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jazzycurls · 2 years

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I want to know what love is -

pt.3

Summary: After years of being stuck in an abusive marriage you are hoping to start a new life with your son. Meeting an old acquaintance awakens feelings in you that you thought were long gone. Will your broken heart allow you to love again?

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Warnings/Tags: No use of y/n, angst, PTSD, domestic violence, injuries, jealousy, brief arguing/raised voices, curse words, hurt/comfort, fluff, smut, wet dream, (let me know if I missed something)

An: Hi you guys! This is my first time writing smut, so I'm sorry if it sucks lol. All feedback is welcome, be gentle please haha. Please do not steal or copy my work. Don’t repost without credit. This is my written work, everything besides the characters and plot points by the original writers, belongs to me.

Word Count: 6,669

You gasp as his fingers travel over your hips, grasping your thighs and pushing them apart. Kisses rain down on the insides of your thighs, getting closer and closer to your aching core. You arch your back and wine, trying to get closer to the source of pleasure.

"So wet," he murmurs, his lips pressing a sloppy kiss to your folds.

Moaning deeply you grab his curls, pulling him closer to you. You grind yourself on his lips, nose, tongue, anywhere you can get some friction.

He chuckles darkly "so impatient," he says, kissing your clit. He lets go of your legs and kisses his way back up your body before settling between your legs.

"Please," you beg, running your hands along his back.

"Please what?" he questions. You can feel him at your entrance teasing you, making a mess of you.

"Please, Eddie!"

You jolt awake covered in sweat. Turning over, you look at your clock and groan. It's only five o clock in the morning, one hour before your alarm is set to go off. You lie back and attempt to go back to sleep when the memory of your dream hits you full force.

You gasp and reach a hand between your thighs, you're soaked. Grazing your clit by mistake you moan unexpectedly. Thoughts of your curly-headed neighbor run rampant through your mind.

"Nope, nope, not going there," you say yanking the covers and throwing them off of you. You get out of bed and see a small wet stain covering your bedsheet. "Jesus Christ," you mutter. You pull off your sheets and toss them into the laundry basket in the corner of your room.

Sleep is out of the question, so you stomp your way to the bathroom, nearly waking your son up in the process. After taking a very cold shower, you set about getting your day started. "Today will be a good day," you tell yourself before waking your son up to get ready for school.

Today was definitely turning out to be a horrible one. You ended up being late taking your son to school, despite waking up earlier than usual. Your babysitter had also canceled last minute which made you late to work as well. Luckily Mrs. Brenda was available and more than willing to watch your son for you.

You had just gotten the job at the diner and couldn't afford to mess it up. After getting an earful from your boss, Benny, about the importance of attendance, you proceeded to fuck up everything you touched.

Memories of the dream you had last night plague your thoughts constantly, making you serve customers the wrong orders. You apologize repeatedly which helps you earn back some of the tips you were sure you had lost.

After a while, you were finally able to get into your groove, which was also helping to keep your mind from wandering. As you hung the orders in the chef's window for preparation, you heard the tinkling of the doorbell alerting you to new customers.

You immediately headed in their direction, taking your notepad from your apron. You're the only waitress on your shift today, which doesn't give you any time to waste.

From what you could hear this group seemed to be a wild and raucous bunch. You groaned internally, these were the type to change their orders constantly and tip low.

You walked over to the table with a smile "welcome to Benny's, may I take your order," you asked. As you looked at the table, your eyes met the source of your distraction. "Just great," you thought silently.

Eddie grins widely at you, giving you a quick wink before giving you his order. You quickly jot it down before taking the order of the woman sitting beside him. "She's cute," you think while listening to her order. Her light freckles dusted across her face, her hair was short and in brown waves.

As you take the last two orders, you notice that they seem to be a couple. The guy has great hair but the overuse of his hair spray makes you slightly dizzy. The girl beside him is also pretty with shoulder-length brown hair and high cheekbones.

"Alright, you guys I'll bring your order out shortly," you smile thinly. You walk over to the window to place their orders and grab the plates that are ready.

You become distracted once again as you serve the other customers, your eyes keep finding their way over to Eddie's table. You can't help but notice how close he is to her. Boisterous laughter comes from their table, catching your attention once again.

This time she's leaning onto his arm as she dissolves into a fit of giggles. Your chest tightens at the sight. "Is he on a double date," you wondered and why did the thought of that make you sad?

"Order up," the cook yells. "Order up," the cook yells louder this time. You finally hear the call and rush to get the order.

Balancing the trays of food and drinks, you walk over to Eddie's table and hand out everyone's orders, giving Eddie his last. Your hands graze each other as you pass it to him.

"Enjoy, and let me know if you need anything," you say with a plastic smile. Your eyes flicker over to Eddie, you find that he's already staring at you intently, watching as you walk away.

Another waitress comes in to start her shift, giving you the chance to take a lunch break. You decide to go outside to the side of the restaurant. There's a secluded area with a table and bench that the employees use.

You sit there eating your lunch, lost in your thoughts. What the hell was wrong with you? First, there was the dream, then you couldn't stop thinking about him and now here you were getting jealous over someone who was just supposed to be just a friend!

You sighed deeply, taking another bite of your food. Whatever this problem was, you needed to get your shit together. Eddie had become one of your closest friends and you didn't want to mess that up.

If you were honest, your feelings were hurt that Eddie didn't introduce you to his friends. Was he ashamed of you? Did he think you were not cool enough and wanted to keep your friendship a secret?

"Hey, whatcha doing?" Eddie whispers into your ear.

"Jesus Christ Eddie," you yell, holding your hand across your chest.

He laughs and takes a seat next to you, his thigh lightly touching yours. "Sorry," he smirked not looking sorry at all.

"So, what ya doing out here all alone," he questions, looking around.

"It's my lunch break and I came out here to be alone," you say pointedly.

Eddie doesn't catch on to your attitude or he chooses to ignore it. "I didn't know you worked here," "I would've come by more often had I known," he says bumping your shoulder with his.

You tense from his touch and lean away slightly "I just started," you said with a heavy sigh.

Eddie turns completely toward you, confusion etched across his handsome face "are you mad at me," he asks you softly.

You sigh again pinching the bridge of your nose. "No, I'm not mad at you," you reply honestly. Truthfully you couldn't find it in yourself to be mad at him. Really you were mad at yourself for being mad in the first place. You had no right to be.

"Well, what's wrong then," he pleads, taking your hands into his.

You desperately wanted to tell him. Tell him how you were jealous of the girl he was with and how you were sad at the thought he was ashamed to introduce you to his friends. Your pride and fear however were stronger than whatever it was you were feeling at this moment.

"I'm just having a really bad day," you say skirting around the truth. You turn to him giving him a sad smile.

He smiles at you but it doesn't reach his eyes this time. For some reason, he looks disappointed, like the response you'd given him was wrong and he knew it.

"No worries princess, we all have shit days," he replies. "Want to know what I do when I'm having a shit day?" he asks.

"I'm scared to ask," you mumble. After a moment your curiosity piques anyways. "What do you do," you whisper.

He gives you a toothy grin as he reaches into his jean pocket and pulls out a pre-rolled joint.

You gasp, scandalized, you knew that Eddie smoked, you weren't stupid. But you never thought that he would offer it to you.

You think for a moment, you have about four more hours of your shift left. Things can't get any worse than they already have, plus you've smoked before, occasionally. Even though that was years ago, it still counted in your book.

Eddie's still looking at you, patiently awaiting your answer. "I think I'll take you up on that offer," you state shyly.

He looks at you with a wide comical smile that takes up half of his face. He obviously was not expecting you to say yes. "Let's go to my van," he says as he glances around. "I would hate for someone to come out here and catch us."

You both walk over to his van and get in.

"Well, let's fire this bad boy up," he says as he brings the joint to his lips and lights the other end.

He takes a deep pull, closing his eyes as he inhales the smoke. A second later he releases it slowly and passes it over to you. "Brace yourself, sweetheart," he chokes out. "This is some grade A shit right here."

"I've smoked before Eddie," you retort as you take the joint. You wrap your lips around the end and inhale deeply. Immediately you begin choking, feeling like you were going to cough up your lung.

Eddie leans over and pats you on the back with a worried look on his face. "I'm okay," you breathe out shakily. You pass him the joint and lean back against the seat. Eventually, you get the hang of it and can inhale without killing yourself.

You laugh abruptly, catching Eddie's attention. "What," he questions, his full lips holding a smile of their own. He takes one last puff and puts it out in the ashtray.

"Just thinking about how bitchy I was to you— all because of some dream I had," you giggle shaking your head.

He immediately turns his body halfway towards you, you have his full attention. "So— what was the dream about," he asks, trying to be casual but failing miserably.

You open your red-rimmed eyes, gazing over at him "wouldn't you like to know," you reply cheekily. "If I told you, I would have to kill you!"

Your high right now that's for sure, why else would you mention the dream to him? But at least you're sober enough not to completely spill your guts.

"Anyways," you singsong. "I'm really sorry, Eds" you pout giving him your best puppy-eyed expression.

He groans, throwing his head back against the headrest "don't look at me like that," "I'm a sucker for the puppy-eyed look."

A moment passes and he turns back to you with a hopeful look in his eyes "okay, I'll forgive you— if you let me meet your son." He pauses before continuing "you talk about him all the time and I feel like I know him already," he says. "Plus, I'm good with kids, I kinda have a group of them that I watch over, so you don't have to worry about that," he rambles nervously.

A grin takes over your face before you can answer. You find it cute how nervous he is about asking you. You had already considered having them meet each other.

You felt like you and Eddie had been friends long enough to know that he was a good person. He was also someone who you were starting to care deeply about regardless of how much you tried to deny it.

"Yes, I would like that," you responded.

He leans over and gives you a quick hug before rambling about where would you like the place to be and what time. You both decide that a picnic at the park next weekend would be nice.

Looking at your watch you notice your lunch break was supposed to end five minutes ago. You tell Eddie goodbye before rushing back to your job. Lucky for you, the rush hour has slowed down so your presence wasn't missed.

The rest of your shift goes off without a hitch, all thanks to Eddie. How could someone be a problem and a solution at the same time?

It's the day of the picnic and you were a nervous wreck. You had told your son that he was meeting a new friend of yours today. He was apprehensive initially, for some reason he thought that this new friend was a boyfriend. It took some time before he was convinced otherwise.

The lunch you had prepared for yall to eat, was packed and ready to go. Now you were just killing time, by trying to find an outfit to wear. You were torn between a sundress and some cut-off shorts.

You didn't want to dress up too much, due to the surprise you had planned today. Eventually, you choose the shorts, it's casual enough for the park and will allow you to move comfortably.

Your shirt is white with the red words 'drink coca-cola. Pairing it with your white converse, you go about fixing your hair. You decide to wear it down in loose curls.

As you walk into the living room you call out to your son, letting him know it's time to go. He walks up to you and looks you up and down with a brow raised. "Are you sure he's not a boyfriend?" he questions.

"No, he is just a good friend of mine, okay?" "Now come help me carry the cooler to the truck superman," you laugh. You load everything into the bed of your pickup and head to the park to meet Eddie.

When you arrive at the park Eddie is already there, he looks so nervous you can't help but laugh. You park your truck beside Eddies. He walks over to you as you both get out of the truck.

The first thing you notice is how good he looks, more so than usual. You can tell he put a lot of thought into his appearance. His curls are not the usual frizzy mass and it looks as if he used a leave-in conditioner to help tame them. You want nothing more than to just run your hands through his hair

His clothes seem to be new as well. He has on a pair of ripped black jeans and a Judas Priest shirt, his signature black bandana is hanging from the back pocket of his jeans.

You introduce them and wait on bated breath. Eddie is the first to make a move "Hey man, it's nice to finally meet you," he says as he holds his hand out to your son.

"Nice to meet you, how long have you and my mom been friends?" he inquires with a raised brow.

"For about a couple of months now," Eddie responds. "It feels like I've known her forever though."

Your son hums in acknowledgment, keeping his eyes trained on Eddie as if he was evaluating him. The conversation falls into a lull.

Clasping your hands together you pick the conversation back up. "You know Eddie runs a club for Dungeons and Dragons," you say.

That catches his attention making his eyes light up "wow, that's so cool!" he exclaims. "I always wanted to play but none of my friends likes it," he says breathlessly.

Eddie grins, "well today is your lucky day man, I can talk to my group and see how they feel about taking on a new member," he says. "If that's what you want and if mom is cool with it," he adds glancing at you.

"Yeah, that would be awesome!" he replies quickly. "Can I do it mom please?" he begs, giving you the puppy dog eyes.

You look at the both of them, they're both staring at you with a hopeful look. "I suppose so, as long as it doesn't interfere with school." you state matter of factly.

Your son gives you a quick hug, saying thank you, and turns to Eddie who gives him a high five. You can't hide the smile on your face at the sight of them getting along.

"Okay, guys! Let's get this stuff out of the car, yeah?" you say as you walk to the back of your truck.

The picnic goes better than you could've imagined. Eddie and your son talk nonstop about various things, such as DnD, movies, games, and music. You sit quietly, for the most part, eating your food while watching them interact. You make comments here and there but let them continue to get to know each other.

After a while, you hear Eddie calling your name while waving his hand near your face. You look over at him and see his smiling face. "Hey, where did you go just now," he says jokingly.

You let out a small laugh "I was just listening to my two most favorite people," you reply looking at them both. Standing up you dust off your shorts.

"I'll be right back you guys," you call out as you head towards your truck. Looking over your shoulder you check to make sure their attention is elsewhere.

You pull out three water guns making sure they're full. You place two of them back into the bag and hold yours behind your back. As you walk back over to them still sitting on the blanket, you throw the bag at their feet.

They look at you with a puzzled expression "I have a surprise for you both," you sing mischievously. You pull out the water gun quickly and spray them both. "Catch me if you can!" you yell gleefully as you run towards the dense maze of trees.

After running a short distance you hide behind a tree to catch your breath. A twig snaps close by and you hold your breath. Peering your head around the trunk of the tree you spot your son looking around for you or Eddie.

You leap from your hiding spot blasting him in the chest before running off again. "Going to have to do better than that you son," you holler joyfully.

Crouching down behind a large bush, you pump your gun to make sure it's loaded.

"Well, well, well, looky what we have here," says Eddie.

You look up to find him a few feet ahead of you with his gun already trained on you. You move to raise your gun and he stops you with a clucking of his tongue.

"Ah ah princess, no sudden movements kay?" he says patronizingly. "How I see it, you're in a real tough spot darling, but I'm gonna be fair to you cuz I likes ya," he says with a faux cowboy accent.

"So, what do you want," you ask looking up at him beneath your lashes.

His breath catches a little and he clears his throat " you have two choices, the first one is I get to have an unlimited amount of hugs whenever I want for a week."

He stops and takes a dramatic pause before continuing "The second option is one kiss, any time or place no questions asked." he says smirking at you.

Your cheeks flame at the proposition and your mind goes blank, leaving you unable to form a reply. You can hear your son's increasing footsteps in the distance.

"Time's ticking sweetheart," he says mockingly still holding up his water gun.

You can hear your son approaching so you blurt out a response without thinking "the kiss," you say breathlessly.

"Great choice," he says slyly before taking off in the other direction whooping and hollering.

You're still sitting there when your son springs forward, catching you unaware. "Gotcha," he yells before spraying you full blast.

To say your son had a blast at the picnic last weekend would be an understatement. Once you had parted ways with Eddie, he proceeded to talk your ear off about him. He wanted to know when and if he could see him again.

He was ecstatic when he found out that he lived in the trailer right behind him. You had to make him promise that he would not go over there unannounced. Even though you were sure that Eddie wouldn't mind, you didn't want him to become a bother.

You were currently on your way to meet with your lawyer. He wanted to discuss your options for the case since your husband was not cooperating. He thought that since he had a record of violence, it could work in your favor with getting the proceedings pushed forward.

You were hopeful about what the outcome could be. If you could get the judge to agree with hearing your case sooner, then maybe you could finally be free from him. When you mentioned it to Eddie he was nothing but supportive.

He had asked you if you could go out with him and his friends afterward. He knew how stressed you were and wanted to help get your mind off of everything.

You were tempted to say no, you didn't want to risk getting jealous again. You weren't sure if the girl from the diner was just a friend or something more.

Making a fool out of yourself was something that was becoming a common occurrence, especially when Eddie was involved. But when you looked into his pleading brown eyes you couldn't find it in you to say no.

So you had plans to go to the hideout later tonight. Also, he told you that he had a special surprise for you but he wouldn't budge whenever you asked him for a hint.

You pulled into the parking lot and cut your car off. Gathering all of your documents, you said a silent prayer as you headed up the steps into the office.

You stood in front of your mirror as you smoothed down the front of your leather mini skirt. "This is stupid," you thought. After five wardrobe changes, you still couldn't decide what to wear.

"Fuck this, I'm not changing again," you muttered as you walked over to your closet. Pulling on your high-heeled ankle boots, you checked your makeup in the mirror for the hundredth time before heading to the front door.

Eddie had given you the directions and told you what time to be there. He explained that he would be a little late but that was due to the surprise he had planned. You were nervous about hanging out alone with his friends but he reassured you that they would take good care of you.

Your parents were watching your son for the weekend so you didn't have to worry about staying out too late. You got into your truck and gripped the wheel anxiously. You were nervous, excited, and scared all at once. It had been too long since you had gone out and partied.

After taking a deep inhale and exhale you cut on your truck and headed towards the hideout.

You stood at the entrance of the club awkwardly. Feeling like a fish out of water, you were hyper-aware of the looks that you kept receiving, from men and women. You weren't sure if the looks were a good or a bad thing.

Just when you decided that you were going to go back home, you felt a warm hand on your shoulder. You turned around and found yourself face to face with the woman from the diner a few weeks ago.

"Hi, I'm Nancy!" she said with a cheery slur, extending her hand towards you. It seemed she had gotten a headstart on drinking.

You gave her a small smile " Hey, I'm—,”

"I know who you are," she replied with a coy smile. "Eddie talks about you all the time," she said nonchalantly.

Your eyebrows shot to your hairline. Not only has he already mentioned you to his friends, but he talks about you all the time? It seemed your previous concerns were unwarranted.

Before you could get her to clarify, she linked her slim arm through yours pulling you close. "C'mon, let's go meet the others, they're dying to meet you" she declared before steering you into the small building.

It was dimly lit, the inside was bigger than how it had seemed outside. Nancy led you to the bar to get a few drinks before meeting with everyone. Not knowing what to get, you ordered a rum and coke, which was always a safe choice.

You both headed towards a smattering of tables that surrounded a medium-sized stage. There was a decent-sized crowd scattered about.

You could hear laughter as you approached a group, you recognized them all besides one. There was a new addition this time, a cute girl with red hair.

"Guys, this is the gorgeous girl Eddie told us all about," Nancy said loudly, catching everyone's attention.

"Hi," you said waving shyly.

The girl who had sat close to Eddie at the diner was the first to speak. "Hey girl, nice to properly meet you, I'm Robin!" her eyes sparkled with merriment.

"Nice to meet you too," you replied politely.

"I'm Steve, nice to meet you," the one with the nice hair said.

"And I'm Vicki," the last girl said with a smile.

You gave everyone another smile and wave before you took a seat.

Nancy took a seat on the other side beside Steve. He put an arm around her pulling her close and giving her a quick kiss.

You made small talk with everyone, eventually loosening up. They were actually pretty nice, you could see yourself hanging out again in the future.

You took a sip of your drink, letting the liquid warm your insides. "Do you know

when Eddie's gonna get here," you asked after some time had passed.

Steve looked at you with a mischievous grin "he's already here," he stated mysteriously.

You turned to him in surprise "oh?" "Where is he," you questioned. His eyes flickered toward the stage making you follow his gaze.

There you saw Eddie setting up band equipment on the stage. How he had managed to get onto the stage without you noticing was a mystery.

His eyes caught yours and winked at you, causing you to flush with a wide grin. You knew you looked like a love-struck puppy but you couldn't find it in yourself to care.

Eddie tapped his mic "Everyone doing alright tonight?" he asked still fiddling with his guitar. The crowd, except your group, gave a half-hearted reply.

"Alright ladies and gents, for the people who aren't familiar with us we're Corroded Coffin." He turned towards his band giving them a signal to start.

They were pretty good but your eyes were glued on Eddie. He was completely in his element, becoming immersed in the music. You watched as fingers glided skillfully along his guitar with ease, tossing his head back and forth to the pounding of the beat.

Nodding your head along, you swayed along to the song. Eddie turned his head toward you, catching you off guard when he started to sing! You were blown away as he strolled the stage towards you, belting out a harmonious tune into the mic.

Sweat began to bead along your hairline as he leaned towards you provocatively. "How many talents does this man have," you thought. He's a helluva guitar player and a decent singer.

You gripped the sides of your seat as he let go of the mic to perform his guitar solo still looking toward you. You were painfully aware of the dull ache between your thighs, causing you to fidget in your seat.

Eddie turned away from you with a smirk and proceeded to walk the rest of the stage for the rest of the performance. Everyone chit-chatted around you as Eddie and his band played through two other songs.

Steve had been so kind as to get refills for everyone, so you were now on your third round. You weren't drunk but you weren't exactly sober either.

It was hard for you to conversate with the others due to your sight constantly being on Eddie. After performing their last song they thanked the crowd and began to break down the equipment.

Your group whooped and cheered loud enough for the entire crowd. You turned back to everyone making small talk as you waited for Eddie to come over.

"I see you were very interested in Eddie's performance," Robin said with a smirk.

You finished sipping your drink before replying. "He was great," you replied honestly. "I didn't even know he was in a band!" laughing as you looked over in her direction. You noticed that she and Vickie were close, closer than what normal friends would be.

She chuckled giving you a knowing smile before leaning towards Vickie and whispering in her ear causing her to blush. "Not friends," you thought with a small smile on your lips. You shook your head and laughed softly, you could be clueless sometimes.

"Hey guys, how did you like the show," Eddie asked everyone as he flopped into a seat beside you.

Everyone complimented him and he turned and looked over towards you. "How about you sweetheart?"

You looked at him, taking in the sheen of sweat covering his forehead. His curls were frizzy from sweating and hung in loose waves down his shoulders. You resisted the urge to run your hands through them.

"I loved it, you were like some sorta rockstar up there," you beamed.

He blushed prettily at your compliment "thank you," he said cheerfully.

Several drinks later the club had livened up and music was blaring overhead. Nancy and Steve were on the dance floor while the rest of you were making light conversation.

You set your glass on the table and rested your arm on your chair. A moment passed before you felt Eddie's hand rest atop of yours.

Your breath hitched as you peeked at him from the corner of your eye. Other than a smirk, his face held no indication of what he was doing. He remained impassive as he continued to chat.

With the liquid courage coursing through you, you felt at ease with how you were feeling. You turned your palm face up to properly grasp his hand in yours.

Gradually he began to rub small circles into the palm of your hand. After a while, you felt his fingertips ghost the expanse from your fingers up to your wrist and back down again. You closed your eyes at the way his touch caused warmth to flare between your legs.

He did this a few times before suddenly stopping, letting his hand rest on yours comfortably.

You turned to him, your lips were slightly parted allowing you to take in deeper breaths. His gaze was already turned toward you.

The look in his eyes thrilled and frightened you at the same time. His brown eyes were intense with a look you'd never seen him wear before. He looked as if he were dying of thirst and you were the last drink of water.

Suddenly the air seemed to vanish along with everyone else but Eddie. You licked your lips causing his gaze to drop down to your mouth. He squeezed your hand tightly this time, which you returned equally.

At that moment Steve and Nancy sat back down breaking whatever spell you seemed to be under. You chose that opportunity to excuse yourself from the table and go to the restroom.

Once in the bathroom, you relieved yourself and washed your hands while looking in the mirror. Your face was flushed and had a light sheen of sweat. You wanted to blame it on the alcohol but you knew better.

Eddie had you hot and bothered in a way you hadn't felt in a long time. Even when your husband was home, he rarely touched you due to his overdrinking.

You opened the door to the bathroom to find Eddie standing there silently in the dark hallway. In any other circumstances, he would have scared the hell out of you.

"Hey, I just— wanted to make sure you were okay," he stated in a deep voice.

"Yeah, I just needed a moment," you replied. You stepped closer to him as a man walked out of the other bathroom and behind you down the narrow hallway.

As you stepped closer Eddie you found yourself directly in front of him. Your stare followed the way his band tee clung to his chest, outlining his pecs and traveling to the narrowing of his waist...

Eddie groaned and shifted, bringing your gaze up to his eyes. You gasped softly at the look in his eyes.

You weren't sure who stepped forward first but suddenly you were pressed against the hard expanse of his body. His head hung low as you tilted your head back.

He wrapped his arms around your waist cautiously and you glided your hands from his chest, slipping them behind his neck. His lips hovered over yours teasingly, tempting you to move forward.

"I'm going to kiss you if you don't stop me," he whispered, rubbing his nose against yours.

You gazed into his dark eyes before letting your eyes drift shut " I don't want you to stop," you said softly.

He quickly tilted your head back further, pressing your lips to his. Lips melded together sensuously, making you whimper softly into the kiss.

Your fingers combed through the soft curls atop of his head as he pulled you tighter against him. People walked by but you two could care less. The moment you were sharing was the only thing that mattered.

His tongue swiped across your lips searching for access. Parting your lips, you felt him slide his tongue across yours skillfully. You could feel your breasts sliding across his chest as you moved against him, making your nipples harden.

Your core began to throb with a dull ache and you moaned deeply into his mouth.

At the sound of your noises, he groaned in return letting one hand travel down to cup your ass. His other hand playing with the hem of your skirt teasingly.

You arched into him more, begging silently for something, anything to quell the storm brewing within you. He slipped his hand beneath your skirt and slid one finger from your clothed entrance up to your clit.

"Fuck, your so wet," he murmured against your lips.

Your breathing became ragged as you attempted to stifle a moan. You were still aware that you were in a public area.

He swiftly turned you both around so his body covered yours, giving a small sense of privacy.

You could still feel his fingers teasing your entrance, gently prodding, causing the fabric of your panties to dip into you slightly. Closing your eyes, you parted your lips letting your breath out in uneven pants.

"Look at me princess," he said, his voice hoarse.

You slowly opened your eyes, meeting his intense stare. He swiftly pulled your underwear out of the way, gathering the wetness pooled at your entrance, before pressing down on your clit.

He covered your mouth with his as you cried out in response, weaving his tongue with yours. Tightening your hold on his hair, you pulled his head closer, deepening the kiss.

His finger began to circle your bud faster and faster until you were gasping for air against his lips. You could feel him panting as well, the faint smell of beer, cigarettes, and mint fanning across your face.

Suddenly, he thrusted two fingers into your heat, making you throw your head back, bumping your head on the wall. You bit your lip to keep quiet. He began to pepper kisses along your jaw working his way down to the side of your neck.

You pulled his head away to look into his eyes "please," you whimpered. The need to cum had become overwhelming, leaving you clenching around his still fingers.

"Fuck," he bit out before shoving his fingers back in and out at full force.

Your head hit the wall again with a thump as your orgasm began to build steadily.

He grabbed your chin to keep your gaze on him as he took you higher and higher. Keeping motion with his fingers he started to rub your clit with the pad of his thumb.

"Eddie, I'm gonna—," you moaned unable to finish your sentence.

"Look at me baby, I want to see you cum for me," he said keeping his gaze locked on yours.

You came with an audible gasp, gushing around his hand. He continued stroking you lazily, as your walls fluttered around his nimble fingers.

Removing his fingers from your heat, he pressed against you, claiming your lips in a heated kiss. You felt his hardened length along your thigh.

At the feel of him, you felt your core clench, making you feel empty. You moaned softly into his mouth angling your body towards his member.

He pulled back and looked you in the eyes "you need to go now," he said pressing his forehead to yours.

"Hmmm," you said hazily. Your mind was still foggy from the orgasmic bliss.

"If you don't go, I'm gonna end up fucking you in this hallway," his voice was strained with longing.

"Our first time should be somewhere special," he said finally. He gave you one final sweet kiss before stepping back.

Even though he had just made you cum with only his fingers, he somehow still managed to make you flush from embarrassment.

You nodded your head, silently agreeing. He had a point, you were lucky if no one had witnessed what had just occurred. You smoothed down your skirt as you pushed yourself from the wall.

Now that the rush was fading, shame was starting to creep in along the edges of your mind. Keeping your head down, you moved to brush past him.

"Hey," he said softly, taking hold of your hand. "You, okay?" He rubbed the palm of your hand gently, looking deep into your eyes.

Your heart twisted from the expression on his face. His eyebrows were creased, genuine concern etched into his features.

"Yeah, just a little embarrassed, I guess," you replied honestly.

His response was instant "don't be, you have nothing to be ashamed of." he said smiling warmly.

You smiled in return, allowing him to loop your arm through his and lead the way out of the club.

As you reached your truck, he turned to you, your arm still tucked securely against his side. He took your other arm and pulled you into him.

"Are you okay to drive?" he murmured into your hair. "I can drive you home if you want," he said suggestively.

"That's okay," "I think you sobered me up a bit," you joked lightly.

He gave you another kiss leaving you breathless. You climbed into your truck, giving him a small wave before pulling off to head home.

Next Chapter

#eddie munson #eddie x reader #stranger things #stranger things smut #eddie angst #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #eddie my beloved #eddie smut #eddie stranger things #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x reader smut

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yzeltia · 7 months

Text

FFXIVwrite2023 20.Hamper

Characters: Krile Baldesion, G'raha Tia Expansion: Endwalker (No Spoilers) Rating: Teen Notes: I tried not to write about the lucky shorts. Moen Moen shook them out of me. I'm sorry friends.

Krile was taken aback upon entry to G'raha and Keith's apartment. Her dear friend had requested her assistance with some light housekeeping, near desperate in fact. With their daughter essentially arriving out of the aether, her assumption had been that the Miqo'te was struggling to keep up with the mess young ones tended to make. She was surprised to find this was not the source of his domestic woes.

No, G'khenna's things were nearly neatly arranged in a corner. Her desk was organized so all her school books were alphabetized, bookends with a photo of her and her family on one side with a captured moment of leave between her and Khloe on the other. At the side a small crystal magic rod, an umbrella, and a foil with a focus hung off it were latched into custom notches of the desk's top. From pencils to aetheric charts, all the little girl's things had a proper place and were put so.

