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1427 · 1 month

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When the Levee Breaks (pt. 5)

Daryl Dixon x OFC

Story Summary: The one in which a stripper that used to know Merle and Daryl shows up at the Atlanta camp. Daryl’s feelings are complicated but mostly he hates her, right?

Chapt Setting: The Farm/Woods

Chapt Warnings: pretty explicit drug use (meth), season 2 Daryl, degrading/sexist language (he’s starting to get better lol), SOPHIA CHAPTER (I think that deserves a warning)

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: Daryl’s POV story. Daryl’s starting to be less of a dick, trying really hard to make it feel organic/make it make sense in the story. Idk. This chapter was really rough to write because… it made me sad. Also have no idea if it even makes sense (the hallucination bit, really hope it does) lol ALSO; I looked up some timeline stuff and i just?? Really thought Daryl was out there for days on his own? But apparently he wasn’t? We’re just gonna say that he is in this story. 🤷🏼‍♀️ I can only do so much when the timeline of TWD is fucking stupid sometimes. (I mean it. Come for me. Idc. Rick was in a coma for 59 days without food or water???!?!!!? Bye)

masterlist

17+ mdni (no smut in this one tho sorry)

Like fiberglass in my veins, it tears through me. Mellow, at first, almost think I should rail more before I can feel myself sweatin’. Different kinda sweat, comin’ from my fuckin’ soul.

Haven’t felt like I was doin’ something ‘wrong’ since I was little. That feeling that ch’ya get when you’re doin’ somethin’ ya know you’re not s’possed to. This ain’t the first time I done spazz, but maybe it’ll be the last. The anxiety about doin’ it goes away the second I feel the devil kick me through my nose to the back of my brain. Even though I know it’s comin’, it always feels like gettin’ skullfucked by satan.

Been out here for a day. I brought Merle’s shit with me because I decided to finally get rid of it somewhere. But I got somethin’ that needs doin’. And anyway, I got years of experience with ice. Not doin’ it. Sometimes doin’ it. Never let Merle know, he’d’ve made some big whoop ‘bout it. And everytime he’d gone and done more than he remembered, he woulda blamed me. Shit though, sometimes it was.

M’not like Merle and Beatle. Ain’t an addict. Can do shit and put it down. Always been able to put it down. Figured other people could too, that they just didn’t wanna. ‘m not sure, but still kinda think that.

Never felt fuckin’ guilty about it before, though. Fuckin’ Beatle. I’unno if it’s cuz I’d be done with her if she did the same shit, or if it’s cuz I know if she knew that I was - she’d be mad at me. Mad I didn’t invite ‘er.

But this shit ain’t for fuckin’ playtime. Only reason ‘m even doin’ it i’so I can find Sophia. So I can stay awake, focus, and get ‘er back. They use ta use this shit in war. War’s the reason methamphetamines even exist. Nazi’s? Hell, every single one of ‘em in WWII. Kamikazi’s loaded up, totally fuckin’ wasted outta their minds on crystal while they bolted ‘em in. Kept ‘em awake, kept ‘em happy, kept ‘em focused on the mission. Tha’s what I gotta do.

I can’t stop lookin’ til I find ‘er. Sophia. ‘m the only one that can, only one that knows how. And anymore, ‘m the only one that seems to give a shit. ‘Sides Carol. And Beatle. She wanted ta come. Told her she’d only slow me down. Distract me. Drawn more geeks. She woulda. Told her I didn’t need food either but she packed me some anyway. Knew I wasn’t gonna be hungry. Knew I was gonna use this dumb shit to help. But whatever.

Doesn’t matter what happens to me, right? My life’s not worth nothin’, not compared to that little girl. Now that her old man’s outta the picture she actually got a chance. Maybe not mucha one, not the way shit is these days. But she got ‘er mom. And ‘er mom can actually be ‘er mom now. Not scared of some piece’a shit prick that finally got what was comin’ to ‘im.

Man fuck that guy.

The trail I’m followin’ disappears so I backtrack to the mangroves where I found her doll and try to find another one.

I start to wonder what kinda old man Beatle had. What kinda mom? Startin’ ta realize I don’t know a damn thing about Beatle. I know she likes drinkin’, she likes laughin’, she likes fuckin’ with me. But…

Beatle keeps surprisin’ me. Not just because she let me hump her face a few days ago, the fact that she liked it, shit I haven’t even had a second to process that. Nah, more cuz she hasn’t brought it up. Hasn’t tried to hold my hand again. Hasn’t been annoyin’ me nearly as much. Not even at all, if ‘m honest.

My brain’s goin’ a million miles a fuckin’ second over Beatle and what happened between us. Not just the other night, but back then. Got questions that need answerin’ but she ain’t here. Try to keep myself occupied with trackin’ but it ain’t like trackin’ takes much thinkin’. Follow every trail I pick up, but none of ‘em lead me to Sophia.

I’d prob’ly start gettin’ really frustrated about this, but that’s what crystals good for. All the dopamine I need, and nothin’s annoyin’. Focus.

✨🏹

Bent branches, wilted leaves, mud impressions, walker guts. Trees and rocks and blood and mud and dirt and greens and browns and reds and blacks. And it’s dark and it’s light and it’s dark. And it smells fuckin’ rotten. Bent branches, wilted leaves, another trail, another dead end, another undead shithead. Bent branches, wilted leaves, mud impressions, Beatle.

How many times did I go into Merle’s bag and take the devils dick up my nose? Cuz Beatle’s standin’ here right in front of me. ‘Cept she’s all done up in makeup and glitter and her pupils are the size of dimes. Little pink crop top, tiniest pair’a daisy dukes I ever seen. ‘n she’s in my face sayin’ the shit I been thinkin’ about her sayin’ since that day she said it.

“I like you, Dar.”

“You like bein’ fucked up more.” I say it like I said it the last time.

“That’s not true! I mean - I like you, Daryl.” She steps closer, tries to put her hand on my cheek before I brush her off. She slumps back a little, turning away. “You like me, too. You said it.”

My hearts in my fuckin’ throat and I’m standin’ there, this can’t be fuckin’ happening. I know is’not but doesn’t make it feel any less real. “Tha’ was before I really knew ya, Beatle.”

Hate that I said that to ‘er. Did I really say that? Cuz maybe that’s how I felt. Hell, maybe that’s how I felt last week. But it ain’t fair. I don’t know her. Still. Now. Don’t know ‘er at all. Thought I did. Thought I understood what kinda girl did those kindsa things. Is that really what I said? Fuck.

She’s still turned away from me, but I walk the half circle around to look at her face. And she’s sobbing. Silently, trying to stay as still as possible. I… I don’t remember this part. Maybe I didn’t see it? Nah, I saw it. Just didn’t care. Didn’t wanna look at ‘er. Didn’t want to hear her lame ass confession. Especially after she’d brought up that I told ‘er I liked ‘er. She sniffles and wipes her face before she pulls a bubble pipe out of the waistband of her shorts and lights the bottom, starts smokin’ it. She asks if I want a hit, like last time.

I go to say no, but the words don’t come out. Instead my hand reaches for it. I look back up and Beatle’s dressed all different. Baggy jeans and a bikini top. That night. Fuck. Shit. I don’t want to relive that night.

“I promise, I won’t tell Merle.” She says, handing me her lighter. And I smoke it. Inhaling the vapor slowly like she had. “You gotta sip at it, like it’s a coffee and you’re drinking the air to see if it’s still too hot. Roll the bowl or it will burn.” I do it the way she says. She’s like ten years younger than me, but she looks at me - talks to me like it don’t matter. Like she don’t see it that way. Guess I don’t either, never really did.

I’d never wanted to smoke it before. But that night I wanted to. With her. Woulda done anything she’d asked that night ‘fore she ruined it. I ruined it. Til it got all fucked up an’ it was never the same again. Not the way I saw her, not the way she looked at me.

I’m goin’ through memories like they’re happening all over again. Feelin’ fuckin’ sick. I don’t wanna remember this.

I hand the pipe back to her and she asks, “How do you feel?”

“Fine.”

“Just fine?” She smiles.

“Good.” I clarify.

“Good.”

Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. “I think I like you, Beatle.”

She laughs too hard, “you think?” I feel myself getting sicker and angry again all at once.

I split in half. One half feelin’ those same feelings I felt. That this conceited fuckin’ bitch really acts like everyone likes her. I hear her words and it sounds like she’s sayin’ ‘well obviously’ - but the other halfa me hears it like a real question. Like she wanted ta know what I meant. I don’t remember how I responded then, but I can hear myself say it, “Self-obsessed cunt.”

Beatle laughs, “Is that what you like about me?”

My misunderstanding continues; Thought she was pickin’ on me. Makin’ funna me. All these years. All this time. Thought she was fuckin’ laughin’ at me. Never told a girl I liked her. Not that I never did like one, just never told ‘em. Not like some teenage fuckin’ confessional. And I do and what? she just laughs.

Shit.

Cuz inside ‘m screaming. Screamin’ at myself ta say somethin’ different. To jus’ tell her. She’s special, she’s exciting, and when she smiles at the shit I say it makes me feel like I’m the only one in the fuckin’ world to her. Tha’s what she wants ta here. Tha’s why she’s askin’.

“Nah. Forget it.” She nods, and I thought she did forget it. She forgot until she brings it up again in the memory I already re-lived.

Tha’s how I was so damn sure she didn’t give a single shit about if I liked her or not. Didn’t bring it up again for months. Didn’t give a single shit about me at all. Felt stupid for ever thinkin’ she might. Just a dumb crush on a dumb girl, and I forgot everything about it. An’ every little thing she did that made me like ‘er ended up as somethin’ else I hated. And every time I saw her after that she was fucked up on somethin’. Meth or booze or weed. Usually all three.

It comes at me like a fuckin’ freight train, her lips crashing into mine, but this time I want it. Don’t wanna stop kissin’ ‘er. Instead my arms move and I push her down to the ground. She’s wearing the crop top again, can tell she’d been cryin’. She’s layin’ there in the rocks lookin’ up at me and I flash back to the living room where this happened, where she’d told me she liked me back. I wanna beat the shit outta myself for makin’ her look like that.

How didn’t I see it?

I did see it. I just didn’t care. Thought I knew what kinda girl did those kinds’a things.

Wonderin’ what kind of old man she had. What kinda boyfriends before she met me. How maybe she’s just as fuckin’ scared’a feelin’ stuff as I am. How maybe it took her months to even get up the courage to tell me after I’d told ‘er never mind and slowly started to hate her. How many’a those drinks were for courage? How many’a those hits were cuz she was nervous?

Shit.

And she’s runnin’ away like she did then. Away from me an’ outta my life until a few weeks ago. I know it ain’t real but I run after her anyway. Screamin’ her name into the open air like maybe somehow I can change it if I can get her to come back. But she’s gone and ‘m still running tryin’ to find her. Screaming for her ‘til my throats hoarse.

‘Til the walkers hear me.

✨🏹

Andrea fuckin’ shot me. What is wrong with this fuckin’ group?

✨🏹

Beatle’s in the bedroom with me but I can’t look at ‘er. Don’t wanna. Feels like she knows what I was doin’ out in them woods without ‘er. Like she can see the dirty shit in my soul and for some reason it makes me ill. Can’t look at ‘er. Knowin’ I hurt ‘er like that all that time ago. Knowin’ it now like I ain’t ever known anything else.

It’s just me ‘n her and she doesn’t try to talk to me. Just lets me lay there hatin’ myself for all of it. Didn’t even find Sophia.

Spent a lot of my days in my life hatin’ myself. Thinkin’ I was good for nothin’. Now ‘m sure of it.

I feel the bed move under the weight of her. She hugs herself around me, and like some pathetic kid I fuckin’ cry. Don’t know if she can tell or not but she tries comforting me anyway. “It’s okay, Dar. You did your best.” Her voice… how could I have ever thought it was annoying? Her bein’ so nice just makes me hate myself more.

“Lea‘me alone, Beatle.” Shakin’ her arm out from around me. She gets off the bed and sits back in the chair she’d been in. God, I fuckin’ hate myself. Wanna scream No, come back. I didn’t mean it.

Still got question’s that need answerin’. This time Beatles right here, and I ain’t got nothin’ to lose. “Why were you naked in Merle’s room?” Grateful that she’s sittin’ behind me. Don’t think I could talk to ‘er ‘bout this stuff if she was lookin’ at me. Right now? If I saw her face? Don’t think I could talk at all.

She laughs. Fuck her stupid fuckin’ laugh. “I still can’t believe you think I fucked around with Merle.”

“Why not? Y’all hung out every other day.” My voice is sharp, feels like she’s laughin’ at me again. Always feels like everyone’s laughin’ at me.

“We all hung out every other day, Dar.”

“Stop callin’ me tha’.”

“I was carpet surfing. Your dumbass brother spilled all the schkag all over the damn place.”

Oh…. But, “Ya didn’t have any clothes on.”

“I never had any clothes on, Daryl. You sure I wasn’t just wearing something ‘slutty’? You know, like you always said I was? Cuz I don’t remember, but I’ve never been naked with Merle. Ever. Sounds fuckin’ gross.”

Oh.

It made sense. Makes so much sense, ‘specially now. She keeps talkin’ an’ ‘m grateful cuz if I tried to say anything else I’d start fuckin’ cryin’ again. “I liked you, man. I…” she stops herself. Wanna beg her to keep goin’ but I can’t.

Instead I ask ‘er the only question I got left, “Why’d ya leave, then? Ya left ‘n ya never came back.”

She’s silent for a long time. “When you and Merle moved, where’d you go?”

She did come back.

“Why’d ya leave, Beatle?” Doesn’t matter where Merle and I went. She’s avoidin’ the question.

“Got sober. After that night… with you. Wanted to get sober. Wanted to…” she don’t say the rest but she don’t need to. I got it. Fuck, my heart can’t take it.

“Cuz I said ya liked gettin’ fucked up more than ya liked me.” It ain’t a question. I know.

“Think it was more the other thing you said.”

Tha’ was before I really knew ya, Beatle. I can still taste the words. “Shouldn’t’a said that to ya.” My voice is barely a whisper.

She gets back up on the bed and puts her arm around me again, this time I don’t shake her away. Her voice, so close to my ear, “I didn’t want to tell you that I came back. I didn’t want you to know that I got sober for you.”

What? “Why not?”

“Wasn’t sure you’d care. And if you did… I didn’t want you to have all the what-ifs in your head that I have in mine.”

She hugs herself into me so tight it’s hard to breathe, and she tells me, “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

I feel guilty, can’t take any of that back. Can’t make any of it better. I don’t deserve this. Her. After all the nasty shit I ever thought about her. After what I did to her the other night. I can’t bring myself to tell her to leave cuz I know she wants to be here. Don’t wanna make her cry again.

So I let her hold me. Even though I don’t fuckin’ deserve it.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd daryl #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon imagine

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sailoryooons · 1 year

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Obsidian | One | myg (m)

☾ Pairing: Yoongi x f. reader

☾ Summary: You remember everything. The first time you radiated at garnet, feeling the power of the jewel rushing through you. Remember the energy pulsing at your command. And you certainly remember the face of the man who ruined your life. Then there’s Min Yoongi, the Chaotic who is the key to your revenge.

☾ Word Count: 10,012

☾ Genre: Urban fantasy, criminal/syndicate, strangers to lovers, angst, eventual smut

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: Graphic depiction of death and body dismemberment, a lot of blood, Yoongi is brutally wounded/gutted, near-death experience, traumatic loss of parents, mention of suicide (not actual, but metaphorical), this is pretty blood and gory but not gratuitous? Death of a koi fish rip Agust the I.

☾ Published: April 22, 2023

☾ A/N: Don’t ask me to explain myself. I have no idea what I’m doing and my Aries moon is in full control of me and working me like a robot. This is a series or something I don’t know. I have no plans and no thoughts, just brain rot. Inspired by Jade City by Fonda Lee, the movie Colombiana, the movie Scarface and by my fuck it we ball attitude about writing what I want when I think of it. Also please note that the order of first and last names will be done in Western fashion in this, as this story does not exist anywhere real-world-adjacent and thus, will be first name > last name.❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

An emerald Radiant walks into the bar and makes a mess. It sounds like a punchline, but you never hear the end of the joke. Only the hook and the line. No sinker.

Before he arrives and messes everything up is important, though.

Market Town is a mess. Each side of the road has storefronts with open doors, neon and holographic signage blinking on and off with the shitty pulse from the electricity grid. In front of them on the side walks and spilling into the street are the stall vendors, ever-changing and ever-moving sales carts, tables, boxes and people hawking their wares, fruits and trinkets at the hundreds of people who writhe through the market.

It smells terrible. You keep to yourself, all the stink of bodies and rotting fruit and the sizzling fat of meat making your head dizzy no matter which way you navigate. Market Town stretches an entire district, street after street of stores and people and things and it feels like it never ends, the stench of humanity clinging to you like a second skin.

Water crashes down on a man selling lab-grade jewels to a wary-looking mother and daughter. They flinch away from the seller as he sputters and screams, soaked in sweat and whatever liquid has been tossed out an apartment window from above. He cranes his neck up to locate whoever tossed the water - or more likely, piss - out of the window, but he has hundreds of options to choose from from the apartment building that towers behind him. You grimace and step further into the middle of the street. Most of the apartments in Market Town have years worth of failing plumbing, and you have no desire to be showered with piss and shit.

It’s too early in the evening for the lights of the neon advertisements glittering in the air above your head to cast a blinding light on your eyes. Their glow is not yet painted on the surge of people coming and going, but you know by sundown Market Town will be a watercolor of holographic and neon advertisements courtesy of Roanoke Insurance, Jend Cosmetics, and Jura Jura Coffee: Best Brew In Diade.

At least Market Town has sensible advertisements. It isn’t the vibrant horror of naked figures bent over, or the bloody holograph of a man having his brains blown out. Crimson District has no shortage of unique and salacious advertising and the money its businesses generate make the lights and the glow much harder to ignore, even in the daylight. It’s part of why you prefer to scrounge around Market Town like a mangrove rat.

Well, and it’s what you can afford.

Namjoon’s work stall floats around Market Town. Usually, you can find him tucked between Margot’s fruit stand and Len’s divination table. Namjoon likes to nibble on Margot’s sweet strawberries in exchange for fixing the till on Margot’s stand, and Len is an okay stall neighbor when he isn’t so drunk that he’s trying to convince you that the end is near and the world will be swallowed in garnet and obsidian.

That sounds lovely, you always tell him.

Prepare for the end, Len always answers.

The sweet smell of tangerines reaches you through the sizzling smell of frying meat a few stalls over. It’s better than the rank stink of flowers wafting from a stall a few carts over, your head dizzy with the fragrance as you approach Namjoon, Margot and Len.

Margot’s fruit always smells better than any other food set out across tables and bins on the street. You’re pretty sure it has to do with the pretty, green citrine jewel that he keeps tucked away and out of sight and away from any wandering eyes.

You can’t blame him. Even though citrine isn’t high on the Jewel Caste, Market Town is primarily made up of Nulls. They certainly can’t radiate with jewels, but they sell them at a high price to those desperate enough to feel the power of a Radiant. Some even promise to sell jewels that make Radiants Caste Drop to a new, darker and more powerful color.

Only an untrained Radiant would think a Caste Drop is possible through a rock. It’s stupid, really. Anyone who wears or buys jewels openly in Market Town is asking to be robbed and gutted. You’ve even seen as light as a diamond caste get murdered here.

A kindly young man stands in front of Namjoon’s stand. It’s really just a wooden table with a bunch of trinkets, clocks with too many dials, little holographic action figures jumping into different poses, and other wares that run on technology or small engineering. Namjoon prides himself on being the best tinkerer, though you’re willing to bet he’s a lot smarter than that.

Namjoon himself isn’t much older than the man at his table, gesturing to a watch as Namjoon leans over it. Namjoon’s brown hair has grown long, shoved back by a black, cotton strip he has tied around his head to keep it out of the way. He’s dressed in a dirty shirt and canvas overalls, a little bit of grease on his arms. His glasses slide down his nose, lenses fogged with the humidity that collects in Market Town and makes it rot.

A fly buzzes toward you from Margot’s stand. He has his back turned to you, placing little white pricing stickers on his green melons. He's a little portly and very short - especially when Namjoon stands and shakes his customer’s hand. Namjoon is taller than most people, and much broader, his shoulders wide and arms thick, suggesting that he did something else before he became a tinkerer in Market Town.

You don’t know what, though. You can sense the peridot he has hidden in the soles of his boots and the fingertips of his work gloves, giving him power to radiate as he works on his little devices and mending broken objects for people. But you’ve never asked.

Asking questions is the first step to murder in these parts.

When his customer leaves, Namjoon turns to you and blinks his brown eyes at you owlishly, magnetized by his prescription lenses. He’s handsome - a little too handsome by Market Town standards - and he smiles at you, a dimple popping up in his cheek.

“I finally fixed this device for you,” Namjoon says by way of greeting. He digs around in his overall pockets and produces a tiny, silver device that looks like a bullet. “The little battery inside was fried. I put in a new one and replaced the copper plating on the starter. Your wires were totally corroded and-”

“How much?” you ask, a little exasperated. Namjoon will go on forever if you let him, and you need to get to Montana. “I only asked for the battery to be looked at, Joon.”

“No cost. It was a fun little device to look at. Kind of dangerous, though, no?”

“You can’t not charge me. I told you to stop giving people their shit for free.”

His cheeks turn cherry as he scratches the back of his neck. “Fine, what about five nil?” You toss the coins on the table and he passes you the device. “It’s a mini shatterwave, right? The high-pitched frequency scatters the frequency of Radiants?”

You give him an annoyed look. “Yes.”

“Who made it? It’s a fascinating device.”

Instead of answering Namjoon’s question, you pocket the little bullet and toss another five nil on the table. “For silence,” you tell him firmly.

He wants to ask another question. You can see it in his face. Namjoon is always asking you questions about the things you bring to him and ask him for. It isn’t his job to ask questions, especially as freely as he asks them. But Namjoon operates like someone who has no idea that he’s tucked away in the most dangerous market in the Crown Cities.

Nothing Namjoon does is that of someone low born. He’s too polite, gives out too many handouts, and lets his curiosity get the best of him. Lets his clients become friends. You’re fond of him as much as someone of your position is allowed to be - maybe even a little more - but Namjoon is a danger to himself, no matter how often you keep steering him back in the right direction.

“You!” Len leans over Namjoon’s table, his glassy green eyes wide, pupils dilated. His hair is white as salt and sticks up in multiple directions, looking as though he may have been electrocuted and never recovered. He points one knobby finger at you. “The world will end in garnet and obsidian.”

“That sounds lovely, Len.”

You predict the next words. Have heard him say it dozens of times. “Obsidian.”

Len surprises you. That has yet to be a response in your little game of prophecy, and you open your mouth to indulge and ask him what he means when something tingles at the back of your neck.

You pause and glance to the side where Margot is dealing with a customer arguing about the price of squash. A soft breeze rustles the canvas topper to Margot’s stand, carrying the scent of tangerine with it. Something is buzzing at the back of your neck, and your gaze slowly drifts from Margot to a man passing by the cart.

This is someone who blends in. His clothes are plain: his pants are ripped at the knees and scuffed at the bottom, his white t-shirt clinging to his chest in places where he’s sweating through. He has a floral shirt pulled over, open and fluttering in the balmy breezy of the market.

Nothing about him is remarkable, except that he’s beautiful. Perhaps not on the first glance, but when you blink and focus, it feels like you’re seeing him for the first time. You have no idea how upon first glance you thought he could ever blend in.

He has a round face, glowing and pale like the moon. Inky hair that is a little bit dirty, a few wavy pieces falling over cat-sharp eyes. He smirks as he walks, and though he isn’t looking at you, he seems smug about something. You’re not sure what, but as he passes you, you feel that tingle again.

Your eyes dart to all of the places you look for jewels first. Hands, ears, neck, and wrists. Nothing, there’s no jewel on him. You can’t sense a frequency about him that makes sense - he doesn’t fit anywhere on the caste that makes sense to you, but it’s definitely a Radiant-adjacent sensation. He’s on the caste, but you don’t know where.

Most Radiants feel like a dull buzz. When they have jewels, it’s more like an itch that you want to scratch. There is always an attraction for a Radiant to use jewels, even if they don’t belong to them. This feeling isn’t that, it’s more invasive and sharp, not like anything you’ve felt from diamond caste to onyx caste.

When he gets a few yards away, the feeling begins to fade. You start to turn away but he tosses something up and the air and catches it. You narrow your eyes and he does it again, realizing he’s tossing a tangerine up and down.

A tangerine that he stole.

“Hey!” you bark at him, making several people turn in your direction, including Namjoon and Margot. The man doesn’t pause, tossing his tangerine in the air again. “Hey motherfucker! You have to pay for that tangerine!”

That catches his attention. He turns and looks at you over his shoulder, eyes round and mouth parted in surprise. A few people turn to look at where you’re shouting, but you mostly go ignored. Thieves are common here and most people don’t bother to yell at them anymore.

The man pauses for a moment. His gaze darts between you, Margot who is coming around his cart behind you with a knife, and the ripe little tangerine in his hand. He looks at you again, dark eyes glittering. For a second, the two of you are connected, strung together by an unlikely moment between strangers. Then he does the damndest thing: he grins.

And then he’s running down the street, floral shirt snapping in the wind as he dashes headfirst into the crowd.

Like the idiot you are, you take off after him. Suddenly, you are the number one security measure of Margot’s fruit stand, a man who has never given you a fucking discount in your life. You have no idea why you’re running after this tangerine thief, but you feel energy surge through you as you do, dodging people and bodies and things as you tear after him.

The tangerine thief is quick on his feet but you’re fast too, the emerald jewel hidden in your boot sending energy through you. You only radiate a little - not enough to draw too much attention, but enough to not lose sight of his red shirt flapping as he takes a corner and leaps over a stall.

He’s a Radiant, you realize. You suspected when you felt him walk behind you, but the ease at which he vaults a market stall much taller than him gives it away. He isn’t worried about hiding his status from you, which can mean a couple of things.

You don’t consider any of them, going around the stall instead of over. The emerald in your shoe is more than enough to send you several meters in the air, but you like to play your cards close. Don’t like to flash power unless you absolutely have to.

In a market full of Nulls, you prefer to blend in. Unjeweled is safer, especially in Market Town full of thieves and cut throats for naive or unsuspecting Radiants.

Just as you catch sight of your thief again, there’s a loud snap in the market. You look up, seeing a two story stall made from dry-rotted driftwood splinter. There’s a single second where you’re watching the top of the stall holding fresh rain water and it’s crashing down onto the market floor.

Screams ring out as alarmed market goers are startled by the sudden deluge. You just barely throw up a shield of concentrated energy. Water splits once it hits you, a river breaking around a boulder. Chaos ensues, the stall owner screaming her head off and wailing about the precious rainwater she collected to bless with her divine spiritual energy and sell, while shoppers and other stall owners alike are furious about their now soaking persons and wares.

Dropping your shield, you shoulder through the crowd. Now the smell of garbage is wet and pungent, clinging to bodies as you shove through the mess, looking for any sign of the pretty boy and his stolen tangerine.

It’s a mass of colors and people, lanes between stalls and the crowd opening and closing. The movement of Market Town flexes like a living thing, shifting and writhing, a hungry serpent sliding through the streets.

“Fuck,” you growl. It was a well placed distraction and perfect aim, using his power to snap the beam of the stand.

With a sigh, you look down at your watch and curse. You’re going to be late to work. Again. All because you chased down a thief for a fruit salesman that doesn’t even like you.

But that tingle. That sense of awareness that pricked the back of your neck, sharp and lethal. You think about it as you speed walk to the outskirts of Market Town where the edge of the Night Sphinx territory borders the loosely carved strip of streets that belong to the Green Dragons.

The lane of pockmarked pavement between the left and right sides of the street is the only place in Diade where two families of the Armory share such close property. Though the Salib and Park families are friendly enough, it still doesn’t do well to mix too much among Armory families outside of official business.

As soon as you hit the corner, you keep your eye on the other side of the street. It’s lined with clubs and bars and gambling dens that belong to the Night Sphinx organization. A few patrons loiter on the street, but it’s mostly members with sphinx tattoos, brooches or emblems stitched to their clothing to state their association.

The sun is sinking toward its final goodbye, rays of gold light cut in half by the towering buildings of Civ just a few miles away. It’s a beautiful sight, a shot straight down to the lower elevation of the giant buildings turned burnish gold by the sunset.

Even from a distance, the commercial district of the city is imposing, its steel teeth biting upward at a colored sky. You wonder what it must be like to live in that world. To work or live in one of the Civ towers. You imagine you’d have your own little office with a desk and a private window to look out at the world. So high up near the clouds, a god of civilization.

A group of Green Dragons pour out of the door of Montana and onto the sidewalk. It draws your attention away from the shining, ever-golden Civ to the flickering neon sign above a banged-up metal door. It looks like the lock is busted again and you make a note to tell Burro. Not that he’ll get it fixed. It’s not worth the nil to fix anything in Montana, including the mangrove rat infestation brought in by one of the liquor shipments from Blows.

Inside the bar is no better. Sticky floors, wobbling tables with chipped wood and scratched lacquer coating, a single bar with broken stools pulled up to the edge. There are a few holoscreens flickering above the colorful bottles that line the bar, sometimes interrupted by Jungkook’s tattooed hand reaching for bottles.

Montana is rarely busy. It’s a new acquisition fronted by the Green Dragons, though the building isn’t new and neither is the bar. It had been closed for almost fifteen years, a rotted hole of a used-to-be-bar until Jimin opened it up again. He doesn’t intend for it to be a popular place to drink as much as he needs it for Green Dragons operations, but he fixed it up a bit.

As you round the bar to throw your shit in the office, a mangrove rat scurries by your feet, making you screech and jump. Jungkook lifts his head, round eyes sweeping back and forth for danger, hands cocked and fists half-clenched. He catches sight of the rat scurrying into one of the holes in the side of the wall and scowls before nodding in greeting.

So maybe Jimin hadn’t fixed up the bar that much.

If Jungkook is irritated by your tardiness, he doesn’t say anything. You’re just as pleased as you are displeased to discover that Burro isn’t in the bar at all. You suspect he’s down the block wasted in the Green Garter. Instead of asking, you immediately get to helping Jungkook maintain the system behind the bar, which is mostly cleaning vigorously at all times to fight the grime that seems to inch up on the place every hour.

