. This was what was missing from your drunken tryst. With your heads in place, your ardor intensifies, and you move his lips back to yours needing to release your animalistic desire into his mouth. Pleasure surges through both of you as you threaten to swallow him whole.

You can feel him being more present, and considering the merciless finger-fucking you had earned that night, this is taking it to a whole other degree.

The night at the bar, his fingers did their best to ravish you, but now, Jin is paying attention, close attention to the way you respond. Every muscle movement is recorded in him as you struggle to accommodate three of his lengthy digits. Leaning close, he gives your peaked nipple the lightest feather lick - the suddenness sends shockwaves through you as he continues to tweeze the other, talented pianist hands performing his musical piece on both ends of you.

His fingers pump into you with determination, finding new depths to explore that he missed out on, and with a curl of his pointer, you blank out, screaming in the orgasm that is washing over you. Every skincell of your body feels the quiver of lust spreading, your cunt squeezing for an eternity, milking the orgasm out to the extent that you can.

When you look down, your metaphorical orgasmic flood manifestes as a deluge of your arousal leaking on the table. And when you look back up, you can see the salacious ideas making their rounds in Jin’s head as he looks at the inundation you released.

Hurried hands still convulsing from the intensity of your orgasm, you undo his belt, followed by his jeans and finally - getting the pleasure you were heartlessly denied of - his cock is out, in all its glory, twitching as the cool air hits its naked skin. Jin’s plans don’t go hand in hand with yours though.

“Are we just - holy fucking shit - just, umm, leave that to waste?” he lustfully looks down to your leaking core, and someway, through your hold on his dick, he tries to steer you into his plans.

“I don’t know about that,” you cheekily reply. You have the right idea to satisfy both of you, and get down to the task.

With the flat of your palm, you swipe across the droplets of cum you released, gathering them to transfer them onto his thick length. Jin thrusts into your hand, the wetness jolting him into attention, and he places an arm on your shoulder to steady himself.

“You’re going to taste yourself?” he asks as you continue your vacillating motion, twisting at the base of his head with the wetness you graciously provided yourself. You give him a nonchalant look, something he is trying to do to you as well.

“Who said I’m gonna suck you off?”

His look changes, and the one you get in return is cocky, arrogant, downright rude if you were honest. You expected him to play on with your banter, but one raised eyebrow and the lazy smirk he gives, to what he probably thinks is a joke - Zeus could land on earth and not be able to stop you from gobbling his meat.

Your mouth is filled with his dick even before your knees hit the ground. Jin staggers back, but your suction on his dick is funnily strong enough to pull him back before falling. You switch positions, having him balance himself against the counter, all while you refuse to leave his cock out. His giggle of endearment has you pouting, but it swells your heart and makes you want to give more, more of anything and everything. With your renewed vigor, you push yourself in until his pubes tickle your nose, and his tip tickles your throat.

“Your-”, “I-”, “uhh-”

Every new sentence Jin starts crumbles to your actions. You furrow your brows both in concentration on your blowing skills and trying to decode what he is trying to say.

Jin takes a large gulp, adamant on making this one a coherent sentence. “You know, I used to imagine this, and in my dreams I used to be very sexy and suave, talking my way throug-oof-” You run your tongue over the tip of his leaking dick, emphasizing the point he is coming to, “Now I can’t even complete sentences here.”

“You being you is super sexy in itself.” And you curve your tongue to match the arch of his cock, letting the incoming saliva pool on it before letting it run down his shaft, dripping down from his balls. Strings of his precum connect to your lips, and you swipe your tongue through them, relishing the salty goodness before going back in for more.

“Y/N, shit, did you just moan?”

How couldn’t you? The fact that he is horny for you, so much so that rivulets of precum don’t stop drizzling down your throat, has you preening. You hum your assent in response, not willing to let go even for a moment, but Jin pulls you off before you can get a chokehold on the base of his cock again.

“Never had a woman moan while sucking me off. It’s sexy as fuck,” Jin breathes into your lips as he dives in for a kiss.

Your chest is heaving, catching the breaths you lost when you were down. “Then why’d you stop me?”

“Are you kidding me? I was about to lose it right there.”

“Jinnie, come on,” you break the fragmentary kiss you were sharing, looking into his glassy eyes, “let me feel you come on my tongue.” To emphasize your conviction, you lick his lips, persuading him of the sinful deeds your tongue is capable of doing if he’d just let you.

“Oh man, stop. What’s worse than busting a nut in your mouth? Busting it while you’re kissing me. Making me feel like a teenager.” You erupt into a loud laugh, soon followed by Jin as well. It is so him to joke about this.

“And babe,” all hints of embarrassment vanishing from his tone, “I’m only going to come inside you.”

“Fuck, fuck, yes. You got a condom on you?”

“Yeah, let me grab my wallet.” The instant he moves away, you feel naked, shivering from the comfort stolen away from you. But then you hear Jin grumble, “I hope I don’t have the bacon-flavored one.” And the absurdity of it all puts you at ease again.

“Ew, stop, even you can’t make that sexy. My lady boner is dying.”

He envelops you again, and you can feel the laughter echoing in his lungs before making it out to your ears. He brings your attention to the familiar rustle of foil wrapper. “Thankfully, we got chocolate.”

“Mmmh, gotta love chocolate.”

You take the condom out of his hands, and roll it onto his stiff length, flattered that he’s holding his erection for so long.

“Okay, stick it in me!” And you smack your ass in readiness, and a very flabbergasted Jin breaks out chortling.

“Y/N, stop being my best friend for like, five minutes!” His brows are furrowed in pretense exasperation, but you can see his lips holding back a genuine smile through the grimace, just happy that your dynamics haven’t changed the slightest, even though everything else has shifted.

“Okay okay,” you try and suppress your own laughter, before continuing, “how do you want me, baby?”

“Bend over on the vanity. And keep your eyes on the mirror.” And as you move into position, his palms grab your ass and squeeze it hard, feeling your glutes push back against his grip, and he pushes you forward till you're on the tips of your toes. You watch him through the mirror, watch him admire the way your ass curves over the table edge, how your toes struggle to keep you up, and how the dimples of your back are deepened by the arch, peeking under the bunched up robe tails, just waiting for him.

“Jin.” Your hushed whisper puts him in action.

Pushing the head in is anguish and relief at the same time. His bulbous head stretches your entrance; even with your preparation, you feel it sting. The searing gets better and better with every inch slipping in, and when he finally lodges inside, you let out a heavy breath, still panting and keeping yourself from screaming bloody murder in pleasure. Jin bends forward to paint the back of your neck, sucking the flesh till the circular bruise comes to surface.