No, what ailed the other Archon was not that of his young girl, but of his adult Hyur husband. On the floor in their bedroom, G'raha sat surrounded by the carelessly discarded things of his husband while Krile looked on from the door.

"Scholar save me. How can any one person be this messy? I did not realize how careless he is with his belongings," the Miqo'te groaned, pushing Keith's dumbbells under the end of their bed where he'd taken to storing his other athletic gear.

"Love has a way of blinding us to our partners' habits, Raha. Perhaps a little light scolding is due," Krile said, lightly bending to pick up a few discarded shirts, "Though, how have you let it get this bad?"

G'raha closed his eyes and tilted his head back, ears folding as he swallowed.

"We divided up our chores. His talents lay in the kitchen so I was relegated to the other odds and ends around the apartment. Laundry was among them I suppose."

"So this is more or less a mess of your own making?"

"I've been busy with adventuring and my studies. I know I said I'd pick up around the place but at the very least he could make use of the proper receptacles when he disrobes."

Krile let out a little laugh as the Miqo'te pouted and tossed a pair of Keith's boxer briefs into a basket. Together the friends continued to sort through the clothing on the floor then through a bag of Keith's adventuring gear.

"I would think you'd have a little more joy out of this, Raha. Your things mingled among an adventurer's and rightfully one yourself now. This is probably the more insight than most would ever get to what it's like for a hero behind closed doors."

"I suppose this is reminiscent of two thirds of the Warrior of Lights' dwellings. Krile, that is indeed a good way of looking at this. I have offered my companionship for adventuring and this is just some of the labor that goes into it. I can appreciate the stain on his leathers from him tumbling into grass or a scratch upon his leathers from close combat. The smell of his shirt soaked with the scent of his trrravels and himself," the Miqo'te started, purring as he nuzzled his face into the chest of an undershirt.

"Let's not get carried away now. Here, we have plenty of loads for the wash," Krile said, rolling her eyes ever so slightly as G'raha blushed and tossed the shirt away.

Gathering a basket, she hummed then caught a glimpse of golden fabric sticking out from under their bed.

"It seems we've missed one," the Scion called out, moving to whip a pair of bomball shorts out from the hiding place.

"Seven hells," the woman breathed out, quickly tossing the garment to the bed before covering her nose, "Those have seen far too much adventure for me to be handling.'

G'raha quickly dived to the bed, catching the discarded shorts, flushing deeply as he stuffed them back under his bed. He sat up, ears pinning back as he avoided Krile’s suspicious gaze.

“What on Ethyris has gotten into you,” Krile finally asked.

“Nothing. Just leave those be. They’re Keith’s lucky shorts.”

“They’re foul.”

“Imbued with good luck, or so he says. You know how superstitious athletic types arrrre. He is no exception. It is purrre psychology. He believes he performs betterrr, and so he manifests it. A simple trick of the mind, though it is all confirmation bias. I am certain in time that he will see the light, after some exposure to sound slowly administered logic, that his musky shorts have no bearrring on luck and are not as appealing as he has been led to believe.”

Krile covered her mouth, “Appealing? Raha, I do not want to be privy to such debauchery.”

“I assure you, there is no debauchery to be had! It is the general physique and perhemones that-”

“No, say no more! Please Raha. No explanation will be sufficient enough for you to continue. I can hardly say I shall forget that awful stench,” Krile laughed, picking up a basket before hurying from the room.

“Krile! Please! I did not articulate myself sufficiently! Krile!” the Miqo’te called out, face as red as his hair.

Whimpering, he slumped down to the floor, hands in his face before peaking at the shorts. He closed his eyes, bringing them up to hug for a moment, and in his own bit of superstition asked the Scholar to return his love home safely. Hearing Krile call again, he hopped up then picked up his baskets, face remaining red as he went to get on with his chores.

#krile baldesion #g'raha tia #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #final fantasy 14 #ff14 #ffxiv oc #ff xiv #ffxiv miqo'te #ffxivwrite2023 #ffxiv write 2023

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lxvestxned · 2 years

Text

Work Visit

marc spector x gn!reader (1.7 words) in which your friend of a friend, marc spector, makes an ass of himself in your place of work, and then promptly digs out when he’s realizes he did not think out his plan to ask you out well enough. warnings: swear words, boring work talk, fluff

a/n: okay now THIS is the most selfish thing i have ever shared evER. this is my literal work daydream from yesterday. just thinking thoughts about how my natural attempts at flirting is always full form bullying... and how hilariously marc would handle it. and perhaps, this is a college!au of sorts?? i subconsciously bring the boys down to my age for some reason.

Ah yes. Truly gratifying was the mindless work of a receptionist between rushes. The salon and spa’s laundry waited ever so patiently for this moment. The seemingly impossible lull between managing transactions, answering inquiries, and checking in guests, allowed for the growing number of baskets behind the reception’s desk to be tended to. And one of the receptionists had quite enough of pretending it never existed.

From your little check-in stand beside the checkout desk, you occupied the surface with pile after pile of freshly folded towels and bedsheets. Your eyes wonder between your muscle-memory-infused folding technique to the bodies that milled about the corridor outside your front doors. This small piece of the hotel was all you knew. Between six elevators, the guest-only pool, the cafe, and your own salon spa’s open glass doors— there was not much for you to amuse yourself with.

You found that the cafe made for mediocre entertainment every once in a while. It was easy to look ingrained in the folding of salon capes while also judging the conversations that floated in from the reception’s barred backsplash. Of course, the best of conversation was always that of a first date. It meant finding out the couple along with them, as there were no mystery names or inside jokes to speak of yet.

You were astounded by the amount of eavesdropped-dates you would consider a success— which was a whopping zero. The best of the worst had to go to the woman who strong-armed her date to admit that he wasn’t “enough of a man” in bed… or perhaps to the guy who asked a grand total of 1.5 questions before sitting in silence for his date to painstakingly fill the void until HE decided to call it quits. Every time you were made more and more grateful that you’d never dealt with a first date situation.

Or date situation ever… or date… is what a regular person would call it probably.

The elevator ding recalled your attention. It was the only way to get to that floor of the hotel, so classical conditioning told you that the familiar chime means “check in clients!” But when the swimwear-clad family came bustling past your doors, you knew to resume your mindless duties. You finally turned your back, returning the folded laundry into it’s basket on the floor.

“I’ll be right back,” you lifted the basket, nodding to your fellow receptionist at the register.

You were surprised to see her look right past you, customer service laced into her, “hello!”

You followed suit, smile beaming on your lips before you could even turn to the customer, “hi!” But you were suddenly met with a familiar face, shock driving the pitch of your voice back to its natural state, “w- hey!”

Marc Spector stood all too nonchalantly for someone bearing the cheekiest smirk on the face of the Earth. He didn’t even spare a proper greeting. Not that it was needed given your newfound jolt of genuine energy.

“Where did you come from?” You set the heavy basket onto the surface before you.

“The elevators.” He responded drily.

You frowned, “Yeah, okay,” immediately feigning disinterest.

Your coworker sputtered in bitten off laughter from her seat behind you— and you were particularly unamused with the familiarity of this situation. Almost like an eavesdropper was about to rate this moment as the best of the worst interactions at the front desk.

You were amazed to find Marc bowing his head to mirror her chuckles.

“You got an appointment or something?” You said.

He remained in his quiet. First looking beyond the reception desk, into the lobby of the salon spa, then leaning back some to peer into the cafe. The act was enough to supply you an answer.

You opened your mouth to say, do you actually know how you got here? But, he summoned a response sooner.

“No, can I make one?” His arms folded over his chest.

Your brows raised then. The cogs in your head worked over time to decide between your ingrained work script’s ‘of course, what would you like to get done?’— and the much more natural ‘are you being fucking forreal right now?’ He was always bringing the meanest of humor out of you somehow.

“You should!” You say instead, perhaps too deep into your work shift to even remember how you normally speak to him, “there’s literally a trillion things you could try here.”

Marc couldn’t hide the surprise from his face. He couldn’t even hold onto the cheeky cross of his arms as you led him to the checkout desk. Your coworker politely traded spots with you, although she did remain standing at attention to your interaction with who she likely inferred was not a proper customer. Though you couldn’t blame her, it’s not like you had many visitors when working at a place so fancy. You began to pull up the appointment book on the desktop’s screen.

“Oh, this is my friend Marc, by the way.” You told your coworker, to which she nodded.

“Ahh, I figur— oh?” Once again her eye line caught your attention, “what’s that look for?” She grinned at Marc.

Apparently, it was his turn for his brows to reach his hairline. He stared at you from where he leaned over the counter.

To which you shot him an incredulous look of your own, “what?”

“Nothing.” He was coy with his reply, distracting himself with a gloomy look down. Purposely leaving all too much to be assumed by your coworker.

His shock was, of course, due to you ‘deeming him worthy enough to be called a friend’— and absolutely not because you were some ‘Casanova toying with his heart and minimizing the depth of their relationship in public’. And yet, all the words needed to explain that to your coworker went unsaid as she was swiftly occupied with a real customer who entered at that moment. Too soon she was leaving the reception area with the customer in tow, and thus you were alone with the man basking in your embarrassment.

“Don’t be weird here,” You frowned even harder.

“You’re the one being nice to me,” he frowned back.

“Well I can’t just turn off my niceness for you, okay. I’ve been working for hours now.”

“Is it that hard being nice to towels?”

For a second, you both looked to the finished basket that still awaited you. “What, were you watching me?”

“What do you do here anyway?”

You rolled your eyes, not really feeling like explaining your work duties when he was very likely setting up another punchline. “What are you doing here anyway?”

Marc pressed his lips together, going so unhelpfully quiet for a beat too long again. “I’m here to book an appointment, come on.” He had the nerve to rush you.

“An appointment for what?” You pried, “Hair? Massage? Nails? Makeup?”

He let out a whopping sigh as his arms wound back into its fold, still resting them on the counter. “What can I book you for?”

You couldn’t believe you were actually suppressing a smile, could he honestly be there just to annoy you? “Nothing, I’m literally just a receptionist.” ‘you dumbass’ would’ve faithfully followed that sentence— if only you weren’t so well aware of the cafe guests within earshot.

“Okay so basically, you’re useless.”

Okay… so suddenly you were doing much more than smiling. In fact, you were laughing albeit seeping with malice.

Marc bent to retreat his stupid fucking mouth into the cradle of his arms, letting out the laughter he dared to share. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” his downturned smile made you want to tackle him over the counter.

Except it was at the very opportune time that you spotted a hairstylist approaching to check their client out. Your exterior slowly shifted to its trained appearance, “I can help you in a moment!” You nodded him to the side, and he dutifully stepped back.

Your work brain was easy enough to key into. Collecting the price and tip, scheduling their next appointment, emailing receipts— it was all like clockwork. Made only a bit difficult with the lingering stare from the monotone man standing just in front of the multicolored product shelf.

“Have a great day!” You waved the client goodbye while she bounded out the doors. Charging your trained-cheerful tone with a fighting spirit when Marc resumed to the counter, you smiled, “how about I book you for a brazilian wax. I can do that.”

“What’s that?” He crinkled his nose.

You pointed a downturned fist between you two, “I’m going to,” you violently ripped the imaginary strip in your demonstrative fist up, “wax your balls off.”

Marc reflexively shrunk back, eyes shutting closed as if in active pain at the thought alone. Upon mentally recovering, his nose wound up twice as hard, one of his eyes forced to follow suit, “guys don’t actually do that?”

You dropped your hand, “only the sexy ones.”

“Tch,” he shook his head.

And almost like you were in the middle of your busiest time of your work day, you were beckoned to attention again, this time by a phone call. You lifted the phone off the desk, and Marc did the same with his weight.

“Okay, I’ll go.” He started for the doors.

“O-Okay?” You wished there wasn’t so much surprise in your tone, really you should have been glad if anything, “bye.” You tried a new one, but you couldn’t help the newfound disappointment— and then the even newer-found disgust in that disappointment. He was gone from your sights with his gentle wave almost as immediately as he appeared. You took a longer moment to compartmentalize those feelings for a much Much Later time, before you answered the phone.

Not that your coworker would allow you much time to keep those thoughts at bay. Did she really need to comment on the way you glowed ‘til the end of the shift after his little pop in? Was it really necessary for her to do so just as she landed on the floor she parked on? Marc was the weirdo for showing up at your job for seemingly no reason. If anything, you were just shocked that he remembered some offhand comment you must have shared about your job. It’s not weird to be glad to see a friend of a friend after such monotony of your workplace. At least, that’s what you said to convince yourself that night in bed.

#marc spector x reader #marc spector headcanon #marc spector x y/n #marc spector fluff #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector fanfic #moonknight fanfiction

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syrupwit · 2 years

Note

Re: DADWC, no but seriously though, I'm invoking the wildcard space for Hawke & anyone (or everybody in the flock) + "Can I propose a more anime solution?" if you so wish! Modern AU Kirkwall if you fuck with those, but if not, wildly out of context is also works

You have carte blanche for sending me prompts in any case, Goose! And I don't know why this is Carver/Merrill, but it is. I made up so much stuff here. (The post referenced is here.)

Under the cut, please find ~1352 words of Modern AU Kirkwall, with Carver/Merrill, silly het tropes, and striped socks, for @dadrunkwriting.

Carryingly, but not over-loudly, Garrett Hawke cleared his throat. Heads turned; tongues stilled; Fenris pushed Anders’ admonishing finger from his personal space. An anticipatory quiet fell.

Moments prior, as Varric had been going over the statistics of the monster they were supposed to fight, Garrett had appeared listless and unengaged. The sudden attention of his friends, however, revived his famed charisma like water flowing into a sponge.

He leaned forward on his elbows and rested his chin on steepled fingers. The stupid but accurate glasses he’d bought online, a replica of those worn by Gherlen the Blood-Risen in the original Tales of the Blood-Risen, glinted in the basement’s buzzing light.

“My friends, party members, devoted followers. Your strategies sound great and all, but can I propose a more… anime solution?”

“Oh, here we go,” said Carver. He had come down to the basement for snacks, and found that the six-pack of fancy soda he’d bought for himself the day prior was missing from the fridge, having been distributed among the D&D players. Garrett had two cans in front of him. Pig.

“Shush, brother,” said Garrett. “Now, my suggestion is…”

“Garrett doesn’t even watch anime,” Carver seethed to Merrill later, having texted her and then met up to hang out in the only laundromat in Hightown. He was lying on a bench too narrow for his back while she paired up her socks. “He’s only seen Wait, My Girlfriend Is A Noble-Hunter?! and two episodes of the second remake of Tales of the Blood-Risen, not even the original. If there’s an anime fan in the family, it’s me. But he just has to take that from me, too!”

“Anime,” Merrill mused, folding together the top cuffs of two mismatched striped thigh-highs. The basket in front of her brimmed with more and more colorful socks, like an assortment of cotton candy or the hoard of a tiny, pastel-loving dragon. It was lucky there were only a couple other customers at the laundromat. “I don’t think I’ve seen any anime.”

“I’ll make you a list of recommendations,” said Carver, shifting his shoulders. “I have a broad knowledge of the genre. Garrett’s a dilettante.”

Merrill put her thigh-highs in the basket and set it aside. “Have you asked if they’d let you play D&D with them?”

“Yeah, I tried once, when they were doing a one-shot campaign with him and Varric co-DMing. He killed my character off in the first dungeon.”

“Oh.”

“He claimed it was supposed to be fixable and plot-relevant, but come on, Merrill. He lives to lord himself over me! I’m not giving him more chances on purpose.”

Merrill sighed and patted him on the knee.

The washing machine that she had been using beeped. She went across the laundromat to inspect it, and returned with an armful of damp lingerie bags, which she placed on the bench near Carver’s feet. With a twitch of her fingers, the bags began to emit a light steam.

“Um,” said Carver. He liked it a little too much when Merrill did magic so casually. Garrett was a mage too, but he was flamboyant about it; Bethany was ashamed of her magic and usually hid it. Anders, the only other mage Carver spent much time with, tended to over-explain whatever he did and also get defensive about it. But Merrill just did as she pleased, when she pleased.

Merrill bent, rummaged through another among her cluster of laundry baskets, and retrieved a complicated-looking hanger with about 50 clips on it. She looked around the room, chewing her lip, but apparently found nowhere to hang it.

“Could you hold this for me?” she asked. “I’ve just got to clip these.”

Carver sat up, careful not to knock her bags over, and took it from her. He looked around to make sure the other two customers weren’t watching them. “Why are you washing your underwear in public?”

“My sink’s not big enough,” said Merrill. “And my shower, I have to get naked or put on a swimsuit to wash clothes in it, and then the bathroom floor gets all wet.” She studied his face. “Oh dear, I’ve embarrassed you, haven’t I? You don’t have to help.”

“It’s fine,” said Carver, who could tell he had gone red.

“Thank you,” said Merrill, quick and sweet. Too sweet. Carver looked at her with suspicion, and she gave him a guileless smile. “Here, be careful with the garter belts in this bag—they’re delicate…”

Carver ended up helping Merrill with the rest of her laundry, including her towels and linens. It wasn’t like he had anything pressing that afternoon, and he didn’t feel like dealing with Garrett and his friends back at the house.

They got hungry, so she took him to a cafe and tried to pay for his tea and sandwich. Carver would have none of that.

“I make at least twice what you do. Plus, I’m the guy.”

He winced as soon as he said it and prepared to apologize. However, to his surprise, Merrill seemed flustered rather than offended. Some Dalish cultural difference, maybe? She ordered dessert for herself when he suggested it, and didn’t hesitate to choose the pricier cake that she preferred.

Merrill was coaxing him to try a bite of her cake when Garrett tromped into the cafe. He was followed by the other players, two or three more of his friends, and the dog, Calenhad, who as usual was shamelessly soliciting attention from Fenris.

“They don’t even let dogs in here,” Carver hissed, as Garrett commandeered two tables and directed the others to go in search of additional chairs. The dog sat in Fenris’s lap. “I got kicked out last week when I came in with him. But look! He gets away with everything!”

“I really think you should just tell him that you want to play with them again,” said Merrill. “Oh, Isabela’s here.”

She got up and ran to Isabela, who made a big deal of it. They had this whole hugging dance that involved Isabela lifting Merrill up multiple times. Isabela looked at Carver over Merrill’s shoulder and waggled her eyebrows, and he put up a hand in reluctant greeting.

Being around Isabela was awkward—she was blunt and fearless, she was devoted to Merrill, and she knew Carver had used to have a crush on her. He was always afraid that she would say something about his interest in Merrill, though she’d contented herself with sly looks and innuendo so far.

“Hey, Carver,” said Garrett from too close by, startling him. “Did we crash your date?”

Carver turned and fixed him with his most hateful glare. “You took my special soda.” He’d been saving it all week.

Garrett had the grace to look guilty. “I saved one for you! You left before I could give it to you.”

“Yeah, well, you owe me a replacement pack of soda.”

“Can I just get you some cake or something? They have good cake here.”

“We already ate,” Carver snapped. He glanced over at Merrill, who was absorbed in conversation with Isabela, and flushed.

Garrett’s eyes crinkled in that annoying way they did. “So it really was a date.”

“Shut up. I was just helping her with her laundry. We got hungry, that’s all.”

“Her laundry, huh?”

“Not one more word,” said Carver, bristling; but Merrill and Isabela were coming over now, and he knew it upset Merrill when he and Garrett yelled in front of her. She never said anything about it, but he could tell. So he was the one who shut up.

Garrett held out his arm, and Merrill went right under it. She fit perfectly. She looked so cute, and small, and comfortable where she was. Carver ground his teeth, conscious of Isabela’s eyes on him.

“Can I join your next campaign, Hawke?” said Merrill.

“You can join if Carver does,” said Garrett. He squeezed her.

“I’ll do it,” said Carver before Merrill could protest. “But on one condition. I want to wear those glasses.”

“Glasses?” said Garrett, then realized, and laughed. “I knew you thought they were cool!”

#sunrisetune #dadwc #dadwc fill

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spadefind9 · 2 years

Text

3 Catering Kinds

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autisticabbey · 2 months

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My customized Pallas and Diamond Moon St. Patrick's day and Charon mesh laundry bags, folding laundry baskets, and reusable movie cups Saturn bath towels set, and my DIY Saturn puzzle piece socks and Charon puzzle piece T shirt and designer sneakers.

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jjpmoans · 3 years

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proposal | jjh

→ characters : jeong jaehyun x reader

→ word counts : 1.0k+

→ summary : just domestic stuffs me being whipped for a song and it fits jaehyun.

You walk into your shared bedroom, drying your wet hair. Jaehyun will be home any time soon, his work finishes early these days so he would spend the extra time being home, spending it with the family. You watch the whole bedroom in a state of mess, the pillows on the floor, blanket roughly teared from the bedsheet and then there’s a small figure lying calmly on the bed, chest heaving up and down.

A small laugh escapes your mouth when you watch her face contorts as if she’s fighting someone in her sleep. Probably fighting you since Jaehyun has never fought her, he let her do anything to him, turning dumb for his angel. You leave the sight to clean the mess, folding your dirty clothes and placing them in your laundry basket.

Your eyes land on the specific corner of the room, a corner you placed everything you cherish, a corner you requested from Jaehyun when you first moved in. Placed on the top of the rack is your wedding picture, framed with a customized frame Jaehyun’s friends had gotten for your wedding present. Two scented candles accompanied the frame, one candle contains your favourite scent of Jaehyun and another contains Jaehyun’s favourite scent of yours.

You love this corner. It’s like a journey of yours, starting from your wedding, moving to your pregnancy pictures, your first born and a small family of yours.

“Be my life partner.” you were having dinner with him. A usual dinner, nothing special. It’s just you and Jaehyun at a local dining restaurant, him bringing you out for a date after months being busy with work.

“What are you talking about Jaehyun.” you laughed, simply dismissing his sudden proposal. You don’t doubt him, he did tell you that he wanted to get married at an early age. However you didn’t think he’s being serious, maybe he just wanted to test the idea of marriage on you. “Work has worn your brain out.”

“Would you be the mother of my children?” he asked again, this time reaching to take your hand into his, eyes boring straight into yours. You could tell when Jaehyun’s serious, he would take your hands into his and demand for your attention on the matter. And at that time, he was serious. You almost darted your eyes away from his because of the intense stare, it felt like he stared right through your soul, wanting- no, demanding for an answer. “Will you let me wake up and fall asleep to you?”

“Jaehyun. Stop joking around.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re- what?”

“I’m not playing around. I’m serious.” you never felt so nervous, the gaze he had on you made you feel weak and it struck you how serious the topic was. It was never a simple dinner for Jaehyun. He was prepared for it. He was prepared to ask you, to ask for your permission to be his life partner.

“You’re twenty four, Jaehyun. We are still too young.”

“I’m twenty four and I’m ready to marry you.”

You blink and smile, your mind has drifted to that particular night again. The night where Jaehyun asked for your permission to marry you, to make you his life partner. To become the mother of his children, his mini Jaehyuns.

“You’re staring again.” you jolt from your place, turning your head to the door where Jaehyun is standing in his work attire, smiling with dimples. “I’m home, sweetheart.”

He takes a stride towards you where you’re sitting on the edge of the bed. When he reaches you, Jaehyun cups your face and plants a small kiss on top of your head. “Was she being good to you?”

You scoff at the question, pushing him slightly as Jaehyun laughs in response, knowing the only answer to that question is no. “Your angel is very naughty today, she barely listens to me and I think she plans to make us move houses. You should be relieved that you came home to the house completely intact, I thought she was going to take the wall down.”

Jaehyun listens to your rant intently, swiping his thumb on your jaw to caress your face, eyes darting to every corner of your face. His dimples are still showing, eyes glinting in amusement as you tell him your day.

“I should have thought twice about being the mother of your children.”

“Oh?” Jaehyun made a face at the statement, smiling widely for someone who worked an 8-5 job. “I guess you really should, before being pregnant with my second child.”

He then crouches down on his knees, greeting the mini him inside you. “Hi, my baby. Did mommy eat enough today? Or does daddy need to bring her for ice cream again tonight?”

You slap his shoulder as you feel the side comment is for you. You asked him to bring you for an ice cream hunt at 2 am last night, causing Jeno, his brother who lives next door to babysit your daughter for you.

“Fine! I won’t ask for anything again!”

Your husband quickly pulls you into a hug before you can move away, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “It’s okay. I’ll bring you anywhere at any time. Because I love you.”

“You are carrying my child for me. I can’t thank you enough, this is all I could do.”

“Naww. Thank you. You’re the greatest husband, Jaehyun.”

“I am?”

“Mhm. The best I would ever ask for.”

“Does that mean I could ask for another baby?” you quickly detach yourself from him and give him a stink eye. In the meantime Jaehyun is laughing so hard that your daughter starts to stir in her sleep but luckily, too tired to wake up and fall asleep in no time.

“I’m kidding, sweetheart.” he flashes you his dimples and you narrow your eyes on him again, knowing too well his tactic to win you over. “I would like another baby but only if you let me. I won’t force you if you’re not ready.”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart.”

#the moans writing #jaehyun fanfic #nct jaehyun #nct jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun nct #nct jaehyun fluff #nct fanfic #nct127 fanfic

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displacedentities · 3 years

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Night Out

My quickfic for @doodledrawsthings Coffee Shop AU! In truth I had this in the books for months and just never got around to finish it ;u; Unfortunately only the muse can decide when it’s time to slap me with enough serotonin to work on this, so I rode the high from recent art and wrapped it up! It’s not as clean as I wanted, but you know what, have it anyway.

-Myst -----

Finally. Another shift in the books.

With a heavy sigh, Luka stretches his back as the clock chimes up on the wall over the glass doors. Deft fingers untie the back before he slips the fabric apron over his head. A light snap of magnets punctuates the white noise of steaming coffee machines, and Luka stuffs his nametag into his pants pocket.

Luka was embarrassed to think about how much of a struggle it was to steady on for the entirety of the workday. Stress ate at him all the time, over so many things. Harriet was priority number one - did he remember to prep her meals for the day? Was she still ok, back in the apartment? Was Professor Popcorn in need of more repairs? Luka would happily handle such a task, of course, but...

He wasn't guaranteed to have thumbs when the evening finally came. There was his time limit to think about.

"Hey Luka?"

Damn, but being cursed was such a pain. Chopping vegetables was a particular bane of his existence. How could he trust himself with a knife like that? Ugh. He hated to make Harriet do it - no child should be wielding a knife before the age of 13, for any reason. He'd just have to MacGyver a solution or something.

"Luka..."

And on top of that, he had the upcoming bills to fret over. Rent was due in a few days, and he'd made a decent amount in tips, but they could not afford to have their upstairs neighbor burst a pipe again. He and Harriet had spent the entire afternoon toweling up their poor carpets to avoid getting mildew. Or worse, bugs. Luka was a fan of bugs, but not in his carpets, or sneaking into the mattress where they could bite his daughter.

"HEY!"

This time, the voice manages to pierce the haze of worry writhing in Luka's brain. Jolting to attention, the auburn-haired adult turns around, blinking owlishly at his colleague, Clover.

The braided redhead is giving him a wan smile, her brows furrowed in worry as she sets down a large bag of coffee beans under the counter.

"You spaced out again, buddy. Did you hear a word I said?" the barista asks, folding her arms over her stained apron.

"Uhh... you said my name," Luka replied, feeling a bit awkward as he chuckles once. "Sorry, I probably missed anything you might have asked me."

"I was asking if you ever go out."

"Ah- what?"

That was unexpected. Go out?

"You know-" Clover holds up her hands to gesture to the world in general, and beyond the coffee shop doors "-out! Like, with friends or anybody?"

Ah.

Luka laughs once, rubbing a hand on one side of his face.

"You mean since I moved into town? Nah, not really. Me and my daughter have only been here a few months - can't say we made many friends just yet."

Nor was that a risk they could take. Who knows how long they could stay here, before he was inevitably found out? One could argue it was a risk just- doing what he was doing now. Trying to hold a job, staying in an apartment; a semi-permanent living situation. They'd been on the road so long, old habits were quite hard to break. And if he was entirely honest with himself, Luka didn't know yet if he felt safe, even six months past the first day he arrived in the rural town of Subcon.

Clover's frown deepens, her arms dropping back to her sides. Her dropped guard betrays her worry, before she tries to play it off with another lighthearted smile and upbeat words.

"Oh come on, it can't have been that long since you've just done something fun for the sake of it. When was the last time you went out with friends and enjoyed yourself?" she asks.

"Why is this important?" Luka asks, his own guard slowly rising. He didn't quite see where she was going with this, but he wasn't sure he'd like it.

Oops- maybe not the most polite way to phrase that, as he sees an awkward flinch on Clover's face. Quick, recover! Luka chuckles once, also trying to lighten the mood.

"You and MJ never really asked me that kind of stuff before. I thought I was hired to serve coffee, not tea."

"We serve both, ya doofus," Clover smirks, rubbing one of her well-muscled arms with the other in a self-conscious gesture. "You should know that, since you've been working here almost four months now. And uh- well, MJ just kind of noticed you always seem very tired whenever you leave work."

Luka smiles back, but it's forced. Careful. Don't give any hints that it's anything serious. Don't be suspicious.

"Oh, that? I uh- I'm not used to the retail scene. I'll probably adapt to it soon."

Clover doesn't seem convinced. Still, her expression is sympathetic, rather than judgmental or suspicious. She leans her back on the counter, looking over Luka's exhausted demeanor and baggy eyes with a skeptical smile.

"I'm sure you will." She rests her hands on the counter. "In the meantime, you should go out for bowling with me and MJ! We were planning this outing for about a week, and maybe you'd wanna come with?"

Luka stops mid-folding of his apron. He turns toward Clover with surprise.

"Bowling? As in- knocking over pins in an alley, bowling?"

Clover rolls her eyes, amused. "No, as in rolling cereal bowls. Yes, that kind of bowling, Luka. It'll be fun! Eat some cheap pizza, knock over pins, watch the uncanny valley animations on the TV screen, the whole shebang. You up for joining us?"

"I uh- I didn't know there was a bowling alley here?" Luka says, his voice pitching up as he gives a sheepish laugh. "I- I don't know..."

Shit.

He could already feel the first touches of his curse starting to well up. A quick glance to his hands- okay, no purple yet. But it was coming.

