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#just glad they/y'all were here in the first place

commonwealthoccurences · 8 months

Note

im aro (who just has a weakness for your fics which is peculiar for me bc reader inserts don't normally interest me but yours oof hits just the right spot) and i have an intense discomfort for valentine's day so i have almost every varient of it blacklisted. unfortunately, that means tumblr hides your nick valentine fics which i find both funny and annoying lmaoo however it does somewhat help me bc when i actually catch the 'post hidden bc blacklist' im like !!!!! oh shit!!! time to catch up and i binge read including going back to some of my faves ahahah

anyways this ask was just to say hi keep being amazing i love your work and i hope that life treats you as kindly as you treat your readers!!!!! 💛

Ohhhh this is so lovely!! I'm glad that you enjoy my writing and I'll definitely make a note to put out more platonic stuff in the future for all of my aro followers (: It's too bad about the tag thing I didn't even think of that! Unfortunately, I'm not sure there's any way for me to work around it otherwise I definitely would. But I'm glad you find your way back here when you can and enjoy what I write (which, I will fully admit other than BTE, is few and far between nowadays). This blog and anons like you have been invaluable as writing for fo4 and getting feedback on my writing has helped me build my writing skills for my original works and I hold my original project very close to my heart. In a roundabout way, y'all have helped me out with it, and I try to give as much love back to everyone who reads my fanfic in return (: I hope you have a lovely rest of your day!! (And don't worry about your other ask, no offense was taken and I definitely agree on the way that games like fo4 can function as character or player inserts (: )

#Anon friends #zero talks #sometimes i worry that when im gone for long stretches of time #people will see themselves out when they realize they still follow me #which is totally understandable and i hold no grudge or negative feelings #just glad they/y'all were here in the first place #but seeing people still enjoying my writing even when i can't be around often cause of life stuff means a lot #i've debated doing life updates occasionally so y'all know I'm still thinking of this blog but don't have time to be here and that i haven'#shut things down #but thankfully with BTE being semi-frequent i haven't felt the need to in a good minute #im going to try my hardest to make time especially for this blog during university bc i don't want to lose all of my hobbies #but my education is very important to me and i have high standards for myself so we'll see lol

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coldfanbou · 3 months

Text

More Than A Bath

I mixed things up a little with a soapland theme. I hope y'all enjoy

Length 2.7K

Nako x Mreader X Kazuha

You look up at the sign and take a deep breath. There were murmurs that she worked here, but you didn’t think it was true. You click your phone and check the time: 10 pm. The shop is supposed to be open now. You walk up to the door and step inside. The front room was decorated in such a way that it looked like a casino. To your left was a man behind the counter wiping it down. “Welcome! I haven’t seen your face before. Is it your first time here?”

You nod your head, “It is.”

“Welcome to the Royal Flush. We offer great relaxation for men after a long day's work. We have a few options here, starting at thirty minutes and going up to two hours. That said, you can extend it up to another two hours.” The man motions to a blank board behind him before turning around. “My apologies; I forgot to turn this thing on. Just a moment.” He goes under his desk, flicking a button, causing the screen to light up with pictures of women on playing cards. You couldn’t see anyone who looked like her, though. He motions to the screen. “As you can see, we have many ladies available to help you. You can choose any one of them for your time here. Or if you’re feeling lucky, you can play the roulette.”

“What’s the roulette?”

“I’m glad you asked, sir. The roulette is a wheel that gives you the chance to get two women for the price of one and even enables some that are usually reserved for special customers. The price to play is a little higher than choosing from the board, but if you hit the jackpot, you get two women for four hours. At worst, you’re paying a little more for our basic thirty-minute service, but at best, you’ll have the best night of your life. All you have to do is predict the space the ball will land in. What would you like, sir?”

You consider the chance the rumors were true, and she was just for special customers. “I choose the roulette.” After taking your money, the man smiles and asks you for a number. You choose the number she had ended up with on the show, six. The screen behind the man changes to a roulette wheel, and he begins the game. The ball on-screen moves around the roulette wheel, and while you don’t have high hopes for getting it right, you hope you’ll at least get something good.

As the ball begins to slow down, you see it coming up on your number. Time slows down as the ball approaches the number six spot and swings past it one more time before coming around again. The ball loses momentum as it hits one of the ball deflectors, and miraculously, it plops into the six slot. The man smiles at you, “How rare.” He says, a slight amusement in his voice. “Congratulations, sir, you’ve hit the jackpot. You’ll be allowed to choose two women to help you relax and choose from our special menu. That being said, not everyone is in, so you’ll have limited choices.” The screen behind the man changes again to show different women than before, and immediately, you spot her. Nako was working here. You continue to look at the boar, seeing other idols on it. Some of them greyed out to show they were unavailable.

“How do you get them to come when they’re so busy with other activities?”

“They need to relax too. All things considered, they come here pretty often. So who would you like?” You look back at the board, seeing other Japanese idols like Twice’s J-line and members of Le Sserafim.

“I’d like Nako and Kazuha.”

“Great choices. Here is your room number. They’ll be there in a moment. You may take the elevator to the top floor.” You give the man a nod and head to your room. Thoughts run through your mind. You never expected to find out that idols would work at some place like this. You hadn’t even considered what you would do now that you were faced with meeting Nako and Kazuha.

When you get to your room, you tap the card the man gave you and step inside. It was a fully furnished apartment on the inside. You walk further in, seeing the view from your floor. You could see block after block of the city from your room. Wanting to look at the other rooms, you first come across the bathroom; poking your head inside, you see the usual inflatable you had seen in porn and notice the giant bath behind it. The floor was all tile, with a drain in the corner of the room. You check the other side of your room, seeing it was just a bedroom. Checking through the dressers, you notice sex toys and condoms, among other things.

You hear a small beep from the front and head back to the living room to see Nako and Kazuha standing there. What’s immediately noticeable is their lack of clothing. Both are wearing just their bra and panties, only after you notice their hair being up. You gulp, nervous and unable to say a word. They give you a small smile and wave, obviously used to being seen in their state. Nako takes the lead, walking up to you and wrapping her around your back. “Take good care of us.” She says, her head on your chest. She shines a smile your way before letting you go.

Kazuha pats the short woman’s bottom, “Would you like to get started, sir?”

“I would.”

“This way, then.” Kazuha grabs your arm, pressing it against her modest breasts as she leads you to the bath. Nako grabs your other arm. Kazuha turns the water on for the bath, and the pair begin to strip you down, working quickly.

“Oh, look at this.” Nako teases as she pulls down your pants. Your bulge was obvious to everyone. She runs her small hands along it before kneeling and rubbing her face against it. “Ah, it’s been so long. Kazuha, aren’t you excited?” She says, looking at the younger woman. She grabs Kazuha’s hand, placing it on your crotch. “It’s big, huh?” Kazuha’s cheeks turn red, and she looks away from you, embarrassed. “Let’s get these off.” Nako tugs at your underwear until it finally comes off, your cock smacking her forehead. She’s stunned for a second but quickly laughs it off. Her small hand struggles to wrap itself around your shaft. “You are big!” She exclaims with a huge smile on her face. You groan as she strokes your shaft. While Nako plays with your cock, Kazuha takes off the little clothing she has, unhooking her bra and tossing it near the door before stepping out of her panties. Your attention quickly returns to Nako as you feel her tongue running back and forth over your cock.

“Ah, Nako.” You moan, feeling your knees get weak from the sudden pleasure. She giggles before continuing.

“We should get you in the bath,” Kazuha says as she strips Nako of her bra. “Don’t you think that’s a good idea, Nako?” Nako has a slight frown on her face but agrees, letting you go to remove her panties. Kazuha leads you into the tub, stepping in to test the water. The tub was wide enough to comfortably fit the three of you, with Nako on one side and Kazuha on the other. The shorter woman couldn’t seem to keep her hands off you. She reached for your cock, stroking it slowly as she pressed her tits into your arm. Kazuha sees what Nako is doing and joins in, turning onto her side and cupping your balls as she drags her nipples along your arm. You’re eyes are glued to Nako as she steadily moves her hand along your shaft. She plants her lips on yours and speeds up. You grunt in response, struggling to do much else. Your hand wraps around Nako, squeezing her tit and making her moan. Her devilish smile grows as her grip on your shaft tightens. Kazuha begins to whisper into your ear as you focus on Nako. “You’ve got Nako wrapped around your finger. Did you know she’s on birth control? You can cum inside her all you’d like.” Kazuha’s sensual voice continues, “I’m on birth control too. I wouldn’t mind if you gave me a few creampies either.”

Your cock begins to twitch in Nako’s hand. “Don’t cum so quickly. We’re just getting started. Kazuha and I still need to wash your body. Maybe we should use the mat. You’d like that, right? It would mean we get to use our entire body.” You nod along and get out of the bath with Nako and Kazuha. They place you on the inflatable mat. Nako grinds on your leg, lightly moaning as she stares at your cock. Kazuha had gathered water and soap to clean your body before seeing Nako enjoying herself. She huffs and puts everything on the floor before getting behind the petite woman.

“Nako, you’re forgetting your job. We’re supposed to be making the customer feel good.” She says, grabbing Nako’s small breasts and squeezing them. The short woman throws her head back and moans.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Nako asks as she grinds on your leg. “I just need a little release.”

“Nako, you’re being a slut in front of our customer,” Kazuha responds, digging her fingers into Nako’s skin.

“I’m a slut. I’m a slut,” Nako cries. “I don’t think I can wait any longer.” She breaks free from Kazuha’s grip and moves up to your crotch, rocking against your cock. Nako quickly raises herself and slams herself onto your cock. You fill the room with moans as you cum as soon as you’re buried inside Nako. You’re not the only one, though, as Nako cums with you. Feeling your warm cum flood into her cunt, Nako slowly grinds against you as she moans. Nako moves her fingers along her clit, rubbing it in small circles. “Ah, so full. I feel so hot, Kazuha.” You feel Nako’s cunt milking your cock. She was tight, her walls squeezing you with a lot of force. Your eyes are glued to Nako, watching as she pleasures herself. You don’t notice Kazuha fingering herself as she watches Nako. She’s groping herself and pushing her fingers deeper into her cunt as Nako begins to move again. Nako leaves just the head inside before swallowing your cock in one movement. You stifle your moan while Nako lets hers fill the room. “You’re so big. Look here.” Nako says, pointing at a bulge. She presses on it; you grunt, realizing the bulge was because of you. Nako begins bouncing on your cock, moving at a steady pace as she gets used to your size. She holds your thighs and throws her head back as she moans, noticing Kazuha standing there.

“Come on, Kazuha, join us. You’ll be in heaven.” Nako says, humming in bliss as she slams herself down, moving her hips to please both of you. Kazuha gets beside you, taking one of your hands and moving it toward her now aching cunt. “No, Kazuha ride him.” Nako says as she continues to use you. Kazuha looks at you, her face bright red, before nodding. She silently positions herself over your face, trying to lower herself gently. She was taking a little too long for you, and you decided to pull her down. Your tongue pushes past her wet lips, diving inside her. You felt Kazuha squirm on top of you; she placed her hands on your chest as she let a river of moans flow out from her. “It feels good, doesn’t it? Just wait until this is inside you.” Nako tells her coworker as she rubs the bulge. Kazuha's breathing quickens as she feels your tongue lapping at her walls. She struggles to keep herself up. Nako sees her friend struggling and lifts Kazuha’s head before kissing her. “I love seeing you like this.” Nako seems almost drunk on the pleasure she’s receiving; she plays with Kazuha’s tit, attaching herself to her nipple and swirling her tongue around it.

You dig your hands into Kazuha’s waist, keeping her in place. She began to grind against your face, the pleasure making her go crazy. The pleasure from you and Nako was pushing her toward the edge. She started to whimper as she closed in on her climax. “I don’t want to…I don’t want to cum yet.” She whined as she came. Kazuha’s body twitched as she came, her body rocking uncontrollably. Nako smiled, loving the sight of Kazuha cumming on your face. You lap up her sweet nectar, making the younger woman shiver before she falls to the side.

“Can you give me a taste?” Nako asks as she leans in. You were more than willing to share, pushing your tongue into her mouth. You sat up and grabbed Nako’s waist. You held her for a moment before moving her up and down your shaft. She began to groan as you took control of her. You rammed every inch into Nako’s small body, enjoying as her cries of pleasure came more often and eventually turned into whines. “I’m going to cum. I’m- I’m cumming!” Nako screamed as you continued to use her. Your cock began to twitch inside her cunt, and you told her to get ready for another creampie. “F-fuck, do it cum in me,” Nako whined as you impaled her on your shaft and shot your cum into her. Nako’s walls clamped down around your cock, rubbing the head and making you want to go deeper. Your cum flooded Nako’s pussy, leaking out of her before you even pulled out. You take a good look at Nako, the blissful expression on her face, the drool running down her cheek as her mind goes.

Nako collapses on you, her cunt still squeezing your cock long after your orgasm ended. You lift her off and turn to Kazuha. She was face down on the floor, still recovering. Your eyes move down her smooth back until you notice her shapely bottom. You get behind her and stroke your cock, getting yourself ready for another round.

With your other hand, you grab Kazuha’s waist and lift her ass. You press your cock against her entrance and slowly push yourself inside the young woman. “Ah, you're stretching my pussy,” She groans weakly. Kazuha manages to get her arms under herself and push her face off the floor. She looks over her shoulder to see you pushing yourself inside. Kazuha’s walls welcomed you, snuggly wrapping around your cock as you rested inside her. You were close to cumming, sensitive from your last orgasm. Still, you pushed onward, beginning to thrust into the young woman, your pace picking up. You have to dig your fingers into Kazuha’s waist to keep her from moving. As you’re pounding away at her body, you can’t help but look at Kazuha’s beautiful ass; you pull back your hand and slam it into her soft ass. She yelps from the hit. A handprint begins to form because of the force used, but Kazuha begs you to do it again.

You drive your hand into her ass again. She moans this time, loving the pain. Nako comes around, lying on the inflatable mattress and looking at Kazuha. Her fingers playing with her clit as she watches. You’re getting turned on by having Nako watch you and begin to move faster, slamming yourself into Kazuha without a second thought. The young woman’s moans become louder, and her walls clamp down around your cock. You were both nearing your climax. You couldn’t hold it any longer and buried yourself inside Kazuha, filling her womb with your cum. Your orgasm triggered hers. As soon as she felt your thick cum fill her, Kazuha arced her back and came on your cock. You could hear Nako teasing Kazuha, but her words were muddled as you focused in on the image of Kazuha’s back.

When you start to regain yourself, you hear Nako’s voice. “We still have three hours, Kazuha. How are you going to last that long?” Nako pinched the younger woman’s cheeks. “Are you going to make me take him the whole time? I don’t mind, but you have to be professional.” Nako turns her attention to you. “Why don’t we head for the bedroom? We can take Kazuha with us. She loves watching.” You nod your head, ready to spend more time with Nako.

#kpop smut #male reader #m reader #izone smut #le sserafim smut #yabuki nako smut #kazuha smut

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matrixbearer2024 · 3 months

Text

Paws and Pixels: VoxPet™️

Tiny!Vox x Reader

A/N: Totally writing this thing because of a cute chat session I had with some wonderful people on a Hazbin discord server, it's a shitposty idea but it was a cute one so I couldn't help but write about it. A continuation to "Get off my Screen!" is in the works alongside some other requests too! I'm just glad it was received so well, thanks y'all!

A/N: Btw, the chibi Vox art isn't mine. I might draw something similar with a Y/N eventually though so message me or request it in my askbox if you wanna see it XD

You wished you could say it was a normal day.

But truth be told-

It was so far off from that.

The Vee tower was complete mess by the time you had arrived.

The place was often busy, you knew that much-

But to fall into complete disarray?

Your beloved would have never even allowed it.

Speaking of your lover, where the hell was he?

His absence left you more than puzzled, this was Vox you were talking about after all.

Mr. I-have-to-keep-an-eye-on-everything-or-it-all-entirely-goes-to-shit-

You couldn't say he was wrong this time however, walking towards the elevator with intent to find the other Vees.

But of course they ended up finding you first.

It was Velvette who abruptly dragged you away from the chaos in the office.

Not that you still quite understood what was going on and the reason for her urgency.

"WhaA- Vel??"

"Sorry darling, we've got a bit of an issue as you can clearly tell- but there's just something I absolutely must show you."

You didn't really even have time to ask questions before you saw Valentino rush past you.

Was he holding a phone in each hand?

He barely even greeted you in his hasty exit, probably too busy with the 4 phone conversations he was having simultaneously.

All this chaos and your boyfriend still hasn't shown up.

You started getting worried that something happened to him.

But what Velvette ended up showing you was definitely not at all what you expected.

Especially since you didn't expect to find Vox here of all places.

That and... he wasn't quite himself.

Not that you were complaining, but it was really weird seeing your boyfriend so tiny.

He was probably plushie-sized to be honest.

You would have found it cute if it weren't for the shock from everything else.

The tiny Vox visibly perked up when he saw you.

Was he beeping or squeaking?

"What... what the fuck even happened???"

"Do you want the whole story or a TLDR?"

While you lightly poked the smaller Vox that stood atop the table, Velvette quickly updated you on what had transpired before your arrival.

Apparently, Vox had gone and gotten himself in trouble with some goons earlier in the day.

It wasn't often Vox would get hurt by anything, he was an overlord after all-

But sometimes people got lucky or they really just ganged up on him in big numbers.

The good news was he won, the bad news was he'd gotten pretty beat up because of it.

Shattered screen, fried motherboard, stray wires, and a whole other myriad of issues to boot.

He'd come back to the tower needing a ton of repairs.

Problem was, he'd run out of the needed spare parts and his backup body wasn't in any good condition to be used either.

So go figure, your creative boyfriend decided to handle his situation in another way after he'd put in the order for said needed parts.

They'd probably arrive in just a few days but seriously-

You could only stare at the tiny version of your lover in bewilderment.

There was absolutely no understanding of what was running through this man's brain.

He was even wearing a miniature version of his typical outfit, coat and all!

"Soooo... has he just been in here the whole time?"

"Pretty much. He doesn't really talk either, Val and I haven't figured out if it's because he can't or won't."

"Oh lord."

You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose, patting the tiny Vox with your hands.

You honestly wanted to be more mad at the situation-

But Vox really just looked too cute.

You just wanted to freakin squeeze him-

"I'm gonna need a purse to carry him around..."

"Oh wow, you're treatin' 'im like a pet already."

You rolled your eyes at Velvette's comment, looking down at your currently tiny boyfriend to find him staring at you.

He had absolutely no business being this cute-

"I'm taking him home, I'd gather that you and Val can handle things here?"

"For the most part, just be a dear and make sure nothing else happens to 'im until his parts arrive."

You just rolled your eyes again.

Great way of stating the obvious Velvette.

Besides, Vox was still an overlord and the strongest of the Vees.

His powers shouldn't have been affected in this form right??

There was no way your beloved went ahead and made himself as harmless as he looked-

At least that's what you had hoped.

However, you picked him up in both hands- you were starting to doubt that.

Vox merely tilted his monitor head to get a better look at you before beeping, his legs dangled slightly from how you held him.

BEEPING AGAIN.

WHERE ARE YOUR WORDS FOOL-

"Huh, he's never made that sound before."

You were really starting to regret even walking into the building today.

And that was of course when your miniature boyfriend decided it was the perfect time to lightly zap you.

It didn't hurt, but it was enough for your attention to go back to him.

Only to see his face all pink with a bunch of hearts emoticons on it.

This little shit-

You really couldn't stay mad at him for long.

Eventually when you were able to get a grip on yourself, Velvette handed you a purse to put Vox in as requested- and you were on your way home.

What did the other Vees even expect you to do with Vox like this?

Did you accidentally become your boyfriend's babysitter??

Today was just way too tiring for you already.

You practically collapsed on the couch once you got home.

Dropping the purse with tiny lover in it on one of the nearby cushions, you didn't really care about the annoyed squeaking that came from inside the bag from the rough landing.

Vox just crawled out of the small purse with a huff.

He figured you would've liked him being all cute this way.

But judging by your reactions-

He couldn't tell if you liked it or hated it.

He did feel slightly bad seeing how tired you were though.

Practically waddling over towards you, Vox patted your head trying to get your attention.

When that didn't work he started beeping and squeaking until you raised your head and looked at him again.

And you were surprised when he awkwardly moved to hug you.

Well, hug your face rather.

The words: "I'm sorry." flashing on his tiny screen.

You sighed tiredly.

Even if he was a little infuriating at times, you still loved Vox's antics.

This one included.

"It's okay, I'm okay. Everything just happened way too fast."

A heart then appeared on his tiny screen face and you pretty much melted.

He was just too fuckin cute.

A/N: Might write a part 2 for this with other headcanons, this was so friggin adorable AHAHAHAHAHA

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #hazbin vox x reader #vox #vox x reader #vox x you #hazbin hotel vox x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader

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fangirl-dot-com · 3 months

Text

The Inheritance

Guys, I keep messing up the timeline. So here we go. Christian, Geri, and Mitch find out about Lorenzo and your parents disowning you at your last F2 race. Max finds out about Lorenzo in this chapter (although not written in detail). Max then finds out about your parents in chapter 18 “All For You.”

This is proof that I listen to my readers :D @dreamy-state-of-mind asked to see how reader bought her cars and this chapter was created! I can't do every ask for an idea but I try to listen to what y'all want!

Y'all are being fed...two chapters in a row (which means the next one won't be out for a little bit - so I apologize!)

Like always comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated! Enjoy!

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Your hands were in your pockets as you walked around the open room. You had somehow lost Max, Vito, AND Christian. It wasn’t like you meant to walk away, you just did on accident. How could someone know that the foreign car dealership was this big. Well, you would know, but that’s beside the point.

It was quite cold in Germany. Thankfully, you had packed extra layers, something the men seemed to not know how to do. You were sure that Max would have worn his Red Bull polo if you didn’t mention to Kelly where you were going. Sure, he could dress on his own, but who would want that?

Your eyes gazed at all of the cars on the floor. Most were the common stock models. Audis, Mercedes, and even Volkswagens littered the area; yet, the cars you were looking for were nowhere to be found. You kept heading in the same direction, hoping to at least find a familiar someone who looked like they worked there.

Your ears picked up on some German words. Feet taking faster steps, you rounded a corner. Ah, there they were.

Somehow you completely missed seeing that the Porsches would be in a different room. You gingerly stepped farther into the vast open-ceiling room. Your hand itched to touch them, but you knew better.

Looking at the cars brought back some great memories of the first time your godfather took you here. Yes, he could have gotten any Italian brand of car that he wanted. Everything was at his fingertips. Yet, he brought 11-year-old you to Germany to get his imported cars.

Your eyes landed on a familiar model. If you thought hard enough, you could hear the imprints of Lorenzo’s and your laughs as he took you to do donuts in abandoned parking lots.

“A beauty isn’t she,” a voice scared you, causing you to fall on your ass. Your cheeks burned at the thought of being caught. Yet, when your eyes met familiar friendly ones, the redness left.

“Hi Seb,” you greeted as you took his outstretched hand that he offered. He pulled you to your feet and into a hug. After you were done, you pulled away to turn back to the car. This time, you let your hand gently grace the older door.

“Enzo had one,” you simply stated, leaving it at that. Most knew you didn’t like to talk about the man, since it brough on so many emotional memories.

Sebastian took a couple steps and stood next to you.

“Do you still have the keys to the garage?”

You grinned up at the German ex-driver. “Of course I have the keys. You know he left me the entire house.”

He bumped your shoulder, head jerking to lead you away from the car. You followed without hesitation.

“What do you plan to do with it?”

You cocked your head in thought. “I’m going to keep it for now. I don’t want to sell it. It’s not like I need the money anyway.”

He chuckled. “I forget that you’re like a multi-millionaire at 20.”

You just shrugged. “Not my fault that I was basically his only family. I never asked for it.” Your eyes dropped to the shiny floor below. A hand was placed on your shoulder.

“I know. I’m glad that you’re well off. Makes me feel better about not seeing you as much.” A sad smile graced his face as he looked at you.

You tried your best to give him a genuine one in return. “I’m doing much better than I was.”

“Have you showed Max your vast array yet?”

“Nope.” You popped the ‘p’. “I plan to soon, actually. I told him that I needed to go to Italy after this.”

Seb raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything else. You went to talk, but familiar voices echoed in the big room.

“Kid!”

“Seb?”

Your head whipped toward the sound. Ah, there they were.

And they brought an assistant with them.

Max and Christian looked at Seb in question as Vito brought the German into a big hug. You stood toward the side to watch the two friends reunite. The assistant took this opportunity to approach you.

“Ah Miss L/n, so good to see you again!”

“Again?” Max questioned, looking at you.

The assistant turned to the Dutchman. “Yes. Miss L/n has been a patron at this establishment for years now.” He turned back to you. “I have the two models that you called ahead for. I will lead you to them.”

The man turned on his heal and began to walk deeper into the room.

Sebastian was now talking to Vito and Christian, which led to Max walking by you.

“I didn’t know you’d been here before.”

You looked up at him with a sly smile. “My godfather bought a lot of his cars from here and would take me with him. Some of the cars at the front are a part of his collection that I donated when he passed. He left me so many, I didn’t know what to do with them.”

Max stopped in his tracks as you kept walking. Once he got over his shock, he sped up to catch you.

“So many?”

You placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Maxie, how much money do you think I have?” you asked, an innocent look on your face.

“Couple thousand?”

You shook your head.

An eyebrow rose. “A couple hundred thousand?”

Another shake as a mouth dropped.

Max looked around before whispering, “Millions?”

“Bingo. We’re going to tour my house when we go to Italy.”

You kept on walking, leaving the even more confused Dutchman.

“House?”

A few steps more and you had caught up with the group of four men. Christian whistled at the sight of what lie before him.

“Thank you Mr. Klein,” you shook the assistants hand as you looked at the two dark green cars in front of you. “Did the payment go through well?”

The man nodded. “Yes it did. Mr. and Mrs. Fischer send their best regards and also thank you for the donation.”

The four men (minus your manager) gawk at you. Yet, you were too busy beaming.

“I’m so glad. Tell them that I will reach out the next time I’m here for longer. I want to see their children again, I miss them.”

With a couple more goodbyes, weird stares, and going over plans to ship your Porsches to Monaco and England safely – you were on your way to Italy.

Thankfully Sebastian wanted to join, saying something about how he hadn’t seen the house in forever. Which brought on more questioning looks from Max.

However, Christian had to sadly say goodbye as he had a connecting flight to go somewhere else for business. You promised you’d send some pictures when you could.

A chauffer had met you at the airport, names written in fancy calligraphy on a starch white piece of paper.

The man gave you two cheek kisses as you greeted him.

“Guido! Come stai amico mio?” (how are you my friend?)

Max couldn’t wipe the look off his face as you began to talk to the older gentleman in perfect Italian. Vito only patted his shoulder.

“You’ll get used to it. She’s definitely someone to unravel. You’ll get there.”

The four of you then followed the man to the Rolls Royce that was waiting in the parking area. Suitcases were loaded in, and the three of you were on your way to your house.

Or, more like mansion/estate/castle that Max found out as the car pulled closer. He turned to you.

“Kid?”

“Inheritance Max. Inheritance.”

Your door was opened once the car was parked. Multiple people came out of the house, wanting to greet you.

“La mia famiglia! Mi siete manvati tutti!” (My family! I’ve missed all of you!”)

A couple of the staff took your bags as you walked through the giant doorway. Once you were through, you turned around and opened your arms.

“Max, welcome to Casa di Lorenzo Alessandrino.”

Max’s head was in a state of looking upwards as he walked in. He would have held his mouth open, but the interior seemed to demand respect as power and poise dripped from its walls. Now it was turn for Max’s hands to itch, wanting to touch everything.

Once everything was settled, you gave Max a tour as Vito and Seb went to go get some drinks. Your fingers twirled a special key ring as you led Max to your garage.

You turned to him and gave a smile. “You ready?”

Let’s just say, Max was not ready to see so many cars. Max let his jaw drop.

The garage was deep and long, probably housing close to 40-ish cars. Your eyes glimmered as you looked at the older cars that you missed dearly.

“You can go look you know,” you told Max as you made your way down the little staircase to the floor. Your heels clicked and echoed with each step. Max was quick to be on your tail. The Dutchman made his way quickly to each car, stopping for only a second before getting distracted by the next.

You hummed as you looked at the empty spot among the Ferrari’s on the back wall. You pointed to it when Max came up beside you again.

“The only car Lorenzo never had in his collection was the F40. I need to talk to Charles or Carlos about seeing how I can get one ethically. I want to complete the collection, but not pay far more than what it’s worth.”

Max nodded, soaking in your words. He was about to say something, but a flash of orange caught his attention. His eyes sparkled as he looked at the spaceship looking car.

“What kind of car is that?”

You smirked as you gazed on your most prize possession.

You walked closer and clicked the keys, making the car roar to life only for a second. (You don’t want to give you and Max monoxide poisoning.)

Your hand ran over the orangey hues that covered the car.

“This is the Apollo Project Evolution.”

Max looked down at the hyper car.

“What that a V12?”

“Yep. A Ferrari V12 to be exact. Three million dollars, one in ten made, over 700 horsepower, and completely street legal. I’d take you for a ride, but I would rather keep this between me and whoever knows about it.”

You turned on your heel to start walking toward the door where you walked in. “I bought it because it reminded me of the spaceship from Guardians of the Galaxy.”

Max snickered as he could imagine you at 14-years-old, watching that movie and falling in love with the space craft. Then, he imagined you last year, trying to find out how you could get your hands on it.

He took one last glance at the big room, before following you back into the house. He softly shut the big door behind him.

“Does Arthur know about this place?” he asked as he caught up to you, not wanting to get lost.

You softly smiled at him. “Yes. I brought him here after Lorenzo passed away in 2020. I just didn’t want to be alone. Vito was here as well.”

Max returned your sad smile. You and Vito had told him about the place on your way here. Tears were shed, hugs were given out, but you’d get through it.

But then he suddenly pouted at the thought of you not bringing him here earlier.

You tutted. “Don’t worry, Charles hasn’t been here if that’s what you’re pouting about.”

That brought an instant grin to his face. You rolled your eyes at his childishness. Soon, you joined Vito and Sebastian in the kitchen. Aperol Spritzes lined the kitchen counter. Your hand reached one, before Vito was thrusting an different one into your hands. You pouted when you realized that yours was probably nonalcoholic.

Sebastian snorted. “Let the kid have one.”

“Vito, what do you think they do for podiums? Make sure mine isn’t actual champagne?”

Vito rolled his eyes and handed you one from the kitchen counter. You quickly smiles and took a sip of the bubbly drink.

“So kid, did you show Max the garage?” Sebastian raised an eyebrow as he took a sip of his own drink.

You nodded as you placed your cup down. “Yep!”

“And the track?”

“You have a track!?”