“Can you- can you-fuck, no, wait-” Your brain is at war with itself, battling between adjusting to his girth and having him pump you into adjustment.

You can feel Jin’s snicker from behind you, and he finally makes the decision for you. “I’ll wait, I have things to do here,” he says before playing around the patch of skin, spreading from the base of your hair to the expanse of your back, his teasing licks relaxing your walls and accommodating his girth. The pain is almost gone, expect for the lingering ache that only helps you.

“You can move now, babe.”

“Okay, okay.” Your words snap him out of the painter’s dream he was in, and he twitches inside you. Something about the ease at which you both have adopted nicknames for each other softens his heart and hardens his cock.

Pulling out till only the head rests inside, Jin himself struggles against the third degree grip your pussy has on him. As he is thrusting inside again, your walls tense up, making it harder and harder for him to hold back.

“Y/N, sweetie, relax. I got you.”

“Jin, I’m-” You have tears running down your eyes, the pleasure and unsurmountable happiness rolling out in fat hot drops. “Fuck me harder. I won’t last.”

“Shit. Okay, hold on then.”

To what? Is what you’re going to ask before Jin unleashes his carnality onto you. Your breasts, dripping in sweat and saliva, are plastered to the countertop, which in itself is jiggling to the beat of Jin’s thrusts. His dick is curving inside to hit you repeatedly, and you have to gather the satin fabric to wipe your eyes to keep your gaze fixed on him.

He looks majestic. Forehead embellished with beads of sweat, his hair coiffed up, lips sanguine red after your vicious kisses - you swipe your tongue along your own lips to find them battered in response. His honey chest is heaving with every push, and a particular one hits you just right.

You let out a guttural groan, and Jin takes note of it immediately.

“Up,” he commands, and loops an arm under your belly to you pull you up and closer and now every thrust hits deeper into that spot he has found in you, your back connected to his chest as the two of you move in tandem; this is the most together you’ve ever felt with anyone. This moment is to be etched in your memories forever.

You scream into your fist to muffle the sounds, the edge of the table digging into your hip bone as you feel yourself getting closer to the brink. One swipe to the clit is all you have left to bring you to your release.

And from some telepathic force, or from the clutch your pussy has on him, Jin beats you to it. His fingers come down and carefully find your swollen nub, pinching it between his fingers. If he thought you’d shown him your hardest clench, he was wrong, because right now your dam has broken, and the iron-clad grip you give his cock sends him reeling, too.

You are gushing on his dick, the rubber dripping with your wetness. Jin too releases into the condom in stuttered gasps, his thrusts becoming shorter and shallower as he comes down from his high.

Petal-like kisses fall on your back as the two of you regain your breaths. The mirror that served you two well is covered in a fog of hot breath and perspiration, blearing your vision of yourself, but somehow, it sparkles with Jin’s reflection. His nobility-esque visuals use the haze as a valance for his appearance, framing them to make him look like you’re among the clouds. And in some way, you actually are.

“Ah, let me go.” You jiggle your shoulders back to make the man above you move. “Fuck, can you check if my spine is in place? I think you dislodged it.”

“Shut up and come hug me, I’ll squeeze it back in place.”

Now this is something you could get used to.

As he ties and throws away the used condom, you flip over to face him and fall back into his embrace, broad shoulders promising to protect you, making you feel safe in his care. Jin on the other hand is simply ecstatic to feel you on him, feeling your thumping heart beat for him, after months of pining and pondering whether anything would become of the seed of your tumultuous friendship. Now, it has blossomed to a garden of prospect and promise, every petal of every flower here reading a new opportunity to tell you how much he adores you, cherishes you, treasures you. How much he loves you. An opportunity he doesn’t wait to use.

“I love you.”

The pink tinge of your cheeks either comes from the sex, or from his comment, but either way, he is glad its from him.

“I love you too, Jin. So, so very much.”

If your heart could leap out of your chest, it would do so, to find its way to his and fuse into one. But for now, your entwined bodies give you all you want.

You hear Jin stifle a laugh, and pull back in question. He points to something odd on the countertop.

“What is that?”

The cream white surface of the table, that was maligned by your ignoble deeds, now sports two glistening, wheatish semi circles that look very similar to the sizes of one person who was splayed on top of it just moments ago.

“Is that…” Jin is trying to contort his lips and halt the looming snicker, and he brings his eyes down to your chest (trying not to get hard again), “Did you have makeup on your chest?”

“Shut up.” All you can do is fall closer into his arms, hopefully masking the tint of embarrassment highlighting the apples of your cheeks. “I wanted to make them look extra good for you.”

He’s given up on holding back, the full-bellied laugh that resonated from him echoing across the room. But it dwindles down fast, coming to small chuckles of tenderness, and he slips his digits beneath your chin to have you meet his gaze.

“They always look good,” he whispers, his admittance setting your chest aflame, “trust me, I’d know.”

Taglist 💛: @little7bitchh, @afangirllikeme-blog, @h34rt1lly, @marpotterhead

Thank you so much for making it to the end! I hope you enjoyed the fic, my ask box is always open for your lovely opinions. To read more of my work, find my main masterlist here. :)

596 notes · View notes

fanmoose12 · 3 years

Note

Hello would you mind writing vets as a music band? And that fans suspect the “normal” relationship of head vocal Levi and bassist Hange? Sorry if my english isn’t writing properly at all.

Mikasa invites him to a No Name concert.

And it's like- whatever, right? Who cares? Jean certainly doesn't.

So what if the girl of his dreams asks him out on a date? It's not like he has been daydreaming about it for the past two years. So what if she offers to see his favorite band in the whole world? He doesn't even like them much. Sure, he knows all their songs by heart but- he doesn't listen to them that often. Only twice or thrice each day. And it's not like his closet hides an insane amount of their merchandise. That is between Jean, his closet and his mother.

He isn't nervous, he doesn't care about the upcoming date. At all. Most certainly, he doesn't spend literal days, obsessing over his outfit. And he obviously doesn't pester Sasha and Connie with questions on how to style his hair.