Working with Jungkook is your favorite. He’s a quiet kid with a guarded expression and soft eyes. You don’t ask him much about how he got here or why. Jimin seems to show him the same reverence as when he first found you, so it’s safe to assume that Jungkook is a stray like you.

Even without jewels, Jungkook is tall and broad, his arms thick and strong enough to lift kegs one-armed over his shoulder. You’ve seen him go from quiet and unassuming behind the bar to throwing a jeweled Radiant across the street. You know he has your back. Despite the fact that his eyes sometimes drift to where your emerald is hidden. It’s the only evidence that you have that he’s frequency sensitive, like you.

Jungkook’s energy vibrates somewhere on the light colors. Maybe jade or rose, it’s hard to place him because he wears no jewels.

The sound of some sporting event on the holoscreen buzzes behind you. The murmur of voices is soothing as you work, scrubbing a stain on the bartop you don’t remember being there yesterday. A quick sweep tells you that it’s the usual crowd this evening: Daro who is a smoky jewel sitting at a booth with Rollins and Gia, both emeralds; twins Rin and Maki sitting at the bar with their sharp, matching gazes vibrating at amethyst, and Bolero who doesn’t run with the Green Dragons but has become a regular, the only Null in the building.

Bolero signals for another drink, grey eyes following you. He’s dancer-thin and his face is sharp like a hawk, grey eyes even sharper. He’s always in a long, red trench coat no matter how boiling hot it is. You think you’re going to see him keel over and have a heatstroke one day, but he never does. Just strolls in, pushing his long, dark hair out of his face before sitting down wordlessly at the bar.

You pour him a whiskey neat and slide it over to him. He hums a thank you and turns his attention back to the screen flickering behind you. Bolero never talks, but you don’t mind him. The Radiants ignore him, though they hadn’t at first. You still see Rollins sporting a ropey scar on his hand from learning how much bullying Bolero would take.

Apparently, it was very little.

Most places would have had the Null killed and dragged out for the city sanitation to collect in their once-a-week pickups. To Radiants, anyone who doesn’t have power, who can’t radiate on the same frequency as a jewel, is beneath them. Powerless. Ant, meet boot.

Radiants, you’ve learned, are certainly powerful but not quite intelligent.

“Where’s the asshole?” you ask Jungkook as you close the dishwasher with your hip. Three hours in and no Burro in sight. Not that you’re complaining, but as the manager, he’s usually expected to be around in the event that someone important drops by for business.

Jungkook shrugs, dubious. “How should I know?”

“He can’t keep leaving you alone.”

“I’m not a kid.” You give him a look and his cheeks go pink. “I’m twenty-two, you know?”

“A child. A mere infant. Baby.”

“Ugh.”

“Anway,” you clarify, throwing a rag over your shoulder. “It’s not right. If someone comes in here for Green Dragons shit and Burro isn’t around, you’re gonna be fucked.”

“I can service them just fine.”

“Yeah? Where’s the stash?”

Jungkook smirks and leans against the bar. He’s dressed in dirty pants and a t-shirt he’s patched holes on several times already. His arms flex as he crosses them, cocking his head to the side. His hair is so much longer than it used to be - now it’s wavy and falling into his eyes, sticking to the sweaty skin of his forehead. You want to offer him a haircut, but you don’t want to baby him further.

“It’s in the grate underneath the desk in Burro’s office.”

“Great, and then they’ll flay you alive for not answering in their weird little code phrase.” Jungkook’s smirk falls off his face and you shake your head. “Exactly. Just because you know things doesn’t mean you know all of them, Jungkook.”

“Whatever.”

Jungkook pushes off of the counter and distracts himself by sullenly adjusting the bottles on the bar. You snort and turn back to trying to pry the sparking plug of the freezer out from the outlet to move power sources. Eventually, you feel Jungkook’s presence at your side, making you crane your neck up to look at him.

“So what is the code phrase?” he asks, pout prominent. You roll your eyes and straighten just as the door opens to the bar.

The door swings open with such force that it smacks the wall behind it, doorknob cracking. It draws the attention of the bar, everyone turning in their seats to see the man standing at the entrance. He’s mid-size with wild, blue hair and there’s a messy tattoo of a black cat on his arm. Your eyes narrow and the bar stills at the violent entrance of a Night Sphinx member in front of you, panting and staring directly at Bolero, the only person not looking at the door.

“Can I help you?” you ask, looking back and forth between them.

The Night Sphinx is angry and his energy snaps around him, a crackle in the air. You don’t have to sense the emeralds on him to know where he’s at on the Jewel Caste. He has a single ring on his finger and two modest earrings, not polished jewels but still emeralds all the same.

For a second, the man doesn’t say anything. He just stares at Bolero in a red rage, face purpling with the way he’s panting, fists clenched at his sides. You think he might just pass out, but then he’s pointing a finger at the Null sitting at your bar, sipping whiskey.

“You motherfucker!” His voice is garbled and slurred with liquor. “You fucked my wife!”

“Oh for jewels sake,” Maki grunts, turning away and sharing a roll of her eyes with her twin. “Take him outside and kick his ass then. He’s a Null.”

If being sold out by Maki bothers Bolero, he doesn’t show it. He simply sits there in his heavy trench coat, eyes fixed on the game on the holoscreen. This seems to enrage the man at the door even further. He ignores Maki’s advice and storms into the bar, gathering energy as he goes. The chairs and tables he walks by rattle and slide away from him, the pulse of energy flowing through him as he radiates disturbing them.

No one in the bar moves. Jungkook is transfixed and confused, eyes wide. The Green Dragons in the bar watch with mild interest. Bolero isn’t one of them, and the bar isn’t important enough to pick a fight with one of Salib's men over a Null.

But you’re not looking forward to the cleanup, and you don’t want to explain to Jimin how you did nothing while some Night Sphinx came in and fucked up a patron.

As your hand slides to the small, bullet-shaped device Namjoon fixed for you, Bolero moves. It’s almost too fast to follow the fluid way he stands and spins from the chair. His foot slips under the stool, using the toe of his boot to hook it behind the stool’s leg and he kicks.

The stool flies at the Radiant. He’s a little drunk and slow, but he’s still a Radiant and he reacts with enough clarity to pulse with the jewels on his hand and earrings once, sending a shield of energy around him. The stool shatters against the invisible wall, leaving the intruder unharmed.

Bolero is still fast for a Null though, already flipping a round table over to duck behind it as the Night Sphinx sends a green bolt of energy right at Bolero. It hits the table and singes it, cracking it in half. It’s loud as thunder, your yell going ignored as the two of them wreck the left side of the bar.

This is the ignorance of the Radiants. They don’t care about how destructive they are, storming into places and letting others take damage as they make demands and use force when they want.

Grabbing the scatterwave in your pocket. Bolero is dodging and waving blasts of energy from the man who chases him around the bar, blowing tables and chairs to bits. The other members of the Green Dragons have moved out of the warpath, collected near a booth on the far end of the bar, watching and jeering as Bolero doges a slice of concentrated energy that would have taken his head off.

“Fuckers,” you mutter.

Palming the device you press the top of the scatterwave. The device is small but it lets out a high-pitched sound when activated, sharp enough to disrupt frequencies within a small radius. Its target is the darker colors on the caste, its high frequency enough of a distraction and disruption for Radiants that it makes it harder to radiate.

The reaction is instantaneous. You feel nausea roll through your stomach and your world spins. It’s an earth-shattering noise, your ears vibrating with the force of the whistle. Your vision is blurry but you stumble toward where the two men are fighting, the Radiant bent over with his hands on his ears screaming from the force of the shatterwave.

Bolero is unaffected. He has no frequency to scatter and he takes the shot, leaping at the struggling Radiant with a snarl on his face.

“Not in here!” you screech. “He’s a Salib, you cannot kill him in Park territory. Go somewhere else! Bolero, please!”

Bolero looks at you once, grey eyes full of fire. He has the intruder by the shirt collar, fisted tight as the man continues to thrash against the sound of your device. You think for a split second that Bolero is going to drag him out of the bar and do what you ask. He turns to look at the door, considering it.

He decides not to. A knife appears in his hand and you yell as he stabs downward. You can’t hear the fleshy sound as Bolero sinks the blade in over the wailing of the device in your hand. He hits right between the ribs and up, a solid jab directly to the heart. The Radiant jerks in Bolero’s arms, his death twitch violent as he fists Bolero’s shirt, eyes wide, face aghast. Then he goes limp, sagging as a ragged breath leaves him.

No one moves. Bolero holds the dead man in his arms, panting and looking down at him. They are so close, Bolero’s face right over the man’s and if you didn’t know any better, you might think they were lovers. Bolero slowly crouches down, suddenly gentle as he lays the dead body on the ground, hands hovering over him.

You press the top of the shatterwave and it goes silent as it can with the high-pitched ring in your ears as you try to recover. You’re a little unsteady on your feet, pressing your hand against the bartop to keep your balance. A sharp pain behind your eyes signals an oncoming headache.

“What the fuck?” your voice sounds foreign and strained in the ringing quiet. “Are you fucking serious?”

Bolero rises, pulling the bloody knife with him. He wipes it on his pants and flips it in his fingers artfully. Familiar with blades, you note. He half turns to you and glances around the destroyed section of Monatna before he looks back at you and shrugs.

“Maybe you didn’t notice, but he was trying to kill me.”

“I don’t give a fuck. You kill people outside of this bar. You aren’t permitted to kill here.”

“Montana doesn’t protect its patrons?”

“Montana protects Green Dragons,” you clarify with a hiss.

You feel your fingers twitch. The familiar urge to radiate rises. It’s a natural instinct, to want to reach for the power that is right there on the edge of your mind all the time. You feel the emerald in your shoe. You imagine it beckons you, wiggling its fingers, begging to be used.

You ignore it, pointing a finger at Bolero. “You fucked up and you know it. What the fuck am I supposed to do with a dead Night Sphynix?”

“Tell the Salib’s he attacked first.”

“You’re a Null asshole, it doesn’t matter that he attacked you first. You’re not fucking one of us.”

Something passes over Bolero’s face when you say it. Offense, you think. It’s there and gone so fast that you think you imagine it. You only feel a little guilty that he thinks you mean not a Radiant. You really mean not one of the Green Dragons but it doesn’t matter, in the end.

He pulls his phone out. “My boss will pay for the damage and deal with the Salibs.”

“Unless your boss is Jimin fucking Park, that doesn’t really matter.”

Bolero holds the phone up to his ear. You watch as he smirks a bit, shrugging. “Nah, but don’t worry about it.”

“Oh I’m fucking worried about it,” you snarl. Jungkook is watching wordlessly, mouth parted slightly. “Call Jimin,” you bark at him, making him flinch. You immediately soften your voice. “Sorry, just - call Jimin.”

With a bow of his head, Jungkook grabs the phone and dials.

Jungkook starts murmuring quietly when Jimin - or an assistant, more like - answers the phone while you let yourself into the back and lock the backdoor for security before returning to the front. Bolero is sitting at the bar waiting, the dead Night Sphinx behind him. Red is beginning to pool around him, almost black against the dirty floor of the bar.

Heading to the door, you throw Gia a look. “Watch the bar,” you grunt. “Unlike you did when that fuck stick walked in here and ripped the place apart.”

She looks down her nose at you, eyes narrowed. Gia is terrifyingly beautiful, standing nearly a foot taller than you and built with wiry muscle. Her silky, black hair is braided out of her face, elegant and carved like one of the glass angels sold in the art district. Her eyes are the same color as her jewels, a stunning emerald that flashes in annoyance at your command.

Gia nods once instead of arguing. The other Green Dragons behind her have the decency to look ashamed. While they aren’t heavies dedicated to protecting the Park family assets, they are low-level lackeys who could have prevented half the bar from being blown to bits by a Radiant. Especially the two amethyst caste twins who look at the wall blankly realizing what's going to happen now.

Instead of stopping the Night Sphinx, they all stood there with drunk stares and half-tilted grins. Jimin won’t like it and they know it. It doesn’t matter that Montana isn’t an integral operation to the Green Dragons. It’s about pride and respect. The fact that a drunk, emerald caste man under the flag of the Salib family stumbled into Jimin’s bar, destroyed the place and then was killed by a Null is going to set Jimin off.

So you find a target to direct his anger at.

Burro is slouched down on a leather couch at the Green Garter, exactly where you expect him. He doesn’t see you coming, the scattered green and white lights from the stage refracting and splitting into dozens of beams shining in his eyes as he stares at the topless woman on stage. There’s hardly anyone in the club and only a few people look startled when you grab him by the collar and yank him from the booth.

Security at the door and near the strange straighten up. The girl on stage keeps moving, lithe movements carrying her away from where you lift Burro up, fingers digging into his shirt enough to rip. He smells like grain alcohol and sweat, the stubble on his face indicating that he may have slept in the club.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Come on,” you snarl at him, shooting daggers as one of the security guards steps in your direction. You let yourself radiate just a little, enough to give out a steady hum that even the lightest on the Jewel Caste can feel the sensation of an emerald jewel. He backs off immediately despite the fact that you can see and sense the amethyst pieces drilled into his pale knuckles.

But there are two things that stop him: emerald is close enough to amethyst that a good Radiant can fuck up someone who is only a little darker than them on the Caste, and you’re a Radiant under the protection of the Park family, specifically Jimin, who owns the club.

As much as it annoys the man whose job is to protect the dancers and the patrons, if you want to beat the shit out of Burro on the shitty green carpet in front of everyone, he has to allow it. You’re one of Jimin’s favorite little Radiants and everyone knows it, especially on this strip of road.

No one stops you as you drag Burro out of the bar. His feet slide on the stained carpet, trying to find purchase as he yanks at your hand, shouting obscenities at you with his reeking breath. Your grip is iron, and you throw him as hard as you can once you’re back onto the sidewalk. He hits the ground hard, shoulder cracking against the street.

Burro yells and rolls over, curling into himself. You fight the urge to kick him a few times, your wrath waiting like a coiled snake to strike out and punish him for being such a burden to deal with. You leave him in a fetal position, storming back into the bar to throw a couple of nill on the table for the drinks and a heavy sum more on the stage for the girl’s trouble. She winks at you, pretty enough to make you flush and spin on your heel to get back outside where Burro is still laying on the ground.

Most of the time, you don’t bother. Burro is technically your manager and your superior. He’s an asshole and a waste of the Green Dragon's salary, which is why Jimin stuck him behind the bar, a punishment as much as a favor to Burro’s father who is a mid-ranking heavy in the Park family’s retinue. It’s as good as his son is willing to get for an emerald caste who is lazy and spends most of his days gambling, ogling at naked bodies, or wasted in a booth with Rollins.

Even so, most days you let him yell at you. Throw curses your way. Drone about how shitty of a bartender you are - which is true - like a gnat that won’t leave. He’s harmless on good days, annoying on bad days, and he’s too afraid to retaliate in rare moments like this when you shove him into his ill-fitting role.

“Get up,” you spit at him. You have the urge to crush his fingers that are spread out on the sidewalk. You think the loud crunch beneath your boot might be satisfying. You don’t, though. “Bolero just killed a Night Sphinx in the bar.”

“Swhwat?”

You growl as he slurs, slowly pushing himself to his feet. You think he might have been handsome once. He has the making for it, but his days knocking back grain alcohol have weathered him. You see the early signs of Alloy addiction all over his face, scabs picked raw, leaving behind dark scarring, the track marks in his arms when he wears short sleeves.

Raucous noise reaches you from a group of Night Sphinxes watching your exchange. Their laughter and whistles echo across the street, backed by the loud hum of shitty neon and the now very bright and flickering holographic display ads spinning in windows. This is a nice show for them, you’re sure. Everyone on this edge of Market Town has seen Burro get his shit kicked, though usually not by you.

“Get up, you’re embarrassing yourself.” You start marching back to Montana. “You’re needed at the bar. You know, the place you manage.”

He mutters something behind you as he manages to get to his feet, tilted and tripping. You don’t catch what he says, eyes fixed on the sleek car that sits parked right in front of the door at Montana.

The road here isn’t really built for cars. It’s full of cracked faultlines and potholes, but Jimin has opted for a sharp-looking SUV with green LEDs running down the side and a little metal dragon on the grill. Not his personal car, but a business class that is no doubt reinforced with bulletproof windows and shatterwave tech.

There are four men standing around the car, dressed in pressed suits, each with a dragon brooch pinned to the front. They nod when you walk by and you keep your eyes low, feeling the different colors as you pass by: amethyst, sapphire, emerald. They have jewels drilled into their knuckles and some of their teeth, earrings of polished stone, and necklaces set with their respective caste colors.

Walking around with that much power is safe enough for them, but it makes your skin itch. Thinking of all that energy just waiting to be tapped into, waiting for them to radiate. The urge to reach for the power just a few feet away lessens as you walk inside of Montana.

Inside is a vision. Jimin’s loyal group of Green Dragons sit together in a booth, silent and heads down. Maki glances up for a split second as you come through the door, anger twitching on her face before she looks back down at the table in resolute silence, her curtain of black hair hiding her scowl.

Good. She could have used her fucking amethyst to wipe the now dead man from the map and not suffered a consequence under Jimin’s protection. And yet there you are, walking slowly toward the scene of the crime.

Jungkook is standing behind the bar chewing on his lip, hands linked behind his back as he watches the two men in front of him conversing. Bolero smokes a cigarette on the same stool he was on earlier, eyes fixated on the holo once again. The dead man is still very dead, Jimin’s men spread out around the bar to assess the damage.

Jimin is one of the two men speaking at the bar in front of Jungkook. Jimin’s dressed sharply in black dress pants and a matching black, tailored jacket with emerald buttons and a beautiful dragon broach set with emeralds and jade. His arms are crossed as he listens passively, dark hair slicked back. There’s a single dangling earring in one ear, a teardrop diamond at the end.

Jimin Park is one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen. He reminds you of a dangerous jungle cat. His eyes are sharp, shadowed by a full-fan of dark lashes, cheeks round and soft in contrast to his elegant jawline. He smiles at something the man he’s talking to says, full lips rosebud pink.

Your eyes drift to the man talking to Jimin and before you can think twice about interrupting them, you’re yelling, “You!”

Both of the men jerk their heads in your direction. Jimin’s brows shoot up and he shakes his head as if to ask what the fuck? But you’re too distracted by the other man, who grins at you as soon as he realizes who you are, adjusting his floral shirt as he turns to face you head on.

You get a better look at him now and you’re angry to discover that he is still just as stunning as he was in the middle of the Market Town stalls. His hair is pushed back out of his face more, eyes twinkling as they drag up and down your frame. He wiggles his fingers at you in a wave.

“You can’t just steal tangerines!” you bark at him suddenly.

“What?” Jimin asks. He frowns and looks between the two of you. “I’m sorry, do you know one another?” The man says ‘no’ at the exact same time you say ‘sort of’ which makes Jimin’s jaw tick, patience waning. “Well? Which is it?”

“Seen her once,” the man admits. “But I don’t know her. She chased me through the streets of Market Town today like a lunatic. I think she took one look at me and fell in love.”

Your jaw drops. “You stole fruit from Margot’s fruit stand motherfucker! It had nothing to do with your good looks.”

“So you admit I’m good-looking!”

A failed attempt at a response comes sputtering out of you. You stop and start your sentences multiple times, trying to come up with a wicked riposte to his ridiculous insinuation that you think he’s attractive. Which you do, especially when he gives you a full, shit-eating gummy grin.

“Enough,” Jimin snaps in your direction. “Wait with Jungkook, I’ll deal with you later. And don’t interrupt me again, got it?”

You bow deeply at the command. You feel hot all over, an unpleasant mix of shame and something else that you can’t place for “Yes sir. I apologize for my outburst.”

Jimin turns away from you and back to the tangerine thief, leaving you to rush behind the bar to stand next to Jungkook while you stare at the two of them.

You have no idea who this man is. You’ve never seen him in the bar with Bolero, though it’s possible he’s come in when you’re not working. It isn’t likely, since there’s only one additional bartender besides you and Jungkook, but you can’t possibly imagine how this man is important enough to look Jimin in the eye when he speaks.

Jungkook gives you a head tilt and doe eyes. You shake your head, opting instead to study the object of your irritation rather than explaining. He doesn’t ask any questions but you can see the way he shifts back and forth, unsure of where to focus his energy.

As one of the family members in the city’s Armory, Jimin is one of the highest-ranking citizens in Diade. Though the Green Dragons are on the bottom of the totem in the Armory, Jimin ranks higher than most of the city by being the son of his family’s leader.

The man speaking to Jimin looks at him directly in the eyes as an equal. He is a hairsbreadth taller, but his gaze and tone are steady and respectful. There is no air of superiority between the two of them, making you wonder where exactly this smug man falls on the spectrum of city authority.

Each face of the Armory is familiar to you: the Parks, the Manobals, the Salibs, the Achilleos’ and the Kims. This man belongs to none of them and yet Jimin listens to him calmly, nodding his head at whatever the man is saying. Jimin’s arms are looped behind his back and he is poised as ever, even making a joke or two as they exchange words in hushed tones.

In Diade, the ruling family syndicates are the ultimate power. Jimin’s family owns the territory to the southeast, the Salib’s directly to the north, the Manobals to the west. You stick to Park territory only, always mindful of where each Armory boundary lies.

Despite Jimin’s favoritism, you’re not a high-ranking member of the Park family’s Green Dragons. Jimin thinks you’re useful enough though, and has a soft heart for strays. Jungkook is proof enough of that as you are, two little sources of information and loyalty in his personal pocket.

You work for Jimin, not his mother.

The respect that Jimin shows the tangerine thief leads to a few possibilities of who he could be. Under the rule of the Armory, there are other smaller and less organized gangs. The Circles are not particularly powerful and still concede to the Armory, but they range from loose bands of idiots and thieves to highly organized factions. There are dozens of Circles in the city, but only a few are powerful enough to earn a smile from Jimin Park, the prince of the Green Dragons.

Chewing your lip, your mind runs through a list of possible Circles this man could rank high enough in to matter. White Fang has always worked with the Green Dragons well. Their members can sometimes be found hanging out in Montana with tight if not overly polite smiles while they conduct business. While White Fang answers to all of the families of the Armory as a collective governing body, they are particularly fond of the Parks.

There is little chance that the tangerine thief belongs to the Midnight Sun. As the largest and most powerful Circle, they are only allied to the Kim family. Dangerous for any Circle to declare allyship to only a single governing body, but the Kim family sits at the top of the food chain. Being protected by Yujun and his son Seokjin have its strengths.

Your vision blurs when you think of the Kim family. Seokjin’s beautiful smile, the way his inky eyes glitter. He remains the most eternal person you’ve ever laid eyes on, and one of the most charming. Funny, smooth talking, intelligent.

But Seokjin is a snake. A beautiful thing that can fool you into a false sense of security before striking and sinking his fangs in deep.

Nausea unfurls in your stomach at the thought of him. You blink a few times, willing away the memories of him and his high-pitched laughter and anything else to do with him. Jimin shakes the man’s hand in front of you. It draws your attention to where their hands meet. Jimin’s hand is small and delicate in the large hand of the tangerine thief. A man who was raised with privilege and a man you suspect made his own.

“I’ll be back,” Jimin calls. You realize he’s talking to you and you bow. He turns his attention to the group of his gang members sitting at the table, waiting for their punishment. He whistles at them, calling them like dogs. “With me.”

You can’t help but feel a little smug as they jump up, tangled over one another to get out of the booth as fast as possible to follow Jimin toward the front door. None of them look at you or Jungkook, chins tucked to their chest and eyes on the floor. At least they’re good dogs who know when they’re going to be punished.

“Hello again.”

The tangerine thief is leaning on the bar. Up close, he smells like sandalwood and a hint of sea salt. It isn’t unpleasant, but you grimace all the same. There are bracelets on his wrist, but no jewels. The prickling, needle-like sensation comes back, right at the back of your neck.

“Jungkook, can you start cleaning up?” You ask. He nods and dashes away, giving the stranger a single nervous glance as he joins the security members of Jimin’s team cleaning up.

They pick up the body and carry him through the bag on Jungkook’s guidance, dripping blood the entire way. Bolero doesn’t even glance as they pass him, still transfixed by the holoscreen.

“Why did you use a shatterwave?”

Your eyes drift back to the man in front of you. Up close, you notice that his skin is flawless. He has a shine and glow to him of a healthy Radiant, and yet you’re not sure how to place him on the caste. You know he’s a radiant from his escape methods in Market Town, but you’ve never had this much trouble placing someone on the caste. “What?”

“The shatterwave. Had to hurt you too, I imagine.”

“Well no one else was going to do anything,” you answer, skirting his assertion that you’re a Radiant. “It didn’t hurt that bad. I’m a Light Radiant.”

He raises his brows. “Oh, you’re a liar.”

“About some things, sure. I can’t take on an emerald caste, though. So I used a shatterwave.”

“There’s an emerald in your boot.”

You grit your teeth. He doesn’t make sense. The needling feeling only increases as he cocks his head, scanning you from head to toe. His pout turns into a smirk and there’s something heated in his gaze that makes you squirm as you shift back and forth on your feet, trying to place him.

Sensing jewel frequencies outside of the jewel you radiate most with is difficult. Energy is a fickle thing, and though you can feel the buzz of every color of jewel around you, most Radiants can’t. They can only sense what jewel they vibrate on the same frequency as, though trained Radiants can sense their assigned jewel and lighter.

This puts the tangerine thief at emerald or darker. If he can sense the emerald in your shoe, it means he can use it. Unless he is a rare case like you and Jungkook, who are frequency sensitive. But he doesn’t feel like emerald and he doesn’t feel like he sits darker at garnet and onyx.

You shiver remembering what onyx feels like, an oppressive and demanding thing.

“It wouldn’t be the first time I lied,” you offer. You can keep skirting the topic of the emerald in your shoe, but he already knows it's there.

He chuckles. It’s raspy and soft as a whisper. There’s no doubt he’s used to the effect he has on people. It reminds you a little of Seokjin and you feel skittish.

“No, I’m sure you are quite the liar.” He leans in a little bit. “I’m Agust, by the way.”

Schooling your features is hard. Out of all of the Circles that crossed your mind that he could belong to, you never considered Black Lotus. It makes sense, you suppose, that Bolero belongs to the Black Lotus. It’s one of the few Circles in the city that not only accept Nulls in their ranks, but encourage it. A little oasis for Radiants and Nulls alike to claw their way to the top from the bottom of the barrel.

My boss will pay for the damage and deal with the Salibs. You think of Bolero’s comment, realizing why he was so confident. His boss is the leader of the Black Lotus, a chaotic thorn in the Armory’s side who walks around the Crown Cities undermining authority where he can.

Agust smiles, pride bleeding through when you recognize his name. He’s a little notorious for the destruction of three Circles associated with the Kim family and for donating thousands of nil to squatters in Blows. A violent killer with a soft spot for charity. Strange, and not quite as heroic as some seem to think it is.

Instead of saying anything, you busy yourself with folding rags, feeling the way of his gaze. Agust is pretty with a soft edge to his face and a charming grin. There’s a confidence about him that draws the eye, and yet he can blend in just like he did at Margot’s fruit stand. He is both sides of the moon, light and dark, switching whenever it suits him.

Again, he reminds you of Seokjin and your heart squeezes as you take a step away from him.

“Well, I hope you have a great evening, Agust.” It's dismal. Polite, but an end to the conversation nevertheless.

He isn’t swayed. “What, no name?”

“Do you need it?”

“I’d like it. Is it as pretty as you are?”

“Your flattery isn’t welcome here.”

“Then what is?”

You glare. “The money for Margot’s tangerine.”

Agust chuckles again and shrugs. You expect him to walk away or volley back with a riposte but he doesn’t. Instead, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the nil that Margot is owed and sets them on the counter, the silver coins clinking against the wood. He leans against the bar again, hand cupping his chin as he looks up at you.

“This cover me?”

You swipe the coins off the bar and sniff. “I suppose.”

“I like you. How about I call you Montana, hmm? Since you won’t give me a name, I’ll make one for you.”

Instead of looking at him directly, you busy yourself with moving around the syrup bottles in their plastic bin. “You don’t have to call me anything.”

“Or Garnet?”

For a second, you stare at your hands before slowly dragging your gaze to him where he watches you, feline-eyes glittering. That pinprick feeling returns sharper than ever. You’re a mouse caught under the watchful gaze of a hungry cat.

There are only a handful of people in the world that knows you sit on the second darkest color of the Jewel Caste. One of them is outside giving his gang members the lashing of a lifetime, one of them is sitting in a luxurious home in Aria and the other is no doubt watching cameras on the casino floor of Kaiju.

Sweat gathers on the back of your neck. You think about the first time you radiated at garnet, the power so raw and rich that you were almost drunk on it. You were just a kid, untrained in how to syphon energy that volatile. You’d become sick right after, taking too much too fast and completely unaware of how to channel all that energy.

The Kim’s had helped you find a way. And then used it to their advantage, a little girl with no one else to count on with all that power just waiting to be directed.

You refused to ever be used for your place on the Jewel Caste ever again.

“Say it again,” you murmur, voice low. Your hands open and close and you feel the emerald surge in your boot. Agust is either onyx or frequency sensitive, but it doesn’t matter. You’ve gone head to head with darker than you before. “I dare you.”

To your surprise, his smile is sad this time. There’s a moment you think you see understanding. Compassion. Something soft. Then it’s gone and he gives you a brief nod before pushing away from the bar, running a hand through his hair. You don’t move, muscles locked and primed to lash out, to grind him to dust if you have to. You don’t have a garnet, but you don’t need it. You can do just as much damage with an emerald, regardless of whatever color he is.

“Put the claws away, your secret is safe with me.” He nods to the pool of blood on the floor. “You have my apologies for the mess. Black Lotus will handle the fallout. Tell Bolero if any of those Night Sphinx fucks give you any trouble. You have my word I’ll pay my debt.”

“What debt?”

He jerks his thumb at Bolero. “You saved his worthless ass.” You don’t disagree but you say nothing. He lingers for a second, looking you up and down. Something passes his face that makes your heart speed up a little. “I mean it. Call if you need.”

“I won't.”

He grins. “Bye, Montana.”

When Agust turns to leave, Bolero gets up and goes with him. When the door shuts, it’s just you and the sound of Jungkook and Jimin’s men putting the bar back together.

No one can hear how loud your heart thunders.

