#says a lot more about them than it does you

[sabertoothwalrus]

I'm going to think out loud about the dungeon meshi ages for a sec

I'm going to preface this by saying that this is based on my existing knowledge, and fact checking is difficult because there is A LOT of contentious research out there.

First of all, I think a lot of people come at this from a modern lens, forgetting the context that this is fantasy medieval era. this is fiction. on top of that, this is specifically Ryoko Kui's understanding of medieval era aging. plus fantasy. So before anyone comes at me with a bunch of 'ermmmm actualy's just consider that I don't really care and also it might not matter in this context lol

as far as the "age of maturity" assigned for each race, something I don't see many people talk about is that "teenagers" are a fairly recent concept. For a long time, you were either considered A Kid or Not A Kid. but this doesn't necessarily mean kids were more/less developed then, just our cultural expectations for certain age groups have changed.

Laios says the age of maturity for tallmen is 16. I don't think that means 16 year olds in the dungeon meshi universe are necessarily "more mature" than modern 16 year olds, but moreso that they have more responsibilities. However, things like medicine, smoking, drinking, sun exposure, physical activity, etc all affect age, so it's possible that developmentally they're closer to modern 18 year olds? Izutsumi is 17 (less than two weeks from turning 18, actually), and very much acts like a modern 17 year old.

The age of maturity for half-foots is 14. Chilchuck was 13 when he got married and had his first two children. Even though, at age 29, he's the equivalent of a modern 50 year old, I don't think he was That much more developed at 13 than a tallman. I think if half-foot 14 is equal to tallman 16, then Chilchuck was Pretty Damn Young for a parent LMAO. Even if you're generous and say tallman 16 is a modern 18, he still would've been younger than that.

The long-lived races are interesting. Marcille is obviously a unique case, and not a lot of this applies to her. We do know what Senshi was like as a minor (miner, lol), and he seemed like a modern 15ish, considering he was 36 and dwarf maturity is 40. I think it'd be really interesting to delve into how a culture functions with people being developmentally adolescent for soooooo long. Imagine middle school lasting 20 years. that would fucking suck. I suppose it makes sense why long-lived races are so patronizing.

Moving onto lifespans, I want to emphasize that they're average lifespans. Even in the manga, they say some half-foots live to 100, it's just rare. So it's less that a tallman 60 year old is "older" than a modern 60 year old, it's that it's easier to keep people alive for longer nowadays. Modern medicine is a BIG contributor. Dental health as well, considering how much your health is affected by your diet (and how much the action of chewing alone aids in digestion). Curious to know what the FUCK elven dentistry is like.

It also makes me wonder if half-foots would have a longer average lifespan if they weren't like, used for bait and treated so poorly, but half-foot 29 does seem to be middle-aged for half-foots. so who knows!

In that vein, I don't know if I can see Mithrun quite making it to 400 😬 like, his experience as a dungeon lord took a lot out of him quite literally, and he's doing exceptionally well despite it! I imagine he'd eventually start to develop a lot of heart problems if he doesn't have them already. Perhaps early-onset dementia. His memory seems still quite intact (he corrects Kabru on his story's accuracy) and he doesn't act like, lobotomized. He doesn't seem forgetful or confused, and he has a sense of humor/sarcasm still. It's mostly his task initiation that's been affected.

I almost want to say that mana affinity could affect long-lived races' lifespans, except dwarves have very poor tolerance for mana, so it's probably not that.

okay anyway I didn't really have a point to this post so I'm just gonna end my rambling here

#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi spoilers

[margotw10bis]

Better Than Him.JJK [m]

roommate!Jungkook x reader

Genre: fake-dating; romance; smut; one-shot

Words: 19.6k (oops)

Synopsis: When your boyfriend cheats on you and decides to bring his lover to the wedding you invited him to, you take vengeance by pretending you have a new boyfriend: your hot roommate.

Warnings: broken heart; cheating; alcohol consumption; huge sexual tension between those 2 idiots; voyeurism?; masturbating; fingering; bigdick!jk; protected sex

You should have known. The signs were there but you chose to look the other way. Now, you have to face the consequences of your willful blindness.

Because now, there is no "look the other way" option when your boyfriend is standing in front of you and is breaking up with you.

"I'm sorry, what?"

He has already explained the reason but while your ears can identify the sounds coming from his mouth, your brain, on the other hand, has absolutely no idea how to make sense of the words forming the sentences.

Even if Taehyung has a huge craving of rolling his eyes, he doesn't and repeats himself again — he can't really act angered when he is ending a one-year relationship.

"I want to break up with you because I met someone"

The explanation is clear, straightforward, but so raw. Just like Taehyung didn't care about hurting you or that he never actually cared about you.

"Do I know her?"

You don't know why you want to torture yourself even more because you don't want to picture him with someone else. You don't want to picture the woman in his arms, on his lips, underneath him. But you have to be a little masochist because you still ask.

"Does it matter?" Taehyung sighs

It doesn't but maybe you have a faint hope that you're better than her. That he is so wrong about choosing someone over you.

"I deserve to know, don't you think?" Your tone is more hurt than aggressive

"Siyeon" He says after a long pause

Your heart drops instantly.

Siyeon.

The woman Taehyung has been teamed up with for a few months. The woman he told you not to worry about. The woman you saw in his apartment one month ago but pretended it was a "professional meeting".

You were so dumb to believe it because who the hell have professional meetings at their home at nine pm with a good bottle of wine and candles?! You were so hurt that you denied the truth. Maybe you thought that catching them together would make Taehyung realize that what he was doing was wrong.

You didn't think that he would actually realize that you were the wrong one for him.

Ever since you saw her, you have been insecure because she is gorgeous. More than that, she is confident — something you know you lack and something you know Taehyung absolutely loves.

You feel humiliated. You'll have to explain to your friends why Taehyung is not in the picture anymore and it hurts. Everyone will know what happened. That you weren't enough for him. That he chose another woman over you.

"Now that you know it's Siyeon, you should also know that I'll go to Namjoon's wedding with her" He adds

What?!

That is mean. So fucking mean. Namjoon invited you at his wedding and Taehyung was your +1. And now he is going to the wedding you invited him with another woman, the woman he cheated on you with?!

You can't take it anymore. You want to strangle him and yell at him. You want to find the most painful words ever just for him to feel a third of your pain. But nothing comes to your mind and you only can stay pathetically quiet as the man you thought was the love of your life walks away with your broken heart.

. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀ ♡

Usually, when you come home, you feel soothed. It is mainly explained by the fact that you rarely come home to an empty apartment.

After graduating from college, you were like a lot of your fellows: optimistic about the future but broke. Finding a job took more time than you expected and it was impossible for you to pay a whole rent by yourself if you didn't want to live in a very tiny studio — Seoul has a lot of great qualities but cheap real estate is not one of them. Sharing an apartment became your only option and you spent a few weeks looking for the perfect roommate. Until you found Jeon Jungkook.

To be honest, you didn't want to share an apartment with a man — for all kind of reasons, the main one being that you didn't feel comfortable showing your intimacy to a male stranger. However, as you saw Jungkook's notice, you fell in love with the place. It was luminous, nicely decorated, in a great neighborhood and the two bedrooms were very spacious. With a little apprehension, you met Jungkook so he could show you around your maybe-future-place. And it was even greater than on the ad.

Moreover, Jungkook was sweet and smiling. Very welcoming and you immediately felt comfortable with him. You didn't think twice before signing the lease. You even stayed after saving enough money to have a place on your own.

It's reassuring to live with someone like Jungkook. First of all, he cooks so well. Then, you can always ask him to help you change a lightbulb or refill your car oil. And, most important, he always comforts you when you feel down. He does so much for you that you sometimes wonder what you bring to him...

Yet, you are praying every gods for him to be absent as you're opening the front door. Naturally, it's not your lucky day so he watches you stepping inside with traces of mascara on your cheeks. For once, you wished he was with one of his hookups — it's not something he does much but he is enough of a gentlemen to have sex at the girl's place not to bother you. You have to admit that you didn't take as many precautions as him and you have no doubt he has heard you having sex with your (ex)boyfriend...

"What's going on? Are you okay?" He runs toward you with a panicked face

You blink the new tears away and mumble something like "don't wanna talk about it" before escaping to your shared bathroom. As you look in the mirror, you understand why Jungkook was so worried as he saw you: you look absolutely terrible. Yeah, your makeup is ruined but it's mainly your devastating expression that is obvious.

It's exactly the kind of things you want to avoid when you have to go to a wedding in five days...

The wedding.

Should you go? You're definitely not in the mood. Plus you don't have a date anymore. Plus your former date is going with someone else. Plus that someone else is the woman he cheated on you with. Isn't it the definition of a shitty life?

All of your friends will look at you with pity and you don't want that. You would very much prefer to stay at home and cry over your broken heart with a good vanilla ice cream.

On the other hand, you like Namjoon a lot. He is so great, one of your closest friends. And Tzuyu has become your friend too, she is the sweetest person ever. This day is so important for them and you can't be selfish enough not to go and be by their side. When you spot things this way, being the laughing stock of the party is not dramatic.

And you still have a few days to think about it. You know that your emotions are all over the place so you just have to take a good and hot shower, try to apply some ointment on your poor heart and convince yourself that going to this wedding is a good idea and your only option.

. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀ ♡

Your heart and your brain are not friends anymore.

The whole night you've been through pros and cons of going to the wedding. Your brain strongly defended the pros while your heart advocated the cons.

To be honest, your heart was really convincing, spotting that it's too soon to meet your ex again (and it could be the case for any kind of break-ups), that you're too hurt and fragile right now to face the cheater and his mistress and that you'll have to deal with the humiliation in front of all your friends. So yeah, listening to your heart, you shouldn't attend the wedding.

But your brain had good arguments too. First of all, Namjoon. He was there when, in your second year of college, you couldn't find any place to live. He generously offered his couch for all long as you needed, even though you weren't this close to him in the past because you didn't share any class — a normal thing considering you were a sophomore and he was a senior — and your only bound back then was the Newspaper of the University Club. Then, your brain reminded you that this wedding was more than just that: it was a whole trip with your friends. Namjoon, a well-known romantic, booked a hotel on a beach in a haven of greenery in the Philippines. For a whole weekend, you'll get to enjoy yourself on the beach with delicious cocktails made from fresh-cut fruits, and you'll be able to go the spa of the luxurious hotel. It's an appealing program to be true.

But the argument that convinced you was that Taehyung doesn't deserve to have such an impact on you. He doesn't deserve your tears or any kind of thought or attention. You should do what you want and you have nothing to feel ashamed about. He is the one sporting the shame with his actions.

That is why you're feeling a little lighter the next morning when you head to the kitchen in quest of a warm coffee. You're a little surprised to see Jungkook since he usually goes to the gym at this time "to avoid the crowd and focus on the right moves” — quoting. But he hasn't gone to the gym.

He is leaning against the countertop, his arms crossed on his chest — you try your best not to look at the way his biceps are brought out under his large grey t-shirt — and his black hair is messy. But what catches your attention is his tired face. It looks like he hasn't got any sleep last night and his big cup of coffee almost finished doesn't seem to help.

"Good morning" You greet but you wince at your hoarse voice due to your late crying

"Morning" Jungkook waits a few seconds, watching you fill your own mug with the brown liquid "Do you want to tell me what happened? I'm worried about you"

You sigh and your heart squeezes a little — not because of Taehyung this time but because the lack of sleep of Jungkook might have been caused by you.

"Tae cheated on me and then broke up with me"

A sarcastic chuckle escapes your mouth. When you present things like that, you feel ridiculous to even cry over him. You're pathetic and yet, how can you stop loving someone in just one night? You love Taehyung, you have been for a year.

"Y/N..." Jungkook tries to comfort you but he doesn't quite know what to say

You feel it and give him a faint smile when his big palm gently squeezes your shoulder.

"I'll be okay" You promise him and yourself "If I survive Namjoon's wedding, I'll be okay"

You notice the frown on Jungkook's face.

"What do you mean?" He asks

"He is going with..." You can't bring yourself to say her name, it's still too painful "Her"

You don't have to detail, it's clear enough.

Jungkook tenses and a big wave of anger builds inside him.

"The hell?!" He exclaims "He is such a asshole! He has been invited because of you! And now he is going with another woman?!"

It's exactly what you've spent the night telling to yourself and someway, it's soothing to have someone by your side. Jungkook has the angry side of your pain and it's comforting. You know he won't belittle your feelings or your pain.

"I swear, I can punch the guy, Y/N" He offers

He looks so serious but it's so out of character for him to choose violence. Despite the numerous hours of box training, Jungkook has never fought someone — that you know of at least. You can't help a laugh at his hero behavior. 'Gosh, he is so precious' You think to yourself.

"You won't punch him. And I won't punch him either. I will just go, enjoy this weekend with my friends and show him that I'm completely okay without him"

"You're sure?" He asks, a little worried

You nod and give him a side hug to enhance your answer.

"I'm here for you" He whispers in your hair before pecking the top of your head

. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀ ♡

Plans have changed.

You clack the front door with wrath as you enter your apartment, shaking the whole wall, and growl when you take off your shoes. You make them fly around you without too much care.

All this noise attracts Jungkook and his eyes widen when he sees you throwing your bag across the room, hitting a lamp that falls on the floor and breaks. Tears of burning anger roll down your cheeks and your heart is pounding so loud in your ears that you haven't heard your roommate approaching.

"Hey, Y/N, what happened?" He gently questions, trying to guess how to act

It's the first time he witnesses your anger. Usually, you sport your disappoint face — a frown and pouty lips. Just like this one time when Jungkook ate the cake you baked for one of your friends' baby shower. Or when he broke your very expensive moisturizer in the bathroom. But you never yelled or appeared angry at him. He is not even sure you've ever raised your voice at someone. You're the kind of person who chooses dialogue to ease conflicts and always tries to see the others' point of view.

But right now, you look like at tornado of furiousness and Jungkook is quite taken aback.

"I swear, I'm going to kill him!" You scream

You really want to punch something, anything. You are so fucking mad. You've never felt like this before and your shaking body due to adrenaline is very well noticeable by Jungkook. He is afraid you'll have a heart attack.

"Are you talking about Taehyung?" Your roommate asks with caution

"This little... shit!" You yell

Jungkook's mouth fall open. Okay, the situation is damn serious because you never ever curse, let alone insult someone. He doesn't even know how to calm you down and he is sure that you could punch him right now — not that he can't defend himself but he would rather much avoid the fury of your delicate fists at the moment.

"He said I cheated! Can you believe it?! I cheated!"

Now, Jungkook understands why you're so angry. He would be just the same in your shoe. God, he is mad right now.

"He said to Namjoon that he would attend the wedding with her for moral support! I can't even believe it!"

Your voice has slowly changed from wrath to hurt and your screams shifted into sobbing. You're a mess. And your heart has broken a second time after Namjoon's call. Sure, your friend didn't believe your ex and he was worried about you. But still, Taehyung said that and you're sure that he has been saying his little story lie to everyone.

"Let me punch him" Jungkook begs, ready to defend your honor

"I wish but it won't be enough" You cry "I want to make him pay. I want to make him feel like the looser he is. Gosh, I want him to think that I actually cheated"

Your brain is going to all kinds of directions, trying to find a way to take revenge. Until your watery eyes land on Jungkook.

Jungkook. Hot, handsome roommate. Great at everything. Completely at the opposite of Taehyung with his tattooed arm, lip ring and brawny body. He is the embodiment of sexiness. And you know that your ex has always been jealous of him. You clearly remember a conversation you've forgotten for a long time.

"You're sure nothing happened between you and your roommate?" Taehyung asked

“Who, Jungkook?” The idea seems so ridiculous to you that you can’t help but giggle “Yes, I'm sure. He is my friend and I don't think we'll ever see each other other than that" You answered, way too in love with your new boyfriend to even look at another man — even if the said man is a sexy roommate who isn't afraid to walk around shirtless

"I have to say that I don't quite like the idea of you living with him" Taehyung pouted

"Why?" You squeezed his cheeks to tease him

"He looks at you funny sometimes"

"You're imagining things, Taetae" You reassured him "We've been roommates for three years. If we wanted things to happen between us, it would have already happened"

"Come to the wedding with me"

Jungkook is looking at you like you are crazy. Well, you understand. You just came home furious, then bursted into cries and now you have a new, strong determination with fire in your glossy eyes.

“I—"

But you cut him off.

"Pretend you're my boyfriend"

"What?!" Jungkook exclaims, his doe eyes having doubled in size

"Taehyung has always been jealous of you. If you come with me and we say we're together, I'm sure he'll be mad. He'll think I've cheated for real" You explain

You know you sound crazy but you're too angry and too hurt to reason. You just want give Taehyung a taste of his own medicine. It's not fair to Jungkook because he has nothing to do with this whole messed up situation but he is the only one who can help you.

"Don't you think it'll create more drama?" Jungkook points out

He is not wrong but the risks are nothing compared to your willing of revenge.

"Maybe for him" You concede "But I'm sick of his behavior. He can't cheat, break my heart and act like I'm the villain. This is my friends' wedding and Taehyung is doing everything he can to ruin that for me. I just want to be with my friends and enjoy a nice weekend. For that, I need an ally, I need you. Please, Jungkook. We'll just have to hold hands, dance together and it'll be it. And there is a great gym at the hotel, I saw it on the website”

You’re looking at him with those puppy eyes that your roommate can’t resist. It’s an unfair fight, he knows it. He’ll never win against you and he would do pretty much everything you’d ask right now if it means it’ll heal your broken heart. 

Jungkook sighs. Fuck, you know him way too well for his sake. You didn't have to present the gym part, he would already say yes when you ask him to come with you the first time. To be honest, Jungkook has never really liked your ex. He found him too arrogant and a little bit mean with you sometimes. If Jungkook can be there to protect you and help you to get back at him, he is down for it. Spending time with his roommate in another scenery than your shared flat or the grocery store is just the icing on the cake.

. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀ ♡

Step 1 of "Getting back at Taehyung" plan — or "Making him realize that he is a complete asshole and you're too good for him" as Jungkook calls it— starts straight when you reach Incheon International Airport. Your closest friends are here — plus Taehyung and Siyeon — since you've planned to fly together in order to start the celebration weekend right after work. You were lucky enough to find a plane ticket for Jungkook last minute and you had to battle with him to pay — he conceded but promised to pay for the room in exchange.

Only Namjoon and his future wife, Tzuyu, were informed of your new 'date'. That explains the surprised look on your friends' faces and the pure hate on Taehyung's one. You gloat at his reaction, especially at his frown when he sees Jungkook taking care of your both luggages when Taehyung hasn't even thought about helping Siyeon.

"I'm so glad you made it" Hoseok welcomes you with a hug

"Of course, I couldn't miss Joon and Tzuyu’s wedding!"

You greet your friends, carefully avoiding Taehyung and his date, and decide to tease him a little when you introduce Jungkook — something that is absolutely not necessary because they have all seen him already during some hangings out at your place.

"I didn't know there was room for roommates on this trip" Taehyung mumbles

If the others chose to ignore him, Jungkook doesn't. A smirk paints his face and he scoots closer to you, circling your waist with his strong arm in a possessive manner.

"There isn't. But there's room for boyfriends, right love?"

Your cheeks immediately burn. You knew that you'll have to play a role but you didn't expect Jungkook to be this good at it. You're not good at pet names. Most of the times, you called Taehyung by his name or "Taetae" but the words "baby", "honey" or whatsoever have never crossed your lips. You always feel too shy to use them but you guess that the whole point of this is actually to give Jungkook everything you didn't give to Taehyung — honestly, it's not like he's ever deserved it while Jungkook might. Just to show him that he can't compete with your roommate.

"True, baby"

You pat yourself for not stuttering and Jungkook sees your efforts too so he gives you a kiss on your cheek. If he meant to soothe you, it does the exact opposite since you've never been comfortable at being physically affectionate in public.

This little warm up at pretending dating turns freezing when Taehyung turns around to kiss Siyeon on the lips. A bitter taste fills your mouth as you know that he has done it several times when you were still together. Does he like kissing her more than you? This kind of thoughts shouldn't affect you but it does...

"Come on, let's get through security" Jungkook whispers in your ear as he has witnessed the same gesture

You nod and keep your head low in order to hide your pained expression. You're happy Jungkook is with you because he takes care of everything. You just have to follow his instructions and concentrate on not crying in front of everyone.

Thankfully, Jungkook and you are seated a few rows before your ex so I don't have to watch their lovely interactions. And your roommate helps you forget the kiss by reminding you that the whole point of this plan is to show Taehyung that you don't care about him. Jungkook makes sure to choose one of the movies you like on the seat screen and shares his earphones with you.

You wrap your arm around his and rest your head on his shoulder, laughing at the most ridiculous scenes. You don't even acknowledge Taehyung passing by to reach the restrooms. However, the two men share a glance full of male tension. Jungkook watches with a proud smirk Taehyung's jaws clenching and decides to push a little further: he settles his hand on your thigh. As a man, he knows damn well that he would be pissed if the guy he always suspected his girlfriend to have a thing with does that. Jungkook can see in Taehyung's eyes that he suspects him to have touched you like that in the past — the past during which you were a couple and during which he cheated on you.

But this little game is not that important for Jungkook. He prefers giving his attention to you and watches you laugh with a way more tender smile. He hopes that you'll be as happy during the weekend. As least, he'll do his best for it.

. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀ ♡

This hotel is even better than on the photos. It's surrendered by the forest and the beach. There is even a beautiful waterfall nearby. All the walls are in wood and classic glass windows are replaced by big openings, giving the illusion of being in the nature. It's magical and romantic, which means that it's perfect for a wedding.

Your eyes shine in front of the beauty of your location.

"It's amazing" You say to Jungkook, tugging on his t-shirt sleeve for him to look at the view

You squeak in excitement when a money appears in front of you, flying from branch to branch. Jungkook points at a tree, a little further, and you notice the gorgeous white flowers on it. You're not good at botanic but you think it might be a magnolia tree. It's the biggest one you've even seen. You are so glad to share that with your roommate because you know that Jungkook loves it just as much as you do.

"Gosh, Y/N, thank you so much for inviting me" He thanks you

You shake your head.

"Thank you for coming. And I'm sorry you had to cancel some of your customers appointments"

"That's okay, I can reschedule" He reassures you — you guess that it's one of the advantages of having his own tattoo shop — and guides you to the reception

Everyone takes their key and you don't miss Taehyung's upset eye when he notices that you and Jungkook only have one key, which means one room.

And the said room is just as perfect as the rest of the hotel. Wood is everywhere and the rest of the fabrics — bedsheets, curtains, towels — are white. If you had to picture heaven, it'd be it. It's perfect.

The bedroom is spacious, giving enough place for a king size bed, a wardrobe, a large TV and two comfortable white sofas. You explore a little more your room for the weekend until you reach the bathroom. Same wood everywhere with a large walking shower. Perfect. It's so beautiful you could cry.

"I don't want to leave. Can't we just move here?" You ask Jungkook, making him chuckle

"Don't tempt me, I might say yes"

You realize that for the first time since your break up you don't feel in absolute pain. You actually feel good. You don't want to be anywhere else right now. And deep down, you know that Jungkook is partly responsible for that. 

After a quick drop at your rooms to change into swimsuits, Namjoon has proposed to walk around to enjoy the beautiful nature surrounding the hotel. Of course, you asked Jungkook if it was okay for him or if he preferred going to the gym. You don't want to impose him any activity because he has been kind enough to accept this whole fake-dating thing. However, he stated that he wanted to see your surroundings and he doesn't regret one bit.

It's beautiful. Tall trees frame the narrow path to the waterfall. The sound of the water, the birds and the faint breeze in the leaves are magical. The little lake created by the waterfall seems to come from a fairy tail.

Jungkook stays close to you, playing his boyfriend role perfectly. He urges you to be careful and holds your hand. You clearly feel Taehyung's eyes burning your back but you do your best to ignore it, especially when Siyeon wears the smallest and more translucent dress ever. You wonder if Taehyung actually likes this style because it's surely not yours — the proof being that you've opted for denim shorts and an oversized t-shirt.

When you are right next to the lake, you throw an eye at your 'boyfriend' but you gulp when you spot the playfulness in his doe eyes. You immediately understand what's going on in his childish brain and you point a warning finger at him.

"I swear to god, Jungkook, if you do that..."

"Do what, baby?" He replies, with a faked innocence

That's vicious because the pet name takes you aback and you don't have time to react. Jungkook slyly wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you up, making your squeak. He is walking dangerously straight to the water so you secure your legs around his torso, just prevent him from acting upon his idea.

"Don't you dare!" You threaten him

"You said you wanted to go for a swim" He teases, pretending to drop you but immediately holds you tighter

"Jungkook!" You scream, burring your face in the crook of his neck

His airy laugh is contagious. You're happy he's happy. You were afraid this weekend would be an absolutely chore for him but he actually seems to enjoy it.

"Look at me" He says softly

You look at his shiny doe eyes. They've never been so pretty. To be honest, everything in Jungkook is pretty. And his wide grin is to die for. He has the most beautiful smile in the whole world.

His inked hand goes up to your face and you're surprised by the tenderness of his thumb brushing your cheek. Honestly, if you didn't know that you're fake-dating, you would be completely in love. But maybe your weak heart shouldn't react as much... It certainly a side-effect of having your heart broken by your cheating boyfriend and not at all because Jungkook is kind and handsome and sexy and everything that describes 'perfect'.

"I won't let you down" He swears and seals his promise with a kiss on your forehead before putting you down carefully

However, your little bubble explodes with your ex's annoyed and annoying voice. And you understand that Jungkook just put on a show because Taehyung was there. You put far, far, far away the feeling of disappointment.

"Can we go to the beach now? Everyone is waiting for you" Taehyung growls

You shrug your shoulders while you pass by him and Siyeon, not forgetting to grab your roommate's hand.

. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀ ♡

Would you dare to say that the beach is even prettier than the tropical forest? Yes. The white and soft sand underneath your feet is warm and comforting. And the sea is painted in a turquoise color. It's official: you want to move here.

You don't resist anymore and you are quick to take off your shorts and t-shirt to jump in the water. Soon enough, your friends join you but you see no sign of Jungkook. Your eyes scan the shore and you almost choke.

Jungkook has taken his Hawaiian shirt off and his perfect chest is on full display. Gosh, he is hot. You take advantage of being away enough to ogle him. Your eyes lick his defined abs and pecs, then his strong biceps, especially the one covered by ink, and finish with his large thighs. You internally curse at his orange swimsuit.

"You've found yourself a great specimen" Tzuyu teases you, wiggling her eyebrows

You laugh it off but your red cheeks speak for themselves. You can't deny that you are flushed by the view of your 'boyfriend'.

You're not the only one to blush at this fine man: you can see some other female tourists whispering, certainly wondering if they should go talk to him. But they don't have time to make a decision since Jungkook walks to the water and skillfully swims to you. You didn't know that swimming could be sexy...

You quickly put your head underwater in order to get rid off your blushed cheeks but you're not sure it works. When you emerge, Jungkook is standing right in front of you with his handsome bunny smile.

"Come here" He urges you softly

Even though the water is too deep for you to plant your feet on the ground, it's not the case for Jungkook who can easily grab your waist and hug you. Automatically, you wrap your legs around his torso and your arms around his neck. You still have in mind your fake-dating plan and cuddling the warm ocean sets the perfect scenery to play your roles.

You push his black wet hair back and use your 'girlfriend card' to admire his handsome face. Jungkook seems to glow with the drops glistening in the sun.

You swear, your roommate has decided to kill you because he attacks you with cuteness when he softly brushes his bubble nose against yours, making you both giggle.

"They're too cute together" Tzuyu beams, hugging her future husband

You've known Namjoon longer than her but she has become a true friend. She is always nice with you and supports you the same way your friend does. You're so happy for them to have found each other because they're perfect together — even though you're a bit jealous of their love right now.

You want to thank her but as you open your mouth, you're interrupted by none other than Taehyung, in his grumpy mood.

"Who wants to play volleyball?" Your ex asks, a little louder than necessary just to bother you

You roll your eyes, scoot a little away but still stay in Jungkook's strong arms. You know that if Taehyung has proposed volleyball is not mundane but it's because he is quite good at it. He used to play in high school and it might be the only sport he can beat Jungkook. But he surely bets on your roommate's competitiveness to lure him into his trap.

However, Jungkook refuses — which surprises both you and your ex. 

"Nah, thanks. I just want to enjoy some time with my girl"

Namjoon, Hoseok and his girlfriend, and Taehyung join the beach to prep the game. The rest of your group floats around in the water or intend to swim to the yellow buoy.

"You're sure you don't want to play?" You ask

"Yeah, I'm sure" He reassures you and then bends over to whisper in yours ear "Taehyung is so mad right now, he keeps throwing stares at us. Is it okay if I kiss your neck?"

Your heart skips a bit and you nod, bitting your lower lip. It's suddenly very hot and it has nothing to do with the bright sun above you. You can feel your heart pounding with anticipation and you wonder if Jungkook can see the pulsations on your throat.

Jungkook's lips are soft, sending shivers down your spine when they slightly brush against your skin. The coldness of his lip ring contrasts with his hot breathe. You don't know what's got into you but you press him tighter against you and arch your back. Jungkook lands a first kiss to taste waters, then a second one, then a third one — more heated this time. You just wish he never stops and you don't know why you're feeling like that: it's not the first time someone touches you, even if it feels like it.

You close your eyes as you're trying your best not to moan but it's very hard to do when your fake boyfriend starts sucking on your skin. You have no doubt he can feel your pulse with his lips. His teeth gently bite the new mark before his tongue licks it to soothe the pain. You're very thankful that the ocean covers your hard nipples and that your wetness is indiscernible because one thing is sure: you’re aroused. 

Jungkook takes the time to admire his work. It might be one of the prettiest hickeys he's ever made and he has to admit that the purple mark suits you so well.

"Perfect" He states, more to himself than to you, and he licks his lips

When you open your eyes again, they land on Siyeon. She has clearly watched your interaction and you suddenly feel embarrassed. Sure, it was meant to be a show but weirdly, you would have wished this intimate moment to stay well, intimate.

An unpleasant shiver runs through your body at her death stare. You should be the one to hate her — she stole your man for god's sake! — and you don't understand why she acts so cold towards you. Not that you're willing to befriend with her but still...

"You're cold?" Jungkook asks

You use it as an excuse to run away  — or swim away — from Siyeon and her piercing eyes. You have the distasteful instinct that she has read right through Jungkook's and your lie.