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 glad to be back to my home away from home. Italia, quanto mi sei mancato. conserverai sempre ricordi preziosi e non posso ringraziarti abbastanza per amarmi da bambino. quando tornerò sarò sul podio, ne sono sicuro

(translation : italy how i've missed you. you will always hold precious memories and i can't thank you enough for loving me as a child. when i return, i'll be on the podium - i'm sure of it)

liked by sebastianvettel, vito_official, y/nlover, and 58,204 others

y/n's_fav who was going to tell me that our girl knows Italian?

y/n_updates she speaks it fluently! her godfather was Italian and taught her when she was growing up! y/n_on_top all I'm hearing is that her, Carlos, and Charles can now talk shit about Max if needed

charles_leclerc quindi Max non riesce a capire? (so max can't understand?)

y/n.89 no, quindi è ora di svelare i segreti dell'infanzia, Charlie (no, so spill the childhood secrets Charlie) carlossainz55 abbiamo molto da dire (we have a lot to tell) maxverstappen1 I CAN READ MY OWN NAME - I KNOW YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT ME y/n.89 senti qualcosa? (do you hear something?)

vito_official così felice di essere a casa. possiamo restare ancora un po'? Guido e Luigi dicono che gli manchiamo troppo (so glad to be home. can we stay a bit longer? Guido and Luigi say they miss us too much)

y/n.89 mi mancheranno così tanto. torneremo presto! (i'll miss them so much. we'll be back soon!)

sebastianvettel glad to have been able to go with you! I'll see you soon kinder!

y/n_in_italy NOT HER HOUSEKEEPERS'S NAMES BEING GUIDO AND LUIGI

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen-ln4 @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @v1naco @stan-josie @mellowarcadefun @badassturtle13 @beskardroids @callisposts @poppyalice2001 @juniper-july19

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leonsbimbogf · 4 days

Text

i still adore you, I swear

🍃! Plug! Miguel x Fem! reader !🍃

A/n: guys i was mf arching my back and typing this out on my laptop n I'm so glad ppl like the first one I rlly appreciate itt pookies! also I had to crop some of this out cause my man was full on arching his BACKK but credits to JesGreenEight for this banner!!!

cw/smut warning: pure smut, Miguel being a freaky man, weed, shitty ending bc y'all KNOW i'm absolute dog dookie at writing them, creampie, oral (m receiving), somewhere in it I said that reader has a bad reflex and I'm so sorrayy.

So now here you are, smoking a joint with your plug. The harsh yet sweet aroma of weed filled his room. He passes the joint back to you letting you take a rip. You cough a little from the smoke clouding your lungs but still manage to have a smile. You pass the joint back to him without a word. Breaking the silence Miguel spoke in an almost slurred tone.

“I know it’s not the weed speaking but has anyone told you you're so attractive, ma?” His veiny hand finds your thigh before rubbing the flesh without knowing. You immediately snicker as you answer back in a flirty tone.

“Hmm no Miggy they haven't” he trails his hand closer and grips your inner thigh while chuckling, you two were just on the moon. He replies to your comment after taking a hit.

“Honestly I should show you how attractive you are to me.” your eyes widened at his statement but you were intrigued at most. The way his shirt hugged him, the way you can see his cock print through his sweatpants. It was all so feverish. He comes closer to you with his lips up to your neck making the hair stand up practically.

“You smell so good.” he finally says before placing kisses on your neck making you moan. His kisses go lower to your chest. He takes off your shirt revealing your skin to him. He instantly kisses your neck now having his hands on your waist, pulling you closer. The smell of weed and anticipation is clouding the room. Your panties are already soaked from when he first called you attractive. Before you know it he speaks in an entertaining tone.

“How about you taking it out for me?”

You instantly pull down his pants and his underwear. His cock bounces to his stomach before standing back up. His cock was decorated with some hair. Your breath caught in your throat after realizing how hot it was. You knew it was wrong but it felt so damn good, you can say that.

He puts the palm of his hand on your cheek as he rubs your bottom lip with his thumb, he looks down at you with love in his eyes. Were you always this pretty?

“Look at those pretty lips.”

he says in an admiring tone. You faintly smile before giving a couple of kitten licks and then actually putting your whole mouth on the tip.

“You like that?” You mumble out on his cock. Miguel could’ve just came right then and there. He saw how sexy you looked with your soft lips wrapped around his cock like a glove.

“There you go” he muttered under his breath. You push your head deeper onto his cock but you choke on it due to your horrible gag reflex. You pull back with a saliva string pulling with you.

“Hmm, Miguel..”

you say, slurring your words a bit. You were cockdrunk from him.

“You did such a good job, didn’t you? m’ so proud baby.” He spoke out while looking down at you. He breaks the moment of silence by saying.

“Think you can bend over for me mami?” He says before stroking his cock. You bend over to feel his huge hands grabbing and kneading the fat of your hips and pulling your pants down. He gasps and chuckles when he sees your panties with a wet spot making it noticeable. “I see you getting wet for me.” He says.

He pulls your panties to the side to see your plump lips soaked It just looks like you wanted to get fucked by him. He knows what you need, Just let him guide you. Suddenly you feel his fat mushroom tip lay on your clit.

“Are you ready bunny?” He just makes you feel mushy inside even if he’s saying simple things. You nod your head before preparing for his cock. He shoves his tip in, You whimper as you can feel being stretched out by his thick tip.

“Awhh shit. Your pussy’s huggin’ around me.” He moans out. He can even admit that your pussy did make him moan and groan. He has fucked many girls but they all just felt like he had to do it. With you, it feels special.

“Hmm, M-miggy..please move..” you moan. Your moans sounded pornographic. He bucks his hips into you while grunting.

“Ah this pussy got superpowers or somethin’ hm?” He jokes before smacking your plump ass. He loves the way it jiggles when he smacks it even lightly.

“God d-damn.” You manage to yelp out. He thrusts deeper into your pussy. “Fuck you're gonna make me cum. Can’t believe I have your cute ass under me.”

After minutes of moaning and groaning, you feel a full feeling. His cum sprays inside your cunt and you feel it Immediately fill your cunt up. When he pulls out his soft cock you can feel you can feel his cum leak out of your cunt.

“Your mine got it? my stock is coming soon but you're mine from now on,” he says hugging you to the bed and holding you fairly close to him. You feel butterflies roam around your stomach when you see his hand on your lower waist. Before you even spoke you heard his snores filling the room. You giggle quietly at the fact that he fell asleep in a second.

and here's to my taglist ( ◜‿◝ )♡: @moon-rivr @monstera02 @lazyjellyfish300 @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @yournextbimbogf @chiwhorei

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here2bbtstrash · 2 years

Text

the shape of your body (explicit)

genre: fluffy slowburn smut

pairing: jimin x reader

summary: the same day you finally manage to speak to your months-long public transit crush, you end up seeing much more of him than you bargained for.

word count: 24k 🙇‍♀️

contains: explicit sexual content~*~ (after a slow burn lmao) - new york city grad school AU, strangers to lovers, reader is an art student, public transit thirsting, jimin is a dancer and a nude model, namgi and vhope as side characters, basically everyone is gay (they're ART STUDENTS in NEW YORK CITY it's called realism 💅), a smidge of member x member side character relationships, jimin is biromantic demisexual 👀, conversations about body image issues/past relationship struggles/demisexuality and libido, soooo much making out, a couple "failed attempts" at sex, accidental voyeurism (but not how you think lmao YOU'LL SEE), showering together non-sexually, and: fingering, clit stim, nipple play, come eating/sharing 🤭 an attempted blowjob, face sitting, & protected sex (multiple rounds 🥵)

A/N: asjdshgkdfjgs i can't believe it's done 😭 there were so many times i thought i would never finish this fic !!! i have too many friends to thank for talking me off of SEVERAL ledges where i was convinced this whole thing was trash and that i should just stick to short porn or perhaps simply never write again. i'm so glad i saw this one through because there are concepts in here that are deeply important and personal to me wehhh 🫠 i sincerely hope y'all enjoy this one!! thank u for enduring mostly radio silence while i was in jimin lockdown, and of course, happy early birthday to mini, the light of my mf life 🥰💜 (oh and LDOMLT ch 8 is coming next so buckle tf up bitches 👀)

an eternity of smooches to @haliiimede for beta reading and just generally being the best fucking person on planet earth ✨ AND TO @goodsoop FOR THE DEMI SENSITIVITY READ VERY SORRY THAT I AM THE WORLD'S LARGEST IDIOT AND FORGOT TO CREDIT..... i love you both 🥺

read on AO3!

~*~

You’ve taken the subway thousands of times since moving to New York.

Morning rides, squeezed nearly to death between commuters in suits blinking back sleep and school-uniformed kids scream-laughing and paper coffee cups gripped tight by winter-numb fingers.

Long trips with your sketchbook on your lap, riding the line all the way to Pelham Bay Park and back, to surface above ground out where there’s a little more space to breathe, until the setting sun floods orange glow between the buildings just before you descend again.

Late nights coming home, Namjoon’s head thudding back against the train window behind him as he dozes off, one arm thrown around your shoulder to ward off any drunk creeps, his free hand interlaced with Yoongi’s on his other side.

It’s always been the three of you, first in friendship, and now that the two of them have figured out they’re something more, you don’t mind it. But when it’s late and you’ve had enough drinks to feel warm all the way through, to melt something open inside of you, and you glance over to see a loving flicker of eyelashes exchanged as Namjoon leans down and presses a kiss to Yoongi’s temple, you can’t help it.

There’s a little bit of an ache there, right behind your ribs. Sometimes.

But mostly, when it comes to the train, you take the 6 to school. You go through the motions this morning the same as you always do: headphones around your neck, bag slung over your shoulder, immediately dropping into the first empty seat you see as the train doors shudder closed and the car starts to move. Six stops down, 51st street to Astor Place, five days a week, you know it like a heartbeat.

You just wish you knew him, too.

Subway Boy, as Yoongi affectionately labeled him the time you got two pitchers of margaritas deep and made the mistake of confessing to your roommates about your crush— if it can even be called that. Can you truly have a crush on someone you know nothing about, not even their name?

Well, you know a few things.

He must live further north than you, because on the days you see him, he’s already on the train when you board at 51st.

He must like music, because he always has a set of fancy bluetooth earbuds in.

You’re pretty sure he’s an athlete of some sort, because he’s usually carrying a gym bag—and because during this summer’s heat wave, the one and only time you’ve seen him wear shorts, you nearly fainted at the thick, defined muscles of his thighs.

He has an affinity for jewelry, delicate silver always glinting through the multiple piercings in his ears. At odds with this, he seems to prefer to dress comfortably, and you’ve seen him in enough branded school t-shirts and sweats to figure he must also be an NYU student, though you can’t say for sure if he’s undergrad or graduate.

You deeply hope you’re not crushing on someone who still needs a fake ID to drink, but there’s no way to be certain.

Most importantly, you know that he is absolutely stunning. Elegantly handsome, with expressive deep brown eyes, skin like glass, and round cheeks and full lips that flush frozen pink on particularly frigid New York days. His hair has changed colors a few times over the months that have passed since you first took notice of him, but it’s currently a honey blonde, and long enough that he often reaches up to card a hand through it. He does it now, pushing loose strands back to expose his forehead as he frowns down at his phone.

On days where you share the same car, you notice very little else that happens on the ride, thoroughly entranced in Subway Boy’s beauty and his mystery. The train could probably catch fire and you’d miss it entirely.

Today happens to be one of those days, and excitement glitters in your bloodstream as you realize he’s seated across from you. The rush of seeing him always feels like its own reward, some kind of cosmic sign that the day is going to be a good one.

And then the train stops moving.

There’s an audible reaction from a few people in the car, and you glance up a moment later when a voice buzzes over the intercom. You’re able to make out “attention passengers” and very little after that, just the basics about some sort of unforeseen interruption of service and that the train should resume moving again soon.

You sigh, knowing very well that the MTA’s definition of ‘soon’ does not often align with typical human expectations. Figuring you’ve got some time to kill, you reach into your bag to retrieve your sketchbook and the first pencil you can dig out of the bottom.

“What did they say?” A voice, quiet and deep, surprises you before you can even flip to your in-progress page.

You glance up to find Subway Boy staring at you, forearms braced on his knees as he leans forward into the gap between his seat and yours. He’s got one bluetooth earbud pinched between his fingertips and a confused look on his face, having clearly missed the announcement.

Heat floods your face at the feeling of his eyes fixed on you, and it takes you a second to form a response. “Uh— I didn’t get most of it. Something about unforeseen interruption. And that we’ll be moving again soon.”

A muscle works in his jaw as he rolls his eyes. “Typical.”

“I don’t think they know what ‘soon’ means,” you murmur, mostly to yourself as you tear your gaze away from Subway Boy and return to the sketchbook in your lap, rifling through to find your latest half-finished drawing. When you hear him huff a laugh, you have to bite down on the hopeful smile that threatens to shine across your face.

“Definitely not.”

You force yourself to keep your eyes on the page, assuming Subway Boy must go back to his music when he falls silent after his last comment.

With featherlight flicks of your pencil, you start to add a little depth to the quick study you were working on last night, Yoongi’s half-peeled tangerine that he left abandoned on the coffee table when he stepped out onto the fire escape for a smoke.

Subway Boy’s voice catches you off guard a second time. “Are you drawing?”

You bite down on your lip again, a nervous habit, and you nod as you tilt the page so he can see from across the car.

“Wow.” You wonder if you’re imagining the way his voice seems to soften a little. “You’re really good. Are you an artist?”

You can’t help it— your gaze flits up to meet his again. It’s nearly overwhelming to lock eyes with your Subway Boy and hear him compliment you, like something out of a wild daydream. “I guess so,” you remark, the corner of your mouth tugging up into a small smile as you say it. “I’ve certainly paid NYU enough money in my attempts to become one.”

“Know the feeling,” he scoffs, but his eyes smile back, pulled into crescent moons.

“What did you pay them for?”

“Currently, a dual MFA/MA in dance and… teaching dance. Really went all-in on the dancer thing.”

“Oh.” Your eyes widen automatically. You’ve wondered— and yes, occasionally drunkenly speculated with your roommates— what Subway Boy’s line of work might be, but you have no idea why dancer never occurred to you. Because now all the pieces suddenly fall together in front of you: the toned muscles that flex beneath the sleeves of his t-shirt, the natural grace he exudes, not to mention his perfect posture.

Of course he’s a dancer. It makes perfect sense.

It occurs to you, a beat too late, that a wide-eyed ‘oh’ is not the most normal response to a truly innocuous answer to a question asked of a random stranger.

But the smile in his eyes doesn’t falter. “I feel like I see you on this train a lot.”

Your stomach flutters like butterfly wings, and you have to look away, back down to the safety of your sketchbook. “Really?”

There’s an extra pause before he speaks again. “Man, sorry. Think I misread that. Now I feel creepy. I promise I’ve only noticed you a normal amount.” Your eyes snap back up to find him wincing slightly, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

“No, no, I’m— it’s not—” you stammer, trying to recover. “I, uh— me too, I have too. Noticed you. A normal amount. I… I don’t know why I just pretended like I didn’t.”

Subway Boy leans forward, head dropping down with a genuine laugh that shakes his shoulders, and you can’t help but laugh too, out of sheer embarrassment. He’s beaming when he rights himself again, and it sends a thrill buzzing through you, all the way down to your fingertips still clutched tight to your pencil.

“That makes me feel better,” he admits. “At least we’re both creepy.”

As if the universe itself is intervening to save you from any further humiliation, the train shudders back to life and begins to move again. The sigh you breathe is a strange mixture of relief and disappointment.

“That’s definitely a new record,” you say shyly as you move to shove your things back in your bag. “Maybe the MTA actually looked up what ‘soon’ means.”

His focus is tracked over your shoulder when you look up again, and his eyes dance left to right to chase the patterns in the subway tile as you pull into the next station.

“Guess it’s a miracle,” he says softly, not making eye contact.

“Must be,” you murmur back, letting your gaze drop to the floor, unable to hide your smile now.

He doesn’t say anything else, and neither do you, but the warm flush stays in your face for the rest of the ride. When the train pulls into the Astor Place station, you and Subway Boy get to your feet simultaneously, so quickly that your bags knock together as you pull them over your shoulders.

“Sorry,” you say in unison, immediately sharing an exhaled laugh at the synchronicity of the moment.

The doors slide open and he gestures for you to go first before following after. It’s a surprise— he’s never gotten off at Astor before, and when he doesn’t take the option of heading in another direction but instead falls into lockstep next to you, you seize the opportunity.

“Astor Place today, huh?” You hope the observation still falls into the category of ‘noticing a normal amount’.

“Yeah, first day of a new gig. What about you? Class?”

You nod. “Pretty standard stuff. But we start a new unit today, so that’s fun.”

“You in grad school too?”

“Yup, MFA in studio art.” You can’t help but tease, just a little. “Only one master’s degree for me, I’m such a slacker.”

His eyes squint again as he smiles. “Hey, I’m just glad you’re not, like, eighteen.”

“I thought that too!” You keep talking before you can stop yourself. “I mean, when I was… noticing. I distinctly remember thinking, like, please let me not be thirsting over a straight-up child right now.”

“Ahh...” Subway Boy trails off, and you can see a faint pink starting to blossom in the apples of his cheeks. “You were thirsting?”

You can’t help but scrunch your nose up slightly, resisting the urge to full-body cringe at your own stupid mouth. “We are now officially both creepy.”

He fidgets a little with the strap of the dance bag slung over his shoulder. “Hopefully I’m living up to the hype.”

You’re grateful to reach the art building before you can dig your grave any deeper. You nod your head in the direction of the glass doors as you slow to a stop, and he does, too. “This is me.”

“It’s actually me, too,” he remarks, glancing up at the building as if to double-check. “But I have a little bit, so I’m gonna grab a coffee I think. But it was nice to finally talk to you. Not that— sorry, that was weird. Take out the finally. It was good to talk. Meet a fellow starving artist and all.”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment, until you finally work up the courage to ask the question. “Do you have a name?”

“Oh!” His eyes widen, more heat-blush coloring his face. “Yeah. Park Jimin. Probably could’ve led with that.”

You give him your name, and his voice is like music when he repeats it back.

“Well, good luck in class,” Jimin says with a nod. “And hopefully I’ll see you around sometime.” A smile toys at the corner of his mouth, and then he pauses as his words seem to catch up to him. “Well, I mean. I guess I know I will. On the— train— yeah, I’m gonna go before I say any more stupid things.”

“Bye Jimin,” you giggle, and he gives a shy departing wave before he spins on his heel. As he walks away, you can’t help but notice the way he drops his gaze and shakes his head, like he’s thoroughly embarrassed by his social performance.

And just like that, Subway Boy has a name— one that loops in your head as you float to class, barely feeling your feet touch the floor. Park Jimin. It’s sweet like him, warm sunshine in your veins as you shoulder open the door to the studio, grab a seat, and start to get set up.

A voice nearly makes you jump out of your skin as Kim Taehyung leans in, having occupied the seat next to you while you were off in la-la land. “Know what the new unit is?” You start to shake your head, then realize it was a rhetorical question when he waggles his eyebrows and continues. “Life drawing. Ready for some naked people?”

You roll your eyes and grab at the strings of his gray beanie, pulling it down over his fluffy hair and eyes in one swift tug. “Bro, we are literally in grad school. Stop acting like a virgin.”

“Like you weren’t thinking it too,” he grumbles to himself as he shoves the hat back up his forehead.

You shoot him a look as your professor signals the class to settle and launches in. It’s the same routine as each unit you’ve rotated through in your graduate studio, so you only half-listen, mostly distracted by Taehyung tearing open the paper wrapper of a red heart-shaped lollipop and popping it into his mouth. His latest oral fixation in his millionth attempt to quit vaping.

You lean down to dig into your bag, trying to ignore the sound of hard candy clacking against teeth as you fish out both pencils and charcoal to give yourself options. You pull a couple of each out of their cases, glancing up in an attempt to refocus on the professor, who is still talking.

It takes a second for your brain to process the image in front of you. His shy smile has been replaced with a serious, professional expression, but there’s no questioning the familiar face, the posture, the silver jewelry, the way he reaches up to run a hand through his hair. Subway Boy Park Jimin is standing in the center of the room, wearing a short black satin dressing gown.

Your jaw goes slack. It feels like it happens in slow motion as you watch Jimin’s strong hands move down to undo the sash at his waist before he shrugs off the flimsy fabric and lets it fall to the floor. And then he’s not wearing anything at all.

You lose your grip entirely on your handful of pencils, and they hit the studio floor with a clatter that certainly feels deafening, each one choosing to roll off in a different direction.

Taehyung glances over at you, brow slightly creased. The lollipop tucked in his cheek impedes his speech slightly, but not enough that you can’t understand him. “Now who’s the virgin?”

You crouch down, praying that maybe you can gather your things unnoticed, but it already feels like every pair of eyes in the room is burning a hole in your back. To his credit, Taehyung at least helps a little, extending a sandaled foot to kick any pencils he can reach over towards you. You scramble around the room to chase after the rest, and you can’t bear to look up and see if Jimin is watching you or not. You’re not sure which would be worse.

Fighting the urge to army crawl out of the room, you grip both hands tightly around your materials as you return to your seat, then tuck everything into the tray of the easel in front of you. You’re a professional, you tell yourself. It’s not like it’s your first time drawing someone nude.

It’s just your first time doing it when you happen to have a crush on them.

But it’s fine. You let out an exhale to ground yourself, then pick up a pencil. It’s just a body.

You vaguely recall hearing your professor explain that you’d be moving through ten quick-sketch poses to begin with, each held for only a few minutes, before switching to a few longer sessions for the rest of class. As you were too busy chasing your pencils around the room, you’ve missed the first pose entirely, and you have to work quickly to get a very rough outline of the second before Jimin moves again at the professor’s instruction.

He switches so fluidly from one pose to the next, and you have so little time, it’s enough to get you out of your head just trying to keep up. You find yourself falling comfortably into a flow state, focused on little more than lines and shapes in front of you and the act of reproducing them on your page. It’s an exercise you know well, and the repetition of it soothes you.

The studio is quiet, save for the scratching of pencils on paper and the soft classical music your professor has switched on.

By the time you finish sketching the tenth pose, it feels like you can breathe a little easier, and your professor offers Jimin a quick break just as you lean back to admire your work. You do your best to quickly duck behind your easel as he stretches, then reaches for a bottle of water set on a nearby table.

Taehyung removes his sheet of sketches and sets it aside before leaning in, pressing his face against his easel to match yours. “He’s cute. Bet he gets like, infinite ass-pussy. Just the absolute most.”

“Shut up, Tae!” You jerk your foot out to kick the leg of his chair, and a boxy grin stretches over his face as he giggles. You stare daggers back. “You’re too damn horny today. Like you didn’t just get your ass eaten in the supply closet last week.” The rumor had spread through your cohort practically overnight— probably started by Taehyung himself.

The menace in question shoots you an over-exaggerated wink. “And I’d do it again, too.”

You roll your eyes. “Nasty.”

The professor claps to get everyone’s attention again, and you peer around your easel to watch as Jimin resumes his place at the center of the room. You settle in for the first of a few longer, more detailed sketches, trying desperately to keep your cool about it. But Jimin is unquestionably gorgeous.

He turns to the side for the first pose, arms wrapped around his muscular torso and eyes downcast, fingertips and thumb resting over his neck and chin as if to cradle his own face in his hand. After a long stretch of time where you manage to get most of a sketch done, the professor cues him to move into a second pose, and he faces the back wall, reaching up to drape his arms over each other, crossed wrists resting delicately on the crown of his head.

You could easily see him as a statue carved out of marble, and you try to ignore the flutter of your heartbeat as you attempt to translate his beauty onto your page each time. You have to hold in several sighs as you work on outlining the strong, toned muscles of his back and thighs— not to mention his perky ass. You can’t help but wonder if the rest of the class is struggling silently, too.

You’re beginning to think you might survive after all when the professor asks Jimin to move again and he does, shaking his body out slightly before reaching to grab a provided stool and shift it to the center of the room. He takes a seat, abdominals flexing as he leans back on his hands and unabashedly lets his legs fall open.

Fuck. You nearly snap your pencil in half.

You try desperately to keep it together as you start your third sketch with unsteady hands. The minutes tick by, and you aren’t aware of Taehyung’s eyes on your paper until you hear his stupid whisper again. “Why aren’t you drawing his dick?”

He’s not wrong. There is a noticeable blank spot at the center of your page. “I’m getting there,” you huff. “Worry about your own sketch, Tae.”

“Girl, you are literally doing detail shading on his legs and he doesn’t even have a penis. What is he, a Ken doll?”

You grit your teeth and refuse to dignify Taehyung with a response. Fine. You can do this, you tell yourself. Don’t think. Just look and draw. It’s not a big deal.

With a hard swallow, you trace your eyes down his body, and… well, you don’t know what you were expecting. It’s just a soft penis resting limp between his legs, framed by an extremely regular pair of balls. Nothing scary, though you can’t quite will the heat back out of your face, can’t manage to silence the recurring thought that makes your stomach drop— it’s cute.

You resist the urge to smack your head against your easel as you finally fill in your sketch’s dick.

You somehow manage to survive the rest of class, but relief still floods your veins when your professor signals for everyone to wrap up what they’re doing for the day. Jimin starts to come alive again from the fixed pose, tilting his head to one side until something cracks audibly in his neck. You tear your gaze away for fear that his eyes might find yours, and shove everything into your bag as quickly as you can, not even caring what ends up where.

“Where’s the fire?” Taehyung questions beside you, but you ignore him.

You zip your bag up and sling it over your shoulder, then make a beeline for the exit, keeping your eyes fixed firmly on the floor. It’s only once the studio door swings shut behind you that you feel like you can breathe again, and you have to keep yourself from outright sprinting to your next class.

~*~

The rest of the day rushes by in an overwhelming blur, your focus entirely shot by the events of the morning. You collapse into a seat on your train home, hugging your bag to your chest, thankful for the first time in your life to not be sharing a subway car with Park Jimin.

When you turn your keys in the lock and stumble in the front door of the apartment, the divine smell of what could only be Yoongi’s cooking immediately hits you full-force. You find him in the kitchen with a towel thrown over his shoulder, searing a large steak in a cast iron pan for what must be a planned date night with Namjoon.

You wrap your arms around his tiny waist from behind as you approach. He responds with his usual greeting: a soft grunt of mild discomfort.

“Can I ask you a question?” you ask, trying to sound as sweet as possible.

“You just did,” Yoongi notes.

You decide to let his sass go, since you really do need help. “Two more?” Yoongi hums, somewhat affirmative, and you continue. “I know you work like 47 jobs and never get any time off—“

“Some of us have to pay rent without the luxury of stipends or rich parents, yes—“

“But is there any way I could… maybe possibly encroach upon your date night just this once? It’s an emergency. I need advice.”

Yoongi sighs, and you shift to peek over his shoulder, arms still wrapped around him as you watch the way he tilts the pan to one side, collecting butter on a spoon to baste over the steak as it cooks. You squish your cheek into his bicep.

“Lucky for you,” he begins, his tone relenting, “Namjoonie just called. They’ve got him working late to prep for the exhibition next month. So date night was canceled anyway.”

“Aw, Yoongiiiii.” You squeeze him tight enough that he makes another disgruntled noise, and you finally release your grip. “I’ll be your girlfriend tonight.”

He rolls his eyes, but willingly plays along. “Then get the wine, darling?”

You fall into a typical routine: Yoongi pulls a tray of roasted vegetables out of the oven as he lets the steak rest, while you grab a bottle of red at his instruction and fight with the corkscrew in an attempt to get it open. Yoongi watches you, slow-blinking, unamused.

“You wouldn’t last an hour in the restaurant industry.”

“Either help me, or shut up,” you hiss through clenched teeth.

When you finally get settled at your tiny kitchen table, Yoongi nods as if to prompt you while he fills each wine glass with a heavy pour. “Let’s hear it.”

You take a deep breath before launching in and recounting the events of your day, trying not to choke as you simultaneously stuff your face with food. Yoongi eats and listens quietly, no discernible reaction on his face save the occasional lift of his eyebrows. He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest as you finish detailing the way you ran out of the studio the minute class ended.

“Alright. So you saw Subway Boy naked, big deal. Do you know how many dicks I’ve seen?”

You groan. “Spare me the details, please.”

“But this is what you wanted, right?” You shrug, and he rolls his eyes. “Don’t play coy now. You’ve been lusting after this kid for months like a weirdo. So why are you stressed?”

“Because!” you huff, frustrated. “It’s— it’s out of order. It’s not like he chose to get naked in front of me specifically, he obviously just thought it was going to be a roomful of strangers. And it seemed like maybe we could be friends or something, but now I don’t know if I should keep pursuing that or just leave him alone. I want to be respectful, but I don’t want him to think I took one look at his penis and decided I didn’t like him anymore, but then it’s like, how do I hold a conversation when he and I both know I have seen his penis, not only seen but studied it, drawn it, and will continue to, weekly, in detail, from multiple angles—“

“You are absolutely overthinking this,” Yoongi laughs into his glass of wine, downing the rest before he continues. “Just get on the fucking train and say hi like a normal, well-adjusted human. This is my advice to you.”

You sigh as you shove a roasted potato in your mouth. “At least you’re a good cook.”

“I’m a great cook,” Yoongi corrects you as he gets to his feet. “Now help me with these dishes.”

~*~

Yoongi’s advice continues to echo in your brain as you lapse back into something like normalcy for the rest of the week.

When the day of your studio class rolls around again, you find yourself hustling not to miss the train, having hit snooze on your alarm a few too many times that morning. You fly down the subway steps just as the 6 is pulling into the station, and you try to ignore the way your pulse is already quickening, telling yourself it’s just from rushing and nothing else.

Pulling the strap of your bag up on your shoulder, you make it to the platform just as the train doors slide open, and your heart instantly leaps into your throat. There he is, leaning against a pole, overwhelmingly beautiful as ever. Park Jimin.

He’s scrolling through something on his phone and hasn’t yet looked up to notice you, and you find yourself frozen in place, jostled angrily by commuters exiting and boarding the train on either side of you.

Panic floods your veins. There’s no time to talk yourself off the ledge, no time to remember Yoongi’s words of wisdom, no time to do anything but make a snap decision. So you do the only thing that feels right: you turn around and sprint back up the stairs and out of the subway station.

The sidewalk is equally bustling, and you try to dodge people while you think through what to do despite the way your head is spinning. You were already going to be cutting it close for time today, and you don’t exactly have the disposable income for a taxi or an Uber. As you try to settle your racing thoughts, your eyes alight on a rack of Citibikes.

Fuck it. You don’t have a better option. Securing your bag on your back, you quickly scan the code to unlock the bike, then shove your phone in your pocket and swing your leg over the seat.

You’ve never biked in Manhattan traffic before, but it can’t be that difficult, you tell yourself. Definitely easier than sharing a subway car with Park Jimin.

Thankfully the street you’re on has a defined bike path, and you do your best to follow the flow of traffic, squeezing your hand brakes to slow to a stop when you hit a red light. It’s been years since you’ve ridden a bike that wasn’t stationary, but it comes back to you relatively easily, like— well, riding a bike.

When you hit a long stretch of green lights, you do your best to pick up speed, trying to make up for lost time. An approaching red light threatens to slow you down again, and you breathe a sigh of relief as it flips to green at the last possible second.

Just as your front tire rolls into the intersection, a deafening car horn nearly gives you a heart attack. You instinctively slam your grip tight around your brakes, and your bike screeches to a halt so fast you’re almost flung over the handlebars. A taxi just barely veers around you as it plows down the intersecting avenue, and you gasp for air, adrenaline coursing through your system.

Holy shit.