Most importantly, he doesn't imagine how it would feel to hold Mikasa's hand or maybe even go for a hug or a kiss-

Jean tries not to think about it, his heart starts to beat to fast, when he does, but when he doesn't think about Mikasa, he starts thinking about No Name and the little, tinie tiny fact that he's going to see them in person. That he's going to meet them and maybe even shake their hand, because Mikasa being the gorgeous goddess she is, got them tickets with access to a backstage. It didn't require any kind of effort from her side, since the famed, spectacularly, dreamy Levi Ackerman is Mikasa's cousin, but- Jean doesn't remember sharing his No Name obsession with Mikasa, for obvious reasons - he doesn't want to think that he likes her just because she's Levi Ackerman's cousin, Mikasa is great not because she's an Ackerman, but because she's Mikasa, but- but Jean is so, so grateful that he'll have the chance to see No Name in all their glory.

Of course, he is not at all nervous about meeting his favorite band in person. No, no, he doesn't lose sleep over it, his palms don't turn clammy. Sometimes he feels like he'll combust from anticipation, but he's fine, completely fine.

He just can't wait until that fated day will come.

---

When that day rolls around at last, Jean is cool. He's cool, calm, serene.

His hand is greasy from all the times he touched his slicked back hair, and he can't stop tugging at the sleeves of his leather jacket, but- but he's cool.

The band that is currently playing isn't that bad - not nearly as talented and awesome, and hot as No Name, but still good. The crowd is bigger than Jean is comfortable with, but today it works in his favor because it prompts Mikasa to hold his hand. Maybe, he'll get that kiss after all. If he continues keeping his cool.

That proves to be just a little harder task when Mikasa announces that they reached the backstage.

Jean can't help it - he gawks around helplessly.

This is it, this is a place where miracles happen, where stars lounge and rest.

This is the place where he'll meet No Name.

Jean can't imagine how this meeting will transpire. Will they like him? Will they agree to make a photo? Will they give him an autograph? Will they think that he's a weirdo who is too obsessed with their music?

All of the above? None of the above?

Jean doesn't know.

There are so many things he wants to say. There are so many things he wants to ask - how can they play with those bandages on? How do they never trip during performances? What is their favorite song to play? What do they do in their free time? What is their favorite food? Are the rumors about Levi Ackerman and Hange Zoe-

Okay, no, he probably shouldn't ask that last question, no matter how much he wants to know the answer. And he wants to, so, so much.

The thing is- there are many rumors about No Name. It's not surprising, they are young, famous and extremely hot. These rumors usually exclude the drummer, Mike Zacharias, who is already engaged with a very pretty blonde lady, their stylist. Although, there are some fans who speculate that the engagement is not true, and Mike actually dates their producer, one Erwin Smith, but- Jean usually ignores that type of fans, branding them as freaks.

Now, as far as everyone is aware, nor Levi Ackerman, neither Hange Zoe are involved in any kind of romantic relationships, and that's- that's where the juicy stuff begins.

There aren't many rumors about Hange - some say she's involved with Pieck, the band's make-up artist. Or their manager, Moblit Berner. Or an indie artist, Onyakopon. But that's where the list ends.

Levi Ackerman, however, oh he has a far longer list of lovers. Petra Ral, for example, a rising pop-star - young, talented and so pretty that it hurts. Or Erwin, although on that subject rumors wary - some say that Erwin is the one who got Levi in showbiz, some say that Erwin is his sugar daddy, some say that they're already engaged and even married. The rumors are as varied as they're wrong, in Jean's opinion. Most rumors about Levi are like that. There are even talks about his involvement with Yeager brothers - with the front man of the rival band, Zeke, and Jean's and Mikasa's classmate, Eren. Jean doesn't understand where these rumors even come from, as far as he's aware, Levi hates them both. But- but rumors still exist.

As stupid as they are.

Now, Jean has a different opinion, one that he spends nights defending in chats and forums. Yes, Levi Ackerman has a lover. And no, it's not Petra Ral, Erwin Smith or any of the Yeager brothers. It's Hange Zoe, No Name's bassist.

There are many reasons why he thinks so. Firstly, they are always together. And by always, Jean means always. In photoshoots they stand side by side, during performances they lean against each other, on all kinds of photos - from after-parties to official events, they always touch each other in some way. And that's not all. They spend their vacations together, they hang out at movies, restaurants, museums, their respective instagrams are full of the other's candid photos. And it's a known fact that they share an apartment. Honestly, how much more obvious it can get? Also Jean is pretty sure that one of the songs written by Levi is about Hange, and he has an entire essay, explaining why he's right. He prays to every saint known that Mikasa will never find it. He doesn't want his almost girlfriend to find out just how invested he is in the romantic life of her famous cousin.

As they walk further and further into the magical territory of the backstage, Jean tries to think of something cool to say, something laid-back and easy like 'hey, what's up, guys? I've listened to the couple of your songs, you're not that bad...'

Yes, he decides. That's a good way to start. A cool way to start.

And Jean is cool. And calm.

And- oh my god, there they are, the three of them, already in their costumes, just without the signature bandages. They look even cooler in person. They look even hotter and-

Mikasa squeezes his hand.

"If my asshole cousin says something awful, I'll punch him in the face for you."

God, that is so sweet. So Mikasa. He wouldn't be opposed to anyone getting a punch from her except- her gorgeous cousin. His pretty face should be protected at all costs.

However, as they approach, the face that charmed millions transforms, turning into a quite nasty scowl.

"So that's him?" Levi Ackerman asks (Jean's sick brain, even in that moment, can't help but note that Hange Zoe is standing right behind her band member, a hand laying on his shoulder). "That's the guy you're going crazy about?"

"Yes," Mikasa answers, and suddenly the air grows stiff. "Do you have a problem with that?"

The lines around Levi's mouth harden, and Jean tries to focus on Hange Zoe, while his mind prepares for something not at all pretty, but- Hange is smiling - not smirking, smiling. That is a good sign, right?

"Don't mind the Ackermans," she stage whispers to Jean. "Levi was actually very excited about meeting you."

Right now it's hard to imagine that dark (and still so handsome) face in the expression of excitement, but. Hange knows him a lot more, right?

"Oh and by the way," she giggles, and at the back of his mind Jean wonders if that's how angels sound like. "I'm Hange."

He almost blurts out 'I know' but- that'd be creepy? Or not? He can't decide so settles on a simple nod.

"Jean," he says, taking the offered hand in his. With his hand that isn't holding Mikasa's (they're holding hands, wow!), he shakes Hange's. It's unexpectedly calloused. But still warm and gentle. Not as nice as Mikasa's but... somewhere very close.