You expected Jungkook to put you down but he actually walks to the shore with you in his arms, holding you tighter as the water levels down on your body. You hug him like a koala and Jungkook smiles softly at the image.

It's only when you are by your stuff that your fake boyfriend let you feel the ground underneath your feet. He hands you your towel and helps you dry yourself. The gestures are sweet and you wonder if Jungkook is like that when he is in a real relationship or if he just plays his role.

He scrubs his wet hair with his own towel at a rapid pace, shaking his muscles right in front of you. You gulp and look the other way. Just like he wasn't an absolute tease, Jungkook lays on his towel to enjoy the sun. However, you notice his blushed cheeks and you know that a sunburn is close.

"You should apply sun protection" You advise

You thought that he would battle with you — it was usual with Taehyung as your ex-boyfriend often complained that you were babying him — but he doesn't and wastes no time to apply sun screen on his arms, legs, chest and face. You can't only chuckle when he turns white because of the dramatic amount he has put on.

"Can you help me with the back, please?"

"Of course, turn around"

Facing his large back is easier because Jungkook can't see how much you're blushing. You make sure to cover every inch of his skin, massaging his back lightly and insisting on his tattoos. You deny it but you take a little more time than needed just to enjoy his body under your fingertips.

When he turns around, Jungkook gives you his bunny smile with a scrunched nose and you know that many women have fallen under his charm. It's not that difficult to be honest.

"How about a game?" He asks with cheerfulness, holding his phone in his tattooed hand

You nod frenetically, so glad that Jungkook thinks about your habits as roommates. You feel like you both need it not to get too lost into your acting. You and him are used to spend evenings playing this stupid game on your phones, fighting for the win. You have to admit that Jungkook is really good at it but you know all of his technics now, resulting in stealing some victories from him.

You are both laying on your stomaches, typing like maniac on your screens, gasping from time to time when the other kill one of your players. When you are taking the lead, Jungkook bumps your shoulder in order to distract you but you push him back and go further by typing haphazardly on his phone.

"Yah!" He yells, making you giggle

"Yes!" You exclaim as the victory is yours

"It wasn't fair!" Jungkook pouts and you poke your tongue out to taunt his sore loser side

However, Jungkook takes revenge by tickling you with no pity. You squeak and wiggle as much as you can to escape his devilish fingers but Jungkook's grip is strong. You're laughing so much that your tummy hurts and tears roll down your cheeks.

You don't really know how it happened but Jungkook is now above you. The intimate position stops the childish moment and the atmosphere swifts to something way hotter.

You might be imagining things but it looks like your roommate is staring at your lips. It even seems like he is getting closer. Is he going to kiss you? Oh gosh!

'Oh gosh!' because you want him to!

Your heart pounds and you try to calm down all the alarms in your brain screaming 'your sexy roommate is about to kiss you!' but the kiss never happens.

Because as Jungkook's appealing mouth is only a few inches away from yours, the volley ball hits his head with a comic 'boing' sound.

Furious, Jungkook's head snaps at the players and it's no surprise that Taehyung was the one who threw the ball.

"My bad!" He fakes to apologize

"The hell, man?!" Jungkook barks

You feel the tension between the two men, especially when Jungkook stands up, ready to throw punches. You grab his arm as you're trying to calm him down.

"Kook, it's okay" You say softly

"He could have hurt you!" He replies

"Don't worry, I aim good" Your ex mocks him, indirectly confessing that he did it on purpose — not that you had a doubt

Your roommate's fists clench and you're afraid all this thing doesn't end good. You sneak your hand in his, caressing the back of his hand to soothe him. It seems to work as Jungkook has stopped throwing death stares at Taehyung and is now looking at you.

"It's late anyway" You say "We should head to our room to get ready for dinner"

"Yeah, you're right" Jungkook concedes, eyes Taehyung a last time and an idea lightens up his face "I can't wait to test this amazing shower with you, baby"

Poking his inner cheek with his tongue, Jungkook is clearly provoking Taehyung but it's so fucking sexy. Actually, you wouldn't mind testing that shower with him...

. ༶⋆˙⊹❀♡

"Oh my god!" You exclaim "You look really good!"

Your compliment paints a smile on your roommate's face but you have to say that he deserves it. As there is a casual diner for tonight — fancy events are reserved for the wedding tomorrow —Jungkook hasn't put a lot of efforts but he is great even, he always is. It's pretty rare you see him without his baggy clothes and yet, his skinny jeans and black shirt are perfect on him. It's like you get to finally see his musculature underneath the fabric.

Walking around at this man's arm is a boost for self-confidence, even though you had to try harder to look one third of his good-looking.

"You're great, too" He tells you, referring to your white calf-long shirt dress "Look, for tonight, I think we should get more... physical. It seems to really drive mad Taehyung"

"That's because I'm not very affectionate in public, it makes me embarrassed" You explain

"We don't have to" Jungkook reassures you "I don't want to make you uncomfortable"

"No, it's okay. I mean, isn't it the whole point of faking?"

"You're sure?" Jungkook asks with concern in his eyes

"Yeah, I'm sure" You nod, giving him a small smile

With a final nod from Jungkook, you both walk to the open restaurant. As you are getting closer, your fake boyfriend gets into his character, scooting closer to you and wrapping an arm around your waist. It's true that you are not used to public display of affection but, with Jungkook's warm body pressed against yours, it's not that bad. Maybe because you're playing a role too.

Unfortunately, you're the first ones to arrive... except from Taehyung and Siyeon already sat at your big table. The air isn't really friendly and you do your best to concentrate on the sophisticated table setting. There are huge magnolia flowers decorating the center and your fingers tickle to put them in your suitcase.

"What do you want to drink, love?"

Jungkook's question drifts away your attention. You're surprised not to have only reacted to his voice but also to the pet name and you know for a fact that it's dangerous for your heart.

As he has suggested earlier, he tugs a lock of hair behind your ear, taking the opportunity to caress your cheek. Instant blush and a dry throat take control of your body.

"I think I'll stick to wine tonight since we'll drink a lot tomorrow"

Jungkook nods, an impressed look on his face at your self-control. Now that he thinks about it, he has never seen you drunk. The few times you both drunk alcohol, he clearly remembers that you had only one or two glasses. 'You are such the perfect girl for my parents', He thinks but it doesn't sound as ironical as he first imagined.

"What do you want?" You ask him, but also the two other persons around the table out of pure courtesy "I'm gonna order to the bar"

You just want to run away from your ex and the woman he cheated on you with, especially when they start kissing — in a very inappropriate way in public in your opinion.

"Two shots of vodka" Taehyung replies and you know that he does it on purpose

It wasn't rare that your ex wanted to have shots games, especially with vodka. However, you don't like shots games nor vodka. One day, mad and drunk, Taehyung called you 'no fun' and spent the rest of the night with his friends and left you alone in that bar.

You try not to look affected and turn toward your supposed boyfriend.

"Like you said, we'll drink a lot tomorrow so just sparkling water for me. Thanks, baby"

Jungkook's smile puts some ointment to your wounded heart. Right as you stand up, he grabs your hand and pulls on it so your face is at the same level as his. You are both looking into each other's eyes and gosh, you love how shiny his black irises are.

For a second, you think that Jungkook is going to kiss you but at the very last second, his lips aim for your cheek, giving you a sweet peck. You don't know if your heart has stopped or beaten faster... Either way, you just need to hide your redden face.

You escape, exhaling a breath you didn't know you hold. You're a little worried about leaving your roommate alone with the evil couple but you also need time to get your head straight.

"So, how long have you been with Y/N?" Taehyung starts — this question has been on his mind ever since he saw two arriving together at the airport

"Not long" Jungkook answers with a deliberate vagueness, his tone nonchalant

Your ex scoffs, his anger rising slowly in his body. He can't believe that you cheated on him with your roommate! You told him so many times that nothing ever happened and would ever happen between you two and now, you're officially together. That can only mean one thing: you were together before Taehyung broke up with you.

"It's a big change for you, right?"

"What do you mean?" Your fake boyfriend asks with a frown, he really doesn't like your ex's tone

"Well, from what I've seen, you're a guy that likes having fun. Going out, hanging out with friends, partying and so on. It's not really something you can do with Y/N. Honestly, she's boring. But Siyeon, she is everything Y/N is not. Maybe Siyeon could introduce you to some of her friends, I mean, if you want to have fun"

Jungkook is seeing red. His fists clench as much as his jaws but punching Taehyung right now won't do any good. He can't believe that your ex is such a dick.

"Y/N is fun" He bites back "When you want to settle for good and start a future, you don't need to party every weekends. Y/N and I are planning things on the long-term, very long-term"

He swears he can see Taehyung's jaw hanging on the floor. His face is red from anger and Jungkook sports a cocky smirk.

The conversation ends here because you come back and soon enough, your friends arrive. Jungkook doesn't waste this opportunity to grab your hand and kiss the back of it, looking at your ex straight into the eyes. He even goes further in the provocation by gently caressing the forth finger of your left hand.

The diner ends with way less tension than at the beginning thanks to the presence of your friends and the spouses-to-be. Everyone makes an effort to spend a great evening with them and you're so happy, really. But you need some calm. Being around Taehyung and Siyeon this long and pretend like everything is fine is very hard to do. That's why, after everyone has finished their plates, you offer Jungkook a little walk on the beach. For your friends, it's just a romantic moment but for you, it's necessary to gain perspective.

And the light breeze and soothing melody of the waves brushing the sand help. It feels like heaven. Everything is so calm around you, just like you're stopped in time. A parenthesis of happiness shared with someone special...

You don't know how long you walk on the beach in silence. It's not like you need to say something. Not when the reflection of the moon on the ocean is so beautiful. It's peaceful to be around Jungkook. He doesn't have to say anything to comfort you, just him being here is enough.

"I don't think I've told you how thankful I am to you" You break the silence "Really, Kook, thank you so much. For coming with me this weekend and going along with my crazy idea" You both chuckle but the moment is full of emotions "But not only that. Thank you so much for everything you've done for me. You always support me and gosh, I'm so lucky to have you in my life" The intensity of Jungkook's black eyes on you spurs you to add: "As roommate"

Just for a second, his jaws clench before he nods and regains his soft features. That's why you think that you might have imagined it.

"You don't have to thank me. I'm happy to be here and I'm happy to help you whenever you want" He pauses before adding, like a joke or a dig "As roommate"

You both stare at each other for a moment. Jungkook is so handsome right now. He has this honey tan from the day in the sun. You realize that he has more of a man features now than when you moved with him. His jaw is more defined, his eyes more piercing and rarer in their doe shape. But he is attractive, that's for sure. He always has been but you don't know why you notice it way more now.

These thoughts disturb you but you don't have to think about them more because your roommate grabs your hand. His touch makes you forget everything else.

You just wonder why he is doing that: no one is around. You don't have to play your fake boyfriend/girlfriend roles. Yet, you don't move your hand away. On the contrary, you squeeze his big and warm palm and head, hand-in-hand, to your room.

. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀ ♡

"Should I sleep on the couch?" Jungkook questions, clearly embarrassed

You have both put your pajamas on, ready for a good night of sleep after all the events of the day. That certainly explains why you haven't talked about the elephant in the room yet: the famous one-bed-situation. Since you're pretending to date, you obviously couldn't take two bedrooms but now, what are you going to do?

You're not kids anymore and the bed is big enough for the both of you. However, you're feeling... weird at the idea of sharing it with your roommate. For you, it's an intimate thing. Yet, you can't let Jungkook sleep on the couch while the whole thing was your idea. But, on the other hand, you can't sleep on the couch yourself when you'll have to be fully operative tomorrow for your friends' wedding.

You are both looking at the bed like it's your worst enemy. Yet, it looks so comfy. It's hard to resist to be honest.

The only solution is...

"We can share the bed"

Your voice is a little higher than usual and you don't think you've ever been this red. But it's okay, you're an adult. It's not such a big deal to have a very handsome and attractive man in your bed, right?

"I mean, if it's okay with you" You add quickly when you spot the surprised look on Jungkook's face

"Personally, I'm okay with it. But are you?"

There is playfulness in his tone and rather than soothing you, it actually makes your heart beat faster for undetermined reasons.

"Yeah, of course" You half-lie — you're not 100% sure you'll survive the tension

"Great then!" Your roommate exclaims but decides to complicate things for you when he takes off his t-shirt, leaving him in his grey jog shorts — because he obviously had to chose grey ones

Your staring eyes push him to give you an explanation.

"Sorry but it's too hot here to sleep with a shirt. But it's nothing you haven't seen, right love?" He teases

Yeah, it's too hot to sleep. Especially when those abs are on display.

You join the bed, using it at an excuse to run away from him. You bite your lower lip and quickly turn around to lay on your side. Facing the wall is the only way to control your want to caress his appealing muscles… You want to slap you in the face for thinking that because Jungkook is your roommate. Fantasying on him will make living with him very hard and you’re not ready to give up the delicious kimchi fried rice that he sometimes makes in the morning.  

"Good night" He wishes as he jumps in the bed too

"Good night" You reply, your throat a little dry

"Are you okay?" Jungkook worries and scoots closer and rests on his elbow to have a look on your face

Gosh, you're clearly aware of his body right behind you. You can even feel the heat caressing your back. Your own body reacts — or one specific part of your body to be exact.

You nod and shut your eyes close, trying to find sleep as soon as possible. You hear Jungkook chuckles behind you and he gently caresses your shoulder while wishing good night once again and settles on the other side of the bed.

You have to fight every inch of your body not to press yourself against him. You have to remind you once again that Jungkook is your roommate and he only pretends to be your boyfriend. None of this is real. It's just pretend.

But your sleeping body doesn't seem to care.

When you wake up the next morning, your face is resting on his chest, your arm thrown across his torso and your leg is clinched around his hips.

You carefully lift up your head and you exhale out of relief that Jungkook is still asleep. You move carefully and slowly to put some distance between your bodies but sleepy Jungkook growls and hugs you tighter.

"Baby..." He mutters in his sleep and gosh, your heart does backflips in your chest

It's just impossible not to die from his cuteness. But there is no time for that because a diplomatic incident between roommates is close.

The first step is to move your leg. But the second you do so, your eyes lands on his morning wood. Red rushes to your cheeks as the bulge is clearly visible in his pants. 'Okay, it's just a physical thing, it has nothing to do with you' You force yourself to remind.

Second step: you gently grab his arm around your waist and push it away. You stop breathing in order to detect any sign of awakening. Thankfully, Jungkook is a heavy sleeper.

Last step of your mission is to get out of bed. You move as slowly as you can and sigh in relief when you're on your feet. You rush to the bathroom, just to witness your blushed cheeks in the mirror. You have to stop reacting so much to Jungkook, your roommate.

But you squeak as your eyes land on your neck: the hickey is well noticeable on your skin. You already know that you'll have to put a huge amount of concealer to hide it — but someway, you don't really want to hide it. You easily convince yourself it’s to get back at Taehyung. 

. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀ ♡

"How the fuck am I suppose to tie it?" Jungkook rants

You peak your head out of the bathroom, your mascara still in your hand. You burst into laugh when you notice Jungkook's tie in a very comical knot. You're pretty sure a 4-year old child would do better. Your roommate throws a death stare at you but it only makes you laugh louder.

"Can you stop?" He growls and tries to tie it again, without success

"Come on, I'll help you"

Your playful smile doesn't leave you as you are walking to him but your heart certainly doesn't miss how handsome Jungkook is right now with his black suit. It's elegant on his fit body, just like it was made for him.

"You're 26 and you don't know how to knot a tie..." You tease him while your hands works on the black fabric, soft as silk

"Yah! It's not like I wear it on a daily basis!" Jungkook defends himself, pouting slightly

Actually, you wouldn't be surprised if he told you that he bought his suit specially for Namjoon's wedding.

"Here you go" You announce when you're done

You swipe away some imaginary dust on his shoulders just to be able to touch him. You admire how the suit wraps perfectly his torso.

"You're beautiful" He suddenly says, voicing your own thoughts about him, and his voice has never been softer

The unexpected compliment makes your moves stop and your eyes lift up to meet his. You can see the sincerity in them and you pat yourself on the shoulder for choosing this long pale yellow with blue flowers dress.

"Thank you" You manage to say despite the tension drying your throat, even more when Jungkook settles his warm hands on your hips

Instinctively, your own hands tighten on his large shoulders and your body gets closer to his. This tension is too much for you and your weak heart. Once again, you have to remember that you are just pretending to date. It's not good for your sake if it looks too real when it's unnecessary because it'll give you hope and then, you'll have your heart broken. And you certainly don't want to have your heart broken by Jungkook because, without completely understanding it, you know that it'll hurt far more than when Taehyung did it.

"We should get going" You state, putting distance as much on a physical plan as on a emotional one

Your roommate clears his throat just like he wanted to clear his mind too and agrees with you. With a weird atmosphere, you two leave your room.

You have about a five-minute walk to pull yourself together and enter your 'girlfriend-who-is-so-in-love-with-her-boyfriend' character — which, you're afraid to say, it's not so hard to do...

. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀ ♡

The wedding ceremony takes place on the beach, with white seats for the few friends that have accompanied you. You're not ashamed to say that you shedded a tear during the vows — giving Jungkook an opportunity to hug you tight and peck your cheek — and you're surely not the only one. The ceremony though was quite simple and quick because Namjoon and Tzuyu have rent one of the reception halls of the hotel.

Just like the rest of the common areas, it's all wooden and white curtains flying away with the breeze. It's not a huge hall but it has enough place for a dance floor, a bar and some tables for lunch. Honestly, it's your dream wedding since everything is so romantic. The only problem is that you don't have anyone to marry...

The man you thought you were going to spend your life with cheated on you and is right here with that girl. And the man you could want to marry is faking your relationship. You don't really know how everything went so out of control recently...

But it doesn't really matter because the said fake-boyfriend leads you to your table, a hand on your lower back. This very hand slightly goes down as you approach your ex. You don't hear it but Taehyung makes a not so nice comment about your roommate, complaining about how you could choose a tattoo artist — basically describing him as a delinquent — when you were with your ex, working at a prestigious law firm in Seoul. This comment makes Jungkook tense, especially his fists and jaws. He could throw punch but it wouldn't be smart — he doesn’t know why his fighting instinct jumps up every time he spots the stupid face of your ex. So Jungkook whispers, loud enough for Taehyung to hear it, something so scandalous that you gasp.

"Can I tattoo my name on your ass? It'd look so fucking cute"

How can he say something like that?! It's so scandalous, so... hot. Thankfully, by the time you should respond, you're far enough from Taehyung and Siyeon for them to spot your words.

"Jungkook!" You scold him but your red cheeks don’t do much to pretend to be firm "Don't say that!"

"Sorry" He apologizes but his proud smile is a clear sign that he doesn't regret at all "But the face Taehyung made totally worth it"

You roll your eyes playfully and push on his shoulder to make him sit down at your table. Since you'll have to say a few words — a little speech you've spent hours to write with Jungkook's help —, you are given the honor to be at the bride and groom's table.

You give a warm smile to Yoongi, Namjoon's best man. Despite knowing Namjoon for some years now, you've never spent too much time with Yoongi. It can be mainly explained by the fact that the black-haired man is not fond of social events and rather much prefers staying at home. The occasions on which you get to see this rare species are per se exceptional. However, you are always amazed by the beauty of Yoongi: his skin is so white, perfect like the most polished porcelain, but his hair is so black, just like his eyes. The contrast is strong, almost supernatural. Perhaps it's also the way that you can't read his face most of the times.

The way Yoongi stays quiet, looking intensely at you and Jungkook, makes you think that he can read right through you. Does he know that you're faking everything with your roommate? Even if he does, he welcomes you with a brief but friendly nod of head.

Jungkook seems to be more at ease around Yoongi than you are, starting the conservation without being offended by the silence from the other side of the table. Someway, a proud smile appears on your face when you watch your (fake) boyfriend trying his best to be friendly with your social circle. You know that, despite Jungkook's nature of friendlyness, he really wants to be appreciated by your friends. It warms your heart that he is doing more efforts in one weekend than Taehyung has done in a whole year of relationship.

You can't help a giggle at Jungkook being totally immersed into his story of how he went to the wrong apartment one time after drinking too much, in the wrong fucking building. You put your hand on his on the table and you're sure that your roommate doesn't even notice how intimately he intertwines yours fingers. He doesn't have to notice actually, because you do it for the two of you, blushing lightly under your makeup.

"It's good to see you happy" Yoongi suddenly says at you after Jungkook's storytime

You're a bit surprised by Yoongi's words though. First of all, because he doesn't talk much. Then, because you were happy before, you mean with Taehyung, right? Didn't you seem happy before? Are you happier now in a fake relation?

Those questions make you slightly frown and you just can respond with a nod of head. You try to deviate the conversation in order to think about that and ask Jungkook to tell the one time he has to take down the whole sink of the bathroom because you thought your ring was in it but it was actually in your jewelry box.

Thankfully, Namjoon and Tzuyu's arrival is a good distraction for your brain, and followed by the food served. You watch Jungkook frowning as he is chewing on his lobster, notifying you that he enjoys the meal very much. You even hear him exclaim a 'damn!' of appreciation.

On your side, Tzuyu elbows you to catch your attention.

"You look so in love. I'm so happy you found someone good after Tae" She whispers

You look in love? On the one hand, it's a good thing that you are fooling everyone but on the other hand, you're not sure to be that great of an actress. Do you look in love because you are? If that so, you are in a big mess.

"Well, Jungkook is nice" You choose to respond, carefully avoiding the part about you being in love with your roommate/fake-boyfriend

"He is whipped for you too, you know. He hasn't stopped looking at you when you weren't paying attention" Tzuyu giggles

Being taken aback is an understatement. You shouldn't pay too much care about what Tzuyu is saying because she thinks you are dating Jungkook. Maybe she just wants to be nice, or maybe your roommate's acting is amazingly believable for the people around you but you, on the other hand, shouldn't believe it too much. It's getting harder and harder to separate the genuine attentions of the friend with whom you've been sharing an apartment for four years from his behaviour as your pretend boyfriend. And you are messing with the two, too.

You clear your mind, swallowing the rest of your glass of wine. You don't want to think about that, you just want to enjoy your friends' wedding and enjoy someone 'loving' you for the weekend, even if it's just pretend and even if it ends tomorrow morning.

This new attitude allows you to recover your usual smile and you don't even mind Jungkook's arm on your chair when the diner is over, just like a protective boyfriend would do.

It doesn't mean that you get to leave your table just yet: now is the time for the emotional —sometimes embarrassing — speeches.

Namjoon is the first one to start. He thanks everyone for coming to the wedding and basically declares his love all over again to his new wife. Tzuyu can't help a few tears during her own speech, insisting that the wedding is just like she has imagined since she was a young girl and that all the guests — minus Taehyung you imagine — are welcomed to their house after their honeymoon.

You are intrigued by Yoongi's speech, wondering what such a quiet person will say in front of a crowd, even though it's just a gathering of a few friends. You are truly surprised to see how ease he is. It looks like he is doing that exercise everyday, even adding a few jokes. Yoongi doesn't talk for long but that's not surprising. He just expresses his genuine happiness for his best friend and wishes the best for the newly married couple.

When it's your turn, you can't help but feel a little stressed. Jungkook must feel it because he gently squeezes your hand and gives you an encouraging smile.

You stand up and you immediately regret looking at your ex since he is making out with his girlfriend — in quite a disgusting way if someone asks you. You quickly look away, searching for a more friendly face and settle on Hoseok. His sweet smile gives you the courage to start speaking after clearing your throat and swiping your sweaty palms on your dress.

"I'm not used to give speeches but I'm used to talk about love. I think it's no secret for anyone here that I'm a huge romantic. I mean, romantic comedies have no secret for me!" You're relieved to earn a few laughs "And I have to say that I'm a little bit jealous about Tzuyu and Namjoon: it was love at first sight and they haven't stopped loving each other since then. I think we all want to have someone that loves us like Namjoon and Tzuyu love each other. I am so happy to be here to witness your love" You say to the couple, your eyes a little blurring because of your tears "I just want you to be happy every single day of the rest of your life together and I hope I'll be able to stand in front of you in the future and tell you that I found a love just like yours"

You can't stop yourself from looking at Jungkook when you end your speech. You only hear in the distance the cheering of your friends because you are too occupied to try analyzing your roommate's face.

He is looking at you funny and you don't know why. Did you say something wrong?

You don't have time to question yourself more than that since a crying bride hugs you tight and whispers in your ear how touched she is by your words.

When you get to look back at Jungkook, he seems to be the same as always: bunny smile and scrunched nose. You might have imagined everything, after all, you had tears in your eyes...

. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀ ♡

It's dance time.

You wouldn't usually dare to step on the dance floor but Jungkook has whined to you. You finally sighed and took his reached hand. And you don't regret because you are having a lot of fun, dancing with your friends. You don't even care that your moves are not very elegant because, except fro Hoseok, your friends are not professional dancers.

You have to admit that Jungkook is pretty good but it's not surprising since the man has no weakness.

However, the whole mood changes when a slow dance fills the speakers. You hesitate to step out of the dance floor but your roommate gently grabs your waist and pulls you closer to him.

You rest one hand on his large shoulder and the other is wrapped by his tattooed palm. Soft, warm and comforting. Just like his personality, you think to yourself. You feel coated in a strange atmosphere but it’s not unpleasant, not at all. It’s good, it’s perfect. You realize that you love dancing for Jungkook, you love how he holds you tight against him. 

“Taehyung is looking at us” He whispers in your ears and you’re surprised to haven even forget about him while he is the very reason of you being in Jungkook’s arms “Can I kiss your neck?”

You don’t think twice before nodding — and not because of your ex. 

Your breathe itches when a soft pair of lips lands on your thin skin. Goosebumps cover your body but it’s not like you can’t think about it. All that you can feel is the tenderness of the kisses Jungkook settles on you. It’s divine, truly divine. You’re too caught in the moment and maybe Jungkook feels the same because his kiss turns into sucking. His hickeys on your neck heats to your body, builds tension in you and you’re having a hard time concealing a moan. You wish he’d never stop.

"Your speech was nice" He says lowly, almost out of breathe

He keeps his face buried in the crook of your neck so you don’t see the way his dark eyes shines with hunger. 

"Yeah, I changed the end a little bit" You manage to answer

You don't know why your heart so fast. It's not the first time you're this close to Jungkook during the weekend but it feels different. You want to touch him more gently, almost with love — which one, you're not sure yet.

"It was perfect. You were perfect"

Is he aware of what he is doing to you? Probably not. Your roommate doesn't know that those sweet, sweet words are the kind of things that makes you fall in love.

At this moment, you realize that you are, indeed, in love with Jungkook. Since when? You don't know and it's not even important. You have a way bigger problem: you are in love with your roommate, who is currently pretending to be your boyfriend. So, it's basically a you-problem and if you tell Jungkook the truth, he will just say that he was acting just like you freaking asked him to!

To sum up: you're doomed.

It's not like you didn't know. Like you said, you're a fan of rom-com. You should have known that you would fall in love at some point, especially when the guy is this attractive... And yet, here you are: just acknowledging that you love your roommate, in a middle of a slow dance, in the most romantic place on Earth.

You sigh at your stupidity.

"Everything's fine?" Jungkook asks with a frown

"Yeah, yeah. I just need to use the bathroom real quick" You let him know

You give him small smile, that disappears when Jungkook gets closer to land the sweetest peck on your cheek, very close to the corner of your mouth. The man is going to kill you.

"I'll wait for you" He promises and gosh, you wish he was talking about your love and not your pee

You nod and run away as quickly as you can, not aware that your ex has followed you.

Your fake boyfriend, however, has seen it clear as day. And he was ready to stop him when Siyeon came in Jungkook's way.

"There is no point" She says, sipping on her glass "You know that Taehyung wants her back, right?"

Even though Jungkook's jaws clench, he nods. He couldn't misinterpret the way Taehyung was looking as you. He was jealous of Jungkook but he was also hurt. And who Jungkook is kidding? You literally asked him to play your boyfriend because of Taehyung. If he asks for a second chance, will you say yes?

"She's with me now" He says with a dry tone

Jungkook doesn't know if he is trying to convince Siyeon or himself. He has a little hope that you won't fall for Taehyung again — for some selfish reasons but also because he doesn't want you to be hurt again.

"Yeah, and Tae is with me but here we are" Siyeon says with bitterness "If they are getting back together, why shouldn't we be together? We could have some fun" She adds with her seductive honey voice

Siyeon is beautiful, Jungkook acknowledges that. And she is damn good at flirting, scooting closer to your roommate, almost touching him. But Jungkook can't do that to you. He is supposed to be your boyfriend and it would be pretty fucked up if he was involved with the woman your ex cheated on you with. More than that, he is not attracted by Siyeon at all.

"Like I said, I'm with Y/N"

Jungkook's tone is a little harsher.

"And like I said, Taehyung wants her back"

Jungkook doesn't know why this memory comes to his mind right now. Maybe it's just defense mechanism: it comes to his mind to reassure him that you won't actually get back together with Taehyung. It's strange though because he has tried so hard in the past to erase it from his brain... But right now, it can't fight it and this night, the first time you invited Taehyung at your place at the beginning of your relationship a year ago, is clear as day.

Jungkook's earphones and video games were quite effective to conceal any noise coming from your room. Your roommate knew that you had a boyfriend, you had told him about it and you looked so happy and excited that he couldn't say 'no' when you had asked him if you could invite Taehyung here. It was also your apartment so you could bring anyone you wanted to be honest. But your caring nature still told you that the correct behavior was to ask your roommate first.

However, Jungkook knew that something would happen in your bedroom tonight, which was making things awkward for him. When you had moved in, Jungkook was very clear with himself not to see you as a woman, just for purpose of healthy cohabitation. He tricked his brain so he could see you like a little sister and it was very convenient when you would step out of your room in the morning with a sleepy face, messy hair and a t-shirt barely covering your panties. After witnessing that scene a few times, Jungkook adopted a new habit: going to the gym before you would wake up.

But now, with a man in your room, you were not your innocent self and Jungkook knew it damn well. It was hard to pretend you weren't probably naked and having sex. Your roommate did not want to hear a single thing about what was going on, which explained the maximum volume of the video game in his ears.

However, he had a problem: he was so fucking thirsty.

After debating for a few long minutes if he should risk it, he decided to be quick and grab a glass of water.