THE JEWEL CASTE (from least to most powerful)

Light Caste

Diamond Citrine Aquamarine Jade Rose

Mid Caste

Peridot Topaz Turquoise Ruby Smokey

Dark Caste

Emerald Amethyst Sapphire Garnet Onyx

THE CHAOTIC CASTE (in general, from least to most powerful)

Opal Quartz Tourmaline Carnelian Obsidian

GLOSSARY

Alloy - A drug that allows radiants to lift frequency for a temporary amount of time and meld with a jewel they cannot normally radiate with. Caste Drop - When someone drops a color on the Jewel Caste and vibrates at a higher frequency Circle - Lower gangs who are not in the Armory Dark Radiant - Those who vibrate at the low-colors and high frequencies Jewel Caste - The order of least to most powerful vibrational jewel frequencies Light Radiant - Those who vibrate at the lighter colors and lower frequencies Mid Radiant - Those who vibrate at the mid-colors and medium frequencies Null - Those who don’t vibrate at the same frequency as the jewels and cannot radiate Radiant - Those who vibrate at the same frequency as the jewels and thus can radiate Shatterwave - A type of device that lets out high-frequency sounds to shatter Radiant frequencies in a certain radius Unjeweled - A radiant who doesn’t have any jewels on them to help radiate

#yoongi smut #suga smut #suga fanfic #yoongi fanfic #suga bts #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts fanfic #mafia yoongi #minors do not interact #minors dni

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andysorbit · 1 year

Text

Man Enough (M)

Idol!Jaemin x slightly older fem!reader

I'm not being nice anymore. "Minors DNI" Andy got hit by an 18 wheeler truck carrying 30k pounds worth of instant Ramen so if you're a minor, you don't gotta get off tumblr but you gotta get the fuck off my shit.

This is dedicated to that stupid fucking anon. I was high as fuck when I wrote this, bitch. Suck my wiggley dick!!!

Warnings: unprotected sex, dirty talk, daddy kink teasing, fingering, slight overstimulation, couch sex, jaemin's a smart ass, he's also a little full of himself

Jaemin leans forward and looks down at you. You hold his gaze. "Do you think I'm a child?" He asks you softly. "I never said that." You reply. "That's what Haechan said... he said that you think I'm a child. I mean... you did call me a kid. Different words, same meaning." Jaemin scoots to the edge of the couch, "Answer my question." You lean into him, and he pulls back, "Answer. My. Question." He repeats firmly. "I don't think you're a child, Jaemin. You're just younger than me and..." You trail off. "And you feel funny about that... don't you?" He says. You nod, "More times than not, yes. I feel very funny about it." You concede. Jaemin takes your hand and holds it to his chest, "You shouldn't. I know I don't feel any ways funny about wanting you." His voice is calm and alluring. "Why not?" You ask him. "Because I'm very confident that I can give you everything that you want and need." You hold his gaze and scramble to your knees. He takes your other hand and holds it to his face, "Do you want me to prove it to you?"

"I think you're Jaemin's favorite journalist!" Mark laughs.

This is about the umpteenth time you've interviewed Dream and as always, Jaemin is thrilled.

He has stars in his eyes.

You smile, "Well, you guys are my favorite people so it definitely goes both ways," You say. Being a few years older than Jaemin is a problem- for you at least but it's a stone you're more than happy to you leave unturned.

Everything is going fine until Haechan lets it slip in his very broken English that Jaemin has it pretty bad for you.

Not being the best knowing when someone is attracted to you, you brush it off, "That's adorable. He's a sweet kid," You chuckle. It was a knee-jerk response and for the first time ever, Jaemin's bright smile wavers.

He isn't the first celebrity whose ego has been bruised by your rejection. He is, however, the first one to ask you to have dinner with him.

"I can't invite you to go somewhere nice... we won't get much peace and closing down a place for just the two of us feels so pretentious," he tells you. "It's fine, Jaemin," You say assuringly. He smiles.

As the other members make their plans for the night, Haechan lingers closely by, "Noona neomu yeppeo!" he sings as he gives Jaemin a smug grin. Jaemin ignores him, "So you'll eat with me tonight?" he asks. You nod, "I'd love to," You reply.

Later that night, you're sitting with Jaemin in his hotel room eating the best steak you've ever had.

"The uh... the wine I ordered is a lot later than it should be... I'm sorry, Y/n," he says sheepishly.

"No, Jaemin, it's okay. This is fine." You say with a smile.

You think back to when you first interviewed Dream and how much Jaemin's english has improved, "You've gotten really good at speaking English. How did you even have time to practice?"

Jaemin smiles, "I stayed up most nights and just kept working on it. I wanted to be able to talk to you more and not rely on Mark to tell you what I'd rather tell you myself. Having someone translate is fine but... I..."

He trails off for a moment, "It feels more personal like this. It's like... personally handing you a letter I've written instead of asking someone else to give it to you. I like it better this way. Plus when I talk to you, we only look at each other now. That's my favorite part."

You smile and look down at your plate, "That's really cool, Jaemin. I think it's better this way too." You say. "Yeah... yeah, it is," he agrees.

A knock on the door interrupts the silence. "Here we go," Jaemin says and stands up.

You hear the exchange and wait patiently. Your nerves almost get the best of you.

He comes back and sets the wine down on the table, "I'll get this open," he says and goes into the kitchenette.

You watch him through the cutaway bar as he searches the drawers for a corkscrew.

God, he's fucking gorgeous.

He glances up and holds your gaze, "Stop looking at me," he chuckles.

"I'm thirsty," You laugh.

"No, you're not! I gave you juice and I gave you water," he teases you.

"What am I? A baby? Juice and water? You're an awful host and I'm gonna tell the press," You say as you try but fail to fight not only a smile but the butterflies you feel in your stomach.

Jaemin finds the corkscrew and comes out of the kitchenette, "Tell them you're an awful guest while you're at it," he says as he stands over you to pour wine into your glass, "Say 'when'," he murmurs.

He smells so good. Like fresh linen and cedar.

For a moment, you imagine his scent surrounding you while he's pressing you into his mattress.

"Well, I'm gonna stop before I flood city," he says with a chuckle, "What's on your mind?"

He sits down then fills his glass halfway and sets the bottle down.

"Mmm... nothing really. I have interviews to do this coming week so I have to go over my questions. Y'know... make sure they're not stupid," You reply.

"You never ask stupid questions," he says.

You cut into your steak and realize you don't want to eat anymore.

You just want him.

His eyes meet yours and a hint of a smile brightens his face.

He knows you want him. "I think..." he continues, "You overthink things and you cause too much unnecessary stress on yourself. Nobody who's known for asking stupid questions would be as successful as you've made yourself."

You nod, "You're sweet," You whisper.

"Just honest," he says with a reassuring smile.

"Thank you, Jaemin," You say.

"So uh... would it be too much to ask if you're free tomorrow? I know going out would be out of the question but... we could watch a movie or play games... I could even help you get ready for those interviews."

His eyes are eager.

"Yeah, I would love that," You reply.

Once you finish eating, you and Jaemin tidy up. As he calls room service for ice cream, you try not to let the pulsing between your legs get the best of you.

As Jaemin orders, he sweeps his long blond hair from his eyes and reaches out to touch your arm, "What do you want on your ice cream?" he whispers, "They have sundaes in those little boat things."

"Gimme the works," You reply with a smile.

He grips your arm softly, "Say 'please' you rude little thing," he whispers with a chuckle.

"Please?" You whisper as you pout at him mockingly.

He smirks, "Of course," he says and taps your chin with his finger.

Once the order is placed, Jaemin turns back to you, "Okay let's get to these interview questions while we wait," he says and gently guides you to the small living room area.

You reach for your purse on the coffee table and fish out your notepad.

"So old fashioned. I really think that's cool... nobody uses notepads except you," he says as he gently takes the pad from your hands and flips it open.

"Yeah it's just easier than using my phone. It's too distracting. Too many incoming calls and texts from the company. I can't stand it and do not disturb doesn't help because I find myself impulsively checking my notifications," You reply.

"Is that why you treat every interview like it's the most important thing in the world?" Jaemin asks.

You nod, "Well, it would be pretty insulting to ask you questions and not really hear you when you answer them," You say.

"Have you ever interviewed someone who made you wanna be unprofessional?" he asks.

"Why are you interviewing me?" You chuckle.

"I always have to answer questions but I never get to ask any... it's refreshing like this. Even if it'll never get published or posted online. Just feels good to... to learn about someone else for a change," he says then leans closer to you,

"Now answer the question."

You laugh, "Yes. I have. Plenty of times. The best way to be unprofessional and still stay face is to ask questions you know they don't wanna answer," You reply.

"Like that time you asked Jessi when does tanning just become blackface?" he asks with a smirk.

You nod, "You watch my interviews?"

Jaemin straightens up and stretches, "Of course. You never ask people if they're dating anyone or hooking up with fans on tour... Why?"

"If you're fucking in every continent, are you gonna tell me? If you're not going public with a relationship, are you ready to talk about it? It's about not wasting my time or yours by asking you questions that will more than likely lead to a deceptive answer and it's ultimately none of my business."

"Ask me if I'm hooking up with fans," Jaemin says and he's so close now that his knee is touching yours.

"Are you, Jaemin?" You ask slowly.

He shakes his head, "Nope."

He smiles and drops his head, "I uh... you already know I like you."

He looks at you and a quick knock at the door startles you both.

"I'll get it. You stay here," You say and get up.

He nods, "Yeah,"

You answer the door and it's Mark and Haechan with the room service tray.

"What... the hell?" You sigh.

"Listen, I paid the room service girl to gimme the tray. Jaemin's not some baby. You know that, he definitely knows that. Haechan didn't mean to make things weird. He-"

"Yes, I did and I'm not sorry," Haechan interjects.

"Shut the fuck up," Mark sighs, "He likes you and you clearly feel the same. Stop the charade and do something about it. Here."

He pushes the tray into your hands and he shoves Haechan down the hall as he mumbles something in Korean.

You shut the door and go to the living room, "What are they up to?" Jaemin asks suspiciously.

"Nothin'... just checking in I guess." You reply.

You set the tray down on the coffee table. "Come on, Jaemin. Sit down here with me," You say as you slink down to the floor between the sofa and the coffee table.

Jaemin leans forward and looks down at you. You hold his gaze.

"Do you think I'm a child?" he asks you softly.

"I never said that," You reply.

"That's what Haechan said... he said that you think I'm a child. I mean... you did call me a kid. Different words, same meaning," Jaemin scoots to the edge of the couch, "Answer my question."

You lean into him, and he pulls back, "Answer. My. Question," he repeats firmly.

"I don't think you're a child, Jaemin. You're just younger than me and..." You trail off.

"And you feel funny about that... don't you?" he says.

You nod, "More times than not, yes. I feel very funny about it," You concede.

Jaemin takes your hand and holds it to his chest, "You shouldn't. I know I don't feel any ways funny about wanting you," his voice is calm and alluring.

"Why not?" You ask him.

"Because I'm very confident that I can give you everything that you want and need." You hold his gaze and scramble to your knees.

He takes your other hand and holds it to his face, "Do you want me to prove it to you?"

You navigate your way to the space between his legs then raise up to kiss him.

He brings his arms to circle around you, "You didn't answer my question. You're so bad at interviews, Y/n. Should I prove it to you or should I call you a cab and then kick you out?" he chuckles and his tongue slowly drags across your bottom lip.

After the countless hours you've accumulated from interviewing him, you know his humor all too well and you also know that by the way he's secured his arms around you, he doesn't have it in him to let you go much less make you leave.

You shiver and give him a soft smile, "Yes... prove it," You whisper.

He kisses you hard and brings a hand up to cradle your cheek. It's intense and he holds you in place as he slowly eases his hand down past your chest, past the valley of your breasts, down your stomach, "Wanna tell me how you want it or do I have permission to… hmmm…"

His hand dips into your panties and his fingers nestle softly between your folds, "That's for me? Wow, baby… I like this. I like this a lot." His fingers circle your clit slowly.

Your eyes flutter shut and your hips follow the rhythm of his fingers, "Jaemin…" You moan.

Jaemin smiles playfully, "Who's the man?" he laughs.

Even in this tense and heated moments, he has to tease you just as he always does.

"Jaemin… oh God…." You chuckle in between moans.

He presses a kiss to your neck, "I'm God?" he hums, "That's a bit much… my fingers got you feeling that good?"

He slides two fingers into your pussy and he presses upward; it barely takes him a second to find your spot.

You fling yourself onto him, "Fuck! Jaemin, oh God, oh God, oh… Jaemin… fuck! You are!" You whimper and he just laughs.

"Do you still think I'm a child, noona? Huh? Could I be soaking this pussy if I wasn't a man?" His voice is oozing with pride.

You whine and rut against his hand.

Jaemin takes his free hand and gently grips your chin. He locks eyes with you, "Answer me, beautiful… tell me what you already know. C'mon… say it or I'll stop."

You whimper, "You're a man… God… you are."

Jaemin tuts, "Of course but am I your man?"

You nod furiously, "Yeah… you are."

You want so badly to burry your face into the firmness of his chest but you can't tear your eyes away from his.

He smiles, "C'mon, pretty girl. Stand up for me,"

You scramble to your feet and Jaemin lifts your dress to drag your panties down your legs. He looks up and his eyes meet yours.

He smiles, "You can't take your eyes off of me," he purrs.

You're barely able to step out of your panties before he's pulling you down to straddle his lap. His cock presses against your pussy and you whine, "Jaemin, please."

You raise up and he quickly loosens his belt then opens his jeans. You hands clumsily help and you stand for a moment to push his jeans down.

You find your place on his lap once more and you slowly sink down on his cock. Your breathing hitches as he stretches you.

"You feel so fucking good, baby " he sighs.

His hands hold your hips as he fucks you slowly.

"Take… your shirt off. Wanna touch you... Wanna touch you so bad," You plead.

Jaemin quickly removes his shirt and you admire the sheer mass he's put on and silently thank whoever his personal trainer is.

"Your turn. Take that dress off for me," he says.

You don't hesitate to take the dress off and throw it to the side.

Jaemin cups your tits through your bra, "I want this off too," he sighs as he reaches around to unclasp your bra and you shimmy out of it.

His mouth hungrily kisses and mouths at your nipples as you begin riding him. He brings a hand up to wrap around your throat, "I'm not a child, right? You don't think that anymore, do you?" he asks you with mock innocence as you both writhe against each other.

You shake your head, "N-no… no, baby," You whine.

Jaemin sighs, "Really? 'Baby'? C'mon, sweetheart… Try again," he whispers into your ear.

"I-I… I uh… Jaemin, please… harder, faster- I need more," You cry.

"You need more, beautiful? Then tell me... who's your daddy? Huh? Can you tell me that?" he whispers and rolls his hips to hit you deep inside.

"You are! You are! Oh my God… daddy... please."

Jaemin laughs low and deep against your ear, "That's right... such a good girl."

You ride him desperately and he thumbs at your clit as you do. You feel your orgasm approaching like a freight train and you cry out, "Oh! Jaemin! Yes, yes, yes, yes... God, yes..."

He kisses you roughly, "Can I cum in that pussy, beautiful? I wanna fill you up," he pants.

You nod and he keeps rubbing your clit.

"Fuck!" You scream into his shoulder. "Baby... fuck... take it for me," he moans. He continues fucking into you until he can't go on anymore and you collapse against him.

Jaemin's hand strokes your back, "Alright... now get out," he laughs breathlessly.

You laugh too and he hugs you close. He hasn't pulled out yet and you know that once he does then you'll both be forced to get up and shower.

You both remain flaccid on the sofa and Jaemin breaks the silence,

"Noona, neomu yeppeo..." He sings softly.

#neoculturecollectives #nct #nct smut #nct dream #nct dream smut #nct hard thoughts #nct hard hours #ambw nct #ambw smut #nct ambw #ambw kpop #jaemin smut #jaemin #na jaemin #kpop smut #kpop ambw #jaemin ambw

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ian-loves-fanfiction · 8 months

Text

Well

I finally finished I See You, Sundrop! by @shirajellyfish

Slight spoily warning!

It is 1:14 in the morning as I write this (editing about a day later) and I have my first day of my senior year of high school tomorrow, but I just had to get all of my thoughts out while they were fresh.

I have never, never hyperfixated on a fanfic so hard. I've never read 400k+ words of a single fic in under a week. Somehow I managed to do that and have time to draw fanart (something I'm pretty sure I've only done once before for a fic, actually) and do my irl life shit.

How, you may ask? By continuously staying up into the wee hours of the morning :D (like 4-6am type shit, don't recommend it even if I think it was personally worth it).

I think I was so hyperfixated on the fic that I honestly didn't absorb the emotions like I should have? I felt things, surprise, excitement, a Sense of Impending Doom (/hj), but I don't think I really felt them.

I was probably a little more dissociated while reading than I usually am lol. I was so absorbed that some things barely registered. I am 100% going to have to re-read everything.

At one point I worried the fic wouldn't have a happy ending. Doesn't have the "angst with a happy ending" tag afaik and it got much worse before it got better. Saw a comment on one of the end notes and was reassured thankfully TvT. I'm very happy everyone is ok.

Love how the after ending note basically boiled down to "everyone is fine and Felix finally got some sleep" lol.

This fic was just. So good. Riley is such a dynamic character, so awesome and so cool. I really want to headcanon them as autistic (some of their behaviors just. They just. It's hard to explain, but if you're autistic too I bet you probably felt it, just a lil. They got the vibes /hj) but I know some authors can be kinda iffy about people headcanoning their OCs (which I get).

It was really cool to see an honest to goodness nonbinary character, a full character and not a self insert or y/n (no shade, I love y/n stories too). It was just cool to see a complete OC, and I love that it was all platonic, even if Sundrop did catch a little bit of feelings.

Honestly I relate so much to that, as someone who gains and loses crushes pretty fast. I'm happy it stayed platonic though and Sunny wasn't hurt or stuck pining or something silly. Plus his absolute embarrassment and mortification at his slip up was pretty funny. Might try to draw it, if I have any left over motivation (the bottom of this post sure is interesting hint hint).

Update as I'm editing this about a day later: I can't stop thinking about this fic. It was just so good! I already want to re-read it but I know I should give it at least a little time so I don't burn myself out. This fic was probably the best story I've ever read. Period. Even better than the published books I've read.

Honestly without spoiling any more than I already have, read it. If you like the DCA, read it. If you like cool nonbinary characters and great platonic relationships, read it. If you like a plot that sneaks up on you before hitting you in the feels like a truck, read. It. Do it. It's sososo worth it, I promise you.

If anyone has some good fics to read (completed preferred but actively updated ones work too) PLEASE FEED ME. Now that I'm done with ISYS I am desperate for more DCA fics. I've read so many and I n e e d m o r e.

Bonus fanart to celebrate my completion I guess(?), embarrassed Sun boy!

I guess I just really like drawing embarrassed boyos. Sorry if it looks weird, I've never drawn a pose like this before :P

Shira if you're reading this, thank you. Your fic was just fantastic. Also thank you for helping me get out of my art block! I had it for the whole month of ArtFight (sadge) but I'm so happy to have some motivation again. Thank you.

#ian's shitty art #art #drawing #fnaf security breach #fnaf dca #fnaf sb #fnaf sun #sun fnaf #fnaf daycare attendant #holy shit shira you really done made the best fic I've ever read huh #you Do Not Understand how much I appreciated ISYS #i really needed that hyperfixation rn #thank you #so much

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ddoxhan · 2 years

Text

gray ashes

i'm sorry.

word count : 0.7k words

genre : angst, when you realize love isn't a road full of flowers; fem!reader

tw : profanities, degradation (kids, don't look down on people)

a/n : wrote this while I was really obsessed with 'anti-romantic' and I could relate so much to the lyrics :3 enjoy !!

"do you believe in love at first sight?"

"i do actually, ironically."

"why would you say that?"

"well, i don't believe in love."

"oh, that does sound odd."

"the former was me back then and the latter would be me now."

"i just don't anymore."

it dates back to my high school life. there was this one girl i liked a lot, you could say i actually loved her. but whatever, i don't really know whether i did.

"minjeong-ah, here's some water."

"thanks."

"you're doing great! you were really cool back there!"

"yeah, sure."

and i just stuck around her almost every day in school whenever i could and even after school. she hated me and i thought maybe, i could change her mind one day.

"i like you minjeong!"

"..."

"i'm sorry. i don't want to give you false hope."

"i-it's okay, sunbae! m-maybe you-"

"i won't change my mind."

"give me a chance! you won't know if you don't let me try."

"suit yourself."

but that never happened.

i did everything i could, every day for a whole year. but she never lost her stance. and i lost myself.

i truly believed that i could get her to reciprocate my feelings for her. i really did. the hope-driven me. though she never gave them to me.

when she would finish training, I'd prepare warm water as she hated having cold drinks after, saying it's bad for the body. when she loved strawberry-filled bread and almond milk, i would run to the store to get them because they run out real quick.

can't believe i still remember the details about her. i guess i really did love her then. don't you think she was a little dull to not push me away when she saw how much i liked her? however, it wasn't her fault in the first place.

i bet you're just thinking how foolish it was for me to keep pestering someone who clearly rejected me. well, i guess that's the charm of falling in love. nothing can come in the way of your love. except for the person you love.

i was really selfish. i only saw myself throughout that journey. how i felt, how i thought, how i could be her soulmate. but never once then about how she felt, how she thought, how things were tough for her. because of me.

all i ever wanted was receive a small bit of what she gave her. even if it was just the attention to what i say. even if it was just her eyes on me. even if it was just her.

i knew she just dated her to get me off of her. i was determined, way too hella determined. things went on for some time. she still kept her and i still stuck on her. maybe she grew impatient, perhaps even annoyed, perhaps those feelings turned into hatred. even i would have, thinking back, to be honest.

she bursted. whatever mean things she could think of, she spat all of them at me. attention-seeker, dumb b*tch, leech. how i ruined her high school life, how she hated to come to school because of me, how she attracted such an ugly piece of shit.

i think that was what was needed. both her and i. she was done with me and i lost myself amidst the love. after that day, i stopped. stopped following her, stopped contacting her, stopped anything that had to do with her.

but i know best that it shouldn't have even started. the moment she rejected me, i should have just put these feelings aside and call it a day.

though, i thank her a lot. for letting me know how much of a fool i've been and how love wasn't worth it. and it still isn't. which is why i don't believe in love anymore.

it is pure bliss and cotton candy clouds until you take the wrong path down the lane.

this is something I look back at and just smile. a bittersweet smile yet relieved, that we both weren't suffering anymore and going on with our lives. i wonder how she's doing, and wishing her all the best sincerely. i would like to borrow this time to send her a message.

the same words she last said to me on that day.

"i'm sorry."

#winter #kim minjeong #aespa #aespa angst #aespa imagines #aespa scenarios #aespa x reader #winter x reader #Spotify

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isaacapatow · 3 months

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with @clintbennet | the prom : the roads to addiction converge in redwood

ike apatow: -as much as ike's exhilarated by crowds and parties, everyone needs a breather, and he spots somebody who might need the same thing, making his way over to Clint- Hey there, bayou -- feel like talking a stroll with me to recharge? That corner of the garden's nice. There's little flowers I don't know the name of but they taste good if you eat 'em and nobody's looking.

Clint Bennet: -Brows raise over his cup as he takes a sip and notices Ike approaching him. He laughs into the whiskey at the nickname Ike gave him.- What, yer batteries runnin' low already? -He teased, lowering the cup and letting it hang from his fingertips at his side as he approached ready to join him. His head cocks at the description of the flower- Is Mayra growin' honeysuckle in there? * -He guessed-*

ike apatow: Beats me. Maybe you can identify it for me. -Ike lifts his chin to point in the direction- These things are fun but I'm a little, ah ... contentious. Sometimes. With some folks.

Clint Bennet: I can try, but I'll probably git it wrong. -He admits, walking beside Ike to their destination. He takes a seat on the edge of one of the raised beds.- Really? -He questions, surprise in his voice.- Hard t'imagine anyone ruffling yer feathers, bossman.

ike apatow: -he tongues at the still-raw bite that Lucien had left on the inside of his bottom lip, tasting the blood there- You'll learn that about me, Clint -- I can piss off even the mildest dove. It's a gift. Maybe a gag gift, but a gift.

Clint Bennet: -He eyes the other noticing the unease about him.-Don't doubt that. I like you, but I can see ya bein' an acquired taste. -another small sip- M'surprise is you bein' bothered, not you botherin' others. Can't imagine anyone gittin' under that skin of yers.

ike apatow: Do I seem that way? Like I don't care what people think?

Clint Bennet: Carin' n' lettin it git t'you are two different things. I think you care, I just didn't think it would cause ya stress. Does it cause you stress?

ike apatow: -regards Clint for a few moments, a slight smile on his lips- I think it does cause me stress, yeah. Any guesses as to why?

Clint Bennet: -Watches the other, his question leaves him perplexed. A million different reasons pass through his mind but none of them seem to fit Ike. He gives a shrug of his shoulders in defeat.- 'm learnin' everythin' I assume about ya couldn't be further from th' truth. Why don't ya just tell me why.

ike apatow: -shrugs back, a little slumped and slow- I dunno, kid. Right now I feel like I can't trust my own perception of myself much.

Clint Bennet: -rests his forearms on his knees, not used to seeing the other man like this, he almost seems defeated in himself. He's not used to seeing this larger than life man so down, Clint's expression becomes serious, brows knit together in concern for the other.- What's yer perception of yerself now?

ike apatow: -a little sharply- I just fucking said I don't ... -he catches himself, with a slightly apologetic twitch of his mouth at Clint- I would drag you to the pond and hold you under for a rail of coke right at this moment.

Clint Bennet: -Lips formed a thin line at Ike's sudden sharp reaction at first but quicky relaxed. Despite his words, Clint didn't take Ike's words personally. In fact he breathed out a small laugh out of his nose at the thought of Ike holding him under the water.- That would be worth more than coke, let's make it horse instead. -He stands- I feel like ya need more space than this, I can't hear shit n' I can still hear th'bass of th'music. Unless y'wanna eat some flowers, do ya wanna go somewhere else... Maybe not near th'lake right now.

ike apatow: -nods, without much opposition- Sure. -his curiosity does spike a little through the other stuff, the prospect of Clint deciding what they should do or where they should go- You have somewheres you wanna take me?

Clint Bennet: -he thinks about it for a moment-Not anyplace in particular. Know that when I need space, walkin' helps, otherwise I feel trapped. Unfortunately our space is a lil limited, but laps exist fer a reason.* -He glances over to the other-* Y'sound like y'got a lot on yer mind. Know in yer past y'were used t'the tables bein turned, but I wanna help, if ya wanna git it out, I'll listen.

ike apatow: No, I'm ... -gestures vaguely as they start to walk- Not good at just talking. I'm good at answering. I know, that sounds ridiculous, given what I'm like, but it's true.

Clint Bennet: 'snot ridiculous. It makes sense, keeps focus. -He responds before he glances up trying to think of a question to ask, getting right into it might be a little too much, start from the start, the first thing that got him upset in the first place- Y'said there were folks y'weren't gettin' along with. What about 'em is stressin' you out?

ike apatow: -grunts in assent to this, finding it a good question- The fact that they don't bother to do the work in figuring shit out on their own, I guess. Even when I'm the one who got hurt, they're asking me how they should fix things.

Clint Bennet: -he watches and tries to process Ike's words- So, yer frustrated with them. 's more work on you havin' t'solve the problem they caused, yer feein' lik y'gotta think through that instead of them bein' able t'figure it out n' think things through. Does it feel like a burden?

ike apatow: Yeah. It feels like a burden and I don't think a lot of people understand how many burdens I got strapped on me at any given time. -gives Clint a cockeyed grin, though it's weary- I make it all look easy.

Clint Bennet: -gives a sad but understanding nod to the other. It makes sense, even he fell into that category with the man.- Y'got a ton on yer plate, riskin life 'n limb fer some canned goods, medicine, things th' community needs fer survival, n'keepin' the other raiders safe. -He confirms- Do y'think you gotta make it all look easy? Fer th'sake of others?

ike apatow: -shakes his head slightly- I think you got a calling in this. Ever think about it? Counselling? -but he can't stall too long and goes back to it, hemming and hawing- It's best if people don't know how hard it is, and what we risk out there. I know everyone's aware of the danger but I don't know how much they'd want us doing what we do if they had a full awareness of what it takes. -grins, of the shit-eating variety- Except me. There's plenty of people here don't care how much I take a lickin'.

Clint Bennet: -he huffs out a laugh, giving his own shake of his head.- Naw, don't think I'm even keeled enough fer that. But you, I think you n' I have enough in common t'understand each other. It's too easy fer us t'get stuck in our own heads. -He stops, watching the other carefully to try and actively catch every word that passes his lips- Protecting them from th'risks you n' th'others take every time y'go out fer supplies. -Clint might have been more familiar with it than most, working outside security and being on the other side of those walls for so long, he could see how others would lose perspective- Aren't there also plenty a' people that do care when y'get hurt?

ike apatow: Some. I'm not discounting them. They mean a lot to me. -he gnaws on the inside of his bottom lip, inadvertently reopening the marks of Lucien's teeth- Sometimes I think I'm not meant to be here. I don't mean that in, uh, a self-pitying way, or like I'm thinking of offing myself, it's just ... I have misshapen edges. Heroin always smoothed those for me. -eyes Clint for a minute- Y'know what I mean? You know what I mean.