"And that is the one and only Levi Ackerman," Hange continues, gesturing to the man in question. "He only looks so scary. But actually," she winks and lowers her voice. "He's the biggest softie you'll ever meet."

The biggest softie Jean has ever met, practically snarls, baring his teeth. But the hand on his shoulder tightens and he instantly relaxes, scoffing in annoyance. Oh, so that's who Hange Zoe is? The one who tames the beast?

"You're not as revolting as her other dates," Levi says. Jean is pretty sure that it was meant as a compliment. "But if you dare to-"

"Oi," Mikasa's face becomes as stormy as her cousin's. "He won't."

"And even if he does," Hange smiles, so handsome and a little scary. "Mikasa knows what to do."

Jean gulps. He has seen Mikasa train that one time. He was very impressed, and a little bit scared. Also a lot aroused.

He knows with ironclad certainty that should Mikasa kick him... his face may not survive it.

"Hange, Levi," a gruff voice behind them calls. Jean lifts his eyes, mouth opening in shock as he sees him in the flash - the third member of Non Name, Mike Zacharius himself. In person... he is even more enormous than on photos. His shoulders are twice as wide as Jean's, and next to Hange and Levi, he looks almost like a giant. "We're starting in five."

"Oh!" Hange covers her mouth with a palm. "I haven't checked my guitar yet. Let's hurry, shorty!"

Hange dashes away instantly, Levi sighs and trudges after her. Mikasa tugs at Jean's hand as well, whispering that they need to go to their places.

Jean nods, absentmindedly, because right in that moment, at the other side of the room he sees Hange and Levi exchange a playful, quick but undeniably a kiss.

Triumph courses through him, firing him up. He knew that he was right, those fuckers from twitter can eat his shit.

Hange Zoe and Levi Ackerman are truly dating.

He wants to know more, wants to ask Mikasa to spare the juicy details, but for now-

For now, Jean has to take care of his date as well.

He interlaces their fingers, and, keeping Hange's words in mind - Ackermans are not as scary as they look - he leans in to press a kiss to Mikasa's cheek and whispers,

"You look fantastic."

Ever so slightly, but Mikasa blushes. It's the best moment of the evening so far.

And, hopefully, there will be more of that.

#levihan #jeankasa #i guess???

105 notes · View notes

thequibblah · 3 years

Note

Oooh can I get some commentary on the fucking MAGICAL scene in Come Together where James shows Lily Prongs for the first time?

spoilers below obv

send me a ⭐for director's commentary!

ok. in preparation i read not just 41, but also 40, because to me the patronus scene is so linked to the conversation james and lily had at the end of the previous chapter. in my first draft the argument was a lot more intense/more of a full-on shouting match, but when i actually wrote it i found myself coming up against lily's resistance in so firm a way that i knew there would be some deescalation.

but i also needed this break apart to feel like they were apart in more ways than just the physical — i didn't want them to write to one another, and in a world where they're on decent terms they would absolutely do so. so even if lily didn't want to argue, james had to leave angry.

and he does! but even when he's pissed at lily he's never not a simp, and i wanted him to give lily the map so she could sneak around practising her patronus. but also it was an action that was all about the unsaid — very easy to imagine a version where james hadn't given her the map (or had perhaps given her the cloak instead?) and spent the days away from school watching her on the map, pining. it's a move of maturity on his part to recognise what she'd need and give it to her, even when he doesn't fully agree with her reason for staying.

(and of course, lily gets to look at the map all week and not see him)

lily's grateful for the map obv, but it was Very Important that she takes the note in addition to the map itself — this moment is not just about utility but about the sort of gratuitous feeling that comes only with a deepening crush. and even though the patronus scene is really the moment where she's like ah crap i'm in it, the ground beneath her is already tilting that way!

so. anyway. onto the actual scene you asked about LOL

this was one of those scenes i had planned in my head forever but my planning is SO daydream-heavy, and unusually, i did not let myself daydream this one out at allll. i think part of me was worried i'd get attached and then would be sad if it didn't fit the character choices in the moment LOL. but also i was kind of...scared LMAO i was like wow are we really going to do this! is james really going to! do this! and i knew it would be hard to pull off with a light touch.

so i guess i took the james strategy of not really thinking about it until the moment arrived HA

all of 41, i wanted the tension to feel like a simmer, until euphemia faints and sirius is calling a code red and oh my god everything is happening at once!!! and we know james isn't with marissa again, and we know shit's about to hit the fan for lily, but she, poor thing, knows fuck-all. and james himself is so good at taking shit on and never ever opening up <3 and thanks to lily's mum we've already seen her struggle to be vulnerable when she's goin thru it, and this was a similarity i rly wanted to highlight — though the two of them seem like opposites on the surface, they really process and act in very similar ways, which is obviously what makes them romantically compatible. but it's also what makes them so fun to write about — you can plan these little circles and parallels and pat yourself on the back when they all add up :"")

back when lily's mum was sick, she wrote to james as a way to ignore her argument with doe — she sought comfort in him because he signified distance. he was a friend, but not so close that she had to show too much of herself. now, james and lily are that close, so only a very specific circumstance would get james to seek her out that way (and of course he always saw her in a very specific light that makes it even harder to drop that front). which is why lily had to convince him to let her go with him.

but backtracking a second! what's really sending this ol' crush into overdrive for lily is the specific sequence of seeing what james is like as a friend — the way he stands up for remus, and she knows they help with his transformations but not exactly how — and maybe part of her has clicked that sometimes even his most infuriating behaviour with her is because she's a good friend to him too. and through this whole fic she's been like, what is up with james!! what is he thinking!! who is he!!

and everyone else is like he is in love with you

and she's like ok no but really

kdjfhgkdf

she even thinks as much in the argument in 40:

Either her dig had cut deeper than she’d meant for it to, or — something else, something else. There was always something else with him, something under the surface she could never quite see or feel or reach. Something she could only ever guess at.

and now this wild, impossible to verbalise drive to better understand him is combined with genuine concern and the dreaded crush.

so fun fact this scene also involved SO much tedious logistics omg i was like shoot she has to be cold, she has to leave her book, how tall is a deer ;____; and it was Not Fun kjhjkfdgd

the sensation of being in lily's head for this scene was unreal — she was the most feral i had ever written her up to that point, and the combination of the my mother is dead trauma with the my crush's mother is sick ??? concern was. so much. god bless james for turning into a deer and waylaying any conversation

OH also the "trust me" — a fun lil ctrl+f shows that the fic's big repeat offender for saying the phrase trust me is, unsurprisingly, james, and he says it often to lily. but the specific callback i was going for was from chapter 19, when he says "trust me" right before running out to face mulciber like an insane person — the effect being absolutely opposite on lily, of course. and he hands her his wand, which is not necessarily a GASP TABOO but i'd imagine you don't just give anyone your wand that is yours and chose you

His wand felt very warm, in what was hopefully not a hostile reaction to her.