Opening his door, he peaked his head out carefully, waiting if he could hear something but it was quiet for now. 'That's my luck' He thought and basically ran to the kitchen. But well, it was not really his luck because, as he was waiting for his glass to fill up, he heard.

It was faint but he couldn't mistake it: you were moaning. Cute little moans that you wanted to mutter it seemed. From your sounds, it was hard not to imagine how you would look like all naked, pressed against him when he would fuck you dumb, making you scream his name and not those small groans. Jungkook could feel his cock hardening despite his scolding to his body. He didn't want to physically react at you having sex with another man — no, having sex, period. He was ready to run back to his room when he heard your conversation. He knew he shouldn't listen but his curiosity had won the battle.

"Did you finish?" You asked with a small voice

"Yeah" Taehyung replied between his pantings, his smile noticeable in his voice "And you?"

"Well... no" You were clearly embarrassed to confess it

Jungkook almost bursted into laugh. Not to praise himself but it was rare he wouldn't make a woman come before him. However, it was not a problem if it happened because some women just need more time to reach the high. He would just eat her out or finger her until both sides were equally satisfied.

However, he wouldn't have imagined your boyfriend's response.

"Sorry, doll, I'm so tired. Next time, okay?"

Your roommate had no problem picturing you nodding at him. You didn't like conflicts, you didn't like contradicting people. Sometimes it was frustrating for Jungkook — he even had had to take your phone when you had called the after-sales service for your computer and that the employee had told you they couldn't do anything and, of course, when Jungkook had stepped in and clearly said that he wouldn't give up until you were fully refunded, the employee had seemed to be nicer all of sudden and a magical solution appeared.

"I'm going to the bathroom" You notified Taehyung

Jungkook panicked and was quick to reach his room, your conversation with your boyfriend replaying in his brain. He couldn't understand why Taehyung would do that. He also wondered if it was usual for you not to come when you had sex with him. That's things he knew he shouldn't think about but it was hard not to do when he knew you would have come with him... And Jungkook wouldn't let you sleep without at least two more orgasms just because you deserved it for being this cute and this pretty.

But his body froze when he heard you entering the shower. The bathroom was next to his bedroom and the shower shared a wall with his room. At first, Jungkook thought he was imagining things and that it was just the water running thought the pipes. But no.

You were masturbating.

Jungkook could hear your choked moans, probably when the shower head was aiming your clit directly. And it was not good for your roommate. It was impossible not to have a boner.

"Oh god!" You moaned, a little louder and Jungkook was gone

He said "fuck it" and freed his hard cock from his sweatpants. He started pumping his dick at your groans, picturing you in this fucking shower pleasuring yourself. He imagined joining you and making you cum while your stupid boyfriend was sleeping in your bed.

"Fuck" You moaned again and it was even more arousing for Jungkook because you never cursed

You were such a good girl, and now you were masturbating right next to him. He wondered which naughty words could come from your appealing mouth when you were fucked good. Jungkook would have loved making you say all kinds of bad words, turning you into a sin when you were the perfect picture of an angel.

"Shit, Y/N..." Jungkook whispered to himself when your image became too vivid for his sanity

Your moans got a pitch higher and Jungkook knew you were close. He increased his pace, stroking his dick insanely fast but he couldn't stop. This moment was one of the most erotic ones of his life: you pleasuring yourself in the shower and having no idea that he was listening to you and jerking off on you.

"Come on, baby, cum for me" Jungkook spurred you even though you couldn't hear him

But it didn't matter because chance made you come right after, and Jungkook finished too, his cum making a mess on his fist and pants.

Even though it was one of the best masturbating sessions of his life, Jungkook promised himself not to ever think about it again because, at the end of the day, what he did was so fucking wrong.

. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀ ♡

You made a decision. You looked at yourself in the mirror and found a strength you didn't know you had. And you are sure about it: you are going to step out of this bathroom and you are going to confess to Jungkook.

So what if he doesn't share your feelings? Jungkook is a good man, he won't make a fool out of you and if anything, you know he'll just feel bad for you. But the most important thing is that you are sure of our feelings and you are not ashamed of them. Actually, it's a privilege to have such a friend and roommate in your life.

You give yourself some last words of encouragement and step out of your hideout.

Instantly, all the courage you've managed to gather fades away because you are facing Taehyung. You hate that he can destroy so easily the mere confidence Jungkook gave you. You wished you could just avoid him but he calls you out.

"What do you want?" You ask a little cold

"Give me another chance" He says out of the blunt

Your eyes widen as you wonder if you heard well. You certainly did not expect that. But you also can't believe his nerve: he cheated on you, came to the your friends' wedding with his new girl and now he wants another chance?!

Honestly, if he had asked a few days ago, maybe you would have fall again for him — because you genuinely thought that what you were feeling for him was love — but it's not the case anymore. Not after Jungkook. You acknowledge that it's a strange thing to say when you are actually not in a real relationship with the man and that you have tried real hard to convince yourself that your feelings were not what they looked like. However, now that you have stopped denying, there is no turning back.

You only manage to reply a chocked 'what?', still shocked by Taehyung's announcement.

"I made a mistake. A big mistake" Your ex explains, getting closer to you with hope in his — you hate to say it — beautiful brown eyes "Seeing you with someone else made me realize it. I am so sorry, Y/N, please just give me another chance"

"Are you drunk?!" You exclaim, half choking

"I'm not drunk!" Taehyung defends himself, almost offended "We could start again and forgive each other. You know that I—“ But you cut him off

"Forgive each other?" You scoff "I did nothing wrong, Taehyung!"

"Well, you lied to me when you said that nothing was going with your roommate and that nothing could ever happen" He states

He clearly looks pissed but it's not your problem. You can't believe he is placing on the same level his cheating and your fake relation with Jungkook — well, to be fair, Taehyung doesn't know it's fake and he probably assumes that you've cheated too if you are with someone else this fast after your breakup.

"But I didn't cheat!" You yell, unable to contain your frustration "You cheated on me and you broke my heart but guess what? Thank you because if you haven't, I wouldn't have noticed how bad you are for me. I don't love you anymore and I am not going to apologize for finding a good man who takes care of me. Jungkook is good for me and I'm happy when I'm with him. He makes me happy and I'm in love with him. So please, be respectful to Siyeon and I will act like this conversation never happened"

You turn away, proud of your badass moment but stop and squeak. Jungkook is standing right there. He. Has. Heard. Everything.

If the ground could open and swallow you whole, you'll be blessed. But it stays hard as rock for a greater humiliation of yourself. You didn't plan to confess — if you can call that a confession when you made it to the wrong person — this way.

You stop breathing, not knowing what to say or do. Everything went so wrong so fast.

But as usual, Jungkook saves the day and simply grabs your hand to escape your ex-boyfriend's stare.

. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀ ♡

After the little interaction with Taehyung, neither Jungkook nor you are in the mood for partying. Even though you feel guilty for leaving your friends' wedding party, you know that you'll only ruin the festive atmosphere. Your roommate seems like he doesn't mind and you're pretty sure he feels the same since he has not smiled once, which is rare, but you don't quite get why he is like that.

You don't have to talk to each other to agree with heading back to your room. Maybe being in a more quiet place will help to get your mind straight.

You still don't speak to Jungkook when you reach your door. You don't really know what to say and the same goes for your fake boyfriend.

The awkward air around you spurs you to lock yourself in the bathroom. Honestly, you pray that a hot shower will clear your mind and yeah, it does help a little. But when you grab the knot after changing into your pajama, you don't feel like you're strong enough to face Jungkook. The truth is that you’re embarrassed but you don’t even know why. Is it because he has heard you? Or because he has seen you loosing your temper in front of your ex? Or just because your feelings are all over the place and you don’t know how to deal with it?

He heard everything and you totally terrified that he'll break your heart, even though it's not what he wants. But one thing is sure: you can't hide in the bathroom forever. So you gather your courage and open the door.

You didn't expect to see a defeated Jungkook, sit on the bed with his head in his hands. He must have been like this all the time you were hiding because he is still wearing his shirt, even though he has loosen up his tie around his neck.

You hate to notice how hot he looks despite his... his what actually? Misery? It can't be that.

"Hey" You say softly not to scare Jungkook who is so deep in his thoughts that he hasn't heard you approaching

"Hey" He replies automatically

He lifts his head up and your heart squeezes at his beauty and sadness in his black eyes.

"I think we should talk" You start, not very sure if you're ready for it actually

"Yes, we should" He encourages you with a faint smile

You sit next to him and you wish you weren't that aware of the heat coming from his body. You are sensitive when he is around, it's like you can feel things ten times harder than usual.

"About what you heard..." You wince, embarrassed about how things went with Taehyung — and also you're not sure how much Jungkook has heard actually

"Yeah, don't worry" He cuts you off "I know that you had to act like we are together, so you don't have to mind"

You don't like that. You don't like how cold and hurt he sounds. You don't like that he thinks you lied about your feelings. It's almost painful.

"It's not really how I wanted things to go" You scoff, speaking to yourself more than to him

You're feeling frustrated. You run your hand through your hair and grunt when you destroy the bun you forget you had done. Everything is going wrong. You wanted to confess but it should have come naturally. Why Taehyung keeps messing with everything in your life?

You are so mad against him that you can't even stay sit. You almost jump on your feet and start walking back and forth in front of Jungkook who is looking at you like you are crazy.

"Listen to me, okay?" You find the courage to say after a long minute of silence

You stay straight in front of him, hoping that your feet locked on the wooden floor will help you to get straight to the point.

"I realized something" You continue "This weekend, when I got to spend time with you, I realized that I don't love Taehyung anymore"

You are almost out of breathe with how fast your heart is beating and even more when you see the surprise on Jungkook's face.

"I don't love him. And also, I didn't lie when I said that I love you"

You want to pat yourself on your back for finally saying those words that scared you so much.

"I really, really love you, Jungkook"

You hoped it was like in movies, that your confession brought his confession but he stays painfully silent. Is it the moment you're going to be rejected?

"Can you please say something?" You beg with a broken voice and tears in your eyes

"I don't want to be your rebound, Y/N" He finally says

What?

Does he really think that? Doesn't he realize how perfect he is? That you've never felt something this strong for everyone, not even Taehyung?

"You're not!" You promise "Jungkook, you're not my rebound. You are just... perfect. I don't even know how I could have been so blind. I love you not because of Taehyung, not because you pretended to be my boyfriend this weekend. I love you because you are you"

"Can you please stop talking?" He asks softly, bringing his inked hand to his face and breaking your heart at the same time "You're confused right now, I get it" You want to argue but he doesn't give you time "But you can't do that to me. If you say that you love me just to break my heart afterward, I don't know if I can take it, not after this long of dreaming you would say those words to me"

You're taken aback now. What does he mean? You're afraid to misinterpret and yet, you want to believe it so much.

"I love you" You can't help but say one more time, just because you can't contain your love inside you anymore

You love Jungkook too much for your own good but who cares? He deserves so much.

You just want to feel close to him now, and for that you walk to him and place your body between his manspreading. You cup his so perfect face, admiring his beautiful dark eyes, the little scar in his cheek and his lips. He is so handsome that you're having a hard time breathing.

"I love you" You repeat so lowly that it's almost a whisper

You seal your words with a kiss. And it's the best kiss ever, especially when Jungkook kisses you back. The sensation of the cold lip ring against your burning skin is new but not unpleasant —definitely not unpleasant. Slowly, your hands leave his jaws to tie behind his neck as you're afraid he'll scoot away. However, it seems like Jungkook wants to have you closer — which you are absolutely down for — and grabs your hips to urge you to sit on his lap.

This proximity is great to deepen your kiss. You press your chest against his and your fingers play with his soft and black hair. You honestly didn't know that kissing someone could be this good. And all the stars seem to be aligned for you since Jungkook loves your kiss too, the proof being that he wraps your body with his strong arms, making sure you'll stay against him.

It doesn't take too long for the romantic kiss to turn into something else. Something more... heated.

You just can't help your hips from grinding on his lap, earning a low grunt of satisfaction from Jungkook. He even grabs your waist just to press you deeper, feel you better. You both internally curse at your clothes but you don't want to leave the warmth and wetness of each other's lips.

With regret, you separate from his mouth to catch your breathe but the air is cut off your lungs as you look at him. He is insanely handsome. His hair is a mess, similar to when he wakes up but sexier since you know you're the reason why. He also has this cute side with his faint blushed cheeks, but his lips are what attract you the most: they are glossy by the mix of your salivas and swollen. You even wonder how his lip ring is still hanging on his thin skin.

"Are you sure you want to do this? Because I'm not sure I can stop if we keep going"

You're surprised by the raspiness of his voice. Sure, you know his morning and hoarse voice but right now, it's different. Deeper, sexier and addictive.

You can only shiver, wondering how this voice would sound saying some outrageous filthy words.

You look at him in the eyes and they've never been this dark. But they are beautiful, so beautiful that you stop breathing for a second.

"I'm sure, Kook"

You don't recognize your voice either. You're not sure you've ever sounded this desperate before and yet, you don't care. Because it's true: you are desperate for Jungkook. Everyone seems to know except him and that's frustrating. Doesn't he know that this kiss is the best one you've ever had? That you don't even want to feel someone else's lips on you? Why can't he believe you when you say that you love him?

Frustration from these questions pushes you to capture his mouth again but this time, your hands work on his shirt to open every button. You definitely want to feel more of his skin and it's like a relief when his shirt is open enough for you to caress his bare chest. His skin is soft and warm under your fingertips but his hard muscles are right under it.

You scoot a little over, abandoning his perfect mouth to look at his torso and gosh, what a sexy man he is...

You only have a little peak of his tattoo shoulder and only the upper part of his abs but you are blushing like crazy. Jungkook is too hot to handle, that's for sure, but you don't really care burning yourself.

You run your hands on his skin and you're surprised — and pleased — to feel his hardening cock twitching as you do you.

"You drive me crazy" Jungkook whispers but you're not sure he is talking to you or to himself

The tattooed man buries his face in the crook of your neck to enjoy your touch even more. The second you are getting back at your task on the remaining buttons, he starts setting wet kisses on your throat which makes you loose your mind. You can't focus on your moves, you only feel his warm mouth on your thin skin, kissing and sucking.

Your roommate smirks a little when he spots the hickey he's done earlier and he can't help but suck on it again, making it bigger and redder. He really much enjoys your choked moans but one thing he doesn't know is how wet your panties are right now. You're happy to be sit because you perfectly know that your legs are as soft as marshmallow.

But this hickey is not enough for Jungkook, not when the shadow of your ex still flows in his head. He wants you to be his, and not only for this weekend, not only for pretending. And he needs a visible proof of that. That's why he creates a whole constellation of purple marks on your throat and it's addicting. If it’s childish, he doesn’t care. 

"Kook" You whine at some point when you reach your limit — you need him right now

"Tell me what you want" He teases you while he knows damn well that you're too shy you ask for it

You bite your swollen lips, driving Jungkook crazy. He really wants to kiss you again but he also wants you to answer, to see this new side of you.

"I-I want you" You decide to settle for, looking away but it's not enough for your roommate

"I'm right here" He says with a smirk

"Please" You whine, your eyes settling in his with all your courage

Fuck, Jungkook thinks. He doesn't even want to tease you anymore. You're too good for him and he can't wait any longer.

With ease, he grabs your waist and settles you on the comfortable bed. You blush even more when he gets rid off his shirt with urge. You brush his firm torso with your eyes and bite your lower lip at the noticeable bulge in his pants.

"Take your shorts and panties off for me" He asks and you deliver 

You're not the most confident person when it comes to sex but with Jungkook, you feel safe. And the way he looks at you, like you were the finest piece of art, gives you some assurance.

"Shit, your pussy is so pretty" He curses lowly at your glistening cunt

His rough fingers slide up and down your wet folds, making you whine. You just need more, you're too horny for teasing but Jungkook doesn't care.

His thumb slowly draws circles on your clit and you can't help but arch your back and grab the sheets in your fists. Jungkook absolutely loves watching you like this. You are so gorgeous all desperate for his touch — just like he is for your love. He didn't know he'd have the chance to see this part of you but now, he is not sure he can get enough of it.

"Kook" You moan as his thumb applies more pressure

"Do you know how beautiful you are?" He asks but slides two fingers inside you at the same time, preventing you from answering 

You gasp and moan simultaneously as the stretch feels so, so good and as his words are the softest ones.

"I'm gonna make you cum so good, baby" He promises

He enhances his pace, kicking the air of your lungs, and his free hand pushes your top higher so he can suck on your hard nipples. The cold metal of his lip ring on your burning skin and his teeth teasing your sensitive buds make it impossible for you to think straight — not that it’s time to do math anyway.

Your right hand goes up to caress or tug on his black hair or push him deeper against you — you can't know.

Your walls start clenching sporadically, a sign that you are close. But it's so good you don't want to stop. However, Jungkook seems to have a whole other plan since he slides a third digit in your dripping cunt.

"Oh gosh!" You chock

"Please cum for me, love"

You hate — love — that he is using the pet name because there is nothing you'd refuse when he does so. You reach the highest high ever, shaking underneath him and clenching on his fingers.

You have to take a moment to reach back to Earth but Jungkook doesn't urge you. He pull off his fingers from your hole and settles sweet kisses on your boobs, neck and cheeks. You're not sure you've ever felt so good. Jungkook is too good. You love him too much, so much that you want to cry but you gather all your strength to prevent your eyes from getting wet.

"You did good, baby" He praises softly, kissing your forehead

The smile that his words has drawn on your face disappears when you watch Jungkook leaves toward the bathroom.

"Where are you going?" You ask, panic noticeable in your voice

"You cummed hard and you had a long day, you must tired" He explains like it was evident that you deserved some rest

"But... what about you?" You vaguely point out his crotch

"You don't have to worry about me" He smiles but you pout

It's not that you worry about him, it's that you want him. Yeah, you did come hard but you feel like you would never get enough of him, of his touch. And it took you a lot of courage to get to that point, you won’t chicken out now. 

“I want to feel you” You manage to say with burning cheeks

Jungkook hesitates but a little pouted ‘please’ from you convinces him to come back next to you and kiss you even deeper. You enjoy his weight on your body and you enjoy his warmth, especially when he takes off you top completely. You’re left totally naked under him and you want him to be just like you. You mentally curse at his remaining suit pants but your bodies are too close to each other for you to sneak a hand and free him from his clothes (your only reward is the fabric of his pants rubbing your sensitive clit delightfully). 

Your silenced wish comes true when Jungkook lifts up his body enough to undo his pants and slides them down along with his briefs and god, what a sight! You certainly didn’t expect him to be this big and this thick. You get it now when you heard him on the phone with his friends from time to time, bragging about his size. And still, he is damn modest! 

You stare at his hard member, not really daring to touch it even when you crave to do so. And Jungkook seems to read your mind as he delicately takes your hand and places it around his dick that immediately twitches. Just like the rest of his body, his skin is soft, velvety even, but rock hard — you’re not complaining at all. You are completely hypnotized and you instinctively start some light stroking.

Jungkook closes his eyes and breathes deeply through his nose since your touch is delightful. Better than he could ever be able to imagine. Even with his cock in your hand, he can feel your shyness yet your tenderness. You’re an innocent girl doing filthy stuff and someway, it makes him incredibly horny. Call it corruption kink, he’d call it love. Now that he has a taste of you, he doesn’t want anyone else to touch you because there is no way they won’t fall for you. 

“Do you like it?” You shyly ask when you brush his tip with your thumb, sending shiver down Jungkook’s body

“Yeah” He says in a shaky breathe

He cannot control a drop of pre cum from escaping, which makes his tip glistening — and appetizing for you — as you spread it with your fingertip. 

You lift up your eyes and meet a very, very hot Jungkook. His eyes are dark, intense but you still can spot some shininess. It tells you that he likes how you touch him. It’s what you needed to gain  confidence and enhance just a bit your pace around his dick. 

Maybe you’re an expert, or maybe you don’t realize it but you are caressing the very sensitive part connecting his tip to his length every time you go up, and Jungkook is two seconds away from losing it. With a low growl, he quite roughly cups your face and kisses you messily. The sudden force and urge that you feel from him is overwhelming and you don’t even know how to move anymore. That’s why your hand stands still on his member that you feel twitching from time to time — especially when the tattooed man captures your swollen lower lip between his teeth. 

“You are so precious” He whispers and his words seem so profound that your heart squeezes “Let me make love to you” 

You nod instantly because there is nothing more that you’d like but then you freeze as reality hits you. 

“I don’t have condoms” You say but disappointment is as noticeable on your face as in your voice 

Jungkook looks at you, amused. He gives a quick and sweet kiss on your nose before heading towards his bag where his wallet is. With a victorious “Ah-Ha!”, he brandishes a metallic square fold. 

It’s your time to look at him funny and, when he realizes it, Jungkook turns a little bit white — a sign of his panic. 

“It’s not what you think!” He exclaims with urge “I didn’t plan to have sex with you — or with anyone! It’s just that I always have one with me, you know, just to be careful”

You wait for him to stop rambling and open your mouth, amused.

“I didn’t say anything” 

The playful smile on your face cocks a brow on Jungkook’s face. 

“You don’t have to speak, woman, I know what you think” He states as his usual confidence comes back 

You playfully push his shoulder with your foot but Jungkook gently grabs it and settles a kiss on your inner ankle. The gesture is so tender, so intimate and so lovely that your heart could melt out of love. He can’t not realize that everyone would fall in love with him when he acts like that. Everyone is looking for someone that makes you feel this cherished and you just wish you were able to make him feel the same. 

The tension builds up when Jungkook marks his way up your leg with kisses. Each one of them draws delightful goosebumps and wets your pussy a little more. When he is close enough to your core, Jungkook kisses your inner thigh one last time before settling a sweet kiss on your clit and you can’t help but giggle like a stupid teenager in love — but well, you’re in love with him. 

You’ve never been this impatient while waiting for someone to put a condom on but Jungkook seems to shake your whole universe. When he is done and has settled his strong body between your opened legs, he looks at you just like he was wordlessly asking for your consent again, which you grant with a big smile and a light stroke on his cheek. 

He still teases you a little bit when he grabs the base of his cock and slides it between your folds. The pornographic moan that escapes your perfect lips drives Jungkook crazy, and he cannot resist anymore. He needs to feel you. So he places his tip at your entrance and almost faints out of pleasure as your tight cunt throbs around him. He has no other choice than to bury his face in the crook of your neck to prevent from groaning your name, which would be very embarrassing this soon. 

His tattooed hand finds yours and he intertwines your fingers in the best possible as he enters you slowly. You can’t help a gasp and squeezes his hand tighter because gosh, he is big. He is definitely stretching you, almost to your limits, and the pain blends into pleasure — something you’ve never felt. 

“You’re okay?” He asks, not without worry, his eyes scanning your face

“You’re big” 

“Sorry” He apologizes, almost embarrassed 

“It’s so good” You reassure him and you witness relief on his handsome face 

When Jungkook captures your lips again, you feel his urge coming back and he finally pushes his whole length into your cunt. You feel full. Jungkook is big and thick, and he fits so well in you. You wish you could keep him like that forever. Your legs wrap around his firm torso to keep him close, to cuddle him. 

When he settles a slow but passionate pace, you feel like in Heaven. You love how Jungkook makes love to you because he is gentle but he still provides deep and strong dick strokes making you see stars. You moan louder and Jungkook curses when you tighten around him. 

“You feel so right” He whispers in your ears before kissing the thin skin of your throat

His inked hand hasn’t left yours and his other one his gently caressing your boob. His hips know how to move to hit that special place inside you. 

“Fuck” You moan and Jungkook remembers how bad he wanted you to say that when he heard you masturbating

It’s even better when you curse while he is fucking you and that thought spurs him to enhance his pace. Long forgotten is the slow and romantic rhythm, Jungkook has turned into a sex freak. The air is kicked out of your lungs, you can’t even moan anymore: your mouth hangs open. 

“You’re so good for me, baby” He praises you “You’re taking me so fucking good”

His words make you clench and you know that he has felt it because his hand squeezes yours equally. You’re completely high on sex, your skin is sweaty and your brain is fogged. The sinfulness of your clapping skins and the light growls — due to his physical efforts and your magic pussy — in your ears arouses you beyond words. You’ve never been fucked like this before and you don’t want it any other way from now on. 

“You like being fucked like that, uh?” He smirks 

“Yes, yes” You chant, your brain fogged with pleasure of his dick pounding into you 

“Perfect little girl is taking a big fat cock” He grunts and god, how sinful he sounds

“More, more!” You beg

Jungkook looks at you with a mix of awe and surprise — since he can’t believe how naughty his little cute roommate is — but he is happy to provide. 

He digs his knees strongly into the mattress and lifts up his upper body, enjoying the view of your tits bouncing at the same time, and makes sure to pound into your dripping cunt rougher. Your whiny moans are so lovely that even if he would love to drive Taehyung mad by making him hear them, he is selfish enough to want to keep them for him only. 

Your brows are furrowed and your swollen lips are parted to let the most beautiful melody fill the room. You look ethereal and Jungkook is afraid he is dreaming. That’s why, with apprehension, he gently caresses your cheek. But you’re real. You are truly under him, his dick is truly sliding inside you and fuck, the way you are creaming it is insane. 

Your hands desperately grab the sheets while his fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs to keep them against your chest. It allows him to get a better access to your pussy and fuck, he is pounding into you even harder. At this point, you don’t even know how he hasn’t broken the bed yet — or you. 

“Look at you” He coos as his dark eyes land where your bodies connect — he swears he could faint at his dick in your cunt “So fucking cute. ‘Could fuck this pussy forever” 

You wish. 

“I’m gonna come, Kook” You notify him 

The first orgasm he gave you was amazing but coming on Jungkook’s cock is a whole other level. Your cunt wants to clench but can’t because of his fat dick, which makes it even better. However, the pleasure is almost unbearable. Your hand instinctively finds his and you intertwine your fingers in a strange way as your digits are trapped between his palm and your thigh. 

“Cum for me, love. I want to feel you squeeze my cock” His voice is so deep that it sounds like a growl 

Your eyes shut down and your toes curl as Jungkook fucks you harder to help you reach your high. You have so much pleasure that a tear rolls down and witnessing it, the tattooed man goes insane. One of his hands finds your sensitive clit, drawing quick circles that make your body shake, and the other one squeezes your cheeks not so gently to help him capture your lips in a messy kiss. His sudden power over your body sends you on cloud nine and you cum so hard that you almost faint. You might scream a broken “Kook” but you’re not even sure and gosh, Jungkook doesn’t even slow down. 

He keeps fucking you hard and fast, overstimulating you — triggering a sob from you. 

“Fuck, you’re so hot” He groans before burying his face in your neck to focus on cumming too 

“Please, Kook, I can’t” You tell him as you’re feeling way too sensitive now 

He stops his ministrations on your poor clit and caresses your boob instead, trying to soothe you a bit, even kissing your throat. He prays you to hold on just a bit: the way your walls throb around his cock is delightful and he knows he is close too. You try to help him by running your hands in his sweaty black locks, bringing tenderness into this wild fuck — something that you don’t know how much Jungkook loves actually. 

He growls at the same time he releases his seeds in the condom. 

“Fuck, it was so good” He pants “You did perfectly, baby” 

He kisses your forehand and your heart squeezes out of how gentle he is. You just wish that this moment never stops. That’s why you hold him tighter when he initiates a move to scoot away. You wrap your arms around his neck, hide your face against his neck. You just don’t want him to leave you — both physically and emotionally. It’s so painful to imagine that it’s the last time you get to cuddle him that you can’t help your tears. 

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Jungkook asks, alarmed

“Please, just stay like that five more minutes” You beg

Your wish is granted and even more since Jungkook’s strong arms circle your body and hugs you tight. 

“Please don’t cry” His voice sounds hurt “I hate when you cry, baby”

Gosh, the pet name is not helping you to accept that this moment was actually one moment. 

“It’s just that I love you too much” You confess and your words make Jungkook lifts his head up to look at you 

He looks a bit confused because your tone sounds like an apology. 

“Is that bad?” He questions 

“No but it hurts. But it’s okay that you don’t feel the same” You try a weak smile despite your aching heart 

“I just made love to you, Y/N” He says, basically scolding you “I love you. I’ve fallen for you a long time ago” 

Your heart stops but this time it’s because you’re too happy to even believe it. You can’t stop yourself from hugging him again and Jungkook hugs you back, smiling wild in the crook of your neck. He settles sweet kisses and makes you both roll on the bed so you’re on top of him. It’s crazy with how much softness you’re looking at each other, grinning like two idiots in love — which you are to be honest. 

“Say it again” You ask

“I love you” 

“I love you too” You giggle and you swear you could fly right now 

“I have to do things right when we come back” Jungkook announces 

“What do you mean?” You frown 

“I have to take you on a date and do all the things cheesy couples do” 

He sounds oddly proud of it. 

“You want to be a cheesy couple?” You tease him

“First of all, we already are a cheesy couple” He kisses your nose, illustrating his point “Secondly, cheesy couples have the best weddings”

If you get to spend your life with such an amazing man, you’ll happily be the cheesiest couple ever. 

Taglist @gimeow @parapiop7 @mylyus-blog @knjjjk @namelesskeid @nesisrey @somehowukook @turn02 @ttanniett @whoa-jo @sncx3 @vsr4197 @lerasi @coralmusicblaze @mimi122880 @missmorningglory @thatgirliehan @daisiesarepretty7 @vkjmjjk @reallygenerouskoala @hoseokteardrop

So sorry that it took this long but I hope that you guys love it 🩷 If you do, please like and comment 🩷

#bts fanfic #bts #bts smut #fanfic #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jungkook smut #kpop smut #smut #방탄소년단 #전정국 #정국 #방탄소년단 정국 #margotw10 #margotw10bis

[highvern]

Talk

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x f!reader

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

warnings:  oral sex/face sitting/69, prone bone, dom/sub dynamics (dom!reader/sub!hoshi),  protected sex, impact play (spanking), mentions of butt stuff but nothing explicit

Length: ~ 4.3k

Note: this ended up way longer than i originally planned... by like 2k but im weak for sub hoshi. realized i accidentally made them schmidt and cece from new girl.... oh well. as always thank u @gyuswhore for suffering my horrible punctuation and EVERYONE HAS TO READ HER UP COMING HOSHI FIC FOR PIRATE HOSHI I DEMAND IT

series m.list: Houdini [s], Green Light [s, f], YUCK [f]

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

Soonyoung talks. A lot. 