Luka tucks his hands behind his back just in case.

"I'm not sure, I have Harriet to worry about..." he fumbles, rushing to think of excuses. It hurts his heart a little when he sees the disappointed expression Clover wears.

"Are you sure?" she asks, her tone gentle. "It'll only be a for a couple of hours - I could ask Cookie next door if she'd be willing to handle your daughter for the night. She's a fantastic sitter, and your daughter would have Mu to play with."

Luka opened his mouth, preparing to turn it down- then closed it again, brows furrowed as he chews over the thought.

Only a few hours... hm. His curse's current time limit was somewhere a little short of eight hours, he was sure. As long as he didn't have to pick up a shift at work, he would have most of his day free to spend out of the motel. An outing to a bowling alley couldn't possibly last eight hours, though he'd... never actually gone bowling before.

"I.... don't know... I've never been bowling, I'll just hold you back-"

"Nonsense," Clover says, waving off his excuse immediately. "MJ and I aren't professionals or anything, Luka - it's just for fun! You've never been?? That means you've gotta try it, at least once. Please?"

...mmh. Luka would be lying if he said he wasn't very tempted. But he had so much to worry about! His daughter, his curse... keeping his job, being able to support the two of them. Not to mention, getting used to his slow camaraderie with Clover and MJ. That sort of outing would throw their friendship into first gear.

"It's ok," Clover interrupts his thoughts, standing back up straight as she grabs a rag and finishes wiping down the counter. "You don't have to come, we just thought... you know, it might be fun. You look like you need some serious time to unwind, dude. All we ever see of you is showing up to work, dealing with customers, then you leave. And hey, if you change your mind, the offer's still open."

Luka curls his fingers, foot tapping the floor in small fidget.

"Well, I'm gonna start closing up the back," Clover says, tossing the rag into a laundry bin next to the employee break room. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Wait!"

Clover stops, turning around with the laundry basket.

"What day were you planning to do it?"

What am I thinking?? I can't go on an outing with them!

Unaware of Luka's silent stresses, Clover beams, her smile lighting up once again.

"Saturday! Would that work for you?"

"Mnhg- maybe?" Luka concedes, forcing his own sheepish smile despite his brain screaming No nO this is a bad idea! His mouth continues to run away from him. "Saturday is my errand day - me and Harriet go out for groceries in the morning, and eat out at whatever lunch restaurant she picks. I wouldn't be open until the evening, and Sunday's game day for me and my daughter."

Bad idea, what are you doing?!

"That's perfect!" Clover says, delighted and still not privy to Luka's inner struggle. "If we close the shop at five, we can drive to the bowling alley around 5:30, play a game or two and eat. Should go until about... eight-ish? How's that sound?"

Say no, say NO!

"Sure, sounds fun."

AGH!

"Great!" Clover says, a skip in her step as she lopes off to the back room with the laundry basket. "I'll text MJ to let him know - he's already gone back to his apartment."

"Yeah, I'll uh- I'll text him too," Luka chuckles, scratching behind his head with one hand- and immediately putting a stop to that action, as he feels the points of sharp claws dig at his scalp. Both arms are dropped and tucked behind his back, a big smile on his face. "Gotta give him the full details and everything, haha..."

"No problem- see you!" Clover bids Luka goodbye, waving one hand as she cheerily hauls the laundry bin off into the back.

"Bye!" Luka says, his voice cracking from nerves.

Oh thank god she's gone.

Luka pulls his hands back out into view, and sees the telltale purple staining begin to creep up his flesh. Peck. It was already starting- Clover left just in time. He could already feel the sharp ends of his canines starting to poke into his bottom lip. He didn't have much left of the day in human form- he had to get home right now.

Snatching up his belongings from his locker, stuffing his work apron inside, Luka loops his bag over his shoulder and leaps over the service counter. He missed the rack of sugar packets this time, thankfully, his sneakers squeaking on the tile floor as he bolts out the door. The bell rings as the glass entryway opens and shuts, signaling his departure. Car keys are whipped out of his bag, a slowly deforming finger just managing to push the button to unlock the vehicle as he clambers inside. Just five minutes- he could make five minutes.

The engine of the car roars to life, and Luka zips off out of the employee parking space, trying his best to ignore it as his fingers swell and fuse together, and his eyes reflect golden light in the rear view mirror.

------

MJ's car putters up to outside the bowling alley, fixing his blue-dyed hair with a sigh. Clover, in the passenger seat, drums her hand on the door handle with excitement.

"This is gonna be so much fun," she says, turning to look over her shoulder at the stiff and uncomfortable Luka in the backseat. "I'm so glad you decided to come, Luka- we'll show you the ropes of bowling!"

"Great," the young man says, putting up another shaky smile as his fingers tense around his kneecaps. "Can't wait!"

"That's the spirit," MJ speaks up, giving Luka a quick smile of his own before twisting the key in the ignition. The car's engine dies down, the doors unlocking as MJ shifts the gear into park. "Clover told me you were nervous about hanging out, and that's completely fine by me - if you feel uncomfortable and don't want to stay, just let us know, ok? We'll drive you back to the apartment building, no hesitation."

Luka inhaled deeply, letting out a heavy sigh from the back seat of the car. It felt like his nerves were trying to shake him apart. A glance at his watch-

Was he really going forward with this?

...Yes. He was. As much as Luka worried, Clover had been right. It'd been far too long since he'd taken 'me' time.

Luka puts a hand on the door and pulls the handle, stepping out of the car before he has a chance to psyche himself out.

It's just a couple hours. He still had plenty of time, after his midday outings with Harriet.

Stay calm. You can do this.

The sign above the brick building shines with neon lights, saying 'Pins & Cushions' in bright blue and red. The backdrop is a painting that Luka can swear was painted in the 80s, displaying a bowling ball as it barrels into pins and knocking them askew with a cartoony impact mark.

"Pins & Cushions?" he says aloud, smirking a little bit.

"Kind of silly, right?" MJ speaks up, locking the car behind him with a click. "Sounds more like a sewing parlor than a bowling alley."

"It's because they boasted having cushioned chairs," Clover says, snickering. "You've never been, but most bowling alleys have these awful plastic chairs that hurt to sit on for too long."

"You mean like the chairs in high school?"

Luka's joke earns a quick bark of a laugh from Clover.

"Couched seating areas in a bowling alley was, sadly, a craze that never caught on," MJ says, ascending the concrete steps up to the building. "But this one did, and the place is like forty years old and too stubborn to change, so your butt will thank you later."

When the doors open, Luka is immediately washed with a cocktail of smells he didn't think could- nor should- ever go together. First and foremost is the thick smell of plastic and rubber, followed by the chemical odor of cleaning sprays, and the sizzling smell of burning cheese. Air conditioning blasts them from above as the three young adults enter the bowling alley, the doors sliding shut behind their backs. The sounds hit next - a cacophonous mix of rubber soles squeaking on polished floors, heavy objects falling and rolling, and the clatter of pins falling into the trap at the far end of the establishment.

It was loud, smelled strange, and the carpet looked lifted straight out of an arcade.

Luka was torn between anxiety, and a strange sort of excitement he hadn't felt in a long, long time. This was something new, something unfamiliar- he had hours to enjoy himself, and spend time not worrying about stresses of life. Harriet had a sitter, paid in advance with an alarm for when he would return, and he was out with- friends? Had him accepting this invitation solidified their friendship at this point? ...the thought made a happy butterfly flutter in his stomach.

This would be a great evening, he could feel it.

"Earth to Luka." MJ's amused tone causes Luka to jump. "Something on your mind? You're smiling."

"Oh- uh- nothing," Luka says, scratching behind his head sheepishly. "Just- thanks. For inviting me. I think I really did need this a lot."

"YEAH you do!" Clover thumps him on the back with one hand. "Come on! You have to give your shoes to the clerk so they can give you your bowling shoes."

"Ah, what? I have to take off my shoes on this carpet?" Luka complains, lifting a foot with distaste. "I feel like I'm stepping on twenty-year-old candy."

"It's part of the charm!" Clover sings, already removing one of her sneakers. "It's either this, or slip all over the place on the actual alley floor. You're getting the full bowling experience whether you like it or not, coffee boy."

"Ex-CUSE me!" Luka says with a dramatic gasp, hopping on one foot as he works to remove his own shoes. "I think you will find I'm a coffee man, thank you."

"Coffee twink," Clover counters.

"No, that's MJ."

"HEY! I will call lion's share of the tips for that one," MJ shakes a sneaker at them both in a mock scolding gesture.

"YOU'RE BOTH COFFEE TWINKS," Clover declares to the entire establishment as she fights off her last sneaker, racing for the counter before the others can catch up. "HURRY UP, COFFEE TWINKS, WE NEED TO PICK OUT BOWLING BALLS."

"I have dibs on the galaxy patterned one!" MJ yells after Clover.

Clover gives MJ an evil grin as she takes her bowling shoes and pays the rental fee, tying them before sauntering over to the racks of bowling balls. Her hand hovers over the selection, giving a teasing pause over the bowling ball made with swirled star plastic.

"Don't you dare," MJ hisses from the counter, pointing an accusing finger at Clover as he hands over the money for both his and Luka's rental shoes.

"It's either the tips share, or the bowling ball! You decide!" Clover yells back, drumming her fingers on the coveted starry bowling ball.

"Fiiiiine," MJ says with a dramatic tone, though his smile gives away his mirth. "You know I wasn't going to take the tips anyway, Clo."

"I know~" she says, giggling while she moves on to a different rack of bowling balls. "And you know I wouldn't do that to your poor weak arms, either, Moonie."

Luka finishes tying his rental shoes, thanking MJ before he makes his way down the small stairway to the alleys. It's very bright in this section of the building, with cushioned couches surrounding tables and standing consoles. Metal railings and a chute of some kind were positioned at each alleyway, some with bowling balls sitting idle atop the metal racks.

"So, what now?" Luka asks, the excitement of wading into unknown waters welling in his chest again.

"Pick a bowling ball!" Clover says, gesturing to the racks of heavy plastic spheres. "You'll want a heavy one, but not too heavy for you to lift and throw."

"Go easy on us, Clover." MJ shakes his head as he picks up his favorite starry ball. "Ms. Gun Show and her fourteen-pound bowling ball."

The redhead leans over and scoops up a swirled green bowling ball, hefting it on one arm and pumping it like a weight.

"You might get some guns yourself if you helped me landscape and move sod around my garden, Coffee Twink #1," she says, flexing a bicep.

"I refuse to acknowledge that nickname."

"Sorry, it's our team name now," Clover laughs, "the Coffee Twinks!"

"Hey, I thought our team name was the Comets?!"

"That was before Luka joined the team - now it's a 2-to-1 twink majority, I don't make the rules."

Luka just has his face in his hands, laughing through the whole exchange as he leans on the metal racks.

"You're just as bad as Harriet!" Luka laughs, pushing his hair back out of his eyes with one hand. "I don't even know where she learned that word - Cookie's daughter, probably?"

"Definitely," MJ says with a thousand yard stare, earning more laughter from Luka. "Go pick a bowling ball, I'll get the console up and running for our game."

Wiping tears from his eyes, chuckling under his breath, Luka turns to the racks and peruses the selection. The bowling balls come in all colors - most are black or dark brown, but there's a rather delightful mix of brighter hues like pink, blue and yellow. Some are marbled, some have glitter in the plastic, and a few very beat-up bowling balls have graphics of cartoon characters that were popular in the 90s. Well-loved by the children who patronize this establishment, he was sure. Harriet would love the Scooby-Doo ball - oh no wait. The one themed after a Pokeball, for sure was her poison of choice. And clearly the pick of the litter for many other children, as it was covered in scratches and dents from decades of use.

Ah- there was one themed after a jack-o-lantern! How fitting. He loops his fingers into the grip holes of the bowling ball, and heaves it off of the rack- only to almost crush his toes as the weight yanks his arms to the floor.

That was- heavier than expected!

"Oooooh, nice pick," Clover says, spinning her own bowling ball in her hands. "You sure you can carry it, though? That's a 10-pounder."

"I'll be fine-" Luka says, grunting as he lifts it back up with both hands this time. "Just- caught me off guard, is all."

"Alright, game's all set," MJ announces from the console.

Above their heads, a large tube television flashes blue before displaying a score board.

A loud k-chunk k-chunk k-chunk of machinery draws Luka's eye toward the other end of the alley. Metal rigging and machinery descend from the covered roof of the pin trap. Resembling a large soda crate, the rig drops an array of ten white bowling pins, before unclamping and ascending back into the darkness of whatever creation of god resided in that ceiling.

"You're up first, Clo," MJ says, waving a hand to indicate she should move forward.

"Watch and learn," Clover throws Luka a smile, the competitive taunt dampened by her genuinely helpful tone. "You want to throw the ball so it rolls like this-"

Stepping forward onto the squeaky, smooth polished wooden platform, Clover lifts her bowling ball to her chest. With a quick inhale, she lopes forward two steps, swinging her arm back with the bowling ball, before reeling it forward on the last stride and underhand throwing it into the aisle. The heavy green bowling ball lands with a tHDD before skidding its way down the oiled track, rolling in a long, smooth line. The swirled green sphere smacks into the bowling pins with a loud tHWAKK!!, sending all but one of the pins flying into the darkness beyond. The ball disappears into the hole, and Clover puts her hands on her hips with a huff.

"Damn, almost got a strike." Clover snaps her fingers, shrugging. The green bowling ball clatters back up the chute. She grips her fingers into the trio of holes again, and goes for another throw.

The bowling ball rolls down the course, straight as an arrow for the last pin. The pin spins off the wooden platform into the darkness, earning a whoop from Clover.

"Nice, got a spare!" Clover declares, throwing her arms up in triumph. She sashays her way back to the couches. "Who's up next?"

"I'm up," MJ says, standing from the console. Looping his fingers into his own starry bowling ball, MJ rolls his shoulders and steps up onto the oiled wooden planks. "I'm going to get the first strike of the day, just wait."

"Sure you will," Clover snickers as MJ winds up.

When he releases the ball, it rolls at very high speed- before curving halfway down the track, the topspin he put on the ball causing it veer off course and land in the gutter.

Face flushed, MJ coughs into his hand, suddenly very invested in fixing his shirt as Clover grins. The galaxy ball returns to the trough, and MJ pointedly picks it up again, winding up for his second throw. The bowling ball rocks down the course, and knocks over about six pins, leaving a corner of the triangle still standing.

"Woo!" Clover cheers, clapping as MJ returns to the seating. She reaches over and nudges Luka on the shoulder. "You're up, Luke! Show us whatchu got!"

Heart in his throat, Luka stands from his seat and steps up.

The bowling ball grins up at him, daring him to chicken out. It was heavy in his hand. Still, he walked up onto the polished floor, feeling the rubber on the bottom of his shoes as it grips the oiled surface.

Fighting the weight of the heavy bowling ball, Luka takes a step forward, swinging his arm back before bringing it back around like a pendulum. The ball hits the track with a heavy thDD as it’s released, sent rolling off down the track. Around the halfway point, it spins off course and lands in the gutter with a clunk.

“Aww,” Clover says, leaning over the chair cushion. “And you had such good posture, too.”

“It’s ok,” MJ speaks up, seeing Luka’s visible embarrassment. “It’s your first time bowling! Nothing to be ashamed of. You have another shot before we rotate players.”

Disappointed, Luka rubs at his arm. Well, that was a less than encouraging performance. But he noticed the angle of the spin on the ball. Maybe he could fix that.

The ball clatters up the chute back into the return trough. Luka picks it up with a huff of breath, holding it to his chest as he does mental calculations. If he turned his wrist at just the right point...

Stepping forward, Luka swings back and releases the ball, putting a top spin on the ball at the last possible moment-

The jack-o-lantern face rockets down the alley, the path straight until the very last second. It curves to hit the front pin from the side, knocking every single pin into the abyss beyond.

"OHHHHH!" Clover and MJ exclaim, clapping with enthusiasm as Luka looks stunned.

"You got a strike!" Clover says, applauding with a big grin. "You were totally pulling our legs about being a newbie to this, huh??"

"I think I just got lucky," Luka tries to play it off, feeling an uncommon shyness as he smiles.

Clover shakes her head, not having it.

"Luck nothing! That was pure talent, and you got a strike, dude!"

"Technically that was a spare, but still a strike in my book," MJ says as he rotates the turn order on the console, giving Luka a smile and a thumbs up.

"Oh let him have it, Moon Moon," Clover laughs as MJ throws her a pout. "Our new boy's got game!"

Luka hunches his shoulders, an awkward smile curling across his cheeks as he walks back over to the couches. Clover jumps to attention and makes her way to the track, picking up her green bowling ball for another round as he sits down.

This was... much more fun than he had expected it to be. The background noise of the bowling alley was surprisingly pleasant. He found he could get used to the dull odor of plastic and cleaner- and honestly, that hot cheese smell from what must be the pizzeria was tempting his stomach. But best of all was the camaraderie he could feel sparking between him, Clover, and MJ. Were they officially friends now? Or had they been already, and he was just- in denial? If Luka was entirely honest with himself, probably the latter. MJ and Clover had been nothing but kind and understanding, to him. His sporadic hours and excuses had done nothing to faze them with regards to their treatment of him at work. They still offered him drinks and invited him on this outing, offering even to pay for his expenses, didn't they?

"Hey Luka!" A call from MJ breaks him out of the small reverie. "You're up, again."

"And after this round, we can hit the arcade! I bet I can out-dance you on DDR, Coffee Twinks," Clover smirks.

"No betting. I know you can."

Maybe- maybe he had nothing to worry about.

---

The evening is going fantastic.

The first bowling game had been a pretty close match between Luka and Clover. Clover had the arm strength to pull off some mean and fast throws, but Luka had developed a system. Figuring out how to spin the bowling ball just the right amount had made up for his noodle arms and less weighty bowling ball. It wasn't long before he figured out how to roll a pretty straight record of spares and strikes, with the occasional 7-10 split. After bowling around, they went into the arcade section, with an entire paper roll of quarters to blow on games. A vicious Ms. Pacman multiplayer match had led to MJ smoking all three of them, and as predicted, Clover out-danced both of the boys on the DDR and Stepmania machines. Luka had to collapse over a nearby chair with exhaustion after his matches. He'd finished off the arcade run with a very lucky pull from a claw machine, winning a black cat plush with big yellow eyes that he was definitely going to enjoy giving to Harriet.

The three of them sat around their table at the bowling console again, laughing over a hot cheese and pepperoni pizza.

"No way, you didn't!" Luka gasps, wheezing for air.

"I did! I punched his goddamn lights out!" Clover laughs, slapping one knee. "The guy was being a huge creep, so I introduced him to my fist."

"I hope you didn't get in trouble with the cops or something for that." Luka tilts his head, giving her an impressed and worried look.

"Can't get in trouble if nobody reports it," MJ chimes in, smirking past his soda cup. "He complained to me, but I had the security tapes AND plausible deniability because I wasn't on the floor. Corporate took our side on this."

"Nobody from the city wants to drive all the way out to podunk Subcon for a random dudebro's complaint." Clover sits back on her cushioned seat, chomping into her pizza happily. "Mmmmm- delicious melty cheese."

Luka chomps into his own pizza, exhaling and blowing on it as it nearly burns his mouth.

"Easy, tiger!" MJ smirks around his own mouthful of pizza.

"I know, it's just so good," Luka says, laughing into his hand as he sips some of his cola. "But in like- the way you know it's not that great? Does that make sense?"

"Night in the Woods taught me the Pizza Scale, and I stick by that," Clover says, crunching through her crust to grab up another slice, washing down the bread with some soda. When she reaches for another piece of the pie, she pauses, and lets out a huff. "Oh, that sucks. I guess they didn't clean the bowling balls that well this time. Gross."

"Hm?" Luka says through a mouthful of pizza.

"Your fingers are all oil-stained from the finger holes on the bowling ball, Luka. Big Al needs to wash the bowling balls properly."

Confused, the law student shifts his attention down.

The ends of his fingertips are discolored with ebony purple.

Luka can feel as his brain zeroes in on the first sign of his impending transformation, and begins to shift into emergency mode as it relays the steps he must take in order to avoid further exposure. He'd gone over this information with himself many times over the past five years. It was ingrained in his mind, what he had to do, the information practically screaming at him. But he can't hear it. His ears are filled with buzzing as reality breaks into the facade he'd slowly built up over the course of hours.

No-

No no no-

His pizza slice drops to the paper plate as he fumbles with his bag, pulling out the cell phone from the liner pocket. Shaking fingers tap the screen with frantic speed, trying to turn the damn thing on-

9:17?

They'd been here nearly four hours?!

He'd spent the morning out with Harriet, doing their grocery shopping and walking around the town's outdoor mall as much needed father-daughter time. Eight hours of being in disguise had long since passed.

His time limit was up.

This couldn't be happening. Yet the numbers stare back at him from the glare of his cell phone screen. They even have the nerve to tick over to 9:18 right before his eyes.

This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening! It wasn't fair!

"Luka, you ok? You're turning pale..."

Clover's question just barely manages to pierce the haze, causing Luka to jolt in his seat. Posture stiff and breath shallow, he lifts his head to meet Clover's questioning eyes. She's staring at him with building concern, her smile becoming a frown of worry.

The tension is palpable in the air as Luka struggles to find words. Finally, he manages to say something.

"It's- it's a quarter past nine-"

"Oh shoot-" Clover says, sitting up abruptly as she grabs her own phone.

MJ checks his watch, wincing. "Oof. Sorry, Luka. I guess we lost track of time passing. I'll apologize to Cookie for the overtime, we can finish this round and go-"

"Don't feel good- going to the bathroom-" Luka wheezes, scrambling to his feet as he scoops all of his belongings into his bag and races past MJ's seat.

"Luka!" Clover yells after him, her heightened concern audible in her voice. "Ok, we'll- we'll start cleaning up! Let us know if you need-!"

Her words are cut off by the slam of the bathroom door. Luka's bowling shoes slip over the slick tile floor, his hands gripping onto the cold porcelain of the bathroom sink to steady himself. He brings his shaking hands up to view in the mirror. The blackening purple skin was spreading up his finger joints, reaching his palms.

No- not now! Why now?

Luka clenches his fists and his jaw, focusing every ounce of his will on making the purple go away. He can almost feel a vein pop on his forehead- if he still had veins, anymore- as he strains to make his unwilling body follow his desires. The purple starts to recede at a caterpillar crawl... but it slows. And the harder he tries, the more he can feel his arms struggle to hold their shape - becoming less solid.

"No- no!" he whimpers, clenching his hands into the sink again. The action splatters small droplets of purple sludge against the porcelain, which vanish moments later as the purple staining once more consumes his fingers - and now his palms. "Stop it! Just- let me be human! Please!"

He lifts his head to the mirror. Despair fills his gut as he sees amber eyes staring back at him in the reflection, and the beginnings of an inner glow fighting to come out from the back of his throat.

Luka lets out a wordless sound of sorrow, lifting an arm to pound one fist against the mirror in vain. The reflection is unfazed in its destitution, tears beginning to gather at the edges of its eyes and mouth set into a sob of clenched teeth. The reflection's canine's lengthen several inches as the eyes stare back, accusingly. The purple was starting to spread up its neck, just poking out the collar of the shirt.

"No..."

This wasn't him. But it had been, years ago. This was SUPPOSED to be him.

He curls his fist, watching as the fingers start losing their shape. Fusing together, becoming single digits and his thumbs vanish back into the purple sludge of the limb.

"I was finally-..." Luka whimpers, "...I finally felt human again."

-bang bang bang-

The sound of a fist knocking on the bathroom door causes Luka to yelp and jump back from the mirror.

"Luka? You ok in there?"

It was MJ.

Peck!

Grabbing his bag, Luka books it into the furthest stall of the bathroom. He slams the metal door behind him, fumbling to lock it with his swelling mitten fingers. Alarm shot through his gut as his shirt felt tight around his torso. Already?? This was faster than usual! Had he really pushed it that much?

"Hey man, are you sick? Clover and I are really concerned. Do you need any help in there?"

"NO! NO I'M GOOD!" Luka yells from the bathroom stall, clapping a two-fingered hand over his mouth as he hears the slight reverb echo to his own voice. Dammit! "I'M JUST- I'LL BE FINE!"

He was not fine, he would most certainly not be fine!

"Luka, you sound croaky." It was Clover this time, probably a short distance behind MJ. "Dude, are you sure? MJ, maybe you should go in and check on him-"

"NO!"

No, the reverb was stronger!

"Luka, I'm coming in."

"MJ it's fine!"

Luka could hear the seams of his shirt starting to stretch and strain. The seconds were ticking by as strings started to pop at the neck.

Shit, shit!

Luka turned left and right, the stall cramped and uncomfortable as the ruff of fur around his neck thickens and threatens to burst his shirt open. He needed a way out!

Aha! A small window, to the outside! Wow, that was probably the worst location for a window. And it was so small-

The door creaked as MJ started to turn the handle.

NO TIME!

Luka makes a dive for the window. His fingers catch on the sill, and he hauls his body up onto the tiny ledge, his head pushing up the glass and emerging out into the open air. Squeezing through the narrow space, he struggles to pull his feet through, kicking off the bowling shoes and hearing them clatter to the tiles below.

The door comes unlatched, and MJ enters the bathroom, looking around with a frown.

Luka was gone. And for some reason, his bowling shoes were abandoned on the questionably cleaned bathroom floor.

Just outside the window, tucked next to the wall of the alleyway outside the bowling alley, Luka is panting with adrenaline. He can feel his chest expand further with each breath, the fur mane around his neck already splitting apart his shirt. His fingers had fully lost their human shape by now, coalescing back into the familiar mitts he hated so much. A reminder that, no, he wasn't human. No matter what those people in the bowling alley thought of him, and what he thought of them in return... no matter how much he wanted to be human, again.

"Luka?"

His entire torso now fully drenched in purple, Luka hangs his head, listening as he fights to strip off the shirt suffocating him.

Footsteps, in the bathroom.

"...Luka? What the-... Clover, he's not here?"

"What?? But he- went into the bathroom! He was just-!"

"His shoes are here..."

"His shoes??"

Luka forces himself to stand, wobbling a bit further away from the window as he focuses all of his efforts on keeping his legs. He can't lose his ability to walk, not in the middle of town!

God dammit... god dammit! Why couldn't he just enjoy his night? Now he was wandering alleyways, half transformed, and MJ and Clover were no doubt worried to hell and back. What could he even say? 'Sorry, had to take a break to wolf out in the bathroom'?

-brrring brrring-

The buzz of the phone in his pants pocket- which was getting tight against his waist, he noticed. Luka quickly extracts the phone before it can be damaged by the fabric.

MJ's caller ID stares back at him from the screen.

The decision to trust these two with his information was biting him in his rapidly purpling behind. He'd been so careful not to slip up, and the ONE TIME he makes a mistake... He had another decision to make. He could not respond, and just be a complete asshole, but he could protect his secret a little safer, for just a little bit longer. Or he could pick up, and... he didn't know. Bullshit something? Would they even believe whatever malarkey he could cook up in seven seconds for bailing out of a bowling alley restroom? God, he was terrible at improvised excuses! He was a lawyer, not an actor! But if he answered the phone call, maybe- maybe he could hold on to that feeling again. The warmth of companionship of peers his age, that he hadn't felt since law school. Since... Vanessa. But he couldn't think about her right now. What mattered was his safety- his daughter's safety.

Peck. He didn't even think about that part. Could he really rip Harriet out of a somewhat stable home life, again? She was just starting to get along with Cookie's daughter, and he didn't want to take that precious first friendship from her.

Luka was only pulled out of the downward spiral by the vibration of the phone, which he only now realized had registered a missed call, and was now on the second call. It was still MJ, the picture of him in his Horizon employee cap still smiling from the bright phone screen.

He had to do something. He could feel his legs protest the form they was struggling to hold.

Survival instinct set in. First, he had to get away from the scene.

Stumbling to his malforming feet, Luka jogs away from the alley, ducking away from the Pins & Cushions and avoiding the bright neon sign on the side of the building.

As he walks, a headache hits, and Luka just knows his face was losing more of his familiar features. Didn't need a mirror to know that he was definitely the shade of a bruised plum, and that his eyes were glowing like gold beacons. The sharp teeth at the edges of his mouth were digging into his bottom lip as he dodges and weaves to avoid line of sight from storefront apartment windows.

The woods were so close by, just a few more blocks.

Faster. He had to run faster. But his legs- were fighting him! Already he could feel his steps become lighter, movement more fluid. It was a struggle to keep a walking stride, rather than just- leap into the air. No way was he going to fly a block from pecking main street.

His phone continues to vibrate, threatening the call to drop.

Right when he reaches the sidewalk, Luka pants for breath, collapsing beside the pole for a street lamp while avoiding the amber spotlight. Taking one last rueful look at his phone, he sighs, and presses the answer button with a doughy purple finger.

"Luka?" MJ's voice patches through. The reception isn't great, but it's sufficient. Maybe that was a lucky break, considering what his voice was going to sound like in a second.

"Hey," Luka answers. Yep. He sounded like a toad that swallowed a brass tube. "Sorry- about that."

"Dude, are you ok?? Where did you go?" MJ spoke so quickly it almost interrupted Luka, concern clear and evident in his voice. "You ran or something and- you left your shoes at the counter, and the cat plush for your daughter. Clover got them for you-"

"It's ok," Luka says, wincing. "I can pick them up tomorrow. I- don't feel well, and I have to go get Harriet."

"Luka, we could have driven you home for that," MJ responds, a hint of hurt and confusion. "You know you can tell us if you're uncomfortable, and want to leave, right?"

"No- this- I was having fun," Luka responds, cupping a hand over his mouth to try to muffle the echo. He had to wrap this up. His voice was getting less natural by the second. He really hoped the poor reception would mask it. "Look- I'm sorry MJ. But I really had to go."

"You're not getting kidnapped or something are you?" Clover's distant voice suddenly patches through in the phone. MJ must have his phone on speaker. "Because if you are, I'll hunt them down! Just yell where the car is taking you!"

"I'm not- look, I'm sorry, but I just had to go, ok?" Luka says. "Harriet needs me."

"I thought you were feeling sick?" Clover says, her worried tone now tinted with... suspicion. "You ran to the bathroom, and we were all worried about you, dude." Her voice becomes just a bit distant, as she turns to speak to MJ, but the phone picks it up. “Actually, did we ever hear anything from Cookie...?”