(no prizes for guessing it isn't, by the way)

oh jesus he called her "lily" too

guys what the fuck did i do in this scene i don't think this is legal

anyway. the realisation that they absolutely use their animagus forms on full moons hits her here, but not in a way that's explicit in the internal monologue. the sheer So Much of it all is what moves her to tears — but mostly she's just so like... oh my god i was wrong about him because he wasn't pigheaded and immature even when she thought he was but also oh my god what do i do with this information!!!!!

i think someone in the comments spotted this, but lily's surprise when he hugs her is absolutely a mirror to when she's hugged him and startled him in the past (off the top of my head can't remember where specifically, but that's his typical response LOL).

of course, even in this huge moment of vulnerability james can't just give it all up, but i wanted the moment where he drops his head onto her shoulder to be the closest he can come to that — the parallel to this from 19:

On impulse, he put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into an awkward sideways hug. She did not push him away. On the contrary. She let out a sigh and wrapped her arms around his waist, and he could feel the dampness of her tears through his shirt. For a moment he didn’t think. Then she was stepping away, looking very embarrassed and drying her cheeks.

you'll notice that in 41 the only evidence lily has that james was crying was her blouse being damp! i hate subtlety :)

james insisting on apologising was of course a contrast to petunia and her non-apologies

and festina lente, the new common room password, means make haste slowly, aka slow burns are good :~)

#this contained a lot of information you didn't actually ask for #firefeufuego #ask me #come together #41 #director's cuts #ct spoilers

23 notes · View notes

mojoflower · 4 years

Text

WHY is fanfiction not the appropriate venue for your political or social battle?

We can all agree, I posit, that there are changes that need to be made in the world (racism, for example; patriarchal inequalities; rape culture; capitalism; plug in your personal cause here).

We can all ALSO agree, I think, that the way culture, media, etc. portray things influences a consumer on an unconscious level.

We can agree that, in real life, certain things are clearly bad: abuse of others, non-consensual sex, systemic inequality, I can go on….

So. Let me feel my way through this. I, personally, feel like fanfiction (specifically on AO3, since that’s where I encounter it) is NOT an appropriate battleground for enforcing cultural change by:

Leaving comments about how someone’s work is (in your, the commenter’s, opinion) wrong, damaging, unfair, insensitive, etc.

Telling the writer they should change this or that.

Telling the writer they must add or delete tags.

Broadcasting your opinion of the writer’s egregiousness outside AO3 (twitter, for example, or here on tumblr).

Organizing a campaign of harassment against the author if they don’t change to suit your personal requirements.

First of all:

Be the change you want to see.

Fanfiction, unlike any other media out there, is INDIVIDUAL. It is one work, from one single person – voluntary and unpaid. You yourself are one single person. You can have as much influence as this writer. Write the works you want to read, instead of demanding that the writer change to suit you. This is how romance novels changed from non-con, non-condom-wearing, shudderingly unequal stories in the 70s and 80s to where they are now, for example. New people started writing stories, and eventually established authors started changing, too (or dwindled away).

Remember that you know nothing about the author.

You don’t know their culture, their skin color, their age, their gender. You don’t know their socioeconomic status or how much free time they have. You don’t know their current mental or physical conditions. You don’t know any of the things going on in their life. AND. You are not entitled to know these things. When you lash out at an author for not doing research, for not editing, for… anything at all… you cannot assume that they’re not fourteen, not suicidal, not a native speaker, not disabled such that writing a single paragraph is a tremendous effort. You don’t know they’re not in an abusive situation, or economic peril. You do not have the right to tell them to change. Whether you are asking them to change text, tone, tagging, ships, plot, you name it. Anything.

Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

Don’t like, don’t read. These are simple concepts, and the tagging system on AO3 helps you to avoid many triggers. Simple common sense, once you're into a story that’s raising your hackles, will warn you away from the rest. If you say, ‘no, this person can’t write that, it’s contributing to pain in the Real World’ then you are functioning as a censor. I mean, at its most basic level, a censor is someone who strikes out passages in books or other media because it’s… immoral/bad/etc. The problem is that morality is incredibly tailored to the group you’re in, and also incredibly fluid, shifting over time. So… why do YOU get to be the censor and not the author? What makes YOU the final word? Seriously, think about it.

Fanfiction writers are the most vulnerable group you could target.

Which makes them easy prey, and possibly makes them the juiciest and most satisfying targets. Address your anger to Hollywood or Simon & Schuster or Congress – and your voice will doubtless get lost in the shuffle. Address it to an author on AO3 and you can deliver your blow personally, one on one, and witness the damage. There is no professional buffer between your resentment and their reaction.

Who are fanfiction writers? Overwhelmingly women, overwhelmingly queer, often very young and inexperienced. Wow. What a rewarding group to start slapping around. You wouldn't be the only one to think so. Seriously. Aim your anger at someone who is STRONGER than you. Not someone who is (likely) weaker than you. You’re kicking a kitten, while a lion lounges behind you.

Censoring someone’s thoughts is bad.

People should be allowed to THINK. And they can think whatever they want. Whether and where and how it should be expressed is another matter. AO3 is a safe place for whatever weird-ass thoughts you have. It is expressly written into their mission statement. AO3 was SPECIFICALLY DESIGNED so that authors could have a place for their dead dove fics.

So. Why is [your pet cause] okay on AO3 and not on a script in Hollywood?

AO3 requires membership before you can post anything, so it’s arguably private. AO3 provides tools for readers to avoid works they might find triggering. AO3 profits no one. Follow the money, and there are your true culprits. Not a housewife from Hoebokken.

Fanfiction writers make no money. When they write, they are not lawmakers, filmmakers, teachers or preachers. This is not their job. They do not have a responsibility to the community, because they are vested with no power and no paycheck. Please move your battlefield to one of these other venues. Your fight will be harder, but it will also do a lot more good than traumatizing some naive kid away from writing forever.