You drop one foot to the ground for leverage as you try to get your pulse back under control— you’re pretty sure you just saw your life flash before your eyes. Reality feels a million miles away, but you’re vaguely aware of someone shouting after the car as it speeds down the street.

“Fucking asshole!”

It takes a few seconds for you to realize that it’s a familiar voice, and when you do, you whip around as best you can with a bike between your legs.

“Yoongi?!”

“Oh my god,” Yoongi groans, knuckles blanching as he presses down on his own brakes. “What the fuck are you doing?”

You squint, taking in the helmet strapped over his wavy dark hair and the insulated bag tucked into the basket on the front of his bike. “Since when do you deliver food?”

He grimaces, speaking up to be heard over the noise of traffic. “I just do it to make extra money when my hours suck.”

“What about the coffee shop?”

He shakes his head. “They only have me opening Mondays and Wednesdays right now.”

“What about the bar?”

“That’s just weekends, reliably. Sometimes extra evenings, but only if someone calls out.”

“What about the—”

“Christ, woman!” Yoongi cuts you off with a growl. “The food’s gonna get cold if I have to sit here and run through my entire résumé with you! Are you alright? Why aren’t you taking the subway?”

“Because!” you snap back. “There is a man on that train whose dick I’ve seen and I… I don’t know how to handle it! Okay?!” Though you don’t intend to raise your voice, it comes out loud enough that a group of high school kids on their phones exchange stifled giggles as they fast-walk around you.

“Well you need to be fucking careful,” Yoongi chides. “Biking in the city is not for the faint of heart. And if I’m not allowed to give in to my suicidal ideation, you’re not allowed to crack your head open on the pavement all because you’re trying to avoid a penis.”

“Fine,” you spit back through gritted teeth. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get to class.” You push off the asphalt, legs still shaking a little with excess nerves as you re-find your balance and make your way cautiously through the intersection.

The rush of wind in your ears isn’t quite loud enough to drown out Yoongi calling after you as you bike away. “It’s only weird if you make it weird!”

When you somehow make it to Astor Place in one piece, you dock your bike and quickly sprint to the building, well aware that you’re already late. It’s only once you push the studio door open that you realize how truly frazzled and out of breath you are, and though you keep your gaze fixed on the floor, you can feel every pair of eyes in the room on you. You hold a hand up in an apologetic wave and hurry to find your seat.

Trying to collect yourself, you begin to unpack your materials as quietly as possible so as not to disturb the class. You nearly jump out of your skin when you hear Kim Taehyung’s voice beside you.

“You’re sweaty. Why are you so sweaty?”

He’s got an eyebrow cocked when you look over, and you give him the most powerful death glare you can muster, enough that it must actually scare him. “Shutting up now,” Taehyung murmurs, voice shaking slightly as he returns to his own sketches, and you huff an exhale as you attempt to catch up to the rest of the group.

Class passes surprisingly quickly once you manage to get your breath back, much in the same way it did the week prior: you do your best to compartmentalize the body in front of you from the human person you have a giant, embarrassing crush on. It goes decently well in the moments where Jimin is frozen in a fixed pose, just lines and curves and light and shadow for you to emulate. During the breaks when he comes alive again, you hide out behind your easel, trying to ignore Taehyung’s inane bullshit and wishing you could disappear entirely.

The second your professor dismisses everyone for the day, you stuff your things back into your bag, hoping to once again speed-walk out of the room.

But despite your better judgment, you can’t help yourself this time. As you get to your feet, you glance up to watch Jimin pull his dressing gown back on, only to realize his eyes are already on you.

You’re distinctly aware of how much of a mess you must look from biking over, and the fact that you almost assuredly smudged charcoal on your face when you reached up absentmindedly to scratch an itch mid-sketch.

Jimin’s plush lips turn up in the smallest of smiles, and the bottom drops out of your stomach.

With a hard swallow, you avert your gaze from his, sling your bag over your shoulder, and quickly make your escape through the studio door. You can feel your pulse pounding in your throat even after he’s out of your sight, and your hands shake like a leaf all the way to your next class.

~*~

That night, sleep evades you until the early hours of the morning, and it feels like you’ve only just begun to doze off when the harsh noise of your alarm pulls you up from dreaming. You roll over in bed and glare accusingly at your phone, then shut it off, promptly letting the waves drag you under once more, seminar be damned.

It’s nearly noon when you finally make it out of bed and stumble into the living room in your sweats. Namjoon is curled up in his reading chair, a feat for someone of his size, surrounded as always by his massive stack of ever-changing ‘to read’ books. He glances up from the one that’s open on his lap, clearly surprised to see you.

“No class?” Namjoon’s voice is rough-edged, like he’s only just woken up himself.

“Skipped,” you grunt. His eyes track you as you cross the room and collapse face-first onto the couch.

“Is this about the penis?”

The cushion muffles your groan. “Not you too.”

You hear the distinct fluttering sound of Namjoon closing his book and shifting in his seat to give you his undivided attention. “Seems like you want to talk about it.”

You turn your head to the side to take in your roommate. “Maybe. Are you gonna give me the same stupid advice your boyfriend did?”

He smiles softly, one dimple flexing at the corner of his mouth. “I can try to be gentler.”

You huff as you flip onto your side, pressing your palms together and slipping them under your cheek. “Sounds like you’ve got the details already, so please. Enlighten me. Tell me how I’m supposed to handle seeing this guy naked once a week in the name of art.”

“Didn’t William Blake say ‘Art can never exist without naked beauty displayed’?” Namjoon poses it like a serious question, brow creased as if in contemplation, and you roll your eyes.

“I don’t know, Joon, did he? I said enlighten me, not write me a thesis.” You reach up to grab a couch pillow and fling it in his direction, missing by several inches. “Did Blake have anything in there on dealing with a naked crush and trying not to make it weird as fuck?”

“Well, does he seem weirded out by it?” Namjoon counters, patient as ever.

“I don’t know.” You shrug unsurely as you play back your last interaction with Jimin. “He smiled at me yesterday, at the end of class.”

Namjoon steeples his fingers together, leaning forward slightly in his chair, interest clearly piqued. “Okay, and what did you do?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “I… threw all my shit in my bag and ran out of the room.” When you crack an eye open again, you can see Namjoon trying and failing to keep the smug smile off his face, his dimples giving him away.

“Maybe you could try smiling back next time?” he gently suggests.

You sigh, because you know he’s right. “You make it sound so easy. What’s next? You’re going to tell me to talk to him?”

He laughs a little. “I’d quote another poet, but I fear you might launch more projectiles at me.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Let’s hear it, nerd.”

Namjoon clears his throat for dramatic effect before launching into a recitation. “‘It’s cool, not tryna put a rush on you / I had to let you know, that I got a crush on you.’”

There’s a wide grin on his face as you sit all the way up. “Did you just quote Biggie Smalls at me?”

“Hey, I appreciate all forms of poetry.”

You feign annoyance, but you can’t quite hide the smile beneath it, and you get to your feet as Namjoon continues to mumble a verse of Crush on You under his breath. “Whatever. I need to do laundry.”

“Oh—” Namjoon pauses to interrupt himself. “Lucky’s closed, by the way.”

Already halfway out of the living room, you whip around again at the mention of the laundromat you’ve been exclusive with for the last few years. “What?”

He nods solemnly. “Me and Yoongi found out the hard way last week. They’re putting in an Equinox.”

Your face twists in disgust. “A stupid bougie gym?! You’ve got to be kidding me. Where am I supposed to wash my fucking clothes?”

“We found a place a few blocks up. Quick Clean, or something like that.” Namjoon shifts to dig his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll send you the address. It’s not bad, just a little more expensive.”

“This is such bullshit,” you groan as you stomp back into your bedroom, the day already off to a terrible start.

In a gentrification-induced rage, you angrily shove the contents of your overflowing laundry hamper into the giant yellow IKEA bag hung up in your closet, just barely managing to fit it all. Glancing at the mirror on the back of the door, you briefly consider changing out of your sweats, or at the very least doing something with your hair, but you shrug it off— it’s not like you’re trying to impress anyone at the damn laundromat.

You grab your headphones off your desk and sling them around your neck, double-check that your sketchbook is still tucked into your bag, then lug everything out to the front hallway. You pull your slides off the shoe rack and slip your socked feet into them.

“Bye, nerd!” you call over your shoulder to Namjoon before the front door slams shut behind you.

By the time you make it to the weird new laundromat, you’re sweaty and pissed off. You knew the walk to Lucky’s by heart, but you had to do this one while looking down at your phone GPS and trying not to get hit by a car. Not an easy feat while carrying every article of clothing you own over one shoulder.

You miss the way the nice old man who owned Lucky’s would greet you warmly and sneak you a cup of coffee from his pot in the back, the way his cat would roll over on the front counter for belly rubs, the way there was always a deeply entertaining telenovela playing on the ancient tiny TV.

The stupid Quick Clean has none of these things, just a shitty pile of magazines in the seating area and weirdly sticky floors. You slam into the front door a little harder than is necessary to push it open, the bell tinkling violently overhead as you enter. The only compliment you can give the place is that it’s relatively dead, save for a couple people on their phones or half-asleep in chairs as they wait on their stuff, and two guys in the corner loading armfuls of wet clothes into a pair of dryers.

You grab a machine a respectful distance away from them and swing the door open when a laugh that’s nearly musical gives you pause. Unable to shake a sense of familiarity, you glance over at your neighbors again, just in time to see one of them reach up to run a hand through his honey blonde hair.

Your IKEA bag hits the sticky floor with an audible thud as panic kickstarts your heart.

This isn’t fucking happening. Of all the laundromats in New York City, you did not just manage to stumble into the one currently being used by Park Jimin.

But even before you can catch a glimpse of his profile, you’re already certain it can’t be anyone else. You’ve spent too much time familiarizing yourself with the slope of his neck, the definition of his forearms, his dainty hands. There’s no mistaking them, adorned today with several silver rings that catch the dim fluorescent light as he grabs more of his clothes from the washer.

The desperate need to turn around and run rises up in your chest, just as before, but this time you steel yourself. You can’t keep running away forever— particularly not when you pulled on your last clean pair of underwear this morning.

A rush of heat floods your face at the thought of the many pairs of underwear in your bag that will soon be sent spinning around this washing machine, where Jimin could easily see, but then it occurs to you that you have seen his penis. Maybe the trade-off will put you on slightly more equal footing.

But you really don’t need to be thinking about Park Jimin’s penis in this laundromat right now.

Shaking your head slightly to try and banish the thought, you set about your laundry routine, trying not to drop any unmentionables on the floor when you dump the contents of your tote into the washer. You dig quarters out of your bag and slot them into the machine, then press the button to start the cycle.

With a final exhale to steady yourself, you turn to look over your shoulder again, only to find Jimin leaning up against the empty dryer next to his, unabashedly watching you with a small smile on his face.

It occurs to you now that you couldn’t have put less effort into your appearance if you tried, and you’re suddenly hyper-aware of every random stain on your sweatpants and your extremely fashionable socks and slides combination. Jimin’s just in a white t-shirt and a pair of distressed jeans today, but literally everything looks fresh off the runway on him. You suppress the urge to walk out the door and go lay down in traffic, and instead take Namjoon’s advice: you smile back and even lift your hand in a shy wave.

You drop into an empty chair across from your machine and watch as Jimin starts to cross the room to join you, his eyes never leaving yours. Before he can make it, you suddenly become aware of someone else sliding into the seat beside you.

“You didn’t tell me she was cute, Jimin-ah!”

Eyes wide, you turn to see Jimin’s friend sprawled out next to you, one arm draped lazily over the back of your chair. His wavy dark hair peeks out from under a lime green beanie, and he’s swimming in an oversized long sleeve tucked into baggy pants, cinched tight at the waist with a Gucci belt.

“Jung Hoseok,” he gives you a nod. “Friends call me Hobi. You can call me whatever you like.” The way his wide smile pulls his mouth heart-shaped makes you giggle a little, slightly dazed by whatever the fuck is happening right now.

You hear Jimin sigh as he takes the open seat on your other side. “Please ignore Hoseok’s tendency to come on way too strong. If it makes you feel any better, he’s as gay as they come.”

Hoseok flicks his wrist just so. “Guilty as charged.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” you say with a shrug, your gaze flitting from Jimin to Hoseok and back again. “I have two gay roommates, so.”

Hoseok hums, clearly interested. “Gay together or gay separately?”

“Gay together.”

He narrows his eyes. “Open to a third?”

You can’t help but laugh at the unexpected question. “Uh, I’d have to ask.”

He looks like he’s going to say more, but Jimin interjects. “Hoseok— can we get a minute?”

Hoseok’s lips pull together, fish-like, and he nods as he gets to his feet. “Say no more. I’ll just, uh…” He fumbles, looking around for something to do, then crosses the room to take the open seat next to the sad pile of magazines. “…do a little light reading.” He picks up one at the top of the stack, holding it up for you both to witness. “Oh look, the queen died!”

You bite down on your bottom lip to suppress another laugh, but Jimin’s face is surprisingly serious when you look back at him. “I just want to say one thing,” he murmurs, voice low, “and then I’ll leave you alone.”

Nerves settle in the pit of your stomach like a heavy weight. “Jimin,” you start, and when he opens his mouth to keep talking, you blurt out the first thing you can think of.

“I’m sorry,” you say in unison, and there’s a beat where you both blink, equally taken aback by the other’s apology. It’s quiet apart from the rumble of the laundry machines and the distinct sound of Hoseok smacking the magazine over his mouth, clearly more invested in your plot line.

You break the silence first. “Wait, why are you sorry?”

Jimin’s eyes drop down to the floor, one black boot toeing nervously at the tile. “I figured you were upset with me because I didn’t warn you.”

Your eyes widen in surprise when you play your initial conversation back. “Oh my god— when I said graduate studio art, you… you knew.”

He nods, somewhat remorseful. “I was kind of hoping that maybe it would be a different class, but. Yeah. I figured. I’m really sorry, I should’ve—”

“No, no,” you interrupt. “I get it. I’m not mad, obviously I didn’t even put it together until right now.” You pause for a second and can’t help but smile a little. “And, I mean, how do you just casually work that into your first conversation with someone? ‘Great talking to you, ready to see my dick in five minutes?’”

Jimin’s head tips back when he laughs, his cheeks flushing a faint shade of pink. “Right.”

You can feel your own face grow hot as you realize what you’ve just said. “God, sorry, I didn’t mean to— clearly I don’t know how to handle this. That’s why I wanted to apologize, for avoiding you and being weird.” You twist your hands uncomfortably in your lap. “I’ve just never been in this situation before, and I wasn’t sure if you’d still want to talk given… the…” Every cell in your body screams at you not to say the word ‘dick’ again. “Yeah. I thought it might be easier to keep my distance. Keep it separate.”

Jimin’s eyes drift back up to find yours, and his casual beauty is so stunning, it’s enough to knock the air out of your lungs. He shrugs softly. “I mean, maybe it would be. But I don’t want to.”

“Great,” you manage a laugh, still breathless. “Because I nearly died on a Citibike the day I didn’t take the subway.”

He laughs, too. “Not gonna lie, I missed seeing you on the train.” You’re not expecting it when he extends a hand out. “Friends?”

You realize belatedly that he’s offering a handshake, and you gently take his hand in yours. His skin is soft and warm, a contrast to the cool metal of his rings that press into your palm as he squeezes.

“Friends,” you echo with a smile, squeezing back.

There’s a sudden thump and a cackle as Hoseok falls out of his chair with a peal of laughter. “You are so fucking weird, Jimin-ah!” he gasps from his spot on the floor. “Who shakes hands?!”

The two of them keep you more than entertained until the buzzers on their dryers sound a second apart from each other. You learn that Hoseok and Jimin are roommates, that they met as dance majors in their undergrad program, and that Hoseok now works as an adjunct instructor and freelance choreographer.

“Because some of us decided we wanted to actually make money instead of digging ourselves further into debt,” he explains with a sly grin and smack delivered to the back of Jimin’s head.

You watch as they meticulously fold, Hoseok regularly leaning over to redo Jimin’s work and chide him about wrinkles, and then they stack the clean laundry back into their bags and head for the exit.

“Bye, new friend!” Hoseok calls as he maneuvers the door open with his foot, and Jimin pauses at the threshold, the bell overhead tinkling gently.

“So… guess I’ll see you on the train?” he asks, like he’s still a little unsure, and your heartbeat flutters.

“Guess so.”

“Cool.” He gives you one last soft smile before he disappears after Hoseok. The bell sounds again when the door shuts behind him, as if to snap you back to reality.

The floating feeling in your stomach doesn’t quite dissipate even long after Jimin has left the laundromat. While you wait on your clothes, you flip to a blank page in your sketchbook and start on something new: the outline of a hand extended in mid-air, rings glinting like an offered promise.

~*~

The next week, Jimin is waiting for you on your morning subway ride, the dance bag that he usually keeps tucked between his legs set on the bench next to him. When he sees you step through the train doors at 51st, you watch him reach over to swing the bag down to its rightful place on the floor, freeing up the space. An open invitation.

You can’t help but feel a little shy as you sink down next to him and murmur your thanks. There’s something about being this close to him that just makes your mind go blank, puts you at a loss for words entirely.

To your surprise, he doesn’t try to strike up conversation either. Instead he plucks one fancy bluetooth earbud out of his ear, gives it a diplomatic swipe across the fabric of his joggers, then holds it up, pinched between his fingers in front of you.

Another invitation, you realize dumbly.

The corner of your mouth turns up as you pluck the bud out of his hand and press it into your own ear. The music that must have paused itself upon the earbud’s removal resumes, and your smile grows when Jimin quickly unlocks his phone to restart the song from the beginning.

An acoustic guitar and a light, pretty voice fill your ear, underscored by a gentle yet driving beat, not unlike the rumble of the train beneath your feet. It’s like the rest of the world fades away to nothing as you stare down at his sneakers next to your shoes, hyper-aware of the mere inch or two of space between you in this moment.

As if to prove your point, the train comes to a sharp stop, enough to make you slide a little on the bench and then you’re suddenly not just close but touching, all the way down, an unbroken line from shoulder to hip to knee.

When you look over in surprise, Jimin is already looking back at you. You swear you can feel warmth radiating out from him at every point where your bodies press together.

After another dazed moment, you come to your senses enough to scoot over, breaking the contact with an embarrassed laugh as you feel your face grow hot.

Your gaze drifts back down to the floor, only to snap up again at another brush of contact, this one not initiated by you or by the motion of the train. Instead, you realize Jimin has spread his legs an inch wider to purposefully touch his knee to yours again and leave it there. You blink softly as you look over at him, but he’s staring firmly out the window of the subway car now, smiling with just his eyes.

For the rest of the ride, you think of little else but Jimin’s knee pressed against yours and the pretty pink flush in his cheeks.

You stay in comfortable silence, music floating in your ears as you exit the train at Astor Place together, until you reach the studio, where you finally return the borrowed earbud. He smiles as he tucks them both back into the case, then pushes open the door and gestures for you to enter first.

Jimin shoots you a final look before your paths diverge, and you sink into your seat with a small, dreamy sigh. Your bliss is short-lived when you hear Taehyung’s voice over your shoulder.

“That was fast.”

You whip around to shoot him a look. “What was fast?”

He makes a face, like it’s obvious. “You’re already banging the model and it’s been, what, two weeks?”

Taehyung’s just close enough that you can lean forward and smack him on the arm, and he hisses in a way that has to be an exaggeration. Thankfully he seems to take the hint, and manages to actually keep his mouth shut as the professor commands everyone’s attention at the center of the room.

When Jimin emerges in the usual black satin, you try to keep your composure, but you can’t ignore the chill that dots up your spine when he lets the fabric fall to the floor.

Nevertheless, you sink into the routine of class, the thrill of Jimin’s naked body now equal parts familiar and exhilarating. The only difference is that today, when you’re dismissed, you make no effort to quickly pack up. You instead purposefully take your time, adding a few extra details to your last sketch before you finally start putting things away. Your gaze flickers up distractedly to see Jimin pulling his dressing gown back over his body as he moves to close the distance between you.

“Hi,” he says simply when he reaches your easel, and you smile.

“Hi.”

“Sorry, is, uh— is it okay that I talk to you, when I’m—” He gestures vaguely to his lower half with one hand, using the other to keep himself covered.

You swallow hard at the thin layer of fabric and everything you know lies beneath it. “Yeah, it’s okay,” you say, hating how breathless you sound.

“When are you done with classes today?”

It takes an extra second for you to remember your own schedule. “Uh, six.”

Jimin fidgets with the satin material in his hands, clearly a little uncomfortable. Or maybe nervous. “Would you… want to get dinner after? With me?”

Your stomach flutters as you nod. “Yeah, yes. I’d like that.”

~*~

When you emerge from your last class, you find Jimin waiting for you on Astor Place, and you’re not expecting it when he greets you with a single question: “Do you like sushi?” You answer affirmatively, and he nods over his shoulder. “Then let’s walk this way.”

You end up tucked into two seats at a place you’ve never been to before, where rolls and other plates of food zip past you on a steadily moving conveyor belt. Jimin shows you how to pop the plates out from their protective domes, and you gather a small feast of options on the table between you to share.

“So,” you start with a nervous smile, chopsticks hovering in midair. “Can I ask the obvious question?”

He quirks an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s that?”

“What made you decide to nude model?” The words alone send fresh waves of heat and nerves through you, sparkling in your chest. “Or have you done it before?”

“I haven’t,” Jimin confirms with a shake of his head, then he pops a piece of sushi in his mouth as if to buy himself time. He chews, bringing a hand up as he speaks with his mouth still half-full. “Do you want the real answer?”

You nod, and his adam’s apple jerks as he swallows. There’s a look on his face like he isn’t quite sure what to say, and then he exhales a weighty sigh. “I’ve struggled with my body for a really long time. Especially in undergrad.”

Your eyes widen slightly— you weren’t expecting such a serious response.

“Dance doesn’t typically have the best culture for that to begin with,” he continues, “and I’d spend literally all day staring at myself in a mirror, so I would just… pick myself apart. Always convinced I wasn’t good enough, that I needed to lose more weight, always.”

The thought of it makes your heart ache, but you let him talk.

“I’m through the worst of it now, so please don’t feel like you need to be worried. But I have some friends who’ve done this kind of thing before and it seemed like, I don’t know, a good challenge?” His brow creases, contemplative. “I really love art, so I thought maybe if I did it, I might be able to see my body in a new way, through the eyes of other people. Of artists.” He pauses, then nods, like he’s said his piece.

It takes you a second to respond. “That’s… beautiful, Jimin.”

He looks down, clearly a little uncomfortable. “Sorry if that was too heavy.”

“I can take it,” you say softly, and it’s enough to make him glance back up in surprise. “Thank you for telling me.”

A faint color floods his face. “Thanks for listening.”

You eat in a silence that’s oddly comfortable, and when you both reach for the same piece of sushi and end up knocking chopsticks together, he lets you have it, picking up the thread of conversation again as he smiles. “What got you into art?”

You make a face, chased by an unsure shrug. “Is it bad if I say it’s the only thing I feel like I’m good at?”

Jimin laughs a little. “I don’t know that I believe you.”

“I mean,” you lean back in your seat. “Maybe not the only thing, but I’ve just never been able to see myself doing anything else. I’m not cut out for the corporate life, as much as my parents wish I was. Art’s always been the thing that I go to in my free time. When I’m feeling so much that it’s overwhelming, or so numb that it’s like I can’t feel anything, the act of creating something just… brings me back to center again.” You worry your bottom lip between your teeth. “It’s an outlet, I guess.”

“Well, if it helps, you’re very good at it.”

“Thanks,” you say with a small smile. “But it’s not even about being good, at least not to me. Maybe it sounds weird, but I don’t really have any interest in being the best. It’s art, so it’s all subjective anyway. I just wanna make stuff.”

Jimin smirks as he adds another empty plate to the growing stack in front of you, tongue poking briefly at the inside of his cheek before he speaks. “I could stand to be more like you.”

“Your turn,” you shoot back. “Why dance?”

At this, he actually brings a hand up to cover his face, and his voice is muffled under his palm when he responds. “I can tell you exactly why, but it’s embarrassing.”

You shift a little in your chair to get a better look at him. “Don’t be embarrassed! It’s not like I—” you cut yourself off before you can very obviously finish the sentence with ‘haven’t seen your dick’, and you shove a piece of sushi in your mouth to shut yourself up, so fast you nearly choke.

Jimin laughs loudly into his hands, and then you’re laughing too, dropping your head down on the table to try and chew your food without asphyxiating.

“Okay, okay,” he gasps when he can finally manage to take a breath in. “I’ll tell you.”

He sets his chopsticks down, overly serious. “When I was little, I was obsessed with Titanic. Specifically the scene where they dance together, and Rose rises up on her toes in front of everyone.” There are practically stars in his eyes as he recounts the moment, and you can’t bear to cut him off. “I just thought she was so beautiful, and I wanted to be like that. Almost broke my toes trying to go en pointe barefoot like an idiot.”

You’re silent for a moment, and there’s a flicker of panic in Jimin’s face, like he’s worried he overshared. “I have to be honest,” you say softly. “I’ve never seen Titanic.”

His eyes nearly pop out of his head. “What?!”

Already expecting the reaction, you grimace and nod. “I know, I know. Everyone gets mad at me for it. Go ahead.”

Jimin’s eyes flit from your face to the remaining piece of sushi on the plate between you, then back again. “I mean, we can go solve this problem right now, if you want.” He pauses, then admits with a giggle, “I have it on DVD.”

You shrug, trying to act casual despite the way your pulse has started to quicken. “They canceled my morning seminar for tomorrow, so I’m down.”

He leans forward to steal the last piece of sushi with a smug smile. “Then let’s get out of here.”

It’s a short train ride back to Jimin’s place, and you make it in the front door just in time to see Hoseok slipping out of what looks to be his bedroom. You barely process him as the same person— tonight his dark hair is swept off his forehead, and he’s in nice dress pants and a white button-down, unbuttoned just enough to display the delicate spread of his collarbone.

“Hi kids!” he calls in greeting, and you wave back as you kick your shoes off.

Hoseok crosses to grab a mirrored pair of aviators and his keys off the table by the front door. “Daddy’s going out. You two have fun, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He pauses for a moment, like he’s waiting for a joke to land, then cracks a grin. “By which I obviously mean do whatever the fuck you want.”

As Hoseok pulls the door shut behind him, you follow Jimin into the living room, where you perch nervously on the edge of the couch while he disappears into the kitchen. “Do you like prosecco?” he asks, raising his voice slightly to be heard.

“Uh, I think so,” you say unsurely. “I don’t think I ever developed enough of a palette to have wine preferences.”

“White and sparkling?”

“Sounds good,” you respond, and then you hear the distinct noise of a cork popping before he returns with a bottle and two glasses in hand. He sets everything on the coffee table as he takes a seat next to you, then leans forward to fill both glasses nearly to the brim.

Jimin’s face flushes when you giggle softly at the pour. “Sorry— I like to drink. You don’t have to finish it all.” You shrug and take a healthy pull from your glass. It’s crisp and light, with little bubbles that fizz and pop all the way down.

“Hoseok calls me a lush,” he admits with a shy laugh as he picks up his own drink and turns to face you, sitting back against the arm of the couch. You shift to mirror him, curling your socked feet up under you. He takes a sip, then seems to think better of it, leaning forward to set his glass down on the table again. “I did want to tell you something. A couple of things, I guess.”

The sentence makes your stomach twist, and you try your best to ignore it. “What’s up?”

Jimin’s lips press together for a moment, as if he’s trying to figure out how to word whatever he’s about to say. “I’m not, like, trying to be presumptuous by telling you this but I just— I don’t want it to go unsaid and then come up later and be a whole big thing, so. I just want you to know that Hoseok is my ex.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but certainly not that.

“We dated freshman year of undergrad, for… maybe three months? It was the kind of thing where I knew I was bi in high school but was too scared to act on it, so when I moved to New York I just, like, dated the first gay person I met? Which was probably a little shitty of me. We quickly realized we work much better as friends, and it was a very mutual thing. No hard feelings.”

You nod slowly, trying to keep up. “And you’ve lived together since then?”

“No, no,” Jimin replies quickly, and he nearly grimaces as he continues. “At the end of last semester, I, uh… I got out of a pretty bad long-term relationship.” The way he says it makes your heart sink a little. “And she and I lived together, so Hoseok was extremely gracious and offered to take me in.”

He reaches for his glass of wine again, then pauses with it halfway to his mouth. “Ideally the number of exes I’d be living with would be zero, but. You know. This is definitely the better option, at least until I can figure out what comes next.”

A pause settles between you while he takes a long drink and you try to process all this new information. “I’m sorry about the breakup,” you say softly, and he shakes his head as he swallows.

“Don’t be. It was a very good thing. Long overdue.”

“Well,” you correct yourself, the corners of your mouth pulling up. “Then I’m sorry that it took so long.”

At this, he smiles back. “Me fuckin’ too.”

After one more sip, Jimin sets his wine back down on the coffee table, then rolls off the couch— surprisingly graceful— to retrieve Titanic from the small collection of movies lined up on the shelf beneath the TV.

“Ready?”

“This better have a happy ending,” you murmur over the edge of your wine glass. Jimin laughs so hard he nearly tips over.

He settles next to you again as the movie starts, painted pretty in the blue glow of the TV, and you try your best to watch the movie, but it’s hard to keep your eyes off him. Partway through you notice him grab a pillow off the back of the couch and hug both of his arms around it, curling up small.

Cute, you can’t help but think to yourself, and you can feel heat settle in your face as you try to refocus on the story.

When you reach the dancing scene Jimin sits up a little, lips parting slightly, that same starry look in his eyes as when he explained it initially. The mental image of a younger version of him equally enraptured by the moment nearly makes your chest cave in.

The movie goes on, and you’re draining the last of your second glass of wine when out of the corner of your eye, you see Jimin’s eyes go wide. Jack and Rose are closely examining a rare diamond necklace, and you don’t understand what he could be reacting to until Kate Winslet delivers her next line.

“Jack, I want you to draw me like one of your French girls.”

Your eyes go just as wide as Jimin’s, and you let out a laugh of disbelief that’s nearly a scream. “Oh my fucking god, Park Jimin! You did this on purpose!”

“I swear, I didn’t! I didn’t even think about that part until right now!” He shakes his head desperately as he gasps for air, and he doubles over with his own laughter, rolling right off the couch, arms still clutched tightly around his pillow.

“I literally cannot believe this.” You dissolve into giggles as you sink to your knees on the floor beside him, close to tears.

It takes time for you both to recover, but Jimin eventually manages to pull himself back up to sitting, shoulders still shaking slightly with laughter. He lets the pillow drop to the floor and presses both of his palms down into it as he leans towards you. “But hey, maybe that’s why I like you.”

He’s so magnetic, so beautiful, you can’t help but lean in, too. “You like me?”

There’s a warm glow of color in his cheeks, and you’re not sure if you can blame it entirely on the wine. “I do.”

Your lingering smile slowly starts to soften, and now your heart feels like it might pound out of your chest. “So what, you’re Rose and I’m Jack?”

His gaze drops to your mouth, his voice barely more than a whisper as he murmurs, “Uh-huh”. Imaginary violins swell in your head as you surge forward to close the distance and press your lips to his.