"No- I am-" Luka can feel his lies crumbling, nearly becoming true as he experiences a sensation similar to his stomach heaving from the anxiety. "Thanks for the wonderful evening, I'll pick up my stuff later- bye!"

"Wait-!!"

-click-

MJ's protest is cut off, and Luka set the phone down on the grass, putting his head in the other hand. That was terrible. But he couldn't back out on it now. He would just have to deal with the consequences of that phone call tomorrow.

Not like having shoes or not bothered him, anyway.

Exhausted and resigned, Luka slides away from the lamp post into the chaparral, and begins rapidly pulling his shirt over his head. No way was he going to lose another shirt, not after the last one. This was his last nice shirt, and he intended to keep it as long as possible!

A quiet gasp jolts him out of his frantic folding.

Luka whips around, shirtless, half de-pantsed, and his body a full shade of deep shadow purple. His golden eyes glow in the reflected street light as he freezes on the spot, making eye contact with another human being across the road. It was the stocky mustachioed man from the coffee shop- the regular who came by and sketched quietly in a corner. Pinstriped suit- which seemed to be the only outfit anyone ever saw him wore- an apron, and grey khaki pants. The thick glasses would make it difficult to tell where he was looking, if the man wasn't standing with his square jaw hanging down at his chest, head angled directly toward Luka. Everyone dismissed him as a paranoiac, a hermit who stopped by for his morning caffeine fix and quiet atmosphere to indulge in his imagination. Rumors flew that he used to work for some sort of tabloid magazine, and was fired- or promoted?- for how crazy his stories were.

Whatever the reason, this man was now standing, groceries dropped to the pavement, and staring at Luka. A very half-naked, absolutely not human-looking Luka.

Face suddenly burning hot with embarrassment and fear, Luka grabs his belt loops and bolts into the trees.

The movement causes the man to only gape more, making a wordless noise of astonishment before the forest breaks their line of sight and Luka retreats into the safety of the woods. Luka just barely remembers to grab his shirt and belt from the bushes. Vanishing entirely from sight, stumbling over debris as his transformation takes full hold of his body, Luka wheezes as his heart beats in his chest. After all that, he was seen! Peck! Did he just ruin everything because he wasn’t paying attention? But- but it was just the local hermit, the resident conspiracy nut. That wouldn’t be so bad, right? This wasn’t as catastrophic as being spotted by a teen with a cell phone open. Surely, this was the safest possible person in town to accidentally spot him mid-transformation. Repercussions would be minimal.

Thank god the man didn't have a camera.

#Coffee Shop Au #AHIT #A Hat In Time #doodledrawsthings #Snatcher #Hat Kid #Moonjumper #Clover #noticed a couple mistakes and it's too late to fix em wHOOPS #OH WELL

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girlindelusionn · 3 years

Text

hii, just wrote something decent for the first time in weeks!! here it is 😌

Sometimes in life you come into conclusions that are so obvious that you do not understand how you did not see them before, but at the same time they are so unimaginable that when they arrive they turn your world upside down. Amy Santiago had experienced that feeling before, only once, a couple of years ago. And, until today, it had never reappeared.

The first time was the day she realized her feelings for Jake. He told her, much later in their relationship, that the moment he realized it was that night on the roof. And she has to admit that that night meant a lot to her too, but her moment was later. After her "date" with Detective Mayors. Ironically, the same day she told Jake she wasn't going to date any more cops. Naive. But then she made the goat joke and he fell like an idiot and she suddenly realized how much she likes to make him laugh.

He left and she was not able to take her eyes off him and when she least expected it she was making the gesture. THE gesture. The stupid double tuck she does everytime she likes someone. And oh my god, did she like Jake?

Looking at it now, it is incredible to think that her past self did not realize her feelings for him.

But today she had a deja vu.

It was an ordinary Sunday, no urgent cases, shopping to be done or a place to attend. Today it was him and her and nothing else. They had woken up late, cooked lunch together, and ate while watching the first movie they found on TV. Now she was back in bed, with a new book and the fan pointed directly at her, the June heat bordering on unbearable.

She listened to her boyfriend sing in the distance. It was his custom. Jake wasn't much of a fan of silence, so on days like these, when everything seemed to be at peace - well, as peaceful as New York could get - he used to sing random bits of songs. Amy couldn't tell which song it was, but it had a good rhythm. She intended to ask him, feeling his footsteps heading into the bedroom. But when she saw him come in with the laundry basket, the revelation hit her so hard it left her speechless.

Jake had done the laundry.

It sounds stupid, but Jake had done the laundry and was now next to her on the bed folding each and every item of clothing. All this while singing with the most sincere smile she had ever seen. Jake, the disastrous Jake, whose apartment was a mess at all hours and hated with his life any type of task related to housework, had washed their clothes without anyone having to ask him to do so and without showing off or using it to score points.

And the best part, it had made him happy. As if it were a routine. Jake was happy. Happy with her. So happy that even doing laundry seemed entertaining. That fact brought tears to her eyes. She couldn't believe how far they had come together. She thought about their relationship from years ago and all their journey and the obstacles in it and god, she was being very intense right now but she was also incredibly happy.

It was Sunday and she wasn't working, or feeling guilty she wasn't. It was Sunday and she was in an unmade bed, with Die Hard posters taped to her walls and her boyfriend humming next to her and she suddenly realized that she too had been smiling all this time.

Jake, who had finished folding the clothes, looked at her and met her smile and watery eyes.

"Ames? Are you okay?"

"More than okay" she assured him.

"Alright…" he walked over and placed a kiss on her forehead. Then he walked away and left the room. Not without first saying "By the way, we're out of detergent"

And finally, she felt yet another revelation:

She was going to marry that man.

#amy's version of april 28th <3 #peraltiago #jake and amy #amy santiago #jake peralta

14 notes · View notes

oxhaven · 3 years

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Kawaakari : Last Light On The River

➹ description - sequel to kawaakari | samurai!yongguk comes back to your lonely town but it seems he has his mind on other things. You’re distraught on what to do and how to feel but it still remains, who will you serve?

➹ pairing - samurai!yongguk x reader as oc(yeji)

➹ rated - M for mature | 18+ | NSFW

➹ genre - NSFW | smut | angst | edo period japan | samurai!au

➹ word count - 5k

You could see the mirage of sweltering heat lining the orange dirt path. People lined up in front of their stores and even customers and passerby's stayed towards the side to keep the path open for the royal carriages coming forward in the distance. Their loud gossip turned into hushed whispers as the carriages came closer, seeing samurai in full armor leading the extravagant royal display that was pulled by finely dressed servants.

You scoffed to yourself, folding your arms over your kimono as you watched the applause and cheers begin for the presence of the king in your humble town. He had returned from meeting with some diplomats on the other part of the district, and purposely rode through town to flaunt his power over the people. You were proven to be correct, the gold rimmed door swinging open with the sight of a black covered leg kicking out before the sun gave light to the recognizable grace of the King himself.

Bodies crowded together just to get a glimpse of the King make his way down the dirt path in the gold court carriage that two servant men pulled from the front. His fine gold and black robes hung from his pale body loosely, leading up to the small flawless face except for the single scar over his eye. His joyous laugh roared over the cheers of people pushing amongst themselves to wave at the King. You recognized the red tint in his cheeks and half closed eyes, his body staggering in the entrance of the carriage as his hand grabbed hold of his falling crown, the hanging beads crashing against each other.

Ah, he’s already drunk. And in a good mood.

You had served the King with feminie company a few unfortunate times during past summers where he called upon your sisters. Head mistress never passed up the opportunity to offer the King her services, making you and the rest of your sisters dress your best and head to the castle to dine with the Emperor. It was uncomfortable and stomach churning, the deadly rumors about the King refusing to leave your head. King Yoongi was known as a tyrant, torturer, and sick bastard who took pleasure in every form of pain. You were proven right with the suffocating tension when you all settled into the dining room, the men keeping their hands off the ladies until King Yoongi flicked his wrist; permission granted to enjoy the feast and wine. The mood only lightened when your sisters got enough wine in him, a more comfortable expression on his face that was able to make you loosen up as well.

You remembered the many parties you attended like that for the King, making sure to keep a safe distance away from him as he served his men that he granted to join his events. You managed to avoid the many summonses this summer to serve the King, passing the responsibility onto your sisters as you settled for laundry duty. Serving the King meant more money; ten chickens, five pigs and a goat you could send back home for your sickly mother but you couldn’t handle that much murderous tension in a room, it was too much on your heart. You took on basic work back at the oiran with the other men that frequented the shop but you mainly helped out with errands such as these. Trying to gather fruit in the market that now was bombarded with attention to the King rolling through. You sighed out in annoyance though you kept a safe distance hidden away in the crowd, taking in the sight of the foolish King about to fall out of his carriage. You noticed the many samurai surrounding him, raising an eyebrow to their armor cladded bodies and stone faces as they led the way towards the castle. They definitely garnered attention to themselves, making you wonder what entailed during the meeting with the noble diplomats.

You watched the carriage continue to move forward, the many townspeople following the gold display in hopes that he would drop some gold coins for them. You shook your head, wondering if you should pack some extra unpaid fruit in your bag since no one was planning to do their jobs today. You moved to head back to the stalls but quickly stopped in your tracks with eyes going wide.

There were still more men coming, but you recognized this attire on instant. They didn’t wear bulky armor like the samurai in front, but you knew these guys were the real deal with their black robes and glimpses of the familiar crest on their bodies. The group of them followed behind with a significant distance between the carriage, greeting the people as they came by.

Your eyes scanned the group of men, searching out the person that you begged your mind to remember. Remember the appearance, the distinct features, call back on the love you once shared.

It was as if time had slowed, the glimpse of the black hair being pushed back with a tan hand, long fingers getting lost in the black locks before they moved to the back of his neck to massage the tense muscles. You recognized his thick eyebrows, above those dark eyes you could get lost in if you stared for too long. You recognized the nose, pink full lips and the peek of the assorted tattoos along his body right underneath his neck being hidden by his black robe. You recognized it all, drinking him in as quickly as possible before you dared to utter his name.

Yongguk.

Your mouth didn’t even fall all the way open before you were roughly pushed aside, screaming women mingling in the group to convince the samurai to take a chance on them. If it wasn’t for your eyes frantically searching for Yongguk again you would have knocked this heavy basket of fruits on each of their hands and started a brawl.

You managed to find him again in the larger crowd, only for your face to fall with the sight of the many women between his arms. A tiny hope of him acting a bit humble, pushing them aside and focusing on his own task at hand. Instead he welcomed the attention, heated bodies against his own as his mouth moved saying something to rile the girls up in a fit of giggles.

You didn’t notice the way your body quivered or the tears stinging your eyes making them grow red. The basket of fruit that you carried suddenly grew too heavy on your arm, intense wave of emotions filling your chest as you watched his head tilt downward, red painted lips beside his ear as a girl whispered something you assumed to be words of desire, a slight smirk on his face before his eyes darted up to catch yours.

A breath hitched in your throat as you rapidly blinked, feeling hot streams of liquid burning a path down your cheeks. You staggered back as you swallowed a building lump in your throat, unable to read the look in his eyes as he continued to look at you. You finally found your footing to quickly turn around in the direction back to the oiran.

“Yeji-ah, you can’t stay like this forever.”

You muffled your sobs into the satin pillow you buried your face in, your body shaking with the cries you let out as you laid on the fluffy futon underneath you. Your friend sighed in the mirror, carefully drawing a winged line over her eyelid as she painted her face with the make-up on the table.

“Crying all night isn’t going to do you any good.” she tutted, not sparing your form a glance as she continued her work in the mirror.

The night air that came in through the open windows was cool on your hot skin from a very long soak in the bath that you spent crying in there too. You still had more sobs in you to get out, believing that this broken heart was never to be healed.

“I will cry for many more then.” you drawled, moving your smushed face to the side and finally breathing in some fresh air.

“You can’t do that~, you have work to do.”

You raised up your heavy body on your arms, pushing yourself up into a sitting position with legs crossing over. You wiped your nose with the back of your hand and pulled the snot back in with a sniff, hearing your friend make a small noise of disgust.

“I waited and waited for him to return back to me. I worked so hard even though I missed him so much.” You whined with another sniff, your numb heart being hit with another wave of sadness mingled with jealousy as the memory of the woman whispering in his ear flashed in your head again. “He’s a sleazy bastard. I should have listened to him the first time he said not to pursue him. I hope the gods give him what he deserves and-”

A hard smack against the table made you keep quiet, peeking up at your co-worker who was finally looking at you with a kind smile and freshly painted face. “This is not the Yeji I know.”

You made a noise of surprise when she hopped out of the chair and toppled over you, wrapping her arms around your form in a tight hug making you groan. Her hands clasped your face, mushing your cheeks together as she made you turn your attention on her.

“I’m not going to sit here and say I told you so because I already did but you can’t keep ruining this beautiful face with tears for a man.” You blinked at her, your smushed face making pout as your eyebrows knitted close together. Her mouth turned into a brilliant smile, playful eyes sparking with mischief.

“I heard the yamazaki is dining in a bar near the castle, and it’s going to be a very fun party.”

Your head began to shake with denial but her tight clasp kept you still as she continued, “How about we go stir it up a bit more, and I’ll give you a makeover that’ll make every man drop to their knees before you get through the door.”

You blinked at her, your voice coming out muffled, “But Yongguk will be there.”

“That’s precisely why you’re going my love.”

“I don’t want to see women on his arm.”

“And he probably doesn’t want to see his men drooling all over you. But that’s what’s going to happen. And you will take back your pride and ego and show him the power of a courtesan that can kill men and women with her appeal.”

There was a long pause between the two of you, her words settling in before her eyes smiled at you and she smacked a kiss on your lips. She released her hold on you and moved to return back to her seat, giving you the option to let her help you or not. You didn’t really like the idea of going out to a party, much less know that Yongguk was going to be there giving other women attention. Your emotions were unstable; the idea of having to let go of a lost love you’ve waited so long for that you changed your whole demeanor to that of a young girl being married off to a fine prince. Thus, this fine prince ended up being a sordid asshole who had no morals. Though, you couldn’t hold back the excitement in your heart, a little piece of yourself coming back. The look on his face when he saw you in all your glory and unfazed attitude proving two could play this game. And you wanted the last laugh.

That’s what it means to work in Oiran.

Adrenaline coursed through your veins, mixed in with the couple cups of wine you downed to get you going. You took extra care in getting ready as fast as you could before the night wasn’t young anymore. You dressed in the finest gowns you could borrow, a kiss to your forehead from the headmistress as she prompted you to bring back customers since you weren’t making any money. Her nose wrinkled in disappointment but she let you and your sister go, holding hands as your laughter filled the night along with whistles of approval from men passing by. There were more people frequenting the district up near the castle, probably due to the King throwing another extravagant party to himself. But you made sure not to go too close, recognizing the famous bar you and your friend were headed towards that was lit up with joyous noise.

You squeezed the hand in yours a little tighter, your friend sparing you a glance as you held your head a bit higher, moving along the path towards the entrance of the bar. You heard the catcalls and whistles, men already falling to their knees to capture your attention like withered flowers. A naughty smile played on your lips, the fire lit lights from the windows shining on your face as you stepped in, your presence being made known by the men who were fascinated with your beauty. Donned in silk red and white robes, shoulders and neck exposed the cool summer air as your hair was pinned up in a messy bun with fringes of your hair coming down to tickle your exposed skin.

You glanced around, already gaining company as paid drinks were offered to you before you could even find a seat. Your friend and you loved to play a game of hard-to-get, only showing each other attention as men tried to get in between. Your eyes scanned the bar in search of the bastard you had your mind on all this time, biting down on your glossed bottom lip as your brown eyes searched through the yamazaki men.

Indeed you found him in the hazy smoked corner of the bar, giggling women at his feet and pouring him drink after drink, even feeding him a chicken teriyaki. He seemed to have noticed you first, dark eyes boring into yours as a red tint washed over your body. You cleared your throat and looked back at your drink in hand, throwing your head back as you let the burning liquid course down your throat.

A few more men sat at the table with you and your co-worker, compliments and words of desire already spewing from their mouths as you turned your work switch on. As a maiden who pleases men this was the same exact scenario, but instead of money you were earning Yongguk’s attention.

“What’s your name, pretty girl?”

This one had caught your eye, among the others that your co-worker was keeping entertained he had his dark eyes on you. You scanned him over, being surprisingly reminded of Yongguk as you took his features in. Tan skin, thick eyebrows, short black hair and an adorable smile that made his eyes smaller. He was much more giggly, his body leaning towards yours as you rested a hand against his chest to steady him. “Yeji.”

He chuckled foolishly, “Nice to meet you, pretty girl. Name’s Himchan.”

You chuckled to yourself, laughing at his drunken actions as you watched him take a bottle of liquor out of the hand of his companion beside him, not even sparing him a glance at his flustered face. He poured the liquid into your cup, up to the very rim before he did the same with his own.

You could feel heat against the nape of your neck as you took your cup into your hands again, carefully bringing the rim to your plush lips and drinking down the alcohol. Your face scrunched over as the strong alcohol filled your senses, making your body shiver. Himchan watched your actions closely, all the while letting his hand creep up your leg. The rough hand trailing up your thigh exposed more of your skin, his face leaning in as his tongue wet his pink lips ready to press against-

You watched his face fly onto the table, his hand torn away from your body as you held back a sudden scream. Himchan was out cold before he could even put up a fight, his body slumped against the table. Your head spun to the side, seeing Yongguk stand tall over you with a hand rubbing over the knuckles of his fist.

Both of your attention was turned to the loud roar of one of his men, seeing the rest of the bar had taken notice of what went down. The large man staggered before dragging a bottle of one of the wooden tables, swinging it back over his shoulder before throwing it towards Yongguk. He dodged expertly, the wasted booze splattering over the wall as the rest of the bar went into an uproar. Yongguk had spurred on a drunken brawl, the yamazaki men beginning to fight amongst themselves.

Fists were flying in each other’s faces as women screamed and moved to get away. You stumbled back, pushing away the heavy bodies that threatened to collide into you as you searched out for your friend. Your search was short-lived, a familiar rough hand wrapping around your wrist and pulling you out.

A rush of fresh air hit your heated face as you welcomed the outside, gathering your loose robes with your other free hand. You stared at the back of the man pulling you away from the bar, an ocean of mixed emotions washing over your body as you searched for your voice.

“Guk!”

He didn’t even spare you a glance, continuing to drag you along to wherever he was going.

“Stop!” you let out again with a shaky voice, attempting to pull your arm back but his grip proved stronger.

“My fucking arm, stop!!”

You collided into his body abruptly, his familiar scent filling your senses as you instinctively grabbed his body. You didn’t have time to gather your bearings, your head being tilted back with a possessive hand in the back of your hair and pulling it down. Soft lips met your own and it took every muscle to tighten over for you not to melt. His lips were firm but needy, kissing you just like you imagined you would when the two of you were granted to meet again.

You heard a growl rip from his throat the same time his other free hand clutched around the fabric on your chest. Your heart skipped at the thought of him ripping your garments off of you when you were still outside, but he controlled himself as he released it and let his hand trail up your heart skin to wrap gently around your neck.

He pulled away from your lips much to your disappointment, the hand on your neck keeping you in place as your eyes fluttered open.

“Gukkie..”

He looked just as completely entranced as you probably looked to him, holding each other’s stares as your breaths mingled together in the short distance. He dragged his hand down from your neck, stepping back with his hand now in yours before leading you off again to a nearby ryokan. The both of you hurried in, ignoring the judging eyes of the innkeeper who recognized the face of the yamazaki. Yongguk led you down to a room, guiding you in and shutting the door behind the two of you.

You brought him into your arms, leaning up to kiss him like you did before with more desire as you fought with robes on your body. He pushed you down, falling onto the floor and silently thanking that there was already a soft futon set up underneath you. He didn’t stray too far from your body, kissing you hungrily before dragging his lips down your neck.

You had played this out in your head a trillion times, thinking of all the different ways this could go. But now here you were, unable to do anything with your hands as they scratched and pulled on his body trying to anchor yourself with the pleasure and emotions your body was experiencing.

He managed to suck a few red patches over your neck and chest, already putting claim on you as his lips trailed down further. Your silk robes were no match for his steady hands putting shame to the hard time you were having earlier. You couldn’t decide if his kisses were hot against your skin or if your body was so hot that his kisses were cooling you down. Either way he had reached down to a region that needed him the most, your thighs spreading on instinct for him.

A finger dipped into your pool, swirling about before he pulled it up to the light revealing a sheen of wetness on his digit. His dark eyes caught yours in a heated gaze, making sure you watched him take his middle finger into his mouth, sucking it clean. You moaned wantonly at the sight, quickly biting it back with a whine in fear of your loudness.

He watched his head dive in, feeling his tongue against your slick folds as he licked up hungrily. You covered your mouth in silent scream, feeling his tongue quickly work into rhythm that circled around your folds and lapped up to flick your clit.

You pressed your hand against your mouth tighter, the noise in your throat finding its way out as your lips mouthed curses into your palm. Your free hand found it way into his hair, but he quickly pulled your grasp into his own hand and held on securely. His tongue dipped into your hole, pushing it in as far as it would go making your walls sputter in desire for more length, more girth, and more heat. Your legs were a quivering mess as he lapped you up, altering with his tongue going inside you in a mocking gesture of what was soon to come.

You had needed this. Badly.

Your robes were beginning to stick to your body though you were quite exposed to the air that began to fill with sex. You almost couldn’t take it when his mouth wrapped around your rosebud, sucking into his mouth and letting his tongue swirl around making you scream into your hand. You began to buck into his mouth, wanting even more of the pleasure you didn’t know what to do with.

He swirled his tongue over your pussy a few more times, a squelching noise filling the room shamefully as you whined to mask over the sound. Disappointment washed over you when he moved away, only to clench your walls at the sight of him sitting on the back of his heels, loosening the tie around his yukata.

Your eyes darted down as his robe opened up gracing you with the sight of his tan skin, toned body that was donning fresh new battle scars since the last you’ve seen of him. Nothing caught your eyes more than the hard meat standing at attention. You didn’t notice your legs were quivering in anticipation until his hands were underneath your thighs, pushing them back to fold over your torso. The concept of time had escaped from you not knowing if Yongguk was moving too fast or too slow as your eyes strained to watch him the pitch of darkness. You realized you didn’t need to when you could feel it, feel the head of his cock at your entrance coating itself in your wetness all the more making that same shameful sound.

He was pushing himself in before you knew it, making a lustful noise tear from your throat as you stared up at him with eyes losing focus. You heard hiss out a curse, something about the tightness as he permitted his dick to go in deeper.

Claim you.

He held the back of your knees firmly, letting them shake in his hold as he guided his cock to go inside of you. He was so large, too thick for you to take in all at once. He knew this, which is why he pulled back to push in more slowly earning another fucked out whine from your throat. The two of you continued on like that until he was satisfied with what length you could take, pulling his hips back and experimentally snapping back in. Your body took the move well, coating his dick in a sheen of wetness as he built up a steady, slow rhythm. Even though your body was taking it well the pleasure was too much for you to handle. It had been so long since the last time for you never dared to have sex with another man if it wasn’t Yongguk. No amount of fantasizing and masturbating prepared you for this as you held onto his wrists so you wouldn’t lose yourself to the pleasure.

Yongguk watched his dick slip inside you, picking up speed as you took more of his length. Your wells sputtered over his girth, the tightness coaxing him to spill himself so early in the act. He chased the temptation away, snapping his hips into your own until his trance broke with your noise breaking into a high pitch. He whispered a soft apology, before returning to a bearable pace and letting his eyes scan over your body. You were a mess that was all his, in a shameful position that opened up just for him. You couldn’t hold himself back from picking up speed again, wanting to hear more of the noises spilling from your mouth. You were calling upon the gods, not bothering to hold back your wanton sounds as you spurred Yongguk on. You ignored the soreness in your legs as he pushed them back further, letting his body hover over you as he slammed his cock into your squelching pussy. Your eyes rolled back as you begged for it, making sure to tighten your walls over him everytime he came down.

He cursed aloud before falling back onto his knees, halting his movements as he gained a tighter grip on the back of your knees. His dick slipped in and out of you, a slower pace than before though you weren’t complaining. The oncoming feeling of heat building in your lower stomach made you whine, as you reached out uselessly for Yongguk.

He stared down at your pleading expression, messy hair sticking to the sides of your face, lustful eyes begging out, “Make it last...please, make it last.”

You whispered the words over and over, listening to the growl that tore from his throat as he disciplined himself to keep a steady pace as he felt your walls squeeze over his cock. Your orgasm washed over in waves, a gurtled moan of his name as your eyes rolled back and curses spewed from your shameful mouth. You choked on a whine when he picked up speed, your sore legs falling to his sides as he released them and his hands fell between you. You listened to his mingled grunts and moans as he fucked you like he wanted. You wrapped your heavy arms around him, letting your mouth trail kisses along his neck and whispered dirty nothings into the air just for him to hear. He cursed loudly, quickly pulling out and emptying himself on the lower part of your stomach. You felt the hot spurts of liquid on your skin, the act of it almost turning you on again.

He fell over you again, welcoming his body in open arms as a tired smile played on your face. The both of you were spent and sleep was calling to you but the excitement of being with Yongguk after so long kept you up. You traced pictures into his back, your mind racing with the things you wanted to say to him.

You felt the weight on your body raise off of you, a look of surprise donning your features as you watched him gather his robe to cover him again and move away from your body. You quickly sat up, pulling your own silk to cover your body as you silently watched his back turn to you.

“So we have sex and that’s it? No I’ve missed you or this is where I’ve been this whole time?”

He was silent to your shaky questions, a hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “You’ll be safe here tonight. Go home in the morning.”

You scoffed in disbelief, a familiar twinge in your heart as you blurted, “You’re a sleazy bastard. You take all the women you want and throw them away after one night. If I didn’t show up tonight it would probably be another woman in here with you wouldn’t there?”

“Stop it.” his deep voice gently commanded, his back still turned to you as anger welled up inside.

“I’ve waited all this time for you and the first thing you do when you get back is play with some prostitutes and ignore me? When were you going to make time for me!?” Your voice was much louder, enough to wake up other possible guests in the inn. Your mouth pressed closed when he turned around with a harsh stare until you realized what was being held in them. Your jaw trembled as you felt your eyes burn, hoping to get the rest of it out in a clear voice.

“Did you forget about everything between us?”

You stared each other down for a long while, refusing to break eye contact in fear that if you did it meant he no longer carried those feelings for you. You blinked when he moved towards you, a hand on the back of your neck pulling you to the lips that placed a soft kiss on your head.

“Keep your feelings close to your heart. Don’t let anyone else see what’s inside.”

You gasped when you felt the tight tension on your neck make a snap, your consciousness quickly going out and sleep welcoming you home.

78 notes · View notes

stutterfly · 4 years

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Snow, Don’t Tell (M) | PJM

Granny Park’s Gossip:

Jimin is the sweetest boy around, no comparison. Always ready to listen to my stories, visits me regularly and tells me all sorts of tales about those friends of his. Might as well adopt them all, I know so much about them! Jiminie’s the best grandson anyone could ask for, really, a little angel, and his little gang of friends is quite the hoot. He’s been a little quiet about himself lately, though. Kept going on and on about that neighbor of his, how cute she always looks and how he likes to help her with her groceries, but I think maybe I teased him just a little too much about that crush of his. Maybe he’ll figure out a way to get closer to her this holiday season, because who knows how much longer he’ll pine over the girl if he doesn’t.

❄ Word Count: 27.2k

❄ Pairing: Jimin x Reader

❄ Genre: Neighbors AU / Friends to Lovers / Fluff / Smut / Humor

❄ Rating: 18+ / Explicit

❄ CW and other tags: heavy sexual tension, grinding, groping, swearing, kissing, biting, hair pulling, fingering, masturbation, teasing, edging, hickeys/ bruising skin, oral sex (male and female receiving), praise kink, love kink, mentions of threesome, hinted foursome, penetrative sex, protected sex, pinching, pierced nips, tiddyfucking, dirty filthy talk, whiny Jimin, Jimin is a Snake spilling all the tea about his friends, angst, mentioned alcoholism, mentions of toxic parents, some negative self-talk which is quashed by the prince himself, feelings of self-consciousness, insecurities about education, basically a slowburn speedrun that’s wet and wild, second-hand embarrassment, exhibitionism/voyeurism, Jimin is everyone’s therapist, reader is a mess, jimin is a mess too The Snowball Effect Collab Masterlist This is the first fic the series/project The Snowball Effect. Please click the link above to see the summaries and genres for each fic! Also, while each of these fics can stand on their own, they all end up at the same place, occurring simultaneously. There are also little easter eggs and secrets for the other fics woven throughout each of these! For the biggest, fluffiest Snowball Effect experience, we highly recommend you read each of them! Do not repost.

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‘Thank you’ is a powerful phrase. It can hold so much joy, affirmation, and even love. True gratitude is more than a word; it's a feeling. It's those unexpected, kind gestures when everything is falling apart: the small smile across the room to ease the tension, the jokes shared to lighten the load of a stressful existence, or the quarters spent drying a neighbor's laundry.

There's nothing quite like being appreciated, nothing quite like someone else being thoughtful for once, nothing quite like someone saying, "I know you didn't have to do it but you did, and I can't express what it means to me." Okay, so sometimes they don't say it, but it's strongly implied.

Around this time each year work grows incredibly stressful. Everyone is trying to push their work onto someone else's desk and leave the office in hopes of enjoying some time with family and friends. Taking off the last two weeks of the year seemed like a no-brainer. So why is it so hard to turn off the screen and actually do that?

Click. Click.

Another email answered, another client getting their response before the new year. Dark, tired eyes lazily drift across the computer screen, fluttering a moment until he catches his head leaning forwards and sits up straight with a shake of his head. How many more emails can there possibly be? Jimin stretches his arms towards the ceiling and slowly rolls onto his back, resting his head against the plush carpet of his living room. Aren't vacations supposed to be a time of relaxation and fun? Isn't he supposed to be able to turn on his out-of-office message, leave the post-it note on his monitor, and trust in his coworkers? A heavy sigh escapes him and a frustrated groan rumbles in his throat. "Why can't I just turn it off?"