Clint Bennet: I know what you mean... -Clint confirms simply, Ike's words hitting deep within his chest- I don't know how things were fer you... But I remember wanting every hit t'be my last... N' not in th'gettin' clean way either... I wanted t'go out feelin' at peace in whatever form that came, but th'next day, Id be down from th'high and life would hit me like a ton of bricks again up until th'point I got my next hit. -He takes a slow shaky breath- Th'drugs helped us feel like we were normal... But they're gone now, they're not comin' back, meanin' we're just stuck havin' t'deal with th'shit and everything that comes with it...-His eyes meet Ike's-People are unpredictable, difficult, our edges don't fit 95% of the time, but it doesn't mean you don't fit. You give yer blood, sweat, and tears t'the people here, you don't always have t'pretend like y'don't, that's a dark secret t'hide.

ike apatow: -he sticks his tongue into the corner of his lips, staring thoughtfully at Clint, and then steps closer and pushes his hand into Clint's shaggy hair- You were wrong, When we went on that raid and you told me this stuff about yourself, you made it sound like you hardly understood why you'd gotten hooked, why you were using. But you do, kid. You understand a helluva lot more clearly than I think you understand. -clenches his hand some, tightening his fist in Clint's hair- I don't think I can change anything about this, not for me. And even though I still think about using, I've been clean a long time. It's ongoing but it's not everyday, it's not in spitting distance. You can do better than me. You don't have to have any dark secrets. You shouldn't. -his voice has gotten more and more urgent, darker, intent, matching the look in his eyes-

Clint Bennet: -There seemed to be a moment of calm, Ike stepped closer and Clint didn't understand the reason why, thought maybe there were good intentions, but in the blink of an eye, Ikes fingers were tangled in his hair. He didn't know how to take it, eyes widened in confusion and a touch of fear.- I know why I used. Knew back then too. -There was an attempt to step back but Ike had him firmly in place, stopping him.-Didn't know you from Adam back then--His breath catches in his throat as Ike tightens his grip, pulling at his scalp, but he doesn't raise a hand towards the other, couldn't bring himself to do it.- Why don't you think y'can change anything fer yerself? What's different this time? -Eyes search the others, recognizing that haze of darkness that brought him back to his childhood- Y'wanna know m'darkest secrets? -He questions through gritted teeth, bringing his hand to the upper arm of the other. Everything in his body told him to stop but part of him only knew it was fair. Ike had shown him a lot of trust and hadn't taken advantage of him, he had shared his own struggles, if he wanted to know, he felt like Clint didn't have a reason to keep it from him-

ike apatow: I don't ... -Ike shakes his head slightly, frustrated at attempting to explain this- I don't think I'm hard to read. My motivations are pretty simple. But people have trouble figuring me out and maybe that's how it should be, maybe that's what makes this all work. Only a handful of people really get me, so, y'know. The rest can build me up or tear me down however they want. It doesn't matter. So long as it serves Redwood. -he loosens his fist slightly when Clint holds his arm, smoothing his thumb over the straw-coloured strands like a soothing pet, like an apology- Tell me. Go on. Tell me your darkest secrets.

Clint Bennet: -his eyes shifted between Ike's eyes and his lips- Used t'think you were hard t'read. People ain't used t'others not having an ulterior motive or dancin' around shit instead of gettin' t'the point, but yer pretty cut n' dry even when yer colorful about it. -he observed- before the world ended, dancin' 'round shit was the norm, feel like people are still used t' it -eyes met the others- why do you let others tear ya down? -when the other loosened hits grip, Clint could feel his shoulders relax, though his hand remained where it was, it was no longer threatening. Clint's fingertips traced from the man's upper arm, down his forearm and to his wrist, clasping it gently and lowering it away from his scalp, fingers absentmindedly felt the leather of one of Ike's many bracelets as he realized just how he backed himself into this corner - growin' up -he started after a long moment, struggling to organize his thoughts- I didn't really know safety or the feelin' of comfort, forget love. M'old man used m'brother n' I as punchin' bags n' things t'be thrown around whenever the mood struck. Home was... A place t'survive n'escape from but y' always had t'come back because y'had nowhere else t'go. It was m'pops that fucked up m'hearin' as a kid, thought he was gonna kill me. -though his words were clear, there was a sense of numbness in his voice, a disconnect behind his eyes, like he wasn't talking about his experience as if he lived it but was retelling it from an outsider's perspective. After he spoke, he realized his fingers were still loosely wrapped around Ike's wrist. He let go as he seemed to come back into himself. Eyes shifted away from Ike, a mix of shame and frustration showing on his features- Even after I was taken away from there, I couldn't ever feel safe. The sudden quiet put me in m'head a lot n' I hated it. Started usin' t'escape those dark thoughts n' this ache of not belongin', not deservin' anything other than what I was raised with.

ike apatow: -his eyebrows flicker when Clint asks a million-dollar question- People feel better about their lives if they can be assured there's at least one person who's way worse than them. So hey, if I fit the bill, whatever. Call it a psychological service to the town. I can handle it. -he's not bothered by Clint keeping hold of his wrist, being a person who likes physical contact; it helps when Clint starts talking about how he grew up. Ike listens, gaze scanning over the younger man's face as he relates what he's been through, the cruelties and traumas he's suffered, how he came to have his current disability and how that fed into his substance use- You were pretty much fuckin' trapped in it, huh? And god knows it's hard to tell if it's better or worse to be going through that with a sibling. -once most of the story's out, Clint retreats some, dropping Ike's hand; he lets the other man talk, then reaches out again, to clasp just above Clint's elbow- And how d'you feel now? When it comes to that, not feeling safe. Sometimes it helps, in a fucked-up way, that there's groaners all around, because we can point at 'em and say, that's danger, that's a threat, that needs to be destroyed. And not feel conflicted about it. -pauses, for a few moments- Were you conflicted about your old man, and how you felt about him?

Clint Bennet: -He didn't know how this happened, he was trying to help Ike and now he was on the hot seat, he was feeling exposed and vulnerable, the only saving grace was that this was Ike and not someone else. He gave a nod of his head at Ike's observation with his brother- Everythin' 'cept fer th'cage. Mike, he was able to run off when I was ten. Hurt a lot at th'time, but I came t'understand it pretty quickly. Turned inta envy until I was taken out, I still hope he was able t'find some happiness. -His eyes search Ike's when his hand reaches over and gently grasps his arm. His first instinct is always to pull away but with Ike his free hand reaches over, rests on top of the man's hand, remaining there, something he can ground himself to.- Varies... There's pockets of feelin' good, knowin' the enemy, feelin' secure, it took a long time when I first arrived but now those feelin's will last fer weeks, sometimes a month 'n then some. Then... I don't know, sometimes shit happens, sometimes it's nothin' at all n' I just feel m'self slippin', feel those walls comin' back up. I consider leavin', th'threat don't seem so clear no more, it takes a while t'clear m'head, push that shit back, start thinkin' with sense again. Then I just try t'keep that goin' as long as I can. -Shoulders shrug at the admittance, it's something he had never expressed aloud to even hear himself say. Brows furrow at Ike's question about his feelings about his father.- At first, yeah. Y'know, he was my dad, the person I was supposed to have trust in, the person who kept me n'my brother fed. When I was real small I didn't know what he was doin' was wrong, thought it was normal. Goin' t'school showed me that it wasn't. Told some classmates what was happenin' n' their reaction was all I needed t'know I need t' keep this shit t'm'self.

They kept away from me, like they were scared. My viewpoint changed on him then, he was the monster, th'thing t'hide from... But there was another part 'a me that thought this must be somethin' I deserve, me n'm'brother, we were bad, we were gettin' punished. -There's a pause as his voice cracks, at this point he felt like he couldn't stop himself- He would tell us that as he beat down on us, we were shitheads, worthless, we were the reason mom left 'n now he was stuck with us, we deserved it all n' then some. -He steps away from Ike now, the pain clear on his face as his eyes well up, he digs the heel of his palm into his forehead.- I ain't conflicted 'bout him. He was a bastard, after I was taken out, I got no idea what happened t'him n' I never wanna know. Woulda rather never been born than t'have t'go through that. -He glances at Ike again wiping his eyes with a frustrated grunt- Fuck, Ike... This was supposed t'be 'bout you... Yer not th'town punchin' bag. Y'don't deserve it. Just 'cause y'can handle it don't mean y'should have to. Yer a good man, Ike, fuck th'people who can't see that.

ike apatow: That's a pretty generous view to take, for your brother's sake. Lots of people never reach that point. -Ike can tell he's pushing against Clint's boundaries some, touching his arm, but when the other man puts his hand over Ike's, it's a good sign- Yeah. Even with things in Redwood being basically the Four fuckin' Seasons compared to other survivor settlements out there, it still sometimes gets bad inside. Inside your head, inside, I mean. I feel it too. But that's always been what it's like for me and it might be always like that for you too, man. There's a reason we call ourselves addicts even after being sober longer than we were using. -Clint shifts from the general, talking about day-to-day life, back to his father and it's about as ugly as it could be, driving Clint to have to put some space between them to keep himself from shaking apart- That's good. That you know how you feel about your dad, that he doesn't have a grip on you anymore. Even if it still fucks you up, it's clear-cut, and I dunno, maybe it sounds simplistic but in my book? Anything that you can be clear-cut about, it's one less thing that'll trip you up when you're dealing with all the rest.

-but Clint's changing tracks again, looking at Ike more focused on him past the trauma he'd been relating, and Ike shifts slightly, keeping his own discomfort confined to a shrug- What I deserve or don't deserve is a pretty wide fuckin' field, kid. I've done things ... beyond what most people with normal lives ever do. Some things I can't even begin to process and I'd never finish dealing with em. Where I grew up, everything was either penance or duty, and I guess... -Ike stops, his gaze skating past Clint, dotting back and forth before he says, half to himself- Y'know, you're like the fourth? Fifth? person who's made that comparison. The punching bag thing. -he looks at Clint again, before shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning back slightly, a smile just touching his lips- In the Bible -- I dunno how much you're into the Bible, but I was raised on it -- there were two goats, in the scapegoat story. One of em was straight out sacrificed to the Lord, killed right there on the altar. The other one, it got burdened with all the sins of the people, but it got to go free. Carrying the whole community's sins but it got to live, however it wanted, out in the desert for the rest of its life. The Azazel goat. -he does grin, then- Azazel goat's maybe not so bad a thing to be, compared to the alternative.

Clint Bennet: -He takes Ike's words to heart. The other seemed to completely understand where he was coming from, where he was at, though truth be told, he didn't necessarily feel like his dad didn't still have a grip on him. Maybe not in the way Ike mean it, but he could still hear his dad's voice, his words clear as day echoing through his mind in he quiet hours of the night, it wasn't unusual for him to wake and see his dad's figure standing in the room, just barely out of reach, he still had night terrors where he would only wake once he had thrown himself off the bed and onto the floor. He wasn't sure if he should bring that up, selfishly he wanted the attention off of him, after all Ike was the one he was there for, before his admittance, Ike was the one needing help.-

Simplistic... Yeah, I can git behind that. Easier t'manage. -His eyes searched the others as he began talking about himself again, mentioning the things he had done, to Clint it seemed like those things put a lot of weight on his mind, like he felt stained by what he had done in his past. There were words that Ike used that caught his attention, penance and duty, they didn't seem like a normal phrase Ike would use, they were too specific and dripping with religious intent but Clint decided to just put a pin on that in his mind, in case it came up again.- There ain't no saints in this world anymore, Ike, they're all long dead. We've all done shit, there ain't no normal person no more. We do shit we don't take any pleasure or pride from, try t'bury it down like it don't affect us because at th'end of th'day we gotta save our own fuckin' hides or the hides of those we care about. -Ike seems to go quiet mentioning the comment about being a punching bag.- Almost like a pattern people notice 'bout you. -A sympathetic smile crosses Clint's features again but seems to drop when Ike focuses on religion, Clint knowing it was important to pay attention.-

-As Ike explained Clint could see the comparison Ike was making about himself, like somehow he deserved it... No more than that, like it was his fate to take on that pain, like some destiny, the shift in his expression almost seemed accepting of it. This time Clint reaches out, takes a step towards the weathered man and grabs his shoulder firmly.- Is that what y'think you are? Like this is somethin' that just needs t'happen? Takin' that shit on is yer responsibility? -He holds Ike's gaze.- Do y'feel like no matter what y'do, that's all people are gonna see you as? That's all yer gonna see yerself as?

ike apatow: Easier to manage. Exactly. -he takes the time to let Clint say his piece, about the questionable deeds that most of them have done in order to survive since the zombie apocalypse, and it's not like Ike fully disagrees, but still there's some part of him that needs to say- There's some things that are objectively evil acts no matter if it's before time or now time, Clint. Nothing's ever gonna erase what I've done and -- I know it's complicated, most of the time when people do fucked up shit it's complicated. That still doesn't take away the harm I caused.

-Clint steps forward, though, after Ike's little parable about the Azazel goat, and his blue eyes are steady and clear when he asks his questions, unwavering with his hand on Ike's shoulder- In its own way? This makes me feel ... better's not the right word, but I haven't found the right word yet. It is penance and I should be paying penance and that -- everything I do, whatever I take on -- it's a slow slow trickle to balance the scales. That's how I see it. If I got weighed against my sins right now I'd be found wanting and there's a long road ahead of me to even just balance it, never mind making up for everything. -Ike shrugs, gaze skidding away from Clint's, up towards the sky- It's fine. I don't feel sorry for myself and I don't have a bad life. This, being here in Redwood doing what I do, it's better than a lot of the places I've been. I got people here who love me, who really love me, and that goes a helluva long way. -his gaze comes down again, settling on Clint- It's the same for you, too, isn't it? Even in the middle of the shitstorm and biters, this is the eye of the hurricane. This is ... safe. Of all the fuckin' things.

Clint Bennet: -Brows knit together in concern and confusion when Ike clarified that he did something he considered evil, again there were those religious undertones that Clint couldn't help but catch on to, he said he was brought up in it, maybe to a more extreme level than Clint had assumed, he got the feeling Ike didn't just go to church every Sunday and have a "choose your own adventure" Bible as a kid. He wondered if that was part of the reason Ike had this type of perspective and outlook about himself.- I git wantin' t'balance th'scale by doin' good things, tryin' t'be better, do better t'make up fer hurtin' people in th'past, cause there's no goin' back n' undoin' that, but- -He pauses for a moment trying to think of how to best phrase his thoughts.- I don't think that gives others th'right t'treat you like shit. That's what worries me, yer not a fuckin' goat from some biblical metaphor or whatever. Yer just a man, that's all any of us are, just people dealin' with our own shit just below th' surface. It don't mean we should bring others down. -His hand slides down to Ike's arm, but he still keeps the contact, his lips draw into a thin line as Ike continues, while Ike's eyes shift upwards, Clint still keeps his gaze on his face, a smile pulling at his lips when Ike mentions how loved he is, the tension releases from his shoulders slightly.- Yer loved Ike, admired, I don't know if this place would be th'same without ya.

-His eyes meet Ike's again. His question seemed so simple, but for Clint it was a little difficult to answer, he couldn't just come out and say yes. He breaks the contact with Ike with a shrug of his shoulders.- Safety, it's kinda like a double edged sword. When yer out there 'n in the shit, fightin' t'survive, y' ain't really got time t'think, yer just tryin' t'make it fer the next hour, th'next day. Here in this safety, y' got all this time t'be with yer thoughts, reflect, deal with them, a lot of th'time it ain't easy. I ain't sayin' I miss bein' out there. -He cocks his head towards the nearest perimeter wall- But, sometimes I miss that feelin' of not bein' stuck in m'head. I don't feel like I've found m'place here yet, I've met some great people, people I care fer deeply, like you, just tryin' t'figure how I fit into it all. -He takes a breath.- Fuck, don't know about you, I could use a cig right about now. -He laughs glancing up at Ike again.- I don't know what y'did in yer past that y'feel stained ya so much n' y'aint ever gotta tell me if y'don't want to, but I'm glad I've met ya, Ike, who you've become, who you are now, I'm real glad fer it.

ike apatow: Well, kid - these are all great sentiments, and I agree with you, but in real life when things are getting worked out in technicolour in front of a live studio audience? -Ike grins, a little wearily- It's not so clear-cut. If the people treating me like shit were also assholes, that would be one thing. When it's good sweet people who're better than me in all the ways that better gets measured? Call me Billy Goat Gruff. -he shakes his head with an accompanying lift of one shoulder, the grin softening into a smile at Clint as the other man goes on, kind words that Ike lets soak into him- Don't sweat it. I've been through a lot. I can handle this. I always find ways to handle whatever comes down the pike.

-Clint's problem with being in Redwood is a familiar one, and Ike nods, snickering when Clint mentions how good a cigarette would be now- Fuckin' ay, man. But that's the thing about recovery - you're stuck with you, wherever you go. So busy or not, you gotta find some way to live with all the clanging bullshit going on in the ol' noggin. -he reaches over to flick a fingertip against Clint's temple- If it's noisy, too noisy, so much that keeping yourself busy isn't cutting it, come talk to me. I was never anybody's NA sponsor or anything, I don't figure I have the right temperament for it, but I can be a good sounding board. Awright? It'd be good for me too, to be honest.

-the last few comments, delivered so genuine with a double dose of Clint's sky-blue stare, leaves Ike a little quiet for a moment, and then he leans over, balanced on one foot so he can nudge against Clint before going back to standing normally- Thanks. I don't... -he's at a loss, not sure how to respond to Clint's words, and settles on- It's good to know some people made it through all the shit to be here. To be in Redwood in this community we got for ourselves, carving out the new future. I'm glad you're in it too. -he gives Clint one more quick, tight-lipped but genuine smile with his gaze scanning over the other man one more time for good measure, and lopes off back towards the main party-

#with: clint #c: cli001 #event:prom #child abuse mention cw #addiction cw

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m0llystars · 6 months

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there's been a lot on my mind lately, in the past month especially with trying to be more active with my community n stuff, while balancing that with literally everything else, and it's made me think a lot still abt my work ethic. i tend to get so caught up in what i Haven't done yet, and trying to get that done as soon as possible, that i feel like i still make the mistake of focusing too much on the finish line rather than just enjoying the view as i go? yknow, its a marathon, not a sprint, etc. it's just interesting how rarely i'm in the headspace to actually acknowledge that.

this feels like the kind of thing i could probably go to therapy for tbh, if i could afford it/manage to get myself in a situation where that would be easy to pull off, but its made me realize that maybe i should do smth like making weekly or even daily to-do lists again. there's so much i Want to do, and not enough room or time for just my brain alone to keep track of it all without going into tunnel vision. quite genuinely i think i should just take it one day at a time.

it feels rlly obvious in retrospect, but i probably was so adverse to this approach because in the time i did attempt that before, i wasn't exactly in a place where i felt...really like actually enjoying my life in the day-to-day. i feel like there's times where taking it day by day is the better option, but it felt like for 2021-2022, and some of this year even, it was less about that, and more about just focusing on getting some shit done, a sense of "things could be better, and i want to be where things are better already". but i'm at a point now, where, i have a lot of what i was trying to aim for and achieve since years ago, even if stuff Still could be better, i already have a few things that are more than worth paying more close attention to. a community around my stuff that's rather active. some promising or otherwise just really interesting opportunities to be involved in other people's stuff. even getting somewhat in the groove to work on one of my more serious projects, not just thinking about working on them. yeah, obviously i could be quicker. and there's things like the patreon stuff, which feel more time sensitive, and i want to always get stuff out for that as much as i can. but i think this was a period where i kind of just realized i need to not think in the bigger picture so much.

a thing i preached abt in my last update video on molly m. was that in some way, you've always got time. even if things are hectic, you've always got time to some extent. and i think while in the beginning of the year, it reflected that in the sense that i always have time to figure things out, and do the stuff i want to do, right now i think i want to apply it through the lens of "i have more than plenty of time to just stop and look at the flowers for a while before getting back to figuring stuff out further". i was in a lot of incredibly dense woods before, but i'm at an open field now, and i may as well take the moment to appreciate what i can see while i still see it. at least, i think that's what's better currently.

#rambles

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oldgooddaysoldgooddays · 1 year

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288

On Sunday there is new graffiti in Shoreditch which I pass on my way to the studio. It’s not one of those tragic feats of hipster craftsmanship better suited to an NFT or vape store or Miami, but rather a hurried scrawl reading “I farted during yoga”. The “a” in “yoga” has a long chaotic tale, perhaps the work of someone on a bike or sprinting, spray can in hand. A while ago there was a similarly urgent-looking message a couple of streets over which said “covid fucked my life”. In my mind both are by the same author, perhaps someone for whom shit-posting on Twitter is no longer catharsis enough Speaking of respiratory illness, I have a cold. On the rare occasion I catch one, I always wonder whether connecting with other people in rooms is worth it, and begin making demented assessments of the previous couple of weeks’ hangouts, cursing myself for not calculating risks better. I forget how grim it is to ail every time, and I forget how carefully I have to choose the foods I eat during these times because historically my brain associates whatever I dine on with disease and bam, I can’t deal with popcorn or cucumbers for weeks after I tell R I’ve been in a battle with myself about how much backing track is acceptable in a live performance. Do I insist every part is played or approximated by hand to satisfy the purists (really just one imaginary baby boomer) and accept the result sounding worse? Or do I cave lightly to the backing track, leaving a fuller sound but an emptier heart, a sense of failure? The battle is eventually settled by watching 100 gecs, a band N and I are fast becoming diehard fans of, play live around the US on YouTube. Not an instrument in sight, just two dyed-blonde 20 year olds with vocal effects running through their microphones and a backing track straight out of a Gen Z karaoke bar. I figure my set up is at least more hands-on than this. Fuck it. Cue the digitised guitar stems for Child’s Pose. I never thought I would have this problem. All my dreams now involve sexual rejection by a comedian or encountering some logistical problem with my live set. I forget the in-ears, my drummer gets acid reflux, Hitler is in the audience, people are late I go to make calls on raw plaster in my future living room and try to hide my nasal drip from the restoration experts. I send M a tweet I found saying “don’t forget to leave milk and cookies out for Women”. B sends a Food Disgust Quiz and I take it, choosing agree-disagree answers to bizarre statements like “I cannot control myself when I see a suckling pig” and “eating an apple my friend has just touched is unforgivable” and “an insect in my meal is absolutely fine”. I lie in the bath and think about how Jeffrey Dahmer’s apartment must’ve smelled, how he probably stopped noticing it after a while. Once I get out the bath I know I will feel like garbage again. Confucius said “a healthy man wants a thousand things, a sick man only wants one”

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thomas-anonymous-nyc · 1 year

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February 9, 2023

10:45pm

I’m at WashComm. I did some programming today. I ran, was going to dance at BK. I don’t want to have to be out at places in order to be productive... there’s something about being able to stay in. Do I actually desire to stay i and not spend money? A-cher is a block away from me, that boss of a woman. I want that, to have that, be with that.

Something is not right here, man. I’m still doing these things. One one hand, yes, very powerful.

- In some way, I can feel myself wanting to hold this even though I know it’s impossible and it’s not something I want to hold going into the future - I like going and drinking ginger beer + bitters. And I did legit work... would I have been able to do that at home? Should I find out? Maybe it would be good for me to, yes, go in hard mode like that - You know you’re writing this out because you shouldn’t do this. What, it’s March 9th and you see yourself still slipping? I want to be A-cher’s husband. You want to dance and do good work. And I’m still out here among other people. It’s totally a thing I have.

I can do this with n/a beers. I’m going to do it without it though. I’m thinking of the Other Half I had over at B-Lows. I didn’t need that. I didn’t need this. But I’m still... kind of on a, “am I really doing this?” streak. I commit to it and it’s not an issue, right?

But at the same time, programming at bars drinking n/a beer. What, to see people? Really, to see people? I don’t care about these people. And often it feels pretty shitty anyway. I’d rather just... be on my way.

I think I”m in love with A-cher. I want her, to see her. I want to dance and make peace with with my dancing. I want to make peace with my programming and art. I want to not get too lost.

I can reset my evenings, man. So let’s make a commitment here and now:

- I’m on a goal to post-Abe bootcamp - No reddit - Working on things in the evening, I can only go to BK Museum/Star Tuesdays for N/A beer - There’s... a deadline for this! I can see how my mind is after a while. I can change my mind. Changing my mind takes some commitment. But it’s totally worth it - In the end, hit my times man. I’m an essential employee basically. Put in my hour of dance, my hour of extracurricular shit. Just do it. If I need to make up some time during a sprint then do it. But knowing every day I’m going to do the same thing is so powerful

What did I even want to think about? I was thinking about... what dances I want to do.

It’s 11:17pm, 32 minutes after I started this entry. Which really goes to show you: it’s all about putting things off, you know. All about that.

It’s 12:01am. I’m at the alcoholics bar, man. You know... that’s just how it works

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happypuppys · 3 years

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hmmm

#sorry lol m kinda havin bad thoughtz rn !!!#n m feeling shit about myself and my worth to people !!!#not me thinking i was ACTUALLY going to be happy tonight lol #m jsut. m shaking rn i dont know if anything will come out right #but jsut. i feel so fucking shit #i feel like. i feel like all my friendz would be better off if i was dead #i feel like they would be so much happier not having to deal with my #and i think my bf would be so much happier if they didnt have to deal with my suicidal fucking self #m jsut.#m not going to kill myself because im too afraid of death im too afraid of what it is like when im not certain of anything #but im having a fucking panic attack and nothing feelz right nothing feelz real #vent #dont rb #m sorry #suicide tw #derealization tw

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subbykboys · 3 years

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new to this | taeyong

↳ pairing : virgin!taeyong x reader

Genre ➞ pure smut oof

Warnings ➞ sub!taeyong, corruption kink, begging, mild degrading, handjob, fingering (m. receiving), public-ish(?), mild choking, running into walls

Word Count ➞ 8.3k

requested by @ninachocoo

posted ; 3.08.21

Hot. God, it was so hot.

Then again, summer in your part of town always was. But this heat— this heat was different. It surrounded you, pulling perspiration from your pores and clinging to you persistently. It spilled down your throat, filling your lungs with every deep inhale. It robbed you of any and all of your energy, leaving you too tired to rouse yourself from where you lay on the cool tile floor of your kitchen in front of the open fridge (the absolute coldest spot you could find in your entire house).

You didn’t cope very well in warm weather, if that wasn’t obvious.

And, at the cost of your poor housemate’s sanity, you always found new and creative ways to cope with the excruciating rise in temperature,

“Y/n a few of my— how many times do I have to tell you to stop doing that?!” You couldn’t bring yourself to so much as flinch as the fridge door was abruptly slammed shut, only managing to pull a whining complaint from the back of your throat as your only source of cool air was ever so rudely ripped away.

“Fuck you, Mark. It’s too fucking hot to worry about the stupid electricity bill.” You huffed, peeling your eyes open just long enough to shoot an icy glare in the direction of the scowling brunette.

He crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly, lower lip jutting out. “I think you forget that it’s a combination of both of our money going into paying them, so I think that I have a right to worry about how much is coming out of my pocket because you think that laying in front of an open fridge is a good way to ‘beat the heat’.”

“Offer me a better solution, I’m open to suggestions.” You sighed tiredly.

He only rolled his eyes.

“Oh! I’ve got one,” you exclaimed suddenly, clapping your hands together as a gasp of excitement flew from your lips, “How about I just strip down and walk around butt ass naked? That should do the trick! Oh… but little Mark would like that a little too much, wouldn’t he?” You offered him a taunting pout, feigning sympathy as you glanced down unabashedly towards his crotch.

Instinctively, his hands flew to cover himself as his cheeks throbbed a devastatingly obvious shade of red, bright enough to rival even the ripest of tomatoes. “Y–you—”

Your lips curled with an amused smirk, but it faltered at the sound of thundering laughter coming from behind your flustered housemate. Your eyes followed the sound, finding its source in a group of about five or so men crowding up the foyer. Brows lifting in mild surprise, you shifted your attention back to an even more humiliated looking Mark.

“You brought company.” An apology hung at the tip of your tongue. You really tried to keep your pg-13 teasing to a minimum around other people, especially knowing how susceptible Mark could be to his own embarrassment.

“Hey Mark, I thought you said your roommate was a raging asshole with the sex drive of a teenaged boy on viagra? She seems pretty cool to me! And hot.” One of the taller boys chimed, a massive dopey grin plastered across his face.

You turned to Mark slowly, brows raised. But he wouldn’t meet your eyes, head lowered. He wasn’t good at hiding his guilt.

Welp. No apology for ole Marky boy today.

“Please, allow me to properly introduce myself to our company.” Mark's eyebrows jumped all the way to his hairline as you pushed yourself off the floor and tossed an arm around his shoulder. “My name is (y/n), but I suppose Mark's asshole roommate with the sex drive of a teenage boy on viagra could work, too.”

The look you shot him out of the corner of your eye had him shrinking in on himself, regret shining in his big brown eyes. But, you ruffled his hair, a silent reassurance that you weren’t all that torn up about the comment, especially considering it was hard to deny the layer of truth that lingered within it.

You’d probably subjected Mark to more than his fair share of sleepless nights while you were up into the early morning giving the man (or woman) of the night the experience of a lifetime. A few scathing comments to close friends was more than understandable when looked upon in that light. Besides, you were never good at holding a grudge against your sweet, awkward, puppy-eyed housemate.

The tall one that had spoken before chimed in eagerly, “I’m Yukhei, but my friends call me Lucas. Xuxi works, too. Or papi if you're feeling especially— ow!” Lucas yelped loudly as a hand connected to the back of a head with a sharp smack. You watched in amusement as another tall, charming looking man tugged him back, shooting him a warning glare before turning his attention to you.

“Ignore him. He has a bad habit of forgetting his manners around attractive women. My name's Johnny, it’s great to finally meet you.” The sweet, disarming smile he offered you had any reservations melting away, and you easily returned the gesture before he proceeded with introductions. “This Haechan, Jaehyun, Doyoung, and— Taeyong?”

Johnny pivoted around, brief confusion settling across his face before he spotted whoever he’d been looking for. Reaching behind Lucas, he grabbed someone's arm, tugging them into your line of sight.

“And this is Taeyong!” He concluded with a grin, slapping a large hand down on the shorter boy’s shoulder. Taeyong dipped his head shyly, not meeting your eyes as he murmured a soft greeting that you were just barely able to catch. Soft tufts of dirty blonde hair fell over large brown eyes as he bowed politely, the air of meekness unmistakable.

Oh, he’s cute.

Your lips curled into an impish smirk. “Hi, Taeyong.”

A faint blush darkened his cheeks and you caught a hint of a smile upturning the corners of his mouth.

Really cute.

Mark knew you well enough to see the gears beginning to turn in your head and coughed loudly when your stare lingered longer than necessary.

“O-kay, now that you’re all acquainted…” he stepped in swiftly, opting to intervene before you could get any wise ideas about his friend. “We have got a group project to work on and it would be extremely helpful if you’d refrain from providing any distractions. I already have a hard enough time trying to get them to focus for longer than five minutes as is.”

“Aww but I wanna hang out with your hot roommate, Mark.” Lucas whined loudly, practically throwing himself across Mark’s shoulders as the cutest pout you’ve probably ever seen fell across his lips. “She’s got a way nicer ass than any of you guys.”

