Tumgik
#(minus the shirt though I do wish I owned it)
ruified · 2 months
Text
❝ a 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕 ˎˊ˗
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warnings: nsfw/smut, light bondage, oral (giving), swallowing cum, established relationship, bottom! dazai, gn! reader . characters: dazai osamu . synopsis: your birthday is around the corner and your loving boyfriend would like to give you an extra special gift . a/n: this is my birthday present to myself and to you guys
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For weeks now your boyfriend has been teasing you with some grand gift for your birthday. Every day he brings it up and rambles on and on about how wonderful it is, about how much you’ll love it, about how you’ll just be showering him with praise for thinking of such a meaningful gift! He has, in the meantime, dropped a few hints here and there pertaining to the contents of this very special gift, none of which actually go together or make a lick of sense.
On one particular day of these grueling weeks, he comes up behind you and places his hands on your shoulders, long, slender fingers falling like a waterfall before curling into the fabric of your shirt. He peers at you from behind, a grin playing on his features. “So, tell me, what is your shoe size?”
A bit caught off guard, you slowly answer him, then tack on a question of your own: “Why are you asking me that?” Then, something devilish washes over Dazai’s expression as his grin curls something more mischievous. “Why, it’s for your present, of course! It is imperative that I know such information!”
You blink a few times, allowing the situation to settle in your mind, you sigh and decide to brush it off.
Finally, your birthday has rolled around. You’ve spent the day getting birthday wishes and a few gifts from your friends, albeit at work. Now, all that’s left is for you to return home to your loving boyfriend and see what he could possibly have in store for you now!
You stand outside the door to your apartment for a good minute, pondering if you should go inside, and if you do enter, what you could possibly expect to see. However, considering this is Dazai, it’s not exactly possible to even guess if any of your expectations will be met. You let out a deep breath, set your composure, and unlock the door.
Upon entering your shared living space, you find the lights are off and it is far too dark to see much of anything. However, you can make out the faint silhouette of your lover, though he looks shorter than usual. You brush your hand against the wall until you find the light switch, and then…
Oh dear…
You find Dazai, your dear boyfriend, sitting on one of the kitchen chairs, bound up with a pretty red ribbon, the roll of excess ribbon on the floor by his feet. He’s wearing his normal work attire, minus his trenchcoat, however, his tie is loosened and the collar of his shirt is spread open to reveal his bandage-covered neck and clavicle. His ankles are tied together by the red bow and tucked away under the chair he sat in. His wrists rest in his lap, bound together in a much more messy fashion, teeth marks straining the ribbon as evidence of his efforts. Each plush thigh is wrapped in ribbon with a beautiful bow, the red fabric pushing into the flesh waiting beneath sand-colored slacks. One bow is tied neatly in the middle of his chest, though it is a bit lopsided, making him look like a present. A present just for you. This is what he was referring to when he said you’d be praising him, because you certainly would.
You drop your belongings by the door and saunter over to your little gift, a warm feeling rising in your body. A sultry grin sweeps over Dazai’s face as you get closer to him. “Welcome home, sweetheart.” He coos in a low tone. His voice is like honey, sweet and soothing, but sticky, easy to get trapped and lost in. Dazai has certainly trapped you.
You slowly trace your finger up Dazai’s thigh and hook it under the ribbon, tugging it upwards roughly. “Is this the present you’ve been raving about? You?” You lean down towards him as you speak, your other hand sliding up his chest to his shoulder, moving the fabric of his shirt and generating some friction. You move to stand with your legs on either side of him before dropping into his lap, straddling him. You slide your hips forward until they crash into Dazai’s, you can feel heat beginning to pool in your crotch, like two stars colliding in a powerful burst of light—beautiful and oh-so dangerous.
Dazai nods and allows his eyelashes to flutter against the tops of his cheeks twice. “Happy birthday, my dear.” He leans his face closer to yours, his breath tickling against your skin. “I hope you enjoy your gift.”
Immediately, your hands slide down to the tightening bulge that stirs in Dazai’s pants, waiting just for you. You palm at it while maintaining your present’s gaze—though, his gaze is beginning to falter as he starts to squirm beneath your touch. It’s painfully obvious that Dazai adores the attention from you, he seeks you out like a moth to the flame and entrusts you with his pleasure.