Fanfiction comprises an individual’s personal thoughts and personal works, written for their own enjoyment, shared only through AO3 to (presumably) like-minded readers. Fanfics are a person’s fantasies and daydreams. They might be an author’s therapeutic exercise. Or someone trying to explore something new, whether it be cultures, ideas, sexualities or kinks. Humans need a place where they can be wrong and make mistakes. Think about that, I implore you. If you are constantly pointing out someone’s errors, you may eventually either silence them forever, or instill in them permanent resentment. This does not further your cause.

You have your personal cause.

I’ve seen a lot of them. Incest is bad, you’re not allowed to write about it. Pedophilia is bad, you’re not allowed to write about it. Abusive relationships are bad, you’re not allowed to write about them. Racism is bad, you’re not allowed to write about it. Genderswap is transphobic, you’re not allowed to write about it. A/B/O romanticizes damaging gender inequalities. There are many. If every single one of you got to stamp out your personal crusade, then fic would be scant on the ground and many people wouldn’t try to create anymore. It’s stifling to creativity and terrifying to an author that they might slip up and be called out. No one, as far as I know, likes to think of their fanfiction as something that will be turned in for a grade.

Your standards are your own.

What are the precise parameters of an abusive relationship? Transphobia? Racism? Pedophilia? Fetishism? Where does dub-con become non-con? No one is the mouthpiece for the whole world. You are only the mouthpiece for yourself.

If you think to yourself that it’s not okay to tell someone they can’t write about, say, a gay relationship, but it IS okay to tell them they can’t write about a certain ship or dynamic (for Reasons), then maybe you should step back and check yourself and your entitlement to someone else’s endeavor.

In conclusion:

I’m not saying that racism doesn’t exist in fanfiction. Or creepy sexual abuse, or glorification of harmful dynamics. It certainly does. I’m not trying to play semantics with you.

But when you see these things, when they bother you... back right out.

That’s it. Just back out, ignore it and find a different fic. (Or better yet, write your own!) Shower the fics you approve of with love and comments about why you think they’re great. Give them kudos and bookmarks and shout-outs on your blog. Eventually, if your opinion is popular, authors who thought otherwise will realize that readership is looking for something different. They’ll change or they won’t, but the body of work will change over time, and THAT is what you’re looking to accomplish. Not to stamp out fanfiction altogether.

#mojo muses #fandom wank #censorship #social justice #fanfiction #fandom #I am not disputing the validity of your opinion on Thing #I am disputing your right to push it on a fic author #these are two separate things #cancel culture #antis

642 notes · View notes

17wishbones · 3 years

Photo

Here is Chapter VII: War’s End (Part 2). I low-key cried writing this because, wow, I really do love this Flame Hashira so so so so so so much. I got a bit distracted reading other fanfiction and all that but here comes the second part. Now, this has spoilers from the manga/movie, so get to watching it as soon as possible. However, if you don’t mind it, go ahead and have a read! Please enjoy!

- - - - - - - -

Chapter VII: War’s End (Part 2)

Bright rays of the sun beat down on you as you stood before the oceanfront. The wind blew through your locks and along your skin. In your hands was a net and a few fish caught in them. You ogled them with a tight squint. ‘I know this handwork-’

“_____! _____!”

Your eyes widen. “That can’t be. . .” You slowly turned around and was blessed with a beautiful sight. “Mother? Father? You’re both. . .” Tears flowed like a river as you tackled them in an overdue embrace. You couldn’t swallow the sorrow that crept over your body when you thought to have lost them.

“We’re both what? Other than waiting for you to come home?” Your father was a tall man, standing halfway over six foot. His thick dreads touched the small of his back and his salt and pepper beard filled out his face. He was a handsome man still.

“You must be thirsty, _____. Come on in and drink. You’ve caught enough fish to last us a while.” Your mother was a beauty herself. She had a clean shaven head, a strong jawline, and the legs of an Amazon.

They stood tall while you remained short. You didn’t receive the end of the tall gene pool but that didn’t make you any harder to love, even though they joked about your height all the time. The two of them loved you so much.

Your mother, Oolade, wiped your tears away as your father, Uzoma, got the net of fish from the shore. “We shall eat as kings and queens together!” He shouted. “Look at the bounty our daughter has gathered!”

“I am proud of you, my sweet _____.”

“Mother, Father, please, you are embarrassing me!” You laughed. “Kyōjurō would love nothing more than to meet you both.”

“Kyōjurō?” They both questioned in unison.

“Oh.” Your mind went blank a moment. ‘Why did I say that? Kyōjurō? Who-who is that? His name sounds familiar.’

“Never mind that. Come.” You didn’t even think twice as you followed your mother to your quaint house on the shore that your father built by hand. It was just as you remembered.

“Oolade found some wild rice to make with as well. We’re going to have a feast!”

‘What was I even doing before? I must have been daydreaming.’ There was no questioning this surreal feeling as your parents showered you with love and laughter.

Overwhelmed with a sense of unbridled joy, you thought to never leave him.

You blinked. ‘Him?’ You questioned blankly. ‘Who is this him?’

Time had passed but the scenery didn’t change. “Hey, I’m going to step outside for some air.”

“Hurry back so that you may bless the food before we feast.” Your parents’ smiles, even though forever imprinted in your mind, suddenly dulled in comparison to the image of this fiery man.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. You slowly opened them and saw an outlined path towards the woods. You instinctively followed it to a rip into another space. You gasped aloud as you caught a young child making their way to this shining orb floating within a bundle of sunflowers.

The child turned to you, frightened and with the needle pointing towards you. They were sweating and shaking with fear.

“What are you doing here?”

“How did you find me!? You’re not supposed to be able to enter into your own unconsciousness!”

“It’s mine… isn’t it?” You took a step forward.

“_____? _____!” Oolade and Uzoma came running toward the border with sadness filling their eyes. “What are you doing? Come back!”

“_____, don’t leave us!”

You didn’t heed their words, but their voices wretched your heart. “You plan to do something? For what cost?”

“Destroying your core will allow me to sleep peacefully and see my family again!”

“And that’s the best way to go about it?” You ignored their calls as you pressed forward towards the child. “Your good dream will end and so shall you succumb to your pain.” Your eyes softened. “You will die a sad death. To a demon.”

“How do you know how I feel!? You just had a good dream!”

“A bittersweet dream. My parents have long since passed. They no longer live in this world. Even this cannot bring them back forever or give me peace.”

The child backed up until he was just a footstep away from your core. “Come any closer and I’ll do it!”

You stopped your approach and knelt down, holding your arms out. “Then you choose. Live your life or succumb to an eternal slumber?”