Sometimes it makes no sense. Like the occasions he calls you after a night out and slurs his words through the speaker as you hum agreement to who knows what until he passes out while still on the line, letting you hear every snore and smack of his lips until you hang up; or when he’s inside you and it's all a bit too much that he has to tell you how good it feels in excruciating detail; or when you both wake up in the morning, you late for work and him trying to talk you into keeping the sheets warm for just a few more minutes, and Soonyoung thinks he’s convinced you but fifteen more minutes really won’t hurt because his apartment is closer to your office anyway.

He talks so much that not hearing his voice the second he opens the door is like a slap in the face.

There's no invitation inside, or lukewarm greeting. The door hangs ajar, Soonyoung already back down the hall in the direction of his room with the expectation you’ll follow. 

You do, but with the same hesitancy you’d approach a wild animal: curious and on edge.

Despite the hour, his roommates aren’t anywhere to be seen. No bodies sprawled across the couch or light under their doors. Their presence never stopped you before but it’s unsettling that there's no buffer of anything to break the storm cloud choking the atmosphere. Just stark exposure to whatever is clearly bothering Soonyoung that he won’t tell you about because, technically, you two don’t do that. Or, he does and you vehemently refuse all of it with less and less authenticity each time.

Soonyoung doesn’t prattle on about his day or ask about yours as you trail behind him. He throws off his shirt without a word, collapses on the edge of the mattress, and roughly pulls you into his lap. It’s cold and unfeeling and exactly the kind of sex you’d enthusiastically participate in a year ago. But nothing like the Soonyoung you’ve grown familiar with over the past few months.

He doesn’t comment on the low cut of your top, falling into the motions without the usual banter. 

You wiggle free from his grasp, trying to meet his gaze. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He doesn’t look at you before taking back up where he left off.

“Stop.” You push him back, trying to get a look at his face but he stays in the crook of your neck. “Stop.”

The silence that follows is loud. He collapses back into the bed, arms curling up to hide away from whatever is chasing him.

“I said I’m fine,” he mumbles.

“Could've fooled me,” you huff.

“Doesn’t matter. Not what you come here for anyway, right?”

A half truth that stings more than you’d like. It sinks in your gut in the quiet dark of his room.

“You know what? Forget I asked, I’m leaving.”

“Wait,” he says, arms attempting to snake around your waist but you’re already up.

“No. You don’t need to be an asshole when I’m just trying to be nice.”

“Because you’re sunshine and rainbows all the time?”

“Did I fucking say I was? If you’ve got a problem with it you’ve had long enough to lose my number.”

“I’m sorry, I just…” he sighs heavily. “Bad day.”

You soften at the break in his voice. Stepping back over, you stand between his legs. He looks small, hunched over with his head in his hands and the weight of the world on his shoulders. The light you’ve come to associate with having him within reach is gone and all that's left is a man you don’t really recognize. He buries his face in the warmth of your stomach, and goes limp as you run a hand across his shoulders.

“Do—” you clear your throat. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Because if Soonyoung is talking there's less chances for you to open your mouth and screw it all up. You don’t know how to be doughy and tender with the same level of ease he possesses. You’ll probably fail trying but it's the least you can do.

It’s uncharted territory; for you, for this, whatever this is because it doesn’t really resemble anything you’ve done before even though the foundation is the same. Because you care about Soonyoung, and he obviously cares about you. But you’re not sure how to let him and even less sure how to return it.

“No.” 

“Okay,” you say, at a loss for what comes next.

Inactivity breeds restlessness. Without any idea how to do this on your own, you default to the steps he took when you were half cooked on your bathroom floor.

Soonyoung eyes you with questions but doesn’t speak as you drag him into the en suite. Bites his tongue as you work off your clothes under the sterile overhead light and then move to work on his; raising his arms when you poke him and managing his pants on his own. He even smiles, or his mouth twitches in a vague allusion to a grin, when you flick water at him after guaranteeing the temperature won’t give you both pneumonia.

Finally tucked behind the shower curtain, he stands dumbly. Not another move to help, content to watch you wash his hair, nails raking over his scalp until he shivers. 

You ignore the prod at your thigh. Focused on letting the warmth of the water do the heavy lifting, you soak a washcloth in soap and lather his skin until it tinges pink. A shampoo mohawk earns a kiss dusted along your shoulders and you might even blush a bit if you weren’t so focused on perfecting the spikes so he looks like one of those 90s alternative poster boys.

Out of the shower, his vow of silence continues. Everything he isn’t saying is clear in his eyes, especially when you slather his face in one of those mud masks, painting him bright green. He’s less intimidating with chunks of clay in his eyebrows.

He isn’t accommodating but he also doesn’t outright refuse which seems to be the best you’re going to get. 

“You look like Shrek,” you snort, satisfied and turning towards the mirror to cover your own face in a matching shade.  

“Well then you're Fiona.” His head comes over your shoulder, chin digging into bare skin to watch you in the mirror. His chest is sticky against your back from steam but you don’t mind if it means he’ll talk to you.

“Actually,” you think, wiggling to face him. “I think you’re more like Donkey.” 

“The dragon fits you better anyway.”

“Are you calling me scary?” you gasp.

“Yes.”

“Good. Remember that next time you want me to suck on your balls.”

He winces. “I can feel them retreating into my body already.”

“Don’t make me laugh, it’ll mess up the mask.”

Without a care for the still drying mess of his face, he takes refuge back in his favorite place. Tucked under your chin, he sighs.

“I’m sorry I was a dick earlier. Work sucked today. I didn’t get a contract I wanted, they picked some other kid at the studio for it. I’ve taught him for years and they picked him over me.”

“I’m sorry.” You placate him with a gentle hand up his back, nails tracing loose patterns as the fan hums over head.

“Not your fault.”

“No, but it still sucks.”

“Yeah.” He nuzzles closer, arms heavy around your waist like you’d even think to move away. “It’ll be fine though. He’s a good kid and I couldn’t be mad at him. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

Fifteen minutes later, you both wash away the flakes of clay, cracked around the corners of your eyes and mouths, and retreat back under the covers in one set of pajamas split between: you in one of his shirts with nothing underneath, and him in sweatpants with nothing on top. 

Soonyoung insists that Pirates of the Caribbean is his comfort movie, something about Kiera Knightly with a gun being his sexual awakening (which explains a lot), and you let him put it on the tiny screen of his laptop with plans to fall asleep in the first five minutes.

His lips are at your temple, a dull pressure that makes your blood hum. “I always wanted to be a pirate growing up.”

“Really?” you ask, edging towards unconsciousness from the lazy drag of his fingers on your hip.

“Yeah,” he agrees, eyes glued to the screen. “Have my own ship, no rules, a bunch of sexy wenches.”

“Half naked women with scurvy were a part of your career plan?”

“Okay, maybe I added those just now but my point stands.”

The picture of Soonyoung with a scar on his chest and one of those ruffled linen shirts straight off the cover of a dime novel some grandma would read on the train with no shame isn’t that bad. Actually, it’s pretty sexy. But you won’t feed his delusions.

“What point?”

He rolls on top of you, face open with grave seriousness. “We should role play. Me as the hot pirate captain, you as the beautiful princess. Forbidden love, enemies type stuff. You run away from being royal and end up joining my crew. Oh no, Captain Hoshi, I had no idea this was your room! What an impressive sword!” he squeals in a breathy mock of you.

“And then,” you gasp. “you come in five minutes and I convince everyone to throw you overboard?”

“Hurtful. But I’m willing to forgive you if you call me captain. Just once.”

He’s close enough to kiss, lips pouted as he waits for you to give into his demand. A gentle peck bordering on domestic makes him sigh, the taste of toothpaste lingering on his breath. Just as you think you’ve distracted him away from such an ridiculous idea, he leans back with a gleam in his eye that says he’ll wait all night if you make him.

“How about we roleplay falling asleep?” you sigh, eyes closed against his expectant gaze.

“Nope, too late. I’m thinking about you wearing nothing but a pirate hat and now I’m hard.”

He curls right into the meat of your thigh, hot and ready to go if you give the word. Sleep is tempting but the thought of a quick tumble wakes you up enough to entertain him. 

“Alright, but you’re doing all the work,” you sigh. “Take off my clothes, captain.”

Pausing to let the idea settle, he shakes his head. “That’s actually not as hot as I thought it would be.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you fuff. “I’m watching the movie.”

You try to shove him away with zero intent to actually let him go anywhere and end up pinned, fingers in a tight grip around your wrists that you pretend to fight against. Soonyoung knows you like to be reminded of his strength on occasion; whether thats fucking your mouth until your throat burns or bending you over. This potentially being one since he’s had a hard day and you’re hungover from making him feel better about it. 

He tongues across your pulse until you go pliant against the pillows, legs spread to cradle his hips. A shuffle of clothes and a lift of your hips and he’d be inside you. There's more steps; a condom, a little fingering because his dick was made to stretch your limits. Your legs shake already, desperate for quick fuck so you can passout while Soonyoung cleans you up. 

But his new mood means he’s making up for lost time. Presently, that's bunching your shirt up to your chin and tracing each inch of newly uncovered skin with his tongue.

“Hellooooo ladies,” he sighs, nose buried between your breasts.

“God, you’re lame.”

“Be nice to me, I had a hard day,” he pouts, releasing your hands in favor of plucking at your chest until you sigh in delight.

“I’m literally letting you—hmmm— see my boobs after you said that corny shit. How much nicer can I be?”

He doesn’t answer, choosing to coax a low groan out of your chest with passes of his mouth until you're kicking the sheets. The good kind of sting that ruts your hips against his thigh and makes you dizzy. There will be a permanent wet patch if he doesn’t give you relief soon.

“I have a few ideas.”

“Like what?” You twitch at the thoughts running rampant. Short of donning that pirate hat mentioned earlier, anything he suggests is guaranteed to make you feel better too. 

“Can show you better than I can tell you,” he bites into your nipple, sucking it to a stiff peak for his fingers to pinch before shifting focus to the other. 

“If you try and put your dick in my ass I’ll rip it off.” The words are breathy off your lips. No real threat because he might be able to talk you into the idea if you let him. If he keeps pulling your strings the way he’s learned how. 

But Soonyoung has different ideas, pulling off your nipple with a rough suck, curling your shoulders in. “That was one time and it was an accident!”

“Let me slip a finger in next time I blow you and tell me how you like it.”

“You have and I do. Keep talking about it and I’m gonna need another shower.”

“God, you’re a freak.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” He takes the initiative to roll you on top, palms massaging your ass while enjoying the view of you naked in his lap. 

A sudden moment of vulnerability roots in your chest, warmed by the set of brown eyes peering up at you. “You know I don’t just come here for this, right?” 

Soonyoung’s eyebrows twist for a moment and then soften. “I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s fine,” you cut him off, not ready for anything deeper. The air is already thicker with the weight of that confession, suffocating. In an effort not to drown in it, you drop your chest flat to his, latching onto the jut of his collarbone. “Is this your big idea? Me on top? Not very original.”

A hand at your ass drags you along his covered cock, already begging for attention. It’s not original but you’ll dry hump him into the mattress until your bones are jelly if he wants. 

“Sit on my face.”

It’s your turn to pull back. “What?”

“Sit. On. My. Face.” His hand is already firm against your thighs, forcing you halfway up his chest before you can argue.

“I heard you the first time, just confused how that's supposed to make you feel better.”

“You underestimate the power of your pussy. Now get up here.” 

The shuffle up is less than sexy. Soonyoung is eager from your permission, rushing you up to his mouth until you nearly knee him in the head.

“Wait,” you say. 

Soonyoung locks his arms as you move off him, reflexive because he lets go a second later. Turning, you eye the tent in his pants as you kneel back down. Perfect position to touch him while he touches you.

“Oh, fuck,” he grunts, fingers tracing through your wetness despite the horrible angle.

You don’t get a chance to orient yourself. He’s already quick to work with teasing passes of his tongue that turn bolder every second. 

“Jesus Christ, give me a second to get your dick out.”

But he doesn’t; too consumed with tasting all you have to offer, wringing you out to dry the second he gets a chance. The flat of his tongue laps up your arousal like it’s more vital than oxygen. There's a wet mess smeared between your thighs from the vigor. 

It takes all your focus to force down his pants, mouth watering at the shiny head of his cock straining from some heavy petting. You keep steady with one hand, jerking him off into your mouth with the other. Soonyoung malfunctions between your thighs as you swallow his cock, a moan right to your clit makes you fumble that last inch into your mouth.

He chokes you with a buck up but you take it in stride. Sucking harder, lashing against the slit until he whimpers. Normally, you’d exaggerate the wet noises at the back of your throat but with the crude dig of his tongue in your entrance there's no need. 

“God,” you warble into his crotch. You arch back into his face, Soonyoung’s fingers digging into the meat of your ass, spreading you out like a full course meal.

In theory it’s hot. Your cunt on his face and his cock in your throat, rutting against each other until you're numb and twitching and covered in each other's mess. In practicality, there is nothing Soonyoung is more relentlessly dedicated to than eating you out until your vision turns white and you have to force him away or risk passing out. It only takes a few minutes before you’re forced to tap out, panting into his thigh and weakly fisting his length with no regard for the mess sticking between your knuckles, as he fucks you along his tongue.

“Gonna come, oh–fuck,” you choke. You want him to come too, in your mouth, on your face if that's what he wants. But by some glitch in the universe, Soonyoung is able to hold back and you’re the one racing to the finish first. “Oh my god, Soonyoung, fuck.”

You jerk him off, grip tight despite the slick mess of spit and pre-cum. It doesn’t help that ever squeeze at the swollen head sends a moan straight into your clit, forcing you hips to rut desperately. 

“Don’t stop. Just, shit – need a little more—”

You pull one his hands away to take over your short strokes, spitting into his palm and squeezing until he figures out what you want; to watch him touch himself while eating you out. The contrast of his fingers tangled between your own, both glistening because Soonyoung is just as close as you are, gets you there.

“Close.” Thighs locked, you suffocate him but Soonyoung doesn’t complain. A palm at the base of your spine forces you down when you shy away from the edge. “Oh, oh, oh!”

A sting of your nails into his thigh is all the warning either of you get. Back arched tight, eyes clenched, you shudder through it. Soonyoung doesn’t stop, sucking away the fresh wave of arousal, tongue verging on punishing against your clit as you sink.

“Okay, that's enough—god,” your voice breaks. “Enough.”

You fall to the side, face first into the covers without effort to soften the blow. The lower half of your body is numb but you can feel his hand skating up the back of your calf.

“Good?” he asks, all too aware of the issue; the smirk is clear in his tone, happy to see you strung out from a few minutes on his mouth.

“Shut up,” you warn but the bite isn’t in it. The urge to kick him in the head is there but none of the energy. 

“Are you tapping out on me or…?” 

The sound of the drawer pauses in case you say no but the idea of not feeling him inside you sounds like the worst thing you’ve ever heard.

“You’re not that good,” you mumble into the blanket. “Fuck me like this, you promised you’d do all the work. Remember?”

“Like this?” he hums, rubbing the head of his cock back through the mess with admiration. 

He obeys with a wet kiss to your shoulder, parting your legs and sliding between without a word. You soak in the stretch, ass arched into his hips to take it all. The cold bites down your back when Soonyoung leans back to watch.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he whines. “Shit.” 

He drives into you with a bruising pace, betrayed by his own need to come after having you on his mouth without a tease of relief. You arch into it, the head of his cock dragging deep inside pushing disgusting noises from your lips you pray his roommates aren’t around to hear.

“Spank me.”

He loses it for a second. A rough thrust pushing you down the bed and he scrambles to follow. “Seriously?” 

“Do it,” you bark. 

The first strike is weak. More of a firm caress than the sting you crave; hesitant to push for too much too fast lest you take away any privilege he has.

“Harder.”

The next impact comes hard enough to burn an outline of his hand. And another one that makes your tongue feel too big for your own mouth.

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” you whine. “More.”

Arms pinned beneath your torso, all you can do is lay there and take it. Nerves gone, he spanks you like it’s second nature. Like he’s thought about it before.

“Good?” he asks. Sounds more like a beg for validation. That he’s the one driving you crazy, molding your insides to his cock until it’s all you can think about.

“So good, f–fuck me so good.”

“Yeah?” he breathes against your neck, a hand wedging beneath your hips to drag against your clit in messy strokes. “You’re so hot, fuck.”

There will be a bruise to hide come morning but you can’t care. The slap of his hips against your ass, the flame of his hand still lingering on your ass, his cock drilling your insides; there's no room for anything but Soonyoung, Soonyoung, Soonyoung.

You arch your back to feel him deeper only to have him pull out completely on the next stroke.

“No!” you protest, racing to keep him inside. 

It’s no use, Soonyoung flips you on your back before you can convince him otherwise. He hooks your knees over his elbows, spreading you wide and driving home in one smooth push with his teeth at your neck.

“Gonna come,” he begs, voice weak. You know his game, what makes him tick and come so hard he goes blind.

“Not yet,” you warn. A rough twist in his hair only works against his thinning resolve and that's exactly why you pull harder until his hips kick into a jilted rhythm.

“I can’t – please – I can’t—”

“Not yet,” you gasp. He’s deep, right in the back of your throat making you foggy. “Be a g–good boy and wait until I tell you.”

Hips frantic, voice cracking, he tries to hold off; knows it's better when you tell him exactly what to do. Makes him choke into your chest.“Fuck, fuck!” 

“Tell me how bad you want it. How much you love this pussy.”

“Love it, love your pussy.” He folds in half on top of you, desperate. Every drive of his cock into your center forcing your own desperate noises out. “Please let me come for you.”

“Look at me,” you demand. The command in your voice is paper thin but you're both too lost. His eyes are glassy, frantic to do whatever you ask if it means he can come. “Beg for it.”

“P–please,” he whimpers through gritted teeth. “Please let me come. Need it, wanna come. Please. Please!”

He’s too good to edge. Perfectly pliant to any demand and it makes you want to give him whatever he wants. “Give it to me. Fuck me through it. Let me feel you come for me.”

He latches onto your breast, sucking your nipple as his hips turn sloppy. The squeak of mattress springs are a sound track to his end. You won’t come again but you don’t need to. Satiated with the choked whimpers of your name as he swells against your walls, forcing himself as deep as possible like he’s fucking you raw and full of his cum.

Maybe someday you’ll let him.

Your hips are sore from being forced in half so long but you won’t move away until Soonyoung comes back down. Less from your own will power, more because you’re running on fumes and might fall asleep with him still inside you. He gives a few more pathetic twitches and then goes slack.

“Oh my god,” he groans. “I can’t feel my legs.”

“Welcome to the club,” 

With the grand finale complete, your aching muscles give out completely. You can’t even laugh when one of his hands moves to check your pulse.

“Oh my god,” Soonyoung gasps. “I killed you with my dick.”

“You didn’t kill me.” You slap away his hand weakly. Without distraction, the stickiness of your skin from sweat in the worst places settles in but it’s a problem for later.

“A man can dream,” he says wistfully.

“Of homicide by cock?”

“Of dick game strong enough to murder someone.”

He rubs his nose along yours, breathes mingling in a lazy kiss as exhaustion creeps over your both. 

“Your face smells like pussy.” You slouch into the mattress, deadweight while taking all of his like the perfect blanket.

He kisses you again, tongue teasing at your lips until you give the very real threat of teeth against it and he backs away. “Your mouth tastes like cock so I guess we’re even. C'mon we need to shower again.”

“Nooooooo,” you grumble, clinging to him in an effort to delay the chill waiting to invade between you.

“At least let me get a rag.”

Your legs tighten around his waist, locked at the ankle for dramatic effect. “If you pull out I’ll cry.”

“Words every man wants to hear,” he hums into your cheek with a kiss. “But my dick is sore and we both need to sleep.”

“Fine.”

When he pulls away you feel empty; devastatingly so. But you don’t ask him to comeback. Just pout at the loss and revel in placating pampering you receive in return.

He goes through the steps with familiarity. Wiping away the mess between your legs, tossing your shirt back up from the floor but you forgo it, choosing to sleep naked much to Soonyoung’s delight.

You use his chest as a pillow, curled into his side and tucked under his chin. The steady beat of his heart lulls you off. The last thing you register, on the hazy perimeter at the edge of sleep, is his fingers at your cheek and the ghost of a kiss on your forehead.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie

@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire

@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi @writingbarnes

@dokyeomkyeom @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @idkjustlovingbts @wobblewobble822 @futuristicenemychaos

@seungkw1 @horanghaezone @jespecially @gyuwoosbabie @dinossaurz

@wonustars

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

#svthub #ksmutsociety #kvanity #kwon soonyoung #hoshi #kwon soonyoung smut #hoshi smut #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #svt x reader #soonyoung x reader #hoshi x reader #svt #svt smut #seventeen #seventeen hoshi #hoshi flufff #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #soonyoung fluff #kwon soonyoung fluff #hoshi angst #soonyoung angst #kwon soongyoung angst #svt angst #seventeen angst #🫡 highvern

[pixiecapsalt]

Here’s a translation of what Bagi said at the end of her stream.

Bagi: I really wanted to say that QSMP was an opportunity I’ve never had before in my life. Because I impeded myself from taking those opportunities, in the sense of communicating with other creators from countries. When I was a kid I learned and practiced a little bit of English but I never practiced after leaving school because I never had the opportunity and I ended up accepting that I’d never go back to speaking in English because I didn’t practice and if I needed to do it then I’d be shit because I wouldn’t be able to communicate. So when Cellbit spoke to me saying, “Look we really want you to participate in QSMP with us.” I said, “Dude, my communication with people from other countries is going to be very difficult.” And there he said, “You don’t need to worry the translator works really well.” And honestly the translator worked really well because it allowed me to not just communicate with people from various countries, in my own native language, but also allowed me to learn words & terms in other languages.

And I think that I learned a lot culturally speaking because various people from various countries could share their cultures. Which to me is something that is more valuable than anything else. We consume a lot from our own culture and what we see on TV but actually co existing with people from different cultures every day for various hours a day was very cool for learning many new things. I think that QSMP was an experience that wasn’t just very fun but for me, as a player, was an experience that changed my life. Because now I have friends from various parts of the world, I have various people who I met personally who I love, and various more that I still want to meet and be able to do many things together. We lived many cool moments and even if they were characters we were playing, as if they were small scripts we were playing, even then we still lived emotions that were very real. We lived through suffering together, happiness together, and much more. We shared many cool emotions together and so that created a great relationship between the content creators.

From getting along and starting to directly interact on the server to, for instance, people accompanying me late nights while I dug a whole, that refers to the players as much as it does to the administrators as well who’d stay up late digging the hole and updating twitter, doing many things with me. When I only wanted to log on the server, do Lucky Ducks, dig my whole, there was always people to participate and do things with me. And so it was always a lot of fun and it was always people from various places. (…) Because I already knew Cellbit and Felps for a long time but getting close to Pac and Mike was very crazy and it was very fun. The entire experience was very fun. And that’s it.

I think what I’m most grateful for about the QSMP was all the people that connected us. All the people who participated and permitted us to create genuine connections during the game. Because it’s only a game but at the same time everyone who is participating are real people with real feelings who share real things, you know? So it was very cool. I met many fun people who were very cool to spend all this time with. Not just the creators but the team. Everyone. So it was very cool. Very cool.

And I think that the most important thing of all is that you live through experiences in your life with various people and experiences come and go but the mark you leave on people and the mark they leave on your life is permanent. And so experiences come and go, people come and go, but the mark people leave is permanent. The mark that all these creators, all the team, all the actors of QSMP as well, of the eggs, of the characters, left a permanent mark on me that I’ll never forget because it was very cool. I hope still to find the creators, live many fun things with them still, and that’s it. I think I’ve participated in many cool things, I’ve done many cool things in my career and QSMP definitely was one of them. I have many good memories created with the server and people who participated with me. It was very very very fun.

(Bagi also said she wants to have a chat with Elena one day to discuss what she said about the Rebels with Walter Bob there as well)

if i made any typos no i didnt goodbye.

#bagi #qsmp

[xxlovelynovaxx]

Y'know, there are a lot of people in my communities offline and online that... I'd cook for, help clean their house, help them move, share their fundraisers, give them rides to an appointment when I had access to a vehicle, donate to them if I could... who I also wouldn't willingly share casual spaces with, wouldn't tolerate their harmful behavior in a support group (though, if I were leading it, would issue repeat private verbal warnings before taking any action, and even divide into multiple sessions to still offer both the people they're hurting and them the support needed), and so on.

That's what I mean a lot of the times when saying "I won't allow unsafe people in my communities". It's not "I'll violently expel and ostracize (and encourage others to do so) those doing significant harm who are themselves marginalized". It's "I will take steps to reduce the harm being done while not doing further harm in doing so". It's "I recognize that identity does not make you inherently safe, so I focus on actual harm rather than who is doing it, and that also means I'm careful not to just end up displacing the harm by doing it myself".

Of course, I'm not perfect. If someone who is marginalized themself is openly reveling in and bragging about bullying and hurting others, and then turning around and claiming that objectively harmless behaviors from their victims are actually harming them, in essence playing the victim outside of situations where they actually are the victim... yeah, at a certain point I'll become reactive, especially if we are both marginalized on the axis of gender but they have power over me or others on another axis (race, intersex identity, disability, etc).

That's just abuser behavior, and as much as I try as much as possible to never be reactive, I also have grace for myself reacting imperfectly as a trauma and abuse survivor. Hell, this is why I DON'T want to be in a position of being the person in charge of these things that has the power to push people out on my own. I'd much rather have plenty of people to be able to de-escalate when someone HAS become reactive, while addressing the initial harmful behavior separately.

Idk this is just some ramblings on my personal philosophy but like. Community building does mean practicing harm reduction but that also means leaving space for people to mess up and do harm and struggle or even refuse to unlearn shit without being tossed out on their ass in the cold because, well, this is especially true given most of the time they don't have alternative spaces they CAN access when marginalized so it's kinda a case of "each other's all we've got".

And yes there's "don't tolerate intolerance" ofc but it's also "it's more effective to deradicalize someone and especially to do so in ways that are compassionate and understanding than to just isolate them and drive them further into hate" and also "sometimes the harm is directly tied to something like trauma or a disability in a way that can't immediately be changed and then it's on the community rather than the individual to find a solution that reduces the most harm possible without punishing someone for symptoms that they legitimately are struggling to or can't control".

Basically, there's ✨nuance!✨

And like this is all gonna be different too depending on the type of harm and what social dynamics are at play. You handle bigotry/oppression differently than you handle lateral aggression differently than you handle mixed cases (such as transintermisia from a perisex trans person) differently than you handle any other number of cases of harm.

Idk I just care more about being effective than being right. And I know I revert into injured animal snarling a lot on here but tbf I'm also NOT actively engaging in community building or w/e on my 250 follower blog with max 20 followers active at any given time. I do also think it's important to have injured animals spaces too and maybe this isn't the best one but rn it works okay as mine.

So... yeah. Complicated thoughts on a complicated subject.

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | teen | 1.2k | tags: first date, first kiss, very slight angst | written for the stwg daily prompt kiss in the rain)

Today has to be perfect, Eddie vows as he parks his van in the Harrington's driveway.

Because today Eddie is taking Steve out on their first date.

Frankly, he has no idea how he managed to get a date with the Steve Harrington. Even more, he has no idea how someone as beautiful and kind and sweet and funny as Steve would want to go out with someone like him.

It certainly helps that they saved the world together and share many, many traumas, as well as some horrible scars that tell the story of everything they've been through.

Eddie wants to believe that's not all that binds them, that the months they've spent growing closer over shared custody of Steve's six nuggets, movie nights, and long hours spent smoking and talking on top of the Munsons' new trailer have a lot to do with it, too.

But Eddie also knows that the Eddie of a year ago would have scoffed at the idea of going out with King Steve. Just like that Steve wouldn't have gone out with the town freak.

Which is why Eddie needs today to be a success.

Today has to be perfect.

As he rings the bell, his heart beats wildly in his chest and sweat forms on his palms.

Steve answers the door with a smile that makes Eddie's knees weak. "Hey," he says, and Eddie's mind blanks for a moment. Steve's wearing those jeans, the ones that look like they're painted on, showing off his legs and...other parts. And he has them paired with a striped polo shirt that is not supposed to look as good as it does.

"Hey," Eddie replies, finally finding his voice. "You ready for a day full of adventure?"

Steve grins and nods, stepping out and closing the door behind him. "Lead the way. As long as there are no monsters to fight, I'm game."

Eddie's plan is simple: a picnic in an empty field he found a few weeks ago, but first some good old-fashioned ball throwing to indulge Steve's love of sports. It's no secret that Eddie hates sports, but he's willing to make an exception for Steve. He often feels that Steve is the one indulging the kids, Robin, or even himself, because except for Lucas, none of their friends enjoy sports, either playing or watching.

So Eddie wants to show Steve that his hobbies and interests are important too, and that Eddie can try to be as involved in them as Steve is in his.

They drive to the field with music blasting, a mix tape that Eddie has made especially for this occasion, a perfect blend of his and Steve's taste in music, and he feels a little more at ease as Steve sings along, off-key and carefree. When "Somebody To Love" comes on, Steve playfully nudges him with his elbow and Eddie joins him as they both sing along, grinning broadly.

"Did you bring me here to murder me and get rid of the body, Munson?" Steve jokes at the sight of the empty field and Eddie lets out a theatrical cackle.

"Afraid I'm going to have my way with you, Harrington?"

Heat pools in his stomach at the smile Steve gives him in response.

"Don't threaten me with a good time."

Deciding on a hasty retreat before he does something embarrassing like whimper, Eddie climbs out of the van and goes to the back, pulling out an old baseball and a pair of gloves.

"Thought we could start with this," Eddie says, holding up the ball to Steve, who has followed him to the back of the van.

Steve's eyes light up at the sight. "You remembered."

As if Eddie could ever forget all the secrets and stories Steve had shared with him, while the stars above them were the only witnesses to some of the best moments of Eddie's life.

Steve had told him how he had always loved baseball as a little boy, and how his father had sometimes taken him to games. Looking back, Steve said he probably loved his father's attention and time more than the sport itself, but for whatever reason, it had been his first great love. He collected all the cards and knew everything there was to know about stats and players and rules. All he wanted was to be a player.