Stifling a yawn, he pulls the phone from his pocket to check the time. Six fifteen. Why am I so tired already? Should I get some dinner?

He blinks a few times, feeling his eyelids grow heavier with each pass they make across his eyes. Still holding the phone, his hand slowly descends until the device is pressed flat onto his chest. He's teetering into a dream when the unmistakable jingle of keychains clattering against one another echoes in the hallway. His eyes immediately snap open, and he brings his phone up again. Oh shit. It's Thursday.

The device slips through his fingers and smacks against his forehead. As he rubs his temple to soothe the dull ache beginning to form, he ponders whether the phone is to blame or if work is the true culprit. Resting his head against the plush carpeting, he blankly stares at the ceiling and loses himself in quiet meditation, thoughtlessness consuming every second that passes. A small sound pokes through the barrier of silence, a muffled humming just barely passing through the wall beyond the couch.

Jimin lifts his head just enough to peer down his body, focusing just beyond the laptop at the wall separating his apartment from yours. The humming continues and he curiously tilts his head towards the sound, as though he can make his ears listen harder than they already are. What are you singing tonight, Snow?

He rolls over, twisting his torso just enough to rest on his elbows as he closes his eyes, hoping turning off one sense will heighten the other. Instead, he begins to imagine you frantically ripping off your work clothes in an attempt to enjoy your evening as fast as possible, quickly donning some thin tanktop you've saved as your last article of clean clothing for the week. You're always braless in the laundry room, your cold, hardened nipples poking out from beneath the flimsy fabric stretched tight around your chest. But it's never thin enough to be as transparent as he would like. His tongue darts out to wet his lips briefly before dragging his teeth over his bottom lip.

The humming wavers between louder and softer as you run between rooms, no doubt collecting everything as fast as possible in case he beats you there. Should he let you win this time?

"Baby, you're a fiiiiiiiiirework!" you belt out, very off-key before mumbling the rest of the lyrics you clearly don't know and slowly going back into a hum.

Laughter spills from Jimin's lips like a water fountain in hopes that it's loud enough for you to hear. When you continue on your tune without missing a beat, he leans back, his laughter dissipating into a wide smile as he slowly rises from the floor.

The laundry bin sits by the door, a pitifully small amount of dirty clothes resting in the bottom of it. He presses his lips together a moment before gathering clean clothes from the hangers in his closet and tossing them on the pile. Opening the door, he grabs the basket, casually strolling past your door and down the hall into the laundry room.

No one else seems to do laundry on Thursday nights. It's no doubt why you chose it as the time to do yours. One of the two washers is always busted. Tonight, however, both seem to be functioning. That won’t do. Jimin hoists himself on top of the machines, giving himself enough leverage to unplug the one that’s always falling into disrepair. Luckily the service ticket has been discarded recently. He pulls it from the top of the exposed trash bin in the corner and places it on top of the “broken” washing machine. He quickly starts loading his laundry into the functioning machine, humming the same tune he heard you singing earlier.

You don’t mind working during the holiday season. Everyone has somewhere to go, family to see. You gladly volunteer to work the shifts no one wants to distract yourself from the fact that you don’t. Overtime pay doesn’t hurt either. It’s easier to take your mind off of the disappointment that family-oriented holidays bring when you have cute little customers to send home happy and clean. Unfortunately, you always seem to get filthy in the process of making that happen.

The pile of dirty fabrics layered in your laundry basket tells you that you should probably start a load before showering if you want to have anything semi-clean to wear tomorrow. Plus, if you want to beat your neighbor to the good machine, you’ll need to hustle. Despite the sweat dripping down your neck, you don your favorite zip-up hoodie to attempt to hide the fact that your bra is in the bin with all the other items slated for a good wash.

You catch yourself in the mirror just before picking up the basket, oversized jacket sliding one of your shoulders and exposing your skin to the chill of the apartment. You’re torn between wanting Jimin to see you like this and hoping that you’ll only see him after showering, as you’re fairly certain you still smell like wet dog.

There’s an undeniable tension cutting through the air any time you’re in a room together, but you’re too much of a chickenshit to do anything about it. You’ve convinced yourself that there’s no way someone as perfect-looking as Jimin could be actually interested in you. You want the flirting and the nights spent watching garbage TV together to lead to something real, but fantasizing about how you’d knock on his door simply to confess your attraction is a lot safer than actually doing it.

Down the hall you go, lifting the heavy basket just past the threshold and dragging it across the carpeted hallway. You pop out one of the headphones in your ears so that no one can sneak up on you as you round the corner to the laundry room. Kicking the basket with your foot, it smacks into the door and you awkwardly reach over the pile of clothes to swing it open. The plastic scrapes across the tile and your field of vision travels from the floor to the machine currently filling with water.

Jimin sits on top of the washer with one leg crossed over the other, hands folded around his knee. A smug grin adorns his features as his eyes roam over your form, drinking in the surprise you offer so freely.

"I beat you again this week, Snow," he teases, bouncing his crossed leg a few times with a mischievous tilt of his head.

A puff of hot air passes through your parted lips, clearly not expecting the man to be waiting so patiently for your arrival. Your nose scrunches up in disapproval as you take a few steps towards him, hands on your hips. "You know I get home late on Thursdays. Can't you let me win for once?"

"Oh, you want me to take it easy on you?" He tuts, tongue poking into the side of his cheek for a moment. He uncrosses his legs and uses his palms to lean forward, raising his eyebrows. He pauses once he's inches from your face, letting the shallow space between you build the tension you've become accustomed to. "That doesn't sound like any fun."

You bite your bottom lip, suppressing the urge to close the distance between you. "What sounds like fun to you then?"

The way his smile falters as his eyes fill with devious wonder causes your heart to skip a beat. You swallow hard as his gaze blatantly drops to your chest and his tongue slowly rolls across his lips. Your first instinct is to cover the nipples you know are practically poking holes through your tanktop, but you power through the shame burning your cheeks long enough for his eyes to finish their journey down your body. When they settle on yours again, they definitely seem darker, full of hunger.

"I can think of a few things," he murmurs in a low voice, barely above a whisper. "But they're a secret." He giggles, a shy smile cutting the devilish tone from his words.

It's a deep enough cut through the thick tension that you can take a step back and release the breath you've unknowingly been holding. You roll your eyes and sigh as you note the repair ticket on the machine beside him. "Well, looks like I'll have to wait until you're done." You hoist the basket of dirty laundry onto the seemingly broken washer beside him, carefully taking out the small container of detergent stuffed towards the top. The words come out before you can stop them. "Do you have a big load?"

He drags his teeth over his lips a few times and allows his smile to grow impossibly wider. "You're talking about laundry, right?"

You clumsily fumble with the bottle of detergent until it hits the washer with a loud bang, trying to recover from your poorly-worded question as you position the container upright and eye the empty bin beside him."Yes. The load! It looks! ....Big... A big... Load. Did you stuff it all in there?" The thoughts pricking your tongue are short and choppy, full of regret and horny confusion.

There's no way to hide the mental images playing in your mind of Jimin taking you from behind, emptying himself into you. There's no way to hide the way you want to sink to your knees and take him into your mouth until he gives you the load you can't stop talking about.

He purses his lips and raises his eyebrows at you again, offering another chance for you to rephrase. You squeeze your eyes shut, wishing you could phase through the floor instead of dealing with the meltdown your brain is obviously having. "I just... Don't break it by stuffing it too full, y'know?"

Jimin snickers behind his hand. "Don't worry. I was able to fit everything in, but it's a reasonable size."

"Knock on my door when you're done," you say quietly, ashamed by the lack of bloodflow in your own head.

You turn to leave but Jimin grabs your wrist, causing you to spin back towards him. "Wait..."

He leans in, strawberry blonde hair falling across his face as he tries to get your attention with eyes that threaten to pierce into your very soul. His head swerves left and right and you mirror his movements to avoid eye contact.

“Look at me,” he pleads, throaty whine ripping through the base of his chest despite the smile on his lips. “Please?”

Your eye flicker to meet his, a pout staining your features that you hope will mask your embarrassment long enough to return to the safety of your apartment. “What?”

“Would you… Like to come over and watch a movie?” Despite the cheesy grin on his face, his voice falters and the tips of his ears are bright red. “I ordered pizza. I don’t think I can eat it all myself and I don't like leftovers.”

You know he has his shy side, but any time it peeks out from behind his confident persona, it still manages to catch you off guard. You do your best not to sound too eager, but you can feel the butterflies fluttering against your stomach and traveling up your chest. They’re telling you to screech your answer until your lungs quit burning.

It’s not like he’s never invited you over his apartment before. You've shared many pizzas, and takeout boxes over trashy reality TV for the past few months. But this thing you two have been dancing around is finally pushing your hormones to a breaking point. He seems interested, but always hesitates, letting moments pass that would be better spent pressing himself into your body or running his tongue across your neck.

It occurs to you that maybe he just likes to tease for some harmless fun and the prospect of things going any further with you isn’t part of the game. Maybe you’re just projecting your desires onto him. His jaw goes slack as you lean towards him, melting beneath his gaze. Dark eyes drift across your chest again, shamelessly spacing out when they settle on the pebbled nipples beneath your shirt.

Then again, maybe you think too much.

Every conversation is deeply rooted in lust, but the flirtatious banter is always coated with a fine film of pleasantries that mask your true intentions. Could he feel the same? If you can just get the static in your brain to subside long enough to form a coherent thought, to allow you to properly express your feelings, maybe you could get an answer out of him. Pushing down the excitement brewing in your gut, your eyes dart away and you nervously clear your throat.

“I… have to clean mastiff spit out of my hair,” you begin, your heart snapping in two when you catch the smile fade with the light in his eyes. “But… I’d love to come over when I’m finished.”

He visibly perks up and hops down from the washer, casually gesturing at the digital timer on its screen. “Meet back here in twenty?”

You unconsciously bite your lip, grinning like an idiot as you make your exit. “It’s a date.”

As the door to the laundry room clicks shut, Jimin bobs his head in disbelief a few times. This time you used the word ‘date.’ Tonight can’t be another movie night where he freezes up. No horror. No action movies or thrillers. It’s time to pick out some cute rom-com for you both to giggle along to, hopefully with an extra mushy scene he can use to set the mood. He jumps in the air, unable to contain his excitement. His cheeks are beginning to hurt with how much smiling he’s been doing, but he doesn’t care. You said it’s a date.

A shiver wracks his body as he closes the door to his apartment. He frowns at the number on the thermostat, quickly pressing the button to raise the temperature until it's obnoxiously higher than it should be. There. It should warm up in no time. He seeks the instant gratification of warmth, however. When it doesn't come he decides the next twenty minutes will be best spent in a hot bath.

He grips the edge of the cold fiberglass surface with his hands, sinking into the steaming water slowly with a satisfied sigh. He tilts his head back, resting it on the tile behind him. The sound of water rushing through your showerhead carries through the wall and he stills all movement, careful not to disturb the surface of the water until he hears the sliding of curtain rings along a metal rod. The pressure of the water pounding against the tub dulls in volume, clearly finding another target to assail. You hiss a string of curses that indicate the temperature is too hot for your liking, but it's far too easy to hear sin in each little gasp you take.

Jimin submerges his hand in the water, leaving the other gripping the edge of the tub. His fingers squeeze the inner flesh of his thigh before forming a tight fist around the base of his hardened cock. He stills, feeling the familiar needy pulse echoing against the grip of his palm, urging him to offer some kind of relief in the form of movement. But he’s determined to listen, straining his ears for any indication of your body’s positioning; what he wouldn’t give to be able to see you right now. What would you do if this wasn’t here? Would you watch me too?

Realizing he’s not going to get much more out of the wall behind him unless you decide to sing, he closes his eyes. It’s almost too easy to imagine the water pelting the tender flesh of your breasts. He can thank the thin fabric of your tanktops for that. The cleavage and pebbled nipples constantly drawing his attention away from your face has created a mirage in his mind that’s almost believable. Stray droplets roll down your body in places he knows his tongue could do a much better job covering. His thumb brushes up and down preemptively against his cock, doing everything he can to show restraint just in case you decide to part those pretty lips of yours and sing for him.

Finally he drags his palm up his shaft, finding a rhythm that begins to ease the throb building in his abdomen. He thinks of standing in that shower with you, strands of sopping wet hair sticking to his face as his mouth collides with the delicate skin of your chest. He thinks of tonguing one nipple and licking a stripe to the other. He thinks of using his hands to massage and squeeze at the heavenly mounds of flesh before him as the water beats down on the pair of you. Most importantly, he thinks of you pleading for more. All restraint he previously showed comes crashing down for a fraction of a second. The moan that rips itself from his throat is shameful enough to bring a blush to his own cheeks, and it’s absolutely loud enough to carry through the walls. Did you hear that? ...Did you like it?

Before he can consider pausing to listen for a subtle response, the loud thud of what sounds like a heavy plastic container hitting your floor breaks him from his daydream. Did I catch you off guard? Jimin does nothing to subdue the cackle spewing from his mouth. You certainly didn’t earn your nickname for your grace. Gradually he picks up the pace, allowing his fist to glide from the base of his cock to the exposed tip poking out of the water. The wet sloshing sound his fist makes as it bobs up and down is enough to drive him over the edge, imagining what it might be like to fuck himself down your throat. A growl starts low in his chest and builds into a whine as it tumbles from his mouth.

The glistening studs in his nipples rhythmically heave with each greedy breath, already cold and hard from the exposure to the air. His free hand instinctively moves to pinch the bit of flesh trapped between one of the studs. The sting adds a new wave of pleasure to the way his hand plunges down into the water and up again. He pants into the air, wishing you were the force guiding the hand over his shaft, creating the pressure and wetness trapped between his fingers.

He thinks of you on the other side of this wall, soapy suds running down your perfect tits, your stomach, your legs. What he wouldn’t give to be on his knees between those legs, latching onto your pussy and performing sinful tricks with pressured flicks of his tongue. You might want to get clean, but he wants to make you filthy, even as soft citrus-scented suds dribble down your body and onto his face. Would your legs buckle under the pleasure? He considers hooking his arms around your legs and leaning you back against the wall for better leverage, sucking on that sensitive, swollen bud as the water cascades down his back. What do you sound like when you really sing?

Almost perfectly timed, a moan breaks through the sound of his frenzied pelvic thrusts sloshing up into his fist. A particularly jagged exhale leaves his lips as he slows, the water undulating like angry waves crashing into one another. Click. Click. Click. The sound of the water pressure in your shower changes drastically. Jimin’s whole body convulses as he realizes what you’re doing. He plants his feet on the wall above the faucet, bending his knees so he can sink down into the tub up to his jaw.

He’s been in your apartment. He’s seen the handheld attachment. Closing your transparent shower curtains for company doesn’t mean it’s suddenly invisible. He holds back a curse as you cry out in pleasure again. This time you sound close to the wall beside him. Too close. You’re doing this on purpose. Do you want me to listen? Two can play at this game, Snow.

He drags his teeth over his lip and pumps himself fast, water spilling from the tub and flooding the cold tile flooring. Loud, unrestrained groans fill the air as the water sloshes between his palm and cock, creating a very wet, obscene squelching sound. He straightens his legs against the wall to bring himself up to a relaxed position as he gasps for release, trying not to drown in the water rolling back and forth in the tub.

It’s almost too cute the way he imagines your face is changing color right now. To his surprise you immediately retaliate with a slew of vulgar curses and frantic pleading. Electric butterflies pulse through his abdomen, quickening the pace at which his climax is travelling. It’s so close now; he can’t even pretend like that didn’t just affect him.

“Y/N…. Please… Come over… Ah...” he moans against the wall, knowing you’re panting just on the other side.

“Oh, fuck… I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum,” you warn in a shrill whisper, volume growing with each repetition until you’re practically shrieking. Just at the peak of your frenzied inhales, your voice dips into a low breathy whimper that he can barely make out. “Jimin… I’m cumming. Fuck...”

He slows his movements so he can better listen to you reach your climax, hearing his name on your lips just before losing the ability to listen to anything over his own thrashing in the water. His palm glides down his cock and back up, desperate to meet his own release. He’s got your voice in his head notifying him you’re about to cum on repeat. It drives him over the edge.

He groans, using pressure and strength to stroke himself one last time as ropes of white begin to shoot straight up towards the ceiling like a fountain and land back in the water. He pumps himself through it, riding each wave of pleasure until he’s sure he’s milked every drop of cum from his cock and the fountain of white subsides. He falls back and lets his arms go limp in the water. Now he’s the one who needs a shower.

Despite wanting to show off a little skin for your date with Jimin, there’s a chill in the complex that seems to permeate deep into your skin, digging straight down to your bones. Even the memory of your bold behavior in the shower can’t keep the heat circulating through your body. By the time you realize how long it has taken you to will yourself from the steamy bathroom, apply some “low-effort” makeup, and wiggle into a pair of fleece-lined leggings, you’re ashamed to have missed the window for your meeting by ten minutes.

You sprint down the hall in an oversized hoodie, desperate to apologize for your tardiness. The electric hum of the dryer greets you, and the washing machine previously occupied by Jimin’s belongings thrums nearby, but he’s nowhere to be found. Your laundry bin sits on top of the washer, its contents within the machine below. The backside of the repair ticket has been scribbled on and left beside your bin. ‘Are you still coming, Snow? ;)’

The ticket crumples in your palm as you stuff it in the cavity of your sweatshirt and make your way back towards Jimin’s door, holding back the nerves swirling in your chest. You want to scream in excitement, but that’s probably not an acceptable reaction, even though you reason with yourself that it is a very human one considering how long you've waited for an opportunity like this.

The door swings open before you can knock, a very bundled up Jimin puffing his cheeks out at you. For a moment you mistake his expression for one of annoyance at you. "The heat is out. Can you believe it?"

"What?"

"I just got an email from the leasing office. They don't know when it will be fixed. They're urging people to buy heaters and get reimbursed for them later," he mumbles, looking down at his phone and re-reading the message as you brush past him, immediately discarding your furry slippers as you go. The carpeting in his apartment feels so much better than yours.

"That explains why I can't stop shivering," you sigh. On your next inhale, the smell of pepperoni wafts into your nostrils, and you make a beeline for the small dining room table across the room, noting the closed box on top of it.

"At least they're offering to take money off of rent 'due to inconvenience.'" Jimin scrunches up his nose, shuffling his sulking form towards you. "But I don't want to go buy a heater."

You already have a slice of pizza stuffed in your mouth when you absentmindedly try to answer. "Ihaabwon." The words are a garbled mess.

His eyes meet yours and you nearly choke, embarrassed for trying to speak with your mouth full. The hand still clutching his phone falls to his side and he grins at you with devilish intent, eyes crinkling in the corners. "You're so cute when your mouth is stuffed."

You chew a few times and swallow hard. When you find the nerve to speak, your voice comes out smaller and softer than you'd like. "...I have one. I'll go get it."

Damn it. What happened to being bold? Maybe you'd be faring better if your heart wasn't pounding so damn fast. Despite this, none of your blood seems to be circulating properly to your fingers, your toes, or even your brain at this junction. You're suspicious it's all being funneled into your swollen clit, which has only just stopped tingling from the barrage of pressure you'd exposed it to. Regardless, you gobble down the rest of the slice as you exit, telling yourself you can't let your nerves get the better of you again. Tonight has already proven you can be braver than you think, and it's time to embrace it.

It's about twenty minutes into the movie when you finally work up the courage to place your hand on his, finding it just as cold and clammy as yours. He gives it a gentle squeeze and twines your fingers together without looking away from the screen. Your rapid heartbeat threatens to give away every ache his touch soothes. You do your best to focus on the flimsy plot of the film, but all you can think about is how nice it feels to finally have his palm pressed against yours.

The space heater across the room rattles, fruitlessly pumping out a stream of hot air that never quite makes it over to the pair of you. It’s now that you’re just noticing the soft glow of yellow string lights, creating a cozy atmosphere that you wish could be half as warm as it looks. You chew your lip as you pretend to watch the screen, feeling the weight of his head coming to rest on your shoulder. You try to avoid the thought of how badly you have to pee right now, resisting the urge to bounce your leg to stave off the sensation. The universe is too cruel.

Suddenly Jimin’s pocket begins buzzing. He pulls out his phone and silences the vibrations, groaning as he turns his face towards your shoulder. “Ugh. Laundry is done. I need to go get it...”

As he rises you feel his hand turn over yours a few times, gently caressing the length of your fingers as though he’ll never feel them again. You move to stand but he presses his palm into your shoulder, encouraging you to stay put. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it, ok? Keep my seat warm.”

You melt into the cushion, grinning foolishly at the wink he gives you before wrapping a blanket around himself and leaving. Trembling hands fumble for the remote control, pausing the movie to hopefully drag out the time you’ll spend with him tonight. You have ample time to relieve the pressure on your bladder, nearly breaking your neck on the wet, slippery tile of the bathroom.

Despite the crumpled proof sitting in your pocket, or your aversion to speaking on what you suspected was only a fucked-out fantasy, the amount of water lingering on that floor confirms its authenticity. Can you really pretend like you didn’t get off just listening to him moan and touch himself? Can you really pretend like he didn’t get off listening to you? You settle down in front of the space heater, warming your fingers on the hot air with a satisfied sigh and spacing out as you lose yourself in the memory.

Jimin returns from laundry duty after a few minutes, but you’re focused on the heat, closing your eyes and trying to get the chill out of your bones. He waddles his laundry bin to the corner of the room, setting it down before creeping up behind you. Soft fleece wraps around shoulders along with his curve of his arms. It’s warm, incredibly soft, and it smells of fresh linen fabric softener.

“You weren’t keeping my spot warm.” The chiding nature of his tone is undercut by the breathy whisper and pillowy lips thawing the cold shell of your ear.

“I’ll make it up to you,” you promise, eyes still closed when you turn your face towards the tickling sensation.

"Oh? Really?" Supple lips skim against your cheek, but he doesn't move any closer. "How?"

You exhale a ragged breath, trying to find the will to close the distance between your lips. All it would take is a nudge, just a subtle turn on your part to do so. But, like always, you freeze. How ridiculous is it that you can mutually masturbate, but sharing a kiss is somehow beyond your courage?

"I'll... keep you warm now. I'm all toasty, see?" Your palm, now slightly less frigid but still equally clammy, cups his chin as you tap your fingers against his cheek.

"I see..." he hums in disapproval, weight of his chin resting on your cold hand. "It seems like you need more time to defrost, but if you come back to the couch with me we can share this blanket I threw in the dryer with your clothes for a few minutes.”

"Hmph, are you saying I wouldn't do a good job keeping you warm?"

You can feel the twitch of his lips against your palm, shy smile forming. "Your hands are still so cold! I'm sure you have your ways. But..." He pauses, gentling bringing his thumb and forefinger across your jawline before pressing them together below your chin. "I'd love to see what they are."

You half-giggle, half-scoff at him. He’s laying it on thick tonight, but it’s not like you mind. In fact, you don’t want the night to end because of it. You both settle in on the couch with Jimin draping the soft blanket across you, remnants of a faint heat in its fibers. Just as the movie resumes, Jimin starts curling the blanket in his fingers, which causes the material to billow in his lap. It’s not like it’s a small blanket, but over the course of a few minutes you’re left with practically no coverage.

“Thief,” you finally accuse, fingers clutching the remaining edge slipping past your shoulder.

He blinks and stares back at you with a surprised smile. “Hmm? We’re sharing aren’t we?”

You roll your eyes and snuggle closer in an attempt to siphon back some coverage. Still his fingers twine the blanket in circles, inching the material further off the slope of your body. Your fingers slither across his chest and down the curve of his arm in search of the hand robbing you of heat. Neither of you are even pretending to watch the movie anymore. He tries to slink back into the cushion, smiling at your futile attempts to free the fabric from his grasp.

“You stop that,” you whisper, leaning against his chest and losing yourself in the way his eyes seem to twinkle in the golden glow of the lights circling the room. When you finally make contact with the fist curled in the blanket, he immediately drops the fabric and clamps down to lace your fingers with his.

“Make me,” he pleads through half-lidded eyes, tongue swiping a quick line across his lips.

You return the pressure on your palm with a squeeze of your own, pressing the back of his hand into the cushion beside him. “Fuck,” you breathe.

Your eyelids flutter for half a second; the electric chill running through your body may be caused by the temperature or simply the way his neck dips to lower his face down to yours. Either way, your breath hitches and you hook your leg over his lap. He takes this as an invitation to slide his free arm around your back, ready to press you even further into his body should you give him a signal to proceed.

You lean further across his lap, arching yourself up into him. “Is that what you want? You want me to make you?” you whisper curiously, lips grazing his as the questions spill from them.

“Please,” he whines breathlessly, voice cracking.

You close the gap with a sly, teasing smile, hungrily smashing your mouths together as though tasting every bit of him will sate that hunger. The hand currently sinking into the couch flies up to his jaw, thumb tracing a line over its contours as you’ve been aching to do for ages. He uses the opportunity to cradle the back of your head, gently positioning it in a way that puts less of a strain on his neck while the hand at your back coaxes you desperately towards him in a lopsided embrace.

The ebb and flow of your kisses have your heads bobbing in time with one another. He inhales greedily over your mouth, immediately coming back down to suck your bottom lip between his teeth. A small satisfied sigh lingers in your throat, and you feel his hand clamp down on the thigh you have spread over his lap.

Just as gravity starts to drive your form further from his embrace, you shift your weight and shimmy your arm out from where it’s trapped against his body. He allows you to pull away for just a moment, your lip snapping back to you with a soft, wet smack. You flit your tongue out to savor any sliver of himself that he’s left behind, already missing the way his tongue tastes when trading exploratory flicks with yours.

Planting your palm into the cushion beside his head, you gain enough leverage to fully straddle his pelvis. You tower above him, relishing in the wonder carved into the way he watches you, mirth creasing thin lines into the outer edges of his eyes. Your thumb glides across his cheek a few times as you lightly cup his jaw with your fingertips, your gaze darting between the reflections of light dancing across his eyes.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” you admit.

“I’ve wanted you for a long time,” he confesses, maintaining steadfast eye contact as he fights the blush prickling the tips of his ears.

It takes all of your self-restraint not to immediately ask why. Instead a joke forms on your tongue before you can quell it. “It’s the smell of wet dog, right? Drives you crazy?”

He giggles, throwing his head back with a loud inhale. “Irresistible!”

A shy smile parts your lips and you descend on him, crashing your mouth down on his to mute the sound of his laughter. Those gentle giggles quickly morph into muffled moans as your tongue dives into his mouth. It takes less than a second for him to counter your intrusion by sliding his tongue against yours rhythmically and you lose yourself in that hypnotic tempo.

His hands settle the top of your knees before his palms start running up to the crease where your thighs meet your hips and then back down again. Your hips involuntarily begin rocking to combat the need building between your legs, but your leggings have pulled away from your skin in the area you crave friction the most.

A staggered whimper breaks out between your frenzied panting. Whether the sound came from him or from you, it’s hard to tell. The few times you’ve opened your eyes to make sure you haven’t been dreaming, he’s looked just as fucked out as you feel. He starts drawing deep circles along the inside of your thighs with his thumbs and your need for him challenges your need to breathe. Gasping for air between wet, sloppy kisses, you card your fingers through his hair, knotting them in place as you roll your body in time with the tongue gliding against yours. This time he blows a puff of air as he moans into you, greedily latching onto your lip and biting down as the sound leaves a croaky trail in his throat.

Sliding his hands along the tops of your thighs isn’t enough. He spreads his fingers; the edge of his thumbs flare towards the inside of your legs, forging a path up towards your clit. The way the material stretches away from your body causes him to abandon his route in favor of following the fabric tucked in that v-shaped channel leading up to your hips. His touch is too light with the layers you’re wearing, but you don’t have time to file a complaint before he slides his fingers beneath your sweatshirt, clamping them down on your skin.

“Ah!” you hiss between kisses, hips wiggling at the chill creeping up your spine. “Your hands--” You don’t get to finish your sentence before he’s biting down hard again and dragging your lower lip through his teeth. “--arr sho--” Your lip snaps back to you, breaking away just long enough to speak in broken gasps before he closes the distance again. “-cold!”

He laughs against your whine, gripping your back and sneaking both thumbs beneath the waistband of your leggings. “Weren’t you going to warm me up?” You can feel him guiding your hips, dragging them in asymmetric loops over his lap.

“Weren’t you going to share the blanket?” you chide, breaking the kiss again.

He grins, gripping a corner of the blanket and throwing it over your shoulder. “I did. Now come back.” He eagerly tries to goad you back to his lips, but you pull back just a bit.

“There are better ways I can warm your hands,” you mumble, yanking his hair to the side to expose his lovely neck, golden skin riddled with goosebumps. Your mouth gets to work kissing and sucking on the sensitive, uncovered bit of flesh, gushing a little bit when he groans beneath you. But it’s not enough. If only your pants weren’t in the way, you could certainly warm more than just his hands.

He gives your hips a firm squeeze, digging his fingers into the soft flesh at your sides. “What ways are those?”

“Take off your sweater,” you tempt in a whisper, dragging your tongue up to his ear. “And I’ll show you.”

He frowns as you lean back, giving him space to do as you’ve suggested. Instead, he tugs at the hem of your sweatshirt, frown morphing into a devilish smile. “You first.”

“I… don’t have anything on underneath,” you admit, shying away from him.

He slips his hands around your jaw, pulling you forward. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“There’s no heat,” you remind him, mimicking his movements and tapping your fingers against his cheek.

“So you want me to take off mine?” he asks, feigning offense. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, dipping his head forward and following your movements. “That seems kind of unfair, don’t you think?”

Your confidence wanes and you squirm under his scrutiny, feeling particularly stupid for trying to be sexy. Sexy isn’t your thing. Floundering under pressure and saying something dumb is definitely your thing. Sweat runs down your neck, despite the fact that you’re still a walking popsicle. In your defense, the art of botching conversations is a skill that runs in your family.

"You're right," you agree, shaking your head. "I'm sorry. It's freezing. I'm an idiot."

You begin to climb off his lap, but his hands catch your hips and bring you back down. "No, no. You're not." He gently presses his lips against yours. "Don't worry. I know you've got me covered."