Jimin’s lips are soft and warm, and your head spins as you sit up on your knees and lean into the kiss. While his mouth moves gently against yours, his palms press to the small of your back, and the heat of his hands radiates through the thin fabric of your shirt. You wrap your arms over his shoulders, partially for balance and partially in an attempt to pull him closer to you.

He tilts his head, and you whimper against him when you feel his tongue trace delicately over your bottom lip. He returns a breathy noise back as he licks slowly into your mouth, like he’s taking his time, like he’s not in any rush.

Even though you can feel your arousal starting to build, heavy in your gut and slick between your thighs, you realize: you want him to take his time with you.

You’re surprised at the loss when he suddenly leans back, just enough to break the kiss, still keeping you held close. “Is it, um—” he clears his throat, then tries again. “I don’t… want to go any further. Than this. At least not tonight. Is that okay?”

Your eyes search his, and you’re a little breathless when you manage to get the words out. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. I’m good with that. With whatever you want.”

“Okay.” You exhale a laugh when he reaches over to find the remote on the coffee table and pause the movie. “I want to keep kissing you, if that’s alright.”

“Yes, please,” you murmur against his lips.

Jimin shifts a little, and you follow his lead, letting him tip you backwards onto the floor, your arms still looped around his neck, one hand now tangling in his honey blonde hair. He drops a forearm down to the carpet beside you, his other hand coming to rest at the curve of your waist, knees bracketing your hips as he covers your body with his.

He alternates between sucking on your lower lip and gentle passes of his tongue into your mouth, the hand on your waist tracing a lazy path down to your hip and back up again. Something pulled tight inside you starts to slowly unwind, blooming open as you sink into the rhythm, into him.

It’s been such a long time since you’ve just kissed someone like this, without it feeling like part of a race to get naked. And you’ve never been kissed like this in your life— so soft, so attentive. It’s enough to make you dizzy, even with your back pressed flat to the floor.

You lose track of how much time passes as you trade open-mouthed kisses on Jimin’s living room carpet, until he finally pulls away again. Still in a daze, you shift the hand in his hair to gently cup his face, not quite able to believe that he’s really real.

“God,” Jimin breathes, laughing quietly to himself. “I really like you.”

You smile as you blink up at him. “I like you too, Jimin.”

Rolling over, he drops down onto the floor next to you with a blissed-out sigh. He stretches his arms overhead, spine arching like a cat, then lifts up again to glance back at you. “Do you want more wine? ‘Cause we’re only like halfway done. This movie is stupid long.”

“I could go for more,” you answer with a shrug, still smiling.

In one swift move, Jimin flips his legs over his head and effortlessly somersaults up to standing, and your eyes go wide. “How do you fucking do that?!”

“I’m a trained professional!” he calls over his shoulder as he sashays into the kitchen. You giggle a little. “I would break every bone in my body.”

He’s humming prettily to himself, and you hear the sound of the fridge opening and closing, followed by the pop of another bottle being uncorked. You pull yourself back onto the couch as he rejoins you and pours fresh wine into both glasses, and a sudden curiosity urges you to ask a question. “Is Titanic your favorite movie?”

Jimin shakes his head, but says nothing, and the strange hesitant expression that flashes over his face just makes you that much more intrigued.

“Let’s hear it.”

His eyes flit over to you, then back to the wine glasses. “You’ll laugh.”

“I won’t!” you exclaim, lifting a hand when he scrunches up his nose, doubtful. “Promise.”

With a reluctant sigh, Jimin sets the bottle back down on the table, staring straight ahead as he admits, “It’s The Notebook.”

You press your lips together, trying desperately to keep your mouth in a straight line. At least you manage not to laugh. “I— wow. Really?”

He nods like the reaction is expected, picking up his wine glass and settling back against the couch cushions. “I don’t know, there’s just something about it. It’s comforting, to me.”

“You’re such a romantic,” you murmur, gently nudging his thigh with your foot until you coax a smile out of him.

“You know what?” Jimin’s voice is thoughtful now, more self-assured. “I am.” He takes a sip of his drink before he continues. “For a long time I didn’t want to be. Or thought that I couldn’t be. I used to always try to be so. I don’t know. Masculine, I guess. I think some of it had to do with denying my sexuality, but even once I got around to accepting that, there was still this part of me that would just never allow myself to be… soft.”

His gaze drops down to the wine in his glass, and you sit up, tucking your legs underneath you to scoot closer to him until you’re side by side. “I like you soft,” you say simply, and he looks over at you, still smiling.

“If we watch The Notebook I will cry.”

“That’s okay.” You lean into him to seek a kiss, made sweet from the wine. He hums a little against your lips before you pull back. “Same time next week?”

~*~

Just like that, you fall into a regular routine with Jimin: sharing his headphones on the morning train, sketching out the shape of his body in studio, then picking up takeout and wine to bring back to his place and split over a movie. As predicted, The Notebook does make him cry, and when you show him Kimi no Na wa the week after, hot tears stream down your face at the final scene, the way they always do.

He takes your head in his hands as the credits roll, his thumbs swiping at errant tears on your cheeks. You chase a sniffle with an embarrassed laugh. “Okay. We’re even now.”

On your fourth movie night, partway into Moulin Rouge, something emboldens you when you see Jimin reach for his usual couch pillow. You lean over and gently pry it out of his grip, then shift to tuck yourself into his side and curl your legs up in his lap instead.

“Better?”

“Mm-hmm”, he murmurs as he ducks down to nuzzle against your cheek. “You’re warm.”

These nights end the same way each time: you ride the train home with a wine-soaked buzz in your brain and flushed, kiss-bitten lips, your fingertips brushing over your own mouth at the memory of his.

Once a week quickly turns into more. The two of you coordinate laundromat afternoons where you listen to music together as you wait for your clothes. You usually end up drawing to pass the time, and sometimes Jimin dozes off, head tipping over onto your shoulder so gently that you can’t help but smile down at your sketchbook.

At his request, you help him dye his hair pink in his tiny apartment bathroom, and it somehow suits him just as well as honey blonde. You both get dizzy from laughter and cleaning product fumes as you desperately try to scrub the bubblegum stains out of the tile before Hoseok comes home.

When you finally introduce Jimin to your roommates, the four of you crammed all-too formally around the kitchen table over Yoongi’s cooking, the interaction feels like a cross between a job interview and a prom date meeting your parents. You choke on a piece of chicken that you nearly inhale when Namjoon offhandedly refers to Jimin as Subway Boy, and Yoongi smiles wide enough to show his gums as he gladly recounts your months-long crush in great detail while you bury your burning face in your arms.

But Jimin takes it in stride, laughs into your mouth as he kisses you over the sink while the two of you wash the dishes.

“Subway Boy, huh?”

“I will drown you,” you murmur as you pull away, brandishing the spray hose like a threat.

It’s easy and slow. This blossoming something, a nameless but undeniable spark, the calm comfort of Jimin’s arms wrapped around your waist, his fingers intertwined with yours, his head dropped down on your shoulder.

~*~

You dig your phone out of your pocket as you shoulder open the door to the dance building, pulling up the text from Jimin to double-check his practice room number. A train delay made you slightly later than your agreed-upon time, but you know the takeout bag of Indian food dangling over your wrist will easily earn you his forgiveness.

It doesn’t surprise you that he’s the only one left in the room when you find it, nor that he’s still reviewing the choreography with an expression of severe focus. You hover in the doorway, waiting for him to look up, but he’s entirely concentrated on his own reflection in the mirror.

His movements alternate between delicate and powerful, explosive and restrained, and you have to hold in an outright gasp when he launches his body into an aerial and lands it effortlessly. But then his feet falter in a split second of hesitation, and you can see his expression tighten, clearly frustrated.

“Fuck,” he mutters to himself as he rubs a hand over his face, and he doesn’t even try to keep going with the rest of the dance. You take the opportunity to step a few more paces into the room, and his eyes jump to you in the mirror.

“Hi,” you say softly, suddenly a little nervous to be intruding on the moment. The corner of Jimin’s mouth turns up, but his eyes seem far away, and you can tell he’s still raging at himself in his mind.

“Hi, sorry,” he sighs. “I just— can’t get this. It’s like my body isn’t doing what I tell it to.”

“You need food.” You try to say it gently as you cross the room, holding up the smiley-face adorned plastic takeout bag. “And perhaps the enigmatic charm of Rachel McAdams.”

This seems to shake him out of his thoughts, at least a little. “I do like her.” He steps close enough to slip his arms around your waist and pull your body flush against his. Sweat glistens on his collarbone in the dim practice room lighting. “But I like you more.”

You roll your eyes as you playfully smack a hand against his solid chest. “Stop lying.”

“‘M not,” he insists as he presses a kiss to the hinge of your jaw. “Rachel McAdams has never once brought me masala dosa.” You giggle despite yourself, and when his lips drop down to your neck, it’s enough to make your breath hitch.

A spark ignites in your chest that doesn’t go out, not on the subway ride back to your apartment, not through dinner and a movie, and certainly not once you’re most of the way through the second bottle of wine. As the credits start to roll, you waste no time, turning in Jimin’s lap so you can properly straddle him and take his face in your hands.

You trade decadent, easy kisses, and Jimin’s hands settle at the small of your back, his thumbs massaging gentle circles into your hips. A shiver rolls up your spine when he shifts a little and you realize you can feel a growing bulge through the fabric of his joggers, pressed firm against your thigh. He breathes a soft sound into your mouth as his tongue slides over yours, and you’re so overwhelmed, you barely register the sound of keys in the lock or the front door opening.

It’s Jimin who reacts first, turning his head to break the kiss as his cheeks flood with color, and you glance over your shoulder just in time to see Yoongi storm past, heading for his room. He lifts a hand up to his face to shield you from view as he goes.

“Don’t stop on my account!” Yoongi’s voice is dripping with derision. “By all means, continue fucking on our shared furniture!”

“We’re fully clothed, asshole!” you snap in response as Yoongi slams the bedroom door behind him, hard enough that it rattles in the frame.

When you look back down at Jimin, his face is twisted in an expression you take to be embarrassment. You drop your head down on his shoulder with a frustrated groan, the moment successfully killed.

“Do you…” you pause, turning your head to the side but continuing to ask your question into the fabric of his shirt. “We could go to my room, for more privacy, if you want?”

He hums his agreement, and when you peel yourself off the couch and head for your room, he follows. You spin back around to face him in the doorway, so fast he nearly knocks into you.

You brace your hands on the doorframe as you survey him. “We really don’t have to… do anything, if you don’t want to. We can just talk.”

Jimin nods, and you step aside to let him enter first, pulling the door closed behind you as you follow. He takes a few tentative steps into the room, and you walk past him to drop down onto the floor next to your bed, then pat the carpet to encourage him to join. There’s a flash of something over his face, and then he sinks down beside you. It’s only now that you realize how quiet he’s gotten.

“What is it?” you ask, suddenly a little nervous.

He stares down at the soles of his feet, pressed into each other, his knees tipped open like butterfly wings. “Does it make you feel bad? That we’re not—”

“No,” you answer immediately, and the honesty of it resonates in your chest.

“I know we’ve been hanging out for a while,” he continues, voice low. “And I do want to, you know. Hook up.”

“Jimin,” you lean forward to place both of your hands over one of his, settled atop his knee. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. When you want to, I want to. But I like everything we’ve been doing, too. It’s not like we’re not… intimate.”

His gaze flits up from the floor to meet yours. “I don’t want you to think that I don’t want you.”

You close your fingers around his hand, pulling it off his leg and up to your face so you can brush your lips over his palm.

“I don’t think that at all,” you murmur against his skin. “Promise.”

There’s a hint of a smile in his eyes when you look back up at him. “Okay. Sorry, I know it’s stupid. Like why do I need reassurance from you when I’m the one being difficult?”

You press your cheek into the warmth of his hand, toying lazily with the rings on his fingers. “Why are you so convinced that you’re difficult?”

Jimin huffs a small sigh. “This conversation has not gone this well in the past.” His eyes drop to the floor again, and after a moment’s pause, he keeps talking.

“My ex and I struggled a lot with…” he shakes his head, as if he’s trying not to say ‘everything’. “Sex. With me wanting it, with us having enough of it. I think it gave me a complex. I could be physically, you know, ready, but then as soon as she’d touch me I’d get in my head about everything and freak out and immediately want to stop.” He pauses, worrying at his bottom lip.

You pull his hand into your lap, your fingers delicately tracing over his in an attempt to provide some comfort. He shrugs when he starts to speak again. “And then, I don’t know, I guess she was just trying to share her side, but... she would make me feel so bad about it sometimes. Because I was genuinely trying so hard but it was like I was never good enough.” Another pause, and this time he sniffs a little. When his eyes roll up to stare at the ceiling, you can see he’s holding back tears. “It felt like she didn’t want me anymore, not if there wasn’t sex. So I left.”

“Jimin,” you breathe, and he flashes you a small grimace, clearly embarrassed by his own dramatics. With a grunt of effort, he turns sideways and flops backwards onto the floor of your room, and you scoot closer to him, your hand still playing with his.

His gaze roams over the ceiling as he sighs. “I don’t want you to think I was this perfect person and she was some awful bitch. She loved me a lot, and I’m sure she was struggling with not feeling wanted either, in her own way.”

Your voice is soft when you interject. “Two people can just be… incompatible. It doesn’t mean either of them is a bad person, or that it’s anyone’s fault. Sometimes things just don’t work, no matter how hard you try.”

Jimin’s mouth pulls up on one side as he shakes his head, eyes squinting. “How did you get to be so smart?”

You can’t help but laugh a little, lacing your fingers together with his in your lap. “Years of making terrible decisions.” You give his hand a gentle squeeze before you ask a question. “Did you struggle with this before, or just with her?”

His mouth twists slightly, unsure. “Yes and no? Both? My desire has always… fluctuated, I guess. Been a little shy.” A smile spreads over his face, and he hums a note. “Like, you know how people say love at first sight isn’t a thing? That it’s just lust?” You nod, prompting him to continue. “I think, at least for me, it’s the opposite. I can fall for somebody, and fall hard, like that.” He snaps loudly with his free hand. “But lust… I don’t know, it takes longer. It’s like a slow burn thing.”

You nod again, processing his words for a moment before you respond. “Well, I’m in no rush.”

Jimin sits up, voice thoughtful as he untangles his hand from yours, and it’s clear he’s getting more comfortable opening up to you. “Right after the breakup, I did a lot of research. I found this term, demisexual, that felt pretty accurate.” He shrugs. “But I don’t know. I mostly just think that... I am who I am. And the people who get it will get it. Like you.”

Before you can even speak, he sweeps an arm under your calves to drag you into his lap in one swift move, and you squeak a little in surprise as your world tilts.

“Demisexual. I like it,” you giggle as he guides your legs to wrap around his middle. His hands slide up your thighs, grabbing at your hips to tug you closer so he can trail kisses along your neck.

“Biromantic demisexual, technically,” he murmurs, head tipping up to find your mouth again.

You drape your arms over his shoulders and hum against his lips as he kisses you. “It suits you.”

Another soft noise escapes you when Jimin manages to maneuver to standing with you still in his arms. You tighten your grip on his shoulders and your legs around his waist, and his hands shift down to your ass to firmly hold you up. You squeeze your eyes shut automatically in fear of being dropped, then flutter them open again when you feel your back press into the soft cushion of your bedspread.

Jimin is hovering over you, forearms dropped down to the bed on either side of you. His eyes search yours for a moment, and then he leans in to kiss you again, so fiercely this time that it leaves you breathless. You can’t help but whimper as his tongue slips into your mouth.

When he finally pulls away, he presses his forehead to your collarbone with a groan. “It’s late,” he murmurs, breath ghosting over your neck. “I should go.”

You nod responsibly, despite how desperately you want him to stay.

You walk him out, and his sweet parting kiss leaves your heart hammering in your chest, enough that you slump against the frame with a sigh once you shut the door, your knees suddenly weak.

Light on your feet, you follow the faint noise of the TV to find Yoongi in the living room with Planet Earth on at a barely audible volume. He glances at you, his mouth a flat line, then reaches for the remote to turn the sound up a few notches. You drop down on the couch next to him, and it’s silent for a moment, save for the calm narration and the crinkling plastic of him tearing open a bag of Turtle Chips.

“How’d it go?” he finally asks, voice monotone.

“It’s good,” you answer softly. “We’re good.” You fold your legs up under yourself and sneak a look at Yoongi out of the corner of your eye. You’re still a little pissed, but you also want advice. Damn him for knowing everything.

“Have you heard the term ‘demisexual’ before?”

Yoongi nods, still chewing as he replies. “Yeah. Like asexual spectrum, right?”

You shrug. “I guess. It’s new to me.”

He shoves a few more chips in his mouth before he continues. “Is that what your Subway Boy is?”

“I think so, yeah.”

There’s a long pause while you watch penguins march across the screen, and you think that might be the end of it. Then Yoongi clears his throat. “You know, I’m somewhere in there too. Not completely asexual, but definitely not… not.”

Your eyes widen. “Really?”

Yoongi snorts. “Don’t act so shocked. These walls aren’t that thick.”

“Is Joon?”

He smirks, like you’ve just told a joke. “Decidedly not.”

“Oh.” You blink, trying to process. “How do you deal with it?”

Yoongi makes a face, like he’s never thought about it before. “We just communicate, I guess. Be respectful even when we don’t necessarily understand. And, like, Namjoon watches porn, and surprisingly reads quite a bit of erotica—”

“Okay, okay,” you cut him off. “I don’t need all the details.”

He huffs a dry laugh at your discomfort. “It’s not always easy, sometimes it’s frustrating for both of us. But we make it work. We love each other.”

You chew a little at the inside of your cheek, and then you can’t hold in the question any longer. “Is it weird that the idea doesn’t bother me? Jimin said it was a huge issue with his ex. Like, does that make me on the… spectrum?”

Yoongi shrugs. “I mean, you might be? But not necessarily? I don’t know, sex matters different amounts to everyone. Some people don’t mind not having it that often. You don’t have to put a label on it unless you want to, you know?”

“Yeah, makes sense.” You nod slowly as you digest the idea. “Thanks, Yoongi. I appreciate the education.”

His only answer at first is a noncommittal hum, and then he points a finger at the few inches of wine in the bottle you left sitting on the coffee table. “Gonna finish that?”

“It’s all yours,” you say. “Consider it atonement for going to first base on the couch.”

Yoongi grabs the bottle by the neck and immediately drains it. “Apology accepted,” he grunts as he sets it back down. “And I’m sorry I snapped at you.” He extends his bag of chips in your direction and you happily reach in for the biggest handful you can manage.

~*~

During your next movie night, Jimin can’t keep his hands to himself.

They pet up your thighs, your legs draped over his, then slide up to your hips, fingertips tracing patterns over the waistband of your leggings and toying at the hem of your shirt.

His mouth has a similar problem: he leans in to press kisses along the line of your jaw, then down the slope of your neck, sucking delicately at the spot that makes your nipples tighten and sends a shiver through you.

“You’re missing the movie,” you remark, raking a hand through his peachy-pink hair, shadowed at the roots where his natural color has started to grow in. He’s typically good about keeping himself restrained until the credits roll, but you’re barely halfway through Pride & Prejudice, haven’t even cracked a second bottle yet.

“Fuck the movie,” he growls against your skin, and you bite back a whimper when his teeth scrape over your neck. You can’t ignore the way your core is starting to ache from his insistent mouth.

His lips find yours again, and you giggle softly into him. “You’re in a mood.”

“Just been thinking about you,” he murmurs between kisses. It surprises you a little when he suddenly pulls back so he can look you in the eyes. “Should we— do you want to go to my room?”

The air hangs still and heavy between you, and you worry at your bottom lip for a moment. “Are you sure?” When he nods, dark brown eyes blinking up at you, your mouth turns up at the corner. “I’d rather we not traumatize any more roommates if we can help it.”

You lean over to pause the movie before sliding off his lap and getting to your feet, and then you reach your hands out for his and pull him up next to you. “Come on.”

Jimin’s bedroom is so perfectly him that it relaxes you, feather-soft comfort every time you step inside. His bed isn’t made, because it never is, the thick white duvet pushed down on one side where he stumbled out from beneath it this morning. He keeps it dark, blackout curtains drawn to support his night owl lifestyle, and the room is bathed in the warm glow of fairy lights he’s strung up along the ceiling. A myriad of posters and art prints and polaroids are taped to the walls, some beautiful, others sentimental— he even managed to coax you into tearing a few of his favorites out of your sketchbook. You still don’t think they’re anything special, but nevertheless, it makes your heart squeeze in your chest to see them on display with everything else. Like they belong here in this room, like you do too.

The door clicks as it shuts behind him, and then his mouth is on yours again, kissing you dizzy while he backs you up until your knees hit the edge of the bed. He guides you to lay down, and his hand slips beneath you to drag you up the bed with him as he crawls over you.

His hands come up to tug at your shirt. “Can I take this off?” he breathes.

You nod, staring up at him and not quite able to believe any of this is real. “You can do anything you want to me.” With a smile, he lifts the hem of your shirt, and you sit up a little so he can pull it the rest of the way off.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Jimin murmurs against your skin as he kisses down your neck, over your collarbones, then down between the valley of your breasts. His hands slip down to palm at your tits, squeezing gently, and he mouths at the stiff peaks of your nipples over the thin fabric of your bralette. You untangle briefly, only for as long as it takes to get the lacy thing off of you entirely and tossed over the edge of the bed.

You shiver a little as the air hits your bare skin, and then the warmth of his body covers you again, and he ducks down to close his mouth over your nipple and suck. The plush softness of his lips and the firm suction combined are enough to make your eyes roll back, and your spine arches up beneath him when he drags his tongue in a circle over the sensitive bud.

“Shit,” you groan. Your hands fist in the fabric of his shirt, and it feels like your only tether to reality.

It’s easy to believe it’s the waiting, the anticipation of this moment, that makes every little touch light you up like a live wire now. But something tells you it will always feel like this.

While his lips shift to your other breast, one hand slides down to cup your clothed pussy, rubbing gentle friction into your center. You circle your hips to press yourself against the flat of his palm, sighing at the brush of indirect contact and the heat that thrums through you from the pressure on your clit.

You feel Jimin’s weight shift on the mattress as he kneels next to you, and his lips find yours again at the same time his hand slips into your leggings, two fingers tracing the seam of your panties to make you whine softly. If he couldn’t tell before, he must be able to now: how wet you are, enough to drench the lacy fabric so it clings to your cunt, dripping arousal to show how badly you want him.

He’s surprisingly forceful when he tugs the damp fabric to the side, but so gentle again as he slips one finger and then a second into your tight heat. Your mouth drops open as he curls them up to rub at your g-spot, stroking into you over and over while your cunt squeezes tight around him.

Your head drops back on the pillow and you groan. “Oh, fuck, Jimin.”

You can hear how soaked your pussy is as he pumps into you, and the wet squelch of his fingers working inside you would make you shy if it didn’t feel so overwhelmingly perfect. The pleasure edges your breathing with soft sounds, and Jimin swallows them when he kisses you again.

He shifts slightly for a better angle and then you feel the heel of his palm grind down against your clit. It’s enough to make your hips buck up under him with every press of his hand, his insistent touch shooting sparks of arousal through you.

It’s been so long since anyone has touched you, and you’ve wanted this with him so badly for so long, but even still, it surprises you how quickly he can bring you to the edge.

“Jimin,” you break the kiss to gasp against his mouth, unable to believe how close you already are. Close enough that all you can do is cling, to any part of him you can reach: his hair, his shoulders, the fabric of his shirt. “Jimin, Jimin, fuck.”

“Look so fuckin’ good like this,” he groans, and he says the next part softer, like it’s just for him. “My girl looks so pretty on my fingers.”

The pace of his movements doesn’t falter, nor does the heavy weight of his palm as he ducks down to capture your nipple in his mouth again. Your pussy pulses around him, sucking him in to the last knuckle with each thrust of his hand, and your nails dig desperately into his forearm as you feel your orgasm crest.

His teeth graze lightly over the tight bud of your breast, and it’s enough. With a final whine, the arousal that’s been coiling inside you snaps, and your back arches up off the bed as you come hard on his fingers.

Jimin’s fingers keep stroking you through it, the flat of his palm rubbing rough circles against your clit again and again and again and it feels like you might never stop coming. You moan as it rolls over you, wave after wave, until his touch is so overwhelming that you have to pull your trembling thighs together, and he finally relents.

Spent, your body sinks heavy into the bed, and you can’t help the dazed giggle that flutters out as afterglow starts to bloom behind your ribs.

Jimin hovers over you, dropped down onto his forearms, full lips pressing indiscriminately to your flushed skin, all over. You snake a hand through his hair to pull his mouth up to yours, and he kisses you slow and deep.

When you break apart, you tip your forehead to his. “Can I touch you?” you ask, still a little breathless.

“Please,” he murmurs, lips brushing against yours again before he pulls away with a small, embarrassed smile. “My pants hurt.”

You sit up on your knees and he does too, and you bite down on your lip as you reach for the hem of his shirt. He helps you pull it over his head, and then there he is, beautiful as ever. Familiar, yet somehow all new.

Jimin shivers and whines when your hands run across the bare skin of his chest, teasing over his soft brown nipples before starting to trace a path down to his stomach. You lean in to kiss him, and he outright groans into your mouth when your fingertips tease along the band of his boxers that peeks out over his jeans. You gently bring your palms to his hips to guide him, and he’s pliant for you, shifting backwards at your suggestion until he’s seated, leaned back against the headboard.

Your hands shake slightly as you unbutton and push down his jeans, and you hear him exhale a ragged sigh of relief. He’s so hard, you can understand why the tight denim must have been painful: his dick is still straining even now, a thick outline pressed into the fabric of his underwear, and there’s a dark patch that clings to his tip where he’s started to leak precum.

You tug his boxers down with enough force that his length smacks heavy against his stomach, and he makes a strangled noise in response, eyes squeezing shut. His hips jerk violently beneath you, and your jaw goes slack as you watch his cock twitch, and keep twitching, until a steady pool of milky gloss has leaked out over his stomach.

“Shit,” Jimin hisses as he comes practically untouched, and he gasps for air to try to speak. “Fuck fuck fuck— ‘msorry, thought I could—”

You can see him starting to spiral, can feel the panic starting to heat up inside his body, so you take his face in both of your hands. “Jimin.”

“This has never happened before— fuck, I don’t— this is so—”

“Jimin.” When you say his name again, firmer this time, he goes quiet, his eyes still shut tight. “Look at me,” you murmur, and he does, lashes slow-blinking open. “It’s okay. Okay?” Your gaze searches his, trying to convince him. “I like everything about you. Everything you do. You’re perfect.”

Clearly trying to steady his breathing, his chest shudders with effort, and you gently circle your thumb at the hinge of his jaw. He makes a soft noise as his eyelids drop shut again, his cheek pressing into your hand, letting you carry a little bit more of his weight.

It’s quiet for a moment, and his voice is unsure when he speaks. “There’s tissues… in the—”

“Can I take care of it?” you interrupt to ask, your voice low. His eyes blink open again to look at you, and a dark glint flickers there as the unsaid meaning of your question washes over him.

“Y-yeah.”

You take your time moving down the bed to settle between Jimin’s thighs, and you stare up at him, waiting for any indication that he wants you to stop or doesn’t feel comfortable. But he just swallows hard, his adam’s apple jerking in his throat, and nods.

Leaning down, you drag your tongue in steady, long strokes over the flat plane of his stomach to lick the mess up.

As you get the last of it, you’re surprised to feel his hand cup the back of your head. You don’t resist when he pulls you up for a kiss, then licks into your mouth to taste himself, the salt and slick of his cum sliding between your tongues.

When you break apart to swallow, Jimin’s voice is a whisper. “That okay?”

You nod, unable to bite back your smile. “You’re… really fucking hot.”

He smirks as he finds your lips again. “So are you.” The next kiss is sweeter, and then he pulls back. “If you want, we can keep— or I can go down— I don’t want—” He can’t finish any of his half-started thoughts, and you smile, lovingly running your palms over his thighs, back and forth.

You want him so badly, more than anything, but you try to breathe through it. You can see the wheels spinning in his head, that self-critical flash in his eyes, the same furrow in his brow that creases when he gets frustrated with himself.

“I’m not saying no because I don’t want you,” you preface. “But I just don’t want you to feel stressed or get in your head about it. I want it to feel good, and I’m in no rush. Next time, okay?”

His lips are still a little pouted, but he nods, and you lean in to sling your arms around his neck. “C’mere.”

You tug him down to the mattress, and your half-naked bodies fit together like puzzle pieces, hands tracing gentle patterns over bare skin as you kiss.

When you eventually end up with your cheek pressed to his chest, you listen to the sound of his heartbeat settling, his breathing evening out. You speak softly in the quiet of his room. “My roommate’s doing an exhibition on Friday. Will you come with me? I’ve been promised there will be free booze.”

Jimin tightens his grip on your waist, his voice slurring like he’s half-asleep. “Mmm, my favorite person and my favorite thing.” There’s a pause, and he sighs. “That sounded bad. Promise I'm not an alcoholic.”

“I know,” you laugh, dragging your lips over his collarbone, then grunting a little noise of frustration as reality starts to set in. “I have class early tomorrow. I should go before I fall asleep here.”

He whines his disapproval, but when you glance up you can see the fight going out of him, his eyelids starting to flutter closed. You lean up for one, two, three more kisses before you force yourself out of bed to find your bra and your shirt. “I’ll see you Friday?”

“Mmkay.” He inhales deep, like he’s coming up for air. “Text me when you make it home safe?”

“I will,” you promise, and you do.

~*~

Namjoon’s exhibition is laughably fancy for what really just ends up being a room full of gay, overdressed art students. The ridiculous finger foods disappear in minutes— all the broke grad school kids came hungry— but you and Jimin gladly hover around the table of champagne flutes instead, giggles sparkling between you like the bubbles that fizz in your glasses.

You’ve been trying to drag him away to actually take in the art, but he keeps necking his drinks. “You’re supposed to sip it, you demon!” you chide with a laugh as he does it again, picking up a fresh glass and throwing all of it back in one gulp.

He smirks slightly as he shakes his head. “It’s more fun this way. Try it.”

You roll your eyes, hiding the grin that threatens to stretch over your face in the rim of your drink before following suit. He’s not wrong: a rush of warmth creeps up your neck as you swallow, the world softening around you, and it’s made sweeter by the kiss Jimin leans in for. When he pulls back you can see his face is flushing, too.

“Come on, Mr. Park,” you murmur, your free hand intertwining with his as you set the empty glass down and retrieve another. “Take me on a tour.”

Jimin grabs another flute too and then you’re off, and he actually manages to drink this one slowly as you weave through the gallery, the click of your footsteps underscoring the gentle classical music that floats through the speakers. You lean into Jimin in comfortable silence as you take in each art piece, sipping delicately at your champagne, occasionally hooking your chin over his shoulder just for the thrill of being close to him.

“These are all beautiful,” he hums appreciatively as you stand in front of a wide, impressionist landscape, swirls of color that shift into shapes when you step far enough away, but dissolve into unidentifiable blobs of thick-textured paint up close. “Namjoon did a really good job curating.”

“Mm-hmm,” you nod, but your eyes are on Jimin and everything else pales in comparison. He’s dressed up for the occasion, tight black jeans and a white button-down with a leather jacket thrown on over top. His hair is styled, pretty pink strands pushed back off his forehead, and his asymmetrical silver earrings glimmer in the low lighting. The result is so stunning you’ve had a hard time focusing on anything but him tonight.