When he tried out at school, he didn't make the team. It was only years later that Steve found out why he had trouble hitting the ball with his bat: he had impaired vision, something his parents never bothered with, so he was never examined. At the time, he believed it was because he wasn't good enough, a failure. His dad seemed to think the same thing, because after he didn't make the team, he never took Steve to games again.

Steve hadn't played since, so Eddie figured it was time to help Steve have some good memories of baseball again.

Eddie shrugs, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, figured you'd like it."

They toss the ball back and forth, Steve coaching Eddie on his form, laughing when Eddie fumbles a catch. They're both having fun, and Eddie starts to relax, thinking maybe this date won't be a disaster after all.

But then Eddie misjudges a throw, and the ball smacks him right on the forehead. He stumbles back, more surprised than hurt, but his confidence takes a hit.

"Shit, Eddie, you okay?" Steve rushes over, concern etched on his face.

Eddie laughs it off, though his heart sinks. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just my luck, huh?"

Steve looks relieved but still worried. "Maybe we should take a break."

Eddie nods, feeling like he's already ruined things. He wonders why he thought it was a good idea to throw a ball with an ex-jock when he failed gym class more than once. So much for giving Steve a good baseball memory.

Still, he trudges over to the van to get everything they need for the picnic he has planned. The delighted smile on Steve's face at the sight of the basket and the blanket under Eddie's arm makes him think that maybe all is not lost. But just as he spreads out the blanket and unloads the food he's prepared, he glances up at the sky and sees dark clouds gathering. Still, he clings to the hope that they can finish before the rain comes.

Eddie should have known better. Luck and he have only been acquaintances at the best of times.

Just as they're settling in, the first raindrop falls, then another, and within seconds, it's pouring.

Eddie's heart sinks. This day was supposed to be perfect, and now it's a mess. "I'm so sorry, Steve. This was supposed to be perfect and now —"

Steve cuts him off with a bright laugh, his hair plastered to his forehead, rain running down his face. "Eddie, it's fine. Really."

Eddie looks at him, confused. "But the rain, and the ball, and—"

Steve steps closer, cupping Eddie's face in his hands. "I don't care about any of that. I care about you. You did so much for me today, Eddie." And before Eddie can respond, Steve kisses him.

It's a soft, lingering kiss that makes Eddie forget about the rain, the ball, and everything else. When they pull apart, Steve's smiling. "This is perfect, Eddie."

Eddie laughs, feeling lighter than he has all day. "Yeah, it kinda is."

As they pack up the picnic in the pouring rain, Eddie realizes that maybe perfection isn't about everything going right. Maybe it's about finding the right moments, even in the midst of chaos, with the right person.

#steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie drabble #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson #steve harrington #stwgdailyprompt #my writing

[bloobharry]

How’s your head? H.S

She never thought she’d be into something like this.

Something which reduced her to such a filthy, whiney mess.

That too from her best friend.

Or,

Harry is Y/N’s best friend, and he just wants the best for her.

Content warning: mature content.

Word count: 3.8K

When Y/N told Harry she wanted to hang out with him Friday afternoon, she didn’t quite think it would end up like this.

The original plan was to essentially do nothing all night. After a long, tiring week at work, nothing satisfied Y/N more than lazing around on her couch and snacking on all the chocolate sitting in her pantry she had been fantasising about having while at her desk. It was always nice to have someone do these things with you, though, where both parties could lie in silence, munch on snacks and glue their eyes to the television to forget everything that happened in the past workdays.

Y/N quickly realised Harry was the perfect person for this. He didn’t have much going on for him either so there was no reason why he would turn down a night of gorging Y/N’s pantry and flopping over her hunched body on the sofa so they could watch whatever show she was recently obsessing over.

And that was how the night started.

Harry came over at about 7, with a pizza for takeaway and a large soda, and claimed the furthest right corner of the couch, snuggled up with Y/N’s cat Lola. While Lola took her time sniffing Harry’s fingers and tentatively licking his knuckles, Y/N warmed up some popcorn and ruffled Harry’s hair as she walked past him to her spot on the other end of the sofa. “Heeeeeey,” he began, a furrow in his brows, “you can’t just do that. I put a lot of work into making it look this good.” Y/N rolled her eyes, “if it looks like that after all the work I’m afraid you’re not doing enough, Harry.” He didn’t say anything, only scoffed and shoved her legs slightly from where she had swung them on his lap, “you need to pull that stick out of your ass. Let off some steam or something.”

“Right and do you want to volunteer as my punching bag?” She retorted. She wasn’t really trying to be mean, a teasing grin on her lips when he feigned offence once more, “that’s not what I meant. There are other ways to release tension, you know,” he said.

“Harry, if you want me to drop-kick you, just say i—“

“What I want is for you to go out and get a good dicking so you can stop being such a menace to me.”

“I’m not being a menace, this is just how I am. I thought you’d know that by now.” Y/N’s eyes widen, looking at him like she can’t believe he hadn’t realised her quip-y and teasing comments have been entirely satire. “Menace or not, it doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been on edge lately and could go for an orgasm not brought to you by your vibrator.”

“Harry!”

”What? I’m just saying,” he said through a smirk. Y/N’s eyes narrow at his dishevelled sight, his hair just touching his collarbones and his black sweater swallowing him whole. “My orgasms are perfectly fine, thank you. And my vibrator does a very good job at helping me ‘let off steam’.”

He sighs, almost mockingly. “When’s the last time you got laid?”

“Why would I tell you?”

”Because I’m your friend. I promise I’m just trying to help,” he says sincerely. The dim lighting of the living room made his eyes sparkle and Y/N avoided eye contact by fiddling with her fingers.

God, there was just something about the fucker that made a person want to spill every secret before his jade gaze. “I dunno. Maybe five, six months?”

“Jesus Christ Y/N, what the fuck? Weren’t you seeing Daniel like 3 weeks ago?” His voice goes up a few octaves, looking at her all bewildered. “It’s Danny,” she corrected him, “and I stopped texting him a while back. He was a bore in real life and quite frankly, a bore in bed.” Danny was one of Y/N’s coworkers' brothers who she had tried setting her up with, and Y/N did have some fun with him at first. It was always nice having someone to flirt with back and forth and get compliments from every now and then but he just never scratched that itch for Y/N. She ended up ghosting him 2 dates in and she knows that's a dick move, but really a second more of listening to him go on and on about his mum and how much his new PC game cost would make Y/N want to gauge out her own eyeballs with a dinner fork.

“Did he ever get you off?” Harry asked. Y/N was incredibly appalled, not appreciating his prying hands all over her sex life. Or lack thereof. “No and that’s none of your business anyway, jeez.”

“There you go again, snapping at me. You know if you’ll ask me nicely I’ll stop.” He sat up against the arm rest, fingers grazing her bare leg from when he pulled it back on his lap. Y/N knew she could ask him to stop asking her all these questions and he would, but was it really a conversation with her if she wasn’t being at least a little bit hard to read?

Besides, maybe it would do her some good talking about it and whatever advice he had might actually help her out. Harry seemed to be more than well-equipped when it came to charming the heck out of someone and working his way into their pants. “Sorry,” she sighed, rubbing her eye, “no, he didn’t get me off. We never actually had sex, I just gave him a blowie once and he tried to go down on me.”

Harry smiled softly knowing he got her to crack and squeezed her calf, “tried?” He knew he was treading on dangerous waters here, wedging his fingers between Y/N’s brain and asking her to recall her time with Danny.

“Yes, tried. It was fucking awful.”

She didn’t meet his eyes, busying herself with the strings on her hoodie, “and he definitely came in your mouth?” Y/N’s cheeks went pink, and she quickly pulled her legs away from him, “Harry!” Her voice was high pitched and defensive, and while her mind told her that maybe confiding all this in Harry isn’t the smartest thing, her heart wanted to see where an odd conversation like this could lead.

“I’m just asking!”

She hesitated, narrowing her eyes. “Yeah.”

“Well fuck, Y/N, sorry to say it but you were seeing an absolute douche.” Harry makes this diagnosis like Y/N didn’t already know, his fingers reaching for her legs again, tugging them onto his thighs with a strength that made her tummy flip. He ran a hand through his unruly hair. “I know. It was fun but I didn’t want anything more with him.”

“Good. But you still need a good fuck. One where you actually get to come and don’t come back home all high and dry.”

Y/N gasps, trying to get off him again but Harry holds her down, laughing at her bright red embarrassed face, “you’re such a dick I hate you.”

His dimples dug deep into the soft of his cheeks, and he pulled her legs so she was sitting much closer to him. Her ass touched the edge of his thighs and she could feel the warmth radiating off of him, making her skin even hotter. Y/N remained frowning, shoving his chest when he wouldn’t stop giggling, “stop laughing, Harry!” For obvious reasons that doesn’t work and the little genuine crink in her eyebrows had him almost cooing and smiling wide at the same time. When she didn’t let up the frown and tried to move back to her spot, Harry only grabbed her hips and pulled her back, close enough that her ass was now on top of his thighs, “okay, okay I’m sorry. You’ve got a really funny angry face.”

Y/N was near seething at this point, gearing up for an attack, “I’ll show you an angry face,” she tried lunging for his hair again but very quickly realised she failed to take into consideration her position when he instantly caught her wrists in between his long fingers, holding them tight but not enough to hurt her, “okay, John Cena let’s take a breather.”

God, was he able to make her skin absolutely crawl at times. He was still holding her wrists when he brought them down, watching her blazingly. She didn’t realise how far she had shuffled into his lap and how close his face was to hers until now. Until she could smell the strawberry mints he was sucking on on his breath.

She made a half-hearted attempt to smack his chest, but his hold only tightened around her, suddenly dragging her even closer to him over the soft fabric of his sweats. Y/N held her breath. He was too close to her, his nose daring to touch hers. She’d never been in such a vulnerable position with him and she might possibly just faint if he didn’t stop staring at her mouth and then her eyes, flicking his gaze between the two like he couldn’t decide where to settle.

She moved her head back, trying to create some space between the pair, “what are you doing Harry.” The sound she makes is an odd one— one that she doesn’t make often and it’s desperate and needy, akin to a weepy whine. His fingers finally loosened enough for her to break free and she quickly moved her face away from his where it seems like it was magnetically pulling her closer and closer.

Harry didn’t say anything for a while and Y/N found herself frozen in her spot, still right on his lap. “What’s going on here, hmm?” He said, glancing down.

Y/N followed his gaze, confused at first and it took her a moment to realise what he was insinuating. His fingers grazed her hips. “What’s got you all squirmy on my lap?”

He was still staring right into her eyes, making her go crazy with the stolen glances at her lips with every passing second. Meanwhile Y/N’s chest heaved and she unintentionally shuffles again, “fuck, Y/N.” Harry’s voice was deep and groan-y, vibrating through her body when his eyebrows furrowed slightly. “I’m not squirmy, Harry shut up.” She was lying right to his face and her poor attempt at covering her actions made him laugh again. The sound was teasing, nothing like the light-hearted giggles spilling from his lips when he found her angry face amusing.

“You’re a terrible liar, Y/N.” His fingers fell to her upper thighs, which he gripped harshly. Only then when she couldn’t move did Y/N realise she really was practically rubbing herself against him, milking even the slightest pressure against her heat from his warm, pliant lap. Her face pinkened again, embarrassment coursing through her veins and making her want to dig a hole and hide in it forever. She couldn’t believe what she had just been caught doing.

Y/N expected him to fully push her off his lap, disgusted by her basically humping his leg, but he didn’t.

Instead, he dug his fingers into her skin and slowly helped her move back and forth, pushing her down just slightly to give her the friction she was searching for. Y/N’s mouth dropped open in another little whine.

“Will you let me, then?” His eyes searched hers, gaze sincere, though Y/N didn’t know what he was implying, only half listening to him. She was clearly preoccupied with the delicious pressure pressing right up against her clothed clit.

“What?”

Harry laughed, a large, ringed hand slipping over her ass to squeeze lightly. “I said, will you let me make you feel good? Help you relax? Have you gone dumb already, baby?” Y/N couldn’t really do much other than nod frantically, afraid he might pull away if she didn’t say yes. The pet name melts her even further, paired with the way he was holding her like he was going to swallow her whole made her insides slosh.

She preens under his gaze, now holding the front of his sweater tightly between her fingers. “Yes,” Y/N breathed, “yes please.”

Harry wondered for a second if she was agreeing to being cockdumb or agreeing to him touching her but nonetheless he took it as his queue to push her off his lap and position her the way he wanted.

“I—what, I thought you we—“ Y/N protests, neediness evident in her voice and her hands which chased after his warmth, like she was afraid he was going to leave her be in this desperate state. Harry only pressed on her shoulder until she laid back on her back, hands coming to part her legs so he could fit between them, “shh.” A wet kiss was pressed to her cheek, like comforting a rabid animal, which Y/N was feeling exactly like as she stared at Harry’s frame cowering hers.

His curls hung past his ears and tickled her face when he slotted his hips between her legs so she could continue grinding down on him, “who knew you were such a needy little thing?” Y/N sighed in response. Another suckling kiss was pressed to her jaw, “do you need me to make you feel good, baby? Hmm? Need me to make it better?”

The way he was talking to her made her feral.

She had trouble believing this was the same Harry who irritated her to no end and pushed all her buttons to rile her up. Except this time he was pushing other kinds of buttons, moving his body around hers so perfectly Y/N wondered if this was like second nature to him.

“Yes. Please don’t tease me.” She commanded him and Harry chuckled at her desperation, lips sponging these warm, slow, gooey kisses down her neck and across her collarbone. When she went to sift her fingers through his curly hair, he pulled back to look at her. “You’re so bossy,” he accuses, pulling her thighs further up his hips, “it’s okay though. I’ll fuck the attitude right of you.” He grinded down against her, one strong roll of his bulge against her heat. “Are we going to have sex, Harry?”

“No.” He grinned.

“Why?” Y/N’s eyes crinkled in pain like he just told her her cat died and her lip jutted out in a pout which Harry quickly tucked away with his thumb. “Because,” he started, using that same hand to wrap around her throat, “we need to talk about that before we do anything. Don’t want to lose my best friend, do I?”

His rejection almost made Y/N cry and she would have had Harry not tightened his hand around her jugular. The cold press of his rings sent shivers down Y/N’s spine. “Why would you say anything then?” She asked, craning her neck to allow him more room to cover with his palm.

“I said I won’t have sex with you. Didn’t say I wouldn’t make you feel good.”

With that, he took the hand that made a home around her throat and patted her cheek, hard enough that the feeling went straight down to her tummy but soft enough that it didn’t hurt her like someone might think it would. He crawled further down her body, shoving her hoodie up with his hands and exposing her stomach to the cold air of the room. Y/N thinks he was trying to keep up some boundaries, bunching the shirt just below her tits like protecting some kind of modesty and pressing ticklish kisses across her skin and down her belly button. Her body tingled with anticipation, breath bated and eyes glazed as she watched him.

She felt him nuzzle into her tummy and inhale loudly, “you smell so fucking good.” Y/N giggled, taking pride in her extensive shower routine and incessant rubbing of various lotions into her skin, “thank you.”

When his mouth reached the waistband of her tiny shorts he murmured a small, “can I take these off?” To which Y/N hummed in agreement. She couldn’t agree with anything more. If Harry walked up and out of this room right now, Y/N was certain she would die.

Once they’re off, Y/N realised she was completely at his mercy. Her underwear is the only thing protecting her modesty, and with how wet she’s feeling, she doubts there’s anything left to the imagination down there, “would you look at that. You’ve soaked right through.” His fingers toyed with the edge of her wet gusset.

Another embarrassingly desperate sound left her throat and she pushed her hips in the air in search of some friction. Harry delivered a harsh slap to her thigh, “don’t move.”

His stern voice did unimaginable things for her but she complied and tried to stay as still as she could, which seemed like a task for the impossible with the teasing touches Harry delivered to her skin.

She never thought she’d be into something like this.

Something which reduces her to such a filthy, whiney mess.

That too from her best friend.

Harry doesn’t do anything for a while, just admiring how her pussy looked soaked through her panties, playing around with the lace lining of the fabric. He grabbed the gusset and pulled it tight against her so her folds swallow the cotton, “fuck. A little manhandling and this is what happens?” He more so makes a statement rather than asking her, punctuating his words by leaning down to lick a wide, sloppy strip across the cloth. It makes Y/N squeal and attempt to shut her thighs but Harry makes sure to hold her down, biceps bulging.

He pulled back to drop his fingers firmly against her clit, just keeping them there pressed tightly, feeling her heartbeat against the tips. “I thought I told you not to move.”

“Yes, I’m sorry please, please don’t stop.”

He went back to nosing at her covered clit, not making any attempt to wrap his lips around it. At this point Y/N was itching in anticipation, every ounce of her working not to rut her hips in his face and ride his tongue like she wanted to. When he finally touches her again, it's where the wetness pooled, soft suckling kisses over the fabric which made Y/N’s heart and pussy flutter.

She was incredibly frustrated, wanting nothing more than to rip her underwear off and shove his face into her but she held back, not sure if Harry would appreciate that after he made it clear time and time again how he preferred her to remain immobile while he played with her. Instead she waited until he was through with kissing every inch of her and when he finally peeled off her panties, she could practically come just from the prospect of having his mouth on her.

He doesn’t give her a second to think though, because his mouth is unrelenting. Teasing the tip of her button with his tongue before circling his lips around it and suckling in sweet, soft pulses. The sensation has her panting and gasping, squeezing his head between her thighs while one of his arms swung across her hips to keep her down and the other wiggled between the two to push her lips apart in a V shape. With her clit now exposed to the cool air, Harry zeroed in on the nerve and worked magic with his tongue, flicking it up, down, left, right and circling the button with such fevor Y/N could burst.

What electrified the experience was the sounds in the room, which were just sinful.

Her pussy squelched with each suckle Harry gave, making Y/N moan and pull Harry’s curls which in turn had him groaning lowly against her. It was an endless cycle of pornographic music.

When he pulls away from her clit, the pulsing it does is almost amusing, like it was personally begging for Harry’s attention. Instead he kissed down the length of her slit and took his time playing around with her folds, slicking her hole and letting his spit drip down to her ass.

It was so perfect and messy.

Before she knew it, Y/N’s thighs were shaking and Harry’s tongue was back to abuse her poor button. A couple more flicks and a harsh kiss pushed Y/N over the edge, her orgasm washing over her and nearly blinding her. It’s euphoric and the most intense she’s ever felt, no vibrator of hers or cock she’s ever had compared to what she was feeling and even then Harry didn’t let up on her pussy. He continued his assault, now both of his arms locking around her hips to tone down her thrashing. Only when she pushed his forehead away did he finally depart with a final lick across her slit and smiled at her fucked-out state.

He wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb and brought it to his lips, sitting up between her legs which she clinked shut. A second passes.

“Are you okay?” Y/N’s eyes were shut, an arm thrown across her forehead. “I think so.”

Harry giggled, leaning over her to remove her arm, “how’s it feel?”

“S’good. It was really nice. Thanks.” She was slightly dazed, too far gone to really understand what was going on. Her limbs felt like jell-o and she let Harry kiss her cheek again before lending her a hand to help her sit up. “I’m glad. Come on now. We need to clean you up.”

She doesn't know how she stood up from that godforsaken couch and how she made it to the bathroom, Lola returning from her retreat to her bedroom to wind around her ankles. Harry bent down to pet between her ears, “hello babydoll. Did you miss me?” He cooed.

She looked down at the pair and Harry easily sensed her wary gaze. A dashing smile was sent her way. “Do you need me to get you some underwear? Or are you afraid I’ll stumble across your array of sex toys?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. He was still the Harry she knew before he gave her the best head she ever received.

“You’re such a dick.”

“A dick that gave you the best orgasm of your life.” She couldn’t even argue with him on that. Instead, she flipped him off and disappeared into her room. Once she was all changed and wearing a fresh pair of undies and shorts, she walked out to see Harry passed out on the couch with Lola snuggled into his throat. It was then when her head finally returned to the ground and she realised the gravity of the situation.

The looming prospect of a long, painful chat in the morning hung over Y/N like a dark cloud, filling her with a gnawing sense of dread she suddenly couldn’t seem to shake.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Hiiiii i hope you like this one, first time posting in a long time so feeling a little nervous omg … leave feedback if you have any!!! Mwuahh

#harry styles #one direction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #one direction fanfiction #writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles Drabble #Harry styles au #bloobharry

[makyurini]

She Washes All of My Wounds For Me | Touya Todoroki

cw/tw: NSFT, fem reader (AFAB anatomy, femme pet names), so so SO much hurt/comfort, a lot of angels/heavenly/sinners/god-like imagery, touya is so desperate to be loved and in so much denial about it, one (1) little teeny weeny mention of Sir kink as a joke, one (1) verbal argument, touya breaks a piece of furniture during said argument but does NOT hurt reader, touya is too stubborn for his own good, drunk touya however is less stubborn, drunk apologies in the rain because i am not immune to cliches, oral and fingering (f! receiving), reader does have a Bush, praise and praise and praise and praise, super duper soft smut with obsessive undertones because of who i am as a person, touya also VERY vocal in bed, happy ending (in more ways than one)

wc: 15,240

a/n: you all thought i forgot about my re-uploads? (i did but shhh) here is one of the most personal fanfics i’ve ever written and probably my favorite (so far). enjoy! <3

The first time you call Dabi by his name, he swears he sees a halo floating above your head, glitter cascading down the face he’s spent months memorizing and the body he would consider his home if he deemed himself worthy.

He never knew a thing that has brought him so much pain, so much agony, something he thought was forever cursed to be a shameful thing to hide behind skeletons in dusty closets could sound so sweet, so tender, so gentle.

But he supposes every world that falls out of the mouth of an angel is bound to sound heavenly.

His limbs are tangled with yours, his head is pressed against your shoulder in hopes that maybe you can share the burden that lies on his, his heart has been cut out of his chest and locked in yours for safe keeping, and yet he can’t believe you still manage to find ways to rock him down to his very core. You’re a saint, something so ethereal and otherworldly he never thought his temporal hands would have a chance to touch you, and yet you still choose a sinner over your throne in the clouds.

It’s a miracle, really, his tainted soul hasn’t scared you off yet. Maybe you’re just as stubborn as he is. Maybe you see him as a charity case. Maybe, just maybe, you do love him and all of his broken pieces no matter how much they bite at your skin and dye them the color of mortals. And the fact that you can say his name with so much purity—as if it really is just another typical Friday evening spent together after a week of trying to bring hero society down and not you changing everything he knows about that goddamn name—just shows how much he doesn’t deserve you.

“What did you call me?” he asks, his face never daring to leave the crook of your neck in fear of you seeing the vulnerability in his eyes, but he can’t hide it from his voice. He knows how he sounds—knows he sounds like a child lost in a world that is far too vast for him to comprehend. Blood rushes in his ears, his hands shake as they grip your hips, blunt fingernails digging into your flesh in a vain attempt to starve off the longing that is filling his bones. It’s consuming him—chewing through calcium and turning it to mere dust between greedy enamel that only knows how to feed on what little affection he receives.

Your fingers lace themselves in his hair, a signal to let him know he’s safe, he’s okay, there’s no reason to sharpen his tongue and forge his armor around you. His heart is starved of love and you’re more than happy to flood it with so much dedication he fears it may burst out of his chest—worthless bones unable to contain all of the emotions he’s tried so hard to keep locked away. “I called you by your name. Is that okay?”

“I don’t know.”

And it isn’t because he doesn’t want you to know his name. He’s already announced it to the world. Of course, you’re going to know it. It certainly isn’t because he hates the way your lips so easily form the two syllables. It isn’t because he no longer wants to associate himself with the name.

He’s simply afraid of his greedy soul becoming attached to the way you somehow manage to make something that used to cause his skin to crawl now bring his heart a peace he’s never known before he saw your face.

“Can I call you it again?”

And you sound so uncertain, so scared you’ve prodded at bruises you didn’t even know existed, terrified of reopening a wound you’ve tried to stitch up before it bled all over your hands, that he can’t help but pull his face away from its safe space and rest his sapphire eyes on yours. Though they shake, he still runs his fingers along your lower lip and tugs so he can look at your teeth and all of the words sitting in them. You look as nervous as he feels. He’ll never tell you that, however, will never let you know how much power a simple word has over him—how much power you have over him. He’s a murderer with an agenda who has allowed rebellion and anger to corrupt his burning body. He can’t let something as fickle as love distract him from his end goal.

But sometimes, he thinks, it might be okay to allow himself to be loved, especially when you make it seem so simple.

“Just don’t get used to it, sweetcheeks,” he muses, a mask of ease sliding over his face, and pulls your body closer to his. “That version of me died long ago.”

“Maybe we can resurrect him,” you whisper into his hair, and it’s then when he realizes he lost control long ago when it comes to you.

And before he can snap back that he killed it himself, you gently kiss the tips of his fingers with a touch so tender, his lungs forget how to function properly.

Still, he manages to mutter, “Some things are better left dead. No use in trying to bring something back to life that wants to stay dead.”

“But what if it never had a chance to live?”

“Then it makes grieving a lot easier. Less memories. Less things to be sad about.”

“Or it makes it more of a tragedy.” And it’s so gentle as how you say it, full of such sorrow for a man you never got to meet. The grief in your eyes pulls at his heartstrings until they’re completely unraveled, put on display for your pure eyes to dissect and analyze, and for once in his life, he isn’t afraid.

Still, only fools allow themselves to be distracted by emotions, and Dabi is anything but a fool. Using his body weight against yours, he easily flips your bodies over so you’re now straddling him, his rough hands ghosting over your soft skin and all of the imperfections he loves so much. His fingers easily find the places that turn you into a whimpering mess above him, and he regains the control he thought he lost long ago.

“C’mon, babe, I had a rough week. Let’s not talk about it, yeah? Let me just make you feel good. Doesn’t that sound so nice? Crying from my cock instead of a stupid name?” Before you can protest, he slips his thumb past your lips and presses it against your tongue, effectively rendering you speechless as you reflexively begin sucking on the digit. “Now that’s a good girl. Let’s not worry about something stupid, okay? Now, what’s my name?”

“Sir,” you moan out around his hand, drool coating his palm in a lewd way that causes all of his blood to rush to his dick.

“That’s the only name I care about.”

The second time you call Dabi by his name, he remembers why it brings him so much pain.

It was such an odd thing to get angry about. After everything he’s done, the stunts he’s pulled, the countless times he’s burned his body trying to set others ablaze, you choose to get mad over the fact that he had to go radio silent for two weeks to keep you out of the attention of those who want to take him down. It’s nothing new, nothing you haven’t been through before. Hell, he’s had to disappear for a month before, and you welcomed him back with open arms.

So why? Why get angry now? Why do your eyes hold such hostility when looking at him? It’s something he’s grown accustomed to from strangers, from heroes who claim to fight for the greater good, from family members who forget the past, from colleagues who don’t agree with his extreme ideals. But from you? Such a thing could bring a man to his knees and grovel for forgiveness.

But not Dabi. Never Dabi. Dabi doesn’t bow to anyone—not even angels with pretty wings and glowing halos.

“What’s the big fucking deal?” he scoffs and plants himself in one of your kitchen chairs, an apple in his hand and a neutral expression on his face to hide the pain burning at his guts. “So what, I had to lay low for a little while? In case that pretty little head of yours forgot: I’m a goddamn villain and you, good samaritan, are not.”

“The big fucking deal, Touya,” you reply through clenched teeth, hands balls in fists and shaking at your sides, “is you just exposed the number one hero in Japan and then disappear for two weeks. I thought you died. I thought they locked you up and threw away the fucking key.”

The sapphires in his skull alight with a fire you haven’t seen in a while, and he grumbles dangerously low, “Don’t think you can just sling that name around to get a reaction out of me, doll, because you ain’t gonna like what’ll happen.” before taking a bite out of his apple.

Closing the space between your bodies, you smack the cursed fruit out of his hand, demanding his attention be solely on you, your chest pressed against his, noses nearly touching as you bare your fangs down at him in hopes he’ll back down. He doesn’t, of course. Instead, he stands right up, towering over you, chair clattering to the floor from the sheer speed of him getting on his feet, his own fangs on display and covered in blood.

“Oh? What’s gonna happen?” you challenge. “Are you gonna disappear? Make me think you’re dying in a goddamn gutter? Or maybe you’ll reveal your identity on live TV for all of Japan to see, expose your family for the abuse and trauma they put you through, also out the number two hero as a fucking murderer, and then randomly not answer any of my calls or texts for two weeks and leave me here to wonder what the absolute fuck is going on? Oh wait, you already did that.”

When Dabi speaks, it’s a voice he barely even recognizes, a voice he’s only heard in the back of his head and never dared to speak aloud—unhinged, angry, scared. A voice he never, ever thought would be directed towards you. But you’re so stubborn, so hellbent on babying a man who has been on his own since he was a child. Though, he supposes he has no one to blame but himself. He is, after all, a goddamn villain, and you, good samaritan, are not.

“What the fuck else am I supposed to do?” The voice shakes with a fear he’s never wanted to show: a fear of losing you—the only thing he’s ever considered worth keeping. “Do you want Endeavor, my father, to come knocking at your door looking for me? Or maybe you want Hawks sending one of his stupid goddamn feathers in here to eavesdrop on you? Want the entire fucking hero commission here tearing your place apart? Do you want to go to prison because...because—” Because I love you.

It hangs in the air between your heaving bodies—a secret he thought he had kept close to his heart, but, looking into your tear-filled eyes, knows that his heart has always been on his sleeve around you. There’s no hiding anything from you because you’ve spent hours, days, weeks, months listening to all of the whispers trapped inside fragile bones and stringing together memories locked away inside of an unstable mind. You knew him before he even knew himself.

His eyes flit around your face in search of any signs of fleeting, any telltales of abandoning him now that you’ve seen all of his ugliness. Because love is such an ugly thing. Love makes people burn their bodies from the inside out just so someone will finally gaze at their flames. Love makes people spend years with the wrong person in hopes that one day they’ll receive the affections they’ve been craving all along. Love makes people foolish, irrational, idiotic. And Dabi has always considered himself smarter than the average man.

The anger in your eyes has dissipated down to pain, and he isn’t sure which one he preferred more. Your hand comes up to cup his cheeks, and he allows it for a breath’s moment before smacking it away as if it were offensive somehow, the limb falling limply by your side before balling into a fist. Anger returns, and it’s then he decides he’d rather have the anger than the hurt. It’s easier to cause a heart rate to spike than it is to stitch a wound.

“Because why, Dabi? Why the hell would I go to prison?” you dare to ask.