With a shit-eating grin, he tugs down on the blanket half-draped across your shoulder. You feel him wiggle beneath you before he leans back and shrugs his arms through the holes of his sweater, hastily working the material over his head. At least he has a t-shirt on; you don't feel quite so bad now. The flicker of static charges the air around him, strawberry blonde hair fanning out like it has its own sense of gravity. Without a second thought he moves back in to kiss you and an electric shock zaps the place where your lips connect.

"Ah!" you recoil at the sensation and he giggles between peppering your jaw with kisses. It takes all of your willpower to push him back against the cushion. He even gives you a little pout, his bottom lip protruding.

"You're worse than my clients," you tease, flicking your tongue out at him. "Be a good boy."

"I am," he insists while cupping your jaw and trying to drag your neck low enough to latch his lips onto. When he realizes you aren't having it, he snakes his hands down to your ass and gives both cheeks a firm squeeze.

"Liar." Grinning like an idiot, you grab his wrists and pin them to the cushions while you descend, watching his eyes as long as possible before you press your lips against his neck. You catch a bit of skin between your teeth and he hisses like steam is about to start pouring from his ears. Pressing down with the flat of your tongue, you explore the expanse of his neck for the sounds of pleasure you yearn to hear.

"This..." he exhales a lazy moan, trying to fight his body's will to give in but you can already see his resolve is flimsy. "...isn't fair..."

A deep, throaty moan vibrates beneath your tongue; your pussy throbs at the way the croaky sound crosses over into a melodic hum as you massage wet circles deeper into that spot where his collarbone and neck meet. Another moan escapes him between shaky breaths, higher pitched this time, and twice as needy. His wrists twitch against your palms, fingers digging into the cushion beneath him. Yeah. You want to live in this spot indefinitely.

"Hey..." he trails softly, head falling against the back of the couch. "... You're... Don't leave marks... Snow... hey... Ah... Y/N..."

Your lips smack as you come up for air. He's too drunk on the endorphins swimming through his veins to see your hesitation at the use of your name in lieu of the cute nickname you've grown accustomed to hearing. "You want me to stop?"

He whimpers, self-control buckling faster than you can even get the question out. "No, don't stop. Please, don't stop, Y/N."

He doesn't need to say it twice; you’ve been waiting far too long for this. Your tongue is back on that sensitive spot right by his collarbone and he's moaning against your ear in less than a fraction of a second.

“Mmm… you're gonna make me wear high collared shirts, aren't you?" he whispers, half shaming your actions, half just thinking out loud. There's a subtle attempt to grind his pelvis up into the space between your thighs.

You can’t help but laugh against him, tilting your head back just enough to inspect your handiwork. There’s a criss-crossed reddish-purple mark marring his skin, a placeholder to remind you where to place your tongue later. “It kinda looks like a heart if you squint. Don’t worry. It’s low enough the only way anyone will see it is if you’re walking around shirtless.”

He sighs, picking his head off the couch and trying to peek down at it. “I guess I’ll look at it later when I’m thinking of you on top of me like this.”

Your pussy clenches around nothing as he smiles innocently at you.

“...Are your hands still cold?” You’re already dragging his limp wrists up your thighs to the hem of your oversized sweatshirt

The hoods of his eyelids shade the glaze in his eyes, but do nothing for the way his jaw falls open as you continue dragging his hands upwards. You hiss as his fingers apply pressure to your body as they travel upward, leaving chilly streaks in their wake. Without hesitation, you chew your lip and cup your hands over his, pressing them into your tits. You look into his eyes for comfort as blood rushes to your cheeks. His pupils are completely blown out and you feel his labored breathing quicken.

“Is this okay?” you question, experimenting with a slight roll of your hips.

His eyelids flutter a moment as he massages your breasts, squeezing, pushing, pulling them. Your hands fall away to let him explore the hidden shapes beneath your sweatshirt.

“Is this okay she asks…” he giggles mockingly to himself before kneading his thumbs across your hardened nipples. “Do you want to know how much I’m enjoying this?”

He drops one of his hands and uses it to place yours over his pelvis. You press down with your fingers, feeling the solid erection tucked into the band of his pants.

“I tried to hide it, tried to get it to go away,” he hushedly admits, teeth briefly nipping at your earlobe. “But I’ve been like this since you walked in here.” He pauses, savoring the way you whimper when he drives his tongue into the valley behind your ear. “And everything you’re doing is making me harder.”

“Jimin…” you moan, feeling his cock twitch under the layers of fabric beneath your fingers.

“You sound like an angel saying my name like that.” Both his hands are back on your breasts, fingers digging into your flesh in ways that have you arching your back.

“An angel? Me?” Your lips curl into a crooked smile. “No one’s ever called me that before.”

As you rub two fingers back and forth over the hard shape in his pants, he clamps down on your ear with his teeth and lets a muffled moan escape with his breath. “You’re right. You’re corrupted. An angel with horns. I swear I can see them.”

“Oh, so I’m a devil now? Make up your mind, will you?” You press your lips into a thin line, trying to conceal the satisfaction in your expression when he pulls back to glare at you. Good thing looks can’t kill. His stare is as icy as the room. Is he legitimately pouting at you for teasing him? He’s the king of teasing; he’s just mad you’re just dishing it back in heaps tonight.

“No, you’re an angel with horns,” he insists, glowering as you continue to stroke him through his pants using just your fingertips. He responds by pinching both of your nipples hard, causing you to cry out and grind yourself down on his thighs. You think about slapping his hands away, but the way his fingers now work soothing circles around the sensitive nubs has you leaning into his touch, aching for more. You roll your hips forward, grazing his dick with your pelvis. But it’s not enough and he can tell.

“You won’t get what you need that way.” He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and leans forward.

You instantly cling to his shoulders, feeling like he’s about to push you off the couch. His hands clutch your back as he safely dips you onto the floor. The way he towers over you as he drops to his knees has you regretting your decision to not wear panties underneath your leggings. The wetness that just gushed out of you is definitely soaking through. You lean back on your elbows, giggling like a schoolgirl as you inch yourself backwards, closer to the heater. Your eyes never leave his form as he grips his t-shirt by the collar and pops it over his head in one swift motion.

You blink, exhaling a held breath as you catch the glint of silver studs protruding from both sides of hardened brown nipples. The piercings come as a surprise, but you’re excited by the thought of clamping your mouth over them. Your eyes continue hungrily scanning the smooth expanse of his chest as he drapes the blanket across his back with a small shiver. A tattoo lines his ribs, scrawled in hasty bold letters: ‘NEVERMIND.’

He smirks, crawling over you and slotting a knee between your legs. Your fingertips gingerly brush across the inked skin in wonder, not able to take your eyes off of it. “Is there meaning behind that?”

You verbalize the thought without thinking, knowing he’s probably been asked that a million times. You know not every tattoo has to have some deep profound meaning, and you feel a little foolish for asking what might be a personal question. But every thump of the heavy beat in your chest tells you that the more you ask, the more you learn, and the harder you fall. You’ve been falling for months now, but at least it’s not such a lonely descent anymore.

He plants a gentle, chaste kiss on your lips before pressing his forehead to yours. “It’s a reminder to not care what other people think.”

“Does it work?” you ask while trailing fingers through his hair. “I feel like I could use that advice daily.”

He laughs, although you swear he looks sad as he thumbs your cheek. “Do you think I would have waited so long to have you like this if it did? I care too much about what others think. I always have. I was scared you’d see what a mess I am and you’d never look at me again. I couldn’t bear the thought.”

Your stomach does a somersault. “I think… You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met. Definitely the hottest.” That pulls a shy grin from him. Your heart is soaring, telling you now is the time to be honest. “Jimin, I... feel happiest when I get to talk to you, even for just five minutes. I love hearing you talk about your granny because it gives me hope that families don’t have to be so messed up. I don’t have parents to call and talk to about my day. I used to be sad about that. Then you started doing laundry on my night. And you always make a point of asking about my day. It’s such a small thing, but it makes me so happy.

“Because you listen to my rambling and instead of calling me dumb or hurrying me to the point of my stories like everyone else in my life, you always look at me like…” you pause, trying to push down the tears you can feel building, but you know your eyes are going glassy because his brow furrows in sympathy.

A subtle frown takes hold of his mouth and his eyes soften, leaving an ache in your chest that makes it harder to go on.

“...like you actually like listening to me. I can’t describe how much that means to me because,” you continue, struggling to breathe and speak at the same time, “I’m used to being ignored or talked over. You’re the first person in a long time to make me feel like I’m not a burden. Or… a grade-A fuckup.” A choked laugh escapes with your held breath. “You think you’re a mess, Jimin, but look at me. I’m a mess. And yet, when I’m with you, I feel like it doesn’t matter. I don’t know how to describe it, but there’s something about you that makes me feel...”

Goddamnit. You’re blowing it. Jimin’s hovering above you, shirtless, after just making out with you and now you’re turning things into a sob-story. Tears well up in your eyes and your throat closes, forbidding you from saying anything else. Are you shaking because you’re cold, or because this is almost too much to handle? You should get up. You should go back to your apartment and cry it out and apologize in the morning.

You push him back and sit up, intending to do just that as the tears in your eyes use gravity to their advantage. You move to wipe your eyes, but Jimin’s fingers catch them right as they begin to streak down your cheek.

“Complete? Less alone?” he wonders, trying to get you to look at him. “I listen to you because you deserve to be heard. You’re funny and cute and smart. And you always have a good story about dogs. How can anyone not want to listen to you?”

He throws his arms around your quivering shoulders, bringing you into a tight hug. “I’m sorry that people have been so cruel, that life has been so unfair to you. But I… will always ask about your day. Not because you need to tell me, but because I want to know.”

He sniffles loudly and your hands fly to his back to comfort him. “Maybe it’s okay that you’re a mess because I am too. Let’s be a mess together, okay?”

He pulls back and now it’s your turn to wipe the tears from his eyes. You share a warm smile when your eyes catch the flash of red lace on his shoulder, making your heart sink into the pit of your stomach.

You gulp as his eyes follow your gaze to your favorite pair of red panties clinging to the fleece blanket. You immediately try to snatch them, but he beats you to them and closes his fist around the lacey material.

“Wow you already took these off for me?” he asks with a sly grin, knowing damn well that they must have stuck to the blanket he briefly tossed into the dryer with your clothes. You stumble over your own knees as you reach out to take them back.

He puckers his lips and feigns surprise, forcing air through his teeth as he raises his eyebrows. “Oh, they’re a little wet!”

You wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole as you snatch them from his grip.

“Don’t be so embarrassing,” you mumble, stuffing them into the pocket of your hoodie.

“But you’re so cute when you get shy.” He goes in for a kiss, but misses your lips as you turn your head away. Not to be dismissed, he moves towards your ear, ghosting his fingertips around your hairline.

“Besides,” he continues, lowering the usual melodic tenor of his voice to a sultry bass, “I know that’s nothing compared to how wet you are for me now.”

He knows. Of course he knows. Ashamed by the truth in his statement, you bury your face into the warmth of his neck, letting a high-pitched whine flee from your throat, which quickly turns into a muffled screech against his skin.

He laughs at the ridiculous sound. You’re so weird. How can you be so weird and still turn him on? “See? You’re so cute. Hey, don’t hide from me!”

He takes the opportunity to slide his hands under your sweater again, fingers pinching the soft flesh of your waist. You bolt upright and grip his wrists like you’re about to snap them in half.

“Such a brat. I take back all the nice things I said,” you whisper, rolling your eyes. Even as the words are coming out, you’re bringing his hands to your chin and kissing the brim of his curled knuckles.

“You can’t,” he weakly drawls, losing himself in your touch.

He walks his fingers over your bottom lip and drums them against the inside of your mouth, watching your lip snap back to you with each slow, alternating swipe. You dart your tongue out to coat the pads of his fingers, wanting to tease the wet heat of your mouth closing down on him. But the way his eyelashes hopelessly batt as he tries to close his eyes and compose himself has you sucking his fingers into your mouth in an instant. Hollowing your cheeks, you trap him in the slick pressure chamber between your cheeks and your tongue. His jaw hangs open as he watches you slowly glide them in and out of your mouth.

An uneven breath hitches in his throat. “Don’t be a tease,” he pleads.

You pause, chest burning as his eyes bore into yours. His fingers coast out of your mouth with a gross popping sound and you kiss the tips of them before speaking, “Then don’t be a brat.”

Pulling the blanket over his shoulders, he wraps an arm around your neck, the weight of his body pressing you back. The distance between you quickly fills with muffled moans and the wet smack of your lips hungrily sliding against one another.

“I want to feel you,” he murmurs between open-mouth kisses, fingers diving under your sweatshirt and slowly working the material up your stomach.

“Me too,” you say, brain short-circuiting as his mouth licks a hot stripe down your neck. “I mean, I want you to feel me too. Not that I don’t want to feel you. I want to feel you. A lot.”

He smiles against your skin. The fabric of your sweatshirt bunches up just below your breasts and he pauses, waiting for a possible objection. “Do you want me to keep going?”

“Please,” you breathe, already wiggling your arms out of the sleeves. Between the chill of the air and Jimin’s sharp inhale, your nipples grow rigid. You’re pretty sure they’re hard enough to cut glass. His eyes roam your chest, drinking in the sight of your beauty just as you finish dragging the sweater over your head. He forces himself to tear his eyes from the sight of your pebbled nipples heaving up and down with each shallow breath your lungs take in.

Blinking a few times, he drags his eyes up and giggles when he sees the static in your hair.

You recoil and quickly criss-cross your arms to cover your chest, mistakenly believing he’s mocking your body. You think you’d be used to people laughing at you by now, but it still catches you off guard. It’s like a swift punch to the gut when you consider your foolish optimism. Armed with knowledge of the meaning behind his tattoo, you truly hoped Jimin could see past the years you spent ripping yourself apart in attempts to please others.

It’s been tough, but you’ve been able to pick up the pieces of your shattered self-esteem since moving away from the city. Leaving behind the hate and negativity binding you back to that world seemed impossible at the time, but you’ve made such progress, such strides away from all that. You’d like to think you possess a resilience, a hard shell that protects you from cruel people now, but it turns out you’re just as soft and vulnerable as ever.

It’s been years of tying ribbons decorated with hope and cheerfulness over the despondency branded into your core. And it feels like everything you’ve worked so hard to become unravels in an instant. You feel like melting into a puddle of tears. You feel like an idiot.

“Are you okay?” His smile falters and the laughter previously ringing throughout the room dies on the tip of his tongue. Anxiety drenches his face as he looks upon you, his stomach flip-flopping with the concerns building in his throat.

“Sorry,” you apologize, unable to hide your shame for not living up to whatever expectations he might have had. Still, you cling to the shred of dignity that remains lodged in the back of your mind. “I know I’m not… Like… The best looking, but it was kind of mean to laugh.”

“Oh…. Oh no… Y/N, I wasn’t laughing at… I would never… I was laughing because of this…” He drops his finger to your nose and you’re shocked by sharp a jolt of electricity. He makes a big gesture around his head to try and explain. “Your hair was fluffy. It was cute.”

He does his best to hide the tremble of his fingers as they brush the hair from your eyes and slowly trace jagged lines down your body. “I think you’re beautiful. And I will never. Ever. Be cruel to you. I will never hurt you.”

“Promise?” you ask, feeling foolish for falling apart so easily under a false assumption.

“I promise,” he insists, innocently brushing his lips against yours.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into both a deeper kiss and embrace. The cold sting of the metal studs at his nipples gives you goosebumps, but the skin-to-skin contact has you moaning into him and craving more. Your tongue plunges into his mouth and he responds with an enthusiastic grind of his hips.

“Fuck,” you pant, already not-so-subtly yanking the fabric of your leggings down.

“Let me help you,” he offers.

Your hands, which have been trying to work the material down your hips without lifting your ass, abandon their efforts in favor of groping the small of his back and lightly massaging the back of his neck. He smiles sweetly, lifting himself up enough to trail a hand down between the two of you, letting it take a detour along the curve of your breasts as it goes. When it finally meets the fabric still gathered just above your sex, he pauses and then dives his fingers below the material instead.

You gasp as he rubs his fingers along your folds, seeking access to the prize hidden beneath. The slick, sticky coating now drenching every bit of your cunt allows him to glide through almost too easily. Suddenly he’s rubbing small, quick circles against your slippery clit and your can’t help but throw your head back against the floor. Lucky for you the carpet softens the blow.

“Does it feel good?” he asks with a pleased hum as his lips close around a pebbled nipple and swathes his tongue over it.

Your head lolls from side to side as you massage your fingertips into the base of his scalp. “So fucking good, Jimin.”

He moans at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue, deciding it’s time to rub your clit with his thumb instead so he can dip his fingers inside you. His knuckles rub against the damp fabric of your leggings as he teases your obscenely wet entrance with a finger. Quickly deciding two is far better than one, he plunges them inside your dripping cunt while keeping a steady pressure on your clit.

You gasp, squeezing your eyes shut as he curls his fingers up to experience the contraction of your walls before he starts languidly pumping those delicate digits in and out of you. Digging into his back with your fingernails and knotting your other hand in his hair, you cry out a sound that makes his cock twitch against his belly.

He drags your nipple through his teeth as he pulls back, watching the jiggle that ripples through your breast before turning his head to rest on it. Suddenly his fingers disappear from your cunt and your walls spasm, weeping at the loss.

“So wet…” he whispers, sliding all of his fingers along your folds and gathering as much of you as he can.

You’re so fucking embarrassed. You’re not just wet, you’re salaciously wet, like a goddamn waterfall of pussy juice. Just as you’re about to apologize, he drags a wet, sticky trail up your belly with fingertips that have been drowned in your essence. You lose the will to speak as he looks up from his resting place on your tits.

“Is this all for me?” he inquires with a face of stone, eyelids half-closed as he spreads his fingers apart to let you see the glistening trails connecting them.

You manage to squeak out a pitiful, “I’m so sorry!”

Why you’re acting like you’ve physically harmed him in some way has him beyond puzzled. “Sorry? But, why?” He blinks, furrowing his brow. “I’ve never had someone this wet for me…. From now on…” he shyly trails off, bringing his fingers to his kiss-swollen lips and flicking his tongue across each one. His voice drops an octave. “I’ll be thinking about this every time I cum.”

With that he dips one into his mouth, eyes fixed on yours. You can’t look away, can’t even blink when he moans, eyelids fluttering as he deeply inhales your scent. “Delicious….”

You watch, speechless as he takes turns plugging his fingers into his mouth until he’s licked them all clean. “You taste sweeter than I imagined, Snow.”

When you don’t react, and stare at him like a terrified deer in headlights, he leans forward and hovers above your mouth. “You okay?”

Smelling yourself on his breath, your eyes close and you pull him into a deep kiss. He already tastes so fucking good. But he tastes heavenly when he’s wearing you on his tongue. “You’re... ” You try to shake the stupor out of your eyes, but you’re so smitten. “Amazing.”

He grins, pressing his lips to your cheek, then your neck, then your collarbone. He swipes his tongue across an area that makes you tense and he decides to revisit it, sucking a red mark of revenge into your flesh.

“I want you so fucking bad. Please, Jimin,” you whimper his name like he’ll take pity on you and climb back up your body to give you another taste of his mouth dripping with your juices.

Instead, your fingernails claw channels into his back as he forgoes the spot at your neck. He descends, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses on every bit of exposed skin he can around both of your tits. “I want...” He laps the sticky trail he previously made with his fingers, following the path from your nipple down to your waist. “To make…” His tongue makes a lazy circle around your belly button before coasting down to the band of your leggings. “You cum for me.”

Your walls try to clamp down on something, anything, but there’s nothing inside your cunt to satisfy the craving driving you mad. You don’t have time to ruminate on this because he’s already yanking your leggings down your thighs, pulling them off and tossing them across the room. Your first instinct is to lock your thighs together to hide yourself from his gaze, but his palms catch your ankles as he moves to slot himself between your legs.

“Finally,” he breathes, running his hands up the inside of your calves, past your knees, slowing when he reaches your thighs. “Can I...?”

He seeks your approval, but you’re already throbbing with need, nodding and biting your lip to keep yourself from screaming yes. “Please, Jimin. Please.”

You tense as he presses his palms into both of your thighs, spreading you wide so he can see your glistening pussy. “Beautiful.”

Your cheeks are on fire, but you don’t have time to dwell on that either because Jimin is diving his tongue into your cunt like a man starved, lapping up your juices with a shameless slurping sound. And it feels like you’ve reached fucking nirvana.

“Oh fuck,” you cry out, tone laced with whiny need. All you can do is twist your fingers around strands of his hair as your head slams back against the floor. If it weren’t for this carpet, you’d probably have a concussion by now.

The more you whimper, the harder he pushes his jaw into you, swiping his tongue into the entrance of your cunt and collecting as much of your sweetness as he can. He flicks his tongue in messy circles along your labia, taking his time as he works his way up to that sensitive bundle of nerves above.

You swear that he must have some sort of supernatural gift for eating pussy because you can already feel the orgasm building in your gut. You flex the muscles of your stomach, trying to will yourself to hold on just a little longer. Clenching your jaw, you tighten your grip in his hair and swallow hard. He groans against you as you tug at his golden locks, sending soft vibrations straight to your core.

The forgotten movie continues playing nearby, but all you can hear are the deep inhales he's taking through his nose as he keeps is mouth clamped down over your clit. The wet squelching of his tongue mixing saliva with your own bodily fluids should be grossing you out, but it fills you with a new wave of desire that pushes you closer to the edge. You've only ever gotten close this fast when you're alone. How much of his soul did he have to sell for this sinful ability?

You moan his name again as you slide one hand to your tit, groping and pinching your freezing nipple in multiple directions. He lifts his mouth to hungrily gasp for air while continuing to sweep his tongue over your vulva. When he catches the movement of your hand tweaking your nipple, he groans and passionately moves his lips over your clit like he's trying to make out with it. Your eyes roll back and you whine loudly as he pulls himself off you long enough to speak.

"You taste so good, " he whispers, sounding out of breath, like he might have been suffocating himself in your cunt for fun. "Does it feel good?"

He brushes his fingertips over your swollen clit, knowing damn well you're pulsing with need. You prop yourself up on your elbows and look down at him. He cocks his head to the side, allowing his hair to fall across his face, waiting for you to answer.

You answer with a roll of your hips, trying to increase the pressure of his fingers on your bud by wrapping your legs around his back. He obliges your need for a moment, basking in the feel of your body desperately grinding onto his fingers, but he pulls them back and tuts at you with a sweet smile on his face. It's subtle but Jimin can feel it: the tremble of your thighs.

No matter how much you try to hide it, he knows. You're already so close that you're literally shaking. Will you beg me, Snow?

His eyes settle on yours as he slowly moves his fingertips back to your clit, only granting featherlight touches until you answer his question. When you push your hips back down for more, he moves his hand away again, grinning like a madman at the frustration staining your features.

Maybe you forgot what he asked. Raising his eyebrows, he trails his fingers up and down your thighs in teasing repetitions, always retracting them the moment he starts to give you what you want. "Tell me it feels good."

"You know it feels good," you whimper as his thumb swipes over your entrance.

"How good?" He stills, hovering his fingers over your clit. You can feel him teasing faint circles over it, denying you any sort of pressure until you answer.

"So fucking good."

He licks his lips, and spreads your folds open with his fingers. "Tell me how much you want me."

"I want you so fucking bad. I can't think about anything else. Please, baby."

A mischievous grin spreads across his face. "Baby…" he parrots back in a whiny voice, mocking you while kissing a line down your inner thigh. He swipes his tongue slowly up your entrance, quickly licking your clit like it's his new favorite flavor of lollipop.

"Jimin, please," you protest, throwing your head back so you don't have to look at him.

"What?" He slows his pace, kissing your swollen bud and rolling it against his tongue, pausing to whisper into you. "Tell me, baby."

With all mockery removed from his tone, the innocent word sounds absolutely sinful falling from his lips. If you're being honest, you never want him to stop saying it.

"You're evil," you breathe. "Please, don't stop."

You squeeze your thighs around his head as he massages his tongue against a particularly sensitive spot.

"Ah…! There! Right fucking there!" Your elbows ache as you try to stay propped up to keep your view of his beautiful face buried in you. "Jimin… Jimin, you're gonna make me cum."

Dark eyes peer up at you, sucking your labia through puckered lips before pausing to pant against you. "I know… Will you touch your pretty body for me, baby?"

Your thighs twitch at the request. He takes the opportunity to slide a finger inside your cunt while he tongues your clit. You lean back even further, mouth silently hanging open like you're about to start wailing. Instead you grab at your breast like it's your lifeline, catching your nipple between shaky fingers. Finally you give up on watching and throw your head back, resting it on the floor and running your fingers through your hair to keep from shoving his head down.

The quiver in your thighs grows stronger and you find yourself involuntarily bouncing to fight the sensitivity mixed in with pleasure. He clamps a hand on your hip to try to keep you from bucking him off the wonderful spot he's found. You clench around his fingers, aching for his return when he lifts his mouth from your clit.

"Look at me," he pleads, reaching his thumb up to tease the place he's left covered in spit.

You struggle to perch yourself on your hands, running on pure adrenaline from the most intense edging of your life. Fingernails dig into the carpet on either side of you, arms shaking like they're made of jello. "Jimin… I can't. Not when you're looking at me like that."

He cocks his head to the side curiously. "I'm not sure what you mean?"

You beg, not as a "please," or "come on," but his name expressed as a hopeless sigh; it sounds criminal when you say it like that.

He cracks a smile. "Let me help you."

He slides the hand currently at your hip around your side and presses against the curve of your back. Slipping his fingers from your cunt, he shoves them into your mouth and forces you to bend forward and watch as he descends to replace them.

"See how good you taste?" He whispers it like it's some forbidden secret he's chosen to share. Not giving you a chance to respond, he works his tongue along every delicate fold he can, savoring the tremor of your form as he turns his attention to that wonderful spot he found earlier.

Release is closing in fast as he batters his tongue against your clit. You mindlessly suck your taste from his fingers, letting a culmination of saliva and your own juices seethe from the corners of your mouth to coat your chest in a messy drizzle.

"Fuuuck," you whimper, bobbing your head over them like they're the cock you're craving. The pleasure between your legs is all-consuming, causing your eyes to water as you clench them shut. You feel your orgasm cresting with each quick swipe of his tongue. You force your eyes back open, fearing he might stop and tease you again if you don't.

"Ahhhhm," you moan as his fingers tug your jaw down and you grind your clit hard against the velvety smooth comfort of his lips. "Gonna cum."

Keeping his dark, hungry eyes locked on yours, he releases a groan that vibrates into your core. Your hips stutter against him and suddenly tense. The only form of movement your body offers is the violent tremor deep in your core as you give in to the crashing waves of your orgasm.

Your sharp intake of breath and heavy, spit-soaked moan is almost enough to make him cum on the spot. The quick battering of his tongue never falters and he lets you ride out the high until your body can process movement again. Aftershocks wrack your core until you're bucking your hips in an attempt to free yourself from the overstimulation.

He considers standing his ground to try and give you another, but he climbs up your body instead. Your arms wobble as he presses himself against you, lips and chin glistening in the low light. Despite the sweat running down his forehead, he shivers when you run your tongue over his lips to commit to memory how good he tastes when he's wearing you.

You reach down, palming his length through his pants, feeling the leaking tip poking out the band at his waist. "I want to make you feel good. Please let me make you cum."

He takes in a ragged breath against your kiss, "I'll be right back."

Before you can process the words, he's gone, leaving you as a panting mess on the floor. The heater sends a flow of hot air towards you but you can still feel the cold nipping at your sweaty skin.

Jimin practically sprints back to you, tearing the condom wrapper open with his teeth. When he sees you lying naked on his floor, he pauses to take in the sight. This better not be a really vivid dream.

You look up and he's looking back at you, smiling in a way that melts the chill off every part of your body. You grin like a smitten fool, unable to focus on anything but his kind eyes, even as he's tugging his sweatpants off and rolling the condom down his shaft.

By the time you realize you have a chance to look at his dick and commit the sight to memory, he's already slotted himself between your legs. He pulls the forgotten blanket over his back and lets the weight of his chest come down on yours.

He brushes the hair from your forehead as you wrap your arms around his form in an intimate embrace. He studies your face a moment, wondering if it's too soon to tell you how much he cares about you. It's the little things over the months he's fallen for, small pieces of you that have burrowed into his heart to build a larger, stronger form of affection. This feeling is more than just a shallow attraction, but will bringing that up make you run away?

It's worth the risk. If you don't feel the same, then he can't bear to have you like this even if his body is screaming for it. It can't be meaningless. Not with you.

He offers a gentle kiss, fingers trembling as they cup your chin. He lets the whisper rest against the surface of your lips. "I love you."

Your heart skips a beat and you hug your arms tighter around him. Love is a strong word. Especially for you. Growing up, you experienced what two people called love for the sake of outward appearances, but it was really only a mask they wore to conceal their hatred of each other. How can you say you love him when you don't even know what real love is like?

He waits for the response buried in your throat, trepidation taking hold of every thought outlining the possibility of reciprocation and twisting it into a mental lashing. Has his sensitivity on this matter really messed it all up? His eyes flicker between yours, pursing his lips and holding back a sigh when the answer doesn't come. He can’t tell what you’re thinking but heaven knows he’s trying to nurture the power of telepathy right now.

You know he wants the truth, whatever it may be. You swallow, chest tight as you try to form the words. You think of the kindness shown by others in your life, all the good experiences mixed in with all the shit life has thrown in your face. Jimin falls into the extremely good category, like the "I didn't know I could feel this good" category. You can't imagine a day going by that you don't talk to him. You don't want to.

"I don't have a good example of love-love to go by," you begin, watching him try to hide the disappointment in his face. "But I'd like to think this is what it's supposed to be."

Tears sting your eyes. Vulnerability is hard, but you're willing to take a chance on him and he realizes how big that is for you. Salty sweet tears of relief run down his cheeks as he kisses away your shared insecurities.

He could spend forever tangled in your embrace, innocently kissing away your worries and fears. Your fingers drag their way through his hair and you rut your hips into him, grinding your pelvises together. Being this intimate is new and exciting, but it's leaving you too vulnerable and is becoming an increasingly prominent source of anxiety.

Gripping the edges of the blanket at his back, you pull it across his shoulder blades as though it will cover the goosebumps speckling your chest. "Mmm. Please don’t make me wait any longer.”