A long groan pushes its way past Dazai’s lips, parting them like petals on a flower when the sun rises—sweet and soft. You can’t help but close the canyon-of-a-gap between you two with a hungry kiss and a good tug on his bottom lip with your teeth, earning you another groan.
You break the kiss sloppily and pull away. Your hands venture to the ribbon wrapped around Dazai’s chest and you begin to caress the satin with your fingertips. “Can I unwrap this gift of mine?” Your lashes flutter on your cheeks, your voice smooth and sultry. Your lover nods and reclines, relaxing his body. “Of course.”
You smile softly, almost bashfully, and pick up one end of the ribbon. You tug on it until the bow loosens and unravels. You slide your finger under the buttons of the brunette’s shirt and pop them open slowly, one by one going down. Opening his shirt up, your fingers glide over his abdomen and chest. His skin is warm and delicate, at least, from what you can feel between the lapses in his bandages. You lean in closer and open your mouth before his chest, as if you were hesitating to take your first bite—your breath tickles his skin, making him squirm but just barely, it’s hardly noticeable. Finally, the warmth of your tongue graces his body as you lap at his nipple.
The feeling of your lips sucking his nipple makes Dazai feel hot, it makes his muscles tense and ache for more—it’s almost painful, really. Alas, he can’t do anything to pleasure himself or really touch you much, his wrists are still bound together rather tightly. The longer he has to wait, the tighter the ribbon feels and the more aware of said feeling he becomes.
You release him and sit up straight, a grin spreading across your lips slowly. You push off of him and kneel down in front of his legs. You reach forward and push his knees apart, immediately filling the space with your head. Your fingers brush against his erection briefly, enough to elicit a shudder and a quiet moan from those lips you love so much. The sounds he makes always make you want to devour him, to taste those sweet lips and remind him, and your own body, that he’s yours. You undo the buckle of his belt and tug it out from the loops, tossing it to the floor with a jingle and a small clatter. Your fingers fiddle with the fly of his pants, though your clumsiness is for show, it's all to tease Dazai even more with what he could have and what he wants. Finally the zipper is pulled down and some of that horrible tightness is relieved from the man, leaving him to moan softly in satisfaction.
Your fingers hook under the waistbands of his pants and underwear before you tug them down together, shifting the ribbon tied in bows on Dazai’s thighs, revealing his aching cock to you. It certainly has more length than girth, but you don’t mind that either, it always manages to hit just the right spots, like it was made just for you. You wrap your fingers around the base of his length and lean in, your lips barely an inch away from it. Your tongue flicks against the tip and you look up. Dazai is watching rather intently, his face slightly twisted as he tries to contain his pleasure. He bit his quivering lip and squinted, he wanted to still keep his eyes on you but he was having trouble. You rub his thigh slowly with your hand, comforting–or perhaps coaxing–him. “You don’t have to hold back, you know I love to hear your pretty little voice…” Your breath hits his cock as you whisper to him, it’s enough to make him let go of his lip and allow a sweet, small moan pass by his now parted lips. “Ah, fuck… you really do have me under your thumb.” Dazai mutters with a grin, though it's weak–he’s weak right now.
Maintaining eye contact with him, you open your mouth again after tucking your hair behind your ear neatly. You lean in and lick up the entirety of his length slowly, taking it all in. God, does he taste amazing. His hips subconsciously buck upward towards your mouth—towards more pleasure—startling you a bit, but you have to admit it’s rather cute how desperate he is.
Once you reach the tip, you slowly and softly kiss it once, then twice, then a third time. On the third kiss, you begin to suck the tip slowly, hollowing your cheeks slightly. Your soft lips are like caresses to him, they’re warm and so inviting. What tempts him even more is the way you take his cock in your mouth about halfway and no further, it makes him wish he could push your head down all the way and feel the warmth of your mouth envelope his length completely. He does reach his bound hands up and place them on the top of your head, scratching at your scalp gently. “Oh, dearest, you make me feel so good and yet unsatisfied—I so desperately want more.” Dazai praises as an attempt to sway you into giving in to him. A smirk sweeps across your features and your eyes narrow, gazing almost sadistically at your lover. “Maybe you should just wait, or, perhaps you could beg for it?”