“Because we fuck around and they’d be able to trace you back to me.”

The words fall from his lips faster than he can catch them, splattering against your skin with an acid strong enough to strip you down to the bone, put on display and scared of scarring as it eats away at your body. It’s too late for regrets when he sees your eyes cloud over with an agony he can’t even begin to decipher. It wasn’t supposed to hurt you. It was supposed to piss you off, to rebuild the walls he allowed you to carefully deconstruct. He was supposed to make you hate him, to make you forget what the definition of love is and associate his face with villainous tasks not for the faint of heart.

He wasn’t supposed to hurt you.

“So that’s all this is?” you whisper, lowering your head and tucking your fangs back into your gums for safe-keeping. Your voice is strikingly low, quiet even, but that doesn’t stop each word from lacerating at Dabi’s barely-beating heart. “I’m just some fuck to you? Like the days I’ve spent rubbing your back because you drank too much the night before didn’t mean shit? Or the nights we’ve spent telling each other secrets and talking about a future without corrupted heroes was all just fun and games for you? None of it meant anything? I didn’t mean anything? Is that what you’re saying, Dabi?”

Venom sits in his enamel, eroding his tongue and any semblance of self-control he had.

It burns, it burns, it burns.

He thought he’d be used to burning by now—burning forests, burning bodies, burning himself. To be alive is to set yourself on fire, and Dabi bares the scars of his livelihood. It’s all he knows, all he was taught by a man who was determined to have the brightest flame the world has ever seen.

It burns, it burns, it burns.

Touya died in a self-inflicted fire set ablaze by a child who only wanted his father’s love and attention. Is Dabi going to die by yet another fire set ablaze by a man who doesn’t know how to allow himself to be loved?

It burns, it burns, it burns.

It burns to see you so hurt. It burns to know he’s the reason behind it. It burns to look in your cold eyes and see his own angry reflection in them. It burns to see your fists shake and wonder if you’re imagining driving them into his cheeks. It burns to know that he’s losing another home because even now, after all of these years, he still isn’t good enough.

The table sitting next to him splinters into a thousand little pieces as he drives his fist through the wood, all of his frustration and anger towards himself channeled into his bony knuckles. You don’t even flinch at the action, and that only seems to anger him even more. “I didn’t ask you to do any of that shit! You volunteered, in case you forgot, sweetcheeks. I didn’t come knocking at your door asking you to take care of me. You invited me in. You offered me a place to stay. You gave me food to eat, hot water to bathe in, a bed to sleep in. And what the fuck was I supposed to say? ‘Oh, no thank you, hot stranger, I’ll just stay homeless and sleep with rats in a cardboard box’?”

“You didn’t have to pretend to love me,” you shout back, eyes flitting around like a wild animal, fists trembling at your side, chest heaving as if you just ran a mile. “You didn’t have to rip yourself open and put on this whole ‘poor me, poor Dabi’ act if that’s how you really feel. You could’ve just been some typical useless roommate who pops in every now and then. You didn’t have to pretend. You...you didn’t have to lie to me.”

“Wait, I—”

“Oh, no, no it’s fine, Dabi. It’s fine. I’m the one who got caught up in their feelings. It was my mistake. I put way more thought into this than you did. It’s fine, really.”

But it isn’t fine. None of this is fine. The crystals forming in your eyes aren’t fine. The wounds splitting open on your chest aren’t fine. Your shaking hands and tight knuckles aren’t fine. His bleeding heart isn’t fine. His bulging throat clogged with every word he wished he could say isn’t fine. His fists filled with splitters and emotions aren’t fine.

Nothing is fine.

But you’re so determined to protect the treasure in your chest you thought was safe in the hands of a thief (what a foolish, naive thing to think, really), that you’re willing to believe any lie. As long as it’s sweeter than the bitter truth, it’ll go down easier. Deep down, you know the reality behind all of the smoke and mirrors, know it before Dabi runs over to your side with his puppy-dog eyes and dulled flames, have known it since the first time the criminal fell asleep in your arms: he trusts you. And that, for Dabi, means more than something as fleeting as love. Granted, lingering somewhere in that scarred heart of his, you know he loves you. He wouldn’t keep coming around if he didn’t. He wouldn’t steal for you, sneak away from his group for you, try (and fail miserably) to cook for you, include you in his plans, allow you to call him by his name… But loving something as explosive as Dabi means you’re bound to get burned at some point, and you have a funny feeling you’re going to need some salve tonight.

“I...I didn’t mean it like that,” Dabi rushes to reassure you, his hands trying their hardest to find the wounds he caused even though he doesn’t know the first thing about healing. “I just… I’m not the best when it comes to this emotional bullshit, y'know?”

Flinching away from his touch, you whisper, “I think you should go.”

“C’mon, doll—”

“I mean it, Dabi.” Your voice is firmer now, steadier, and you wrap your arms protectively around your body.

“You’re kidding, right?” he incredulously replies. “I didn’t mean it. You’ve gotta believe me, doll. It was just something stupid that slipped out, and you’re gonna kick me to the curb for it? Just toss me aside after everything we’ve been through? After everything I’ve told you? I let you call me my fucking name, and you’re cutting me out over a dumbass mistake?”

And right behind his sapphire eyes, tucked away in the corners of his skull, he can see the white hot flames again, burning away at the tips of his fingers, dancing across his tongue and leaving blisters, new scars decorating his heart and flooding his lungs. He’s choking and sputtering, and though he knows he has the power to stop them, he can’t help but lose himself in the familiar sensation. It feels good to be on fire again. It’s home, it’s all he knows, it’s all he can truly feel—just fire, fire, fire.

Dabi, if nothing, is a man meant to burn. He was born with a flame his body can barely contain, and he’s determined to allow the world to burn with him.

And though he knows how close he was to finding a new home in your bones, and he knows how close he was to having his sins forgiven and the bloods on his hands washed off, he knows he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve any of the smiles flashed at him, any of the seconds spent in your arms, any of the kisses exchanged between hungry mouths, any of the secrets placed on his lips for safe-keeping, any of the butterflies fluttering in his guts.

He was made for destruction, and he’ll die for it as well.

And though he doesn’t want to hurt you, he knows it’s inevitable. Fire doesn’t discriminate against who it burns. He’s living, breathing evidence of that.

When your eyes meet, he can already see the scars forming over them, can see his handprint seared onto the cornea and a new cautionary tale for you: never trust the man with blue eyes to match his blue flames.

“It’s time to go, Dabi,” you state, jaw tight and twitching with anger.

He sneers down at you, “Don’t you mean Touya?”

“He died a long time ago, remember?”

You might as well slapped him in the face, spat in his eye, curse his name and everything he stands for. It hurts more than his own flames ever will—the ice in your scarred eyes, the gates closing around your soul, your fingers curling in on themselves, your lips sewing themselves shut. You’re closing yourself off to him, and he has no idea what to do now that you’ve changed all of the locks and threw away the keys. He’s over, done with, nothing more than the same traumatized child willing to burn himself alive just to have someone look at him for more than a second.

He’s Touya Todoroki: young, naive, driven, boisterous, eager to see the world and be a part of it, ready to prove himself worthy of being born.

He’s Dabi: self-destructive, sadistic, crude, violent, determined to tear the world apart, ready to prove how hypocritical heroes truly are.

He’s neither: scared, lost, unsure if he ever really was any of that, not quite the boy who wants his father’s love but not quite the man who wants to destroy him, unsteady on his feet as he tries to find his place in this ever-shifting world.

He’s both: driven, self-destructive, naive, eager to see the world, determined to tear it apart, ready to prove himself worthy of being born and show how hypocritical heroes truly are.

He doesn’t know who he is anymore, who he wants to be.

All he knows is you’ve given up on him, and that hurts more than any flame that has touched his skin before.

He leaves without another word, no more venom flung at you to add to the scars he’s left, no more furniture broken with shaking fists and scabbed knuckles, no more fiery eyes and sharp tongues. Just a man who has lost the only home he ever truly had.

The third time you call Dabi his name, he learns that love, as dangerous as it is, can heal even the deepest of wounds, and he’s ready to rid himself of the scars that have haunted his skin for as long as he dares to remember.

He isn’t sure how he’s wound up in front of your apartment, rain pouring down on him because his life was never a cliche until he met you, alcohol sitting heavy in his stomach and grounding his feet, new burns spreading across his abdomen and tainting what little skin he has left. He doesn’t want you to see them. He doesn’t want your fingers to trace the spaces his flames have violated and stained with their hatred. He doesn’t want your eyes to flash with pity as they scan him. He doesn’t want your lips to turn down into a frown when you open your door and see his soaked body, crooked grin on his face because everything about him is a little crooked, old staples missing and new ones in new places, his chest cracked open and put on display for you.

He isn’t sure what he’s hoping to get out of this surprise visitation. A part of him hopes to see you angry, because if you’re angry you care, and he isn’t sure how fit he is for a world where you no longer care about him. A part of him hopes to see you apathetic, because that would confirm the belief he isn’t worth anything anymore, and that would make destroying himself a little easier. Another, smaller part of him, hopes to see you happy, to see relief wash your features and erase the fight you two had about love and other fickle things. It might be impossible at this point, but he’s never been one for easy goals.

All Dabi truly knows, however, is he wants to see you. It’s really as simple as that, and though he isn’t a simple man and doesn’t like simple things, the desire to see you is that—simple. It’s been haunting him since he stumbled out of your apartment blinded with anger and fear. How long has it been since he’s stood here? A week? Two weeks? A month? Time becomes such a messy thing when it’s spent trying to find the next surefire way to burn your bones.

Despite the clothes clinging to his skin, he feels naked, stripped of all of his armor and put on display for you to use and dispose however you please. Dabi isn’t the type to come crawling back to places he isn’t wanted. He’d much rather fake his own death and fly under the radar for years until he’s long forgotten about. But Dabi has also never been the type to look at the stars and try to find someone’s name written in them. He’s never been the type to try to find a face in a sea of people bustling about their days without having to worry about how they’re going to make the world know about them. He’s never tried to find meaning in the clouds or why some planets revolve around stars together while others just crash into each other.

But then he met you and suddenly, he cared. He cared about why some birds hid from the rain while others embraced it. He cared about why stars liked to hide and where they disappeared to. He cared about why some wounds healed and served as a cautionary tale and why others stuck around and served as a personality trait. He cared about Touya Todoroki—the boy whose only dream was to be what his father wanted and to be loved by those who were in his life. And that, he thinks, is the scariest thing he’s ever done. To hate is easy, it’s simple, and though he’s not a simple man and doesn’t like simple things, he loved it. He loved being able to burn those who hurt him and have his world be as simple as: if it isn’t beneficial, turn it to ashes. Black and white and blue. That’s all it was.

Then he saw you look at him as if he had personally strung the stars in the sky for you and suddenly, the universe seemed a lot bigger than sick mothers and neglectful fathers.

He still doesn’t quite understand it and, truth be told, he doesn’t think he ever wants to understand it. For once in his life, he’s okay with leaving this mystery unsolved. He’s okay with having more questions than answers. He’s okay with having an unfinished puzzle and not turning over furniture looking for the right piece to complete the picture.

As long as he has you, he’s okay with finding out who Touya could have been before he burned him to ashes.

The light from your apartment floods his sensitive eyes when you swing the door open, and he almost misses the confusion that flashes across your face before you settle for a guarded expression.

“What are you doing here?” It, like most things, is a simple question, but it still hurts nonetheless, especially when paired with your arms crossing over your body and your tone pointedly flat.

And, like most things, the answer is simple: “I wanted to see you, baby.”

You quirk an eyebrow up, but the rest of you remain emotionless, detached. “Baby? That’s a new one.”

He grins. “I’ve been trying out a lot of new things lately.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Oh, you know, calling you baby. Sleeping by myself. Not killing everyone who pisses me off. Admitting when I fuck up.”

What little amusement you allow to seep through is promptly sealed shut behind a frown, and you wrap your arms tighter around your torso in an effort to protect yourself from his charm. “You can’t just show up here and apologize and think that fixes everything. You really hurt me, Dabi.”

“But you haven’t heard the other new things I’ve been trying.”

You huff, knowing once Dabi has his sights on something it’s near impossible to distract him. He’s headstrong, determined, and that’s one of the many reasons you fell in love with him (and got burned for it). “Fine, I’ll listen. But we aren’t doing it out here in the rain. I’m cold and tired and want to finish my tea.”

For the first time in weeks, you allow him in your home, and it pains him how much hasn’t changed. While his entire world was falling apart, the same shoes have stayed by your front door, the same throw blanket has been strewn across the back of your couch, the same kettle sits on your stovetop, the same jackets hang on your coat rack, and you’ve even managed to find the same table to replace the one he smashed. Your life has remained the same without him, and that is something worth shedding a tear over if he could.

He tries to sit on your couch, but you quickly stop him. “You’re soaking wet,” you reason, and motion for him to go to the bathroom. “I think I have some of your old clothes around here somewhere. Wait there and I’ll bring them to you.”

Thankfully, your compassion has remained the same as well. As he stands in your small bathroom built for one person, rain and the last of his ego dripping off of him, he’s reminded of the first time your paths crossed, when he passed out in an alleyway due to overuse of his quirk and woke up in a bed that smelled like tea leaves, old books, and love. He remembers wandering into the kitchen and finding you humming to yourself, a robe wrapped tightly around your body, two mugs of tea on your table, comfort radiating off of your skin and flooding the tiny space. He remembers how high you had jumped when you realized he had woken up, how quickly you rushed to make sure he knew where the bathroom was and how to properly work your shower so he may bathe, how you had a plate full of food ready for him when he returned to your kitchen a clean man.

He remembers asking you why let a strange, scary-looking man who was unconscious in a shady alley sleep in your home, and you simply replied over your mug, “because you look like someone who doesn’t receive help often.” It was so simple then, and he wasn’t used to simplicity. So ke kept coming around, trying to unravel the mystery of why such a sweet person would help such a tainted one, kept asking questions and prodding at your brain in hopes that maybe he’d find out you’re just as sick as he is. That was never the case, of course. It was and always has been as simple as you being a good person and him being someone in need of a home.

He’s drunk and nostalgic, which is not a good combination for men with shattered souls and too many scars to keep track of and generous people with giving hearts and healing words. And although a part of him feels as if he’s taking advantage of the kindness you have shown him, he can’t bring himself to feel guilty. Maybe it’s the selfish animal in his heart that refuses to release its sharp teeth. Maybe it’s how even after all of these months spent together, you manage to find a way to surprise him. Maybe, just maybe, he’s finally ready to accept the love you’ve been offering him. Whatever it is that’s fueling this selfish desire to lock you away in his chest, nestled right between his lungs, safe from the others with sharp teeth and even sharper tongues, he’s allowing it to roam free and take whatever it wants.

He strips himself of his clothing just in time for you to knock at the door, your gentle voice ringing through the wood. “I found some clothes.”

“Well, bring ‘em in,” he replies.

“Are you naked?”

He rolls his eyes, though you can’t see him. “C’mon, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“But—”

“Just open the door, baby.”

His voice is soft as he says it—so soft, in fact, you aren’t sure if you heard him correctly. But you did, and you’re more than aware of the fact that you’re about to see him soaked down to the bone and as naked as the moon in the sky. Hesitantly, you open the door just enough to accommodate your arm, and right when you slide your handful of clothes through the crack, Dabi’s fingers brush against yours. Electricity runs down your skin—hot, familiar, exhilarating. It steals the breath from your lungs, makes you feel as if the wooden floor beneath your feet is shifting, reminds you of how good it felt to have his rough skin pressed against yours. It’s far too tempting to rip the door open and drink in the sight of the man who holds your heart in his scarred palm, and if you still weren’t so hurt over his words, you might have. You almost think Dabi is going to do it, but, much to your surprise, he doesn’t.

“Do you mind closing the door? The draft is a little cold.” He isn’t being ornery about it. There’s no sneer to his voice. He’s almost...kind about it. Tender. Something you never thought you would associate with the man who just weeks ago plotted to murder his younger brother in order to seek revenge against his father.

You nearly slam in the door in your haste to close it and stutter out, “S-Sorry!” before scrambling to your couch. Whoever this Dabi is, you aren’t sure. The last time you saw him, he was angry, hurt, ready to burn everything he has ever known in a vain attempt to feel something other than the pain throbbing in his chest. He was a wounded animal lashing out at anything that dared to try to get close to him. He was a jaded man who never thought himself worthy of kindness. He was impulsive, impatient, self-destructive, and, above all else, vengeful. Whoever has come knocking at your door is not the man who walked out of it. This man, whoever he may be, is humble, quiet, hesitant, and retrospective.

He’s also drunk and has been out wandering in the rain.

Dabi joins you on the couch before your mind can start spinning in circles, his white hair still sticking to his face and droplets cascading down his face, sapphire orbs shining with something you can’t quite put your finger on but still shakes you down to your core. He isn’t irate. He isn’t breaking furniture or complaining about Shigaraki’s next foolish move or ranting about how Endeavor has foiled his latest plan or about how he doesn’t trust Hawks and all of his easy smiles and charming laughter. He’s calm, his hands resting on his knees and eyes resting on your face, searching for something—a sign you’re ready to listen. And despite the wounds you’re still tending to and the bandages on your skin from all of the venomous words he flung at you, your heart and mind are open and willing to take whatever he wants to give you.

It’s an odd feeling to know you’re still okay with this man and all of his thick walls and bloodied hands even after he’s shown you the part of him he keeps buried underneath sneers and a mask of disinterest. Before his temper was turn towards you, you never believed him capable of murder, of violence, of all of those plans he stays up late stringing together and comes home battered and bruised from trying to execute. Before you saw how easily his hands can destroy, he was simply Dabi: the man you found face down and drowning in his own trauma. Now there’s burn marks on your furniture and soul in the shape of his palms, and though you aren’t too sure where to take the next step, you’re still wanting to take it regardless.

Topaz flits from your lips and back up to your eyes, the crystals dripping from his snow hair causing him to look ethereal. A hesitant Dabi is a rare sight, but a beautiful one nonetheless. “Do you want—”

“You must be cold,” you blurt out, shocking the both of you.

He cocks an eyebrow and the smirk you’re all too familiar with returns to his cracked lips. You’re nervous, fluttery, nerves causing you to act more erratic and unsure of yourself. It’s cute, he thinks, cute how you go from so stubborn and closed off to a school girl trying to keep the butterflies in her stomach from crawling up her throat. It’s also a relief to see you get jumpy around him like you used to before he kissed you until your minds turned to mush and your fingers tangled with his hair and he pinned you down to your mattress, bodies tangled so tightly together he wasn’t sure where he began and where you ended. You still care. “Yeah, rain is pretty cold.”

You nod a little too eagerly. “I’ll make you some tea.”

“You go do that, doll.”

“And I can get you a blanket.”

“If you want.”

“And I can make you some food.”

“Sure. I could eat.”

“And I’ll… I’ll be back!”

“Don’t be gone too long.”

He watches you leave with a grin full of amusement and affection, and that does nothing to help ease the anxiety rolling around in your gut. You feel clumsy, skittish, for all of the wrong reasons. You want to kiss him. You want to shake the water out of his shaggy hair and pull on the ends of it while his lips attack your neck. You want to wrap your legs around his waist and feel his thighs flex underneath you as he tries to pull you as close as possible. You want to hear all of those breathless moans that tumble from his lips whenever you nibble on his collarbone. You want to lose yourself in him. Forget the anger, the hurt, the nights spent shivering because you didn’t have him next to you, the mornings spent drinking tea alone and making enough food for one person. He’s back, and you’re almost certain he was forgiven before the moon disappeared from the sky the night he left.

You can feel his eyes burning a hole in your back as you prep your kettle to boil some water, watching the way your hands shake as you turn the burner on and how you nearly drop the lid to it, and you know for a fact he has that same smirk on his lips. Why are you so damn nervous around him now? He’s buried himself in you too many times to count, has whispered the most obscene things in your ear, has seen you at your most raw and unfiltered, and now you’ve turned into a neurotic mess? Why is your stomach doing somersaults and why is your heart slamming itself in your ribcage and why does your throat feel too large for your neck?

Because this Dabi isn’t the Dabi who left. You know in the deepest parts of your guts, past the pain and the hesitance, whoever is sitting on your couch is not the man who broke your table. And even if there’s alcohol swimming in his veins and an ego in need of nursing, there’s something alarmingly self-aware twinkling in his sapphires, something that lets you know he knows. He knows he hurt you. He knows he wasn’t in the right. He knows he bit the only hand that was willing and wanting to feed him. He knows your knuckles still bare his teeth marks. He knows it’s going to take more than a simple fuck to make everything okay again. Because, for the first time, it isn’t going to be simple with you. It isn’t going to be as simple as him needing a bandage and you pulling out a first aid kit. It isn’t going to be as simple as him being angry at the world and you helping him get lost in the stars. And he’s okay with it. He’s okay reopening any wounds that didn’t heal quite right. He’s okay with spilling every single word sitting in his guts. He’s okay complicating himself if that means making things easy for you. Because, like almost everything else that has to do with you, you’re simply worth it.

He speaks up while you’re digging through your closet trying to find a blanket suitable for him, his voice laced with an odd mixture of hesitance and bemusement. “While you’re being all fidgety and shit, can I tell you the other new things I’ve been trying?”

“If you want.” You echo his previous words, careful to keep the anxiety out of your voice, as you prepare to make a meal for him.

Though you can’t see him, he smiles—a real smile for once. No sarcasm or scorn buried underneath taut muscle. A genuine smile with genuine happiness and genuine love. As scary as it is, it’s something he could get used to if he doesn’t keep himself on a leash, but he thinks he might be okay with that. “I looked at myself in the mirror the day after I left.”

That stops all of your tense movements in their tracks. Mirrors have been Dabi’s worst fear since the day you met him, because they contain his worst enemy. He’s avoided them, broken them, used the shards to puncture his heart and lacerate his lungs. He’s covered them, screamed at them, tried to erase them from his memory. To look at himself in the mirror is to face himself head-on, and that’s something you never thought you’d see. “How was that?”

He chuckles, deep and sorrowful, a sound that comes from the bittersweet emotions he’s destroyed his feet trying to run from. “I fucking hated it. I’m a real scary looking bastard, eh?”

“No.” The word tumbles out of your mouth with a resoluteness Dabi never thought himself worthy of. Your eyes are full of conviction once they meet with his, your jaw set in the way that lets him know there isn’t anything that will change your mind.

It’s adorable how deeply you think he deserves love even after he’s shown you how much it can hurt, and he can’t help but chuckle at how quickly your demeanor can change when it comes to matters like self-hate and forgiveness. “Did you lose your eyesight while I was gone? Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but I ain’t the prettiest face around here.”

You chew on your lip, careful that the words that leave your mouth help soothe the wounds on his mind. “I don’t care about your scars or your staples. I don’t care about the blood and gore. None of that matters.”

“Oh? Then what does? Because last I checked, society only likes pretty people with pretty quirks and pretty lives. Society doesn’t give a flying fuck about ugly bastards like me with ugly quirks and ugly lives.”

Dabi doesn’t expect you to answer, but you’ve always found ways to surprise him. The food on the kitchen counter is long forgotten about as you close the space between you two, your body just mere inches away from his. It’s the closest you’ve been since that night, and he has to fight the urge to pull you down on his lap. He doesn’t need to, apparently, because you’re practically sitting on it as your fingers trace over his brow bone with a touch so gentle, he could weep right then and there.

“What matters,” you whisper, “is how much your eyes shine when you laugh.” And then, your finger is tracing the corners of his mouth, ghosting over his lips. “What matters is how soft your lips are when they’re pressed on me.” And then, down the hollow of his throat down to his collarbone. “What matters is how you always smell like stale cigarettes and campfires.” And then, down his chest and right on the beginning of his abdomen. “What matters is how safe I feel when you’re holding me.” And finally, your palm rests right above his left peck, right over his hammering heart. “What matters is your passion, your drive, your determination. I don’t give a damn what society thinks about you. I think you’re beautiful, Touya.”

He knows it’s technically impossible but he swears he feels fireworks in his chest—bombastic, ribcage-breaking, heart-shattering, soul-cracking passion tearing his muscles apart until all that’s left is a body full of love. He loves you, and you think he’s beautiful, and he’s almost certain that, in this moment, everything is right in the world. “Can this beautiful man kiss you?” he breathes out, his eyes pleading with you to allow him to show you just how you’ve managed to piece him back together.

“Only if I can kiss him back,” you shyly reply.

If Dabi ever doubted the existence of angels, he knows now how terribly wrong he was, how utterly pessimistic and downright ignorant it was to doubt ethereal lives when he has one right here in his arms, sweet lips pressed against his, legs wrapped around his waist, arms pulling him closer and closer until your chests are touching and there’s not an inch of space between you two. Flashes of gold and thrones and feathers cross his mind as he breathes you in—all of the things he used to deny but now longs for. He wants to rule heaven with you, wants to make new worlds where other angels can’t follow and look down at him in disapproval, where he can’t hear their conspiratorial whispers of the saint who fell in love with the sinner, where he’s free to love you and worship you and allow his temporal hands roam your celestial body.

Dabi is a man who was born of corruption and gluttony and has fallen head over heels in love with purity and selflessness, and though he doubts he will ever think of himself worthy of such things, it won’t stop him from indulging. He is, after all, a bit greedy himself.

When his tongue brushes against yours and the taste of beer explodes in your mouth, you’re uncomfortably aware of the fact that only one of you is sober. You pull away, much to yours and his disappointment, but rest your forehead on his so you’re never too far from him. If you could, you would sew yourself to his skin, bury yourself in his bones and make a home out of his veins, play a prayer of love and devotion on loop so he knows that no matter how much heaven may shun sinners and all of their scars, you’re capable of a little rebellion every now and then.

But for now, while intoxication is a factor in a matter that should be dealt with a clear mind, you’ll settle for holding his hand.

“Dabi, you’re—”

“Drunk,” he finishes for you, a sort of sad smile on his face. “If it makes you feel better, I’m way more sober now.”

It’s a joke to help calm the guilt rolling around in your guts, you know it, and you brush your fingers against the corner of his mouth, wondering how long it’s been since he’s smiled and how often he might now. “Will you regret any of this in the morning?”

It stabs him right in the heart to hear such a question full of hesitance and apprehension asked so quietly, if he weren’t so dead set on catching every word that falls from your lips he might not have heard you. He feels the way your shoulders shake, can tell you’re just barely holding back tears, and he presses his hand to the back of your head to guide your face to the crook of his neck where you’re free to cry and hiccup however much you need. “I could never regret anything when it comes to you, baby. Why the tears?”

“I just…” A shaky sigh falls from your lips, your tears mixing with the droplets still clinging to his hair. “I thought I lost you before and now you’re back and I know technically you’re drunk but I know how sincere you are and it’s all just so—”

His fingers begin to massage circles into your shoulder blades, and he presses his lips to the side of your head, nose full of your scent and trying its best to burn it into his memory. “Babe.”

“Y-Yeah?” you hiccup.

“Fuckin’ breathe. It’s okay. It’s all okay. You didn’t lose me. I’m right here, baby, right fuckin’ here, and I’m not going anywhere. Not again. I fucked up, okay? I fucked up real bad and I know I did. I promise you, I’m not really drunk at all. I mean, I had a good buzz going on when I first showed up, but being here with you, talking with you, sobered me up real quick.”

And he sounds so genuine, so full of love and honesty, you can’t help but tangle your fingers in his hair, pull him so close you can feel his heartbeat against yours, bury your face right next to his jugular and commit mortality to memory. You cry until your eyes are almost swollen shut. You cry until your heart feels too large for your chest. You cry until your breath is a stuttering mess.

You cry for Dabi and all of the pain he’s carried around with him and no place to put it. You cry for Touya and all of the homes he’s lost and all of the times he was never enough. You cry for yourself and how deeply you love a man who only believes himself worthy of destruction. You cry for lost potential and empty promises of better tomorrows. You cry for broken furniture and shattered hearts because no one ever warned you love wasn’t easy. You cry and cry and cry until your voice is hoarse and the only thing you can taste is the salt cascading down your face.

And Dabi holds you through it all. His hands run up and down your back, gently rocking both of your bodies to a tune only he knows, his lips pressed against your head in hopes you can feel the adoration seeping out of his body. He allows you to unleash all of the emotions he’s stirred up in you. He catches every tear that falls from your eyes, thankful he’s unable to shed his own.

Once the world has stopped shifting and you’re able to steady yourself, he carries you to your bed without another word, a tender kiss against your forehead before he turns to leave.

“Where are you going?” you ask, barely managing to whisper.

He smiles down gently at you. “You left some food out. I was gonna put it away then crawl in bed.”

“Don’t care. Come to bed now.”

“Your wish is my command.”

With your face tucked away in his chest, your arms wrapped around his torso, and your legs tangled with his, Dabi falls into a peaceful sleep for the very first time since he learned that family will always be your first disappointment.

The fourth time you call Dabi by his name, he finally allows himself to drown in the emotions he’s spent his entire life learning to swim away from.

The sinner wakes up with angel feathers around his body, the spot where your body laid empty and cold but scent still clinging onto the sheets. He quickly finds himself in a familiar routine of glaring at the nosy sun peeking through curtains and violating his eyes, cursing his nocturnal nature and how much easier it is to be himself in front of the moon and stars. After contemplating if going back to sleep is worth it (it isn’t), he drags his body out of bed and into a warm shower. The smell of your shampoo is somewhere to be found in the leftover steam of your own shower, and he smiles to himself when he remembers where he’s at: home. And it isn’t a home where dishes are broken and voices crack and plead. It isn’t a home where fear sits in the living room and stress waits for him in the kitchen. It isn’t a home where he’s expected to be an adult with obligations without ever knowing what it’s like to be a child full of wonder.

It’s a home where angels sing in the kitchen as they cook breakfast while he tries to wash his sins away in the bathroom and that, he thinks, is the closest to perfection he will ever get.

He walks into the kitchen with a towel around his waist and his scars on full display—new ones angry and red, old ones melancholy and purple—and, for once, he isn’t afraid. He doesn't try to hide them under baggy clothes and jeering words. He allows your eyes to run over them and wince at the fresh ones and squint at the old ones, because he knows you aren’t disgusted by them, you don’t pity him, you accept them as they are—reminders of times where he strayed too close to the fire.

“Morning, baby,” he says around a yawn as he sits at your table.