He steadies himself on his elbows, fingers dancing with strands of your hair against the carpet. He rolls his hips against you a few times with a smile, letting his dick slide against your soaked, sensitive clit before lifting back and lining himself up properly.

“Tell me you want me,” he whimpers, the tip of his cock teasing your entrance with shallow taps. You try to lure him in by contracting the muscles in your pussy touching the head, hoping the feeling is enough rather than words. You’re having a hard time with those right now.

“Aaah…” he moans, dipping his head to your neck a moment. “You really are impatient.”

Slowly, he glides himself in about an inch, feeling you tense at the intrusion. The stretch makes you breathe a moan into his ear, causing him to snap his head back up to make eye contact with you. His chest is heaving as he waits, trying to give you time to adjust without blowing his load immediately. The way you’re trying to torture him by squeezing your walls around him is not making things easy.

“More, please,” you sigh, gripping the thick meat of his ass and pulling him towards you. “I want you.”

Finally, he gives in to the pleasure. His eyes roll into the back of his head as he bottoms out in one smooth motion. You squeak a brief sound of satisfaction, enjoying the dark hunger blazing in his eyes when they focus back on your face. He tries to reel the self-control back in, dragging his cock out at a leisurely pace before slowly working it back in. The last thing he wants is to hurt you, for this to be an unpleasant experience. But god. You feel so good. Too good.

“I always want you,” you breathe, hooking your legs around his waist and rolling your hips up to meet his as they come back down.

It’s difficult to think when you’re such a gorgeous mess beneath him. With your eyebrows knitting together, jaw hanging open, an apologetic look in your eyes as your hand shoots up to grip the back of his neck for better leverage to thrust yourself back up at him: you’re the epitome of perfection. His pace quickens with a spike of adrenaline surging through his veins. Soon his mouth hangs open, mirroring yours as he’s overwhelmed with the sensation of your tight, wet hole squeezing his cock like it’s the only place it’s ever needed to belong.

“J-Jimin,” you whine, looking down to catch the way your own tits press together, bouncing in unison with your writhing bodies. You try to see past your tits, hoping to catch a glimpse of his length disappearing inside of you, but the shadows cast by the blanket make it hard to see much of anything. So you drag your eyes back up to meet his, absolutely destroyed by the wonder painted all over his features. He’s looking at you like you’re the most perfect human he’s ever seen.

Because you are.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, bringing his open mouth down over yours.

With your tongues duking it out with each other, he pistons his cock into you with a vigor unlike anything you’ve experienced in your life. The squelching of your pussy while being mercilessly pounded is background noise to the sound of his balls slapping against your ass. You groan a garbled sound into his mouth, trying to remember how to breathe and process pleasure at the same time.

He moves to your neck, latching onto a sensitive spot immediately. This combined with the weight of him pressing down on your chest has you heaving, exposing more of your neck for him to explore. Your sweaty bodies slide against each other and you roam your fingers through his damp hair, savoring the feel of his tongue gliding up and down your neck until he settles on a place that makes you curl your fingers around those strawberry blonde locks.

You never thought you’d feel safe like this, and yet here you are. You’re about to lose yourself in the emotional implications of your progress when he slips right out and thrusts up against your clit, immediately apologizing. You cry out at the loss, wishing he could fill you up all day every day for the rest of your life. Because without him you feel so empty.

He chuckles nervously. “Slippery… Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

You smile, placing a small kiss on his lips. “I’m fine. But I think you’re working too hard. Why don’t you relax?”

You place a hand on his chest, facilitating the switch in your positions. Jimin rolls flat on his back with a grin, blanket trapped beneath him. There’s nothing to hide behind now. You finally take in the sight of his cock standing at attention, its beautiful girthy form being suffocated within the cream-covered condom. It’s a perfect size. Not too big. Not too small. Most of all it’s wide enough to fill you up, and so fucking delicious-looking. You could pop the condom off and take him into your mouth right now. He must see the thought cross your mind as you lick your lips because he grabs your wrists and guides you up to meet his face.

“Come back to me. Your Prince Charming would like to kiss you,” he coaxes in a cloyingly sweet tone. “There will be time to kiss me elsewhere later.”

“Oh, you’re my Prince Charming?” You can’t help but smile. He makes your heart swell with joy, even when he’s being a brat. “How long have you been holding onto that one?”

“Since the day I decided you were Snow White,” he says breathlessly.

“I told you that animals don’t actually like me as much as you think they do. Birds poop on me all the time.”

“And I told you Granny says that’s good luck.” He presses his lips to your cheek and grabs your waist. “I just wanted to sweep you off your feet,” he sheepishly admits, eyes darting away for a moment.

You straddle his waist, aligning yourself with his cock. “And tell me, what do you want now?”

“I want…” His eyes glaze over as he feels you sink down, grunting a weak “please” when you’re flush with his pelvis, unmoving. His hands link themselves with yours as you lean over him. Instead of looking anywhere else or trying to get you to move your hips, he stills and looks deep into your eyes. “I want to be your happily ever after, my lovely princess.”

His words catch you off guard and tears begin falling with your stunned blinks. He’s always looked at you like a princess, hasn’t he? It doesn’t matter how screwed up you may feel, or even how screwed up you actually are. He loves you. He cares for you. And he wants you to see what he sees so badly that he will point the mirror on the wall towards you every day until you see that you truly are the fairest of them all.

“Please don’t cry,” he says, wiping the tears from your cheeks. There are already tears forming in his eyes too. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I am,” you smile, lowering yourself to press your chests together. His arms wrap around you, offering comforting strokes with his fingertips against your back. His cock is still buried in your pussy and it’s distracting. He would love nothing more than to thrust up into you and spill himself in your guts.

“Tell me you love me,” you beg in a hushed whisper, kissing him like he’s the only form of oxygen you’re going to get for the rest of the night.

“I love you,” he whispers back between greedy, sloppy kisses.

You roll your hips, granting the movement he’s been craving as you slowly bounce on his cock. When he groans you clench around him and pick up your pace, hoping that you’re not as sloppy as you feel. Between the tears and the emotions swirling in your chest, your hips are a stuttering mess. If you are being a terrible top, he doesn’t say anything. He rocks himself with your slow, fucked out pace, hitting a heavenly spot inside you with each pivot your hips make to meet his again.

“I love you,” he repeats into the air as you lean back and steady yourself by placing your palms on his chest. He squeezes his eyes shut as you begin a new, rapid tempo that threatens to make him cum in seconds. He slurs out a whine of incoherent sounds, indicating you’re bringing him closer to the edge of release.

The shy, proud grin spreads across your face like wildfire as you watch him physically struggle to compose himself. “Got a big load for me, Charming? Or is it reasonably-sized?”

His face is flush and those big black pupils are dilated so wide you can’t tell them apart from the irises anymore. He wants to tell you to slow down so he can drag this out some more, but his climax is racing the words trapped in his throat. He grabs your hands and pulls you down close to him so he can kiss you again and again.

“Y/N… Ah…. I can’t....” He’s sucking air through clenched teeth between kisses, trying his best to push back the tightness in his balls.

“It’s okay, Jimin. Let go. Cum for me.”

With that he quickly wraps his arms around your waist, digging his fingernails into your sides as he takes control from beneath you, fucking you hard and fast as he chases his release. Your body shakes as he relentlessly thrusts those sinful hips upwards in quick, powerful strokes, holding you in a tight embrace like you might float away if he loosens his grip. You moan into each other’s mouths, the muffled sounds mingling as you crash your tongues against one another.

“I love you,” he whispers again, desperately this time.

“I love you too,” you respond breathlessly, doing your best to keep up with the insane tempo he’s set.

“Oh,” he quickly gasps, unable to fight the curse on the tip of his tongue. “Baby… Fuck... I’m cumming.”

The rhythm of his thrusts somehow increases in speed and you’re relieved to hear him gasp out the affirmation of his release. A small part of you is worried you won’t be able to take much more, even though you really want to; it’s been some time since anything has been between your legs that didn’t run on batteries. This is so much better.

Needy moans spill into your mouth with your name on repeat between breaths. He pumps himself into you with one last burst of power. Once. Twice. Three times. His hips shake beneath yours and fall limp against the floor as he chews on your bottom lip. Jimin cumming is hottest fucking thing you’ve ever experienced in your life and tonight you’ve heard it twice.

He allows your lip to snap back to you and plants a kiss on your forehead before rolling you over onto your back and slipping himself from inside of you. “Will you stay here tonight?”

You nod with a tired smile. “If you still want me.”

“I always want you,” he whispers with a shy kiss to your cheek. “The bed’s a bit more comfortable though.”

“I really didn’t mean to say it,” Jeongguk whines, face buried in his hands as he sits on Jimin’s couch.

Jimin puffs his cheeks, sparing a glance at the clock on his phone. He made plans to watch a movie with you once you got home from work. And by watch a movie, he means to disregard the movie as background noise and fuck you senseless. What he didn’t plan on was his friend stopping by for an impromptu therapy session; it happens often enough that he usually is prepared for such an event. But there’s only been one thing on his mind for the past week, and it’s been bent over every surface in this apartment every day the moment you get home. He’s eager to keep that streak going.

You’ll be home soon and Jeongguk doesn’t show any signs of leaving. Jimin decides to text you, letting you know the door is still unlocked, but he has company so don’t come running in while tearing your shirt off unless you want to entertain them both. He smiles when he hits send, eager for a response. It’s at this moment Jeongguk looks up at his friend, realizing he’s enamored with his phone.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Jeongguk looks crushed, sinking back into the cushion and rubbing his thumbs over the yellow plush dog Yoongi had constructed for Jimin at work. Its silky fur is comforting to Jeongguk, but not enough to soothe the ache in his heart. He fucked things up with this new teacher and he really doesn’t know how to smooth things over. Where does he even begin?

“I’m sorry,” Jimin says, quickly pocketing his phone and making sure Jeongguk knows he has his full attention. He places a hand on his knee and squeezes. “It’s okay. Just apologize to her.”

"How can I do that when every time I talk to her I can't even think straight? I mess up everything that I do when she's around," he groans, clearly resigned to his own hopelessness.

"How can you possibly mess up two words?" Jimin asks, quirking an eyebrow at his friend. He reaches for Jeongguk's jaw and begins practicing ventriloquy as he opens and closes it in time with his advice. "I'm. Sorry."

Jeongguk playfully slaps his hand away, "It's not that easy and you know it." He sighs heavily. “Besides. You know me. I already messed up an apology. ”

The smile falls from Jimin’s face. “What happened now? Don’t tell me it’s worse than the balls conversation.”

Jeongguk tents his fingers on either side of his temples and inhales deeply. On exhale he screeches, memory replaying his most recent mistake one more time.

“...That bad, huh?” He frowns, crossing the room to get him a beverage.

Jeongguk runs his fingers through his hair a few times before he snatches the banana milk from Jimin. He’s just gotta focus on something else. Anything else. He starts chugging the bottle, milk spilling from the corners of his mouth.

“Hey, slow down. I’m gonna be sick if you throw that stuff up.”

Jimin reaches for the small, plastic jug but it’s already empty by the time Jeongguk allows him to take it.

Jeongguk whimpers, “Not even banana milk can fix this.”

“Jeongguk. Tell me what happened.” It’s rare that Jimin ever gets stern with any of his friends, but sometimes they have a habit of getting in their own heads. He can pull them out by telling them what they need to hear, even if it isn’t always nice. He’s got a nagging feeling in his gut that this might be one of those times.

His friend leans back into the couch with palms pressed against his forehead. “I whipped a tennis ball across the court, but it fucking went out the door to the hall and hit her while she was walking by.”

“It was an accident!” Jimin insists.

“I know! But she! Doesn’t!” He pounds his hands into his forehead like it can knock the memory from his brain.

“Why not?” Jimin asks, suddenly suspicious. “What did you do when you realized you’d thrown something at someone? You apologized, right? Right?”

Jeongguk grits his teeth a subdued screech in his throat. “I ran over when I heard her scream and I was panicking so I just! I said ‘I’m so fucking sorry!’”

“That’s good--”

“And ‘Are you okay?!’”

“Sounds like you did fine---”

“But my brain couldn’t decide which one to say first so it merged them together! And I screamed at her!”

“Oh no.”

“Are you fucking sorry?! I screamed it Jimin. Are you fucking sorry! All of my students standing there watching me have a mental breakdown when she’s the one hurt.”

He’s practically in tears, damn near hysterical. Jimin offers a sympathetic grimace before going in for a big, comforting hug.

“Jeonggukie, it’s okay.”

“Not it’s not! I can never face her again. I can never face my students again. I’ve never been more embarrassed in my life.”

Jimin squeezes him tighter. “You’ll get through this though. You know how I know?”

“How?” The words are muffled when spoken into the crook of his neck.

Jeongguk has buried himself dangerously close to the spots you’ve been claiming for yourself. He hopes his friend doesn’t notice the red bruises you’ve left behind.

“Because. I can think of a million other things that you’ve done that are way more embarrassing than this. And you’ve lived through them all. If anything your students will see you as someone they can relate to.”

“And Frizzle?”

“You have to do something genuinely nice for her and express your sincerest apologies. Take her somewhere nice for dinner. Admit you screwed up and you want to make things better. Explain how your life is a chain of embarrassing experiences. Tell her some stories of your other fails so she doesn’t think you’re being cruel. If you can’t think of any, I can make you a list. I really do remember things you’ve done that are worse than this, you know. ”

“No! No. I guarantee I’ve blocked them out for a reason.” The black-haired man sighs. He seems to at least be comforted by the thought that the situation isn’t totally unsalvageable. He stands with a lopsided smile. “Thanks, Jiminie. I love you.”

Jimin’s mouth curls into a smile as he goes in for one more hug. “You never forget to pay me, Jeonggukie.”

Jeongguk steps across the threshold and is greeted by the very woman he’s been complaining to Jimin about for the better part of an hour. Every muscle in his body tenses and freezes in place. She’s just come out of the apartment next door. Jimin cocks his head at his friend, curiously watching the blatant change in body language.

“What is she doing here?” Jeongguk hisses at Jimin like the woman isn’t standing close enough to hear.

“Of course you’d be here. Don’t worry, Mr. Jeon, I’m on my way out, unless you’ve got something else to pile on to my hazing?”

Jeongguk clamps his mouth shut and tries to move out of her way, but she moves in the same direction. Both of them immediately try to go around, mirroring each other’s actions. This must be her. Jimin rubs his temple as he watches the awkward dance Jeongguk and “Frizzle” do as she tries to move past him. For a tall, muscular guy, Jeongguk seems to shrivel in stature the longer he stands there looking at her, stuttering out half of an apology before finally gripping her shoulders like he’s going to pick her up.

“Please let me go,” he murmurs, swallowing hard, despite the fact that he’s the one with his hands on her.

Jimin runs his fingers down his cheeks like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Jeongguk’s aloof nature seems to have been amplified tenfold by the presence of this woman, which is an impressive feat. He’s got it so bad for this girl he really can’t think straight.

Jeongguk takes a deep breath and books it down the hallway, forgetting about his friend entirely. He gets to the stairwell and hunches over the bannister to screech like a pterodactyl, hoping to release some of the anguish tearing at his chest. He sighs, composing himself as he ascends the steps, patting his pockets for the comfort of escape. His heart drops. That familiar jingle of keychains and metal is missing. “My keeeeeeys!”

It’s then he realizes he’s going to have to walk back past you in shame to collect the missing item from Jimin’s apartment. Jimin wishes he could undo all of the secondhand embarrassment he just experienced. Being that this will be burned into his memory for some time, he slinks into your apartment for a healthy dose of distraction.

The scent of cinnamon and vanilla hang in the air. You've been baking to keep yourself busy. You thought about asking your guild if anyone wanted to play online for a bit, but you really weren't in the mood for video games. You knew what to expect and yet you still find yourself disappointed by the lack of Holiday cards and letters.

Even if they don't give a shit about you, you still find your heart breaking, wishing you could know if your parents are doing okay. Maybe they're finally getting better. Maybe they're finally getting that divorce they desperately need. You whisk the batter, losing yourself in a sea of possibilities, regardless of whether it matters in the first place.

Then again, maybe they're doing better now that they don't have you around to use as a point of contention. They could be happy now that the supposed source of their misery is absent from their life. Your jaw tightens along with your grip on the mixing bowl cradled in your arms.

They probably don't think about you at all. How many times had you walked back from school alone in the dark because they forgot to pick you up? How many times had they straight up forgot you existed? They don't care. They don't even think about you. In fact, they're probably so drunk mom is passed out on the couch and dad is in a similar position in his office with a bottle of scotch and a nub of a burnt out cigarette hanging from his mouth.

You're mixing quickly, scraping loudly against the ceramic bowl in an attempt to drown out the anger in your head. It might not be enough to cover your incessant thoughts but it sure as hell camouflages Jimin's approach.

You bite your lip, white hot tears stinging the corners of your eyes. It's stupid. Why do you care so much when they obviously don't? You feel manic having the day off of work. There's too much time to think now that you don't have your customers to dote on and care for. You don't realize how slippery your fingers are now that they’re coated in a layer of sweat. The bowl slips from your hands and shatters against the floor, coating your floor and feet in a pasty splatter of dough.

“Are you okay?” Jimin asks, scooping his arms around your waist and dragging you away from the mess.

You nearly jump out of your skin when you feel his embrace pulling your backwards, voice vibrating in your ear. You stumble backwards, losing traction over the spilled batter. He’s careful to get you away from the shards of glass littering the kitchen tile as you fall.

“I thought you had work to do,” you say, embarrassed by your lack of finesse.

“I finished up early. I… knocked but you didn’t answer,” he replies, taking a moment to inspect your face.

The mixture intended for cookies haphazardly sprinkles your cheeks and your eyes are still glossy from the tears gathered in them moments ago.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, concern dripping from the two simple words.

You hate making him worry so you force a counterfeit smile to split your lips. “Nothing!”

“I can tell you’re lying,” he insists, wiping your face with his fingers. “It’s okay. You can talk to me.”

You hang your head low and press into his shoulder. “I was just thinking about my family. Please. It’s not important.” Another phony smile adorns your features as you look up at him. “But I’d like it very much if you could take my mind off it.”

He offers a warm smile and decides not to press further. He knows enough of your past to know you’d rather not speak on it unless you’re the one offering information. Despite the curiosity nagging at the corners of his mind, he plants a kiss on your lips instead. “Any requests?”

“Take me away from my own brain.”

He giggles, ready to make you forget every word you’ve ever learned that’s not his name, but he pauses, briefly recalling the reason he stopped by in the first place. “Oh wait. I wanted to ask you about that.”

You half-laugh, half-scoff. “It’s okay. I’ve accepted there’s no escape.”

Jimin shakes his head at you. “No, I mean would you like to get away from here for the night? My friends and I go to Taehyung’s parents’ cabin every year on New Years Eve. It’s like a little tradition.”

You blink at him. “Oh you mean Mr. Kim--er,” you correct yourself when he cringes. “Tannie’s dad? Wouldn’t it be weird if I showed up? I don’t want to intrude… And I would feel so awkward not knowing any of your friends.”

“They’re all really laid back. They’re like an extended family. Let me tell you about them,” he suggests, twining his fingers in yours and waving your hands around. “The drive to the cabin takes a couple hours. That’s plenty of time to give you a history lesson.”

“I don’t know…”

“You know,” he begins, swiping his batter-coated finger with his tongue. “Granny says it’s good luck when you kiss someone you love on New Year’s Eve at midnight.”

You roll your eyes, fighting the cheesy grin you feel coming on. “Is that so?”

He nods enthusiastically, sparing a glance at the shards of glass and spilled batter scattered across your kitchen floor. “Besides, what better way to keep your mind off of... everything?”

The man can be subtle when he wants to be, but you still follow his line of sight to the mess creeping down the slight slope in the tile.

“I have to sweep this up,” you mumble, ignoring giving him a finite answer as you cross the room to gather cleaning supplies.

There’s a protest caught in his throat that dies the moment you bend over to search for the dustpan in the closet. He saunters over, licking his lips and letting his fingers dig into the soft flesh at your hips. Your eyes go wide as his length presses against your ass, already half hard. He offers a playful thrust as a joke, but if you drop your pants then the joke part of that thrust is totally cancelled. You sigh loudly and arch your back, slowly rising to looking over your shoulder at him. He swears time stops for a moment as half-lidded eyes chant his name without you saying a word.

“I really have to clean this up. It’s wet. The-The spot on the floor is wet.” You stumble over raspy and frantic words, all the moisture missing from your mouth. He tests your resolve by sneaking a finger below the band of your jeans, skirting his digits just outside of your underwear before pressing the silky fabric into your clit. With just a few slow circles, he has you moaning and weakly leaning back against him for support.

“You’re right. It’s a little wet. I should help you clean this up, don’t you think?” His breath is hot against your neck as he dips his hand lower, sneaking along your pantyline before pushing the barrier aside to dive in your cunt without warning.

You’re practically melting as he pumps his fingers into you, tongue dragging over your neck in a teasing swipe. It takes all of your willpower, but you grip his forearm with a groan. “You’re evil.”

“I’m Charming,” he insists with a grin, complying with your unspoken request to abandon his endeavors.

“I need to clean this before it gets in every last crack.”

Jimin opens his mouth to say something crass but gets distracted by your smiley kiss.

“We’ll get to that later. Go. Sit over there,” you instruct, pointing to the empty chairs on the other side of the bar-style counter.

He sulks over to the counter and sits with a huff, planting his elbows on the edge and resting his cheeks on the flat surface of his palms. It’s hard to ignore his bottom lip protruding in a pout as you get to work cleaning the mess you’ve stupidly made. Hard, but not impossible.

When it’s clear you’re ignoring him, he sits up straight and folds his arms over his chest, a puff of air passing his lips as he takes in his surroundings. Suddenly, his eyes zone in on the familiar form of a package containing delicious pastries only made in one shop.

“Mistledough? You went to Mistledough?” he asks excitedly. You must have met Jin, if that’s the case.

You laugh, “Oh yeah. I stopped in to get some baked treats for the pups a couple weeks ago and this smooth-talking guy comes out from the back with a big smile. His shoulders are so big and his waist is so tiny that he looks like a dorito. Right? Anyway he’s doing this whole bit about how good this stuff is and how happy he gets when pretty girls come into his shop to order it. He definitely knows how to advertise because I bought a whole package of them without even trying it first. It’s… so good though. Have you ever had it? What I have now might be a little stale, but I’m sure it’s still fine to eat. Do you want some?”

You poke your head above the counter to see Jimin’s arms crossed over his chest. He isn’t looking at you but he definitely looks annoyed. Is he seriously still pouting because he has to wait ten whole minutes to put his fingers back in you?

“No,” he pouts quietly, entire demeanor flip-flopped in an instant. “I don’t want any. I know what it tastes like.

You frown, thinking maybe it’s something you said. “Do you not like that place?”

Jimin puffs his cheeks out and removes the thick black frames from his face to clean them with his shirt. “No, that place is fine.”

Anxiety races in your chest, heart snapping in two at the sound of his cold tone. “I’m sorry,” you say, gripping the dustpan tightly like he’s going to break things off. “Is it… Did I do something wrong?”

He catches your eyes, immediately filling his gut with guilt. “Ah, no, no. I’m sorry.” He licks his lips and rolls his eyes away, not wanting to look at you when he admits this. “It’s just… That handsome, wide-shouldered guy... That’s Seokjin. He’s my friend, but--Ah the way you talked about him just now, I got jealous. I’m sorry.”

Relief washes over you like a tidal wave. You cock your head to one side and stand to lean over the counter. No one’s ever been jealous of you before, or in regards to you; it’s kind of baffling that you don’t have the brain capacity to be flattered. “Jealous? Why?”

He spares a look at you and darts his eyes away. “Because.” He sighs loudly and slinks back in his chair. “He’s tall and those big shoulders let everyone know how strong he is. People can look at him and say wow, that guy is so handsome. He just… exudes manliness. Do you know what people say about me?”

The slow blink and the way he swallows tells you that he’s having trouble expressing the distasteful things he must have heard over the years.

“Jimin.” Your fingers grip his chin. “Nevermind what people say. They don’t matter. Do they?”

You tilt your head, trying to get him to look at you, gaze remaining steady on his eyes until he meets it.

“No…”

“You matter. But you’re hard on yourself. Do I matter?”

“Yes…” he breathes, offended that you’d even ask such a question.

“Well then you should listen to me. I’ll tell you what I think. I think you’re sweet and cute. I think you’re sexy and fun. I think I love the beauty of your soul as much as I love your handsome face. I think your height is not a measure of your worth and I’m not sure why it’s important to you, but I will hug you all day every day to remind you that you’re the perfect height to always bury your face in my tits.”

He laughs, visibly relaxing despite the blush creeping in his cheeks. “You’re good to me.”

“I think,” you continue, suddenly feeling shy yourself. “You don’t have anything to be jealous about. This world only has one Jimin. One who is perfect as himself. And I care about him so much that I want to go with him to a cabin where I won’t know anyone because when he’s around, my heart hurts less and the world feels less cold and when I’m with him, despite my paranoia and concerns about being murdered... he makes me feel safe. I love him.”

He smiles sweetly, leaning in to plant a kiss on your lips. “Who’s that Jimin? He sounds amazing. But I’ll have to teach him a lesson for stealing your affection.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head, nuzzling your nose close to his. “You dork.”

“You’re coming with me then?”

“It’s a date, my prince,” you reply with a grin.

“Thank goodness. I already cancelled my ride.”

The snow whips against your windshield wipers. Heat blares through the vents, the radio playing softly in the background. Jimin looks over at you, placing his hand on your thigh. You smile, giving it a firm squeeze and pressing it to your lips while your eyes squint through the blinding white obscuring the road.

“Do you see a sign to get back on the highway?” you ask, trying to bite back the anxiety brewing in your belly.

The “EXIT ONLY” sign responsible for your detour had been obscured by the heavy snowfall. Being that the inclement weather has put you in an unfamiliar area, you’re hopeful that the poorly plowed backroads are a short-lived side trip.

“Don’t worry. There has to be a way to get back on,” he assures you, giving your fingers a squeeze as he squints out the passenger side window. “Oh! That sign says there’s a gas station ahead. Maybe we could ask in there?”

You eye the instrument panel of your dashboard. The needle indicating the fuel level of your tank hovers two lines above “E.” You promptly go back to watching the road, wind whipping snow off nearby trees. You’re taking it slow as you come around a curve, but your tires spin when they hit a patch of ice.

“Oh shit!” Releasing his fingers, you throw your arm up to shield Jimin’s chest as do your best to turn your steering wheel into the skid as the vehicle veers off the side of the road.

The car makes a skewed slide to the shoulder of the road and continues to glide onto the snow-covered grass, coming to a complete stop before hitting any of the nearby trees. You exhale a ragged breath and look over at Jimin.

“Are you okay?”

He nods, carding his fingers through his hair. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” Your response is sturdy, composed, but its foundation is a lie that could come crumbling down at any moment. Shaky fingers reach over to click the hazard button in the unlikely event that anyone else drives by. You haven’t seen another car in over twenty minutes, but it’s still best to err on the side of caution.

“Just icy. Gas station?” you ask, trying to get your bearings. You don’t think the car did a 180 but you’re a little shaken up and could use a break.

Jimin points in the direction the sign indicated. “Not too far, I think. Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nod silently, checking your surroundings as you attempt to back up. The wheels beneath the car spin in endless cycles, bringing you nowhere. You swallow hard, turning the wheel in the opposite direction and trying again as you apply more force to the gas pedal. When the car doesn’t budge, you fear the worst and place it in park. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you slip on a pair of thin gloves and open the door to inspect the terrain.

With your first step outside your stomach drops with your legs on the slippery surface below your boots. You clutch the door but it’s too late; your legs split and you fall to the ground with a painful smack. You can’t help the pained whimper that spills out of your mouth in short, embarrassing bursts. You’ll be fine. You just need a minute.

“Snow! Are you okay?” Hearing your cries, Jimin quickly dons his mittens and gets out of the car.

As soon as he rounds the front of the car, passing the light on the driver’s side, his boots lose all traction. He stumbles forward a bit, trying to regain his footing before his legs finally slip from beneath him. The impact his ass makes on the ground beside you makes you wince. He grimaces, sucking air through his teeth as he leans back. Even still, he reaches out and touches your cheek with a puffy red mitten, opening his mouth to ask if you’re okay but not able to manage anything other than a broken groan.

You look up at him as he leans over you, feeling the fingers trapped beneath the fuzzy mitten at your cheek. Suddenly you start to giggle. Despite not knowing the source, seeing your amusement causes the groan in his throat to transform into a breathless laugh.

“We really are messes, huh?” you say, pulling down on the red scarf adorning his shoulders to bring him down to meet your lips.

His mouth is hot, leaving behind breathy vapors in the air as he sucks your bottom lip, turning the innocent nature of the kiss into something more passionate. Before your brain can register the action, his tongue already propping your mouth open. If the wind wasn’t whipping snow on your exposed cheeks, he might have been able to keep you warm and make you forget your surroundings completely.

Reluctantly you push him back. “Jimin we have to get up. What if another car comes and rear ends us? We would die.”

He sighs, wincing as he struggles to stand on the slippery surface. “Okay, but be careful getting up.”

He circles the car, inspecting for any signs of damage as you crawl on hands and knees towards the front of the car. Placing your cheek on the ground you look beneath to see if anything might be caught underneath. When you both come up empty, you carefully get back in the car.

Jimin looks over at you suddenly, an expression of realization coating his features. “Did you turn traction control off?”

You slowly close your eyes and run cold, wet gloved fingers down your face. “I’m an idiot. I should have thought of that.”

Jimin shrugs and kisses your cheek with a proud smile. “I just passed my driver’s test so it’s all fresh in my mind.”

Before long, you’re back on the road and rolling up to a pump at the gas station. Jimin disappears inside while you work on filling the tank. It’s filling painfully slowly so you start playing with the layer of snow on the top lip of the pump. You begin to gather snow, picking some from the ground and rolling it around to form a tiny, perfect snowball.

The bell on the door jingles as Jimin exits, a look of concentration on his face as he looks up and down the road beside the lot. An abrupt wave of cold shocks his system as a snowball disintegrates against his chin. He looks around for the culprit, but the only person in the parking lot is you. He blinks a few times, realizing you’re cackling like a witch as you screw the cap back on your tank.