Dazai doesn’t answer, so you get back to your work: slowly sucking him off. You keep his gaze locked with yours throughout, you want to make sure he’s watching you. He groans and his fingers curl in your hair, bunching it into his fists. You ensure to drag out each swipe of your tongue. Each suck is hard and long, like you’re trying to suck him dry–it’s driving him crazy, he so badly needs more from you. He shivers and lets out a quiet groan. “Please, baby, give me more–ah–please…” His voice comes out more whiny than he means for it to, but it works.
You take his full length in your mouth, letting it hit the back of your throat. Tears well in your eyes, but it’s not your first time giving him oral like this, and–fuck–he tastes so good. He thrusts his hips forward towards your mouth, fucking your mouth deeper and making himself moan. You keep your fingers at the base of his cock and push his hips back into place with your other hand, then you set the pace yourself.
You can feel him twitching and throbbing against your tongue while you listen to him choke back whimpers. Your head bobs up and down quickly, devouring your little gift like he’s the last thing you’ll ever have. Looking up and seeing his pretty little face all red, that desperate expression, you can tell he’s right at the edge. You pull your mouth away but quickly replace your mouth with fast strokes from your hand, you look up at him and give him a seductively sweet smile. “Are you close, love?” He nods. “Go ahead and cum for me, my pretty boy. I wanna taste you.” Your words hit his ears like a melody, it gives him the chills.
You slide his dick back into the warmth of your mouth, swirling your tongue around him. His hands are still on your head, to prompt him you gently rub his arm. Taking that as his ‘ok’ he starts pushing your head down and pulling it back up, fingers tangled in your hair. Your eyes drift shut as you let him fuck your mouth and relieve himself. It’s not long before you hear Dazai release a loud moan and feel a warm, thick fluid fill your mouth and threaten to drip down your throat. He pulls you off of him slowly, his breath heavy and shaky. You struggle to swallow all of his cum, it’s thick and bitter, but you love that it came from Dazai. Some dribbles down your chin, but you pay no mind to it. Instead, you get to your feet and push the chair back until it hits a wall, startling Dazai a bit.
“Sweetheart–” You cut him off with a deep, passionate kiss, letting him get a taste of himself–that taste that you love so much. You break the kiss and put a finger to his lips, they’re wet from kissing you. “Shhh, be good for me now and just sit back.” You pin his ribbon-bound wrists above his head against the wall as you drop your pants and underwear to the floor, you then climb into his lap. “Can you do that for me, Osamu, baby?” Your words make him shudder, he nods as a grin spreads across his lips.
“Anything for you, my dear.”
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sunlit-haruka · 4 months
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Ranking all of the Milgram Birthday Outfits on a scale of 1/10 because it's 3AM over here and I have to do school things at 6 (Inspired by this video) ↓
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Already off to an incredibly strong start, because as we know, Haruka is perfect and can do no wrong. Dog? Little sister? Who's that? Sounds like a myth honesty. Alright, jokes and Haruka bias aside, very nice ! Relatively plain all things considered, but that's quite fitting for Haruka (I mean, have you seen how this kid dresses normally? I'm somewhat surprised that he didn't go for a full white look. Wonder if Muu helped him out when choosing his pieces) I also love the color blue, so bonus points for that. (shut up I know I just said I would ignore biases) Overall, I give Haruka Sakurai a 8/10 !! Lookin' good, buddy ! ↓
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Yuno looks so pretty and the outfit is SO cute !! I love the frilliness of the shirt, the pleated skirt is really cute and in general I love the shades of pink chosen for this outfit, and those SHOEEEES girl where did you get those give me name and address. I honestly have no complaints at all I give Yuno Kashiki a 10/10 !! Absolutely gorgeous girl !! (Also it's unfortunate we're only ranking the outfits and not the cakes, because the decision to give Yuno a fucking staircase cake was genius) ↓