A thought that’s been running through your mind all evening resurfaces again as you swallow the last of your glass of champagne.

“They should put you in a gallery.” You didn’t necessarily plan to say the thought out loud, but say it you do. Jimin quirks an eyebrow and you decide to double down. “But not here. Somewhere better.”

“The Met?” he guesses, teasing.

“The Louvre,” you counter, and he outright laughs, his head tipping back.

“The Louvre?!”

“You heard me,” you giggle, your body pressed against his side. “You’re art.”

Releasing your hand, he wraps his free arm around you to pull you into his chest, the smile still lingering over his face. “And you,” he murmurs, “are drunk.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t mean it.” Your voice is muffled slightly as you speak into his collarbone.

You tilt your head up for a kiss, and it seems to surprise both of you how quickly the atmosphere changes. It might be the more-than-several glasses of champagne to blame, or the fact that you’ve found yourselves in a corner, hidden away from the rest of the exhibition’s patrons, but the soft spark that ignites between you quickly grows into a licking flame at the touch of your lips. It’s heat-blush passion as your mouths move against each other, and you’re trying to keep quiet despite the weight of it, heavy in your core, this shared, unspoken need.

“Jimin,” you breathe into him, overwhelmed by all that he is.

He shifts, nosing at your jawline as he speaks into your ear. “Do you want to go somewhere?”

The suggestion makes you a little unsteady on your feet, your high heels threatening to topple over, and he catches you with a hand to your waist when you falter. “Like, somewhere here?”

“Too far to go all the way home,” he purrs, the hand on your body squeezing gently. “And you look too good.”

Your head swims as he kisses you again, and he pries the empty glass out of your hand, setting it down on the nearest table with his. A hand returns to the small of your back, then slips lower, cupping your ass through the fabric of your black dress. His mouth paints a smile over yours, and you grab his wrist. “Follow me.”

Stumbling your way through the gallery, trading laughs under your breath like confidants and kisses when no one is looking, you lead him back to the coat check closet at the front, thankfully left vacant by whichever freshman had been roped in to the thankless job. With a final glance over your shoulder to make sure you’re unseen, you push the door open and tug Jimin inside after you.

As soon as the coat check door closes again, he has you pressed against it, his tongue slipping hungrily into your mouth. His hands skirt up the curve of your hips as he slots a thigh between your legs, firmly pushing up the hem of your dress to grind into your clothed center.

You both freeze where you are at the sound of a moan, one that very distinctly does not come from either of you.

Jimin tries and fails to suppress a nervous laugh. Unable to make out anything in the dark, you reach your hand out, smacking aimlessly at the wall next to you until you find a lightswitch and flip it on.

“What the fu—” The man who made the noise in question flings a hand over his face at the sudden intrusive wash of fluorescents, but you’d know him from his voice alone. Kim Taehyung still has one hand gripped tight to the metal bar of a coat rack, back arched and legs spread for whoever his latest victim is, with his pants and boxers shoved down to his ankles.

Before your alcohol-soaked brain can put together a smug comment about how Taehyung needs to get his ass eaten at home like a normal human, Jimin’s voice surprises you.

“Hobi?”

You clap a hand over your mouth as you realize the man on his knees, pulling his tongue off Taehyung’s rim with a look of utter confusion, is none other than Jung Hoseok. His eyes are wide as dinner plates as his head snaps up to take the two of you in.

“Jimin?!”

“Oh my god.” You start to laugh so hard your knees buckle, and Jimin has to wrap his arms around you to keep you upright. “How the fuck did you two even meet?!”

“Do we really need to have this discussion now?!” Taehyung growls, and it only makes you laugh harder.

“Come on, come on—” Jimin is collapsing into giggles himself as he fumbles for the handle behind you. He simultaneously attempts to pull you off the door so he can swing it open. “Let’s leave them to it.”

You smack the lights off again as you make your escape, Jimin’s grip still hugging tight around your waist as you laugh until your lungs nearly give out. The lobby is thankfully empty, all the attendees pressed deeper into the gallery, so you loop your arms over his shoulders as you recover and pull his mouth back down to yours, unable to stop yourself.

“Let me take you home,” you manage to say in the space between kisses. Your tongue feels heavy when you speak; his is champagne-sweet. “Joon and Yoongi will be here for a while.”

Jimin’s agreement hums, buzzing on your lips. “Wanna take the train?”

You’re grateful the subway car you stumble into is empty, because the pull of Jimin’s mouth is too magnetic to be ignored. You don’t think you could stop kissing him if you tried.

It’s practically a race back to your apartment once you emerge from the station, partially to get out of the cold night air, though you hardly feel it with Jimin’s jacket slung over your shoulders and your body flushed hot from alcohol and desire. As you climb the four flights to your walk-up, both of you giggling and gripping tight to the banister, the spiral of the stairs sends your world spinning. You feel dizzy-drunk on wine and laughter and lust alike, and maybe something more. Something you don’t have words for yet.

It takes you three tries to get your keys in the door, and when you finally manage to get it open, you kick your shoes off and make a beeline for your bedroom, dragging Jimin along after you, hand-in-hand. Thankfully he has the foresight to remember to shut the door behind you, because all you can think about is him: the rich musk of his cologne, the taste of his tongue, the warm blush of his skin under your palms.

The leather jacket hits the floor and you step over it, walking backwards as he licks into your open mouth, shameless.

You nearly fall over when you bump up against the bed and almost lose your balance, and then you reach for the buttons of his shirt at the same time he goes for your dress. The two of you laugh your frustrations against each other as your arms tangle and get in the way.

“You first!” you insist, and he relents, lets you unbutton the starched white fabric of his button-down so he can shrug out of it. Your fingers move to undo his belt and then he takes over, impressively coordinated enough to be able to kiss you while kicking his jeans the rest of the way off, stripped down now to his black boxer-briefs. He pulls your dress up over your head, and then your barely-clothed bodies press together all the way down, the ache in your core now an undeniable throb.

Jimin takes your face in his hands and kisses you again, and you slip one hand between your hips and his to palm at him, earning an appreciative hiss. You rub at him over the front of his briefs, teasing, then dip your touch beneath his waistband.

His cock hangs heavy between his legs, but he’s not quite hard yet, maybe from the cold, so you take him in your hand and start to pump. For fear of too much dry friction you try to go slow, and he groans into your mouth as you twist your wrist a little to circle your thumb over his frenulum.

He buries his face in your neck, and you can feel the heat of his embarrassment bloom against your skin. “Sorry— gimme a second.”

Tilting your head, you press a kiss to his temple. “Don’t apologize. D’you wanna try laying down?”

When he nods, you release your grip on him so he can sink down onto the bed, crawling backwards up to the pillows. Knelt down on the mattress, you settle in the space he makes for you, thighs spread and knees tipped open, and you push his briefs down enough to free all of him.

You hook your thumb and index finger under the head of his dick to pull it flush against his stomach, allowing you better access to drag your tongue in little kitten licks up his shaft. Your other hand moves to massage gently at his balls as you take his tip into your mouth and let it bulge against your cheek, let him slip against the soft wall there to make saliva pool on your tongue, sloppy on purpose.

It’s still not working, not really, and when your gaze flits up to him again, Jimin’s face is pulled into a grimace. Heat rushes up your neck, and you pull your mouth off him and immediately right yourself. You shift backwards a little on your knees as your pulse starts to race. Does he not want this? Did you misread some sign, or push him too far?

Jimin must be able to read the look in your eyes, because he groans as he presses his face into his hands. “It’s not you. Think I drank too much, I don’t— i-it feels good, I—it just—”

You’re not exactly sober yourself. The receding white noise of panic makes it hard to think, hard to know what to say. “I-it’s okay. It’s okay.”

“I just—” he tries again. “I really want to do this, I don’t know why— it’s fucking embarrassing.” The blankets muffle the sound as his palms smack flat against the bed on either side of him in clear frustration. You move out from between his legs, still trying to catch up, and a muscle in his jaw jumps as he pulls his boxer-briefs back over himself.

“Jimin,” you murmur. The bed creaks when you shift to lay next to him, to tuck into his side, and you reach up to run a hand through his hair, a little sticky with the product holding it in place. An anxious, thrumming quiet settles over both of you as his eyes flutter closed.

The words finally come to you in the silence; you can only hope they’ll reach him. “I had so much fun with you tonight. That doesn’t go away.” The crease between his brows softens a little, so you keep talking. “It’s not your only chance, okay? I’m not leaving. I’m staying right here.” Your free hand slips into his on the bed next to you. “And I want you with me.”

He sniffs a little, so quiet you nearly miss it, then turns in towards you. Your noses bump together and your mouth turns up at the corners as you continue. “It’s late, and I… can’t promise there isn’t more ass-eating waiting for you at home. Do you want to sleep here?”

Jimin’s eyes blink open, glassy, and then he nods.

“Come on,” you say softly, sitting up and tugging on your still-joined hands. “How about we shower?”

In the bathroom, you run the water scalding hot, and when you both step in you nudge Jimin forward to stand under it first, then press against him from behind. Your hands wrap around his waist to slide over his stomach as you tilt up to reach his ear when you speak. “This okay?”

He nods, hums a little, and you move your hands up over the whole of his body. Hard lines and soft curves, a work of art you know so well, you can see it when you close your eyes as you map his skin with your fingertips. You nuzzle into the place where his neck and shoulder meet, then press a kiss there. “I’m right here,” you say again, not even sure if he hears you.

But his head turns, and you feel one of his hands slide over yours on his chest. “Will you wash my hair?” he asks softly, and you tip forward to bring your mouth to his, convinced you’d do anything he asked of you.

It’s intimate, the way you take your time running shampoo and then conditioner through his silky pink strands, dragging your nails over his scalp and applying gentle pressure that makes him sigh prettily in response. Jimin steps further under the showerhead both times to rinse the product out, and if a few tears slip down his cheeks, they’re lost to the spray of the water where you can’t tell the difference.

But he does manage the ghost of a smile when you reach to grab your washcloth and he gets there first. “Your turn.”

Once your body and then his are scrubbed and rinsed clean, you shut the water off and grab thick, fluffy towels that you dry off and wrap up in. In the dim light of your room, you pull on an oversized t-shirt and boyshorts, then dig out a pair of sweatpants from your dresser. They’re fairly baggy on you, but they fit Jimin perfectly, and the image of him in something of yours makes your heart squeeze tight in your chest.

You run two glasses under the kitchen tap that you set out to ward off any potential hangovers, and you even manage to find a spare toothbrush for him to use. When he emerges from the bathroom again, still absentmindedly toweling his damp hair, you’re sitting on the bed with your feet tucked under you.

“Do you want to watch something?” you offer gently.

He shakes his head as he stifles a yawn. “‘Mtired. Think I just wanna sleep.”

You pat the bedspread next to you, an invitation. “Then let’s sleep.”

Under the covers, you curl up together, soft and warm from the shower, scented lavender and mint from your body wash and toothpaste. Jimin’s legs tangle with yours, an arm wrapping over your waist, and you press your cheek against the hard plane of his chest with a small sigh.

You listen as his breathing slows, each inhale a little further apart from the last, to the point where you think he’s fallen asleep. You feel yourself start to follow after him, and the last thing you hear before you’re dragged all the way down is Jimin inhaling deep, then mumbling softly into your hair. “Thank you. For everything.”

~*~

Light streams in between the cracks of the window blinds, painting warm shapes over your eyelids that gently wake you. You sigh and stretch as you slowly come all the way up from dreaming, your eyes still heavy-lidded. When you roll over with a soft grunt, you find Jimin fast asleep there, his face smushed into the pillow, one arm slung lazily over you.

The corner of your mouth pulls up, and you have to fight the urge to dot kisses all over his face, deciding to let him sleep instead. It takes some maneuvering, but you manage to roll out from under his arm without waking him and slip quietly out of bed, easing the bedroom door closed behind you.

It’s early, and the apartment is still, washed in morning gleam and the gentle hum of New York City traffic on the streets outside.

You stumble into the kitchen with a stifled yawn, swinging open the fridge and leaning down to retrieve a pack of bacon and the half-empty carton of eggs. Humming quietly to yourself, you dig a pan out and set it on the stove to heat.

Arms slide around your waist, making you jump a little before you melt back as Jimin nuzzles into the crook of your neck. You can feel his body through your t-shirt, still warm from sleep and bedsheets he must’ve only just crawled out from under.

Not quite graceful, you turn in his arms and loop yours around his neck to seek a kiss. “Good morning,” you murmur, your voice hoarse on your first spoken words of the day. “How are you feeling?”

Jimin’s mouth is still slurred from waking up when he answers. “‘Mgood. You look good.” His gaze roams down your body and back up, as if to take in your oversized shirt, your bare legs, your hair still messy from sleep. “So cute like this.”

You scrunch your nose slightly as you smile up at him. “Want breakfast?”

A heat starts to pool between your legs as his hands slide further down your back. He pushes your shirt up so he can grip your ass, the thin fabric of your underwear the only thing separating his skin from yours.

“In a bit.”

You can’t help but squeak when, in one swift move, he bends his knees and lifts you off the ground. Impulsively, your legs spread to wrap over his hips, thighs squeezing tight to hold on, and your arms cling around his neck as laughter flutters in your chest. Before you can act on the urge to bury your face in his shoulder, his mouth finds yours again, and the way he kisses you, hungry and deep, makes nothing else in the world matter.

He carries you back to bed, nudging open the door he didn’t quite close all the way with his shoulder, then using a foot to push it shut again. Your muscles unclench when he sits down with you in his lap, and you unwrap your legs from around him, your knees sinking soft into the bed.

You can’t quite shake the thoughts of the night before. “Jimin,” you start, “we don’t have to do this if you don’t—”

“Want to,” his voice is low, ragged edges from sleep. “Doing it ‘cause I want to. I want you. Do you want me?”

You nod, leaning back to look at him, your arms still twined over his neck. “More than anything.”

There’s no rush this time as he shifts backwards up the bed and you crawl over him to settle into his lap again. No tension that’s been building all night, no alcohol buzzing in your systems, no urgency. Just your bodies, half-dressed in sleep clothes, intertwining like they were made to fit together.

Your kisses are sweet and unhurried as Jimin’s hands slip beneath your oversized t-shirt, delicate fingers tracing up your waist. He cups your breasts in his palms, squeezing gently as he licks into your mouth. When he rolls a nipple between his fingers, your breath hitches, sparks of arousal shooting all the way down to your toes. A weight blossoms in your core as you reach for the hem of your shirt to pull it over your head, and you shiver a little in the morning air.

“Beautiful,” Jimin says quietly, reverently, and you take his face in your hands.

“You are too,” you murmur, your eyes searching his. “So beautiful.” Your hands slip down his body as he kisses you again, your fingertips outlining the contours of his chest, gently brushing over his nipples to make him groan into your mouth.

Jimin’s hands come to rest at the curve of your hips as your mouths move together, where he teases his touch under the band of your boyshorts. He pulls back just far enough to ask, “Can I take these off?” and you nod.

You shimmy the thin fabric down your thighs, dropping onto your ass with a laugh so he can tug them the rest of the way off, one ankle at a time. As you sit up on your knees again, his hands come to grip your thighs, and he shifts lower on the bed until he’s laying flat on his back next to you.

“Wanna eat you out,” he murmurs softly.

“Yeah?” You bite down on a small smile.

He hums. “Can I— will you please, uh… sit on my face?”

You can’t help but giggle. No one has ever asked so politely. “Yeah, okay.”

It’s slow, languid, the way his full lips close delicately around your clit when you settle over him, how he alternates with lazy passes of his tongue, not unlike the way he kisses you. The pleasure pulls your spine arched and your head tips back, palms pressing flat to the bed beneath you.

“Jimin,” you gasp, “baby, feels so fucking good.”

His tongue is heavy as it drags down your folds, thick when he sinks it into your cunt to taste the slick arousal that pours out of you and drips down his chin. Your hips rock into his mouth, his nose inadvertently bumping against your clit as he licks you like he doesn’t want to waste a drop. Your walls cling tight, crammed up full of him.

With a slurp and a gasp for breath, he withdraws, his tongue made hot from being buried inside of you, trailing wet warmth as he licks back up your pussy to lap at your clit again. Your arms threaten to give out when he sucks the sensitive bud into his mouth, lips pulsing an insistent rhythm that makes you moan and writhe above him.

“Jimin, Jimin.” The pleasure is decadent, thick, wine and honey, made sweeter by the beautiful boy pressed between your thighs. Emotion bubbles up inside of you to twist with your pleasure, and you tighten a hand in his rose-blush hair as you moan again, nearly a sob this time, a dam breaking.

Jimin hums against you, fingertips digging into the soft skin of your thighs, like he can tell you’re at the edge without you having to say a word, and it’s enough to send you tumbling over it.

“Oh fuck baby, yes, fuck.” Your toes curl tight over the bedsheets as your pussy flutters, throbs, gushes. Your vision whites out as you come hard enough to make your thighs shake, hard enough that your stomach muscles tremble with the effort of holding you up. Jimin’s mouth works you through it, tongue stroking flat and slow to coax pulse after pulse out of you, until everything melts into shaky aftershocks and your thighs clench around him, over-sensitive.

He pulls back when you start to squirm, lips smacking wetly on a final kiss to your pussy, and heat flushes your face at the sound of it. Your limbs feel heavy as lead as you slip off from on top of him and collapse down onto the mattress with a floaty sigh, your pulse still thudding brightly in your ears.

You’re only distantly aware of the way the bed shifts as Jimin slides down next to you. You follow his touch on instinct, turning into him when he pulls you close and presses a kiss to your hairline. Heartbeat still slamming in your chest, mind hazy with morning orgasm glow, you hum contentedly as your eyes flutter open to find him palming at a thick bulge tenting his– well, your sweatpants.

“Looks like it’s cooperating today.” Jimin’s voice is equal parts relieved and embarrassed.

With a lazy smile, you hook a finger in his waistband, tugging playfully. “What do you want to do about it?”

He laughs hoarsely. “I would love to finally fuck you, if you’ll have me.”

“I don’t want anybody else.” The thought spills out before you can worry if it’s too soon to say it, but he just smiles and leans in to kiss you.

At Jimin’s guidance, you lay back against the pillows, a couple of which he grabs to slot under your hips. “There’s condoms in the nightstand,” you say softly, and anticipation thrums in your chest, twinning with your still-racing pulse as you watch him retrieve one, then step out of his sweatpants to roll it on.

He climbs back onto the bed to hover over you, and your breaths come shallow into each other’s mouths. You kiss quietly at the precipice of this moment, like you’re afraid it might not be real, a dream you could wake up from at any second.

“Thank you.” Jimin’s low voice sends a ripple through you. “For waiting for me.”

You press a hand to his cheek, your eyes trying to take all of him in at once. “It wasn’t waiting, Jimin. Really. I’ve loved every second with you. It doesn’t matter what we’re doing.”

“I’m so glad I met you,” he murmurs.

The head of his cock teases your entrance, and you spread your thighs wider, pulling your legs up towards your chest. Still sensitive from your first orgasm, you can’t bite back the moan that spills out of you as he sinks into your tight heat with a cock thick enough to split you open. “Fuck, Jimin.”

There’s a pause when he’s pressed all the way in, his body covering yours, your hands clutching at the broad sweep of his back. He exhales a soft, disbelieving laugh as he looks down to see himself buried in you to the hilt. “God, you’re so tight. Does it hurt?”

You shake your head— you’re so soaked from his tongue and your arousal that it all just feels like melting, a pulsating heat between your legs. When he presses another kiss to your lips, he circles his hips, and you both groan at the feeling.

Jimin’s hands grip your thighs as he shifts and starts to move, starts fucking into you with long, slow strokes that make your pussy flutter, as if to urge him in deeper.

“It’s good?” he checks in again, voice tight, clearly holding himself back.

“So good, baby,” you breathe, “please fuck me.” A smirk flashes over his mouth at your manners, so polite when you ask to take it, and then he snaps his hips into you and you keen. “Fuck, please, just like that.”

He does it again and again, hands pressing down on your thighs to keep you folded up under him as he fucks you. The angle is just right for the thick head of his cock to pound into your g-spot with every stroke, and your back arches as your walls grip tight to him.

Jimin echoes your gasps with his own, swearing under his breath as you squeeze around him. He’s thrusting deep-deep now, and your hips shove up towards him for all of it, your thighs trembling as you take every inch. You’re dripping down his length every time he pulls back, wet enough to soak the sheets beneath you.

The pleasure, the pressure as he fills you up is so overwhelming that your hands reach, clinging to anything they can find. A pillow, the bedsheets, the flexing muscles in his forearms. Your moans come unabashedly now, underscored by the slap of skin on skin, the thud of the bedframe knocking into the wall. “Jimin, Jimin, baby.”

“Yeah,” he pants, choked up like he’s close. “Love it when you say my name.”

You sit up a little, folded legs shifting to wrap over his hips, and your hands come to his face to pull his mouth down to yours. His movements stutter as you kiss him breathlessly, and the brush of your tongue over his must be just enough to make him come undone. With a grunt of effort, he thrusts hard into you one final time, and his shoulders shake as he fills up the condom.

You kiss him again and again, your lips pulled into a smile against his as you tangle a hand in his hair, made messy from sleep and sex. Jimin’s body weighs heavy on top of yours as he drops his head to your shoulder, breath coming in short heat-bursts over your collarbone.

“Fuck. Been a minute.” He presses a kiss there, another to your neck, a third to your jaw. “Do you want to keep going?”

Your eyes widen at the question. “I— can you?”

A soft flush paints color in his cheeks, and he’s suddenly a little shy. “Yeah, I can. If you want. Or we can stop.”

You wrap your arms over his shoulders, your noses bumping. “I kinda felt like I was getting close again.”

He smiles. “Then let me finish what I started.” There’s a bit of shuffling as he moves to the edge of the bed to remove and tie up the used condom, then reaches for the box to retrieve another.

As he tears open the foil and rolls it on, you watch and consider all of him. This body that you know from every angle, that you’ve studied like a textbook, that holds the boy who stepped onto the subway and changed your life and made it better. This body, made to be adored, to be respected and cherished and filled up with love. This body, chosen to be shared with you, to be held by you, to be near you.

That’s all you want, you realize as he rolls over, brown eyes blinking sweetly at you. This body, and all that it holds: the darkness and the light, the pain and the beauty, the soul that so perfectly fits with yours.

“Turn over for me?” he asks softly. “I want to spoon.”

This round is easier, slower, your bodies molding together, shaky from effort and sensitivity. You twist over your shoulder, tipping your head up for a kiss that turns into a shared gasp as he presses into you again. Your walls are swollen enough to be tender, and the stretch of him, the way he fills you up entirely, makes your eyes roll back.

As he starts to grind his hips into you, his hand snakes down between your thighs before you even have to ask. You hook a leg over his to allow him better access and gasp when his cock slides even deeper into you from the new angle.

“So good,” you manage as two of his fingers work circles into your clit, matching the same slow-stroke pace. His tongue slips into your mouth, and with his cock rubbing insistently against your front wall, it doesn’t take much. Pleasure overwhelms you in a hot rush as he so easily pulls you apart again.

“Jimin.” Your voice is nearly a whisper, your walls starting to pulse. Your head tips back against his shoulder as he fucks and rubs you through it, his hums of encouragement buzzing through your body, your hips shuddering. “Baby, oh god.”

Jimin’s strokes start to falter, and then he goes still, your cunt aftershock-fluttering around him as he comes again, groaning your name.

A brush of daylight through the blinds makes your eyes heavy, and they drop closed as you lean into him and breathe through the comedown. You don’t know how long you lay there like that until his kisses pull you back earthside, dotting over your forehead, cheeks, nose, jaw. You tilt your head up and he finally finds your lips again.

With a deep grunt of post-sex effort, he rolls over, leaning off the edge of the bed to deal with the second condom. A shiver dots up your spine at the loss of his body next to yours, and you tuck into his side when he lays down again, throwing an arm over his chest to better nuzzle into the crook of his neck. The heat of his palm makes you sigh as his hand rubs gentle circles against your back.

Something cracks open inside of you, warm like his touch, like the sunlight bleeding through the window. You can feel the rapid pace of his heartbeat under your hand, and it’s everything, all of him, that makes the words rise up in your throat, undeniable.

“Jimin,” you breathe, “I l—”

A loud bang on your bedroom door makes you flinch, and you roll over with a grimace as Yoongi shouts from the other side. “If you’re finished, just so you know, you left a fucking pan on the stove. Could’ve burnt the house down while you were in there deflowering each other.”

Your jaw drops open and Jimin’s eyes go wide, and you collapse against each other in a silent rush of laughter. You’re surprised when Yoongi’s voice comes back, a little softer this time. “Also I brought some bagels back from work. If you want any, better hurry before Namjoonie eats them all.”

The charged moment has passed, and the words sink back down inside of you. Making a promise to tell him soon, you wrap yourself tighter around Jimin’s side with a smile. “What do you think?”

He nods thoughtfully. “I’ll never say no to a bagel.”

“Come on then,” you murmur, tilting up for a final hit of affection. The kiss he leaves on your lips makes your heartbeat flutter, like the shudder of a subway car.

#jimin smut #jimin fluff #jimin x reader #jimin x y/n #bts smut #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts fanfic

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tiredmamaissy · 1 year

Note

hey beautiful, could i request a sub neteyam x reader (wifey) with an exhibition, spitting in mouth and degradation kink.

context: neteyam is oblivious to flirting from other females. so, reader decides to make it a point to show everyone neteyam's is theirs.

love love love your work. thanks for providing the neteyam spice that we all need 🤌🥰

Hide and Peek

a lil sumn sumn for y'all before bed

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Characters: Neteyam Sully (20) x Omatikaya Reader Y/N (19) Warnings: NSFW, degradation kink, spitting in mouth, exhibition, oral sex, foot stuff, knotting, sub neteyam

Word Count: 3.5k Authors note: My first ever request. This is a softer version of exhibition, etc. as public things are sort of a trigger me, so I hope this is okay, anon! :) lowkey got into it at the end, though.

Intro:

It’s been a few weeks since you and the Sully family have sought uturu in the Metkayina village, Awa’atlu. At first, the people were wary of all of you, thinking that providing you guys with a sanctuary would bring danger upon their people. However, after pulling your weight and adapting well to their way of life, they’ve become accepting of you and the Sully family. You and Neteyam have been so focused on adapting that your intimacy has taken quite a hit, to the point where the Metkayina people think you’re apart of the family, rather than Neteyam’s mate.

----

You sit in the sand next to Kiri, soaking up the warm rays of the sun that beats on your bodies.

“I could definitely get used to this. It’s not too bad here.” You say, digging your toes further into the sand. Kiri giggles, and shakes her head. “Nothing will compare to home. But I will admit that here is nice. Look around us, Eywa keeps on giving.” She takes a deep breath, savoring the scent of the ocean. You close your eyes and dip your head back, listening to the waves crash into the shore. It’s so serene that you feel like you’re going to fall asleep any second, when you hear three voices behind you. “Yeah. That Neteyam boy is cute. I’m glad he’s unmated... because I would mate with him.” Alira says, smiling to herself.

You look at Kiri, and scoff. “Forget what I said.” “Yeah? Well, I’d do way more than just mate with him.” Maru smirks. “Me too. I’d spit in his mouth and dominate the fuck out of him.” Vineya laughs, looking down at her feet.

Maru looks at Vineya. “Okay that’s a bit far… I’d probably just call him a few dirty names and put him in his place. He looks like he wants to be tamed.” She giggles.

“Well, I’d take his knot happily. It must be huge… he’s so tall and muscular. I just want to eat him up.” Alira mumbles to herself. “Definitely. I’d eat him alright. Probably have him eat me too.” Vineya moans softly, getting excited. “Maybe we can all share him then.” Maru suggests. “Shit. He’s coming, shush!” The words coming out of their mouths set a fire deep in your chest. Jealous isn’t a good enough word to describe the burning sensation inside your chest. You’re so livid that you feel like getting up and putting them in their place for talking about your mate like an object. He is not unmated. He is your mate, and he has been since he became a man. Kiri rests a hand on your thigh, as if to say, ‘don’t listen to them’. Her touch brings you back to reality. You shake your head, trying to get their words out your head.

Neteyam walks over to you guys, braids swaying side to side, and calls for you. “Kiri. Y/n.”

He glances at Kiri, and then at you, looking you up and down whilst smiling. He’s happy to see you. Likewise. You both stand up to greet him. “Brother. Coming to disturb us I see.” Kiri rolls her eyes. “Hey, you.” You walk towards him, returning the smile. “Just coming to check up on you two.” Neteyam says, resting a hand on your lower back. “Yeah. We all know who you’re actually here to check up on.” Kiri shakes her head, turning around to go sit back down in the sand. “I guess that’s my cue to leave.”

Neteyam laughs. “I cannot say she is wrong. I have been missing you. Dad has me watching Lo’ak, sorry I have been away so often.” He leans into you, moving his hand to your waist.

The simple touch feels so good; it’s been too long. You see the group of girls watching you guys intently. They talk among themselves, trying to encourage each other to come over and make a move.

You lean into your mate, and tippy toe, brushing your lips against his ear ever so slightly. He holds onto your waist a little tighter, providing you with some support, as he tilts his head down.

“Eclipse. Our spot. I miss you more, by the way.” You whisper in his ear, although it was more of a moan, and drop back to the flat of your feet. He turns to you, brows raised, and a grin plastered on his face. He stares at your lips - his way of saying ‘understood, my mate’. The girls make their way over and Neteyam loosens his grip around your waist to acknowledge the oncoming company. Neteyam was raised to be a gentleman, so he greets and speaks kindly to all people, even the ones with an ulterior motive. Typically, this means he’s oblivious to all flirting outside of yours – he couldn’t quite understand why someone would flirt with a mated man. He greets them with a smile, like a gentleman, which sends the wrong message. Strike one. Their approach is aggressive, causing you to take a step back as they surround your mate. You see red, the heat now radiating from your chest to the rest of your body. Did they not just see you touch your mate? Whisper in his ear? Him grab you by the waist? What more do they need, you to fuck him in front of them? Not a bad idea, y/n. You smile to yourself, and then at them. “Hey…” he looks at each one of them up and down as they circle him. Strike two. “Hey, mighty warrior” Vineya speaks, brushing her hand over his bicep. “You are a warrior, yes? You have the body of one” Neteyam laughs with her awkwardly, “Yes... I am”. “Hi. Do all Omatikaya people have braids?” Alira asks, twirling her finger around one of his braids, completely ignoring Kiri’s hairstyle. Neteyam is taken aback by the physicality, but puts it off to curiosity. “Not all of us, no.” He examines the girl intently. Strike three. “My name is Maru, hi.” She looks at his tail, stroking it from base to tip. “Your tail is so different... aren’t you slower in the water?” she asks. He chuckles uncomfortably and steps back, inching his way back to you. “Uh, somewhat. I am getting the hang of it, though.” He smiles at them and turns around to face you. “Y/n. I must go, dad is expecting me soon.” He smiles at you, tucking a braid behind your ear. “Kiri, I’ll see you later.” He waves at her, and then the group of girls. “Bye Neteyam! Hope to see you again soon!” The girls say in unison. Kiri rolls her eyes for a second time. “No respect.” She grabs your hand and pulls you towards your Marui pod.