Doyoung sighed, his face screwing in second hand embarrassment for his friend’s shameless behavior. “Lucas, please.”

“Have some dignity, man.” Haechan huffed additionally and you grinned in amusement as he grabbed the collar of Lucas’s shirt and began tugging him towards the living room.

“Don’t worry, Mark. I’ll stay out of the way. I would hate to hinder your geek fest.” You teased, wrinkling your nose as you stepped past him.

“Thank you, (y/n). I really— wait, Geek f– it’s a project worth thirty percent of our final grade!”

“To-may-to, to-mah-to.” You waved a dismissive hand over your shoulder, before pausing briefly. Spinning on your heels, you turned back to face

the cute boy, who visibly jolted the moment your attention landed on him. “It was very nice meeting you, Taeyong.”

“Y- you, too.” He stuttered sweetly and you had to fight the overwhelming urge to reach over and pinch those adorable pink cheeks. Either pair.

With one last sultry smile, and a wink just to fuck with Mark a little, you sauntered back into your bedroom. Miraculously, you were no longer concerned with the previously unbearable heat plaguing your apartment. Now, you had something —or rather, someone— far more interesting to occupy your mind.

Taeyong was having a difficult time focusing, which was pretty out of ordinary. He had barely gotten anything done with his assigned part of the project, less than half a page filled out with what little information he managed to collect. Luckily, none of the other guys seemed to notice, too distracted by their own inabilities to focus to take notice of his. Otherwise he would have to concoct some lie. But he wasn’t good at lying. He was a terrible liar, in fact. So he would probably just end up blurting out the truth which was you. You were the reason he couldn’t focus. You with your mischievous eyes and your pretty smile and intoxicating laugh. Mark’s asshole roommate with the sex drive of a teenage boy on viagra.

He’d seen pictures of you before. But they didn’t do you any justice. In pictures, you were pretty. In real life, you were beautiful, charming, witty, sexy, and you winked at him. Girls don’t wink at him. Not ever. But you had. You’d winked and smiled at him and he wasn’t sure if you were just teasing him because he flustered easily or if there was a chance it meant something a little more than that.

… he secretly hoped it meant something a little more than that.

But he shouldn’t be thinking about you right now. He should be thinking about finishing his research. Not your eyes. Not your smile. Not your voice of the way you purred his name and those shivers rushed down his spine and he could have sworn something twitched— okay. That’s enough. He really needed to splash some water in his face, cool down a little before his mind wandered to places it definitely should not.

“Ah— Mark?”

The younger boy lifted his head, brows raising. “’Sup?”

“Where’s the bathroom?”

He perked, tipping his chin forward. “Oh, it’s to the right of the k— shit, wait. That toilet’s busted. Um, just use the one in my room. It’s at the end of the hall.”

“Thanks,” Taeyong pushed himself up with a soft grunt, nearly tripping over Yukhei’s long legs as he maneuvered himself around the cluttered coffee table, “I’ll be right back.”

None of the other guys took much notice of how quickly he rushed out of the room, much to Taeyong’s relief. He let out a low breath the moment he turned the corner and found himself in a vacant hallway, but that relief was short lived.

Mark had only said that his room was at the end of the hall. But, there were two doors at the end of the hall. Meaning one of them could possibly lead to your room. And you were in your room. Which meant if he walked through the wrong door on accident… he could walk in on you. Oh god. Heat rushed into his cheeks at the mere thought of such a humiliating occurrence. For a moment, he debated turning on his heels and returning to the living room.

But, he wasn’t ready to go back to studying just yet. He was still feeling flushed and antsy and needed another moment or two to himself. Plus… he was actually starting to need to pee a little. Damn him and his tiny bladder.

Hesitating, he gently knocked on the door on the right side of the hall then waited ten seconds. No response. Just to be extra certain, he knocked twice more before finally turning the knob. Cautiously, he peeked his head inside. The black out curtains were drawn tight so the room was dark, too dark to make out anything defining outside of the vague shape of a bed and dresser tucked into the far corner. It took a few minutes of stumbling blindly through the inky blackness, tripping over clothes and extension wires until he found what he hoped to be the bathroom door.

Without too much of a second thought, he opened the door.

Then he froze.

He thought it was Mark’s room. He really did. He thought he was tripping over Mark’s clothes and Mark’s wires. Though, he probably should have noticed the light coming out from beneath the bathroom door, indicating that someone might be inside. Or maybe he did but ignored it because– because maybe Mark just left the light on. That could have happened. That totally could have happened.

But it didn’t.

Because it wasn’t Mark’s room. Those weren’t his clothes or his wires and he didn’t leave the light on.

He realized this all too late of course. Because now he was staring at you. You who was wet and naked and… wet and naked. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He could only stare, dumbstruck, mind short circuiting as billowing steam curled around the shape of your body like an iridescent veil, beautiful skin glistening under the soft golden light. Your head was tipped back, lips slightly parted, hands soothing your slick hair out of your face as the hot water cascading down the swells of your

breasts and over the curves of your shoulders.

It was like watching something out of a pornographic shampoo commercial.

“Oh—” it was somewhere between a whine and gasp, strangled and broken by the time it escaped his trembling lips. It was so quiet, you shouldn’t have been able to hear it over the hiss of water. So it took him off guard when your eyes opened and flicked in his direction.

He flinched, body jolting backwards like it intended to make a break for it, but it was like your stare locked him into place. His brain was screaming at him to do something; to move, to turn away, close his eyes, apologize, bash his head against the freaking wall, literally anything but stand there staring at you with his mouth open like a complete idiot. But he couldn’t.

The corner of your mouth curled, forming into a downright devilish smirk that sent hot tendrils of desire spiraling through his veins. Then you quirked a brow and it was like a burst of electricity bringing him back to life. His hands flew up from where they’d been frozen at his sides, slapping so hard over his eyes that he yelped in shock at the sting.

“Ohmygod I- I am so sorry! I am so—” he whirled around, spewing high pitched apologies as he scrambled for the door. Only, his eyes were closed so instead of bolting out the door he face planted into the wall next to the door. “Ow!”

Your low laughter rippled through the small bathroom and red hot embarrassment raced up his neck and into his face. He could only whimper out one finally strained apology as he clutched his throbbing nose and stumbled back into the darkness of your bedroom, slamming the door sharply behind him.

By the time he’d managed to scramble back into the hall, Taeyong felt like he was on fire. His heart was beating wildly in his chest and he was certain if he dared to look in a mirror he’d be the equivalent of a tomato.

Humiliation gripped at his throat, squeezing painfully around his airway every time he recalled the previous events. He’d never be able to face you again. Not after that train wreck. Not ever. Groaning distraughtly, he sank against the wall, silently wishing that the floor would just swallow him up and put an end to his suffering.

But, there was something worse than the embarrassment. Something hotter and harder, throbbing shamelessly in the confines of his suddenly far too jeans. He saw you naked— wet and naked, looking like a freaking goddess beneath the stream of hot water, soap suds still clinging to your skin. He had never seen a woman like that before. Not in person, at least. And none as beautiful as you.

Biting his lip, he squeezed his legs together, trying his best to will away his progressively hardening erection. That, of course, did not work. And it didn’t help in the slightest that every time he so much as blinked, the image of you in the shower came rushing to the forefront of his mind, still fresh and vivid and devastating.

Oh god. There was no was no way he could go back to working on the project now. If he thought he was being unproductive before— he probably wouldn’t be able to get a single legible word written with the image of you and your body burned into the back of his eyelids.

He was doomed.

And he still needed to pee.

Damnit.

It was about nine at night when the low voices transformed into booming laughter, the walls practically vibrating under the barrage of stomping feet. It didn’t take a genius to deduce that they’d finished up on their project— either that or they mutually reached the end of their attention spans.

Regardless, you were bored of remaining cooped up in your bedroom merely for the sake of your roommate’s econ grade and needed to stretch your legs a bit. Not to mention you were beginning to crave something greasy and unhealthy. You were almost certain the group of college boys lounging in your living room wouldn’t be opposed to some pizza, fries, and milkshakes from your favorite delivery place.

“I don’t know about you boys but I’m starving!” You sang brightly as you all but skipped into the room. All eyes swung to you, wide and stunned as they watched you waltz over to where Mark sat in the love seat and throw yourself into his lap like it was the most normal thing in the world. He grunted under your weight, lip curling in annoyance but wrapped his arms securely around your stomach nonetheless. You pretended not to notice the lingering eyes of one particular boy, meticulously curled into the farthest corner of the couch. “Anyone down to order?”

“Ugh please!” Yukhei exclaimed, throwing his head back dramatically. “I am dying of hunger.”

The others were eager to voice their own agreement and you turned to Mark with an expectant smile. “Rubio’s?” He asked, already reaching for his phone.

“Read my mind.” You hummed, pinching his cheek until he hissed and swatted you away.

It was nothing short of chaos trying to get everyone’s orders, multiple overlapping voices making it hard to discern exactly who was asking for what, but somehow Mark managed to place all of the requests with only a handful of difficulties. Well, all but one.

“Taeyong.”

The boy’s head jerked up so fast at the sound of his name that you were surprised you hadn’t heard something crack. Up until then he’d been sitting quietly with his knees to his chest, staring at his feet, pointedly avoiding looking in your general direction. He could only hold your gaze for a few tense seconds before his cheeks flamed and he dropped his eyes.

“I– uh– y- yes?” He coughed, blinking hard.

You tilted your head, offering him an innocent smile. “Is there anything you’d like to eat?” You couldn’t stop yourself from adding an unnecessarily suggestive pitch to the question, words dancing wickedly across your tongue.

Taeyong swallowed and pulled his knees tighter to his chest. “I– I’ll just have some of the- the pizza.” The words tumbled clumsily out of his mouth and your grin only widened as he became more and more flustered under the heat of your persistent stare.

“Perfect. Then we can share.”

The poor boy nearly choked on air when you abruptly pushed yourself off of Mark and sauntered over to where he sat, squeezing in between him and an eager Yukhei, who was more than happy to make room for you. His entire body went rigid, brief panic shooting across his features as you made yourself comfortable. It was tight with Jaehyun, Lucas, Taeyong and now you all squished onto the couch, so you were practically flush against him, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. You pretended not to notice that he was holding his breath.

“Thirty minutes.” Mark announced, shutting off his phone and shoving it back into his pocket.

“What should we do while we wait?” Jaehyun asked, ignoring Yukhei as he whined about how he’d be dead of starvation before the food even arrived.

“Movie?” Haechan suggested.

You perked. “I know a good one.”

“No— no.” Mark cut in quickly, pointing a finger with the intention to reprimand in your direction. “Every time you pick a movie it’s either fucked up or really fucked up. So no.”

“Don’t be a pussy, Mark.” You huffed, wrinkling your nose at him. “Just because you don’t like horror movies doesn’t mean your friends don’t.”

��I, for one, love a good horror movie!” Yukhei remarked, a smug grin breaking across his lips as he shot a flirtatious wink in your direction.

Haechan scoffed. “Bullshit! You couldn’t sleep alone for a week after we watched The Shining. And that wasn’t even scary!”

“There was a tidal wave of blood.” He grumbled defensively, crossing his arms over his chest as he slumped, lower lip jutting out dramatically.

“No tidal wave of blood is this one, promise.” You snickered, snatching the remote from the cluttered coffee table and switching on the television. It only took a few minutes of browsing through Netflix before you finally located the movie you’d saved to your watch list a few weeks ago but had never gotten the chance to watch.

Marked hopped up to flick off the lights as you pressed play, any excited or nervous murmurs coming to a halt as the opening credits rolled across the screen. Beside you, Taeyong tensed, squeezing his legs even tighter to his chest. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, not missing the nervous way he gnawed at his lower lip even in the darkness.

“Not good with horror movies?” You hummed, nudging his knee. He flinched in surprise, eyes shooting over to meet yours before he quickly diverted his attention back to the screen.

“No, not– not really.” He admitted weakly, clearing his throat.

A playful smirk twirled onto your lips and you subtly leaned into him, whispering near his ear, “you can hold my hand if you get scared.”

A fierce blush consumed his cheeks, illuminated by the soft grey light of the television. “I– I’ll be okay.” He coughed when his voice cracked and you chuckled under your breath, opting to cut the poor boy some slack… for now.

The movie progressed with the usual eerie start before transitioning into something lighter, though the low hum of anticipation-building music never ceased. Even if at some point it became rather repetitive, you thoroughly enjoyed a good horror movie. Most of the time, they failed to meet expectations and you left feeling rather disappointed that your stomach hadn’t leapt into your throat any point throughout the film. However, every once in a while, you were pleasantly surprised.

Now, was not one of those times.

Boredom quickly settled over you as the plot developed, revealing itself to be almost identical to a number of horror movies you’d watched in the past. You slumped back in your seat, a subtle scowl staining your lips. But then… inspiration. Devious, unquestionably self indulgent inspiration that risked putting a certain someone in a possibly very awkward (but also very delightful) position.

The slow slide of your eyes from the television over to the boy seated at your left revealed that not everyone found the movie to be boring and repetitive. Taeyong was practically trembling. He had both of his hands over his face, wide, uncertain eyes peeking out timidly from between his index and middle fingers.

You had to sink your teeth into your lip in order to subdue the large grin threatening to break across your face.

Fuck, he’s too adorable.

Unable to resist, you allowed a curious hand to wander towards his leg. With a brush so subtle it could’ve been mistaken for a breeze, you traced a finger over the seam of his pants. But, with his senses on high alert, it wasn’t a sensation he missed. He jolted violently, head swinging in your direction. There was fear in his eyes, but it quickly melted into relief else once he realized it was you and not some demon.

Then his eyes drifted to where your finger lingered, hovering over his clothed thigh, and the relief transformed into something else entirely. Something hot and shameful and desperate, something he tried to hide behind frantically fluttering eyelids and quivering lips. But it was unmistakable.

You lifted your brows, a silent question swirling in your gaze. He swallowed, breath coming out in quick, shallow huffs as the unnameable emotion thickened inside of him, then he nudged his leg shyly towards you. The air you didn’t realize you were holding in your lungs rushed out in one quick exhale, a subtle smirk curling onto your lips as excitement swirled in your gut. Taeyong sucked his lower lip into his mouth as your open palm landed boldly on his lower thigh, fingers pressing gently into the clothed muscle just above his knee.

For a few minutes, it remained there, not moving any lower or any high, simply resting on his leg and he found himself relaxing beneath your touch. The heat of your hand was a welcome –comforting, even– distraction from the horror movie that had progressed to the point in the plot where the reckless characters put themselves directly into the line of danger instead of taking the intelligent path that would help them avoid it all together. You could feel the tension returning to Taeyong’s muscles as suspense building music poured from the surround sound speakers.

In a two sided attempt to both comfort and tease, you began gently massaging his thigh. His breath audibly hitched, gaze straying from the screen once more in favor of watching the slow, deliberate motion of your fingers squeezing around his leg. That alone was enough to set his long neglected desire to flames. It burned within him, hot and dangerous, turning his face a dark, flattering crimson.

It was too much. He’d never been touched like this before. You weren’t even close to his crotch and he could still feel the distinctive hardening beneath the zipper of his jeans which were growing tighter and tighter with every passing moment. At this rate, he’d make a mess of himself before the movie even reached its climax.

The mere thought of coming untouched was enough to make his head feel dizzy, a mixture of humiliation and heady lust licking at his nerves.

He couldn’t believe he was feeling this way, in a room full of his friends no less. If one of them were to look over, even through darkness, it would be impossible to miss your hand laid across his lap or the feverish blush coating his face, illuminated by the dull light of the tv.

Then, your hand shifted higher. It was a minute movement, couldn’t have been more than an inch or two. But it had his pulse spiking in his veins nonetheless, blood rushing downward. You gripped gently at the inside of his slim thigh, thumb tracing slow, calculated circles into the rough material of his jeans. He trembled beneath the teasing ministrations, jaw clenched to fight back the urge to moan as your curious touch wandered upwards once more.

“Is this alright?”

The question came unexpectedly, a sudden rush of warm breath hitting the curve of his throat. He sucked his lips into his mouth, shivering faintly at the low, rough sound of your voice, just quiet enough that none of the other men in the room could make it out.

He offered a sharp, jerky nod, desperately heaving in deep breath through his nose. The corner of your mouth curled.

“God you're shaking. Are you that sensitive? Or do you just get off on getting felt up in front of all your friends? How naughty.” You chuckled tauntingly, words borderline malicious.

“I– I don’t— I’m not—” he swallowed, shaking his head frantically in denial of your words, despite the flames they ignited inside of him.

“I think you are.” You purred, tracing your index finger lightly over his prominent bulge, eliciting a strangled moan from his trembling lips. He was fortunate enough that at the very moment the sound escaped, some ditzy bimbo began screaming her lungs out in the movie. Still, he slapped a hand over his offending lips, looking around frantically to see if anyone had heard his slip up. Luckily enough, it seemed they hadn’t.

This was payback, he realized abruptly, this was payback for walking in on you showering.

But even if it was—

It felt too damn good.

His head tipped back, hand surging to cover his burning face and stifle his whimpers as you suddenly gripped firmly at his clothed length. A low, appreciative hum thrummed through your chest as you felt him twitch, delighting in just how responsive he was to your touch. His thighs squeezed together, hips shuddering upwards as you mapped him out.

The urge to set your teeth upon his neck was almost overwhelming, but you resisted only because it might draw some attention from the room’s other, currently oblivious, occupants. You doubted Yukhei would miss it, even if he was desperately hiding his eyes behind those astoundingly massive hands.

But shit was it tempting.

His pretty porcelain skin would look so good painted in varying shades of pink and red. So sweet and pure… you wanted to taint him.

He couldn’t stop moving now, squirming and quivering in place. He was unraveling right before your eyes, and you were devouring it. What a sight…

Warmth stirred in your belly, and you rolled your palm down. He jolted violently, then in the next second he was up on his feet. It happened so quickly that you nearly fell over, just barely catching yourself from falling into the spot he previously occupied. Yukhei shrieked in shock, throwing himself directly into Jaehyun’s lap.

“Fuck, Taeyong! You almost gave me a heart attack!” Haechan shrilled, clutching a pillow against his chest. Instead of responding, Taeyong jerked forward, the movement sharp and robotic, like his body wasn’t quite caught up to his brain.

“What are you doing?” Doyoung asked, squinting at him through the darkness. “And why do you look so—”

“B- B- Bathroom!” Taeyong squeaked out abruptly. You could only watch with wide eyes and gaping lips as he proceeded to run out of the living room like his ass was on fire.

“Movie must’ve freaked him out.” Johnny muttered.

“It’s not even that bad.” Yukhei scoffed in a voice too high pitched for his words to sound believable, grunting when Jaehyun shoved him off of his lap. Noisy banter was quick ensue. Noisy and distracting enough for you to make a quick and silent escape without catching any of the other boys’ attention.

“Taeyong?” You called softly, worry churning in your gut that you overstepped or upset him. “Tae, I’m sorry if I—” you gasped, words cutting off in your throat as a hand found your wrist and you were quickly tugged around the corner and into the unlit hallway.

The motion was so unexpected you ended up tripping over your own feet, having to slam a hand against the wall to steady yourself. But it was only when you felt a rush of quick, warm breath against your face that you realized the position you’d gotten yourself into. Taeyong was standing in front of you, face flushed a feverish shade of red, faint perspiration glistening on his skin, and he was standing with his spine flush against the wall, effectively caged in by your body. And he was looking at you.

Really looking at you.

With the kind of eyes that had something tightening deliciously in the pit of your stomach, chills of excitement ricocheting through your veins.

“Tae?” His name was less than a breath on your lips, laced with an unspoken question. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth, fluttering gaze dancing across your face.

“I almost…” he swallowed, shivering voice tapering off as he became overwhelmed by the proximity. He could smell your shampoo, a subtle, smoky-vanilla kind of scent that made his head feel dizzy. “I almost c- came.”

The corner of your mouth swirled, both amused and charmed by the way he whispered the word, tone so innocent and shy that the filthy meaning behind it almost became misconstrued in your head.

“Do you want to come, Taeyong?” You asked quietly, jutting a knee forward to press between his thighs. He gasped, trembling lips silently caressing the shape of your name as his hands shot forward, clutching desperately onto the sides of your shirt. A shy nod was all he could muster, the words feeling far too dirty to say aloud. But you weren’t satisfied.

“Say it.” You murmured, nose brushing against his. His breath hitched at the command, warmth flushing through his veins beneath the staggering heat of your dark, hooded gaze. “If you want it, say it. If you don’t, tell me now.”

“I want it!” He said quickly, only to flush and shrink in on himself, taken aback by his own outburst. Licking his lips, he repeated himself in a much softer voice, “I– I want it.”

You let out a low hum, curving a gentle hand around his jaw. “Can I kiss you?”

A shock ran through his body, his wide eyes snapping down to trace to soft lines of your mouth. “Yes.” He breathed, suddenly desperate for a taste of your lips. You didn’t deny him.

The first brush of your lips against his is light, delicate… teasing. It made his knees tremble, fierce anticipation and wild desire running rampant through him. He opened up for you like a goddamn flower in bloom, melting sweetly when you applied even the slightest bit more pressure. His mouth was soft and warm, his kiss shy. And there was something ever so endearing about the way he clutched at your top like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

You kept the pace deliberately slow, relishing in the soft moans that fluttered from his chest as you sucked his lower lip into your mouth, gently sinking your teeth into the sensitive flesh. He was wracked by a violent full body shiver when you licked over the seam of his lip.

God he’s adorable.

His strong reactions made you wonder if he’d ever been kissed like this before. Or, perhaps, this was a new experience entirely.

“Taeyong.” He whimpered when you abruptly broke away from the kiss, but you ignored it. “Are you a virgin?”

His eyes widened, a deep red flooding his cheeks. Then, he nodded, gaze dropping to the floor as the tips of his ears darkened.

Wicked excitement curled in your gut, heat licking at your veins at the thought of being the first to corrupt such a sweet… innocent…

“Have you ever been touched before?”

He shook his head, chest pressing against your with every jagged inhale he drew into his lungs.

You dipped a hand between your bodies, trailing teasingly down his stomach. “Would you like to be touched?” Your voice had dropped at least an octave, a low, rasping whisper that nearly made him keen.

“Yes.” A devious grin settled across your lips at the quickness of his reply. Didn’t even need to think that one over, huh?

You slid your hand over his crotch, feeling his hips buck uncontrollably when you squeezed. “Just looking at you,” you began, toying with his zipper, “I never would’ve guessed what a little slut you are.”

“I- I’m not a slut.” He whimpered, digging his fingers into your waist.

“Aren’t you, though?” You popped the button of his jeans. “I mean, take a good look at yourself, Yongie; letting yourself get felt up and teased by your best friend’s roommate while they’re just in the next room over. Seems pretty slutty to me.”

Taeyong couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped his chest at the degrading word, his cock twitching within the confines of his boxers. Slipping a finger beneath the elastic, you tugged it away from his skin, letting out a playful coo when his weeping pink tip peeked out. The blush on his face intensified tenfold, both of his hands dropping down instinctively to cover himself. But you were faster, snatching his wrists and pinning them against the wall on either side of his head.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Shivering, he offered a compliant nod.

“Good boy.”

He barely had time to form a reaction to the praise before he felt you around him, stroking and caressing. The responding moan that burst from his lips was loud— too loud. You were quick to cover his gaping mouth, successfully muffling the series of succeeding gasps and whimpers.

“Careful, sweetheart,” you clicked your tongue, watching the way his eyes fluttered and rolled as you tightened your grip around his cock, “you wouldn’t want your hyungs to find out what a little slut you’re being, now would you? Mark was so kind, inviting you into his home… How do you think he’d feel if he were to see you taking advantage of his hospitality, getting your pretty little cock played with by his roommate? How shameless...”

Taeyong whimpered, and you felt the gentle press of his lips against your palm, followed by a meek flick of his tongue. He was looking at you now, really looking at you, with the kind of pathetic, wanting eyes that never failed to make your skin burn in excitement. You wondered if you could make him cry, overwhelm him with pleasure to the point where he couldn’t keep his emotions at bay. The desire to ruin him was almost unbearable.

Swirling your thumb over his tip, you slotted a leg between his, pressing up against him from underneath. He nearly keened at the pressure, hips rolling greedily over your thigh, simultaneously pumping his cock into your closed fist. Heaven, this must be heaven. Honestly, you hadn’t expected him to succumb to his desires so readily, with such… enthusiasm. But this Taeyong surprised you at every turn. You’d thought he’d be shy, reserved, hesitant to give in, but here he was, riding your thigh and fucking your hand like his life depended on it, his muffled moans pulsing beneath your palm.

It’d be a flat out lie to say you weren’t beyond turned on.

There was a slick warmth building between your thighs, soaking into the fabric of your underwear, and tight knots in your stomach, threatening to burst at any given moment. The knowledge that less than thirty feet away, your roommate and all his friends were gathered and one stray moan from the crumbling man before you could give away all the filthy things you were doing to him stroked the lustful flames blazing through your blood. One glimpse into those hooded, glassy brown eyes told you he was suffering from a similar burn.

“Turn around.” You demanded, somewhat breathless as you tore your hands off of him. A low whimper escaped past trembling lips at the loss of stimulation, a shiver rippling down his spine as his hard, abandoned cock swung through empty air. Regardless, he was quick to comply, spinning himself around and pressing his palms flat against the wall. You hummed a praise, pleased with his eager compliance, rewarding him with your touch. He gasped, forced to sink his teeth into his lip to stifle his whimpers as your hands slipped over his body: one returning to stroke his dick while the other pushed beneath the material of his top, venturing up to his chest where your fingers set to toying with his sensitive nipples.

“(y/n)—” he moaned your name desperately, rocking his body back against yours as overwhelming pleasure pulsed through his veins.

“Easy, sweetheart,” you chuckled darkly, splaying a steadying palm across his hips as they began grinding back into yours, “you sound like you're about to burst.”

He moaned, shuddering when you caressed his sensitive tip, and an idea struck you.

“Can you do something for me, Tae?” You asked, voice a low, rasping against the shell of his ear. “Can you suck?”

Any short lived confusion dissipated from his mind when he felt your fingers nudging at the soft flesh of his lips. A deep blush flooded into his cheeks, but his mouth opened nonetheless, shyly taking your digits inside.

“There you go…” you purred, feeling his tongue lick delicately at the pads of your middle and ring finger. He sucked, and you lowered your head to press slow, encouraging kisses laced with whispered praises to the juncture of his throat. You felt the soft vibrations of his muffled moans quivering through your knuckles and against your lips. He was shaking, the stimulation to his cock causing violent tremors to wrack his body. He wasn’t far off from release, you could tell as much by the way he was twitching and the slow increase in volume of his sounds.

But you weren’t finished yet.

Not by a long shot.

You pulled your fingers from his mouth, the suction of his lips giving with a lewd, wet pop. A filthy sound coming from such innocent lips.

Leaning forward, you nipped gently at the shell of his red tinted ear, hand releasing his dick in favor of venturing beneath the hem of his pants. You heard his breath hitched and offered quietly, “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

Taeyong nodded in understanding, but offered no resistance as you pushed the thick denim down over the soft curve of his ass. His shoulders jumped, a gasp shooting from his lips when you slid a saliva soaked finger between his cheeks, coming to the abrupt realization of what your intentions were.

“O– oh—”

“Is this alright?”

He swallowed, glancing back at you from over his shoulder. “I– I’ve never…”

You soothed a hand down the front of his thigh, “it’s okay if you don’t want to.”

There was no judgement in your tone, rather a gentleness to the reassurance that put his buzzing nerves at ease. “That’s not it,” he shook his head, gnawing at the corner of his lip as a soft pink crept across his cheeks, “j– just…”

“Just?”

Taeyong drew in a deep, trembling breath. Your furrowed brows shot to your hairline, heat twisting in your gut as he suddenly bent himself over, sticking his ass out, practically fucking presenting himself to you. “B- be gentle…” he whispered shyly, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow.

Steam would surely start coming out of your nose if your temperature rose any further. This is fucking ridiculous. How was it possible for a man to be so cute yet so sexy all at once? This couldn’t be good for your health…

Smirking deviously, you settled a palm between his shoulder blades, pressing down ever so slightly and watching as he delicately arched his spine. “I’m always gentle.”

A hiccuping moan rushed from his chest at the first careful press of your finger, his brows furrowing deeply as his muscles tightened in response to the foreign stretch.

“Relax, sweetheart.” You reminded lightly, settling soothing kisses across his shoulder. He drew in a series of deep breaths, allowing himself to adjust to the sensation of having something inside of him while melting into the tender caress of your cool lips across his feverish skin. You felt the slow dissipation of tension, felt the way he melted beneath you. “There you go…” you cooed, easing into him until your knuckle before allowing him a few moments to adjust.

He was panting, forehead thudding softly against the wall as his hips trembled, a strange but not unpleasant feeling sparking to life inside of him.

“Oh…” it was a barely audible sound, soft and breathless of shuddering lips. But you didn’t miss it, didn’t miss the way his shoulders drooped, his walls tight relaxing ever so faintly around the intruding digit. The corner of your mouth curled upwards in a salacious smirk, and you curled your finger experimentally.

His reaction was instantaneous, a moan of surprise entwined with unexpected pleasure rushing from his flush throat. He glanced back at you from over his shoulder, eyes wide and trembling, hazy with an emotion you immediately recognized as pure, unfiltered lust. Your grin widened, almost triumphant as you whispered, “feel that?”

He nodded rapidly, a gasp of breath wracking his chest. “Yes,” his hands were curling into fists where they were braced against the plaster wall.

“Wanna feel it again?”

The sound he let out was a combination of several things, keening and desperate for the sensation he’d never before experienced. “Please. Please.”

It was impossible to say anything but yes when he begged like that.

You rewarded him by stretching him out around a second finger, his knees nearly giving out when you thrust them in as deep as they would go. He was an absolute mess, forced to slap a quivering hand over his gaping mouth when his teeth proved insufficient at keeping his sounds in. You were enjoying yourself perhaps a little too much, enjoying watching him slowly crumble, enjoying watching his innocence shatter into tiny irreparable pieces on the floor beside glistening drops of precum. He was just too irresistible…

“You’re about to come, aren’t you?” He was nodding before you even finished the question, muffled moans and sobs escaping through his fingers as he fucked himself back onto yours. You curve a hand around the shape of his jaw, tugging his head back at an angle that surely causes a strain in his neck, and slot your lips into his. Shoving your tongue down his throat proves a far more efficient means of keeping him quiet.