You smile softly at him and how easy he finds it to be around you. “You’re really laying the ‘baby’ stuff on thick, huh?”

“I mean, you only let me call you a cockslut when you’re being one, and I don’t see you on your knees right now so…”

Flustered, you quickly turn back around to tend to the salmon and eggs you’ve been cooking, probably adding far too much salt but trying to not pay attention to how much your hands are shaking. This causes Dabi to laugh—gentle, deep, melodic in a sense, carefree and raspy. “Oh, so you think you’re Mr. Funny Man, hm?” you challenge, though you don’t dare face him.

“I think I’m downright hilarious, baby.”

“Well, that makes one of us.”

“Whatever you say, baby.”

You swat a tea towel at him, which he quickly dodges with a grin, and you roll your eyes. “You aren’t giving up any time soon, are you?”

“Do I ever? Baby.”

“Point taken.”

Breakfast is eaten in comfortable silence—Dabi radiating a happiness you never thought possible, you soaking it all in with a sense of relief. He takes his time as he eats, as if he’s savoring every flavor crawling around his tongue, contemplative as his teeth shred his food to tiny pieces. You admire the sight of his furrowed brow and bright eyes as you sip on your tea, unsure of what to say and worried what you do want to say will scare him away. So rather than choke on the words sitting in the back of your throat, you take this opportunity to inspect his body. After all, it isn’t every day Dabi is comfortably shirtless, especially in the sun’s rays where all of his flaws are visible for anyone and everyone to see.

You spot the newer burns sitting close to his hips, not quite as wrathful as the older ones resting on his chest, but still containing a torment you don’t think you’ll ever understand firsthand (and you doubt he’d want you to). When he first began showing up at your doorstep and all you knew about him was he looked different than anyone else you knew, you used to tell yourself stories about his scars—how he got them, how painful they were, which ones are newer than the others, which ones were self-inflicted and which ones were done by a resentful hand, how they all come together for form a man who’s become a sort of expert when dealing with macabre things.

If it bothers him to have your attention so focused on things he tries so hard to hide, he’s never said anything about it. When he first noticed how fixated you were on his scars, he cupped your chin and tilted your head up, forcing you to look at his sapphires full of curiosity and hesitance.

“Little distracted there, doll,” he observed.

“Do they hurt?”

He blinked, unsure of what to make of your harmless tone. “Not really. If I get new ones, they hurt like a motherfucker, but I get used to it after a few days.”

“Are they hard to take care of?”

“No. I’ve been taking care of them for a while now so it’s not a big deal.”

Your fingers gently traced the staples on his collarbone, careful to not pluck at any, not a hint of disgust to be found on your angelic face. “Can you teach me how?”

He jolted back and immediately guarded himself behind walls high enough to reach the heavens. Suspicion clouded his eyes, laced through his tone and made his muscles more rigid. “Why?”

“So I can help you take care of them,” you replied, as if everything were really that simple, and Dabi swore he saw a flash of angel wings fluttering on your back.

Back in the present, Dabi watches your eyes fill with nostalgia, a small smile on your face as your fingers trace the rim of your mug. He thinks he can stare at you all day if you would allow him to. He thinks he could spend the rest of forever memorizing all of the expressions you make as you try to dissect mortality and why seraphic beings are so fascinated with it. He knows that eventually, sacrifices will have to be made and one of you will lose themself serving a god who doesn’t like those in love with vengeance while the other one tries to pluck their own eyes out so they may be blind to how much suffering they’ve caused. But, for now, he’s happy being the fool in love who flew too close to the sun.

“Little distracted there, baby,” he chuckles, gathering up your dishes and placing them in the sink. “Am I just that handsome?”

“You never did teach me how to help take care of them,” you reply with a somber tone.

The mug he’s holding nearly slips out of his hand when your words reach his ears. So you really were thinking about morality and all of its ugliness. He tries his hardest to keep his voice light, to not show how much he envies angels and how easy ignorance is for them. “They aren’t yours to take care of.”

“No, but I’d like to help.”

“Why?”

“Because…” Because I love you. There is it again, that goddamn sentence that always manages to stick itself to the roof of your mouth. You’re choking on it, trying to allow oxygen to flow through lungs that are turning inside out because you can’t seem to find the courage to say you love a sinner in a world that shuns blood and fire. Acid fills your throat as your lips try to form the words burning at your gums. I love you, I love you, I love you. Why is it so hard to say? Why is love such a scary thing even though it presents itself as a cure for everything wrong in the world? Why does your kitchen seem smaller than before? Why are there black spots dancing in front of your eyes? Why is Dabi so afraid of anything he can’t burn and why are you afraid of giving him a reason to leave?

“Because…?” he prompts you, oblivious to your inner turmoil.

You try to flash an easy smile at him, though you fear it may look strangled. “Because I don’t want you to bleed everywhere if you miss a spot.”

That certainly isn’t the answer he was expecting given the way a chuckle stutters out of his throat, but he finds himself laughing until he’s nearly bent at the waist and struggling to catch his breath. It’s a beautiful sound, one full of long-lost joy and too many cigarettes smoked under a full moon, one that cups your heart and kisses it tenderly. “Well, I don’t want to ruin any more furniture,” he hums. “Better teach ya’ the secrets to my staples and how to make this mug oh-so pretty.”

After dishes have been washed and food has been stored away, you usher Dabi back to the bathroom and pull out the first aid kit you’ve learned to keep handy. He guides you with a firm hand and soft voice, tells you how to properly disinfect the burns and where to place the staples so they hold everything together, teaches you how to keep your fingers from shaking and how to not wince whenever metal punctures flesh. Keeping someone from falling apart shouldn’t feel so intimate, but with every staple placed into taut skin a jolt of something warm, something precious, something so fragile you’re afraid if you acknowledge it it’ll fall apart, spreads across your chest and causes sunlight to pour out of your hands.

With every brush of your fingers, the sinner is slowly learning to admire sunrises and how they highlight all of the things he tries to hide in the night. It’s not an easy task, and he struggles to fight the urge to find solace in galaxies littered across the sky, but if it means he can admire your face under the rays then he’ll bear through it all. You’re so close to him—the closest you’ve been in weeks. He can see every eyelash, every pore, every bit of stardust swimming under your skin and all of the oceans running through your veins. His body might contain destruction, but yours contains creation—the secrets to all of the universes and how to create life out of pure love. And maybe it’s a bit of an oxymoron to have such opposing things crash together, but Dabi is not a simple man and he doesn’t like simple things.

“Can I tell you the other new things I’ve been trying?” he asks timidly.

You look up in a pair of frightened sapphires and nod slowly, shyly. “Yes.”

Long, slender fingers stop your hand from placing another staple into him, and rough lips kiss all of the suns in your palms. His voice shakes when he speaks, nearly as much as his soul does, but he still forces the words out. “I’ve been trying out this...thing. It’s pretty fuckin’ scary. To be honest, I never thought I’d try it. And to be even more honest, I thought it was too late for me to try it. I thought it came with an expiration date, y’know? Like those credit card offers you get in the mail that say some bullshit like, ‘This offer is only good for the next two weeks! Sign up now!’ But recently, I learned that now is the perfect time to try it.”

“And what is it?”

The air is filled with anticipation, with words that have sat in throats for far too long, with feelings that have been locked away in chests, with pasts that have refused to die, with futures that may never live, with closets overfilling with skeletons. It’s suffocating, terrifying, absolutely world-shattering. But with your gift of creation, Dabi can destroy as much as he wants without worrying about leaving any new nasty scars on planets. He’s free to be himself, to unleash as much fire as he wants, and you’ll be right behind him, sweeping up ashes and leaving life in their wake.

“Love.”

Once the word drips from his tongue and lands right on your chest, the world stops turning. Stars can no longer be found and the moon buried itself in a black hole and oceans stop their waves. Angels have stopped fussing about forgiveness and gods are no longer worried about who deserves to be smited next. The entire universe and beyond has ceased to expand because all that matters in this moment is how Dabi’s heart is no longer caged and you’re no longer afraid to play with fire.

Tears fill your eyes before you can stop them, and Dabi brushes his thumb across your eyelashes. “You love me.” It isn’t a question, and it certainly doesn’t need an answer, but he offers you one anyway.

“I love you, and I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to realize.”

If the sinner didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought he heard the angels begin to sing. But trivial things like sins and purity, heaven and hell, angels and demons, don’t matter because none of them could ever feel as freeing as loving you. He’s no longer bound by the past and all of its bloodshed, and he thinks it’s okay to forget it sometimes. His fingers shake as they brush tears away you didn’t even know you have shed, careful to not taint your divine skin with his infernal hands, a shy sort of smile on your lips as you pull his body closer to yours. He protests that you’ll get blood on your clothes, and you shush him by telling him you’ve always been fascinated with mortals anyway, and neither of you are sure who initiated it but your lips are slotting together and you remember why heaven never felt like home.

Before you could get lost in how good it feels to not have to worry about serving a vengeful god, Dabi picks you up and carries you to your bedroom, chest flush against yours and hearts beating in sync. He’s gentle as he lays you on your bed, careful to not disturb your wings and all of the feathers falling from your back. His fingers graze your thighs, and for a moment he fears he may be cast down to the deepest pits of hell before he’s able to worship you the way you deserve. But then, you pull his face down to yours and kiss him as if he hasn’t spent his entire life in search of his next big sin and, suddenly, hell is worth being dragged through as long as it means he gets to hold your hand.

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips. “I love you, I love you, I fucking love you, angel.”

Shaky fingers trace his jawline as if he were going to crumble to desk any second. “I love you, too. It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re okay. Everything is okay.”

He didn’t even realize he had blood droplets welling in his eyes until you gently wiped them away, fingertips glistening with newly formed rubies and trembling as you try to get rid of any evidence of sadness. Rather than trying to voice all of the emotions crawling up his throat, he kisses the wet pads of your digits, a silent thank you for teaching him that even the most corrupt of souls can be saved. Cracked lips trace over soft skin, and though it serves as a reminder of the different worlds you serve, the villain can’t help but lose himself in all of the pretty little noises falling from your mouth. It’s hypnotizing how you can make something as simple as a few breathy moans sound like the same harps in the clouds he’s spent his entire life trying to run away from. He’s barely taken your shirt and pants off and you’re already heaving underneath him—the visual reassurance he needed to know that you’ve been waiting for this moment just as eagerly as he had. And right as he lowers his head towards your thighs to provide the relief you’ve both needed, you stop him short, trembling hand finding purchase in his snowy locks.

“Angel…?” Sapphires full of questions scan your face, but he waits for you to speak, waits for your explanation, waits for you. He’s spent his entire life waiting for someone—something—like you, what’s a few more seconds?

You look hesitant—eyes darting around the room, incisors digging into your lower lip, heart thumping in the hollow in your throat—and, if Dabi didn’t know any better, scared. “I...uh...I’m unprepared.”

He blinks up at you. “I’m not following. What do you mean ‘unprepared’? No condoms? I’m fairly certain I’ve fried all of my swimmers so there’s a very small chance you’ll get knocked up, and I promise you no one has touched me in years so there’s no risk of any infections. There’s always Plan B too if I still have a few stubborn lil’ guys desperate to create a crotch goblin and—”

“No,” you cut him off, the heels of your hands digging into your eyes. “I haven’t...y’know...taken care of things down south in a while…”

A laugh bubbles up his throat once he realizes what your implications are. You haven’t shaved. He’s covered in nightmarish scars and staples, lanky body trying to destroy itself every second he’s alive, and you’re worried about some body hair? It almost pains him to think that you’re so self-conscious of something so miniscule, so human, so mundane it doesn’t even deserve a second thought. Who turned you away for keeping one of your temporal traits? Who shunned you for wanting to be mortal?

“Angel,” he breathes between chuckles, his knuckles brushing against your cheek and pulling your hands away from your face. “Have you looked at me at all? Like, really looked at me?”

You meekly nod.

“Then you’ll know that I’m the last person to give a fuck about some hair. Hell, I can’t even grow my own body hair because it’s all burned to shit. Your body hair is a part of you, therefore, I love it. I don’t care if you grow it, shave it, wax it, whatever. That’s your choice. So don’t be so ashamed of it, yeah? If you can look past my fuckin’ terrifying scars, I can look past a few hairs, okay?”

Rough fingers trace a soft cheek, and you find yourself nodding again, spreading your legs and allowing him access to the place he craves to be most. You’re completely and utterly intoxicating looking down at him through unshed crystals, fingers playing with the strands of his hairs while he tries to memorize how you look in this exact moment because he’s sure this is the closest to heaven he’ll ever get. He’s tender as he traces your soaking slit with his calloused digit, careful to not rush you nor taint you with the impermanence of humanity. A bit of stardust falls out of your mouth when you moan out his name, and he’s disappointed in himself for not bringing a mason jar so he may keep all of your celestial beauty on a shelf as a reminder that not everything is as ugly as he is. Still, he considers himself the luckiest mortal to ever grace this earth to see you wriggling underneath him, see how your mouth goes slack when his finger brushes against your swollen clit, hear how soft your pleas for more are, to know that even the holiest of angels are capable of a little sin.

“What’s that, baby?” he coos down at you, fingers never leaving the apex of your thighs.

The mewl you let out is cut short by a whimper as he drags his fingers down your fluttering hole, gathering up all of your juices and licking them clean, sapphires never leaving your face. It’s the most erotic thing you’ve been blessed enough to see, so fucking sexy and world-shattering as he brings his hand down to grind his palm against your throbbing heat. Lowering his body over yours, he nips at the sensitive shell of your ear, licking and sucking on the afflicted skin until you’re bucking your hips against his hand.

“S’matter, sweetheart?” he asks with feigned sympathy. “Can’t handle a little teasing?”

But, oh god, if only you knew how he’s barely hanging on. This last shred of control he’s somehow maintained is about to burst at the seams, tear his world to shreds until all he knows is you and all of your feathers and glittering halo. He’s a mere mortal who somehow found a way to break into heaven, and he’s about to lose himself amongst all of the clouds if he lets go. He can’t, not yet, not when he’s still unsure if you love him as much as he needs you, not when he’s afraid of you regretting having an affair with ephemeral beings. You deserve better than him, he’s sure of it, but you’re looking up at him with eyes full of stars and wonder and he can’t stop himself from breaking down his own walls he’s spent a lifetime building up.

Trembling hands grab at his neck, his hair, anything they can grasp to pull him closer, closer, closer. You want him, you need him, all of him, every last scar, every little staple, every tear he had shed before crying became impossible, every blood-curdling scream that has left his throat, every word that has dripped from his tongue, every insecurity that haunts his heart, everything. You need Dabi, you need Touya Todoroki, you need the man you found facedown in an alleyway, you need the man who shattered your soul and furniture, you need the man who came back and pieced them both back together. You need him, and he’s never been more sure of it than in this moment.

“I don’t think you’ll ever realize how beautiful you are,” he whispers, breath hot against your cool skin.

But before you can reply, his tongue is running along your folds and his hands are intensely gripping your hips and, oh my god, you swear you see stars on your ceiling. He drags his tongue across your pussy like a starved man, moaning and panting in sync with every noise that falls from your chest, determined to make you cum, desperate to earn every ounce of praise you’ve ever given him. Sapphires clouded with lust and love gaze up at you as a hot mouth toys with your desire, and you’re certain this is what it’s like to be worshiped in the best way possible. You brush your thumb against his cheek, a signal that he’s so good, the best possible devotee and all of his acts of worship won’t go in vain.

“F-F-Fuck,” you mewl, and earn a groan from him in return, the verberations hitting your pussy and causing supernovas to explode behind your eyes. “Oh, please, just like that! You’re so good, Dabi, so fucking good!”

His index finger replaces his tongue, languid strokes against your sopping heat as he tries to catch his breath. “Goddammit, you’re perfect.” His voice is somewhere between a moan and a whine, syllables catching in his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing as he attempts to swallow down all of the words flooding his esophagus. “You’re so fucking perfect for me and I’m so in love with you it hurts.” He’s in awe, completely and utterly in shock that such an innocent creature—one with stars in their skin and oceans in their veins and all of the secrets to love and life trapped between their flower-filled lungs—can look at him with such…adoration. Passion, trust, tenderness, bliss—they’re all there, swimming in your irises, dancing across your face, beating in your chest.

You love him, you love him, you love him.

And it isn’t out of pity. He isn’t some sick stray dog you found and nursed back to health and fell in love with along the way. You love him as if you had no other choice to, as if your heart would explode without him, as if the world would stop turning if he left. And, god, does he love you. He loves you like Icarus loved the sun—dangerously, self-destructive and self-aware, knowing he’ll never be worthy but still determined to be close with you at least once during this lifetime.

“I love you,” he murmurs again, fingers finding your cunt and mouth attaching itself to your clit again.

He’s a starved animal, deprived of love and selfishly taking as much as he can now that he’s in a home full of it. But there’s not a damn thing selfish about the way he loves you, about the way he circles his tongue around your clit, about the way hs dips his slender fingers into your throbbing heat and grazes your gummy walls, about how his other hand is touching as much of your soft skin as he can—your breasts, your nipples, your hips, the swell of your ass, your legs, just everything, everything, everything, so he knows what dedication feels like.

Bony hips rut against your mattress in a desperate search for some form of relief, but he can’t stop himself from devouring every little piece of you until your halo falls off and you’re free from the clutches of a cruel god. You were never truly happy amongst the clouds, were you? Always forced to be something you weren’t, forced to shun anyone who was less than perfect, forced to convert anyone who didn’t believe.

But now, in this moment, with the very same face you were taught to fear is buried between your legs, when you’re stripped down to the bone and all of your galaxies are setting the room alight, when your soul is naked and free to be handled by even the most scarred of hands… You’ve never felt more free.

Your fingers pull on his wintry locks in an attempt to bring him closer to you, closer to heaven and all of its promises of healing. “I—” Dabi cuts your whines off by flattening his tongue against your clit, sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves and pumping his fingers faster. “F-Fuck…! I’m so close! Wan’ cum, please, wan’ cum so badly!”

You’re barely hanging on. Flashes of gold dance in front of your eyes and you’re almost certain it’s a part of your halo falling, but who needs angels when the sinner right between your legs is the loveliest thing you’ve ever seen? He’s quivering—so overwhelmed with the trust you’ve given a man with bloodied hands to not taint your precious body that he can’t help but try to give you every ounce of reassurance that yes, he is trustworthy! He’s worthy! Even with scarlet stains on ivory skin and graveyards full of regrets, he’s been deemed worthy of one of heaven’s most pure angels.

The fifth time you call Dabi by his name, he’s ready to completely throw away his previous life in favor of everything holy and pure.

Your thighs are shaking around his head, hands tangling themselves in his hair and pulling for dear life, and he knows you’re so, so close to that final push that will permanently brand you a fellow sinner.

“Tell me how much you need it, angel,” he all but pleads against your pussy, the pace of his fingers becoming faster and sloppy, desperate, haphazard circles being drawn into your clit and hungry teeth nipping at your flesh. “Tell me how much you need me. Oh my fucking god, baby, please tell me how much you need it. I need to hear it. I need it, I need you.”

“Touya, I need you,” you cry out. It’s a demand—give me all of you and let me love every piece. It’s a plea—love me as much as I love you and don’t ever leave my side. It’s a promise—I’ll wash every wound for you if it means I get to be close to you. It’s everything Dabi could have ever wished for and more—an angel finally allowing themself to be free of their divine restraints in order to love the very same thing that might kill them. “Oh, fuck, I need you. I need you, I need you, I need you.”

You love him, you love him, you love him.

His ears are filled with your prayers and his mouth is full of your ambrosia and his chest is full of all of the suns you’ve saved for him, and, for a moment, he thinks he’d be okay if he died right now. Your whimpers are intoxicating, the very same harm that tempts every sinner with a tainted soul. The pleasure that has been rumbling and knotting deep within your gut finally snaps with a few licks to your clit and his knuckles brushing against your slick walls, and you’re sure that you’ve officially lost your heavenly status. It’s worth it. It’s all worth seeing Dabi looking up at you with his hypnotizing topazes and smile that would make God himself weep.

Unsteady hands grab at his sharp face, heavenly fingers swiping away the rubies that have begun to cascade down his cheeks and splash on the bed sheets, a wobbly smile on cracked lips.

“You’re crying,” you observe, tender as you try to pull him close to you. “Are you okay?”

But rather than answer you, Dabi takes both of your wrists in one of his hands and delicately pins them over your head, his other hand tracing your body with feather-light touches. He’s measured with his ministrations, hesitant, careful to keep all of the flaws trapped in his bones away from you and all of the galaxies in yours.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” The rubies are still falling from his topazes and all you can think of is how terribly wrong he is because he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. Not the clouds in the sky, not the other angels fleeting around carelessly, not the supernovas you see every night, not the sunrises you see every morning. Nothing could measure up to how painfully beautiful it is watching Dabi finally accepting the love you’ve been trying to offer him for what feels like a lifetime.

“You’re gorgeous,” you manage to reply, voice and heart wobbly. “You’re handsome and beautiful and—”

Rough lips slotting against yours cuts you off, calloused fingers cupping your face, and when he finally releases his hold on you, you wrap your arms around his neck. He’s shaking like a lost child, salty tears and copper mixing with your hungry kisses and clashing against greedy tongues. Your chests heave together as sobs wrack both of your bodies, so desperate to finally be together after heaven was so determined to keep you separated. Fumbling hands rip the towel that clung to his hips off, and he sinks himself into you, his hips stuttering with every centimeter he pushes through.

The sixth time you call Dabi by his name, he understands why generations of men have gone to war to feel a fraction of what he’s drowning in—earth-shattering, skin-searing, sanity-robbing fulfillment.

Eyes rolling to the back of your head, stars exploding under your skin, you dig your fingernails into his back as he snaps his hips against yours. He’s lost in you and all of your healing touches, all of the prayers echoing in your chest, all of the feathers falling down your back and glitter falling down your face. He’s completely and utterly in love with the saint underneath him, and he silently vows to protect you until his dying breath.

“A-Angel,” he groans, his pace sloppy as he tries to chase the high only you can provide him. “Oh, f-fuck, you feel so fucking good. You’re so good to me. So goddamn perfect. I love you so fucking much. Please, don’t leave me.”

Somehow, some way, you manage to find your voice and sob, “I love you, Touya, love you more than anything! ‘M not going anywhere, I promise.”

The seventh time you call Dabi by his name, he allows the past to die and begins to set up a home for the future.

His hips stutter when the sound of his name falls on his ears, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck to bring your chest flush against his. “Say it again,” he pleads. “Say my name again. Just like that, baby, say it again.”

“Touya!”

The eighth time you call Dabi by his name, he swears he sees a flash of golden gates.

He kisses the hollow of your throat, watching the way your pulse skyrockets at his touch. “Again.”

“Touya!”

The ninth time you call Dabi by his name, he starts to feel galaxies form under his own skin, and it’s then he knows his sins have been forgiven.

He’s drunk on purity and innocence and forgiveness—all of the things he’s been denied his entire life but has found waiting for him in your ribcage. “Again.”

“Touya!”

And though he knows he’s just a greedy man who was lucky enough to catch the attention of God's greatest servant, he thinks he might be able to sit in heaven with you. He hopes, for just a moment, he might be able to see all of the golden gates and hear all of the harps that have haunted his dreams. His soul is still tainted with broken promises and broken families, but laying right underneath him, with the secret to healing and the key to salvation in their palm, is the very definition of love and everything right in the world.

And hovering right above you, with all of his passion and determination, with all of his flaws put on display for anyone to scrutinize, is a reminder of how beautiful and brave it is to be human in a world that only praises heavens. His cock brushes against your cervix, his lips kiss every inch of skin they can touch, his hands are buried in his hair, his voice is rough with desire and need, and nothing in heaven could ever be as breath-taking as Touya Todoroki.

“Oh my fucking god,” he moans against your skin. “I love you, angel. I need you.”

Lost in love and all of its intricacies, you whine and buck your hips up in sync with his, grinding your clit against his pelvis and sobbing at the galaxies you both are creating. Your own heaven to get lost in, where gods can’t spy and angels can’t judge. Where forgiveness is commonplace and greed is acceptable. Where family is who you choose it to be and love isn’t a tool for manipulation. Where everything is simple and pure and right.

And although Dabi is not a simple man and does not like simple things, Touya is learning that simplicity holds its own beauty worthy of loving.

The tenth time you call Dabi by his name, he’s ready to allow himself to be loved without any attachments, any suspicions, any ill will—the past, along with Dabi, have finally laid to rest.

“I love you, Touya,” you cry out, and he’s sure that it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. “I love you so much!”

You’re close to coming undone—he can feel how much your pussy is clamping down on him and how your voice becomes more and more distorted by hiccups and sobs. He just needs a little more, just a little more to add the finishing touches to your heaven and build a throne out of gold. Just a little more, just so he can relish in how sweet forgiveness tastes and how good it feels to no longer bear the burden of corruption.

“I love you too,” he whispers into your hair. “I love you more than anything in this world.”

His thrusts are becoming sloppier and sloppier with each passing minute, and he knows he’s only a few pumps away from spilling over. Cupping your face with his hands, he uses his thumb to brush away the tears streaming down your cheek and slots his lips against yours in a moment of heated passion.

“Cum, angel, cum for me,” he pleads, angling his cock brushes against scared places in you. “Cum for me, cum with me, just cum, baby, cum.”

Who would’ve known the creation of a new heaven could feel so sinful? Clutching his body to yours as much as you can, you cry out his name followed by a string of curses as your pussy milks him for every last drop he has. His bliss follows right after yours, and he bites down on your shoulder to keep himself from groaning too loudly so as to not drown out your melodic cries. Visions of gold and white and purity flash before his eyes as cock throbs inside of you.

His body goes limp on top of yours, breath shaky and bloody stars falling from his eyes. He thinks he can feel your fingers running through his hair, but he’s so high on simplicity and absolution he can’t seem to feel anything except your heart beating against his. Tender lips press against his sweaty temple, and he buries his face deeper into the crook of your neck.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles after a beat of silence. “For everything. I should’ve realized sooner. I…I should’ve been stronger.”

Delicately, you bring his face out of its hiding space to press your forehead against yours, examining the regret and hesitance dancing inside sapphire. “All that matters,” you whisper “is that you did realize. I’ll be your strength if you’re feeling weak. I’ll be your shoulder to cry on. There’s nothing to worry about. All is forgiven.”

And for the very first time in his life, Touya no longer feels like a sinner forced to bear the wrongdoings of a greedy man. He no longer feels like the product of selfishness and vanity gone awry. He no longer feels like a family secret buried in the backyard never to be spoken of or acknowledged.

Touya Todoroki feels like a man with his entire life ahead of him, an angel by his side and a heaven to come home to, and that, he thinks, is more than anyone with a past such as his can hope for.

#❀.mine #touya todoroki x reader #dabi x reader #touya x reader #todoroki x reader #touya todoroki smut #touya todoroki x you #toya todoroki x reader #toya todoroki x you #toya todoroki smut #dabi smut

[bitletsanddrabbles]

Okay, I lied. One last post before I take that much needed mental health break.

A post that I always swore - back before you could turn off reblogs and mute comments and basically make the lives of would be trolls very pointless, because you will never see what they say - I would never be stupid enough to make.

I leave you with my essay on…

Why Sparkly Vampires Make Perfect Sense, Stephanie Meyer Just Went About It All Wrong

Let's face it, humans don't always know what we're looking at. As an example, I was reading a book about poison use in royal courts. In the section on cures, in the subsection on unicorn horn (alicorn, for the technical term), it mentioned how the people who procured this rare substance were somewhat baffled by the fact that at the end of their lives the unicorn (which lived in such places as Africa, Persia, India, etc.) would migrate to the far north to die on the beaches of the arctic sea. Now, in their defense, it's very unlikely that any of these individuals would be well traveled enough to have even the opportunity to see both a live unicorn and a dead one. If they had, they might have had an easier time realizing 'these are two different animals!'. But the point still stands.

Humans don't always know what we're looking at.

Now, if you go through folk lore and mythology, you will, of course, find horrible blood sucking fiends that drain innocents of their life. Vampires. You will also find lots of entities which emit an ethereal luminescence or radiant glow, entities which possess powers beyond mortal understanding, who can be benign or terrible, and who are known to abscond with humans, although we're certain these humans are safe and happy on Olympus or under the green hill, not dead like they'd be with those blood suckers.

No one who had not seen both Apollo, God of the Sun, and the horrible vampire who chowed down on the neighbor two doors down would realize: they're the same entity.

To make it even harder for the poor mortals (and easier for the vampires!), vampires look different in different lighting conditions. After all, something that sparkles in the sunlight will also sparkle in the moonlight, the firelight, etc., it's just a matter of degrees. So some vampires would hang out in moonlit glens, for that 'fairy of the moonlight' feel, while others would set themselves up in temples with a many fires as they could manage. I mean, if you're going to call yourself Apollo, God of the Sun, you had better be all sparkle all of the time! Top all of this off with mind reading ability that lets traveling vampires fit into the local not-vampire-vampire mythos and yeah, the humans don't stand a chance.

It's great! Things are wonderful! Even if someone does see you devour a hapless victim and run screaming 'vampire' in the town, you can always just eat them next. No big deal. Only the stupid and careless are in real danger.

And then…

CALAMITY!

The head of the Roman Empire, that militant mass of well armed testosterone (and a bunch of less important people), converts to Christianity and proclaims there's only one god who is…not you.

Well shit.

Of course, if you're a lesser known vampire you can pass yourself off as an "Angel of the Lord" in a quick pinch, as long as you're talking to a peasant who's too illiterate to realize you're lacking in the eye and wing department (good news - this is most everyone), but you can't do that too often. And if everyone knows you as Apollo, God of the Sun?

Sucks to be you. You now have a bunch of very militant fundamentalists armed with sharp, pointy implements of destruction chasing after you with cries of 'demon' and 'false god'. Even with your supernatural speed, getting away from them is made far more difficult by the fact they can see you glittering from the other side of the market.

This is where vampires went nocturnal, since moonlight is less sparkle inducing than the sun. Then, since even that gets risky, they slowly moved into caves and cemeteries and the occasional creepy old castle that no sane person would enter without an explicit invitation to dinner, or for a real estate job. Something like that.

The next millennium was pretty dire. The millennium after that was…okay, also pretty dire, until suddenly, at the end of the twentieth century, a miracle! A remarkable shift brought about a change that would once again free vampires from their castles and cemeteries and allow them to walk safely among humans!