To her surprise, you smile at her with a twitching eye, and say "Give me a minute.” You approach the girls who are gushing over your mate, once again. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation, girls. I’m y/n.” you greet them. “Neteyam… he’s quite the catch, isn’t he?” They all greet you, looking you up and down. “He is. Any way that you could set us up?” They laugh again. “Yeah. Definitely.” You shrug your shoulder, smiling with them. “Y/n!” Kiri whisper calls for you, with confusion plastered all over her face. You move your hand discreetly to your back and shoo her away. “Sorry for my sister, she’s ready to go home.” You smile. “Anyways, as I was saying. There is a spot that I know about that Neteyam likes to go for some ‘alone time’. No one else is really allowed to follow him there, but I could show you guys.” You lean into their circle and whisper, “but you have to keep hidden, and quiet – very quiet.” They all quiet down and huddle into you, as if they were being told a secret. “Okay. We will be” They whisper, grinning with excitement. You pull back. “Good. Meet me here right before the eclipse, and I’ll show you where it is.” You smile, taking some strides backwards. “See you girls later.” You take Kiri’s arm and walk away quickly. “What are you thinking?” Kiri interrogates you. “I’m going to teach them a lesson. A lesson that’s obviously needed.” You say, dropping your mask and showing her your true feelings. “And how exactly are you going to do that?” Kiri asks, rolling her eyes for a third time. “You don’t want to know the details. Trust me.” You fume, breathing heavily.

----

When you get to the shore, you see the three girls huddled together talking amongst each other. The sky is getting dim as the eclipse is fast approaching. You walk over to them. “Hey girls.” You nudge your head in the direction of the rocky coast. “Follow me” You call for your ilu.

They come willingly, excited to spy on Neteyam. You all bond with your ilus and make your way over to the secluded spot, a small open cave, nestled in a sea of rocks by the mangroves. When you all arrive, you see Neteyam waiting patiently for his mate, his bioluminescence glowing in the darkness. Seeing your mate took your breath away, as it did for everyone else, too. You were ready to take him and make him yours all over again. You all hide behind the curves of the mangroves, peaking through the cracks of the roots. They’re mesmerized by this glowing body, as he starts to remove his hunting knife from his hip. He fiddles with his loincloth, repositioning it before he makes his way into the water. Spying on your mate like this arouses you, your already wet loincloth becomes wetter from your slick. You fall back, and swim quietly away from the girls, making your way towards a hidden hole in the mangroves that lead to the small open cave. You swim low and slow, keeping hidden until the very last moment, where you see your mate walking into the water. You slowly emerge out of the water, just as he’s crotch deep. In your direct line of sight is his cock, imprinting out of his wet loincloth. Brushing your face against his bulge, you stand slowly looking deep in his eyes. You make your way to the shallow end of the cave, backing him up against the rocky wall.

“Hey, mighty warrior.” You run your hand up his arm and squeeze his bicep. “You are a warrior, yes?” you lean into his chest, and kiss his muscular breast. “You have the body of one.”

He looks down at you with a smirk on his face, knowing exactly what you’re doing. He responds with his line, “Yes... I am.” He pulls you in closer by your waist, leaning in to kiss you. You cup his bulge suddenly, making him jolt instead. “Need help removing this?” You smile, brushing your lips against his.

“I missed you, my mate.” He moans into your mouth, moving his hands up your back.

You glance to the surprised eyes that peer through the cracks of the mangroves and smirk. “I missed you more, my love.” You look back at him and meet your lips with his.

He kisses you hungrily, allowing his hands to explore your body, running his hand along your queue. You melt into his feverish touches, rubbing his bulge eagerly.

“I want to try something new today. You trust me, yes?” you whisper into his mouth.

“I trust you, always.” He smiles, nibbling on his bottom lip.

“Good.” You twirl one of his braids around your finger, then tuck it behind his ear.

You move your hand to the base of his queue, and run it along it’s length, holding the end and bringing it between you two. You both watch his tendrils dance excitedly, while he brings your queue forward. He puts your queue against his, and both your tendrils intertwine, connecting together. The feeling is exhilarating, causing both your eyes to dilate as you sync with one another.

The girls watching feel like they're invading a deeply intimate moment between mates – because they are. They’re taken aback, whispering to each other that they didn’t know you were his mate and that they thought you were merely his sister, or some sort of family pet. As much as they want to leave, they can’t. You see them linger longer, watching the show intently.

Being watched like this gives you an adrenaline rush, bringing feelings of extreme excitement to your body, transferring it to Neteyams.

“Why so excited?” he asks, watching you kiss your way down his body.

“Just excited to see you, babe.” Your sloppy, wet kisses reach his belly, where you play with the dips of his abs with your tongue.

His breath becomes raggedly, and his cock hardens even more.

“You’re making me rock-hard, y/n.” he says through a clenched jaw, feeling good from your kisses.

You untie the knot of his loincloth, unleashing his raging cock. You could practically hear the girls gasp at his length. You were going to give them the show of their lives. You rub your face against his cock, breathing in his musky scent. He stares down at you, with desire in his eyes. He wants you so badly, and you can feel it.

“I just want to eat you up.” you taunt, licking his cock from base to tip.

Eat me up? he thinks, confused.

“But, I prefer you eat me first.” You stand up quickly, moving him to switch positions with you.

You lean back against the wall, and rest your foot on a rock, opening your legs. “Get on your knees.” You demand him.

He looks at you, with an arched eyebrow and smiles, as if he can’t believe the words coming out your mouth. “What?”

You hear the faint giggles coming from the mangroves, as if they were saying that you couldn’t dominate your mate.

You untie your own loincloth and use it to blindfold your mate. “I said, kneel.” You say sternly.

He kneels immediately, obeying his mate’s command. His nose brushes against the soft flesh between your legs that lay open. He inhales deeply, savouring the sweet scent of your cunt.

You grab a fist full of his braids and shove his face into your pussy. “Now, eat.”

Being blindfolded, he has to rely solely on his other senses. His hands explore your thighs, while his tongue licks the flesh between your thighs, tasting the different flavours your body has to offer. Once he starts tasting the sweetness of your nectar, he laps up your juices hungrily. His nose is buried in your cunt, rubbing against your sensitive pearl, while he drinks the juices that flow out of you.

“Good boy. Fuck” you moan, rubbing your cunt against his face while gripping his head.

He’s drunk off your scent, gulping the slick that fills his mouth the more he eats you out. The water splashes against his back as he kneels and sucks on your clit, making your legs shake. You look down and see him, blind folded, making out with your cunt and it sends you over the edge.

“Ugh, f-fuck. You look like my little fuck toy sucking on my clit like that.” you purr, caressing his cheek. “Does this little toy want my cum?” you tease, feeling your climax approaching.

Yes. Fuck. He begs you.

All he can do is let throaty moans vibrate through his nose into your cunt, which brings you even closer to your peak. His breath is heavy, panting hot air into your pussy while he’s gripping your thighs as you thrust into his face, desperate to cum inside his mouth.

You dip your head back, feeling ecstasy from your mate lapping up your pussy juices, and peak at the girls watching you about to cum in his mouth. You give them a smile, and they look away in embarrassment.

“Look at me.” You demand.

They look back at you, eyes wide, looking you up and down.

He shakes his head. I can’t see, y/n.

“Not you, baby boy.” You moan breathlessly, about to cum any second. The thought of them watching you face fuck their little crush makes you so, so turned on.

You can tell your mate is getting weary, as his movements are becoming more erratic, desperate for you to cum in his mouth.

“Yeah? Want me to cum inside your mouth that bad? Fuck.” You moan, shoving your pussy against his face.

The heat in your chest shoots down your spine, into your cunt, and out into his mouth.

“Oh, fuck! Cumming!” you shriek, grabbing his head and pushing it harder into your cunt.

You look down to see your mate gulping loudly, swallowing every drop of sweep nectar that drips out of your aching hole. You pull his face away from your cunt suddenly, letting him gasp for air. Strings of your cum that connect your pussy to his lips break as he sits back into the dip of his feet.

His shoulders move up and down from how hard he’s trying to catch his breath, making choking noises in the process. His hands rest on his thighs as he hangs his head, your cum still dripping down his mouth onto his chest. You’re panting too, trying to come down from your high.

“You did well, sweetheart.” You praise him.

Using a single finger under his chin to tilt his head upwards, he parts his lips, panting small, hot breaths.

“Open wider.” You command. He opens wider, tilting his head back even more, and you spit directly into his mouth. He whimpers, completely under your trance. “Swallow.”

He swallows your spit greedily, licking his bottom lip, corner to corner. Your foot presses against his bulging, throbbing cock, causing him to whine under your touch.

“Since you were such a good boy, I’ll make you feel good.” You take your mates cock between your toes, providing him with just enough friction.

The strings of precum dripping from his throbbing cockhead coat your toes in a thick slick, allowing him to thrust his hips freely.

“Work for it, my little cumslut.” He bucks his hips into your toes, moaning and whining loudly.

“Nghh... y/n. Why are you acting this way?” he asks through shaky breaths, working for his climax.

“It’s your punishment.” You state, like it was a fact.

“What did I do, baby? Mmnnh…” he whimpers, his head dipping back from being almost there.

“You don’t know?” you pull back your foot.

He thrusts against nothing into the air, still trying to chase his orgasm. “Fuck. Please, y/n.” he begs, extending his hand to touch himself.

You kick away his hand and crouch over, taking off his blind fold to reveal his watery, drunk eyes, willing to do anything to cum. “What did you think of those girls?”

“I don’t know, y/n.” he whines, “...they were friendly, I guess”

“No.” you straddle him. “They were flirting. With my mate.” You take the entirety of his pulsing, swollen cock inside your slippery cunt in one thrust, already feeling his knot emerging.

You both moan in unison, as you feel the heat of each other mix together. You look into each other’s eyes, forehead to forehead, panting from the feeling.

“That’s your problem. You think people are just being nice when really...” you lift your hips up, “...they want your huge, fucking cock.” You slam your hips against his.

His eyes squeeze shut as he dips his head back, feeling overstimulated by your walls that clench tightly around his girth. “I’m sorry, baby” he whimpers, resting his head into your bosom as he runs his fingers up and down your back.

“You better be, you little slut.” You whine on his knot while you breath into his ear, “make it up to me... and give me this fat knot of yours.”

Hearing these words drive him into a frenzy, fucking you erratically and moaning loudly. Just as you feel his cock heat up, trying to burrow it’s knot into your cunt, you grab his jaw and turn it towards the mangroves.

“Look at the audience while you cum inside your mate.” He looks through the cracks of the mangroves to see three, bulging, glowing pairs of blue eyes watching them.

He’s so deep into the thick, hazy fog that it turns him on even more to know that they’ve been watching him be dominated this entire time. He thrusts into you even harder, even deeper, showing them that you’re his. You lick his neck, holding his head in position while you ride out your oncoming orgasm, moaning in his ear.

“Knot me. Show them you’re mine.” You moan, feeling your cunt start to pulsate around his cock.

He’s panting, staring at the blue eyes that stare at back at him while he ruts into you relentlessly, listening to your loud moans in his ear.

“Oh – oh shit. F-fuck! Cumming. Cumming!” he lets out lengthy whines, driving his knot into your cunt, tying you two together.

You turn your head to the direction of their glowing eyes, and smile, planting wet kisses all over your mates face, as he gasps for air. “That’s a good boy. I hope you learnt your lesson. All of you.”

Photo creds: sberrymango (on insta)

#neteyam sully #neteyam #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam smut #neteyam imagine #avatar #avatar smut #avatar x you #avatar way of water #metkayina #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #neteyam fic #neteyam x y/n

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abadbitchblogs · 3 months

Text

SOS

Part 1

Pairing: Jey Uso x black!OC x Damian Priest

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.2k

a/n: This is my very first piece and I'm so nervously excited for you all to embark on this journey with me. Shout out to @wrestlingprincess80 for being a mf hail mary. Thank you to anyone who takes their time to read my work! This will be a part of a mini series so stay tuned! All likes, comments, reblogs and feedback is greatly appreciated!

-divider by @cafekitsune

“To the biggest motherfucking return in WWE history! The brightest star is back, bitches!!!”

Glasses clinked together in a toast to celebrate Naomi returning to WWE; the section erupting in cheers and applause for their friend. Kennedy took a swig from whatever fruity cocktail was placed in front of her before throwing her arms around Trinity. “I'm so happy you're back! I missed you so much.” She gushed, almost squeezing the life out of her best friend. “And I'm glad to be back here with all of y'all. Don't get me wrong, the people over at TNA are cool, but this is home.” Anyone tuned into their conversation let out an ‘awww’ and reciprocated the sentiment. Naomi's return was trending #1 on every social media outlet after the Royal Rumble. All the superstars decided to hit the club as a welcome back celebration for Trinity.

Jon was taking advantage of the time he was finally getting with his wife after being apart for so long. Leaning closer to the couple, Ken brushed his arm off of Trin’s shoulder playfully to catch his attention. “MY other half is back and it's time to feel the glow!” She made sure she spoke loud enough for the twin to hear just for him to suck his teeth in response.``Man watch out. This is MY wife, okay?”, he scoffed, giving a dramatic eye roll like they were on a reality show. “If you miss me, just say that.” She let out a cackle at his over the top nature before getting up to give him a hug. “Yeah yeah yeah. Long time no see, Juice. I miss you or whatever.”

“Mhm i see you over there on the red side doing ya thing. I think you should've won that championship.” “Me too, but I'm just getting started! Damage Ctrl better keep their head on a swivel.” The smaller group agreed with an ‘I’ll drink to that’ thrown in their personal toast.

Back when they all got called up to the main roster from NXT, life was so lit. The four of them would travel together, room together, train together - do everything together. How many superstars could say the company favored them through injuries, drafts and creative uncertainty. When Trin married Jon, she gained an entire family she never knew she needed and being so far from home, Kennedy was grateful to not be alone.

Ken was from New Jersey but when her parents split up in middle school, she moved to Orlando with her father for a fresh start. Any kid would hate being the new girl, but when she met Trinity, it seemed like life just fell into place. They were on the dance team together, they graduated and danced for the Orlando Magic together, they joined FCW together and made it to WWE together.

Kennedy snapped out of her daze from the warmth enveloping her body which she wasn't sure if it was because of the liquor, or the reminiscing. The girls were catching up on all the tea they didn't get to share being on different brands when the air in the room shifted. It was stiff and humid like those stifling hot summer days that fucked up the freshest silk presses.

Joshua had finally made his appearance after doing press with Cody after his big victory for a second year in a row. He dapped up his twin then gave his sister in law a warm embrace but before he could entertain any interaction with Kennedy, she had gotten up to get another round of drinks.

When she got out of the section, she sucked in a breath so deep her lungs almost burst. She shuffled through the grinding bodies to get to the bar and ordered them another round of cocktails since everyone was keeping it light with them having to travel to the next city for RAW the following day. With a promise to have the drinks sent over to their section, she sulked back to the group and plopped down next to her bestie. Of course her big mouth husband couldn't just enjoy the moment with his nosey ass.

“Aye I know me and Trin ain't around like we used to be but at least you got the next best thing!” Jon patted his brother's chest as he laughed at his own jokey joke but she couldn't even spare a glance in that direction without feeling sick so replied with a low ‘mhm’ then chugged the rest of her lemon drop. Josh visibly stiffened at the comment making Jon's eyebrows furrow in confusion at the mood change. Before the couple in the middle could question the tense reaction, Shake Sumn blasted through the speakers. Kennedy hopped up with an excited squeal, pulling Trinity towards the dance floor. “I'm not leaving without a dance! Let's go!”

I don't know how to dance but can lean And make the ghetto bitches put they hands on they knees Make the ghetto bitches put they hands on they knees Make the ghetto bitches put they hands on they knees

They rarely had the same days off - let alone being able to go out and let loose so when they did, it was a movie. Ass was bouncing up, down, left, right, in a circle - you name it. They were throwing that shit. Josh was trying to be discreet as he watched Kennedy; his cup held in front of his face with his eyes peering over to the dance floor. That old flicker of desire and possession crawled up his back but was snubbed out when they made brief eye contact and her face scrunched up in disgust. She turned away letting the cold shoulder fill his veins with icy guilt.

The dance mix had their shoes discarded as they danced on each other like they were auditioning for a music video. Before the two really scrub the ground, the DJ cut the music per someone's request to dedicate a song their lady and of course it had to be their song.

This is for you, you, my number one This is for you, you, my number one Oh, yeah, yeah-yeah This is for you, you, my number one

Jon mosied over to take Ken’s spot while she slipped her shoes on to give them their husband and wife time. This time when she straightened up, Joshua's eyes were boring straight into hers, his hand itching to have her wrapped around him again. The warmth simmering in her stomach spread to her brain making her feel lightheaded. She made a beeline to the bathroom in search of relief from the bile rising in her throat. But of course Kennedy was stopped short just a few feet away from the door when a hand grabbed her wrist.

“Kennedy.” She didn't need to turn around to know who was keeping her from getting herself together. “Get off me.” His tone told her everything he was already going to say and she ain't wanna hear none of that shit. “Look, i just wanna talk. You been ducking me since I got to RAW.” Her composure completely slipped- his presence sending her into a blind rage. “NOW YOU WANNA TALK, NIGGA?!! YOU AIN'T WANNA TALK WHEN I WOKE UP AND YOU WERE GONE. YOU AIN'T WANNA TALK WHEN YOU FUCKING BLOCKED ME. AND YOU DAMN SURE AIN'T WANNA TALK WHEN YOU SHOWED UP TO OUR MOTHERFUCKING JOB WITH THE SAME WOMAN YOU SAID YOU WERE DONE WITH.” If he wanted to talk, she wasn't going to pull her punches. He was gon shut the fuck up and listen. “I'm not avoiding shit! If i'm not in your face like some groupie bitch it's because looking at you makes me physically sick and i wanna punch you in the damn face.” Trying to count backwards in her head was not working but if she didn't calm down she was gonna lose her job.

“Ken, I know I fucked up and I'm sorry! I wanna make it right. Please, just let me explain.” His pleading only pissed her off more like she owed him something. She thought she got over what happened between them but looking at him broke her heart all over again. Her anger was dippinginto the overwhelming grief she fought to get out of two years ago. “Nah, you know what? We cool. It was nothing. We were just going through some shit and used each other to feel better, right?” Turning to head back to the dance floor, she let her friends know she was gonna head out for the night under the guise of having to drive to Tampa the next day for RAW. Trinity thought they should leave too to make sure she got back to the hotel safe but she insisted they stay and enjoy their night together. After a quick round of hugs to their group partying in the VIP section, Ken flew out the club like a bat out of hell.

Her curls whipped wildly from the night breeze as she stood outside trying to get an Uber. A shiver wracked her curvy frame and she cursed herself for not wearing a jacket because the wind was tearing her little lace outfit up. Suddenly her mama's scolding of sacrificing being cold to look cute made her snicker. The heavy scent of leather filled her nostrils as a weight was set on her shoulders. “You shouldn't be out here by yourself, cariña.”

Turning around to face her savior, she gave him a sly smile. “Didn't think I'd see you here, Priest. This ain't a dive bar you know.” Her shot at him coaxed a surprised laugh to boom out of him. “You don't say? I must've gotten lost, but I'm glad I did. You look amazing,” The tall superstar slowly dragged his eyes from her white painted toes to her perfectly windswept hair, “But i can't imagine that net came with a coat.’’ Oh he was laying the charm on thick and she couldn't deny the turn of events was tantalizing. “Well I guess I should thank you for being such a gentleman, Senor Money In The Bank.” “How about you thank me by letting me give you a ride back to the hotel. It's late.” Who knew the leader of The Judgement Day would turn out be her knight in shining armor?

“Alright I'll take you up on that, but if you kidnap me it's going to look suspicious when we both don't show up tomorrow.” He chuckled again at her antics, shaking his head in disbelief before motioning her to his rental. “No funny business I promise, but trust me if I kidnapped you, you'd like it, muñeca.” Taken aback by the remark, she couldn't even think of anything to fire back, opting to climb her happy ass into his passenger seat. Their drive back to the hotel consisted of classic getting to know you banter. Favorite colors, taste in music, hometowns, dietary choices. It was a vibe - unexpected but welcomed. The chatter continued all the way up until the pair made it to her door just like he promised.

“This is me. Thanks again for rescuing me.” Kennedy leaned against her door to smile up at the mysterious Damian Priest. ”Anytime. Remind me to thank the gang for dragging me out.” She pulled his jacket from her shoulders then held it out to return back to him. “Oh I'll thank them at the show tomorrow. Gotta make sure I ruin your tough guy image." She teased as she unlocked her door only to be stopped for a second time that night. This touch was different. It was envigoraing.

“Do you think I could get your number? You know just in case there's an ax murderer in your room and you need saving again.” In a quick turn she leaned up on her tiptoes to press a lip gloss drenched kiss to his cheek. “I'll think about it. Goodnight.” She tossed a smirk over her shoulder as she retired to her room, leaving Damian in the hall anticipating their next encounter.

kenthedoll_

kenthedoll_ ACT BAD 🖤

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trinity_fatu THAT’S MY FRIEND ❤️‍🔥

↳kenthedoll_ 4lifers 🤞🏾

trinity_fatu man delete this you aint grown -Jon

↳kenthedoll_ 🙄

biancabelairwwe The finEST 😍

↳ kenthedoll_ That’s you ❤️

wrestlingprincess80 ik that’s right!

archerofinfamy 😈

↳kenthedoll_ 😊

↳ wwwfanatic03 oop 👀

#jey uso #jey uso x reader #jey uso fanfiction #jeysuso #damian priest x reader #damian priest #damian priest smut #jey uso smut #wwe fanfiction #wwe x reader #black reader #black authors #black writers #love triangle #black!reader #Spotify #jey uso imagine #damian priest imagine #wwe imagine

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badasbebe · 5 months

Text

Pretty enough for you yet?

pairing ; bada lee x fem!reader

summary ; rivalry between reader and bada. rivalry or maybe more?

content warnings ; smut, explicit language, fingering, eating out (lmk if I forgot one)

word count ; 1.6k

a/n ; y'all i love my wife so much <3 bada lee

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓, 18+ 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘, 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

Bada and I never got along, that’s for sure. Since we’re both in a very competitive industry, it’s hard to want to be liked by everyone. But with Bada, it just never clicked, no matter what I tried. She was a very good dancer, everyone could see that, but she always tried to make you feel smaller to uplift herself. Her cocky smile, her provocative behaviour, everything about her screamed confidence and I absolutely hate it. Nevertheless, I tried to put our bad past behind us for the sake of the show we’re both competing on. Yes, a bit of competition is good, but fighting 24/7 isn’t.

When the first introductions came around, we were the last ones to be introduced. As we walked down the stairs, we felt the numerous stares of all groups who were already seated, but one person almost burned holes in my face with her stares. I knew she was coming on the show, but that doesn’t change the fact that I was annoyed by it, by her.

Of course she had to shit-talk my group in the introduction video, and me being sub-leader, I responded in a very fair way. I decided to pick her as my no-respect dancer, and challenged her to a battle.

‘You sure you wanna go up against her? I know she said some things about us, but we’re not affected by it.’ My leader said, trying to hold me back. ‘What? You scared I’m gonna lose?’ I say with confidence before walking to the centre of the stage as my name was called out.

‘So, we’ve been warmly welcomed by everyone here, but to some of you we’re just ‘talentless people who just move around and look pretty’, so we’ll show you how absolutely wrong some of you are.’ I said as I quote the exact words Bada used when describing my group. ‘The no-respect dancer I pick to battle is Bebe’s Bada Lee.’ I say as I look her dead in the eyes, not breaking eye contact once.

‘Is there anything you’d like to say before the battle?’ Kang Daniel asks Bada. ‘Well, I would just like to say- know your place.’ She says with a shit-eating grin. Kang Daniel looks at me in anticipation of an answer. ‘I came here to dance, not to shit talk other groups.’ I say before handing the mic back and getting ready. Bada gets to go up first and Money by Cardi B starts playing.

(full dance of my beautiful wife here for reference: https://youtu.be/VyyjZVLqmLE?si=0Vtnx4MbzUTsnuy2 )

Everyone expected her to be good, hell even I did. She didn’t let me down, I was glad that I picked a worthy opponent. Going up against a weaker dancer just to secure a win is pathetic in my opinion, so I picked someone my own level. Once she came up to me, she stood still in front of me and looked right over the top of my head- cocky asshole.

Once she was done bragging about her height, it was my turn. Angels in Tibet by Amaarae started playing and, in my advantage, it was my go-to jam so I already had some moves up my sleeve.

(dance reference for reader: https://www.instagram.com/p/CyzVGFMoAwt/ )

As the song came to an end, I twerked in her direction, not breaking eye contact. Two can play this provocative game, Bada Lee. She smirked and I went back to my side of the dance ring, my team supporting me and the crews around me calming down after screaming on the top of their lungs.

We waited in anticipation for the result, and…

I won by 2-1 votes, close call. As they revealed their cards, I looked at Bada and said ‘did I look pretty enough for you?’ still quoting her words from earlier, and I just got a smirk and an eye-roll in return. I went back to my spot with my group, feeling content.

After a long morning of shooting, we finally got a break. My group split up, some were out to get food in the cafeteria, some were socializing with other groups, but I had other plans. Right as I saw Bebe go into their group room, I followed. I knocked on the door, shortly after revealing a surprised Lusher. ‘Hi, sorry to interrupt, just came to congratulate you guys.’ I said with a sweet smile. I have nothing against Bebe, especially since almost all members are genuinely sweet. Lusher thanked me and invited me in, but I politely declined and headed back to my own room. As I reach my door, I feel someone touch my shoulder- Bada. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she says, my plan is working. The thing with Bada is: underneath that cocky and confident façade, is a leader who’s very protective over her group. ‘Just came to congratulate you guys. I wanted to congratulate you too, second place is very impressive.’ I say with a smirk.

Before I know it, she opens the door, pushes me inside the room against the door and closes it. ‘It’s already very excruciating to have to be in the same place as you for the next few months, so I’d suggest you leave my crew alone.’ She says, looking pissed off. ‘And what it I don’t?’ I ask, looking up at her through my lashes. ‘If you don’t shut your mouth-‘ she tries to say. ‘Make me.’ I whisper.

Her lips smash against mine in a hungry battle. I knew she was touch starved based on how she looks at me, but I never knew she was this hungry for a kiss. She rips my buttoned top open, a few buttons falling but who cares?

Underneath that rivalry between us has always been some kind of lust for each other. I mean, can you blame us? Bada is not only an insane dancer, she’s also really attractive, and I just like to get under her skin sometimes.

I drag her to our couch, pushing her down and getting on her lap. ‘What? Cat got your tongue?’ I tease. I take off her shirt as I suck on her skin, leaving marks for everyone to see. ‘Fuck, don’t leave hickeys.’ She says while panting. ‘Too late.’ I say before slowly kissing my way down to her pants. I hear her groan as I apply the tiniest bit of pressure to her clothed clit with my hands. ‘Stop fucking teasing.’ She says. ‘You don’t make the calls, Bada.’ I say.

I rip her pants off, leaving her in a crew shirt and her panties. I trace kisses along the inside of her thigh, leaving her a groaning mess above me. I know just what to do to make her fold.

This isn’t the first time we’ve done this. Sometimes, when we’re in the same building practicing ‘till late at night, we bump into each other and throw snarky comments at each other. One night, she came into my practice room and started criticizing my whole routine. ‘Bada can you just leave? I really don’t wanna deal with you right now.’ I ask her in an exhausted tone. ‘What’s up baby? Can’t handle criticism anymore?’ she asks, babying me. ‘I really can’t fucking stand you.’ I say, looking her dead in the eye. ‘Sit on me then.’ She said dead serious. I think we all know what happened after that.

One thing about Bada is her hatred of teasing when she’s already aroused. I slowly pull her panties down, and run a finger along her slit as she hisses. As I insert a finger, she grabs my wrist. I start pacing my finger a little faster. ‘Fuck you’re so good.’ She says. It’s rare to see Bada not dominating, but she has her needy moments.

‘Didn’t really like what you said out there about me. Must suck to lose to such a talentless person, huh?’ I say as I pace my fingers faster. She moans something that sounds like ‘sorry’, but she’s too hazy to form a proper sentence. ‘What was that, baby? Didn’t hear you there.’ I tease, slowing my fingers down. ‘No- fuck- keep going. I’m sorry, I’m sorry baby. I didn’t- shit- I didn’t mean it.’ She says, panting like crazy. I add a second finger and she whimpers. ‘Was that a whimper, baby? Where’s that big mouth now?’ I tease.

I remove my fingers and she looks at me very confused. I bring my face closer to her wet cunt as I start eating her out. I hear her moan my name. ‘Let me hear you baby, loud and clear.’ I say as she starts moaning my name.

In a reflex, her hands start to grip at my hair. I feel her hands shake a little. ‘Fuck, I’m gonna cum baby. Please let me come.’ She begs. ‘Shouldn’t you be begging for forgiveness first?’ I tease. ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it I swear. Please I wanna cum.’ She says as I notice a tear rolls down her cheek from the overstimulation. ‘Cum for me baby.’ I say and she lets loose. Her stomach goes up and down as she tries to catch her breath.

I grab a towel from my luggage to clean her up, I’m still a decent human being. As I look up, I notice a camera.

She seems to realize it at the same time aswell. ‘Fuck.’ We both say as we look at each other. We burst out laughing and I help her clean up. She leaves in silence after a while, but before she steps out the door, she turns around and says: ‘Next time you dance like that, you’ll be the one begging under me.’ And she leaves the room. I smirk to myself, already in anticipation of next time.

#bada lee #bada x reader #swf2 x reader #bada lee smut #swf2

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runningfrom2am · 2 months

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cold nights // part twenty-four

summary: you were back in the capitol, and you would be damned if you didn't try your hardest to make it worthwhile.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.5k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: yayyyy omg i didn't mean to wait so long to post this sorry y'all. also i think i have a coryo oneshot on the way soon maybe. unrelated to BOTH of these series, which is unheard of from me lol. oh, and i'm planning a few for this series for once it's done. (which is creeping up on us, somehow)

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

"Coryo." Tigris says as he comes back from walking their grandmother back to her room. With the "horrible" news that a District girl would be living with them, she insisted she had to lie down or she may just die.

"She's fine." He waves his cousin off, brushing past her to grab your bag for you. "Just her typical theatrics, she'll love Y/N when she gets to know her. Don't worry."

"It's not grandma'am I'm worried about." She whispers, grabbing his arm to stop him.

"Y/N?" He frowns, pausing and looking at her. "Is she okay? God- I was scared of grandma'am saying something like that to her..."

"She's fine, but you called her 'love', Coryo. In the elevator. Is she your girlfriend now, or something like that?" Tigris asks, looking back down the hall to make sure neither you nor their grandmother were overhearing.

"I mean, kind of? Not really, I don't know." He stammers, avoiding her eyes. "We never talked about it."

"Coryo!" She hisses. "If grandma'am finds out she'll have a heart attack!"

"Okay, then she doesn't have to know yet. As I said, one, we haven't talked about it and two, grandma'am will get used to her eventually and it will be fine."

"I know that." Tigris sighs, taking a step back and rubbing her head. "I'm making up the guest room for her. Just... don't let grandma'am find out."