But when you curled your fingers inside of him, subsequently stroking that sensitive bundle of nerves, even your mouth wasn’t enough to stifle the shriek of pleasure that burst from his throat. You were hoping the screams you heard emulating from the other room were enough to drown it out.

“Keep your voice down.” You all but snarled, curling a hand around his throat.

“I- I can’t— oh god, it feels so g- good.” He babbled, voice strained from the sheer effort of trying to keep himself from crying out in bliss. “I’m g- gonna come— I’m gonna c- come—” the sound of him choking on his words, gasping for breath around the added resistance of your restricting hold was even hotter than you imagined it would be.

“Gone on, sweetheart. Let me see you make a mess of yourself.” You kissed the shell of his ear, deciding then to have mercy and offer his pathetic, weeping cock a helping hand. He was finished the moment your fingers grazed his tip, struck with an orgasm so powerful it had his knees buckling beneath the weight of his quivering body.

His jaw when slack, unleashing every pent up sound he’d managed to keep bottled up thus far. They came rushing out of him too quickly to stop, not that you made much of an effort. You were enjoying the way he was moaning your name like it was his saving grace far too much to care whether or not the other boys were hearing. In fact, the thought of them hearing their sweet, innocent Taeyong whimpering like a bitch in heat, moaning your name, gave you an unexpected rush of delight.

You didn’t stop fucking your fingers into his tight little hole until you were certain you’d milked him for all he was worth, until he was reduced to little more than a trembling, whimpering mess against your chest, barely able to keep himself upright.

“Oh my g- god.” He murmured shakily, head falling back to rest on your shoulder.

A low chuckle slid from your lips as you gently released his spent cock, simultaneously pulling out of him. He winced faintly, whining weakly at the unpleasant emptiness that ensued.

“That felt pretty good didn’t it?” You teased.

He bit his lip, humming airily as he melted into your hold.

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you, Taeyong?” Your words danced over the curve of his throat, flooding his senses with the fluttering implication. Blushing, he nodded, a shy bob of his head that caused the sweat soaked fringes of his bangs to fall over his eyes, clinging delicately to his pretty eyelashes. “Words?”

“I—” he swallowed, gaze flitting as his face reddened further, “I’m a g- good boy.”

You mouth curled deviously. Holding your come covered hand up to his panting mouth, you whispered against the shell of his ear, “good boys clean up their mess.”

His breath hitched, wide eyes jumping over to meet yours. You held his gaze boldly, cocking an expectant brow. Then, ever so lightly, his tongue dipped out from between red bitten lips, kitten licking his come from your fingertips. You could’ve come right then and there, watching him shyly lap his own release from your hand. Honestly you would’ve been happy to stay like that all night, his tongue tracing the lines of your palm, caressing your knuckles…

But then the doorbell rang, and someone cleared their throat in the other room.

“Uh… foods here.”

Taeyong leapt away from you with a gasp, flushing deeply as his hands flew to tuck himself back into his jeans.

“D- do you think they—” his voice cracked and he coughed as crimson crept up his neck.

You smirked, not in the least bit ashamed.

“Oh, definitely.”

A/N; well i dropped off the face of the earth, sorry about that loves. but i think you’ll be happy to know that i have a number of wip sitting in drafts, should i tease the banners?

3K notes · View notes

pufflocks · 3 years

Note

Ok ok lady kuroo oneeeeee..

Kuroo fucking bottom male y/n in the school bathroom by pressing y/n again a wall and just fucking his brains out

Summary: Skipping with your boyfriend sounds fun. Right ? You were being rather bratty during lunch.. Maybe some discipline in those dirty stalls would whip you up straight. ♡

"-Come on, speak up. You were just saying how you'd much rather be doing something else." -T.K ❣

An: Please excuse errors. I most definitely rushed this out my drafts.

Warning: Degrading • Dacryphilia • Minor Gagging • Minor Slapping • proof read

Cast: Bottom!M!Reader x Tetsurou Kuroo

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

It was lunch time. Or passing time some others call it as for some people would play on their devices or talk to their friends.

That's exactly what you were doing earlier, you decided to drag out the topic of how you think your boyfriend is just so protective in your conversation.

"Sometimes I wanna fuckin' breath-"

That's what you said, no ?

You were sitting next to and telling this to your boyfriends bestfriend, Kenma. He however just gave a light sigh saying something how could he help. Fingers diddling with his switch frantically. He obviously wasn't much help in situations like this, you know, but your mind was side tracked with your boyfriends glare.

'Hm..'

He was eyeing you down word for word as he silently watched you across your guys' table with your friends.

Watching you move shy hair strands from his bestfriends face and giving Kenma tips on his game. Not tha you had any particular idea in the game.

Why are trying so hard to be buddy buddy with him ? If you didn't even interest Kenma in any sexual form or other.

Tetsurou most definitely wouldn't let this just go by easily.

Lev only looked at his friend beside him then back at you in awe.

Yaku on the other hand had his eyes darted in his lap to his phone. No need to be in this conversation.

'Did he actually say that-?' He thought.

The chopsticks in Kuroos hand slipped from his fingertips as he chuckled under his breath. He didn't think you were this fucking down bad to get some dick.

All you really had to do was just ask. How fucking hard could that task be ? Could have easily fuck after school or at one of your guys' house. Gladly.

No doubt you would be coming back to this table with a dazed expression.

"Meet me in the bathroom, bubs." He whispered to you as he got up from his seat his dark aura following him out of the lunch room doors.

Yaku rose his head from his lap as his eyes darted your way, in disbelief, you were giggling happily as if you weren't about to get folded in half.

You got up from your seat leaving your barely eaten meal and two stunned friends, and one who's eyes were glued to his switch.

'Which one did he go to-' Thought unable to finish as you got pulled into a hard warm chest of someone you could only guess your lover.

You sensed his tense form as you shyly looked up to his face to only be met with dark pools of jealousy known as his eyes.

A shiver transferred to your head all the way down to your toes as a boner slowly began to form in your pants. Even when he was jealous and frustrated he could always be seen getting flat out drunk on his cat like existence alone.

And right now all you wanted from his noir existence was a dead. Good. Fucking.

"There something on my face or something ? Or are you imagining me as my bestfriend instead of me ? Your fucking boyfriend."

His words felt cold with a tinge of heated anger. He couldn't be truthfully angry at you could he ?

The only response he got from you was a shy shake of your head 'no'.

Gotta play like you didn't want your arse pounded like a dog in heat just a second ago.

You thought about your next moves as your pants got tighter by the second and your now playful and mischievous boyfriend glared down at your form.

'Ah–'

Not all the time did you see the man get hot and bothered up front like this, not in school at least.

Close within eachother faces, hot tension in the air. The heat coming off his body specifically was close to a bonfire in the summer, and you were his slightly charred marshmallow being close to the heat.

Melting into something deliciously horny.

" 'M just horny 'n wanna be fucked really hard today-" You whined. Never being the one to exactly whine and beg, but the last time you masturbated was about half a month ago !

It wasn't your fault he was so busy and such with volleyball though. He msdevsyre to have time for you every so often. Outside and inside of school he was the best boyfriend.

"Oh. Didn't notice you were so greedy. Why not ask me after school ?" He bluntly stated. Funny his he asked this and your erection is straining against fabric as you speak.

You tugged on the bottom of his uniform catching him off guard slightly. "If you don't fuck me right now, Tetsuro Kuroo I might just consider getting with Kenma !" You barked.

Tetsurou only smirked like the mischievous damn cat he was.

Leaning closer down to your face, "Alright then. When we get back from the stalls, I dont wanna here a word about the cum leaking out of your abused ass." He whispered for your ears only as he flicked a slightly erect nipple outside of your school flannel shirt.

¤ y.p.o.v ¤

"Yes, yes." I mumbled. My nipples were being stupidly played with.

"Bathroom.." I said. He only nodded, retreating his hands.

Making our way down to the bathroom was audibly quiet. Only our footsteps being heard throughout the silent halls.

My eyes skimmed his posture and tall stature as I noticed his bulge. Soon enough it was going to be forcefully filling me in some dirty stall.

I look up at Tetsu and see his unusual stoic face fall into something familiarly mischievous as he caught on to me.

The sexual appeal and aura was never lost as we made our destination. Thankfully, we made it to the bathrooms without me jumping on him right there and then.

"We're here and let's hurry this up, pretty boy. I dont feel like getting in trouble for fucking you between classes again." He stated. I only scoffed and chuckled lightly.

At this point I dont care if we skipped a few minutes just to fuck. Did it once, I'm sure we wouldn't get caught twice.

Walking in the bathrooms, the first thing I do is pull him down for a kiss. Reminding him that I'm still feeling it.

He chuckled in the kiss. Wrapping his rather long arms around my waist, picking me up as I tossed my legs over his waist. His muscular body holding me up as if I weighed like air.

"Bubs.. About fucking you into these stalls. You know why I'm gonna go rough right," I nodded slowly. Giving him a few small hickies on his neck.

Faking my innocence for a better fuck is always worth while. He took that as a thumbs up as he once again let out that noir chuckle of his.

"That's good to know babes~"

Further movements were heated skin to skin touches and kitten licks and bites of each other. Some movements pornos could never mimic.

His calloused fingers gripping my throat, forcing eye contact as he smirked on how wrecked I already looked. I would say it was embarrassing if my mind wasn't attracted to his knee gliding across my tight pant front.

"Looks like you need to get that attitude fucked out of you from earlier, hm ?"

My mind barely focusing on his wolfish voice as he licked a long strong underside of my jaw, making me visibly shake and quiver slightly. The contact we shared in this cramped stall has me gasping for air the more I think of someone barging in. Any second I could literally bust thinking of how he would fuck me harder, the two pairs of feet on ther other side of the stall merely nonexistent to us.

"Tetsu please- I want it really bad~ I was bad wasnt I ?" I was becoming desperate as I slithered my hand down to his own very visible, erection.

He groaned lightly before chuckling and kissing me once more. I know he knows that my actions with his bestfriend weren't intentionally to hurt him, but what if I had fucked his bestfriend-

My thought was intruded as he flipped me over the stall door and shucking my pants off my body. Doing the exact same to his own as he harshly pushed into me.

I choke out a long groan of surprise as he held me against his clothed chest. "Ah-! Wait Tetsu!~" I was hushed by long fingers. Poking and prodding on my tongue to my throat.

He whispered in my ear, "Shh, now what if we get caught and I get in trouble for fucking you ?~", nibbling on my earlobe tantalizingly slow.

Hot breath we shared as his dick ushered in and out of my puckered hole. Minding you that we had no lube so the burn of him dragging himself in and out of me was a blinding pain.

My hands made attempt of pushing him away. Drool just at the corner of my mouth, fingers still at work.

He got the idea, pulled out to the tip, and lazily drooled on his shaft. His shape successfully returning to it's desired place.

"Can't have you hurting too bad. Even though this is a well deserved punishment~" He smirked at his own comment.

Right. I got myself in this situation and every second of it I loved. So close to the spot aswell-

"NGH–! Hah~ Shit Tetsu~ Right- Right thereee~!!" I shut my eyes closed tightly. My dick dripped precum as every few thrusts directed to my prostate.

"I found your spot, hm ?~ My baby finna cum soon ?~ Want me to jack you off or should I not, keep in mind your not off the hook, love.~" He mocked as his hands gripped my left leg, sandwiching between the stall door and my lover.

His other hand on my dick refusing of ejaculation. The new angle and pressure on my cock making my head fall back.

God I felt like I was going dumb and on his dick !

"PLEASE— I NEE- AH!~ I NEEF TO CUHM!~" I babbled. I doubt he heard me clearly though

Tetsu spat in his hand as his hand rapidly started to glide across my shaft. The slick palm feeling heavenly on my member. It was all so overwhelming !

Drool finally making it's way down my chin and hicked up throat.

"Bubs- Fuck-! Babe I'm finna cum in this sweet ass. Better keep in too~ Let Kenma and everyone else know you have a boyfriend~" He grunted near my ear as I frantically nodded my cockhead probably a pretty red now, completely swollen and wet.

"Cu- Cuhminggg!!~" I slurred as a particular harsh thrust shoved me off the edge and the knot in my stomach grew and snapped.

I felt a gush of his semen flow in my abused hole as he grunted and stilled ministrations. His cock head snug on my sore prostate.

"I- I hope you remember my words from earlier bubs. Wasn' playing." He scoffed as he checked out my blotchy neck and slobber slicked face.

The sight, I'm sure was obscene as he spread my cheeks. Cock head only inserted by the tip in hopes none of his hit substance fell on the bathroom tiles.

"Fuck Y/n.. Do this shit again I might just have to fuck you in front of Kenma~" He said tauntingly, slapping my ass aggressively as I eeked I surprise.

"I'm gonna leave first and you get cleaned up alright ? Don't want people to notice that we fucked like rabbits in the stalls." He said helping me with my clothes back on my body. I was too braindead to do about anything.

" Kiss.." My words coming out slurred. He looked up at me as he was helping me put my slacks on now. Leaning in giving me a long kiss.

My body leaned into his as I dragged my arms around his neck. Humming in satisfaction as I parted the sensually deep contact.

"You're so cute after sex !" He exclaimed as I ruffled his hair giggling now off my high.

He cleaned up after a few more shared pecks and left first as I sat on the toilet for about 6 minutes.

I checked my phone fir the time and I saw that it was nearing the end of the lunch hour.

'Fuck !'

I splashed some water on my face quickly before ushering to my next period. Being early wasn't so bad I suppose.

#kuroo x reader #kuroo x male reader #hq kuroo #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo tetsurō #kuroo testuro #smut #haikyuu smut #bottom reader #bottom male reader #degrading #choking #tw dacryphilia

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hyogonokitsune · 3 years

Text

longing -- suna rintarou x reader

college!au, tw alcohol use, lil bit of fluff, lil bit of angst, some smut at the end because I can’t fucking help myself 🥴 (oral -- m and f receiving, choking, creampie, cockwarming hnnff)

11,600 words

“Hey, ‘Samu, I gotta go lie down.” You had to practically yell to hear yourself over the music blaring from the speakers. Osamu was less than two feet from you, but you might as well have been yelling from a mile away.

“Huh?”

“I said I gotta go—fuck! Where’s your room?” You had to speak directly into his ear to make yourself understood; Osamu leaned in close to respond to you.

You hadn’t had that much to drink, but the atmosphere of the party was wearing you down. The insanely loud music and the crush of so many sweaty bodies were starting to give you a headache, and you were in desperate need of a quiet place to recharge. Most of the people were crowded into the living areas of the house, so you decided to escape to your friend’s upstairs bedroom to catch your breath.

You shut his door behind you, muffling the sounds of the party downstairs, and laid down on the bed, closing your eyes. Even here, you could feel the bass pounding in your head.

The door opened then, but when you lifted your head to look, it wasn’t Osamu standing in the room. You groaned; you definitely were not in the mood to deal with a random guy.

“Can I help you?” you asked in a hard voice, sitting up to look at him better.

“Can I help you?” he replied, utterly deadpan. He walked over to the desk in the corner and plugged his phone into a charger, his back facing you. “You’re in my room.”

“What? This is Osamu’s room.”

“’Samu’s room is the last door on the left. This is the last one on the right.” He turned around to look at you, his expression indifferent.

Your eyes widened as you realized your mistake, quickly hopping off his bed. “I’m so sorry! I must have misheard him. I just needed to get away from there,” you explained, gesturing towards the door.

He smirked at you. “Too much to drink?”

“No, there are just too many people down there, felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

His expression softened at your words. “Yeah, that’s why I came up here, too.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to it, then,” you said, moving towards the door.

“You’re Osamu and Atsumu’s friend, right?” he said, stopping you. “They said one of their old friends was gonna come over tonight.”

Your hand dropped from the doorknob as you nodded, telling him your name.

“I’m Suna,” he said.

“Oh! You went to high school with them, right? They’ve told me about you.”

“Nothing good, I bet,” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a grin.

“Almost all good things,” you responded truthfully.

“’Almost’”, he repeated, a low laugh escaping him. Suna watched you for a moment, looking as if he was thinking about something. “You can hang out here, if you want,” he said, motioning for you to sit back on the bed as he pulled out his desk chair. “As long as you don’t puke on anything.”

“I told you, I didn’t drink that much!” you huffed, but you sat down all the same. You had wanted to get away from all the noisy people downstairs, but this guy seemed laidback enough that he wouldn’t make your headache worse; besides, you were interested in talking to someone who had known the twins in high school.

Suna put on a playlist from his phone, setting the volume just loud enough to block out the house music blasting from downstairs. “You’ve known them a while, yeah?”

You nodded. “Since we were kids, but I didn’t go to Inarizaki with them.”

“Good call.”

“They’re not that bad!” you laughed. “Don’t tell them this, but I actually missed seeing them every day, so it’s nice that we ended up going to the same university.”

“Maybe I will tell them that, then they’ll spend more time harassing you instead of me.”

“Don’t you dare.”

You both laughed then, before falling into an easy silence. You shifted to get more comfortable on his bed, crossing your legs underneath you.

“Do you not like parties?” you asked.

“They’re alright,” he said, rubbing at his eyes. “I’m not too crazy about having ten thousand strangers in my house, though.”

You hummed in agreement, nodding your head. “Yeah, what’s fun about having random drunk people sweating all over you? I’d rather just hang out with a few friends, ya know?”

He snorted. “Hopefully it’ll be more like that in the future, but Atsumu really wanted to throw a big party for the start of the semester.”

You couldn’t help rolling your eyes. “He just wanted to introduce himself to as many girls as possible.”

“Yeah, that was his not-so-secret motive.”

There was another pause. Suna scrolled through his phone, searching for something.

“You wanna see some embarrassing photos of the twins?”

“Yes, absolutely I do.”

He grinned, unplugging his phone to come sit next to you on the bed. He leaned in close, tilting his screen so you could see it. “Oh, here’s a good one,” he said, trying to suppress a smile as he showed you a picture of Osamu lying face down on the ground. “He tripped when we were jogging, completely ate shit.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the image, especially with Atsumu in the foreground holding up a peace sign over his brother’s body.

Most of the photos were of the two of them fighting; having grown up with the twins, it was a little comforting to see that they acted the same around their new friends as they always had with you. You felt somewhat nostalgic at the thought.

Suna paused on a closeup photo of Atsumu, his eyes red and puffy as he tried to swat the camera away. “Ah, this was after he got rejected by a girl and he swore he wasn’t crying.”

“Oh my god, I totally remember that day!” you said, laughing hard. “’Samu called me, begging me to talk some sense into ’Tsumu because he kept whining about being turned down.”

“Seriously? God, knowing that makes this so much better,” Suna said, a crooked grin on his face.

“Please don’t tell him I told you that.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

He showed you nearly three years’ worth of pictures, pausing at the memorable ones to tell you the stories behind them. It was easy talking to him; you felt able to laugh naturally and relax around him despite being strangers, something that you weren’t able to do with most people you just met.

You didn’t realize how long you and Suna had been talking until you felt your phone buzzing in your pocket; seeing that it was a call from Osamu, you answered it.

“Y/n, did you leave?”

You were surprised by the panicky note in his voice. “No, I told you I was going upstairs.”

“Yeah? Well where the fuck are ya, ’cause I’m standing in my room and you’re not in here.”

“I’m in Suna’s room—”

Before you could finish your sentence, you heard footsteps stomp across the hall and the door flew open.

“What the hell are ya doing in here?” Osamu asked, still holding his phone up to his cheek.

“We’re fucking, obviously,” Suna deadpanned. You giggled, but Osamu didn’t look amused.

“I got the rooms mixed up, ’Samu,” you explained, getting up off the bed. “Suna’s just been telling me about your time in high school.”

“Oh, great,” Osamu said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s late, you want me to walk ya back to your dorm?”

“Can you even walk, or are you too drunk?”

“It’s Atsumu you should be worried about. He fell asleep on the couch downstairs.”

“Why does that not surprise me,” you laughed. You made your way over to Osamu, turning at the door to address Suna. “It was nice talking to you, I guess I’ll see you around.”

He was scrolling through his phone again, only giving you a brief disinterested glance. “Yeah, see you.”

You poked your head into Osamu’s room, only to find that it was empty. It was a little disappointing; you had been hoping to hang out with him for a bit, since you hadn’t had time to see much of him that week, but if he wasn’t around there was nothing to be done about it. The book you had borrowed from him a few weeks ago was already in your hand, so you placed it on his desk and turned to leave.

Stepping back into the hallway, you noticed that the door across from Osamu’s was open. You casually glanced inside as you walked past, catching Suna’s eye from where he sat in front of his laptop.

“Hey,” you said, leaning against the doorframe.

“Hey,” he parroted as he took his headphones off his ears.

“I came by to return a book that Osamu lent me, but I guess he’s not around.”

“I think he’s meeting with a professor.”

“Ah.” You fell silent, and Suna turned his attention back to his laptop. “What are you reading?” you asked.

He looked up again, his expression a little sheepish. “You’re gonna think it’s boring.”

“Try me.”

He sighed. “It’s an article analyzing the influence of Shakespeare’s histories on English nationalism.”

Your face brightened as you spoke. “That was published last week, right? I bookmarked that so I could read it when I got the chance.”

Suna looked surprised at your response, his eyes widening slightly. “It’s pretty interesting so far.”

“I have to say, though, you didn’t strike me as the type to be into that kind of stuff,” you said, just a hint of a teasing tone in your voice.

His expression was blank again as he responded, “Well, I am a literature major.”

“So am I!” you said, smiling at him as you walked into his room and leaned against his desk. “I don’t think we have any classes together, though.”

“It’s a big school.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” You paused, thinking of a way to keep the conversation going. “What’s your favorite Shakespeare play?”

Suna glanced up at the ceiling, bottom lip rolling between his teeth as he thought. “I guess I’d say Hamlet. There’s just so much shit going on.”

“Ah, so you love the drama of it all,” you laughed. “I think it’s a tie between Hamlet and Macbeth for me. The twist at the end is just—” you cut yourself off to do a chef’s kiss, prompting Suna to laugh a little.

“‘Macduff was from his mother’s womb untimely ripped’, such a raw line.”

“Yes, exactly!” You were beaming at him, happy to learn that you shared a common interest. Over the course of the last few weeks since you first met Suna, you hadn’t had much of a chance to get to know him, despite him being your best friends’ roommate. He usually kept to himself, and on the few occasions when he joined you and the twins to play video games or get dinner together, he didn’t talk much. He seemed like a naturally reserved person, and as you remembered this, you felt a small pang of guilt for disturbing him.

“Well, I’ll let you finish that article,” you said, getting off his desk and making for the door.

His voice stopped you before you could leave. “You can hang out here until Osamu gets back, if you want.” You turned to face him, a little surprised.

“You sure? I don’t wanna bother you.”

“You’re not bothering me,” he said. “I can finish this whenever.”

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling like this was a rare invitation coming from him. Your heart beat a little faster at the thought.

“Have you ever seen ‘Scotland, PA’?” you asked.

“Nope.”

“It’s an adaptation of Macbeth that takes place in a fast food restaurant.”

“Yeah?” he snorted, a grin appearing on his face. “You wanna watch it?” Before you could answer, he was unplugging his headphones and bringing his laptop over to you.

“Sure, if you want to,” you told him, feeling like you were really lucking out.

Suna sat on the floor at the foot of his bed, patting the spot at his side as he started searching for the movie. You sat down next to him, careful to leave a space between you.

When you watched movies with Atsumu and Osamu, their incessant talking usually got on your nerves pretty quickly, but you found that you didn’t mind listening to Suna’s comments. Watching the film together seemed to make any lingering awkwardness between you two disappear, and before long you were laughing and leaning into each other.

“Oh, I hate this part!” you groaned when you reached a certain scene, turning to press your face into Suna’s shoulder.

“Jesus, that’s fucked up,” he chuckled, grimacing as Duncan’s character fell face-first into a deep fryer.

“Then why are you laughing!” you said, lifting your head, but you couldn’t keep your own laughter from bubbling up in your chest. Suna gave you a crooked grin, your reaction only making him laugh harder.

“Oi, Sunarin! You got a girl in there or something?” Osamu’s voice floated in through the open door, his head appearing a moment later. His eyes widened when he spotted you. “What the hell are ya doin’ here?”

“Hello to you, too, ’Samu,” you said dryly. “I came here to return your book, but you were too busy to see me, I guess.”

“Took ya long enough,” he grumbled, but he grinned at you all the same. “I’m starving, you wanna grab something to eat?”

“Yeah, later,” you said, turning to look at Suna. “There’s still a bit left in this movie, you wanna finish it now?”

“Yeah,” he replied, a little surprised that you’d postpone hanging out with your friend to finish the movie with him.

“Ugh, fiiiine,” Osamu groaned, rolling his eyes at you, “guess I’ll go shower, then. But don’t take too long, I’m so fuckin’ hungry.”

“Maaaan, I can’t wait until this semester’s over,” Atsumu sighed. “I feel like it’s draggin’ by.”

“Yeah, it’ll be nice to go home for break.”

The two of you were standing on a patch of grass outside the gym, passing a volleyball back and forth. It was chilly, your breath coming out in silvery puffs, but after spending most of your time inside studying for the past week, you had both wanted to get some fresh air.

“I just know I’m gonna fail my bio final.”

“You’ll be fine, ’Tsumu,” you chuckled as you bumped the ball back to him. “You’ve been studying more in the last few days than I’ve seen you do in your entire life.”

“Hey, I studied in high school!” he huffed, his face contorting in mock annoyance as he set the ball. “Just ask Suna!”

The mention of his roommate’s name made your stomach flutter, causing you to mess up the course of the ball.

Atsumu quickly stepped to the side to get under it, giving you a nice, high set in return. “Jeez, you’ve really let your skills slip, huh?” he teased, grinning at you.

“Shut up, piss head.” Your cheeks were already pink from the cold, but you felt them heating up.

“Why don’t you play anymore anyway? I’m pretty sure there’s a women’s club on campus.”

You shrugged as you responded. “I don’t know, I don’t think I’m good enough to play for a college team.”

“Bullshit.”

You heaved a sigh. “Fine. I just think it’d be weird to play on a new team. I liked my old team, ya know? All my good memories are of them, I don’t think it would be fun to have to learn a whole new dynamic with new people. I’d feel like I was… I don’t know, like I was cheating on them or something.”

Atsumu looked at you like you’d just told him the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “That’s still bullshit.”

“Well I don’t expect you to understand, you freak. You wouldn’t care who your teammates are, as long as you get to play volleyball.” You gave him a smile as you passed him the ball. “I still have fun playing with you and ’Samu, though.”

“You better. If that ever changed, I’d have to rethink this whole friendship.”

You both laughed, but a part of you wondered how serious he really was.

“Fuck, okay my fingers are actually starting to go numb. Can we go inside now?” you asked, shoving your bright red hands into your jacket pockets.

“Yeah, you wanna grab some dinner?”

“Definitely.”

The two of you set off for the campus dining hall, huddled close together for warmth. The sun was just beginning to set, making the bare trees cast long, spindly shadows on the path in front of you. You quickened your pace, shivering a little.

The dining hall was just beginning to fill up; you and Atsumu managed to grab a table near the back of the room before all the spots were taken. You wrapped your freezing hands around your bowl of soup, savoring the warmth. Atsumu wasted no time digging into his own meal.

“You might wanna wipe that rice off your face, ’Tsumu,” you told him in a low voice, “that girl over there is checking you out.”

“Huh?” he asked, his mouth full. His eyes glanced over to the direction where you were tilting your head. “Eh, whatever.”

You rolled your eyes, a small smile on your face. “You still hooking up with that girl from your stats class?”

“Yeah, I actually really like her,” he said, swallowing a massive bite of food. “She’s sweet, and funny. And she’s really good at—”

“Stop,” you said, holding up a hand. “I really don’t wanna know.”

He smirked at you. “I was gonna say helping me study. Jeez, what were you thinking about?”

You bit your lip, trying not to give him the satisfaction of seeing you smile.

“What about you? You been seeing anyone?”

“You know damn well the only guys I hang out with are you and ’Samu.”

“And Suna,” he added. You took a big gulp of your soup so you wouldn’t have to say anything in response. He was right, though; lately you had been spending more time with Suna, even without the twins around. “I’m kinda surprised at Suna, actually,” Atsumu continued.

“What, that he’s hanging out with me?”

“No, that he’s not hanging out with any other girls.”

Your brow furrowed a little. You had assumed that Suna got around; he was handsome, after all, and he had that mysterious, reticent personality that most girls went crazy for.

“I mean, back in high school he was kinda known for just having a ton of hookups. I figured he’d keep that up in college. I don’t know, maybe he’s too busy now,” Atsumu mused.

You mulled it over in your head. It seemed to you like Suna had more free time now than he would have had in high school; almost every time you stopped by their house, he was either in his room reading or listening to music, or else playing games with the twins. You were pretty sure he could have fit in a hookup or two if he wanted.

“Maybe he just wants to focus on his classes,” you offered, but it didn’t sound realistic even as you said it.

Atsumu snorted. “Yeah, like he’s gonna trade pussy for his GPA.”

“Charming, ’Tsumu,” you sighed. “It’s not really any of our business what Suna gets up to, though.”

“I’m just saying, it’s a little weird for him.” Atsumu’s arm stretched out to steal some food from your tray. “Maybe he’s met someone he really likes.”

His words made your stomach turn over, but you weren’t entirely sure why.

A few days into the spring semester, both Atsumu and Osamu came down with nasty colds. By the time the weekend rolled around, they were completely incapacitated, unable to do anything but huddle up together on the couch, sniffling sadly.

You had taken pity on your friends, so on Saturday night (after receiving several dramatic texts from Atsumu that he was dying), you decided to go over to their house to cook them dinner. The twins were curled up on the couch watching a movie, wrapped in thick blankets with used tissues scattered around the coffee table in front of them. From where you stood in the kitchen prepping ingredients, you had a clear view of them over the counter; the sight of them looking so sorry for themselves reminded you of all the times you had gone over their house to keep them company when they got sick as kids. You smiled to yourself, thinking of those fond memories.

“Y/n,” Atsumu whined from the living room, his blanket pulled up over the top of his head. “I don’t feel good.”

“I know, baby. Dinner will be ready soon.”

Out of the corner of your eye you saw him tighten the blanket around himself, a dopey grin on his face. “Y/n called me ‘baby’,” he said happily.