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...Mannn, I wish I could say I liked this outfit so badly. The outfit itself is alright, if a bit basic, and Fuuta looks very handsome ! But I can't help but feel like black would've been a better choice for him than dark brown. And Fuuta...my guy...WHY those shoes? I could've maybe forgiven the outfit colors if you didn't decide to pair them with shiny gold...sneakers? What the hell even are those? Get better shoes, man. Overall, I'm giving Fuuta Kajiyama a 4/10. I like the outfit it'self (minus the shoes), but the coloring brings it down a lot for me. ↓
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Christ, no wonder Muu got model deals ! Look at this queen right here !! She looks absolutely gorgeous, the dress is beautiful and I love the Beauty And The Beast inspiration. The earrings being inspired by an hourglass is a very cool detail, and the heels look great as well ! I genuinely don't think I have any faults with this one Muu Kusunoki gets a 10/10 ! Nice job dressing to impress ! ↓
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One chance Mr. Kirisaki, one cha-- Ahem. As I was saying, Shidou looks amazing in this outfit !! I'm usually not a fan of there being so much white on it's own (I sound like a certain horror fanatic, sheesh.) But Shidou reallly rocks it, and the purple accents are very nice in comparison !! I also really like the shoes for some reason. Shidou is being added to the list also consisting of Muu and Yuno where I need to see who their shoemaker is For Shidou Kirisaki, I give a 9/10 !! Very pretty man. ↓
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Mahiru looks very pretty here ! I love the poofy hair accessory, and the birdcage earrings are a very nice touch. That being said however...the dress is a bit too plain for me. I cannot help but feel like something is missing here that would make the overall outfit look way better. A sash maybe? Despite that though, Mahiru Shiina gets a 6/10 !! Looking ready for a date !  ↓
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Ooooh...Kazui stans forgive me, but I'm pretty indifferent to this outfit. It's not bad mind you ! Kazui looks very handsome in it, and I like the blue chosen for his tie. But it's the same problem with Mahiru where I feel like it's a bit too plain and could've used something more, like a pattern on his vest or pants. Also though his shoes aren't the atrocity that is Fuuta's, I feel like a black or even a dark blue akin to Haruka would've looked a lot better in comparison to the rest of his outfit. Kazui Mukuhara is granted a 5/10. Not the best, not the worst. Sorry old man. ↓
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AHHH SHE LOOKS SO CUTE !! It's like if the frilliness from Yuno's outfit was upped to twenty ! Amane's dress is adorable and looks very comfortable as well, I want a bigger sized version for myself. I also really like her big bow, as well as the blue shoes. But most importantly, Amane seems to be genuinely happy wearing it, and as a fandom, Amane's happienss takes priority. Amane Momose, you'll be getting a 9/10 from me ! Good on ya, kid ! ↓
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Ahhh, he's so cute ! Look at how polite he looks ! The blazer is nice, and also blue. Blue bias. And the boots absolutely fucking SLAY. The way his hair is styled looks very nice as well ! I also think this is the closest we have gotten to official art of Mikoto smiling genuinely, and I personally think we need more. And more. And more. Mikoto Kayano gets a 10/10 !! Very cute boy ! ↓
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Ma'am, I politely and respectfully ask you to break my neck mercilessly-- Ahem. As I was saying. KOTOKO LOOKS FUCKING AMAZING !! The undershirt oh my god the FUCKING UNDERSHIRT !! Absolutely adore it so much. The colors are all very pleasing to the eye, the skirt is very cute, and the heels look cool as hell !! But Kotoko also looks cool as hell in anything, so is this really fair? Kotoko Yuzuriha has obtained a 10/10 ! Absolutely gorgeous.
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hirsheyskisses · 2 years
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Hi. I loved your imagines 🥰🥰 so much and I wanted to ask if you can do Yugo. With the jealous prop. Like in the club reader goes to see her DJ boyfriend but someone stops her to talk to her and she wants to leave but the guy is creepy and Yugo safes the day/night? And then maybe clams her 😊😏if not it’s okay and I get it. I just wanted to try my luck 🥰🥰
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❝Your voice.. It's the music only I want to hear.❞
┆Fembodied!Reader x Yugo Asuma
┆┆Warnings: Hinty NSFW. Minors DNI.
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Oh, how innocent you were.