"Obviously not." He mutters, picking up your bag to carry into the guest room.

"But Coryo-" She stops him in his tracks and he turns, looking at her expectantly. "Don't think I'm not happy for you, okay? She's incredibly sweet. Just... keep it between you guys for now. Be gentle with her."

He nods, giving her a small smile before carrying on down the hall.

When Coryo opens the door to his bedroom, you're sitting in the middle of the floor, leaning over your crossed legs as you write against the floor. "Y/N/N." He laughs slightly, closing the door behind himself. "What are you doing?"

You look up, and can't help but smile when you see him. "Hi." You grin, straightening up and standing, unfinished letter and pencil still in hand. "I was writing a letter to Lennox."

"On the floor?"

"Yes."

"There's a perfectly functional desk right behind you, love." He points as he closes the gap between the two of you.

"Yes, well, I did not want to overstep or seem nosey." You explain, looking at the desk and then back up at him.

He smiles, placing his hands on your waist. "This is my room."

"Exactly."

"What I meant," He chuckles, thumbs running over the sides of your stomach on your top. "Is that you can do whatever you want."

"Oh, well, thank you." You nod, looking down at the bed. "I'm glad to hear that because Tybs has already taken over your bed."

When he follows your eyes to the cat sprawled out on top of his sheets, he laughs. "See? He's already made himself at home."

"I am so sorry, I tried to keep him off. His hair gets on everything." You quickly say, already reaching to pick up your stubborn cat again.

"I have a lint roller." He shrugs, grabbing your wrist to stop you and leaning down to kiss your cheek.

"A lint roller?"

"Oh, love..." He chuckles, crouching down slightly to be able to pull you closer as he lifts you and spins you in a circle.

You laugh, trying not to crush your letter as you hold onto him.

"I can't wait to show you everything. You're going to love it here." He grins, letting you back down onto your feet. "I know you will."

You bite your lip over a fading smile, nodding up at him.

"I know it's scary, I know that." He assures you, once again running his hands up and down the side of your waist. "But you'll get used to it, and you'll be happy here. I promise."

"How are you finding things so far?" Tigris asks, curious as you make eye contact with her while making an extremely conscious effort to not spill the tea from the cup in your hand. It felt so delicate in your hands, and you have never felt filthier- as if just sitting on their couch or touching their things would ruin them. "Not that you've seen much, yet."

"It's..." You start, deciding just to put the steaming tea down so you don't spill it on your lap. "It really is like I've never been here before. Which is nice, because I was scared to come back, if I am being totally honest."

"I can imagine." She nods in understanding.

"When, um, when I was last here," You clear your throat. "We didn't see much of anything. We were always moved in vehicles with no windows except for the funeral, so..."

We.

"You could see some of the city from the zoo, though." Coryo adds.

"I could." You nod, swallowing over the dryness suddenly overbearing in your mouth. "Tigris, Coryo says you're a designer?" Changing the subject was the only thing you could do to help it.

"Yes, well, I'm trying." She laughs.

"My Ma is a seamstress." You tell her. "She's made everythin' I've ever worn." The way your District accent seems to reappear makes Coryo smile to himself- that's who you were at home. He can hear the tension and nerves leaving your tone.

"Really?" She smiles. "That's amazing. I've made much of our clothes, too, but it's just so hard to find the time."

"It is extremely time-consuming." You agree, looking over at Coryo next to you as he pats your shoulder. He points to the tray of snacks Tigris had brought out, and you reach out to take a cookie. You hadn't eaten all day, which was likely contributing to your shakiness. Though, you also hadn't felt hungry at all since you left home.

"Your mother is very talented." Tigris says, taking a sip of her tea and gesturing to the skirt and top you were currently wearing. "Does she embroider too?"

You look down, taking note of the detailing on the trim of your sweater. "Yes. All by hand."

"I've never tried it, I wouldn't know where to start." Tigris laughs.

"Oh, me neither." You laugh slightly, shaking your head. You did know, you weren't as good at it as your ma, but she still put in the effort of teaching you the basics.

"Don't talk too much about this- Tigris will turn you into a human pin cushion." Coryo teases, looking back to the hall to make sure grandma'am hadn't somehow made an early recovery and come out of her room before he can place his arm over your shoulders.

"Oh, hush." She laughs, pretending to throw a cookie at him as you chew slowly on yours, smiling. They remind you of you and Lennox, almost. The way they talk to each other, and how much it's obvious they love each other. Anywhere in Panem, kids are just kids.

The wave of a sick, gut-wrenching feeling hits you so fast that you stand up before you can even think about it. "Would you excuse me?" You mumble, turning and retreating down the hall to look for the bathroom Tigris pointed out earlier without even hearing either of their responses.

By the time you gently close the door and slide the lock shut, you're near hyperventilating. You hadn't even said goodbye to your own brother. You wrote him a note promising to write him every week and call once they had the phone that Coryo left them money for, but it wasn't enough. The idea of him waking to find you just gone, again, was all it took to have you sliding down the wall and curling up with your knees to your chest.

You were alone, and you missed your brother. Your family, the Covey. You should have said a longer goodbye to Lucy Gray, you should have woken Lennox and faced his anger about you leaving because that would mean you could have at least given him a hug. You felt like an awful sister, and an awful friend.

Even as you screw your eyes shut to try and pretend you're in your own bathroom, it doesn't do a thing to hold back the tears that have begun to stream freely down your face.

You have to be quiet.

What helped last time? Last time, you ran over lines. Coryo asked you to talk to him. Coryo was there.

Oh, she tore the letter into a thousand half-pence; railed at herself, that she should be so immodest to write to one that she knew would flout her. 'I measure him,' says she, 'by my own spirit; for I should flout him, if he writ to me; yea, though I love him, I should.

Thinking about it does very little as well, so you continue. With your forehead pressed to your knees, random lines and quotes flow through your head and are endlessly whispered from your lips. You don't have time to think of anything else.

You were getting better at managing your own panic attacks before Coryo came to Twelve, but since then you had been set back to square one. The games ended over two months ago now, and it still feels like it was only a week ago; the shock had worn off and you felt like you were losing your mind. Other times, other days, you were completely fine. As if none of it had ever happened, but would this move be the beginning of round three? Was this what your life was now? A never-ending cycle of feeling normal followed suddenly by the need to pull yourself up and out of rock bottom?

You didn't know if you could take it.

The nightmares came back day in and day out in that first week. You hadn't slept well, and you only left the apartment a small handful of times and even that was only for the sake of sending letters, getting things for Tybalt, and taking him to the vet.

Coryo really wanted you to get out with him for something you wanted to do or see, but at the same time, he understood why you wouldn't want to leave. When you finally agreed to leave with him, to go to the university campus with him to pick up an application and so he could give you a tour, he felt like a kid on Christmas morning.

"So, we live in The Corso. That main street we were just on, obviously. That's where all the Capitols Elites live, for the most part." Coryo explains, but you're having trouble paying attention. There were just so many people. You'd seen large groups of people before in Twelve, at the market or The Hob or the reaping, but never when everyone looked so different. At the same time, this also made it easier for you to blend in. Hardly anyone had stopped you, and you hoped it would be less and less from here on out. "Hey- you still with me?"

You look up at him, nodding. "Yes, that's lovely."

"You have no idea what I just said, do you?" He laughs, reaching out to gently fix the orange scarf you had draped around your neck and over your head that had begun to slide back over your hair. It was another effort to hide- it made you feel safe. You intended to return the scarf to him, but he insisted you keep it. Suddenly, you went nowhere without it.

"Sorry, it's just... quite loud. There's a lot of people." You explain, and he has to lean down slightly to hear you.

"Yeah, well, it is a Monday morning." He says, tucking his hands into his pockets. "Lots of people going to work."

You just nod, subconsciously drifting closer to his side as you walk.

"I was just saying that this is the route we'll take to get to school." Coryo grins, gently nudging your side.

"If I get accepted."

"You will." He assures you. "I don't doubt it for a minute."

Walking onto what must be the university campus, you already see fewer people. Classes for the fall semester didn't begin for a couple of weeks, Coryo said, so that allowed you to tour the buildings and property peacefully after you picked up your application.

It was another ornate building- outside and in, you realized as Coryo opened the double doors for you. You look around, eyes wide.

"Nice, hey?" He smiles, taking your hand. "Come on, the registrar's office is this way."

You follow him blindly down a few hallways, looking up at the tall ceilings and the paintings and out the windows and even at the architecture of the building itself. It was a lot to take in, but you were pleased it was so quiet. It wouldn't always be like this, and given that you do get accepted the way he promised, you wouldn't have time to process the beauty of it later.

Entering the office behind Coryo, you decide to keep your position mostly behind him as he walks up to the desk. There's not an ounce of hesitation in his gait- or in the smile on his face. He's all confidence. This is him in his natural state- it was nice to see him truly happy.

"Good morning, Mister Snow, what can we do for you? Did you want a paper copy of your schedule?" The woman behind the counter asks him, neatly stacking some papers and placing them down next to some books on her desk.

"Hello," He grins. "I actually was hoping I could get another copy of the application forms."

"Oh? Registration and acceptance closed weeks ago."

"I know that, but..." He steps to the side, nodding for you to join him. Nervously, you do, grabbing his hand under the counter. "This is Y/N, she'd like to apply. I know it's late but she just moved to the city so I was hoping we could work around it."

The woman's eyes widen. "I- Uh, yes, okay. Yes. We can certainly try." She nods quickly. "What program will you be applying for, Miss Y/L/N?" Of course she knew who you were, and maybe now it would benefit you.

You look up at Coryo, but he just nods at you to answer. "Oh, um, English Literature, please." You answer quietly.

"Arts." Coryo corrects you kindly, squeezing your hand and nodding to her.

"Alright, let me just grab those for you." She smiles, heels clicking on the floor as she walks toward a back room.

"And I would like my schedule, if that's possible!" Coryo calls after her and she turns to give him a quick nod before disappearing behind a polished dark-wood door. "English Lit will be your major, love, but you don't need to decide on that yet." He whispers to you.

"Gosh, I'm already embarrassing myself." You laugh slightly.

"No, no you're not. It's a little confusing. I should have told you."

"I didn't know registration was already closed, Coryo." You frown. "If it's inconvenient for them we should just go. I'll just find a job instead."

"Nonsense." He shakes his head. "Like I said, they want you here. They will make it happen, trust me."

"That's not fair though, is it?"

"It's more fair because you couldn't have handed it in on time if you wanted to." He says, dropping your hand in favour of sliding his onto your lower back.

"I suppose..."

"Okay! I've got it here..." The woman reappears and you paint on your smile, reaching out for the small folder as she walks up. "There's the application and some testing questions. If you could get it to us by tomorrow night that would be amazing."

"Yes, of course, I-"

"Tomorrow night?" Coryo asks, eyebrows raised at her. "Miss, respectfully, I worked on my application for weeks, and my tests were conducted by the school."

"You'll do just fine. Just try your best." She winks at you and he purses his lips, displeased that they hardly were even giving you a chance to submit an adequate application that would accurately reflect the extent of your intelligence.

"Thank you." You tell her honestly, clutching the stack of papers to your chest. "I shall have it done tomorrow."

Coryo assumes it must be different- shorter or lacking one (or several) of the essay portions. He grabs his schedule from her with a small smile, nodding before guiding you out of the room.

"Are you hungry or anything, love?" He asks you, sliding his hand up your back to rest between your shoulder blades as you move down the same empty hall. "I could show you around and then we could stop on our way back."

You chew your lip, papers clutched against your chest. "Perhaps you can give me the tour tomorrow when we come back to drop this off?" You ask, looking up at him. "I think it is more important I go home and get this finished, there is no time to waste."

He smiles, leaning over to kiss the crown of your head while you walk. "Yes, of course. Whatever you want."

'The lessons we take from obstacles we encounter can be fundamental to later success. Recount a time when you faced a challenge, setback, or failure. How did it affect you, and what did you learn from the experience?'

Staring at the essay question on the page didn't make it any easier to answer. You almost wish you had started with this so you had more time, rather than filling out all the personal information on the first and second pages and the financial information Coryo helped you with.

The answer was painfully obvious. You didn't want to write about the games, how they challenged you both mentally and physically, and what you learned from them. A lot about yourself, very little about the city you now found yourself living in.

Tapping your pen against the desk, you roll over in your mind how you want to word this. It was a delicate line to walk- it had to be honest, but also favourable to the people who lived here.

"Coryo?" You call out, turning in your chair and standing up to head across down the hall to his room.

He had left the door open, laying overtop of his ironed bedsheets and reading one of the many books you brought for him. "Can you come help me, please?"

He smiles, dropping the book immediately. "What do you need?"

"The essay... I don't know what to write." Mostly a lie, you just needed clarification on the best possible route to take the paper.

"What was the question again?" He asks as he gets up.

"What is a challenge I faced, how did it affect me, and what did I learn from it."

"What about the games?" He suggests as he brushes past you, heading into your room as you trail behind.

"Well, yes, but I don't know how to best approach it. I feel like that is a very delicate subject from my perspective." You explain. "I want to be honest but I also want them to like it."

Coryo hums, leaning over your desk to look at what has been completed on the application so far. "That's... yeah that's tough." He agrees. "If you were to answer it fully honestly, no watering it down for them, what would you want to say?"

"That..." You pause, thinking about it for a moment. "That it ruined my life. I'll never be the same person again- and neither will my loved ones, and I learned that my morals crumbled quickly under pressure." And that it's better to die in the games than live to tell the tale.

"Okay, so... it gave you a new outlook on life and a more profound appreciation for the life you had before, and you learned that people can change quickly to adapt and overcome their circumstances," Coryo says, and you frown. "Not that it is necessarily true, but that's what they'd like to hear and you wouldn't be completely lying."

He was good at twisting words and telling people what they wanted to hear in order to get what he needed from them; after all, he'd been doing it his whole life just to stay alive. His future depended on it, but you had never noticed that before. Maybe that came with a Capitol education, 'people pleasing' could be a course they taught at his academy, you wouldn't know. Power is everything here, apparently.

"And... I suppose if I had to think of an honestly good thing, I did make some friends out of it." You say, smiling up at him hopefully.

"And I am so glad," He nods, patting your shoulder. You always tried to look at the bright side- he remembered getting that impression from you even just watching the reaping. "But you can't include that."

"Why not?" You tilt your head at him.

"They won't like it, love. I mean, I would, but unfortunately, it's not for me to read."

"I see. Okay." You nod, biting your tongue. Your priorities had to shift if you wanted to get into the university, and that is a condition you could accept with a bit of practice.

"Want me to stay in here?" Coryo offers. "In case you have more questions?"

"I would like you to stay regardless." You giggle, sliding your arms around his waist to hug him.

"Good." He chuckles. "I didn't want to leave."

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl , @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs, @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie, @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore , @strawberryflavouredkisses

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

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f-t-e · 6 months

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I started watching SUPERNATURAL in November 2020. I know, I know. My partner and I had been isolating alone since March. The timing felt right. I went though a wild amount of upheaval and trauma over the next year and SPN was there for me through it all. It was THE show at THE time and it kept me afloat when I needed it the most. Since November 2021 I've written just about 110,000 words of SPN fanfic, a number that seems unbelievable to me, and that too has been a real blessing to my creative life, no matter what haters say. (why didn't I write my own novels in that time? Because I have a hobby, Karen, and I love it.) And I've read about 500000x that much fanfic, which has been the biggest blessing of all. (ETA: oh right, if you want to read my fic, you can find my stuff here, I wrote a fic where Dean reads books. Lots of books.)

I know I'm a nobody in this fandom but I thought on this, our #DestielDay, I would submit my own humble rec list. I've curated this very deliberately: every fic here has just about 4000 hits or less (most under 3000) and all were published in 2020 or after. So, sort of a rec list for some lesser known and newer fics, something you maybe haven't stumbled on yet. Especially thank you to @jewishcharliebradbury, her rec lists gave me a place to start back in the day and I have tried to model the depth and quality they brought to their lists. I tried to link to everyone's tumblr, but if I missed one, let me know.

Most of all, thank you to everyone who has EVER created something for this fandom, from 2005 to 2023. I am so thankful and, honestly, honored to be among your number. You're not supposed to be cringe and say a show saved your life...but SUPERNATURAL saved me, it really did. See y'all when the movie/reboot drops, to quote Ryan Gosling in The Notebook: IT WASN'T OVER, IT STILL ISN'T OVER. And I'm glad.

-----

Finale Fix-It & S15 and Beyond

What The Moon Was Saying by Amiril (@runawaymarbles)

This is hands-down one of the coolest “Dean Rescues Cas from the Empty” fics I have ever read and the concept is brilliantly structured to mirror the literal and metaphorical things Dean needs to give up and let go to get free. Every scenario is very satisfying and they make sense, is there any better feeling? Dean is very open in this, but in a believable way that still has edges. And, oh, the reunion is so good. Plus all the family stuff. Just excellent, exactly what you want in a fic like this: lovely, well-written, smart, fulfilling, all the pieces clicking, the show but better.

Awake and Annoying by skycruise

I love the use and passage of time in this one, it has some real impact, and I love the way Dean gets into the Empty (so smart, fits just right) and what I REALLY love in this one is the way it lets Dean be really clear-eyed and honest about his relationship with Sam, both the strengths and the weaknesses. And the last line, very clever and moving inverse of one of fandom’s favorite things.

Living the life you chose by allthismusic

THEEEEE post finale Sam Winchester-Outsider-POV this fandom needs. Sam is absolutely awesome in this, the most believable, loving, realistic mix of “I knew all along” and “I had no idea” versions of Sam, landing somewhere I think that’s really true and in character. It fills in and develops so many gaps and silences in what the show let Sam know in the absolute best way. Best Brother Sam is a weakness of mine and he really shines here, there for Dean in the best ways but also coming into his own, I love it so very much. (this author also has a very great 2022 Big Bang fic, hugely recommend that one too.)

your ear to the wound that whispers by EmandFandems (@lazarusemma)

Who doesn’t love a HANDPRINT FIC?!? And boy this is such a good one. It follows Dean and his thoughts on the handprint from the first touch all the way to fixing the finale and it simply buzzes with longing and desire, tenderness and rawness. It’s great insight in lot of ways into Dean’s journey. It’s short but fulfilling and oh that very perfect last line. (this author also has a lot of great Jupernatural content.)

Somewhere Off in the Dark by magickastiel

Another awesome fic that traces Dean’s shifting/growing feelings for Cas from when he shows up in his hotel rooms to a HEA fix it after canon. Dean, again, is handled so deftly in this one, his confusion and sorrow at all the times Cas is slipping away from him all the way through the things he won’t let himself know. He feels really true in this one, sharp and tender in the best Dean ways. Also it has an agonizingly romantic end, you love to end up there.

Pins and Feathers by theskywasblue (@buttherewasnogod)

This author has so many freaking good SPN fics, omg it was almost impossible to pick just one to include on this list. Go treat yourself with their entire list because there’s so much good stuff there! But this one, oh I am a sucker for a finale fix-it that lets Dean be this tender. While I LOVE fics where he just jumps right into Cas’s arms (and write them lol) I also feel like this is so true to Dean too: that “maybe I misunderstood, maybe I shouldn’t say anything, maybe he doesn’t still –” And on top of all that, it’s a “they go the beach” fic and it gets the details of it so right, sand in your toes and all. Tender, amazing slow-burn, real, hot, full of heart and longing and everything unspoken and just waiting. Very satisfying!

i loved you first by kalmialatifolia

A set of four short fics that create an entire world of feeling and emotion. These feel like little whispered stories told under the covers, very atmospheric. There’s one very sexy one, a haircutting one (so good) and they’re just intimate. All together a great set and did I mention they’re in the “Cas saves himself” genre which is mmmm an underrated treasure.

no other faith is light enough for this place by anonymous

A fix-it fic that has a particularly unique and beautiful visual of both how and why Cas comes back. The mechanics behind it are fairly standard but the way this author creates the visual of it, the sheer emotion and force behind it and how it happens, it really stood out to me and stuck with me. It’s Dean being brave enough to really feel and the way that just blossoms – lovely, aching, full-tilt wonderful.

no proof, one touch by TakeThisWaltz (@watchinghimrakeleaves)

One thing I absolutely cannot get enough of is fic where Cas is hiding out from Dean in heaven. It just hits. And the only thing better is Dean chasing him down and the WAY he does it in this fic, methodically and – well the method (sobs) it is so endearing and OBVIOUS and gives Dean a chance to shout in all the best ways. This one is just real sweet and kind of goofy and if they have to be in heaven, I want them to still be these same two dorks.

Stay by redbrickrose

This is a post S15x18 from Cas’s POV and I think it’s very true to where he would be in the moment of getting yanked out of the Empty: resigned, hesitant about what he has in front of him, still a little in shock. And then. And then. Sweet and simple and Dean gets a chance to say, say, say it. This author has a good post series AU and a lovely little spate of S15 codas, all good. And then wrote this in real-time in the week after 15x18 Despair and right before 15x19 Inherit the Earth aired (could you just sob over the possibilities?!) and then hasn’t wrote anything since and that’s a shame but, like, yeah I get it.

like a one-two punch by Muir_Wolf (@muirmarie)

Don’t you love a short fic that feels like it’s a whole novel? This goes AU after 14x20 Moriah but it is a truly delightful twist on how Chuck could’ve reacted there and it makes Dean sharp as a knife, which is one really resonant image woven through this fic. Great imagery here and so many clever solutions for the lazy plotting of S15, including simply one of my all-time favorites in any fic ever solutions to Cas’s deal (genius) and getting rid of Chuck. Brilliant like a puzzle box yet still full of so much fucking joy.

maybe i like pleasure pain by tothewillofthepeople (@kvothes)

The fact that this was written in October 2023 and is so agonizingly good fills my heart with joy and tells me Destiel will never die lol. Cas, in particular, is great in this – he’s having a hard time adjusting to being in a body and with all the fuzz of the world. I love fics where Cas struggles with coming back from the Empty and this uses a really unique approach to it: Cas facing sensory overload and not knowing how to feel but wanting it all. Lovely, hot, Dean is just right in this too.

Earlier Canon (pre S15)

Proverbs 13:12 by starlingcas (@angelcasendgame)

Many might say I am biased because Renu has beta’ed everything I have written in the SPN fandom and they can read my brain and make everything I write better. But it’s not just that. Renu has done something beautiful and delicate in this fic, which is about Dean and Cas getting trapped in a net together (forced proximity trope, yes please) and weaves a web of its own; pulling you in just as they are pulled together. This is set mostly in early S14 (before fixing the finale in the most heart-healing way) and captures that feeling so well. There’s so much that’s unsaid between them yet still conveyed and Renu absolutely nails that, along with the tender longing that was always there. This is a fic to relish.

you may tire of me (as our december sun is setting) by deludedfantasy

You know how the show just sometimes is like “uh so anyway uh then Cas…uh…left.” and it just doesn’t make one lick of sense? FINALLY FINALLY a fic where Dean says “I’ll go with you,” and then goes because he actually would do that. This is a post Tombstone fic so it is exactly where/when he WOULD go and it is tender and hesitant and aching in just all the ways it would be between the two of them at this time. It’s about needing to keep someone in sight, it’s about having another chance to say something so important, it’s slow and soft and just right for the characters in this place. I could read this one about 100 times.

the anatomy of flightless birds by cowlovely (@dollhousemary)

This fic is basically the way you feel when you get all cozy and snug underneath your favorite blanket. This is a domestic-life-in-the Bunker S9 fic where everyone behaves like they are in character and not just like they have to get Cas off screen because the writers panicked. You’ll just want to curl up in this fic and savor it the way you wrap your fingers around a hot beverage on a very cold day, there’s no better way to describe it.

virtue by JenTheSweetie

I think I’ve read this about 100 times and it still gets me everytime? It’s a five things fic about Dean and Cas hooking up and it’s all you’ve ever wished for. This is set in an amorphous S8 and it is not just agonizingly hot but also romantic and very funny. It feels really in character! Sam is hilarious, Dean is clueless but bowled over and letting himself be swept up, Cas is delighting in every second and smarter than he lets on and it ALL feels fated and lovely and sexy and just splendid. (this author only has 3 SPN fics but they are all so good and if you try sometimes, well you just might find is an absolutely brilliant deconstruction of Dean learning the differences between “needing” and “wanting.”)

Romance at the Motel 6 by shelia_amour

This fic makes me feel like Stefon from SNL. This fic has everything: Cas and Sam pretending to be married, just the right amount of jealous Dean, Dean randomly pretending to be married to Cas, Dean realizing maybe this isn’t so fake after all, motel vibes, Cas in Dean’s clothes, Cas getting bee slippers. If you are not sold on this already, we are very different people. So good, aches just right. (set in a kind of “whenever” of canon, but I like to put it somewhere in S8.)

que sera sera by Purple_Starflower (@hauntedpearl)

The epitome of how fanfic unfolds for us all the things that COULD happen. You can’t PROVE to me Dean and Cas never snuck off to snuggle and feed Dean’s touch-starvation early in S13. I had to check when I finished because I just couldn’t believe this fic was under 4000 words because it feels so full of touch, longing, the things unspoken, and all the ways Dean was reaching, reaching, reaching. The best kind of ache, and everything by this author is lovely.

the hard edge that you’re settling for by lesspopped (@trekkiedean)

This is some S10 Demon!Dean that made my stomach hurt and my heart ache and I absolutely loved it and I absolutely hated it and it all felt so REAL with who Demon!Dean was and could have been. There’s a TW for mildly dubious consent in this, but to me, Cas was so agonizingly true to who he was/where he was at this point in canon too. This fic is gloriously, claustrophobically intimate. I say unbearable because as a reader you know that this closeness, this intimacy, is what Dean wants/craves/deserves but can only give himself as a demon and the author does an exquisite job at getting all that across. Hurts so good!

four of swords by sundryvillians (eurythmix) (@perenial)

Can the world ever have enough post 12x12 fic? The answer is, of course, no. Dean and Cas bake bread and in the soft space of creating something with their own hands, get so close to the words Cas said. It’s about healing and anger and making something just because you are so tired of everything breaking. If that alone isn’t enough to convince you, let me also throw in this is another one of those “possible off-screen moments in canon” that gives them something honest and tender and raw and it feels so very possible.

Fifteen Prayers From the Faithless by koyas_cat

Short, achy, that sweet sting. A set of prayers for Cas from the beginning to the end, full of all the things Dean doesn’t let himself say outloud and just reflecting the changes in their connection over alllll the years. So good.

#spn #spn fanfic #destiel fic #fic recs #destiel day #deancas fic recs #supernatural #destiel #happy anniversary #don't forget you're here forever

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runa-falls · 11 months

Text

scratches and bites - 2

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Warnings: Could be a little off-canon for some characters, lots of plot, slight angst, Miguel is an helicopter mom, reader just wants some friends :(

a/n: ok. i didn't realize how much i wanted to put into this chapter so spicy stuff is coming NEXT chapter. promith. i've already written some of it. anyway, i'm glad y'all are enjoying my O'Hara content. I hope this lives up to your expectations lmfao

Summary: Miguel O'Hara is a grumpy man and you make him grumpy. You regularly go against his orders, create chaos, and invite danger. This is what you've been doing since he swept you away.

w/c: 2.2k

series masterlist | main masterlist

----

So being “Spider-Woman” turned out to be harder than you thought. It’s not all swinging from and shooting webs like you imagined. Apparently, there’s a spider-specific physical regimen you’re required to keep up with. Every day.

You’re almost convinced that you’re being hazed into the spider-verse community because you are yet to see anyone else doing upside-down web squats on a 100-story building. Not to mention the life-threatening training simulations you were thrown into as soon as you arrived in Nueva York.

“They can’t hurt you, Kid. They’re holograms.”

“Yeah, that’s what they want you to think O’Hara, but my ass has been kicked enough to prove differently.”

“Alright, well they can’t kill you.”

Miguel has been “training” you for the last few months to become the best Spider-Woman you can be, pushing you harder than you’ve ever been pushed before. Though these days, this “training” is actually just him telling Parker to drill you in whatever he thinks will work.

O’Hara attempted to do it himself for like three days, and it turns out he’s too impatient to take in a spider apprentice or even be in a room where you do anything but exactly what he commands.

You should’ve expected it.

Sure, Miguel is a naturally grumpy man, but you swear he has it out for you. He literally tenses whenever you enter the room and makes sure to barely meet your eyes when he’s forced to talk to you.

Actually, ever since you were dropped in the middle of Spider-Central, O’Hara has been ignoring you. Treating you like the plague. Always making the excuse that he’s too busy with things that are far more important than anything you’d ever have to say. As if he wasn’t the one who forced you to come with him in the first place…

It’s not fair. He was literally all you had.

Months ago, he showed you a side of him, the one that convinced you that he actually brought you here for a reason, but now he can’t even look at you. Sure, you’re a particularly slow learner, and one that never really liked PE, but you deserve some slack. You left everything for him – for them.

Meeting people who’ve gone through similar circumstances as you was quite interesting, to say the least. And it doesn’t stop at people either. Spider cars, dinosaurs, and cats were just the beginning.

You’ve made a few friends. There’s Gwen, a 15 (or was it 16?) -year-old who mostly talks about her friend Miles, music, and…uh, Miles. It’s sweet how she gushes on about some guy without fully realizing how into him she is. Miles sounds great, really great, but you’ll probably never get to meet him because of the number of restrictions placed on your watch. Fucking O’Hara and his parental controls.

Gwen is cool, she plays the drums and can do a bunch of acrobatic things that you’d never even attempt, but she’s also almost a half-decade younger than you. There’s only so much you can talk about before you start getting homesick. Of course, despite her young age, she’s still given more responsibilities and missions than you. If Miguel has one hobby, it would be undermining everything you do.

“She’s been in the game longer than you have.” He always makes that excuse.

And you always counter it with: “But I’m older! I can do more than just scream for help!”

“This isn’t a discussion.” That honestly might be his favorite phrase to shut you up these days. “You’ll be called on when you’re ready, Kid.” And that.

“I am ready. And stop calling me that. I’m not a kid, I’m 20 years old!”

“Yeah, whatever.”

There’s also Peter Parker, your reluctant coach. He’s…something else. Sure, he’s your friend, but he’s more like a substitute teacher and crazy uncle type of guy. Usually, he listens to everything Miguel says, acting like a glorified babysitter, but sometimes, he’s up to bend the rules on some things.

Once he let you visit his dimension, claiming you’d need some real-life experience as a “friendly-neighborhood spider-woman”. You spent that day chasing down petty robbers and helping old ladies cross the road. Sure, it was a small field trip, but that was only the third dimension you’d traveled to at the time.

Parker is also always trying to get you to hold his daughter whenever she comes to work claiming that “it’ll be good for your mental health, trust me.” Of course, for Parker, every day is “bring-your-kid-to-train-the-new-spider-woman-day”. And really, you don’t mind holding her, but not when you’re in the middle of sparing 5 of Doc Ocks tentacles.

The baby is adorable, but you do worry about how she crawls up the walls. Parker doesn’t seem fazed. Actually, neither does O’Hara.