“Simp,” Osamu muttered under his breath.

Atsumu stuck a leg out from under his blanket to kick his brother. “Don’t be jealous, you scrub!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at them; their usual bickering sounded especially cute when their voices were so congested.

“Even when you’re sick you guys can’t shut up.” Suna had come downstairs, rubbing his eyes as he walked into the kitchen.

“Sunarin! Are you finally gonna hang out with us?” Atsumu asked excitedly.

“Absolutely not. I don’t wanna catch whatever weird disease you guys have—”

“You make us sound so disgusting,” Osamu grumbled.

“I just came down to get food,” Suna continued, grabbing a Cup Noodle from the cupboard.

“Oh no you’re not,” you said, snatching it out of his hands. “I’m making dinner for you guys.”

Suna’s eyes widened a little in surprise, but he didn’t object. Instead, he leaned back against the counter, watching as you dried the vegetables.

“Suna, could you chop up the mushrooms for me?” you asked. “Oh, but wash your hands first, please!”

Without saying a word, he did as you asked. You could hear Atsumu snickering from the couch.

“Talk about a simp. Y/n actually got Sunarin to help out in the kitchen,” he said, smirking. Suna balled up the paper towel he was using to dry his hands and chucked it at Atsumu’s head.

“You’ve got snot dripping down your face, dude.”

“Shut up!” Atsumu cried, sniffling as he burrowed deeper into his blanket.

With Suna’s help, prepping the ingredients went twice as fast. You expected him to leave the kitchen once it was done, but to your surprise he stayed, leaning against the counter again to watch you as you cooked. Occasionally he asked you a question about what you were doing.

“The chicken takes a little longer to cook than the veggies, so I’m adding that to the broth first,” you explained. “The order you add things affects the flavor, too.”

“How many times have I offered to teach ya to cook, Sunarin?” Osamu called from the other room. “Guess ya only wanna learn when Y/n’s doin’ the teaching.”

Suna glared at him over his shoulder before turning his attention back to what you were doing. “I didn’t really have to know how before.”

“It’s never too late to learn,” you reassured him.

“Nothin’ sexier than a man who knows how to cook!” Osamu yelled, grinning. Suna ignored him, but you noticed the tips of his ears turning pink.

When the food was nearly done, you asked Osamu to clear a space on the coffee table. With Suna’s help, you carried over the meal you had cooked together, setting down the steaming bowls of soup, rice, and vegetables in front of the twins.

“My nose is all stuffed up, but this still smells so good,” Atsumu said, eyes closed as he sniffed the air.

“Yeah, your cooking’s always the best, Y/n,” Osamu agreed as he reached out with both hands for a bowl of soup.

“Oh, I picked up your favorite tea on the way over here, too,” you said, going back to the kitchen.

“What?! You really are the best!” Atsumu wailed. You walked back into the living room, carrying two mugs in each hand. “What did we ever do to deserve you?”

“It’s a mystery to me,” you replied, but the smile on your face was gentle as you handed the twins their tea. You passed the third mug to Suna, and the look he gave you was nothing short of tender as you sat next to him on the floor. The sight of it made your heart pound in your chest.

When you had all finished eating, you and Suna carried the dishes back to the kitchen while the twins dozed on the couch. After packing up the leftovers, you started washing the dishes and cooking pots, with Suna drying and putting them away.

“Thanks for making dinner for us,” he said quietly, not making eye contact with you.

“Of course,” you said, offering him a smile. “I don’t mind doing it.”

“You must really like those two idiots, if you’re willing to do so much for them.”

You looked over the counter into the living room where the twins were passed out on the couch. Osamu was curled up on his side, his head leaning against the armrest and blanket tucked up tight around him; Atsumu had his head thrown back, mouth hanging open as he snored softly. The sight of them sleeping so peacefully made a feeling of warmth spread throughout your chest.

“I’ve known them since we were three,” you told Suna, gaze still pointed towards the twins. “They’re like brothers to me.” You paused for a moment, thinking, before turning your attention back to the dishes in the sink. “I think it’s normal to want to do things for the people you care about.”

You caught Suna’s eye as you looked up to pass him a freshly-washed plate. He was staring at you intently, brows slightly furrowed, but you couldn’t quite name the expression on his face.

It came as no surprise when, a few days after taking care of the twins, you came down with a bad cold of your own. You managed to suffer through your classes and had just returned to your room to sleep for the rest of the day when, less than five minutes after changing into your pajamas and climbing into bed, there was a knock at your door.

“It’s open,” you called out, thinking it was one of the girls from your floor coming to check on you.

When Suna stepped into your room, you nearly fell in your haste to jump out of bed.

“Sorry, was I not supposed to come in?” he asked as you disentangled yourself from the blankets.

“No, I just wasn’t expecting it to be you,” you told him. You grabbed a hoodie from your closet and quickly pulled it on over your tank top, attempting to hide the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra.

“Oh,” was all he said. The two of you stood there staring at each other awkwardly for a moment, before you noticed the bag he was holding in his hand.

“What’s that?” you asked, pointing at it.

Suna blinked as if he had suddenly remembered why he was there. “The guys told me you weren’t feeling well,” he said, setting the bag down on your desk and pulling a container out of it, “so I thought I’d bring you some soup.” His voice got softer at the end, and you noticed a slight blush on his cheeks as he held it out to you.

He must have made it and immediately brought it over to your dorm, because the container was still hot to the touch. You struggled to keep your lower lip from shaking at the sheer thoughtfulness of it. “That’s really sweet, Suna. Thank you.”

“It’s probably not nearly as good as yours, but…” his voice trailed off. He scratched at the back of his head, the blush deepening on his face. “I tried to do what you showed me the other night.”

“Do you wanna have some with me?” you asked, but you were already taking down two bowls from the shelf above your desk and pouring out a serving for each of you, before putting the rest in your mini fridge. You ate a spoonful, eyes closing as you savored the taste. “Mmm, this is really good, Sunarin!” you smiled at him.

“It’s not bad,” he said, grinning a little bit.

“It’s really good for your first try!” you pressed on. “You know, if you want more practice, you can cook for me anytime.”

He snorted. “Yeah, that’d be a pretty sweet deal for you. But what would I get out of it?”

“Duh, you’d get to spend more time with me.”

“Oh, then pass.”

“Suna!” You pretended to pout, earning a genuine laugh from him. It felt good to joke around with him again, after not being in contact with him at all over the winter break.

“Do you wanna hang out for a bit?” he asked when you had finished eating, setting his empty bowl on your desk. “Or were you just planning on sleeping for the rest of the day?”

You were a little taken aback at his question, since he had gone out of his way to avoid Atsumu and Osamu when they were sick. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll catch whatever I have?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “If I was gonna catch it, I would have caught it from Thing 1 and Thing 2 already.” His expression faltered a little. “We don’t have to if you don’t want—”

“No, I do!” you said, a little too quickly in your eagerness to not let this chance slip through your fingers. “I just don’t want to get you sick, that’s all.”

“I’ll be fine.” Suna rolled his eyes, smiling. “You wanna watch a movie? I’ll let you choose, since you’re sick.”

“Oh, how magnanimous of you,” you teased as you carried your laptop over to your bed. You sat down, propped up against the pillows, and shifted to the side so Suna could sit next to you. “Can we watch ‘The Devil Wears Prada’?”

“Sure.”

“I feel like you’d kin Miranda Priestly.”

“I will leave this room, right now,” he threatened, beginning to stand up.

“No, no! I was only joking!” you laughed, grabbing his arm and pulling him back down. He rubbed at his face, but you could see his slight smile hidden behind his hand.

The movie was almost over before Suna realized that you had fallen asleep on his shoulder. When he first felt your head lean against him, the pounding of his heart had prevented him from daring to look at your face, but after several of his comments had gone ignored, he finally peered down at you, surprised to see your eyes closed. When the credits rolled, he had intended to get up and let you rest, but when he tried to move, your body shifted to turn towards him, an arm reaching out to wrap around his torso.

“Rin,” you murmured in your sleep, and the sound of your voice saying his name caused all of his resolve to disappear.

With you sleeping so peacefully, your warm body pressed up against his, Suna couldn’t bring himself to risk accidentally waking you up. The sun had already set, making your room dark and cozy, and so he figured he could wait there for a little bit until you woke up from your nap. Lifting one of his arms to put it around your shoulders, he closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, sunlight was streaming in through the window. He blinked blearily, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His movements prompted you to wake up, your gaze slowly focusing to find yourself leaning on his chest like a pillow.

“Guess we were both more tired than we thought,” he said, his voice raspy from sleep.

“Mmph,” you mumbled, noticing a damp spot on his shirt from where you had drooled on him. God, how embarrassing.

“How are you feeling?” he asked softly, shifting to look down at you.

“A little better,” you said. Sitting up properly, you rubbed at your face, attempting to hide your blush from him. “Sorry that I fell asleep on you.”

“It’s okay,” he said, smiling a little before his face shifted into a more teasing expression. “Did you know that you mumble in your sleep?”

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands even more. “Yeah, I’m aware.”

“It’s kinda cute.”

“Please don’t make fun of me this early in the morning.”

Suna pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time. “Ugh… I’ve got class at 9:45. I gotta go home to shower and get ready before then.” He stood up and stretched his arms over his head. You lowered your hands from your face just in time to catch a glimpse of his toned stomach as his shirt lifted up; the sight of it made your cheeks burn anew, your head turning quickly so he wouldn’t notice you staring.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, Y/n,” he said, putting on his coat.

“Thanks again for coming over,” you said, forcing yourself to look him in the eye.

He grinned a little sheepishly as he made his way to the door. “Well, ya know… you gotta do things for the people you care about.”

Stepping out into the brisk early springtime air, you spotted a familiar head of dark hair a few yards in front of you.

“Hey, Sunarin!” you called out, waving at him when he turned around. He stopped walking to allow you to catch up with him. “Are you done with class for the day?”

“Yeah, but I’ve got practice.”

“Mind if I walk with you?”

He didn’t respond, but the slight shrug of his shoulders as he took off again told you that he wasn’t bothered by your company. You walked side by side, your hands brushing against each other’s occasionally, each brief contact setting off butterflies in your stomach. If it had any effect on Suna, he didn’t let it show.

“Have you thought about what classes you’re gonna take next semester?” you asked.

“Not really,” he said. “Why, you gonna start stalking me?” he added, lips quirking up into a grin.

“Just making conversation,” you grumbled, turning your face so he wouldn’t see your blush.

“Y/n!”

You looked up in the direction the voice came from to see a guy from one of your classes making his way over to you. You greeted him politely, and he launched into a conversation about the latest paper you had been assigned, falling into step beside you.

“Are you doing anything now? You wanna go get dinner with me?” he asked eventually.

“Oh, I can’t, actually,” you told him. “I have plans with a friend tonight.”

His face fell a little, but he quickly bounced back. “That’s alright, some other time maybe.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know what you’re doing for spring break yet?”

“I’m not really sure, I’ll probably just stay on campus,” you said.

“Oh, me too!” he said, grinning at you. “Maybe we could get together then.”

You had reached a branch in the path, and he turned right to continue towards the dining hall.

“See ya around!” he said with a wave.

You waved back, noticing that Suna’s eyes lingered on the other guy’s back as he walked away.

“That dude likes you,” he said in a deadpan voice.

“Huh?”

“He was trying to ask you out, dumbass.”

“What? No he wasn’t. I don’t think he’d do that in front of you.”

“Well, if he asks you again you should say yes.” Suna was smirking at you, but his voice was devoid of any emotion.

His words pricked at your heart, making your chest feel tight. The idea of him encouraging you to go out with someone else was a little upsetting. You turned your head away from him.

“Yeah, maybe,” you said absentmindedly. In truth, you had no interest in going out with that other guy, but Suna’s comment had left you unsure of what to say.

His brows creased a bit. Turning back to look at him, you saw that his gaze was significantly colder than it had been before. You opened your mouth to ask him what was wrong, but he cut you off before you could.

“I’m gonna be late for practice,” he said flatly, walking off quickly and leaving you to stand alone on the path.

After that day, things between you and Suna were different. He was suddenly making himself even more scarce than usual, and during the few times when you managed to see him, he was quieter than before. You couldn’t think of what would make him act so coldly towards you, and the possible explanations you came up with in your mind only made you feel worse.

You were waiting outside the gym one evening for Atsumu and Suna to get out of practice. When you saw them walking out the door you went over to greet them, handing over the bag of pork buns you had picked up at the convenience store.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Atsumu said, gratefully accepting the food you offered him; Suna, however, stepped away before you could pass it to him.

“Sorry, I’ve got stuff to do,” he said cryptically before turning from you.

“We were planning on playing Smash later, are you gonna be around?” you asked.

“Probably not,” was all he said, waving one hand over his shoulder as he walked away.

Stung, you turned to Atsumu. “Suna’s been avoiding me, right? I haven’t been imagining that?”

Mouth full of pork bun, he shook his head. Swallowing thickly, he said, “Nope, he’s definitely been MIA lately. I don’t know why, though.” Seeing the way you bit your lower lip in worry, he was quick to speak again. “I’m sure it’s got nothin’ to do with you! Sunarin’s probably just busy.”

“Do you think he’s seeing someone?” You couldn’t stop yourself from asking.

“Nah, if he was I’d know about it. He’s never brought anyone back to the house.” He crammed half a pork bun into his mouth, struggling to chew it. “Honestly, he might just be a little homesick.”

“What?” It was hard to imagine someone like Suna being homesick; considering he spent so much time on his own, you didn’t think of him as the type of person to miss anyone.

“I mean, he told me he’s goin’ home for spring break to spend time with his sister,” Atsumu explained. “He must really miss her.”

You couldn’t help but feel disappointed at the news. A part of you had hoped that Suna’s avoidance of you actually was due to his busy schedule, and you had been looking forward to your spring break as the perfect opportunity to get some quality time with him. The fact that he wasn’t going to be there confirmed your doubts, proving, in your mind at least, that he really didn’t want to be around you anymore.

“You got any more of these?” Atsumu’s voice brought you out of your own thoughts.

“Yeah, here,” you said, giving him the bag of pork buns intended for Suna.

He continued chattering the whole walk back to the house, but you hardly processed a word. You were too busy wondering about what you could have possibly done to make Suna no longer want to be your friend.

It had been several weeks since you had spent any time with Suna, aside from the brief moments when you saw each other at the house when you were visiting the twins, but he always gave an excuse as to why he couldn’t hang around. You knew he was a private person, but his sudden avoidance of you hurt twice as much after he had seemed to be getting more comfortable around you. Several times you had texted him to ask if he wanted to get food with you or watch a movie together, but he either claimed he was too busy with classes, or ignored you altogether. Eventually, you gave up trying to contact him.

But that didn’t stop your heart from fluttering when you did see him in person. You found yourself living for the moments when you would be sitting in the living room with Osamu or Atsumu, and Suna would come downstairs, giving you a quick nod before rushing out the door; or when you would be hanging out in Osamu’s room and Suna would walk down the hallway, locking eyes with you for half a second before going into his own room and shutting the door behind him. Each time you hoped he would stop and actually say something to you, and each time you were left disappointed.

So it came as a surprise when, one day when you and Osamu were in his kitchen making onigiri together, Suna came downstairs and actually lingered for a bit, even after spotting you. Not wanting to scare him off, you bit your tongue as he sat on the counter, watching you form the rice balls with your hands.

“Those look good,” he said; you weren’t sure if he was addressing you or Osamu.

“Here,” Osamu said, putting some on a plate and passing it to his friend. “You headin’ out soon?”

Suna nodded, his mouth full of rice. “Yeah, I’ve gotta meet with my advisor.”

“We’re going out to eat later, you should come. You haven’t hung out with us in a while.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve been kinda flakey lately,” he said, his tone apologetic.

You couldn’t help yourself. Looking him in the eye, you spoke. “We’ve missed you, Rintarou. It’s not as fun without you around.”

“Gee, thanks,” Osamu muttered, but you hardly heard him. For the first time in weeks, Suna was looking directly at you, his gaze almost soft.

“Can’t imagine how rough it must be for you to have to spend time with these two goons,” he said, grinning.

“I’m standing right here, man,” Osamu said, his voice sounding only slightly annoyed.

You laughed, and to your amazement Suna returned it. You could feel your heart pounding against your ribs, hopeful that this awkward tension between you two was finally over.

“Text me when you guys are leaving, okay?” he said, hopping down off the counter and making for the front door. “I’ll meet you there.”

You couldn’t keep the giddy smile off your face even after he left. The thought of spending time with him again was almost too much for you.

“I wish you guys would just fuckin’ kiss already,” Osamu griped, his hands still deftly forming perfectly-shaped onigiri.

“Huh?!” you spluttered, nearly choking as his words sank in. “Who?”

“You and Sunarin, you clown. Do ya have any idea how painful it’s been watchin’ you two idiots for the past few months? Jesus, even ’Tsumu noticed.”

“Noticed what?”

“That you guys like each other!”

“I don’t—wha—,” you fumbled over your words, not entirely sure what to say. “Suna doesn’t like me!”

“Uh huh, yeah, okay. Y/n, the man made you a whole-ass pot of soup when you were sick. I’ve known him for years and he won’t even let me borrow his phone charger.”

“If he likes me, then why has he spent the last two months completely ignoring me?”

“Because Rintarou has the emotional intelligence of a fuckin’ cantaloupe.” Osamu finally turned to look at you, his hands resting on his hips. “Look, he’s never actually liked someone before—not for real, anyway—so I don’t think he knows what to do about you. He’s never gonna fess up and tell you how he feels, so his next best option is to just avoid you entirely. But he’s been missing you, real bad. I can tell.”

“So I’m supposed to be the one to tell him?”

Osamu smirked at you. “So you actually like him?”

You paused for a moment, sucking in a breath. “Yeah, I like him.”

It was the first time you had admitted it even to yourself. A wave of relief immediately washed over you, as if you had been holding onto a secret that you no longer had to hide.

Ignoring the blush you felt creeping onto your face, you forced yourself to look at your friend.

“But isn’t that weird for you? I mean, we’re your best friends, would you really be okay with it if we started dating?”

Osamu glanced up as he thought about it, taking in a deep breath and exhaling loudly. “It’d be a little weird at first, but I’d get used to it. But it doesn’t matter how I feel about it.” He looked back down at you. “If you’re happy, then I’m happy.”

“’Samu,” you wailed, “you’re gonna make me cry.”

“So, you gonna tell him or what?”

“I don’t know… what if he doesn’t feel that way about me?”

“He definitely does.”

“Well, maybe it’s just not a good idea for us to date… I mean, neither of us has ever been in a real relationship before, what if we just crash and burn?”

Osamu took in another deep breath, looking as if he was preparing himself for something unpleasant. “Look, you know I’m not a sappy guy, and I feel gross even saying this, but honestly, you and Rintarou are two of the most compatible people I’ve ever met. Even I can see how cute you guys are together. You’d be stupid not to date him.”

“Seriously, ’Samu, you’re actually gonna make me cry.”

“Whatever,” he said, turning back to make more onigiri. “Just hurry up and confess already, I miss hangin’ out with my friends.”

You waited until Atsumu and Osamu were out of the house; that way, if things didn’t go well, you could quietly slip away to collect your dignity without having to answer any questions from them first.

You stood in Suna’s doorway, heart pounding furiously in your chest as you steeled yourself for what you were about to do. He was sitting on his bed with his headphones on, looking at something on his laptop, but when you knocked on the door frame he glanced up, noticing you for the first time.

“Hey, Rintarou,” you said, your voice a little shaky. “Can we talk?”

He took his headphones off and shut his laptop, setting it to the side and scooting forward to sit on the edge of the bed. “Yeah, of course. What’s up?”

Forcing yourself to take a deep breath, you stepped into his room and sat down next to him. He was looking at you intently, a small crease between his brows. You glanced down at your lap, fingers twisting nervously, before looking at his face again. If you weren’t honest with him now, you never would be.

“I like you,” you said bluntly, “more than just a friend.” Suna’s lips parted slightly as if he wanted to say something, but no sound came out. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way,” you continued, really struggling now to hold his gaze. “I just… I had to tell you. And I’m sorry if that makes things weird between us, that’s not what I want. Your friendship means a lot to me and I don’t want to lose that, so even if you don’t—”

“Y/n.”

Your words caught in your throat, afraid of what he was about to say.

“Can I kiss you?” His voice was impossibly soft, the question sounding so delicate as it fell past his lips.

You could have sworn your heart stopped beating for a moment. You nodded your head. “Yes.”

Suna’s hand reached up to cup your cheek before he leaned in, agonizingly slowly, to press his mouth to yours. His lips were so soft, his touch incredibly gentle. Placing both hands on the back of his neck, you melted into him, sighing as his other arm wrapped around your waist to pull you in closer. You could feel him grinning against your lips just before he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against yours.

“I like you, too,” he said softly.

Returning his smile, you leaned in to fit your mouth to his again, relishing the way it felt to be held by him, to have him kiss you so tenderly. It took all of your willpower to pull away from him.

“Rin, I have to go,” you whispered against his lips.

“What?” His expression was puzzled as you abruptly stood up.

“I have class in ten minutes,” you explained, making your way to the door.

“So you’re just gonna drop that on me and then dip?”

You turned to look at him over your shoulder, grinning. “Yup.”

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, but the smile was still on his face even as you left.

The first few weeks after you and Suna started dating passed by in a blur. The heartache you had felt when he kept his distance from you had been replaced by a constant feeling of joy at the knowledge that you were together now. You still got butterflies every time you saw him, your heart melting each time you pressed a kiss into his cheek and saw a blush creep onto his face.

The only complaint you had was that after three weeks, you and Suna still hadn’t slept together. It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried, but there was always something that prevented you from actually succeeding: he was too exhausted after finishing volleyball practice; you both had term papers to work on; someone on your floor burnt popcorn in the microwave, setting off the fire alarm. The closest you two came to doing anything was one night when you thought you had the house to yourselves. You and Suna were making out on his bed, and he was just about to take off your shirt when Atsumu suddenly burst into the room to ask if they were all out of laundry detergent. He had quickly left, smirking, after realizing what he was interrupting, but you were too embarrassed to continue after he closed the door.

At this point, it had been over a year since you last had sex, and you were starting to go a little crazy. You were pretty sure Suna knew it, too, based on the smirks he gave you when he happened to catch the way you would stare at him periodically. After the length of time it took for you two to finally admit your feelings for each other, it was incredibly frustrating that the universe seemed to be keeping you apart again.

The end of the semester rolled around, and the twins decided to throw another big party before finals week. You managed to convince Suna to not hide in his room the entire time, and to your amazement he seemed to be having a good time, laughing in the corner with some friends from the volleyball team.

You were sitting on the couch next to Osamu, slowly sipping the beer in your hand. He was talking to you about your plans for the summer, but you couldn’t stop your attention from drifting over to your boyfriend every once in a while, grinning at him each time you happened to catch his eye.

“Our parents are renting that beach house for two weeks in July, you wanna come with us again?” Osamu asked, drawing your gaze back to his face.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, that sounds fun,” you said, a little distracted.

“Your boyfriend can come, too, of course,” he smirked.

“Shut up,” you groaned, trying to hide your blushing face by downing the rest of your drink.

“Bet you’re gonna miss him, yeah? Three months is a long time to be apart from your lover.”

“I swear to god, ’Samu, if you don’t shut the fuck up…” you grumbled, but you couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face at your friend’s teasing.

Osamu’s attention was stolen then by someone asking him to go do shots, so you got up and walked to the kitchen by yourself to throw out your empty beer bottle. After you tossed it in the bin, you felt warm hands encircle your waist and a familiar voice whispered into your ear.

“It’s getting kinda crowded down here, you wanna go upstairs?” Suna’s warm breath tickled your ear, making you shiver in his arms. Turning around to face him, you gave him a quick kiss before taking him by the hand and leading the way to the stairs.

Closing his bedroom door muffled the sounds of the party, and you were able to breathe easier now that you were alone with him. Suna scrolled through his phone briefly before finding the playlist he was searching for, setting his phone down once the music started playing.

“Hey,” you said, grinning as you recognized the song, “this is the same playlist that you put on the night we met.”

He took a few steps towards you, arms snaking around your waist to pull you in close. “I know,” he said simply before leaning down to kiss you. You allowed him to deepen it, lips parting for his tongue, hands grasping at the fabric of his shirt.

Without breaking away, Suna guided you to his bed, gently laying you down and crawling on top of you, his knee coming up to press between your legs. You moaned into his mouth, feeling him grin against you. Breathing hard, you pulled his shirt over his head, leaning back so that you could look at him. You had known he was fit from all the times your body had been pressed against his, but seeing his muscular form with your own eyes was different. You squirmed under him, feeling your arousal growing between your thighs.

“I’ve wanted this for a long time, Y/n,” he whispered, leaning down to press kisses into your neck.

“I know,” you murmured.

“Yeah?” He pulled your shirt off of you, warm hands burning into your skin. “Do you know what I’m gonna do next?” he teased in a low voice, mouth moving down over your collarbones as his hands came up to cup your breasts, thumbs rolling over your nipples through your bra.

“Rin,” you whined when he pulled down the fabric to suck one of your nipples into his mouth, his other hand coming to rest between your thighs, groaning against your skin when he felt the wetness seeping through your shorts.

“Yeah, baby?” He was kissing a line down your stomach, goosebumps rising in his wake. He tugged off your shorts and panties together as you sat up to unhook your bra, tossing it onto the floor without taking your eyes off his face. Your hands immediately moved to the waistband of his pants, unbuttoning them as you planted sloppy kisses across his chest. He wriggled out of them and threw them to the side, before wrapping a hand around each of your legs and spreading them apart. “Is this what you wanted?” he asked, lips gliding over the soft skin of your inner thigh. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me, baby. I know how badly you want this.”

You whimpered, fingers running through his hair and gripping tightly. His warm breath ghosted over your skin, making you shiver again. A loud moan escaped you when he finally pressed his tongue against your pussy, running slowly over your folds and circling around your clit before moving back down. He repeated the motion, making your breath come out in short pants as your fingers tangled themselves further in his hair.

“God, you taste so sweet,” he moaned against you. His hands pressed down on your hipbones, pinning you in place as you started trembling around him, small whimpers leaving your mouth the closer you came to your release. You drew your legs up, the heel of one of your feet resting on his back as your spine arched, pressing into his mouth.

“Fuck, Rin, I’m so close,” you gasped out. He hummed, hands reaching up to trace his fingertips along your sides. You started moving your hips and he stilled, holding his tongue out for you to grind against. Within seconds you were cumming, legs shaking and nails digging almost painfully into his scalp. He kept his mouth open to allow you to ride out your high, gaze trained on your face.

“You’re so cute, baby,” he murmured, moving to plant a row of kisses up your throat and over your jaw. “So fucking cute.” His lips fitted against yours as he grinded into you, the friction against your clit making you gasp.

“Rin,” you whispered, pulling away to look in his eyes, “lie down.”

He rolled off of you, reaching out with both hands to pull you on top of him. You kissed him once, teasingly, before sitting up and gazing down at him. With one finger, you traced a line from his throat down over his chest and stomach, coming to rest where the skin dipped down between his hipbones, smiling to yourself at the way he shivered from your touch. Hooking your fingers underneath the waistband of his boxers, you gently tugged them off of him, watching the way his thick cock sprang out to slap against his abs. Heart pounding excitedly, you dragged your nails over the top of his thigh, pleased when his muscles tensed beneath you.

“Don’t tease me, baby,” he groaned, fingers digging into your arm. “I’ve had to wait so long for this.”

You would have been content to make him wait even longer, wanting to hear him begging you to touch him, but the pleading look in his eyes softened your resolve. “I know,” you purred, leaning down to run your tongue along the underside of his shaft, grinning to yourself when you heard his sharp inhale. You swirled your tongue around the tip, letting your spit run down his length, before wrapping your lips around his cock.

Soft moans and pants reached your ears as you slowly took all of him into your mouth. When the head of his cock hit the back of your throat you paused, tears forming at the corners of your eyes from the stretch of your jaw. You slid your tongue along his cock as you hummed lightly, eliciting a loud groan from him. Your hand came to grip his cock as you started bobbing your head up and down, moving in tandem with your mouth. Suna tilted his head to watch you, his chest rising and falling heavily. Keeping your eyes on his face, your mouth left his cock with a wet pop and moved down to suck on his balls, your hand continuing to jerk him off.

“F-fuck,” he moaned, throwing his head back against the pillow. His fingers entwined themselves in your hair, gripping firmly, but you had reached the limit of your patience. You crawled back on top of him, thighs planted on either side of his hips, and used your hand to drag his cock along the folds of your cunt.

“I wanna feel you, Rin,” you said breathlessly as his hands gripped your hips. “Wanna feel you inside me.”

Pressing his tip into you, you slowly sank down onto him, loving the way his mouth fell open as you took him completely inside you. The stretch made you gasp, head falling forward to rest against the crook of his neck. You kissed the skin just below his ear as you started grinding your hips against him, his fingers digging into your soft flesh. The sensation on your clit made you moan into his skin.

“Does that feel good, baby?” he whispered.

“Feels good,” you whimpered, your pace quickening. “S-so good.”

“Oh fuck, you’re so tight…”

The knot in your stomach was rapidly tightening. A few more motions were all it took for you to be cumming again; you pressed your lips against Suna’s, tongue reaching into his mouth as your orgasm washed over you.

When your hips stilled, he lifted you off of him and flipped you over onto your back, nipping at the skin of your neck as he repositioned himself between your legs. With a groan, he sank into you again, hips snapping against you urgently. Your body already felt worn out, but the sensation of him fucking you so deeply had you clawing at his back, desperately trying to pull him closer to you. He lifted your trembling legs onto his shoulders, the new angle of his cock thrusting into you making you cry out.

“Is that your spot, baby?” he crooned, repeatedly hitting the place that made your breath catch in your throat.

“Yes, yes, yes, right there, Rin, p-please don’t stop!” you babbled. One of your hands reached out to grab his and bring it to your neck, eyes pleading with him.

His fingers tightened around your throat. “Fuck, you look so cute taking my cock like that. You gonna cum again, pretty girl? Gonna cum all over my cock for me?”

His grip on your throat was making you lightheaded, the friction against your clit sending pleasant vibrations throughout your entire body. The spot his cock was hitting inside your pussy had you hurtling towards the edge again, eyes rolling back as you incoherently begged him not to stop.