It was one of many things that drew Yugo to you; your obliviousness to his feelings he had for you, oblivious to your own. Being a famous singer, truthfully, he never expected his feelings to be truly returned. Fans were fans, after all. But after he spent hours upon hours talking to you, Yugo knew one thing: You were different. You had to be. Never once did you look at him with that crazed look of obsession in your eyes. Sure, there was awe- you were a fan. But.. You looked more with curiosity. Curiosity of meeting a new person. You dove deep into his heart, able to read Yugo like a book.
Sometimes, he wished he could read you better, too.
Behind those dreamy eyes was a mystery, though. Even dating for half a year, and knowing eachother for over a year, you were still something of an enigma to Yugo. You treated others with the same kindness you treated him with, though minus the kissing and hand holding.
Which is why, here, even on stage, Yugo felt jealousy burning within him. Just in front of the stage, you were. Engaging with some weird looking person, unable to see the look on your face. But Yugo had to keep singing. Singing for all the people that came to see his performance, sing his heart out. Thank god for this particular song to be loud and angry..
---
"Huh?" You half shouted, feeling a hand grab hold of your shoulder. The moment your head turned, you were face to face with a rather intimidating looking person behind you. Through the noise, you could barely focus; but seeing this dude's face so close to your own..
And it only got worse. His hands grabbed your waist, and head dipped towards your ear. "Hey there, pretty!" His voice was loud, echoing through your body and seemed to send a shiver down your spine. "Let go of me, please-" You placed your hands on the man's chest in a desperate attempt to push him away.
But it was to no avail.
It seemed he only wanted to talk, though. So for your own safety.. You did just that.
---
Almost as soon as Yugo finished singing, he leaned over the stage, grabbed you by the arm, and pulled you away from the man. Not a word was said, but you could feel Yugo's blue eyes burn, even though not at you, but at the man. Waving to his crowd before whipping you off to the back stage dressing room.
"Who- who was he?"
Yugo asked, locking the door behind him. You breathed a sigh of relief, rubbing your arm. That was scary. "I don't .. know who he was. He just grabbed me and- well, I just thought talking would distract him." You managed to get out.
Unbeknownst to you, Yugo was still burning, like someone had lit a fire in him. "Thank you. For- getting me out of there." You added, moving forward to hug your boyfriend.
As soon as you did, Yugo's hands grabbed hold of your waist, lips crashing onto yours. The ferocity of the kiss alone already had you melting in his hold, hands slipping under your shirt.
"Y-yugo-"
Desperate attempts to turn your head away, but Yugo wasn't giving you the chance to breathe. Chasing after your lips, an animal-like growl rumbling from his chest. How DARE that man even lay a finger on you.. God, if only.. Yugo's hands tugging your shirt off you with ease, finally, pulling away.
His eyes had a dark shadow cast over them.
"...You.. I want to hear your voice.. I'll.. You're mine."
....
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Did I procrastinate this for like,, three weeks because I didn't know how to write yugo? ...Absolutely
Im really sorry this didnt turn into an NSFW like you requested but, in all honesty the more i've tried the odder it gets, since im not overly familiar with yugo atm
Hope you enjoyed regardless!
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writing-by-mimi · 2 years
Text
Possession
Fandom: Obey me
    Genre: Romance, horror.
     Pairing: GN!MC x Diavolo
     Chapter: 2 of 13
     Summary: Possession; noun; the state of having, owning, or contolling something. That something just so happens to be you.
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Sitting silently in Diavolo's office was the worst. Barbatos had dropped you off. Apparently Dia had left the office...
      Eyes wandering around the room, they fell on the arm of his office chair. His personal insignia carved into the wood. A perfect match to your tattoo, minus his colors.
     Property.
     His pens. Stationary. Filing cabinet. Bookshelf. Computer. Even the calendar and the fucking stapler held the same insignia that now rested on your skin.
     A chuckle left you. Surely the Devildom had rules against slavery, right? Maybe indentured servitude was still allowed...but owning a person, a human... they had to have laws against this. Right? Diavolo was uniting the three realms. There's no way it would be legal. He would see it, laugh, and move along. You had nothing to fear!
     You had missed the office door opening. A stack of folders, full to the brim with papers landing on the desk startled you from your thoughts. "Good afternoon, Mc. What's brought you into Lord Diavolo's office? Surely you've kept out of trouble."