Sometimes you wonder if O’Hara wants kids one day. He certainly handles Mayday like a pro, letting her crawl over his shoulders and paperwork. Would he possibl– No, actually, it doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter, because he left you. He’s not – couldn’t even be an option. – Anyway…

Parker and Mayday are nice company and the only real constants in your life, but you really just want to be a consistent part of the team. You don’t know how much longer you can spend your days doing swinging drills and spider crunches (don’t even ask). But Parker has actually been your rock these past months, to give him credit. He’s one of the few people that makes you feel like you belonged in this distorted array of spiders and dimensions.

Then there’s Hobie.

The first time you met him you probably had literal stars in your eyes. Donned with a spiked vest and several facial piercings, he caught your attention right away. He catches everyone’s attention. Even his suit is cooler than everyone else’s with a spiked mohawk that surely gets in the way.

Unfortunately, just as you were hoping to take on the Brit as your mentor for all things spider, he was decidedly off-limits, courtesy of O’Hara. Apparently, his rebellious nature and brash energy make him a “bad influence”.

“Seriously? You should be glad that I’m taking a bigger interest in my training.” You have your hands posted up on your hips, trying to make yourself look bigger than you actually are. Damn, O’Hara and his domineering presence!

He rolls his eyes openly, genuinely already done with the conversation. “Yeah…your ‘training,’ sure.”

“What is that supposed to mean!” You practically whine it out.

“Don’t get distracted gatita, just do as you’re told.”

“Ok, what does that mean? I don’t speak Italian.”

“That was Spanish dumbass.”

Of course, that doesn’t stop you from hanging out with him anyway (though he’s not around as much anymore). Who knew making friends as Spider-Person would be so hard. You’d think you’d have a lot in common with everyone around you, but really, you’re all alone. Sometimes you think the spiders actually resent you deep down because you’re the only one that has never lost anything. Or had anything to lose in the first place.

For now, you’re just moving through a sea of spiders, trying to catch a glimpse of what you’re supposed to be doing here. Trying to figure out why you were chosen over the infinite other versions of you in the multiverse.

—

So far you’ve been on 2 and a half missions. The half was when you were forcibly sent home and effectively grounded for a week. Apparently, talking to civilians while standing guard is prohibited, even when they’re selling dip’n’dots. What? It was a long ass mission. And it was hot!

This one is your official third mission. It’s quite simple, in theory. Just travel to Earth-275A, infiltrate a tech lab, pick up some – worryingly volatile – equipment, and go home. Easy.

Except, it didn’t exactly go that way.

It’s just you, Miguel, Gwen, and Jess on this mission. You and Jess were placed on lookout duty (you on the roof and Jess on the ground with her bike), while Miguel and Gwen broke in and out of the building. It was all running smoothly, each spider occasionally muttering quietly through the radio whenever their positionings changed. Otherwise, it was silent. And frankly, a bit boring.

You idly kicked around some pebbles that somehow found their way onto the roof of this tall ass building, sometimes smacking them against the half wall separating you from falling a thousand feet downwards. You were actually dying to get back to HQ because you briefly spotted Hobie talking to Parker and Mayday before you had to go. He’s been quite absent lately, and you want to show off some of the new moves you learned this week.

Then, there was suddenly action.

A huge explosion surges out the right side of the building that O’Hara and Stacy were infiltrating. That mission plan was not kidding when they described the ‘volatility’ of the shit inside of those supply crates. Deep creaking and smashing objects follow the blast. You watch as the tallest building in the city starts to tilt. Shit, the explosion must’ve taken out some of the support beams.

You hear Miguel yelling your name through your earpiece, as well as heavy breathing and crumbling concrete in the background.

“Y-yes? Copy–”

“You and Gwen collect the crate and get out of here. I already called for a portal. Jess and I will get surrounding civilians away from danger.”

“Understood, sir.” You don’t usually call him anything like ‘sir’, but the stakes are high and complete compliance is needed at this moment.

“Crate is located on the top floor, Stacy is already there waiting for my word.” You briefly shake yourself out, mentally preparing yourself to scale the larger building in front of you.

With a quick fwp, you attach your web to the nearly as tall building next to your target to give yourself some leverage. You jump without even giving yourself time to think about it, tugging slightly at the web, making sure to collect as much kinetic energy as possible. You release the web when you get to the highest point and spit out another web to get you to the top floor of the building. Luckily the blast took out the windows so you could easily enter the floor.

There, Gwen stands next to a crate with several scientists and guards nicely pasted onto the walls with perfectly placed webs on each limb and over their abdomens.

“Took you long enough.”

“It’s been 30 seconds!”

“Relax, I’m teasing.” She shoots out a couple of webs and connects them to the crate. “Here, help me out with this.” You follow her movements, pulling at your webs slightly to get a good evaluation of its weight. Surprisingly, it moves quite easily, almost three inches from your soft tug.

“Why’re we both doing this when it weighs 100 lbs. We have super strength.”

“I dunno, Miguel just gave us the orders. There’s probably a reason. It doesn’t really matter.” You frown realizing you could’ve been down there helping O’Hara save actual lives but instead, you were ordered to assist a teenager on a one-person job. “The portal is opening in a few seconds on the roof of the building behind us.” Gwen doesn’t seem phased. “We can just swing it with us.”

“Isn’t this shit going to blow up if we move it too harshly?”

“Not when it’s in this protective crate.” She steps closer to the broken window, mentally measuring and planning out the escape route. “That explosion earlier was from an open container.” You hum, still torn over leaving Gwen to do the delivery so you can help people get out of the way faster. “You ready then?” She’s been watching you. Clearly, your thoughts are painted on your face.

You nod briefly, “Let’s go.” Together you take each side of the crate and use your other arms to swing yourselves over to the portal that magically appears. This time, that odd purring sound of the portal is completely blocked out by the chaos going on around you. Somehow the building has still only tilted a little bit since the explosion.

As Gwen pushes the crate into the gateway, you look down at the streets, watching as Miguel and Jess work impeccably together as they save hundreds of civilians from falling debris and the inevitable demolition of the building.

Then you look back a Gwen, who’s ready to head home. Then you look down at them again.

Then your eye catches on a red sedan sheltering a terrified family that sits under the chaos.

Gwen catches your eye. “Don’t.”

“I have to.”

“Migu–”

“Would do the same.”

“--Will mur-der me.” You sigh, but quickly shoot a couple of webs downwards without looking. Gwen has her arms folded, sharing that unamused expression that Jess loves to sport. Her feet are now temporarily stuck to the floor. You’re sure she could get out of it in a second, but you can tell, she’s not going to stop you. “Don’t die.”

Right before jumping off the ledge, you send her a cheesy smirk, “Me? Never.”

----

Taglist: @deputy-videogamer @danaeaurelia @reuxxi

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara #spider-man

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hanrinz · 1 year

Text

CHRISTMAS WITH THEM . . . ! winter and lights, spending your christmas day with bnha boys :3

✦°．feat : izuku, bakugou, shouto, dabi & hawks

✦°．content : headcanon! fluff!! and a little bit of cussing, badly written izuku, shoto's part is very short(im sorry) lowercase intended! not proofread.

— 𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐊𝐔

a christmas day with his mother and you! inko was so happy to finally meet you, there was a lot of food, it was probably the tastiest meal you have ever had in your life. hoping to get the recipe, inko was very enthusiastic about giving it to you, whispering the secret ingredient into your ear.

seeing you getting along with his mother makes his heart swell. he was rather nervous before taking you to meet his mom. which was very ironic, you should be the one nervous. you reassured each other that it would be fine. he was glad it went well, now all he has to worry was his gift.

oh..

shit, now he's even more worried. he was relieved that he didn't lose it, but will you like his gift? he hopes so, he really had a hard time looking for the perfect gift for you, he feels like it was a very basic choice. but then, he was reminded of kirishima's advice (and maybe a little bit of bakugou's),

"she will like it midoriya-kun! the thought is what counts!", kirishima does know what to say.

"ha?? it's from you isn't it, what are you worrying about!?" bakugou says as he shouts it to his face, it may seem a little nonchalant, but it did help to ease his nerves.

and when the time came to open up the gifts, he hands were sweating, really nervous about his gift.

"izuku, you know i'll love anything you give me right?" he nods. yeah, he knows that. he just can't help himself.

handing you the gift he bought you, a bracelet with yours and his initials that was carved in it. his knees now bouncing up and down from the nervousness.

"omg, izu this is so cute!" hugging him and placing a peck on his cheeks — calm down yourselves please, inko is right there.

god, he's relieved you like his gift. he'll definitely bring you home again next christmas.

— 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎𝐔

a christmas with bakugou would be the most unexpected one. he would wake up very early and already be preparing breakfast, you often wonder how he could walk around the house without any slippers, with the cold settling in the marbled floor tiles of your house prickling your feet.

as you rose up from the bed dragging the blanket around you, making your way to the kitchen. an aroma hitting you, as you see his back turned to you, engulfing him in a warm hug with the blanket still in your grasp. followed by a low rough voice,

"shitty hair and the others are coming by later." he gruffed, while giving you a glance.

you hum, nuzzling to his back. "did they say what time?", you questioned. it was low but he understood.

"they'll be here in two hours," still working on the food that will be served later.

"okay, lemme wash my face i'll help you", you said as you unwrap your hands around him, giving him a peck on the cheeks.

a flash suddenly went off, caught off guard the both of you turned around as you see four people in your kitchen in an elves outfit. denki accidentally flashes another one, blinding you for a second.

"denki run!" kirishima shouts.

scrambling to escape a seething bakugou, "fucking delete that, dunce face!", his voice booming, on his way to chase after denki, but not before handing you the spatula and apron he was wearing. (the apron was yours, with hearts and bears design on it)

it was definitely a chaotic christmas.

— 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐎

ahhh ice skating with shoto on a local rink! he would also invite fuyumi and natsou to spend christmas with them. and together with his siblings, y'all went skating.

this was his first time doing this, he says. he had never done skating before, with the background of his childhood, his father finding no importance in participating in such activities. but even though he claims he hasn't skated before, his quirk does manage to help him skate.

holding his hands while he gets the hang of skating, while laughing as you saw natsou slip on ice with fuyumi beside him trying to get him up. and as he looks around, everything just kind of slows down, a smile creeping up to his face.

he has something to look forward to every year now.

and maybe when the time comes he could spend another christmas with you with his mom.

— 𝐃𝐀𝐁𝐈

you would be staying in for the whole day, in your little apartment, with his presence warming up the walls and your heart. it would be a very simple christmas, but he's here. alive and well with him beside you, that was the only thing you ever wished this christmas.

though you got him a little something, you were very nervous, not knowing if he would like it. snapping out of your thoughts as a small beautifully wrapped box was chucked into your hands, looking up to the cerulean eyes watching you,

"dabi, what's this?" you questioned, visibly confused.

"what else would it be?" raising one of his eyebrows.

"it's christmas, thought i'll get ya a lil something, ya know?" he sat beside you on the couch.

"open it, doll."

unwrapping the gift, revealing a black box, opening it, a maroon sling bag you have looked at the mall one time you went out with him in a disguise, immediately forgetting it back then because of its price.

"how did you-", shocked with his gift, your mouth hung open.

"saw you looking at it, so why not buy it?", his hands coming up to your chin, closing your mouth.

"but, it's very expensive!" you said, now you feel stupid with the gift you bought for him.

" s' not that expensive, shigaraki pretty much gave us some bonuses. you worry too much, doll. now, gimme the gift you have for me." he says as he opens his hand, expecting your gift.

as you hand him your small gift for him, he immediately opens it. a necklace, you got him a necklace. his name is carved in it, and yours is also carved behind it.

you were embarrassed, hiding your face into your hands. it was a very childish idea, you wanted him to have something that was a mark that he was taken.

dabi thinks it was cute, it was a very you gift. it was cute, immediately wearing it around his neck, kissing you on the lips as a thank you, hehe.

— 𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐊𝐒

this guy would hang all the mistletoe all around the house, just so he could kiss you everywhere. oh you're in the kitchen cooking something? he'll kiss you, probably burnt the food because of him.

please kiss him, he's so clingy, he never has someone to spend christmas with. this was the first time spending christmas together ever since you got together.

he would definitely buy you a lot of gifts and as much as you appreciate them, you always remind him to not spend so much money on you.

he would always act so offended — he's dramatic like that — like not buying you a gift?? nope. it was official that he would spoil you, since when he asked you to be his partner.

and plus he's not always around all the time, he makes it his mission to compensate for the time he missed while being a hero. it's not very often he gets to take a break and he makes sure no one would interrupt your alone time together.

◞♡ merry christmas everyone <33 likes & reblogs are highly appreciated!

#deku x reader #bakugou x reader #todoroki x reader #dabi x reader #hawks x reader #mha fluff #mha imagine #bnha imagine #bnha fluff #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha headcanons #bnha headcannons #roses ‘r rosie

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whispering-ways · 6 months

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• ⪩⪨ ♥︎ love struck ♥︎ ⪩⪨ •

♥︎ summary: you've just come back from a horrible date and your roommate, Midoriya, helps comfort you

♥︎ pairing: izuku midoriya x reader

♥︎ tags: no warnings, just fluff :)

♥︎ notes: hi everyone, hope everyone is having a good day and I hope y'all like this fic! love y'all and thanks for supporting my fics <;3

You close the door to your apartment with a sigh and head to the kitchen. “Yet another piss poor date,” you think to yourself, fatigue settling in your bones. At this point, it was just too tiring. You’d downloaded every single dating app you could think of; you tried your luck on Tinder, Hinge, Bumble, and everything else under the moon. But regardless of how wide a net you cast, you always seemed to pull in the worst fish. It’s not that you hadn’t found anyone attractive or no one had liked you, but every single time you went on a date, it just managed to go sour.

The first date you’d been on seemed really nice at first, but with the way the guy kept on mentioning that women should be good housewives rather than ‘trying to shoot for the stars’, you knew that pursuing him would go nowhere. The second guy was no better. You’d agreed to go back to his place, just to realize it wasn’t even a place at all; it was his parents’ basement. The third guy? Gross, absolutely gross and that’s all you were going to say. And that led you to today. Today’s date seemed like a shoo-in.

The guy you were talking to was nice, smart, and sweet and it really looked like he was into you. So when he asked you out on a date to a nearby French restaurant, you were genuinely excited. At the least, it gave you a chance to dress up. But after nearly an hour of waiting, you realized that you’d been stood up. You were so upset thinking about the whole situation that you didn’t even notice your roommate on the couch when you took off your heels.

“Hey, I didn’t think you’d be home by now. Thought your date would take a little longer than an hour,” Midoriya said, moving to the side and patting the seat next to him, motioning you to sit next to him. Although you didn’t want anyone to see you upset like this, you were so glad to see Midoriya right now. You’d agreed to move in with him about a couple of months ago since you two were already best friends for years. And what you needed the most right now was your best friend and a good and proper vent.

“Yeah I’m fine, just that all my dates keep going terribly and I’m practically un-fucking-loveable or something,” you reply, throwing your purse on the couch and slumping down.

“Ok, no need for sarcasm. What we’re gonna do is you’re gonna sit here and we’re gonna talk it out okay?” Midoriya replies. He gets up to go to the kitchen to get a glass of water before handing it to you. “Now tell me exactly what happened.”

You take a sip and lean back on the couch, placing the glass to the side. “Well, I went to the restaurant and like I thought it’d be like a nice date, like at least a good time you know? But apparently, I’m a fucking moron or something because I sat there for like 45 minutes waiting for him until the staff had to kick me out because of the long wait times.” Just talking about it made tears well up in your eyes.

“What the hell; did he at least send you a text or anything?” Midoriya asked.

"Oh.. that’s the best fucking part is, I walked out of that restaurant and checked Hinge. I had sent so many messages asking where he was, and guess what? He fucking unmatched me!" you share in disbelief, wiping away the tears with your sleeve. You then grab a pizza roll, attempting to find some comfort in food. "I don't know why this always happens.. I just feel like I'm always going to have terrible luck, it's like I'm cursed. Maybe I'm just delusional and need to accept the fact that I'm unlovable..." you speak sadly, staring blankly.

Midoriya placed his hand on your shoulders, abruptly turning you to face him. Surprised by his sudden movement, you paused in your conversation. "Don't say that about yourself, okay? You are loved by so many people, and you're absolutely loveable. All the guys you've just talked to are just douches, and you deserve so much better than them.” You nod your head and wipe your tears, doing your best to pick yourself up.

He lets out a sympathetic sigh. “How about I make you some of that spicy ramen you like and we watch a movie together? You relax and I’ll take care of it all,” he suggested.

You chuckle at the sweet gesture. “Yeah...yeah that sounds really nice actually.” A part of your heart felt a pang of hurt at his actions; although it was a sweet friendly gesture, that’s all it’d end up being. Just a friendly gesture. But you did your best to erase that thought from your head.

Midoriya gets up from the couch to start cooking the ramen and you head to your room to change out of your dress into some more comfortable pajamas. You tie your hair up before heading to the kitchen and sitting on the countertop to watch Midoriya cook. After a moment or two, you pipe up and ask whether he needs any help.

“No, I’m all good; just sit there and look pretty. Besides, it’s just ramen, there’s not much to do with it.”

You blush at the reply, but shrug it off and reply “Well at least I offered.”

As Midoriya cooks the ramen, you both slip into talking about your lives. Midoriya talked about what an ass his boss was being, which was a great way to distract you from your own problems. The light gossip lifts your heart, and you feel refreshed and ready to tackle the world. Once the ramen is prepared, he scoops two bowls and walks towards the couch, where you follow behind him. You sit down and he walks over to your bedroom. With curiosity, you wondered what he was doing there, but shortly after, he returned with your favorite blanket in hand.

It warmed your heart how much effort Midoriya put into cheering you up. He momentarily takes away your bowl of ramen, only to spread the blanket across you and return the bowl back to you. You take a bite and immediately melt into the couch; it is just what you need. Midoriya joins you on the couch and hands you the remote to pick out a movie. After flipping through a couple of options, you finally settle on a rom-com that you’d been wanting to see for a while.

It didn’t long for you both to finish your ramen and from there on out, all you both were focused on was the movie. Or at least, it seemed like that’s what Midoriya was focused on. All you could think about was how close you both were. You didn’t know what compelled you to offer whether he wanted to share your blanket with you, but you were definitely glad that you both were sitting closer together. Your fingertips were barely brushing with his and you could smell the cologne on him. “Pine and just a hint of smoke,” you thought, but you knew thoughts like that were only going to hurt you. After all, you guys were just best friends.

You try your best to remain focused on the movie, which seems to work fairly well. Not too much longer passes until you and Midoriya begin making comments about the film, which had always been your favorite part of watching movies with him; he always had something out-of-pocket to say about what you two were watching. The climax of the movie had the hero show up at his crush’s door with a bouquet, ready to ask her out. "See that right there? That's what I want. Some flowers and all that stuff on a date? What wouldn't I give to experience a date like that,” you exclaim with a dreamy expression on your face.

You hear Midoryia laugh, and you turn towards him, confused. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s just funny you say that like you haven’t ever gotten flowers ever,” he replies, focusing back on the movie.

“That’s because I haven’t,” you mumble quietly, but not quiet enough to slip Midoriya’s earshot.

He whipped his head around to look at you. “That is genuinely insane, if I could take you out I'd have gotten you flowers for sure, what a damn shame honestly.” You look at him stunned, wondering whether if what he said had registered in his own mind.” Well, you know I mean a girl like you, not you...not that there’s anything bad with you..ugh I’m just fucking it up,” he stammers, his hands flying to cover the rosy blush that now covered his entire face.

You turn away from him and an awkward silence passes between you both. But there was no way you could just leave it off at that. “So you want to take me out then?”

“No..well I mean yes, I’d be privileged too but...” he trails off before sighing, leaning back into the couch. His hands still cover his face as he says, “I just...in all honesty, I don’t want to take advantage of you being upset right now and I know that you don’t have feelings for me so a date would just complicate things, you know?”

Saying that you were thrown for a loop was an absolute understatement. It took you a moment or two to process what he just said before replying, “It’s not like I haven’t thought about it you know. And it’s not like I don’t have feelings for you.”

Midoriya shot up at break-neck speed. “”What?? What do you mean by that??”

“No it’s whatever really, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you say, fiddling around with the corner of the blanket.

You feel Midoriya's hands gently move over to cover yours, pulling you back to look towards him. His eyes searched for an answer within your own and when you continued to stay silent, he said ”Literally if you don't tell me I'm going to spend all night trying to figure it out and you know I won't with how oblivious I am."

You look down at your interlaced hands and reply, “Well, you know, you’re my best friend and I genuinely enjoy spending time with you. Like I don’t think many people make me genuinely as happy as you do and I have feelings for you. I’ve thought about like being with you, but I like friends with you and I don’t want to weird you out and push you away.”

Midoriya lets go of your hands and for a moment, you think that this was the end, he was going to move out and never talk to you again. But before you can even register it, he pulls you into his arms and hugs you tight. He pulls you back and shifts his hands from the small of your back to your face, cupping it. His face has a huge grin plastered all over it. “Weird me out? I didn’t want to weird you out! I love spending time with you and I’ve wanted to go out with you for a long time. You don’t realize what a dream come true this is.”

At first, hearing that shocks yu, but then you start to laugh at how silly the situation is. You hug him back, happy to be on the same page. After you both let go, you smile and a moment passes between you two. It's a bit awkward but you know what you both are so happy that it’s okay. “Is it okay if I kiss you now.”

You’d never seen a man nod quicker in your life. “Yeah, yeah, that would be nice,” he replied, trying to play off his nod. Your hand slips to his cheek and you lean in to kiss him. You feel his smile against your lips, making you absolutely giddy. You pull away from him, your face flushed red. You looked up at Midoriya, whose green eyes shone with admiration. He just looked too cute; you couldn’t help but lean back into pepper kisses all over his face.

With passion, Midoriya's need to hold you became too overwhelming. He gently eased you into his lap, lifting up both legs so they straddled his. Taking you by surprise, he kissed you repeatedly, as if to convince himself that this was no dream. With every separation of his lips from yours, he seemed more and more content. Breathlessly, he asked, "Is it too early for me to ask you to be my girlfriend?"

“Absolutely not,” you say, snaking your arms around his neck. You pour every drop of affection and joy you had for Midoriya into the kiss. “This is like a dream come true,” you thought.

You two spent the rest of the night, cuddling with each other as you finished the movie. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m so glad that guy flaked on you,” Midoriya said, kissing you softly on the forehead.

You chuckle, leaning on his shoulder. “I couldn’t agree more.”

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kurogane2512 · 27 days

Note

Part II, continuation for HoV reader x HSR Himeko pls..

~🦊

Y'all I didn't expect such a huge demand for it😭😭 but thank you im glad it was well received and here is pt 2!

18+ CONTENT

Game: Honkai Star Rail

Characters: HSR Himeko x Herrscher!reader (HoV)

Type: Fluff and smut

Himeko may have made her declaration of love to you, but she gave you enough space and time of your own to settle down with everyone and get used to things as a Nameless. Though, everyone was quick to notice how things had changed between you two. How could they not when she would be all over you every morning, making you sit close by as she drank her coffee? You no longer avoided her; if anything, you were around her the most now, so much so that March even got jealous you weren't talking to her like before.

You had come to understand the ways of the Nameless more, what trailblazing meant and how the Astral Express operated. Chatting with Welt about old times was a nice change of pace too, even though he was reluctant to talk about Earth too much, he did share why he left and everything that happened in your absence as much as he knew. Dan Heng was mysterious to say the least, but he was most curious about your powers and liked to train together.

One day, the express made a stop at a space station. It was your first time seeing such a big space station which practically felt like a home for all the scientists living there. Himeko asked you to accompany her on the space station, she first visited some researcher named Asta and handed her an item then took you to a storage room filled with interesting artifacts.

"What is this place, Himeko?"

"Hehe, it's a storage room to say the least. But these are all prized possessions of Herta, they are called Curios."

You nodded and looked over the place in fascination until your eyes landed on a familiar item, a broken red sword....

"H-Himeko, is that....? What you showed me earlier?"

Himeko softly smiled and patted your head, "It is. I wanted to show it to you in person, I hope you don't mind."

"I'm just surprised...."

You smiled back and walked towards the item on display, it definitely looked like the real thing you had seen and even clashed your own blade with. A greatsword surging with a fiery passion to fight for all that's beautiful in the world, the person who wielded it upheld that motto till her last breath. Even then, she never tried to kill you with it. Even her last words spoken to you as the blade broke in fragments were full of love and care, wishing for you to be well.

Your memories of her flowed through your mind as you gazed at the broken sword, fiery particles floating around you as if the sword was alive and had her soul in it. That's when you heard a strange whisper in your ear, a familiar voice spoken all too calmly and gently that if you weren't paying attention, you'd easily miss it.

"Keep your heart steady and carry on, I'm proud of you."

Your eyes widened, it felt as if your love was right around you and whispering words of encouragement one last time. You felt a warm and comforting feeling wrap around you in an embrace, the fiery particles of the sword flying around you even more than before. You looked down and nodded with a smile, "Thank you." You whispered as a tear melted down your cheek.

You then stepped away and turned to face Himeko who was silently standing nearby the whole time and gazing at you. You wiped away the tears filling your eyes and lunged into Himeko's arms, tightly embracing her.

"Thank you for bringing me here." Himeko caressed your head and nodded with a smile, relieved that you felt some closure now.

You returned to the express soon after and departed for your next destination with everyone. Later that night, a knock was heard on your door and you opened it to reveal none other than Himeko wearing a nightgown and carrying a pillow with herself, looking at you with a smile.

"Do you mind if I sleep with you tonight, Y/n?~"

Her words made you blush, thinking of all sorts of scenarios.

"O-Oh, of course, come in!" you quickly made way for her and she walked inside then placed her pillow beside yours then laid down on the bed.

"Come here, sweetheart~" Himeko patted the place beside her, inviting you to lay down as well. You blushed even more by the nickname and the fact that you really were going to sleep beside her. You laid down as she asked and hesitantly looked away, too shy to look at her face. Her hands caressed your face in soothing motions, a gentle smile adorning her face and her tender golden eyes gazing at you lovingly.

"Are you feeling okay, darling?"

Himeko asked softly, shifting closer to you so that your face was buried in her neck.

"Yes, I'm fine. Better than fine, actually. It feels like a huge burden was lifted off, and I feel free again."

You looked up at her and pecked her life, catching her by surprise, "thank you so much...."

Himeko smiled back and cupped your face, brushing her thumb across your lower lip. You gazed at her own lips, both of you feeling a magnetic attraction towards each other and before you knew it, your lips were connected once again but much more intense than before. Himeko passionately moved her lips, her tongue swiping them and slipping inside entangle with your own, soft moans escaping both of you.

Her voice was divine to hear, your lips chased hers to draw out more of her angelic moans. She felt overwhelmed, something she didn't expect from you. Maybe your Herrscher powers were doing something, or maybe you were just needy by nature and she only experienced that now. She realized you must have held yourself back for a long time, afraid to hurt people so you isolated yourself.

She did not know how far you went with the Himeko in your world, just how deep your relationship was in terms of physical intamcy. But she had a small hope to be your first, though she wouldn't mind at all if she wasn't. She suddenly felt you hold her shoulders and apply force as if you wanted to push her down, you continued kissing her and raised your body while coming closer to her and she knew you really were going to come on top.

Oh, how could she have that? A girl younger than her dominating her this way?

"Wait, Y/n! Just a minute—!" Himeko whimpered out and you immediately stopped then moved away from her in worry.

"Ah, I'm so sorry! I don't know what came over me, I'm really sorry!" you apologized as if you had made a grave mistake, reminding her of the way you were in the beginning when you arrived.

Himeko sat up and cupped your face, moving it to the front to look at her.

"No, don't say sorry. You didn't do anything wrong, I was just surprised by how intense you became all of a sudden. I thought I'd have to take things slow but it seems you are eager to go all out, hehe~" Himeko teased with a chuckle, blush forming on your face at her words.

"No, I am at fault... I took things out of order and didn't confirm your feelings first."

"Is that so? I thought the kiss earlier conveyed all my feelings~"

You chuckled, "But I want you to know.... I love you, Himeko. I'm so grateful that I met you and I cannot thank you enough for all the help you gave me. Will you... um... be my girlfriend?"

Himeko's eyes widened and a blush formed on her face too, "I love you too, Y/n. And I'd be very happy to date you~"

You smiled brightly then Himeko placed her hands on your shoulders, making you confused for a moment until you were pushed down and Himeko straddled you. A teasing smirk on her face as she stared down at you, you anticipated what she would do and couldn't deny feeling aroused. Himeko first slipped down her own gown, giving you an eye-candy display as you watched her naked body slowly come into light.

She was perfect in every way, beautiful well-endowed breasts with perky pink nipples, luscious fiery red hair cascading over her shoulders. Her hands roamed over your body now, pulling you to sit up as she first took off your shirt. Though, she did not expect what she saw next. Your body was riddled with numerous markings going down your arms and around your belly, they seemed to be some kind of energy markings with the way they were engraved in your skin.

"What are these, Y/n....?" Himeko asked in concern.

"A-Ah, it's.... Honkai energy, back when I lost control and had an overload of Honkai reaction.... I thought they would disappear once I gain control but seems I was wrong, haha." you tried to laugh it off.

"....Does it still pain?"

"N-No, it's fine. You can touch if you want to...."

Himeko smiled then leaned near your neck and licked up your skin, placing small kisses all over then biting your collarbone. You shuddered with a small gasp, her tongue licked down to your belly and she caressed the markings for a moment then kissed all over them as well. You blushed profusely, feeling loved at such an endearing action of hers.

She removed your shorts and underwear next, continuing to kiss down your abdomen. Her hands brushed your folds, feeling how wet you were becoming at just simple kisses. Her thumb slowly circled your clit, your body shivering in response as you muffled your moans and arched up.

"Now, just relax, darling. I'll take care of you~" Himeko kissed your cheek as she started rubbing her finger across your vulva, your hands gripped the bedsheet below as you threw your head back feeling her slowly insert one finger inside you.

She engulfed your entire body and senses, every feeling and thought. Her smooth long fingers parted your walls as she plunged them deep inside, immediately touching a sensitive spot making you arch up with a loud moan. Himeko smirked at the reaction and further kissed your neck and cheek, gradually increasing the pace and thrusting her fingers in and out.

"Aah~ H-Himeko.... feels good....mhm!~"

"That's right, moan for me how you feel. Tell me everything about your body, my darling~"

Your hands wrapped around her neck now as you held her closely and moaned out, her fingers intently thrusting and scissoring inside you drawing out your sweet juices and whimpers. Her lips were busy marking your neck and kissing your face, eventually licking up your ears and biting down the lobe.

"Aaah! I'm close... Himeko.... please....ngh!~"

"Cum for me, my love. Shout my name and release everything~" Himeko's sultry voice whispering in your ear immediately made you tighten around her fingers and release, your body arching up the most and a sweet moan resounding in the room. Himeko relished every sound and movement you made, taking out her drenched fingers and licking your essence.

"Mhm, how sweet. I knew my girl tasted just as sweet as she is~"

Her praises always did something to you, making you flustered and aroused at the same time.

"Hah... Himeko... let me do you too..." you requested as you laid panting, and Himeko was more than ready to comply.

"My, how considerate. I was thinking to please you more first, but I won't deny I have become quite desperate myself after the sensual display you just put on~"

#honkai star rail #star rail #honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail himeko #hsr himeko #hsr x reader #hsr smut #himeko x reader #hsr himeko x reader

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