“Rin, I-I’m cumming—fuck, fuck, fuck,” you practically sobbed as your pussy clenched around him again. He released his hold on your throat, moving his hand up to lift your jaw and kiss you deeply, relishing when you moaned into his mouth. Your lips parted and he rested his forehead against yours, gazing into your eyes, continuing to pound into you as you came. His breath stuttered as his thrusts grew more erratic, his face flushed as his cock throbbed inside you, hot cum filling your cunt.

“Fuck, Y/n,” he murmured against your lips before kissing you again, slower than before. He pulled out and laid down beside you, breathing hard. You reached up to brush the loose strands of hair out of his face, fingers running over his cheekbones.

“Why did we wait so long to do this,” you asked, making him laugh.

“We’re so fucking stupid,” he said with a grin.

You exhaled happily, moving closer to him and nestling your head against his chest. His arm reached out to wrap around you and press his palm into your spine to pull you closer. He was warm, but your uncovered body shivered against the chill in the air, goosebumps rising along your skin.

“Here, cutie,” he said, shifting so that he could pull the comforter over you. “Comfy?”

“Hmm,” you hummed, closing your eyes and pressing a kiss into his collarbone.

With Rin’s arm around you and his steady heartbeat in your ear, you fell asleep almost instantly, feeling more content than you had in a long time.

You woke up before Suna. He had moved in his sleep, now lying on his back with one arm outstretched underneath your head. You watched him for a moment, smiling at the calm expression on his face, before climbing out of bed slowly, careful not to disturb him. Putting on your panties and one of Suna’s oversized t-shirts, you slipped out the door to walk to the bathroom down the hall.

Osamu and Atsumu’s doors were still closed, a fact that you were grateful for when you reached the bathroom and saw your reflection in the mirror. Your hair was a tangled mess, your neck littered with little love bites, damning indicators of what you had been up to the night before. Splashing your face with water, you tried to scrub off the smeared remnants of yesterday’s makeup. Satisfied when you no longer looked like you spent the night in a club, you crept back into your boyfriend’s room.

“Hey,” Suna mumbled when you stepped back through the doorway, propping himself up on one elbow and rubbing his eyes with the other hand.

“Hey.” You smiled at him as you shut the door.

“Take those clothes off and come back to bed.”

You giggled, shrugging out of your clothes and stepping towards his outstretched arms. He pulled you into a tight embrace, peppering your face with kisses. He settled you down on your side next to him, pulling your thigh up to rest on his hip.

“Rin!” you squealed when you felt the tip of his cock prodding at your entrance.

“I just wanna be inside you, baby,” he murmured. His touch had already made you wet, allowing his cock to slide into you easily. You sighed as his hips pressed up against yours.

His lips met with yours, his kiss achingly sweet. “I don’t ever want you to leave this bed,” he breathed out. You smiled against his lips, fingers running through his soft hair. He shifted his hips then, and the sensation was too much for you.

“O-oh,” you whimpered as your pussy tightened around him.

“Are you cumming?” he asked, the corner of his lips quirking up into a grin.

“Sh-shut up.”

He didn’t say anything else, simply tightening his arms around you and kissing you again. The two of you lay like that for a while, slipping into a peaceful state of half-sleep, until the sound of a distant door being flung open pulled you back.

“Fuck,” Suna mumbled under his breath. Not a second later, a loud knock sounded from the other side of his door.

“Sunariiiiin,” Atsumu’s voiced whined from the hallway. “Are you guys up yet?”

“Is that door locked?” Suna whispered to you. Commending yourself for your earlier foresight, you nodded. “Good.”

“Suna! Y/n!” He pounded on the door. “I know you guys can hear me, come on!”

“I gotta get my own place,” Suna grumbled, his eyes still closed. You giggled, and when the knocking on the door stopped you snuggled in closer to him, ready to go back to sleep.

Until your phone started ringing.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you groaned, reaching out to grab it from the nightstand. “What do you want, Atsumu?”

“Aha! I knew you were awake!” He sounded very pleased with himself for succeeding in getting you to talk to him. “Can you make me pancakes?��

There was a pause as his question sank in. Holding your phone to your head and staring at Suna, you pulled away from him and sat up, eliciting a low groan from him. “You want me to make you pancakes?” you repeated in an incredulous voice. Suna cracked open his eyes, his face scrunching up as he heard Atsumu’s request.

“Yeah!”

“Get Osamu to do it.”

“He doesn’t make them as good as you!”

You could practically hear him pouting on the other end of the line. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you heaved a sigh. “Give me a minute.”

“Thankyouthankyouthanky—” You ended the call before he finished. Climbing out of bed, you pulled on your clothes again.

“Are you actually gonna do it?” Suna asked.

“He’s just gonna keep harassing us until I do it anyway,” you said. “Besides, it’s almost ten o’clock, we might as well get up.”

Suna rolled over and pressed his face into the pillow, groaning loudly. Grinning, you tossed a clean pair of boxers and a shirt at him.

Atsumu looked way too happy when you finally appeared downstairs. He and Osamu were sitting at the kitchen counter together; they nudged a steaming mug towards you when you walked in.

“We made you coffee,” he said, his grin wide across his face.

“Uh huh,” you grumbled.

“Where’s mine?” Suna asked as he trailed in behind you.

“Make your own, dick,” Osamu told him, smirking as he sipped his own drink.

Suna rolled his eyes, going to pour himself a cup from the coffeemaker.

Trying to hide your laughter from him, you gathered up the ingredients and set to work. When all the pancakes were done cooking you passed half of them across the counter to the twins.

“Mmm,” Atsumu hummed, closing his eyes as he took a bite. “So good.”

“I gotta teach you how to make these yourself, ’Tsumu,” you said, taking a bite of your own breakfast.

“Yeah, that way you clowns can let us sleep in for once,” Suna added.

“Don’t pretend, Y/n,” Atsumu said, “you know you love seeing my cute little face first thing in the morning.”

“I prefer seeing ’Samu’s, actually,” you teased. Osamu stuck his tongue out at his twin, laughing at his crumpled expression.

When you all finished eating, Atsumu and Osamu jumped up to wash the dishes for you. Holding your mug of coffee with both hands, you leaned into Suna’s side.

Looking over his shoulder at you two, Osamu grinned. “So, how was your night?”

“Fine,” you said in a casual tone.

“And that’s all you’re gonna get out of us,” Suna finished.

Osamu rolled his eyes, turning back to the dishes in the sink. “As if I’d want any details.”

“My night was great, thanks for asking,” Atsumu chimed in.

“Yeah? Was that before or after you puked in the backyard?”

“’Samu!”

You couldn’t help the relaxed smile that found its way onto your face, happy to get to listen to them teasing each other like always. With one hand resting on the counter, Suna’s other reached around your waist to tug you closer, fitting your body against his. Standing there laughing with your friends, with his arm around you, felt like the most natural thing in the world.

➣epilogue

➣masterlist

#i loooooove making rintarou feel emotions #that's my main kink #this is pretty long but it's only because i have so many thoughts okay!!!!!!#suna #suna rintarou #suna x reader #suna rintarou x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #suna fluff #suna rintarou fluff #haikyuu fluff #suna angst #suna rintarou angst #haikyuu angst #niakasi writing

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jisungsplatforms · 3 years

Text

Humph!!

Pairing: Seo Changbin x fem! reader

Genre: NSFW! Smut, minimal amount of angst (if you squint), fluff (happy happy ending!); non idol au, enemies to lovers, college au

Warning: Mature content! (DNI if you are uncomfortable or UNDERAGED); language, name calling, reader is kind of a jerk, erotic asphyxiation, use of pets names, hint of degrading, praise kink (implied), fingering (f), oral (f&m), PIV, unprotected sex (be careful with this!), unintended voyeurism (Chan and Jisung accidentally hears reader and Changbin getting it on)

Seo Changbin.

Or as you like to call him, the bane of your existence. You wouldn’t exactly call yourself the ‘petty type’ but how could you ever forget about the boy who pulled on your hair and cut in front of you during lunch time, only to get the last middle piece of pizza- a slice that was supposed to be yours, in middle school? And yes, while it is something so small, so trivial, that you should’ve easily forgotten all about it, you just couldn’t for he just seemed to pop up around you every. single. day. Oh, the list of ways he picked on you could go on and on. It was like whenever he saw you, he just had to push your buttons as if it’s his little demented mission to irk you for the rest of your life.

No one has ever made your blood boil more than he has. It makes your blood boil even more when you, yourself, couldn’t even deny the fact that the once scrawny, immature boy turned to the hottest, most muscular (and fuckable) man you’ve ever seen. Now here you are, as college juniors, and you two are still going at each other’s throats. And of course, no matter how older you get, the two of you will always find time to bicker with each other for the littlest things

“WHAT KIND OF AN IDIOT ARE YOU?” you yell, looking at Changbin in disgust. “WHAT NORMAL HUMAN BEING DOES THAT?!”

He rolls his eyes at you, clicking his tongue, “Well, excuse me for having COLD FEET. SO WHAT YOU THINK ITS WEIRD? I GET COLD EASILY AT NIGHT SO LET ME WEAR MY SOCKS TO SLEEP IN PEACE, WOMAN!” Changbin yells back, glaring at you.

Ahh, yes. Today’s fight is now on whether or not wearing socks to bed is considered ‘abnormal’. Cause what else could you argue about?

“BUT…It’s so WEIRD! Can’t you, like, invest in some thicker blankets instead? There are better options than wearing SOCKS IN BED.”

“WHAT? IS IT A CRIME TO WEAR SOCKS TO-”

Jisung interrupts Changbin by slamming one of his hands down onto the table. “God… SHUT UP! CAN YOU TWO JUST FUCK ALREADY?!” he moans in irritation. Chan lightly shoves Jisung in retaliation, scolding him for being too loud. Jisung looks at him and pouts, mumbling a quick ‘sorry’. Chan sighs, finally looking at your startled faces .

“He’s kinda right though,” he says, calmly, “not exactly about the, uhm, having sex part, though the sexual tension between you two is nauseating. But I mean about getting along with each other and finally putting an end to this ‘rivalry’.”

You and Changbin glance at each other for a brief second before scoffing. “Please. Hell would freeze over before we do,” you sneer, side eyeing him.

“I’d rather kiss an electric eel than make up with that snake of a woman,” Changbin mumbles, looking away from you.

“How about I arrange that for you?” you smile, using the fakest sweet voice you could muster. Changbin turns to you with a scoff.

“You are such a-”

“Enough!” Chan says with a stern tone he almost never uses. The look Chan was giving you both was enough to shut you up and intimidate you; hell even Jisung was scared! “Either make up on your own by the end of the month, or else. Understand?”

Both you and Changbin sigh in irritation before agreeing. “Yes…”

“I mean it! Y/n, Changbin! This is getting ridiculous now. Honestly, you guys are full grown adults but you act like children, and not the good ones! Think of the other people you’re affecting with your behaviors.”

Silence fell upon your whole table. You could only nod your head shamefully at Chan’s words, while Changbin clicks his tongue but not say anything else. Jisung looks around the table, the uncomfortable silence making the poor boy feel antsy.

“Good,” Chan leans back, his cheerful demeanor coming back, “One month, that’s it. And play nice!”

“This is stupid,” Changbin groans, leaning back on his chair. You roll your eyes at him.

“Shut it. Remember, this is for the sake of our friends.”

Ever since that day- the day Chan scared the shit out of you both- you and Changbin made an agreement to try and be civil around one another. It wasn’t very nice, but you both knew Chan was right. You didn’t want to lose your friends because of some stupid rivalry that started 9 years ago. To fix your problem, the two of you, begrudgingly, decided to hangout with each other for the next month. Today marks your one week anniversary of your treaty.

Needless to say…you both hate it.

“If we have to hangout, can we not spend our time in a library?” the short man complains, looking at you with his sharp eyes.

“Well, sorry, but I have a chemistry test in a few days and I’m sure as hell not failing that. You know Science isn’t my best subject.”

Changbin groans, sliding down his chair. “Whatever.” he mutters distastefully. You shook your head.

“Don’t you need to study for anything too?” you asked, not even sparing him a glance.

“No. I’m done with all the tests I have to do and none of my other teachers prepped us for another one. So I’m basically free, doll.”

You cringe at Changbin calling you ‘doll’, hating how that simple pet name sent a delighted shiver down your back. You scoff.

“Disgusting,” you grimace, “Never call me that again.”

Changbin smirks, now sitting up on his chair to lean closer to you. “Whatever you say, doll.”

You look up at him with a nasty glare, resisting the urge to yell at him. “You are so lucky we’re in a library.” He laughs sardonically at you. You huff, standing up to look for a chemistry book. Changbin looks at you questioningly.

“Where’re you going?”

“Looking for more books.”

He sighs, starting to stand up as well. “No,” you stop him, “By myself.” He put his hands up, slowing sitting back down. You turn around and walk to the aisle containing the textbooks. After almost 10 minutes of searching, you still couldn’t find the book you were looking for.

“Damn, I was beginning to think you left me here by myself.”

You jolt at the sound of Changbin’s rough voice. You turn to see him leaning against the bookshelf.

“I’m not that much of a jerk,” you answer scornfully, going back to your search. You could hear Changbin’s heavy footsteps grow closer. You turn to see him standing right beside your crouching figure, looking down at you. The angle you’re seeing him in shouldn’t be making you think of such indecent thoughts. You snap your head back to the shelf as Changbin crouches with you, softly groaning as he goes down. You were trying your best not to make contact with him.

Changbin helps you look for a chemistry book, trying to be nice. You could feel yourself getting hotter at his courteousness. You really didn’t want to admit that Changbin was actually a decent person, so you couldn’t help but put up a front.

“I don’t need your help, you know?”

He sniggers, “I’m not trying to be nice. I just wanna get out of here faster.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, not getting his joke. “Geez, then get away from me,” you raised your voice, still keeping the fact that you’re still in a library in mind. “I can do it myself.”

Changbin looks at you, a little shocked. He huffs, sticking his tongue against his cheek. “Honestly, you don’t have to be such an ass around me all time, you know?” he says, quietly. You stop your actions, feeling a little bad for snapping at him. “You said yourself, you want us to try getting along, why can’t you act like it?”

You bit your bottom lip, still not looking at him. “Simple. It’s cause I hate you,” you lied. He looked at you for a few seconds before standing up. You didn’t see the look of defeat on his face.

“You know,” Changbin says slowly, “I thought we could be friends. Deep down, I really thought we actually could.” You stayed quiet, looking down. “But now I know, you’re really just a stone-cold bitch.”

That. Now that lit a fire in you. You stand up abruptly with cold eyes. “Never call me that ever again.”

“What? A bitch?” He challenges, eyes equally as cold as yours. “See, here’s the thing; It’s true. I’m trying to be nice here and you’re just shutting down every single nice act I try to do for you. And what have you done for me? Drag me around like I’m some dog? You couldn’t even have the decency to even ask where I wanted to go.”

You could feel yourself get smaller and smaller with every step he took closer to you. For someone who was only 5’6”, damn did he look big. You bit the inside of your cheek when you felt your back hit the wall.

“What’s your problem with me, Y/n? I’ve seen the way you are with Jisung and Chan. I’ve seen the way you are with your other friends. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but ever since we started college, I’ve been trying to be nicer to you. But I guess it makes sense that someone as self-centered as you wouldn’t notice.”

You let out a sarcastic “ha”. You shake your head and stare into his eyes. “I told you. I. don’t. like. you. Do I need any more of a reason?”

“Yes. Yes, you do actually.”

“Hm. Find then. You’re annoying, you’re loud, you’re simple-minded, childish, irresponsible, you don’t take things seriously, you’re whiny, messy, irritatingly cocky and seeing your face is just so infuriated that it makes me nauseous,” you list. “Want more?”

The deadly look on his face simultaneously frightens and arouses you. The sarcastic smirk he gave you, though, was hotter. “Continue.”

“You’re nothing but a show off.” With those words, Changbin’s arrogant facade broke. “You act so cool and cocky when really you’re just average at best. Everything you do. Average. You don’t have much to show for. Nothing you do is worth being proud of.”

Changbin slams his hands onto the wall, making you gasp. You stare at him with wide eyes. “Take that back,” he snarls. If you thought he was intimidating before, boy were you wrong. But something in your touch starved mind made you more horny than frightened. Feeling bold, you tilt your chin up, maliciously. “Or what, Seo?”

All of a sudden, he wraps his veiny arm around your neck, choking you. It was so arousing and so sudden that you let out an embarrassingly whiny moan. “Oh?” Changbin raises a brow with a smirk. He tightens his grip on your neck, laughing cockily when you let out another whine. “Oh, I see now,” he whispers in your ear, “You act so high and mighty, always trying to take control of things, when really you’re just some sub in disguise. Isn’t that right, doll?”

You bit your lip, eyes tearing up in sexual frustration. You eyes roll back, biting your lip harder, when his grip on your throat tightens. “Aww~ how cute. You look so pathetic like this, baby,” he says, biting the shell of your ear. You arch your back at the stimulation, grinding your hips into his with a whimper. You were so glad that you were at the farthest corner of the library. Changbin moves away from you and grabs your arm. “Let’s go. We’re leaving.”

He drags you back to your table and carelessly stuffs your belongings into your bag. He slings it over his should and harshly pulls you out of the library. His apartment wasn’t that far from the library so the two of you didn’t bother picking up a cab. The walking distance between the library and his house was only about 10 minutes or less, but to you guys, it felt like hours.

Changbin fumbles with his keys, wanting to unlock the door faster. When he succeeds, he pushes you inside, slamming and locking his door roughly. He throws your bag to the ground then proceeds to pull you into his room. He turns the knob and kicks his door open.

Once inside, he pushes you onto his bed, hovering above you. The two of you were panting heavily from the tension. “Please tell me to stop,” he breathes shakily, staring at your lips, finally saying his first words since the library. “If you don’t want this, tell me to stop before I lose it.”

Did you really want this? Do you really want him? Or is it just your hormones talking? You contemplate, thinking back on all the years you’ve known him. Yeah, you thought that he was annoying when you were younger, wanting nothing more than to push him down a well. However, as you grew up, you started to notice how mature he has gotten throughout the years. He still does make fun of you, but it wasn’t as bad as before. He did treat you like an actual human being when he wasn’t irritating you. Especially recently. He really did treat you nicely but you were too prideful yourself to admit that.

Even up to now, you said some really hurtful things to him, and he was still making sure you were okay when he could’ve just lashed out on you and done whatever he wants. Changbin is genuinely a really nice guy and you were just too stuck up to see that. In that moment, you realize that you actually like Changbin, as in, have genuine feelings for him. Maybe even way longer than you realize but you were being stubborn to acknowledge it. Speaking of, you seem to realize that you were so lost in thought that Changbin took your silence as a ‘no’.

Just as he was about to remove himself from your body, you grab onto his shirt and push your lips onto his. He was taken aback. He was convinced that you truly didn’t like him but you seem to have proved him wrong. Before he could kiss you back, you parted away from him, leaning your forehead against him. “Make me yours, Bin,” you whisper.

Without any hesitation, Changbin kisses you with fervor. The kiss held so much passion, desperation, and desire that it made you moan. You wrap your arms around his neck, messing with his dark hair. Changbin groans, grinding his hips against yours. He pulls away to take off your shirt and start marking you up. You mewl, feeling him suck, lick, and kiss your neck.

One particular suck on the juncture of your neck made you moan out loud. He smiles against your skin, taking extra time on that area. You cry out, pulling on his hair to get his attention. “Changbin…” you say breathlessly. He looks up and nearly loses it on the spot. You laying underneath him, neck covered with sexy red marks that he created. You already look so dazed out that Changbin wonders how much more beautiful you will look when he actually fucks you.

He moves up to your face, stroking your hair. “What’s wrong, doll?” he questions you softly. You whimper as you roll your hips up to meet his. Changbin hisses at the feeling.

“Inside,” you whine, “Want you inside me, please.”

“Do you now?” Now his tone was condescending. You pout, nodding your head. “Cute. What makes you thing that I’d just give it to you after how much of a brat you were earlier?” You rub your thighs together, pouting.

Tears starts forming in your eyes. “Please? I’m sorry for being a brat. I’ll make it up to you, I promise!”

Changbin chuckles darkly. “Oh, you will, doll,” he says, rubbing both your thighs. He glances up at you to read your expressions, only continuing when you gave him a confirming nod. He sits up and takes off your pants. He chuckles, licking his lips when he realizes that your bra and panties were a matching set. “How adorable.” he sings, making you flustered.

Changbin kisses your stomach before slipping his hand down your panties. You clench your thighs, trapping his hand, as he plays with your clit. He rubs slow circles on your clit, stroking your slit before sliding one finger inside you. You grab a fistful of his bed sheets, moaning. He lazily moves his finger in you, adding another one to fill you up a little more. You were already breathless. Your sweet moans filling up the entire room. Changbin starts to move his fingers faster, bending them, making you arch your back and whine louder.

You could already feel your high getting closer. You start squirming around in response. “Close, baby?” he asks, rhetorically. You nod your head frantically.

“Y-yes, fuck. Oh shi- yes.”

Changbin pumps his fingers faster for you, feeling yourself clenching tighter and tighter before you finally cum around them. He lets you ride out your high before slipping out of you. He brings his fingers to your lips, prying them open. “Open up, doll.” You let his fingers inside your mouth, swirling your tongue around his digits, tasting yourself, making the two of you groan. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, sliding down so his face meets your wet core.

You look down at him, questioningly. You were about to ask him what he was doing until he licks up your slit. Your eyes widened as you threw your head back, letting out a moan loud enough that it borderline sounded like a scream. His tongue explores your pussy, occasionally sucking on your clit as you pant.

“N-no,” you stammer, “that’s not-n-no. I-I’m still sensi-ah!” You grip his hair, not sure if you’re trying to push him away or pull him closer. Changbin chuckles at this, the vibrations from it shooting up your core. Your sensitivity from your first orgasm brought you closer to your next release. You start bucking your hips, thighs closing in on his head as your core tightens. He grabs your thighs, prying them open. One last harsh suck on you clit made you cum again, this time on his tongue. Changbin licks up your slit, gathering up every single drop of your juices.

He sits up and smiles at you, his chin covered with your excess wetness. He rubs your thighs to calm you down. “You good, Y/n?” he worryingly asks, “Think you can handle one more?” You lazily nod your head, a little overwhelmed with the over sensitivity. Changbin wipes his mouth before crawling back to your face. He kisses you leisurely, taking his time with your lips to give you more time to calm down.

You hold onto his muscular biceps as he cups your face. You were still panting harshly even before he started making out with you. He peppers your face with gentle pecks, encouraging you to continue. “How ‘bout now? Can you handle one more orgasm, babe?”

This time, you could actually reply to him. “Y-yeah. ‘Think I can.” you said, quietly. Changbin smiles and gives you one more peck on your lips. He leans up and takes off his clothes. Even after two orgasms, you still felt needy for Changbin. Your eyes rake down his form, eyeing each one of his bulging muscles. Damn, no wonder why he’s always bragging about going to the gym everyday, cause he has every right to do so.

Now, if you thought his body was impressive, then his cock was another story. Your eyes widens, breath hitching when you see it. Holy shit, now I know why he’s so short, you thought. He has a monster cock that totally makes up for it. “Holy fuck-“ Changbin looks at you with a smirk.

“What’s wrong, doll? Bigger than you expected?” You nod dumbly, mouth ajar. Changbin could feel his ego skyrocketing. He pumps himself, throwing his head back in pleasure, finally feeling some kind of pleasure before lining himself to your hole. He adjusts his position, spreading your legs wider as well. “I’ll go as slowly as I can,” he mutters. You mumble a quiet ‘thank you’ as he starts pushing in.

Your mouth opens in a silent scream, eyes clenching as you try to take him in fully. Changbin moans rather loudly, your tightness a little too much for him. “W-wait. Fuck…” you call out with slight hiss. He stops his penetration, waiting for you to adjust. Your grip on his shoulders tightens, silently giving him the ok to move. He continues his advancement slowly until he bottoms out inside you. The both of you moan, giving each other time to relax.

Changbin leans down to kiss your cheek, whispering encouraging words to you. You stay in your positions for almost a minute before pleading for Changbin to move. At first, his thrusts were slow, testing out how well you could take him in for now. You moan softly, the way his hips move softly is already shooting bursts of pleasure throughout your body. Gradually, he picks up his pace, his once slow, loving thrusts are now hungry, desperate ones.

His hands were now on the back of your thighs, folding you in half. The new position allows him to reach deeper inside you. “B-bin,” you whine, clawing at his back, “hmm…fuck. M-more. Fuck me harder.”

“Harder? You really think your pretty little pussy can handle my cock, doll?”

“Yes! P-please g-give me more. I can handle i-it!”

Changbin laughs at your desperation, picking up his pace. You moan louder, moving your hips to meet his thrusts. Changbin’s soft moans and growls and your own whiny moans filled his bedroom. Neither of you knew who would break first, both of your releases nearing. The tip of his cock starts hitting right on your sweet spot, making you scream. He throws his head back with a loud, raspy moan when he feels you tightening around him.

“I’m s-so fucking close, Bin,” you cry, “Don’t s-stop!”

“My, what a desperate slut you are.”

He bites his lip, hips moving harder and deeper, as he leans closer to kiss you. Remembering the scene from the library, Changbin’s right hand snakes around your neck, firmly but gently choking you.You let yourself enjoy the feeling of him blocking your airways, closing your eyes in pleasure. You whine loudly when he slips his tongue in your mouth. You let him explore your wet cavern, loving the feeling. Your eyes shot open when you felt his thumb playing with your clit.

“Sh-shit! Changbin!” You moan, arching your back. You could feel the beginnings of your release.

“C’mon,beautiful,” Changbin whispers, “Cum for me.” His words seem to have triggered your orgasm. Your body went stiff, cumming around his cock, mumbling a bunch of expletives. You start trembling, the feeling of your orgasm was too intense. Changbin hisses, pulling himself out of you when he felt his own release nearing.

He pulls you up, pushing your head close to his throbbing dick. Getting the memo, you lean down and take him into your mouth. You bob your head up and down as you pump the rest of his cock. Changbin moans, his rough hand in your hair. He starts rocking his hips, pushing himself deeper into your mouth. One harsh tug on your scalp made you moan, the vibrations sends waves of pleasure down his cock making him throw his head back yet again.

“What a dirty little girl,” he pants heavily. “Love my cock that much, huh, doll?” Tears pool your eyes as you try humming in agreement. The second round of vibrations sent Changbin over the edge. Hot spurts of cum shoots down your throat. He holds your head in place until he finishes cumming. “That’s it, beautiful. Swallow it all. Don’t let anything go to waste.”

He lets go of your head and gently pushes you down his bed. He cups your cheek, rubbing it tenderly with his thumb. Changbin reaches behind you to unclasp your bra, throwing it down onto his floor and rubbing at your breast to soothe you, only letting go of them when you let out an uncomfortable whine. He moves up to your face and kisses you softly.

“Are you okay, Y/n?” he questions you. You nod, too fucked out to respond verbally. Changbin giggles, moving to lay beside you and petting your hair as you calm yourself. You turn your body to hug his, slightly catching him off guard. He immediately relaxes, however, and continues stroking your hair. The two of you lay comfortably until Changbin broke the silence.

“Did you mean it?” he asks, quietly. You note the tone of uncertainty in his words. Your eyes meet his in question.

“Mean what?” you slur, still having a bit of trouble talking.

“Did you mean what you said in the library? Do you really hate me? Was this just a…one time thing?”

You look at him sadly, his expression matching yours. He didn’t want this to be just a one night stand. He genuinely wants to be friends with you. Scratch that, he wants to be even more than that. You nibble on your lips, shaking your head.

“No…I don’t actually hate you…Yeah, you piss me off a lot but…I can’t actually hate you,” you say, moving your hands to cup his face. You could feel Changbin leaning into your touch. “Honestly, I don’t even remember when I started liking you. I guess I only just realized it now when you pushed me onto your bed.”

Changbin moves away from you in shock. “You…like me?” You timidly nod your head, a little embarrassed now. He lets out the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on him and kisses you. This time, this kiss was soft, filled with so much love and unsaid feelings. You giggle into the kiss, holding his face. Changbin pulls away from you and rests his forehead against yours, his eyes twinkling in joy. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that.”

You smile, moving to peck his lips. “I’m sorry,” you tell him, “For everything I said. It was uncalled for and kinda mean. Scratch that, I really was a fucking bitch to you. You didn’t deserve that.”

Changbin hums, rubbing your back. “It’s okay. I’m sorry too. I get why you said all that. I mean, this whole rivalry started ‘cause of me, so this was kinda my fault to begin with.”

“No, it’s not. We both brought this upon ourselves, Bin, so we’re both at fault.”

“I guess…Let’s just start over?”

You contemplate. “I think,” you start cautiously, “It’s better if we don’t.”

“Huh?” Changbin was confused. “What do you mean no?”

“I mean, I don’t really want to forget about our past and pretend our years of bickering never happened. We already fell for each other’s bad qualities, so why should we, you know? There’s nothing for us to hide at this point.”

Changbin had a look of realization on his face, drawing out a long ‘ah’. “I like that,” he laughs. “You’re right. Let’s do that!” He pulls you closer to his broad chest, kissing the top of your head. He hugs your form tighter, as if he was afraid that this was a dream. “Oh yeah, what’re we gonna tell Chan and Jisung when we show up together all lovey-dovey?” he wonders out loud.

“No need to tell us anything!” a voice sounding a lot like Jisung’s calls out from the other side of Changbin’s door. “We’ve been home for 15 minutes now. We heard almost everything! Chill out goddamnit!” You both could hear Chan in the distance, yelling at Jisung for saying that while he goes on about how you two “actually did it, they finally got laid!”.

“Oh my god…” you groan in mortification while Changbin drowns with laughter. You hide your face on Changbin’s chest, feeling it shake from his laughs. “Looks like we got that down!” he jokes. You slap his chest with a whine.

Yup. Today now marks the end of the Seo-L/n war, and damn were you glad it did.

~End~

A/n: hi. if you didn’t know, this is actually a repost yay :) cause after all this time, this fic still hasn’t shown up in the tags cause t*mblr is a little bi-

#stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fanfic #skz smut #skz imagines #skz scenarios #seo changbin smut #seo changbin imagines #shame cause i was actually proud of this fic 🥲

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