     Lucifer. Fuck! "Just here to chat. Barbatos went to track him down. So they should be back soon." You smiled.
     "Something good I presume? I could feel your pride radiating through the pact mark a few hours ago." His gloved hands laying out folders, presumably in order of importance for Lord Diavolo.
     Oh, you were proud then. Stupidly proud. Now, you weren't sure. Perhaps you should ask Lucifer... there wasn't a hex or curse he hadn't been able to break yet... so surely a silly tattoo should be nothing!
     The consequences of asking for this help could be worse than what you were in for though. As stupid as it was, you were still happy with your tattoo...to a point. It was beautiful. A connection for you and Diavolo, but perhaps you could find another way, or another symbol for this. Although you weren't sure if the witch that inked you would be so willing to again, especially since you removed their first work on you...
     You felt Lucifer side eyeing you. Turning towards him, you put  on a show of smiling. A small tinge of pink rising on his cheeks as he scoffed, turning away from you. "Now I know what I saw."
     "Huh?"
     "Guilt, Mc. It's radiating off of you."
     "If I tell you something... you have to promise you won't get mad. That you won't punish me." You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt.
     "Out with it." Lucifer said nonchalantly, pulling your chair back from the desk, so he could stand in front of you. From this angle, you definitely felt small. His form towering over you.
     "I need your help." Turning away from him you took a deep breath. "Barbatos... let me know that I did... something foolish."
     "Such as?" He questioned after a minute of your silence.
     Looking back to him, his expression was neutral. "Time is fleeting, Mc. If you wish for help before Lord Diavolo returns, you should speak quickly."
     "Promise you won't freak out?"
     "Time is ticking."
      "I got a tattoo!" The words tumbled from your throat. You were wringing your hands together now.
     His brows shot up before a small smirk appeared. "I didn't think you would be one for those, and you want it removed because Barbatos told you it was foolish? Do I understand this correctly?"
     "Yes." You whispered. "So will you help me, or not?"
     "A simple tattoo is nothing, Mc. Show me." He crossed his arms.
     "You can't look at it!" You stood quickly.
     "How do you think I am to remove said tattoo without looking?" Another smirk. If he wasn't so damn handsome you had half a mind to slap him. Consequences be damned!
      "So your telling me, the great, wonderful, Lucifer MorningStar can't remove a little bit of ink from human skin without looking?" You crossed your arms and looked him in the eyes.
     "I very well could, but where is the fun in that. You are asking for my help. Consider it my payment for services rendered."
     "I'll tell you what it is after you remove it. Now just hurry Lucifer!" You growled. Time was slipping away.
     "No." His smile was wide.
     "Lucifer! Please!"
     "My answer remains the same, Mc."
     "I could just command you to do it anyway." You held your head up high. You weren't going to give.
     "No, you won't. You've never commanded me, other than in situations where you deemed it absolutely necessary." He leaned against Lord Diavolo's desk. "So tell me, Mc, where is this mark you wish so terribly to be rid of?"
     Damn him and his attractive smile. If this had been anything else, he might have even been kissable! "I'll let you hold the area. If you promise not to look."
     "I'll be holding the area regardless for the removal to work."
     Dammit! Letting out a sigh, you dropped your arms and hung your head. You knew you were beat. It was only coming off if Lucifer got his way. Considering you needed his help now arguing wouldn't do anything but take longer. Besides Diavolo, he may be the only one strong enough to take it off. "Fine! But not a word of this to anyone! And I am not being punished for this." You began to unbutton your bottoms, eyes never leaving his face.
     Another small tinge of pink on his cheeks as he turned away, "Really, Mc? You seem to be full of surprises."
     "Just shut it and get it done with, before Diavolo gets here!"
     Lucifers eyes trailed down your body, down where your hands were working your bottoms off. "And what are the magic words, Mc?" His voice sweet as honey as he loomed your terrible manners over your head.
     Grabbing Lucifers hand, you quickly shoved it in your underwear, palm flush with your tattoo. "Please, Lucifer!" Your voice came out as more of a whine than you intended. His fingers had brushed against your sex and you would be lying if you said it didn't feel nice.