But they wouldn't go creeping off to the sun starved, water logged boonies of the Olympic rain forest. Oh hell no! They would go to the cities, to Soho, to Broadway, to places where they could strut proudly down the street to the envious stares of mortals and cries of "Damn, I wish I looked that good in body glitter!"

#okay NOW i'm on a mental health break

[respectthepetty]

I'm here to report on the colors in episode four of Wandee Goodday, but first a few stray thoughts like I have another image to add to my collection of Yak looking at Dee crazy,

yet still going along with whatever Dee wants.

Also, Yak being bothered that Dee didn't immediately think of him as a friend was a good beat in establishing the "friend" portion of their benefits. They are friends who share their lives with each other and scheme together, and I'm glad the show is explicitly stating that.

Because the way the conversation began paralleled the way Yak wants to approach Taem about their relationship - What are we? "Are we datin'? Are we fuckin'? Are we best friends? Are we somethin' in between that?"

But also the nurse stating Yak must care a lot for his lover to get the vaccine and Yak looking immediately at Dee was perfection because 1) safe sex isn't just about you but about the people you are sleeping with,

2) you shouldn't be ashamed of caring about sexual health, so even if you hide behind queer pamphlets, drink water, get the shot, wear the condoms, and use the lube. Also, PrEP isn't just for men just like HPV vaccinations aren't just for women, and

3) it showed that Yak does care enough about DEE, his lover, to take their sexual health seriously -> Yak is on that Bed Friend's King level of sexy, and I'd go through the entire Kama Sutra with them both once all our test results came back clear.

Translations are always iffy but Ter mentioning that Dee wasn't thinking about his professional persona while Yak reminded Dee to not include his face in the pictures and Yei mentioned his brother being fine with Cher when they first started dating gives me hope that this show is going to lean more into the layers of being out because even though that "666" told me Ter was el diablo, he continues to make comments like that and Golf's other show, The Eclipse (which has been featured often in this show) was very much about (not) passing and levels of outness.

Yei and Yak's dad was a world champion boxer, yet he wasn't mentioned in this mom-focused episode and the mom is the one who opened the gym, so is the space that Cher and Yei are giving Yak to figure his feelings out something they weren't given by the father? Because Cher was worried about the pressure Yei was putting on Yak to move up a class.

And if the gym was the mom's, with all of its yellow, is Yak really like his mom as Dee assumed?

Because putting the opening scenes in black and white is an easy flashback technique, but in this particular story, where Yak and his mom are bright yellow, it was a painfully good choice to take the color and brightness out of the scene.

And it was an even better choice to parallel Dee comforting Yak in the same way Yak comforted him with a warmer (yellow) light than his normal purple one.

Because Dee is already in his feelings about Yak without realizing how deep he was, which is why he is wearing a soft yellow while Yak is wearing Dee's fake blue.

When they practiced what Yak would say to Taem, Dee thought about all their moments together, so he is falling quickly, while the signs are pointing out that Yak isn't there yet.

But I wouldn't be there either if I was still daydreaming about this beautiful goddess who always rescues Yak with her brilliance, sassy personality, singular focus, and yellow folders, but that sounds a lot like someone else.

A Purple Prince who is also brilliant and focused on winning but wild and sassy. Good to know Yak has a type. (Sidenote: the music choices swinging between romantic to tension-filled as the scene flipped between Taem and Dee was another great choice)

Because Taem is taken, even if not officially. She matches her guy. She had on a dark brown and black shirt, so he had on a dark brown cardigan with a black tie.

And she had on a brown-striped shirt with a black star, and he had on a brown jacket with black writing and a black tie.

Then again, Dee is no consolation prize. Not looking like that at least.

No wonder Yak is conflicted about what he feels when he looks at Dee because he most certainly is sexually attracted to him because *duh* who wouldn't be attracted to Dee (TER!), but as they sit in Yak's black and yellow room, it becomes more apparent that whatever he is feeling isn't just sexual desire.

And when Dee scratches his back just like his mom used to while tutoring him, it starts to become clearer that Dee, wearing his necklace, and in orange which is sooooo close to yellow fits easily into his life. (Sidenote: Together with Me taught me that in Thai, being itchy is slang for being horny, so good for this show and its layers)

Dee works so well in Yak's life that Yak is willing to get three shots to continue to have sex with him which can take anywhere from eight months to over a year to complete because each dose is spaced out by at least two-to-six months. Basically, Yak committed to a long-term plan . . . with Dee, who is chilling in his yellow-striped shirt.

So it's not surprising that Yak is wearing a deeper blue next week as he holds Dee on the couch since he is far more invested in this fake relationship than he originally intended.

I could write 5,000 more posts about them and this episode which I probably will.

But know that even though the blue Yak is wearing is getting deeper, I will not be satisfied until it turns into purple.

That's when I'll know they are both in love.

#wandee goodday #the colors mean things #color coded boys in love #purple is queer #and Wandee and Yak are gonna be queer af #I'M SO EXCITED! #so excited that I'm putting myself in danger #I gotta chill out #my expectations are so high #what if I don't get purple on Yak? #I'll cry a thousand tears y'all #I'll never recover #don't hurt me show #I have faith you will deliver!

[jolieblack]

Something finally came to me! (I usually can’t write to prompts to save my life.)

May Prompts 2024 by @calaisreno

May 24th: Imperfect

We've always done things the wrong way round.

We moved in together at a time when we knew no more than four or five facts about each other. Significant facts, granted, such as John being a war veteran and me having no patience with idiots, but neither of us could have claimed to have had anything even close to the full picture at the time. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if either of us had. Only on my really bad days, though.

I don’t have all that many of those any more, luckily. And when I do, I have plenty of good memories to help me pull myself up again. Take the ones of how we confessed our love to each other to a beautifully decorated room full of people in festive dress and in even more festive spirit, to much applause and cheering and well-wishing. Yes, you heard that plural right. Those are two separate memories, years apart and in two different places. I got to go first, and it wasn’t even me who was getting married at the time. That’s another thing that most couples would do differently. Coordinate it a bit better, at least.

The second time around, as a lot of you will remember well, it was John's turn to talk, and I‘d been told in no uncertain terms to keep my mouth shut and say nothing, not even to correct his grammar, till he was done. I can now attest that it is true that the groom never gets to have a say in anything at his own wedding. Someone got his late revenge there. And believe me, that doesn’t depend on whether it’s one groom or two. Yes, and I know there are still people out there even in this day and age who feel that it’s not normal to have two grooms at all. They can all go away and never show their ugly faces again where I can see them, or smell the foul breath of the bigoted filth they’re spouting. That’s not the wrong way around, that couldn’t be more right for both of us.

But we did other things the wrong way around, too. In most romantic stories, killing someone to save the person you love is usually the culmination of long mutual trust and dedication. It‘s supposed to be the crowning glory, the final sealing of a bond that has long been in the making. It’s not supposed to be the starting point. And John is usually the more patient of the two of us, but when it came to this, he could barely contain himself for 36 hours after our very first meeting before he did it. Ever heard of timing and pacing, Doctor, I hear you people wonder? And he’s supposed to be the one with the talent for good storytelling. The timing was good, though. The timing was excellent. There’s another 'what if' for you that is no fun to contemplate at all.

There is killing out of love, and - I have to say it, I can’t not, I‘d be lying by omission if I didn't - there's also dying out of love. I doubt, however, that there’s anyone out there who has ever put a more elaborate effort into pretending to die out of love than I have. As far as I‘m aware, that’s not really a romantic convention, either, and I sincerely hope I haven’t started a trend. I honestly can’t recommend it. Effort is well and good, and I dare say the execution in my case was flawless, but I can’t deny there was a certain lack of forethought as to the emotional impact on both parties concerned. Don‘t try this at home, folks.

People also usually date first, then start cohabiting, then get married, then raise children together. Please don’t ask me to define at what time in our lives exactly John and I were dating and when we weren’t yet. To this day we have never been able to agree on a definition for this mysterious activity that emphatically, according to John, for whatever reason, does not encompass two people who like each other going out together and having fun. But it is an undisputed fact that we had been raising a child together for a good while before we got married. And we have been going out together and having fun for years uncounted now. Crime scenes never fail to work that particular magic on us. Oh wait, no, that was another example I had on my list for what most other couples do differently. Hang on, do I see a certain Chief Inspector of Scotland Yard raise his hand in objection? Raising both hands, actually, showing us… what, seven fingers? Is that the number of couples working for the Metropolitan Police that you know personally who have met at crime scenes? Or are you reminding us of the number of times John and I were actually kicked off a crime scene because we were enjoying ourselves entirely too much, and were told not to come back till we could behave like adults? I could have sworn those were more than seven occasions, but I‘ll take your word for it.

Talking of raising a child together, I‘m sure Rosie will say a word or three about that herself later, but I have never understood why most of you had doubts about the practicability of that particular endeavour. Let me just tell you that a baby carrier is entirely compatible with a cashmere scarf, or didn’t you know cashmere can absorb up to a third of its own dry weight in liquid? And it got only easier from there when Rosie grew older and stopped affectionately drooling on whoever enjoyed the happy privilege of holding her and carrying her around. She hasn’t demanded being carried around in a good while now, and I don’t know what our poor old backs would say to that these days. But we were talking about happy memories, weren’t we, so there’s another. And at least in the metaphorical sense, I hope you know, Rosie, that you’ll be held and carried for as long as you want and need, as long as we both live. You were my daughter even before I was your father’s husband, and that has been one of the greatest honours bestowed on me in my life.

Because this is who we are, isn’t it, our crazy little family, where nothing is as you’d expect it to be. But we still wouldn’t have it any other way, topsy-turvy, weird, flawed and utterly imperfect, but also utterly us, unique, one of a kind. I don’t know if it was fate that threw us together, or if it really was just a whim on the part of the comfortable, corpulent, bespectacled gentleman sitting at this table over here, smirking with his trademark benevolence. But there’s a debt of gratitude to be paid there, and today is a good day to do it. In this at least, we’re doing the conventional thing, but who’s to say we’re not allowed to do that at least once in a quarter-century.

So, ladies and gentlemen, dear friends and family from far and wide, I give you: John Watson, the man of my life, the man at my side for over thirty years, and for exactly twenty-five years in the legal sense on this very day. Please raise your glasses with us to the next twenty-five. And for God’s sake stop snivelling like that, Mycroft. You’re embarrassing the whole room.

#bbc sherlock #may prompts 2024 #mayprompts2024 #jolie writes #imperfect #bbc sherlock fanfiction #johnlock #old married couple #johnlock fanfiction

[snivyartjpeg]

Yuma Month Day 26 - Role Swap

god i was excited for this one. it first started off as a joke, but the more i thought about it, the more interesting this swap became. so here's my massive lore dump of changes that'd happen in the story beneath the cut (spoiler warning):

i think, fundamentally, yuma and yakou are very similar characters. they're both very protective and kindhearted, with a strong sense of justice and a penchant for attracting terrible luck. because of this, some things would remain the same, such as the NDA's dynamics with their doormat chief as well amnesia!yakou's massive unpaid intern energy. i think yakou would be pretty similar to how he behaved in the light novel- a bit more optimistic and naive, like yuma. but there are two key differences between them that'd make this a different story, especially in ch 4: yuma has a forte, and yakou is very selfish. so here's some changes:

yakou's wife is his shinigami now, as you can see, while shinigami is yuma's dead wife. i think mrs furio would act cooler than shinigami. she'd still be playful, but she takes her job more seriously. also she hands yakou the solution keys normally without throwing up. they still have to do the dance and mouth sword thing tho. and the other stuff. that's just death god protocol

shinigami (or in this case the unnamed Mrs. Kokohead but i will still be calling her shinigami for convenience sake) was a scientist at amaterasu who studied forensics and thanatology instead of regenerative medicine. this also means that the pill she gives zombie yuma is not going to bring him back, but instead grant the zombie homunculi a peaceful, painless, but permanent death

speaking of zombie yuma, he's the homunculus now! yakou is 100% human and also doesnt have a forte. he's still number one, but instead of having a forte he's just that good at solving mysteries

yes this means makoto looks like yakou now. sorry makotoheads. i think he'd have really long, shaggy hair dyed to be like. idk. black or something. also he's more clean shaven bc stubble with a mask on is a sensory nightmare

yuma still cant cook. he subsists entirely on takeout, meat buns, black coffee, and beer. he's still in a lot of debt and under a lot of stress and his personality is essentially "what if canon number one just gave up"

he doesn't smoke though. he tried once and got into the worst coughing fit

imma say it right now. kurumi is not a love interest. yakou likely disguises himself as a faculty member instead (also i think one of the teachers gets a crush on fem yakou bc i just know she'd be hot)

ANYWAY what about chapter 4? im SO glad you asked! because here's where things get spicy!

so, lets start with the dead wife. shinigami catches onto huesca's inhumane research and she's just as adamant about bringing the truth to light as she always is. she blows the whistle, so he blows her up. yuma investigates, but they dont let him look any further, yada yada, yuma stews in his misery for five years

yomi sends in the evidence to motivate yuma to kill huesca, and makoto lets it happen because a dead huesca would be convenient. he even introduces the hitman, fully expecting yuma to make use of him

yuma doesnt. in fact, he wants to kill huesca with his own hands. and now that these detectives are here, he can do it and even return alive. the thing is, he doesn't want to put them in danger, so he chooses to do almost everything alone (sound familiar?)

his plan is simple:

ask desuhiko for a peacekeeper uniform. desuhiko trusts him enough to take "i want to investigate kanai ward's ultimate secret by infiltrating their ranks" as an answer. he does, however, let yakou know about this as an offhand comment before the mystery ever begins

hold fubuki's hand. it doesnt really matter how. she'll gladly allow it because she's fubuki. he stores her time powers and heads out the sub. yakou also learns this as an offhand comment played off as a joke (maybe fubuki affectionately comments about how she never expected the chief's hands to be so soft... idk. there has to be some way for yakou to have this as a future clue)

use his peacekeeper status to sneak into amaterasu HQ and demand a functioning ama-pal from that one creepy researcher

use ama-pal + fubuki's borrowed powers to bypass huesca's security. sneak the bot past the hard-of-hearing doctor and press the button to shut off security

this would probably alert huesca, but since the doctor never received a warning, yuma has enough time to rush in and stab him before he realizes what's going on

leave HQ while still in uniform, dispose of the disguise once he's safe, and return to the NDA like nothing happened. success!

soooo.... yakou, on that same day, decides to investigate amaterasu HQ with makoto

all the while, vivia has his suspicions about yuma's actions and keeps an eye on him in spectral mode. he... basically witnessed the whole thing, so he gets up off his ass and decides to follow yakou to the lab because he has a Very Bad Feeling about this

just like canon, he senses the death god and deduces that our protag has been killing off murderers, and so he wants to protect his chief as well as his peace and quiet (his dynamic with yuma would be the same as his dynamic with yakou, since it's entirely believable for yuma to treat vivia with the same kindness yakou did)

yakou tries to speak to huesca, but surprise! security is disabled and he's dead in the lab! no one else at amaterasu liked huesca enough to check on him, so yakou and makoto are the first ones at the scene of the crime. yakou, of course, decides to start investigating this murder

vivia somehow sneaks into the lab (dont ask me how) and confronts yakou, threatening him with his boxcutter and adamantly imploring him to stop pursuing this particular mystery in the same way he did yuma in canon. unfortunately, this attracts attention, and now they're in trouble (maybe even yomi's there to fetch his files). at this point, yakou has enough solution keys, so he panics and goes right into the labyrinth (and maybe others can enter for another reason that isnt coalescence idk)

so... they go in the labyrinth... vivia tries to stop him every step of the way, until the answer is right in front of them

yakou kills yuma with his own hands. there's no stab wounds or toxic gas to leave any doubt. yakou begins to question what good his justice really does. it doesnt even save them from their predicament, just like the other deaths. instead, makoto ex machina comes in to save them, and hands yakou a small black box

when they return to the agency, everyone is heartbroken over their chief, who seemingly died out of nowhere. fubuki tried rewinding time, but to no avail. halara tried everything to wake him up, knowing it's futile. desuhiko stood aside, feeling completely helpless. and yakou and vivia return looking like they just came back from hell

they barely get the chance for a funeral before the knockout gas trap activates... you know the rest

AAAAND SCENE! so that's my extremely long winded lore dump about this au. i thought about it Way Too Much but god it's so interesting to me. i love these characters and swapping them was immensely fun

#rain code #mdarc #raincode #master detectives archives: rain code #yuma kokohead #yakou furio #desuhiko thunderbolt #shinigami #yumagami #kokogami #yakou's wife #rain code spoilers #mdarc spoilers #raincode spoilers

[tcustodisart]

What are some cute moments that occur throughout the different acts that aren’t necessarily in the game but live in your head rent free?

Oh, this one is going to be a long answer, because there's a lot of squatters in my head and there's a lot to be unleashed. Let's start with this doodle with the boys playing lanceboard at camp and continue under the cut. Lots of cringe and brainrot incoming, so brace yourself.

Act 1:

Connie is constantly bickering with Astarion over him stealing his journal. Gale suggest to cast arcane lock on it, but Connie knows it won't stop that gremlin from reading it so why bother.

This sad pile of rugs is where I imagine Connie sleeps in Act 1. Additional Astarion line: "Damn darling, you live like this?"

During the first romance scene Connie tells Shart about his family, about how he and his brother know the city inside and out, about his parents and the tavern they run, about the trap incident. It's the most he talked to someone who wasn't his family or his crow in years. He wishes that night would never end.

Connie sends letters to his family via Faust, he stops after entering Underdark.

Act 2:

I mentioned it before that Connie is not taking the Shadow Curse very well. He misses the sun, misses the grass, he's unable to contact his family, Shart has distanced herself from him. Karlach notices it and tries to cheer him up. They end up having long talks almost every night. That's the moment their friendship evolves from just friends to besties.

When Connie finds the second warding bond ring, he wishes he could give the other one to Shadowheart, but finds the moment inappropriate. He ends up giving her the ring at the beginning of Act 3.

Act 3:

I have a lot of stuff for this act.

This is inspired by one of Jaheira's lines: "'The Cub and the Crow'- sounds like a cautionary tale. As it probably should." Connie draws her a mock up cover for a kids book. Jaheira sticks it to the traveling chest (I mostly store food there, so to me traveling chest = fridge).

Connie goes through a serious breakdown at the start of this act (after a companion is abducted), he ends up crying and saying that for the first time he doesn't believe they're going to make it, that he'll never hug his mom, never hear his brother sing again, won't be able to tell his step dad that he saw Darkmaw the Wicked. He's being comforted first by Jaheira and then by the rest of his party.

His favorite armor gets damaged one time, he's very upset about it. But the next morning he finds it magically repaired (Astarion fixed it, from the start of Act 3 they become besties).

This wip that I'm very slowly working on happens during act 3. Connie makes some flower crowns and talks about how his mom taught him to do that. I'm not going to say more, because I really want to finish that comic.

Connie has a deal with Popper that he'll pay him double for every night orchid he finds (I actually did that in game, I bantered him more money for the flower than he asked for, I love that little guy so much).

This one is more funny than cute but when Connecticut Tav was younger and still lived in Baldur's Gate he used to visit Sharess's Caress pretty regularly because it was the best way to practice drawing people. He really enjoyed talking with the workers there, he eventually convinced them that maybe creating an union isn't such a bad idea. He ended up being banned from entering the brothel because of that. So when the party approaches it to meet Voss, he's very nervous that the owner will remember him (she does). There's a dialogue in my head but it would work better with some visuals, so maybe one time I'm going to draw it.

In my head, the cottage they end up living in is Connie's old hunting hut. So after the conversation with Shadowheart about her plans for after defeating the brain, he suggest that it would be the perfect place to go. He then draws the house to show her how it looks like, tells her that it's surrounded by a forest, there's a lake nearby, a small stable that can be turned into a barn if needed, and that he's not sure about the quality of the soil, but he did grow some herbs there, so maybe it's going to be good enough to grow flowers.

At the end of the game Connie decides to stay in Baldur's Gate for a while to help his family fix their tavern (which was heavily damaged). He tells Shart to go the house I mentioned before, because he wants her to start her new life as soon as possible + because it would be better for her parents. He stealthily puts his journal in her stuff with a note attached to it saying that he finished it this morning and she can read it if she wants to. He also gives her Faust so she can write him letters whenever she wants to. After 2 tendays he arrives at the cottage with some gifts (night orchid bulbs and a pamphlet about how to take care of them, there was supposed to be another gift, but he wasn't able to find it just yet, but that's for another story).

Epilogue party (because I'm that insane):

It's been sitting in my wips for more than two months, so I don't know if I'll be able to finish it. But during the party Connie and Shadowheart take 10 minute brake to visit the place from the first romance scene. They have a very similar conversation like before, but their roles are reversed now - It's Connie asking questions about Shart's current life. "Tell me something about yourself, but no tadpoles, weird artifacts, petty goddesses. Something about you."

#ask me anything #bg3 #connecticut tav #oh oof this took some time #but know this annon I am giving you a kiss on the cheek and I'm paying for our imaginary kids' collage for asking this question

[correctproseka]

An essay on autistic Mafuyu

Coming from a very autistic person.

Mafuyu has a bunch of autism symptoms, but a lot of them can also be explained by other reasons, such as her upbring and trauma, but not all of them, so I'm going to start speaking about the explainable by other things traits and move up to "boy you're tism". (Notw that the trauma explanation can also have a pre-disposition to happen due to tism)

In the biggest "can be explained by her trauma" category, we actually have the biggest reason people headcanon her as autistic. Her Alexithymia. Which is just a fancy word for "can't recognize her own feelings". No i did not have to copy paste that name to not write it wrong. Yes, many autistic people are bad at recognizing their own feelings, me included. But we also have to note that Mafuyu absolutely hid away those feelings for a mask and because they were needs not being met, a "good girl" like her doesnt get sad or angry right? Thats what made her push down those feelings so much she just ended up.. numb. Its extremely common in depression as well as autism which made me personally not realize i was depressed until someone made me put it into words, it was similar to my normal.

Theres also her.. exquisite vocabulary, Mafuyu uses lots of fancy terms sometimes, which is very stereotypical white boy autism. But also, she was pushed books down her throat by her mom since she was a child, she was expected to be this "fancy" and "smart-sounding". So she is.

Observant. Mafuyu doesn't talk a lot, she observes. She can recognize things on others sometimes, but mostly about the environment, which can be an autism noticing a bird singing 5 blocks away or a trauma "i need to notice this or i get fucked" reaction.

Mafuyu as mentioned, tends to listen more than speak, I am personally not this kind of autism, but it exists, Mafuyu is quiet, listening and only speaking when she feels her input is needed. This can be simply a mixture of autism and trauma. She doesn't feel the need to speak, so she doesn't, why would she waste her energy like that? Smh.. but also her good girl mask is supposed to be a good listener, not much of a yapper.

Now we are starting to move onto the things she does that are less explained by trauma and more explained by tism. Which is my favorite part to analyze.

Parallel play: Mafuyu seeks comfort with being with niigo and working alongside them, she doesn't even need to be talking, as seen by the kitty event where she kept just listening to them on earphones, she just wants to be near her people and gets calmed down by being with them.

Bluntness. As an autistic person i am extremely blunt in wrong situations, and can easily not recognize its the wrong situation. Per example Mafuyu's "why dont you imagine you're gonna get killed if you dont do it in half an hour" or all the times she points something out to Ena and gets a scream back because it was the wrong time? Mafuyu says what she thinks and when out of the mask she really. Really. Lacks a filter, because she doesn't know when or what she's supposed to speak or not

She.. kind of needs people to say the obvious? Sometimes she doesnt realize whats going on, why she's reacting in a way, so and so. One of the reasons Mizuki had to tell her it's ok to run away. Mafuyu never considered it. It wasn't obvious for her like it would be for a lot of people, she's kind of very oblivious in emotional matters like that, and needs someone (coughs usually Mizuki) to explain something to her

There's probably more but im doing this in like 15 minutes.

Plus, all in all, she makes autistic people like me really relate to her, even if they can be mostly explained by trauma doesnt mean she doesn't show those signs or that they're only because of that, even the mask she uses is a known neurodivergent thing.

#project sekai #proseka #prosekai #colorful stage #pjsekai #puroseka #asahina mafuyu

[copperbadge]

I always enjoy writing updates on the royal family in these books, but I am having such fun expanding Simon's character and writing his banter with Ylias. I haven't gotten to write an older character who doesn't start out visibly struggling, and Simon's just kind of a dude who loves romance and enjoys being functionally king of chefs in Fons-Askaz.

Simon and Ylias had what I'm calling a "Ene-meet" over some cheese and the next time she saw him she called him Mr. Ricotta (I may try and make this better -- I'd like some kind of French pun where she basically calls him "white guy" while also calling him some form of cheese) and while they've since mostly buried the hatchet because they have to work together on the Reclamation Day festival, they are both enjoying pretending they're still smarting over it.

"Can you do all this..." Ylias gestured at their lists, "for Reclamation Day and also do the catering? Because I feel like we do throw around at least enough weight to make someone else take that over."

"Hm, there is a lot to supervise. A practical consideration, thank you," he said, absently flipping through his own notes. "I will find someone reliable enough to serve His Majesty but also young enough to still be impressed by the request. Which leaves remaining only the cooking competition."

"Not to complain, but this seems like a really random thing to have at Reclamation Day," Ylias said. "It's not a village fete or something."

"It began as a sort of grudge, years ago," he said. "Two cooks had a dispute; they declared to decide for one or the other on Reclamation Day -- in public, with the public's help in settling the matter. It proved very popular, and of course if there are a dozen people all competing, the results can be sold for funds for charity."

"So we're supposed to set this up, set the theme, and source the judges," Ylias said.

"Set-up is already arranged -- the judging tent is always in the same place. They only have to bring in their example of the challenge recipe and lay it out."

"I guess it's a little on the nose for this year's theme to be like...an Eddie Rambler classic recipe."

He smiled. "We may consider it but also, consider: are you aware of..." his voice dropped. "The Trash Tower?"

She nodded.

"Imagine a tent full of examples of Shivadh twists on the Trash Tower," he said.

"It doesn't look like Dante's inferno, but it doesn't not," she said. "Maybe another thing we want to ask about at the next meeting?"

"I think so. For judges, usually a member of the royal family, but also then someone who knows food, and sometimes a famous person if one can get one."

"Can we?"

"I would as soon not," LeFevre replied, which Ylias couldn't argue with. "I think perhaps for the royals, Princeps Joan would like to judge. Or if her fathers would prefer she does not, Duke Gerald. He would pretend it was his little one judging, give her some of everything to try, pretend he knows what she says. Very funny."

"Want me to tap someone with food chops from the town?" Ylias asked.

"Yes, but speak with me before you ask them, just to be sure."

"Yep, I wouldn't mind a road map to all the faux pas I could make," she muttered.

"Ah, well. I wouldn't let anyone cut you; I've already seen you at your worst and it is frankly somewhat mild," he said.

"I think I'm almost more insulted about being considered mediocre than I am that you won't let it go," she replied.

"We all need time to recover our wounds," he said gravely. "Another few years, perhaps, and I will begin to consider healing."

"Man, I didn't know calling you Mr. Ricotta would devastate you so completely."

He closed the notebook with a snap, smiling.

"And I must somehow go on, and fetch my groceries," he said.

#shivadhverse

[zukosdualdao]

i know some people take the moment of azula speaking up in the flashback to the war meeting in sozin's comet as azula trying to "protect zuko" after he starts (while carefully choosing his words) disagreeing with ozai, but i really can't see it that way.

even aside from the fact that i don't think we should ever argue that her advocating for genocide here was a good thing, based on everything else about their relationship, i can't see this moment as anything but her once again trying to establish dominance and superiority over zuko. it actually reminds me of a different scene, all the way back from the flashbacks in zuko alone.

in both situations, ozai is testing his children in a way, and when zuko can't or won't give the "right answer", azula interjects and is able to say exactly what he wants to hear.

in zuko alone, of course, ozai is asking them questions that seem to be related to whatever (heavily inundated with propaganda, clearly) schooling they get. something that i find really interesting is that zuko doesn't seem to only struggle with firebending, but with his schooling as well. which isn't exactly surprising: abused kids often have trouble in school, and that seems particularly likely when ozai is already treating zuko like he is weak, incompetent, and unworthy in other areas. it's a self-fulling prophecy, on ozai's part: he demeans zuko for not being good at firebending (and perhaps for not being good in school), and, because kids are very naturally going to clam up and not get better at something when they're treated as worthless for any perceived flaw, it affects his ability to build his skills or performance in school.

but i think there's also a way in which zuko probably struggles to keep up in school because he's receptive to the values ursa tries to instill in him from a young age. he probably doesn't realize the things they are learning are things that are morally wrong, but there's a way, at this point, in which he can't relate to them, can't understand the motives of why it would be considered a good thing to defeat an enemy in such a brutal way when it runs so counter to the values of kindness ursa is trying to instill in her children, be it by explaining that throwing bread at turtleducks is not nice or that we shouldn't wish death on other family members.

by contrast, the emphasis on azula here is that she's clearly fully bought into the propaganda, that she respects and admires the brutality of the tactics. (also, is it just me, or does she sound a little like she's reciting a textbook, albeit with a lot of glee?) and notably, at the end, when she gets the answer 'right', she side-eyes zuko with a smug smirk. just like she does in sozin's comet as she's told she's right.

just for comparison's sake:

the situation in the sozin's comet flashback is different, of course, because they're not being quizzed on their schoolwork so much as they are being asked to put what they've learned about war and tactics into practice. zuko has a lot more understanding now than he did as a much younger child of the realities of war because he's seen it up close. and because of that, not only can he not condone or suggest any of the brutal and egregious tactics that are clearly expected of him, but he actually says something in defense of the earth kingdom, albeit trying to choose his words carefully, and with ozai (quite possibly willfully?) misinterpretating them.

to suggest that azula is protecting zuko here is its own form of a willful misinterpretation. you have to ignore the entire context of their relationship, azula's established motivations, and the tone of the scene itself to come to that conclusion. she does not interrupt zuko to keep him from saying something that will get him hurt, but because she wants to prove once again that she's better, that she's right and he's wrong, that he’ll never catch up. but zuko is starting to realize that he doesn’t and shouldn’t want to.

#atla #zuko #azula #ozai #abuse // #zuko & ozai #zuko & azula #my meta