The child had wanted a good dream of his family, to be happy, but when he saw the look on your face, the look of pain and suffering from even getting a glimpse of what life could have been with them spread over your face.

He dropped the needle and ran to you full throttle, crying his heart out as he embraced you tight around your neck.

This was the right thing to do. Even as good as the dream would be, it would hurt all the more to have it taken away.

The faux warmth of the child disappeared and your eyes fluttered open to an ungodly sight that made you want to throw up.

“What the hell!?” You stood on top of flesh. “Intestines!?”

Rengoku flashed past you by one moment and returned the next. “You’re awake, Sunflower!”

“Did the demon become a train!?”

“So it seems, yes! Kamado and Hashibira are going for the neck. Our job—”

“Is to protect the passengers at all costs.”

“Nn! You take care of this cart and I’ll do the other four!”

“Just one?”

“Your safety is of utmost importance! Aid Golden Boy and the Demon girl as needed!” He kissed you quiet before dashing off in a blaze, hushing your protests.

“That man…” you drew your Nichirin blade, “Is so…” your short dash in the cart made easy work of the disgusting, fleshy tendrils, “Annoying!” But you couldn’t argue with his command or logic. He was sound in the midst of danger.

What you did was light work, and by the looks of it, Zenitsu and Nezuko had the other three sorted as Tanjiro and Inosuke ran for the front of the train. You hummed, slightly irritated at your position. You were getting into none of the action, but you knew how fast Rengoku and Zenitsu were moving by the back and forth teetering of the carts.

‘This train could topple at any moment, especially with all of this monstrous bulk. So, there’s no telling when it’ll--’ A shrill filled the air, disorienting you as the train of muscle crumpled up and fell right off the track. If it weren’t for the demon’s flesh and that Demon Slayer footwork, people onboard would have been seriously injured.

You checked those in your assigned cart and then where Zenitsu and Nezuko were. “Are you guys alright?”

“Mm, mm!” Nezuko nodded as you came over to the slightly slumped Zenitsu.

“Great!” You took him by the shoulders and started shaking him away. “Zenitsu? Zenitsu! Wake up!” He was still asleep, but he only incurred very few injuries as Nezuko had. “At least you two are alright. You really held your own, Nezuko. I’m a little jealous I didn’t get to help out much at all.”

Nezuko, no matter if tired or full of spunk, was just a beauty to look at. You understood why Zenitsu was so smitten with her though he feigned himself a well-groomed ladies man. She offered a soft sound as a response before she leaned up against you.

Parts of the demon’s body slowly faded from existence, leaving now broken windows with an open view to the outside. Rengoku stood over Tanjiro, instructing him as he laid on the ground. Nezuko picked up her brother’s scent and slowly headed outside. Zenitsu followed her sleepily as you grabbed a few people and exited yourself.

Suddenly, the earth shook and dust flew everywhere as something else landed unto the field. You couldn’t believe your own eyes! The aura spiked high as it circled around the tattoo-marked Upper Moon demon. The shine in those eyes were as hungry, monstrous, and devilish as their appearance.

In the blink of an eye, he was just moments away from striking Tanjiro. “Fire Breathing! Second Form! Rising Scorching Sun!” Rengoku’s quick thinking saved him. “I don’t understand why you’d target a wounded person.”

“I thought he’d just get in the way between you and me.”

You froze. You had never seen a demon so fast like this one. It was just as scary as that time in Asakusa. The aura you ingested made you run on instinct, quelling the thoughts of fear or nervousness.

This one looked too toxic. You’d be sick for days. Not to mention, this demon only had eyes for Rengoku.

“You and I have something to talk about? It’s our first time meeting and I already hate you.” Rengoku replied.

“Is that so?” Akaza mused. “I really hate weak humans,” in terms of Tanjiro and others, “When I look at weaklings, I just feel disgusted.”

“It looks like you and I have different moral values in regards to things.”

“I see. Then I have a wonderful proposal. How about you become a demon, too?”

“No chance.” Rengoku declined.

“I know your strength just by looking at you. You’re a pillar, right?” Akaza’s interest in Rengoku shined through his symbolic eyes. “Your battle spirit is quite polished. You’re getting close to Supreme Territory.”

“I am the Fire Hashira, Rengoku Kyōjurō.”

“And I’m Akaza.”

They both exchanged names but withheld their stances. Akaza came to kill and eat any humans as well as convert the strongest ones into those he could. However, no matter the strength, Rengoku was defiant in every sense of the matter when it came to slaying demons and protecting the weak who could not fight for themselves.

But you weren’t out of the clear, however. “Ah, seems like I have a two for one deal.” To your chagrin, the demon noticed you next. “Why don’t you consider becoming a demon, too?” He saw your spirit as well, one with potential of being his punching bag. “As a demon, you can become stronger. That wonderful sword style of yours will keep on improving and we can fight forever! Otherwise, you’ll never reach Supreme Territory and do you know why?”

Silence.

“Because you’re human. Because you’ll grow old. Because you’ll die.” Akaza pointed his finger at Rengoku. “Become a demon, Kyōjurō. You can train for a hundred years. Two hundred years. You can become stronger.”

His face grew dark as he pointed at the likes of everyone in the vicinity, truly disgusted by what he saw before him. Rengoku looked none too pleased with you inserted into the situation. ‘Don’t worry, _____. I will protect you, the children, everyone! Nobody here will die or turn into a demon while I still stand!’ He felt overprotective over you, and found it fit to fulfill his duty not only as a demon slayer, but as a man.

Rengoku couldn’t stand that look of dread and worry filling your eyes. “Growing old and dying is the beauty of the fleeting creature called a human being. Because they grow old. Because they die. They are tremendous. Lovable. What they call ‘strength’ isn’t a word that is used in regards to the body.” He wouldn’t let Akaza spout such untrue words. “This boy isn’t weak. Don’t insult him. I’ll say it over and over again. You and I have different moral values.” His sunset eyes widen menacingly. “No matter what kind of motivation I have, I will not become a demon.”

“I see.” Akaza stanced. “Technique Deployment. Destructive Kill: Compass Needle!” Akaza prepared to fight. “If you won’t become a demon, then I’ll kill you!”

Air waves and flames lit up the area as both Rengoku and Akaza moved at blinding speeds. Pillar versus Upper Moon. You were stuck in place, unable to move. The sudden gravity of the situation skyrocketed and your body froze. Your breath shifted, becoming uneven and quick.