Instead of forming his own snowball to throw back, his bottom lip protrudes in a pout and he puffs up like a bird who’s had their feathers ruffled one too many times. He must still be sore from falling. You start to feel guilty and start to apologize as he draws near, pulling him into an embrace. He leans into you, walking you back until you’re pressed against the car. You blush, feeling the weight of his body trapping you as he pushes his mouth onto yours. He removes a glove to fist your hair between his fingers and gives a sharp tug. Once again, he takes the warmth you offer and turns the heat up. Is this what he’s like when he’s annoyed and horny? You’ll remember to be bratty if this is what it earns you.

You pull back a moment, searching the darkness in his eyes for the need buried in them. Pulling his scarf aside, you latch onto his neck with the heat of your mouth, making sure to suck and tease the spot you know drives him crazy. You feel him lean into you with a moan as he swipes his hand erratically over your car. Feeling pleased with yourself, you grind your hips up into him.

You don’t see the snow he’s gathered into a pile on the top of your car, but you sure as hell feel it when swipes it all over the edge with one hand and holds the collar of your coat open with the other. The snow transforms into water almost immediately, leaving icy trails down your back and soaking into your clothes.

You screech against him just as he takes off running across the parking lot, giggling like a madman. He played you. You wiggle what snow you can out of your coat and give chase, gathering snow in your hands as you go. He holds his hands up as if to surrender and repeating a slew of “sorry”s, but something about the way he’s laughing the whole time makes it feel a bit disingenuous. Soft snowballs smash against his legs. You wish you had better aim.

As you move to gather more snow, he’s already firing off the ammunition he’s secretly gathered, pelting your coat with white. Running up to him through the barrage, you find he’s empty and he puts his hands out again. Seeing the snowbank behind him, you push him back into it, allowing a cushion of cold to break his fall. The melody of his laughter rings through your ears as your climb on top of him and sprinkle what’s left of your fistful of powdery snow all over his face.

You’re both laughing so hard you’re crying. After taking a moment to calm his laughter, he sits up on his elbows and removes a loop from the scarf at his neck to drape it around yours.

“Come on. Let’s get to the cabin so we can warm up.”

You wet your lips, the cold immediately freezing your spit. “What you’re not warm?”

“You pushed me into the snow. I’m cold,” he whines.

“You covered me in white,” you say, not thinking about the words until they’re out.

Jimin quirks an eyebrow with a knowing smile. “I thought you liked that. You were begging for it yesterday, weren’t you?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“You’re friends with Hope on the Street? J-Hope? Really?” you ask in disbelief. The guy is somewhat of a celebrity so it’s a little unnerving knowing he’s going to be at this cabin. The segment he did on puppies recently really brightened up your day.

“His real name is Hoseok,” Jimin says with a nod, crunching into a potato chip. “He also goes by Hobi.”

You can’t stop yourself from asking. “That whole dildo thing everyone says? Is it true?”

Jimin coughs out the chip he had been chewing and you immediately apologize, but he laughs. “What have you heard? I’m not much of a gossip.”

You shake your head defensively. “I’m not either! It’s just… There are so many rumors. I’ve heard it was a vibrator, cucumber, a cordless mic… And it’s always an absurd length, like twelve inches or something like that.”

Jimin laughs so hard he snorts. “Oh my god. No! Okay, I’m going to tell you the truth, but you can’t tell anyone I told you, okay?”

“...Okay,” you agree, not realizing the pit you’ve fallen into.

“If you promise you won’t tell…” he trails, looking out the window.

“I pinky promise,” you say as you stick out your little finger. You’re too curious now. You have to know.

“Don’t let on that you know, either,” he continues as he links his pinky with yours and looks over at you. “Promise?”

Your eyes dart over to his for a split second before focusing back on the road. “I promise, my prince.”

He smiles, taking the opportunity to hold your hand while he talks. “Hmm. By the time we get there hopefully you’ll feel like you know them a little. I’ve told you some pretty tame stories so far but… The truth is that we’ve all known each other since we were kids. So I know all of their dirty laundry.”

He wiggles his eyebrows at you even though you can’t pay attention to his suggestive facial expressions. Why do you feel like you’re getting more than you bargained for?

“You’re such a dork. Just tell me about J-H--Hoseok.”

“So impatient,” he teases with a sigh. “I mean honestly it’s not that bad. Hoseok and his girlfriend, Cat, have been together for a while now. They were… experimenting in the bedroom together. The dildo they were using was pretty small and she lost her grip on it. That’s really all there is to it. Someone must have heard him talking to the nurses.”

That makes total sense. Of course everything gets blown out of proportion. Poor guy.

“Don’t worry, he hasn’t let it get to him at all. He keeps a smile on and can talk around pretty much everything. But when you put him with Cat, together? They have no shame and if you’re not careful they’ll drag you into their filthy games.”

“Have they dragged you into them, Jimin?” you ask with a smile, genuinely curious with a side pang of envy. Whoever is dating someone as fine as J-Hope must be hot as hell. Just imagining Jimin being thrown into that mix has you salivating, wishing you could have been the meat in that sandwich instead.

“Maybe,” he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. “B-But that was a long time ago.”

“Too bad,” you suck your teeth. “Sounds like it could be fun.”

Jimin’s eyes go wide and he swallows a nervous laugh, not wanting to accept the possibility so easily if it was only meant as a joke. “I mean if you’re interested I can always ask if they might want to.”

You laugh nervously, not expecting that possibility. “I… haha, let me meet them first. They might hate me for all you know. I tend to talk when I get nervous and then mess everything up.”

“It’s part of your charm. You’re cute when you get shy. You have this… innocence that’s endearing. They’ll love you. You’d probably be their new favorite... toy...” he trails off into a breathy whisper, losing himself in some daydream.

“Are you sure you won’t get jealous?” you ask, snapping him back to reality. “Mistledough man had you so moody.”

“Ah, Seokjin. You know, I once caught him jerking it to a muffin.”

You blink a few times. “Seokjin is the bakery dorito,” you affirm, keeping your eyes on the highway. “And you caught him jacking it … Jimin. Tell me mistledough is cum-free.”

He laughs. “Seokjin would never. Don’t worry. It wasn’t at the bakery.”

“But… why…?”

“I don’t know. I never received any context for it and I was too afraid to ask. Honestly, I think it’s his messed up relationship with his ‘not girlfriend.’” He uses air quotes to signify his distaste for the situation. “Pumpkin. At least he calls her that. Everyone else calls her Grump.”

“Oof. She a bitch?”

“If you were at the shop, you must have seen her.”

You pause to recall the day you’d stopped in. “There was this one girl that was staring at me but I figured it might be someone I knew from high school so I avoided eye contact. Got this chill down my spine though.”

“Yeah that’s her. She’s a little rough around the edges, but she’s secretly soft on the inside. She just needs time to warm up to people. I think she has a hard time showing affection. We’ve all known her almost as long as we’ve known each other. She just needs to get laid. Scratch that. She needs to get laid by Jin. They’ve been dancing around it for over a decade, Snow. Imagine if you and I never… for over ten years.”

You exhale air through puffed cheeks. “I’d have moved on after two. You’re lucky you made a move when you did.” You give his hand a playful squeeze. “Why haven’t they yet?”

“They’ve both been in love with each other for so long I think they’re blinded by it now,” he guesses with a shrug. “They’re so in love that they can’t even see it anymore. Maybe they never did. But there’s always this air of jealousy that makes it impossible for either of them to be happy with anyone else. I should probably sit them both down and talk them through it, but sometimes Seokjin… Ah, he closes his ears to anything he doesn’t like. Maybe this year will be different. She always comes so if you think she’s glaring at you, she probably is, but don’t take it personal.”

You nod in quiet contemplation for a moment before moving on. “Tannie’s dad?”

“Ah. Taehyung. He’s probably my closest friend. Don’t tell the others. Him and Star have been together since college and are so perfect for each other it makes my heart ache. They’re really… unique. It’s okay if you think they’re weird because they are. But that’s their charm. They listen to really old records and wear vintage clothes and talk about art all the time. It used to make me cringe at first but now it makes me happy. It’s probably because I don’t live with him anymore.”

You spare a curious glance at him “You lived with him?”

“Roommates right after high school. Before he went off to art school and got his degree. Then I went off to uni for business and marketing.”

“Ah, right. College. That thing that most people do after highschool. I’m dumb.”

Jimin frowns, knowing it’s a sore subject for you. “You’re not dumb. Be nice to yourself. It’s not your fault you never got a chance to go.”

Your fingers grip the steering wheel tightly, enough so your knuckles pale. “I know I’m not dumb. I could have been a vet by now. I was smart enough for it. I could have done it.”

He reaches out to place a reassuring palm on your shoulder. “You can still go back, you know.”

You shake your head, swallowing the bitter pill that you missed your chance for that kind of life. Things are different now. You like your job. You like your life. You don’t need to use schooling as an escape from your home. Maybe it’s time to let go of the resentment. You can still be smart and not go to college. You can still enjoy a job that doesn’t require a degree.

“I need to work on not being so bitter about my past,” you answer with a shake of your head. “I like where I am now and if I don’t, I can always change. Thank you for helping me remember that. So.. where were we? Taehyung?”

“Ah, I caught him sucking on her toes once,” he says very matter-of-factly.

“What?!”

“When he moved out and told me about his roommate, I thought he’d be living with another man. He invited me over to meet them. Imagine my surprise when I came by. The door to his room was wide open and he’s sitting there licking up the bottom of her foot, putting her toes in his mouth.”

“What did they do when they saw you standing there?” you purse your lips, wondering if Jimin had been a part of this couple’s sex life as well.

“Oh, they tried to laugh and play it off like ‘Oh no we were messing around... it’s not like that... Why would be doing something like that? Da da da.’ All the excuses, you know? But I saw it and I can’t unsee it. He had a boner and she looked like she was enjoying it.” He shakes his head.

“I still think it’s funny you know him. He pampers Tannie. A lot. Like he spends an absurd amount on that dog. He loves him so much. It’s so cute. Wait… Does that mean you know other Mr. Kim? Moni’s dad?”

Jimin looks over. “You know Namjoon too?”

“This isn’t so bad. I’ve at least seen these people,” you say, mostly to yourself as a comforting thought. “Actually, I gave him a dog treat for Moni and he just… Jimin, he ate it right in front of me. I didn’t know what to do so I just smiled.”

Jimin start roaring with laughter. “That sounds like Namjoonie. At least that was edible. I watched him drink perfume once. He said it smelled so good he wanted to see what it tasted like. I’m not sure how drunk he was, but he had to be pretty far gone. You know he’s really intelligent, but he makes some really bad decisions. He will deny this until the day he dies, but I was there for his ‘bad boy’ phase back in high school. He purposefully failed classes because he thought it made him look cooler and he’d always brag about blowing off dates with girls and pretending to be a loner. Not to mention he always wore some kind of black t-shirt with a fake deep quote on it, he had a leather jacket, painted his fingernails black, had a mohawk...”

“Really? That guy? Did he have a motorcycle too?” you snicker. “That would really sell it for me.”

“He may have painted blue flames on the side of his bicycle,” he jokes. “Do I have to worry about him stealing you too?”

You roll your eyes. “Tell me about another one and I’ll tell you who’s the most dangerous. Right now, you’re still winning.”

“Yoongi looks the most intimidating. He looks like a bad boy, covered in tattoos and piercings. He even has his dick pierced. I’ve seen it. Yes, it looks painful. People say he comes off as cold, but he’s really not.”

“Like Grump?”

“Hmmmm… Different. Have you ever heard of Inkspires? It’s the tattoo shop across town.”

You think for a moment. It’s not like you live in a big city, but you’re not sure you’ve ever had a reason to go to such a place. You rack your brain trying to think of the place he’s talking about. When you shake your head, he seems a little sad.

“Don’t worry. You’ll know them once I’m done. I’m working on rebranding them. Pro bono. I’m working to make it something everyone will recognize. Jisoo’s got a lot of ideas and I’m excited to bring them to life. It will take some time, but I think it will be worth it.” He smiles. “I think he might be bringing his new girlfriend. What did he call her? Plum? Melons?” He snaps his fingers. “Ah, Peaches.”

“Peaches?”

Jimin shrugs. “They started dating recently. I don’t have all the details yet. It’s kind of a big deal. He usually doesn’t bring a date. He usually doesn’t date. And unless something has changed-- which I don’t think it has-- he's still a virgin.”

Your mouth falls open. “Really? How? I mean, that’s kind of impressive, honestly. The world is so busy trying to sell sex. How do you keep away from it?”

Jimin shakes his head. “Trust me, I know. My whole business is embedded in it. I guess he’s never had anyone he really wanted to share the experience with. I told you, he’s a real soft-hearted guy. He works part time at Construct-a-Cub during the holidays. He donates a lot of stuff to charities for children.”

“Wow. He sounds like a really good person,” you say, genuinely stunned by the kindness people can show.

“Don’t be fooled. He’ll tell you he hates kids. Secret softie. But similar to Grump, if you think he’s being cold, he’s probably just wary. Give him time and he’ll warm up to you. Keep an open mind. And don’t judge a book by its cover.”

You nod. “Of course.”

“He’s the one who actually did my tattoo and piercings.”

“I meant to ask about those…”

“Tae, Guk, and I decided we were all gonna get them right after college. Kind of a celebration pact type thing. Tae chickened out after watching us go and since he already paid for it, Star ended up getting hers done in his place.”

“Ouch,” you hiss through your teeth, mentally conjuring the level of endurance that might take.

“It really wasn’t that bad.” He laughs. “I was surprised by how little it hurt compared to what I imagined.”

“Did you watch?”

“Hmm?”

“Star getting hers done.”

Jimin licks his lips and stares out the window with a shy smile. “Yoongi offered to kick everyone out, but she insisted we stay. Tae didn’t talk to us for a week. He’s a baby sometimes. He knows she only has eyes for him. I think she’s an exhibitionist. Don’t be surprised if you catch her walking around naked.”

You hold back a snort with a pang of irrational jealousy. “What? For real?”

“I’m joking. Kind of. She’s soft and sweet and as a couple they’re pretty reserved. But I’ve heard them competing with Cat and Hobi for loudest cabin sex.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “And I guess that just leaves Jeongguk. Where do I start? He keeps humiliating himself in front of his coworker. He’s got a big crush on her but his brain just melts any time he’s close to her. For instance, he started going on about how heavy it is to carry around his balls. He kind of put his foot in his mouth, since he was talking about soccer balls. You know, he kind of reminds me of you. Almost like you’re related.”

“Jimin!” You choke on your own spit, trying to focus on the lines separating the lanes.

Jimin raises his eyebrows, feigning innocence. “What?”

“How did you know?”

“Well, it’s pretty boring actually. After I came out of your apartment covered in your juices, he accused me of eating someone’s pussy. I showed him a picture of you and he told me you guys are cousins.”

“Okay forget I asked. Please don’t say any more,” you plead, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “I can’t believe this shit. Why are you friends with my cousin?... That means… That Taehyung… oh fuck. I’ve been playing video games with Mr. Kim for years. Oh god. I’ve been talking about you to both of them in-game. Oh god, this is so weird. Let’s go back to when I didn’t know my cousin has been friends with my boyfriend for literal years. Our town is small, but how fucking small is the world when I moved from the city and I’m still dating my cousin’s friend?”

Jimin smiles. “It doesn’t bother me. Does it really bother you? He’s happy for you.”

You bite your lip. “It’s just weird. I’ll need to adjust to the fact that you two know each other at all. Oh my god. I should have known. In-game. He named his pet Tannie. God, I’m so stupid!”

After a minute of listening to the soft sounds of the radio, he looks over and asks, “Am I still winning?”

“I don’t know. Yoongi’s sounding pretty sweet right now.”

He gasps, acting surprised by your answer. “No,” he whines.

You twine his fingers in yours and bring them to your lips. “Don’t worry. I’m yours and yours only. I belong to one charming, snake of a prince. What are your secrets anyway?”

“You really want to know?”

You cock your head to one side and spare a fleeting glance at him. “Spill ‘em.”

“You have to promise not to tell.”

You smile, seeing the exit you need to take quickly approaching. “If you tell me I’ll wrap these lips around your cock when we get there. Wherever you want.”

“...That’s not a promise, Snow.”

“I guarantee you it is.”

You shiver as Jimin wraps his arms around you, sinking his chin into the crook of your shoulder. A heavy sigh reverberates against your ear as he presses his hardening length into your ass. “So?”

“So what?”

“Not too awkward right?” he confirms, holding your waist and swaying back and forth.

“Yeah, I almost forgot my cousin showed up with my bestie. Definitely don’t want to be around to hear them go at it. I really don’t need that image in my head. How far is our room from theirs?” you ask, reaching behind you to run your fingers across his pants in the place he needs you most.

He inhales deeply and purses his lips for a moment. “I don’t know. We change it up every year. First come...” He hikes your dress up and slides his hand over your thigh, teasing the sensitive bud beneath your panties. “First served.”

You groan as he licks a line from your collarbone to your ear.

“What do you think? Now that we’ve had dinner, can I have dessert?”

You shiver and turn your face to give him a quick peck.

“Mmm I don’t know. Maybe I want dessert,” you counter, licking your lips and sparing a glance down to the place your fingers are massaging.

A whine rumbles up and out of his throat as his hands roam the exterior of your dress, gliding up your sides until he’s cupping your breasts in his palms. “You make this dress look good.”

Deft fingers play with the button on the back of your neck, making quick work of the zipper concealed beneath. The fabric of your party dress falls away from your body and pools around your feet. “But it looks better on the floor.”

He doesn’t give you time to ruminate on how exposed you feel. He’s already spinning you around and pushing you towards the guest bed you’ll be sharing for the night. As you fall back against the cold comforter, he’s working the buttons off his shirt. Not fast enough. You’ve been wanting this all day. The notches on his belt are so small the buckle gets stuck; you nearly snap the metal with how quick your fingers are moving. He offers a surprised gasp as you drag his boxers down with his pants, thick cock springing free from its confines

You pump him with your hand once before taking him in your mouth. His hands, which had been fumbling with the last button on his shirt, fist in your hair as you bob up and down over his shaft. It takes all his restraint, but he tightens his grip with a moan and pulls you off him. You give him a confused pout, trying to move your mouth close enough to take him back in. He allows you to move forward just a little, your lips ghosting over the tip before he yanks your hair to force you to behave.

“You said it could be wherever I choose,” he murmurs, losing himself in the way you’re flicking your tongue out in attempts to coax him back into your mouth.

“So where do you want me, baby?” You want him so bad. You need him. And from the way he allows you to brush your lips against him again, he feels the same. You lick your lips in anticipation, causing a shiver to wrack his body as it passes over every sensitive nerve ending on the head of his throbbing cock. “Please.”

With just a word, he allows you to take the tip in your mouth, tongue gliding across every last bit you’ll give. He bites his lip hard and reluctantly shakes his head, pulling you back again. “Not yet. I want to make you sing first.”

“What am I singing?” you confusedly ask, knowing full well you’re probably tone-deaf. But you’ll do anything he requests if he’ll let you suck his dick without being a total tease.

He giggles, watching the desperation in your eyes cloud your understanding. Leaning down, he presses his lips to yours and slips his tongue between them, tasting the faint traces of himself left behind.

“Sing my name,” he pleads between open-mouthed kisses, hands sliding around to cup your jaw. “It sounds like heaven spilling from your lips.”

He pulls back long enough for your eyes to flutter open and see the love coursing through every last bit of his soul. He reaches down and splays his hands over your hips, thumbs curling around the band of your red panties before working them down your thighs in a playful wiggle. You pop open the last button on his shirt as he plunges a finger into you.

“You’ll ruin your shirt if you don’t take it off now,” you say, a not so subtle attempt to get him to remove it so there’s only skin touching skin.

He rolls his eyes, shaking the fabric from his arms. “Take your bra off for me?”

You discard the undergarment quicker than his shirt can fall to the floor, pulling his body down on top of you so you can feel that closeness you’ve grown accustomed to sharing.

“Jimin, I want you,” you whimper, running your fingers through his hair as he clamps his mouth down on your neck. That elicits a moan from him against your throat as he sucks a line of kisses down to a softened nipple.

“Yours would look good pierced,” he comments, squeezing both with his fingers before moving his hands to massage the flesh surrounding them.

“I’m good,” you laugh, watching the fascination in his eyes as your nipples pebble at the loss of the pleasurable pressure.

He hums a sound of indifference, pushing your tits together and burying his face between them. He’s sure to dip his tongue in the cleavage he’s created for his own benefit.

“Get up here. I miss you,” you whine, twining your fingers in his hair and guiding him back towards your mouth.

His mouth hungrily crashes down on yours and has you gasping for more in seconds. “Please… fuck.” He sucks your bottom lip through his teeth. “Jimin, please fuck me.”

His breath is haggard on inhale as he allows your lip to snap back to you. “But I haven’t even made you cum yet. What kind of boyfriend would I be?”

You take his hand and direct it to the slick, sticky juices coating your sex. “An amazing one. You make me wet without even trying.”

Jimin gasps, sliding two fingers past your lips and filling your pussy just to be sure you could take him. He pops his fingers out of you and brings them to his mouth, rutting the tip of his dick against your clit. Your body spasms as he rubs the entirety of his shaft against you. He grins when you lock your arms around his back and dig your fingernails into his muscles.

“You sure you don’t want me to make you cum first?” he offers again with a roll of his hips.

“I want your cock inside me now,” you whisper in a low, raspy tone, hot breath tickling his ear.

His hips stutter as he draws his pelvis back and you feel his tip teasing the heat of your entrance. When he pauses, you roll your hips beneath him, enticing him to continue his journey as the head circles your labia. Unable to exert any more self control, he sinks into you in a slow descent until he’s buried in you to the hilt. You both let out a held breath and moan against each other pitifully.

“Shit! Sorry!” Suddenly he pulls out and scrambles off of you like you’re made of lava, crossing the room and rifling through his bag. When he turns around, he's tearing the condom wrapper with his teeth, a sight you’ve grown so accustomed to seeing you should have known you were skipping a step.

“At least you remembered,” you sigh, getting into a comfortable position against the pillows. “I probably would have let you cum in me.”

“Now you tell me,” he jokes, dragging the condom down his shaft with ease.

“This isn’t the olden days, you know. Women have birth control,” you tease, spreading your legs and rubbing circles into your clit as he climbs on top of you.

“Oh so you want me to rip this condom off and fill you with my cum? Watch it drip down your leg when we join everyone at midnight?”

The thought turns you on more than it should. You increase the speed and pressure of your fingers against your clit. “Yes…” you whine.

He leans back on his knees as he slots himself between your legs, pressing his sheathed cock into you as you touch yourself for him.

“You want everyone to know you’re mine, don’t you?” he asks, thrusting himself up into you at a steady pace.

“Yes, Jimin…”

“All that sweetness. That innocence. You want everyone to see what a bad girl you really are. You want to show off for them, show them your pretty pussy. Full of my cum. Don’t you?”

You’re so fucking close. Everything he says is just getting you more worked up and you whimper, nodding like you’re a bobblehead without a brain.

“Say it, Snow,” he demands, slowing his pumps to a stop.

“Please,” you beg, desperately wiggling your hips to feel him again. “Please fuck me. I want you to show everyone how well you fill this tight pussy.”

“Oh, that’s it baby. Touch yourself for me. You getting off thinking about that?” He grunts as he resumes fucking himself into you, slinging your legs over his shoulders to hit deeper without hindering your ability to touch yourself. “I want you to tell me. Tell me who owns this fucking pussy.”

You clench around his cock, not used to hearing such filth come from his mouth.“This pussy is yours, Jimin. Use me like your little fuck toy.”

He tenses, throbbing inside you as he growls,“Tell me you’re my cumslut.”

With one hand pressing circles into your clit and the other squeezing your breast, you search his face, hoping to find yourself in it. You’re so far gone you can’t even register the lewd sounds of pleasure spewing from your mouth.

“Use your words. You can do it,” he whispers, beaming with pride.

“I’m... your cumslut,” you whisper between frenzied panting. “Fuck. Jimin. I’m close.”

He slows his pace, bending himself over you to move in for a messy kiss. “Such a good girl, my little cumslut. Squeezing my cock with that tight pussy… Want me to fuck you raw, don’t you?”

“Fuck. Yes. Fuck me raw baby. You feel so fucking good. I want you to cum inside me,” you confess loudly, not caring who might hear. “Take it off, baby. I want you to fill this pussy. Leave me dripping...”

His mouth comes crashing down on yours again, muffling the sounds of your obscene begging. “That’s too bad. Because I’m gonna fill that pretty, filthy little mouth instead.”

Your climax hits you faster than you can vocalize it. “I’m…”

You gush around the cock pistoning into you and when he feels your walls clamp down, he stays inside to subject himself to the delicious torture of every twitch and pulse you deliver.

“That’s it, princess. Good girl,” he whispers, sweetness in his voice returning.

His forehead drops against yours and he rides out your high with you, pressing his lips to yours until your hands fall limp against the mattress.

“That was…” you pause, heavy breaths mingling with his. “...amazing.”

“You still want dessert?” he questions with a grin.

“Finally. Give it to me,” you plead, kissing his lips again and again.

“Not here,” he whispers, a devilish smile gracing his features.

The water is warm and inviting. The bubbles bursting from the jets below offer pressure in all the right spots in all the right ways. How he had convinced you to enter the jacuzzi with him completely naked is beyond you. You’re terrified someone might walk in, but he assures you everyone is lost in their own world.

You lean forward, pressing your tits together as he positions his dick between them and starts with lazy thrusts. You stare up at his fucked out expression, savoring the way his jaw hangs open as he watches his cock slip between your wet breasts. A shy smile crosses your face when you realize he’s looking in your eyes rather than at the lewd act of his shaft sliding between two perfect mounds. He’s lost, a disoriented smile setting up camp in the corners of his mouth.

You look down and stick your tongue out to brush the head of his cock every time it comes up towards your face. He slots his fingers in your hair, curling strands into his fist.

“Do you want to fuck my throat?”

He nods weakly, guiding you back against the seat of the jacuzzi. You pump your fist over his cock a few times as he towers over you. Relaxing your jaw, you take him to the base, tongue wiggling against his balls. He loses his footing for a moment, slipping against the bottom of the hot tub.

“Maybe you should sit down,” you suggest, his dick coming out of your mouth with a loud pop.

“Can you hold your breath for that long?” He sounds unsure, even as he’s settling in the space across from you.

“Think of it as an edging session,” you giggle, taking a deep breath and submerging yourself in the water.

When he feels you take him into your mouth again, his jaw goes slack as he stretches out his arms across the side of the hot tub and tilts his head back.

“Hey, did you come alone?” Hobi’s voice breaks his moment of peace.

Jimin panics, hands diving into the water to keep your head beneath the surface. Hopefully the bubbles from the jets will obscure your form. He wracks his brain, trying to think of something to say as he stares blankly at Hoseok and Cat, who are now standing in the doorway with eyebrows raised.

You grip his legs and fight against his hands, shooting up from the water with the grace of someone who just got a bunch of water up their nose and nearly drowned. You cough and sputter, swiping water from your eyes as you see two figures standing in the doorway. Recognizing one as J-Hope, your heart sinks. Jimin mentioned he was running late when he didn’t show up for dinner.

This is how you meet Hope on the Street. Of course it is.

The hot chick next to him must be his girlfriend. Realizing you’re completely nude, you sink down in the water to your chin and smile as sweetly as you can.

“Hi, you must be Hoseok and Cat! Jimin’s told me so much about you.”

Hoseok sputters, laughing with his mouth wide open. You recoil at the sound, wishing the jacuzzi would melt your bones and just leave you to live your life as a puddle from now on.

Cat lightly smacks him in the shoulder. “Yeah, that’s us. We’ll hang out later, give you guys some space. Sorry!”

She shoves her boyfriend through the door, leaving you alone with Jimin.

“I want to die,” you say, clapping your hands to your cheeks. “I wish I had drowned instead.”

“It’s not that bad, really,” Jimin says, pulling you back to his body.

“Hope on the Street just cackled at the sight of me coming up for air after sucking your dick. Hell of a first impression,” you grumble, rubbing your temple.

“We can ‘walk in’ on them later if it makes you feel better,” he suggests with a laugh.

You disappear under the water, picking up where you left off. If they were going to catch you giving him a blowjob, you might as well finish it. The taste of chemicals is already on your tongue; it can’t be for nothing.

“I love you,” he says when you come out of the water for air.

“I love you too,” you murmur, shyly kissing his lips before descending again.

Every time you resurface, he’s waiting, bringing you to his lips with a sweet kiss. You can tell he’s close, but you’re having too much fun popping out of the water to kiss him. Finally, he’s had enough of the edging and has you kneeling in the center of the jacuzzi, sloppily thrusting himself deep into your mouth.

“I’m gonna cum,” he warns. “Is this okay?”

“Mmm-hmm,” you mumble a sound of affirmation against his cock, only choking slightly.

The grunt of his release comes with the bitter tang of his cum hitting the back of your throat as he bottoms out. You swallow it bit by bit, doing your best not to sputter and choke with the way he’s tightly holding the back of your head in place. He loosens his grip and pulls back, catching the tears in your eyes and concernedly swiping at them with his thumbs. You swallow what’s left in your mouth like a champ.

“You okay?” he checks in, settling into the water with you. “That was too much, wasn’t it? I’m sorry.”

You shake your head with a giggle. “I like when you’re rough. I’m just… out of practice.”

“We can work on it then,” he whispers with a grin, pulling you into an embrace.

When he brings his lips to meet yours, butterflies tickle your insides like it’s the first time. You lose yourself in his touch, in his kiss, in his everything. Being with him still feels like a dream. Never in your life could you have imagined loving someone could feel so good, so pure, so right.

“Hey it’s probably almost midnight. Do you wanna go do the countdown with everyone?”

You respond with a nod. “Champagne?”

“Of course.”

He gets out first and you watch the water roll off his body as he extends a hand to help you out of the hot tub. Pruny fingers grasp his, hoping he knows just how much he means. You’re ready to face the new year together and you’re ready to jump into this found family head first.

Heading for the door, you pause, turning back to look at him. “Aren’t you coming?”

With a laugh, he comes up behind you, draping a robe around your naked form. “You might want to put this on.”

What would you do without him? You swallow hard, donning the robe and smiling at him. He links his fingers with yours and you head inside together.

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