“DON’T MOVE!! If your wounds open, it’ll be fatal! Standby, soldier!!”

Rengoku’s serious voice brought you back, but he demanded no one interfered. Inosoke, who stood at Tanjiro’s side, felt helpless.

It was an explosion of power that erupted, and emerging from the dusty cocoon was an unscathed, healed Akaza and a battered Rengoku. “Kyōjurō…?” His blood-soaked uniform recalled his humanity, his mortality. You were in a state of distress.

Akaza praised him, and employed the idea of becoming a demon, where all his wounds, his crushed eye, and his organs would heal in moments. He’d become stronger, faster, and more powerful than before, but the answer was still no.

Rengoku raised his blade and stared on with a dazzling, one-eyed smile. “I will fulfill my duties! I won’t let anyone die here!”

“You really should become a demon so that we can fight for all eternity!”

“Full Focus Breathing. Flame Breathing. Esoterica. Ninth Style: Purgatory!”

“Technique Deployment. Destructive Kill: Obliteration Style!”

They clashed in one final blow, and the results after the dust cleared terrorized you with your unknown and worst fears.

Akaza punched through Rengoku who held his blade upright. It was but a second before he tightened his grip and slashed at Akaza’s neck which surprised the demon. Rengoku, even as death approached him, remained resilient as he caught Akaza’s other hand, tightened his innards around his arm, and dug his blade further across. As the demon screamed for release, Rengoku screamed for his defeat.

“INOSUKE, MOOOOVE!!! MOVE FOR RENGOKU-SAN!!!”

Tanjiro’s shout broke you from your shock. Opportunity to strike was now or never. At the speed they ran, they wouldn’t reach Akaza as he struggled for release as the sun was due to rise.

‘Full Focus Breathing. Fire breathing. First form: Unknowing Fire!’

It was a split second decision that made all the difference, and thanks to Inosuke. As Akaza panicked upon seeing Inosuke preparing to jump, Akaza suddenly felt weightless below. ‘What? My legs!’

Inosuke stopped just in time, leaving the final slash to Rengoku who pushed with all of his might and brought his searing blade through Akaza’s neck.

“You sneaky bit— oh no! The sun! I have to go, I have to— AHHHH!!”

Dawn broke over the horizon and Akaza’s body disintegrated.

“Kyōjurō!” You helped him to his knees, seeing the condition that he was in. “You’re hurt. Maybe if we can get you bandaged up, we can—”

“I’m sorry, My Sunflower. My stomach won’t close. I will die very soon.” He turned and addressed Tanjiro. “Kamado, my boy. Let’s have a final chat.”

Tanjiro ran over, huffing as tears stained his cheeks. “Rengoku-san, don’t talk too much! Help will be here soon. Just hold on!”

“Just listen to me. Return to the Rengoku Estate. There should be notes about the ‘Dance of the Fire God’. My father read them many times. I didn’t read them myself, however, so I don’t know what’s inside them. And for the both of you, tell Senjuro to pursue the path that he thinks is right, as his heart tells him to. And tell my father to take care of his body. And also...” He leaned in. “Kamado, my boy, I believe in your sister. I accept her as a member of the Demon Slayers.”

Droplets of water dripped from Tanjiro’s big eyes.

“I saw that girl protect the humans inside the train despite bleeding out. Those that protect humans and fight demons are Demon Slayers, no matter what anyone else says. Live with your chest high. You, Hashibira, Golden Boy, and her will become great pillars.” His attention finally landed on you.“My Sunflower.” He weakly raised his blood-smeared hand, touching your cheek. “Never give up. I will be watching over you.”

Rivers flowed down your desolate face. “Wait for me over the bridge when I cross. And meet me in the next life.” You found his hands and held them in yours. “I-I l-” Words became lost as you choked on every letter, unable to contain the sadness corrupting your mind and heart.

It hurt him to see you like this, and it devastated him more that he wouldn’t be able to comfort you and grow old together. “My life flashed before my eyes and my most wonderful memories were of you. Your warm smile, your touch, your praises, it makes me more determined than ever to be with you wherever we may go or be.”

The last thing he’d feel was your lips on his, stained with his blood. “I’ll never forget you, Kyōjurō!” You said with as much enthusiasm as you could. “I-I love you!”

Rengoku couldn’t help but to smile. “I love you, too, My Sunflower. Set your heart ablaze. . .”

“And move forward.”

Rengoku peered past you and Tanjiro, spotting a familiar shape. ‘Mother?’ You and Tanjiro looked back but saw nothing. But an enveloping aura past you two and surrounded Rengoku. ‘Did I do everything right? Was I able to fulfill everything I was supposed to carry out?’

‘You did a wonderful job.’ A smile to him, a smile to her, and his head drooped. His body rested peacefully in your arms and his fiery aura dispersed as it was no more.

‘Kyōjurō!’ You were too choked up as you sobbed loudly and ugly. Your heart ached just like it had when your parents were eaten by demons.

Your world darkened, stained in your tears and his blood. What was this victory worth now that he was gone?

It was worth every saved life here, and you knew that. It was going to weigh on your heart how you didn’t help him sooner, but his face discouraged you. He took the brunt of Akaza’s assault and held on until the very end.

You mourned over him from that day and weeks later. No one had seen you since the Mugen Train incident. Rengoku had done so much to keep everyone safe, taking his last breath on the battlefield. It had been a hard pill to swallow, one that you had not fully been accepting of even though you were there to see him off.

Tanjiro, Inosuke, Zenitsu, and Nezuko missed seeing you around. And especially Senjuro, but you needed to separate yourself and become better. You were no use to anyone lying on your back and crying your eyes out.

With the Nichirin blade in your possession, you carried on silently with a memory of him attached at your hip. His haori? Cleaned, pressed, and framed on the wall. For as long as you lived, his legend would be immortalized. On your shoulders, you carried the burden of loss. Sometimes, it’d hurt so much, your chest would heave and you’d clutch part of your left breast, where the pain ran deep as tears stung your eyes.

You left Senjuro with a kind yet sad smile as you didn’t want to hear the ugly mutterings of his father’s distant, drunk voice. His aura dripped in a drab blue, his melancholy nature surely melting at the loss of not only his wife but now his eldest son.

You hadn’t forgotten about those you loved. You’d be back for them. - - - - - - - - - - Chapters: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII (Part 1) / (Part 2) / (Part 3)

#rengoku kyojuro x reader #rengoku x you #rengoku x reader #rengoku kyōjurō #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic

44 notes · View notes