     "What's the meaning of this?" A sharp voice brought you back to reality. You would know that voice anywhere. How the fuck were you going to explain what was going on in his office?
     "Lord Diavolo." Lucifer greeted him, pulling his hand from your underwear.
     You wished the world would just swallow you whole.
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Thank you @ruionizuka for being my wonderful beta!
Tag list: @dialuciwife @my-perfect-machine @archangel1206 @littlelias-stuff
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ofpineapplesanddawns · 10 months
Text
Thank you for the suggest @hurtslikeyourmouth! 
Warning: blood drinking, transformations, Lucian is nude for a short period of time but that is for wolfy reasons
On with the fic!
--
Apparently, Peter had taken the bus to get to this location, said his car was in the shop or something like that. So, Lucian was going to have to drive him back to the city.
However, Lucian came here on a motorbike, and it wasn’t built for two people. Luckily, Peter could become a tiny bat, even though he really didn’t want to. Still, he changed and hid himself in Lucian’s shirt pocket, protected by his leather jacket as Lucian drove down the highway back to the city.
Lucian wondered if he should pull back and ask Peter where he could drop him off, but he had a feeling that the vampire didn’t want to be left alone. Actually, he probably shouldn’t be, he seemed completely distraught about his current situation of not being cured of being a vampire, and Lucian worried he might do something stupid. He seemed the type. 
So, without discussion, he rode into the city to where he was currently staying. It wasn’t great, a small rented apartment, furnished second and third-hand, but it worked as a temporary home. He would have hidden in the sewers like he had in Europe, but he had learned that in a sunny place like this, that’s where a lot of the vampires hid. And dangerous humans too, ones who were very territorial. 
Lucian parked and got off, heading into the building. Peter shifted in his pocket and poked his head out, making a tiny sound that seemed to express confusion. Lucian didn’t address him until he got into his apartment and closed the door behind him. He removed the bat, who flew from his hand and ungracefully landed on the floor as a human.
Peter frowned, rubbing at his backside before looking around. “Uhhh... where are we?”
“My place.” Lucian addressed him. “I feel like it would be best that you stay with me tonight, you don’t seem to be mentally sound to be left alone.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
Lucian hung up his coat and walked past Peter, working to remove his arm blade. “I have known many lycans who couldn’t handle the changes to them and their new reality, and it was always wise to have someone with them during the early days, just in case they do something they will regret.”
Peter glared at him before he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. I’d... probably be back home now, drinking myself into oblivion. Which might happen, cause tryin’ to get drunk as a... v-vampire, it ain’t easy.” 
“I would imagine it isn’t. You can return in the evening tomorrow, though I think you should avoid dangerous items and substances.”
“God, what are you, my mum?” Peter said with a bitter tone as he got up off the floor, looking around the small living space. There wasn’t much to it, it was really just down to four rooms, living room, kitchen, bathroom, and a bedroom. Lucian didn’t have much of his own in here, minus weapons he used, his tech, and what clothes he had.
Peter was looking around with a judgmental stare, but he seemed to be holding his tongue. He moved to sit on the couch and sniffed, frowning. “Do you own a cat?”
“No.” Lucian set his blade down on the table. “I think a previous owner of this place had, and it’s rather annoying. The smell is... overwhelming at times.”
The vampire looked at him, then bit at his lip, eyes looking down at where his painted nails were chipped. “So... lycan? Yeah? Do you, I dunno, change during the full moon? Like in the movies and stories?”
“I can change during the full moon, yes. It’s when I’m at my strongest, however, I can change at anytime if I wish to.”
“Really?” Peter blinked. “Like what I can do?”
“Ehh... not quite, it’s more... complex than just suddenly doing what... what exactly can you do?”
Peter shrugged. “I dunno. I’ve looked into the kind of vampire I am, and there’s such limited information on it. All I know is that it’s a native type from the American southwest and norther Mexico, a desert-dwelling canyon bat vampire that can sorta withstand the sun, but I have a limit. I’ve also learned that if I turn my AC on full blast, it knocks me out cold cause I can’t handle that kinda cold anymore.”
Lucian raised an eyebrow. “I... am not sure what to make of that. I am not familiar with your kind at all.”
“It’s not well-known, myths and legends are sparse, apparently it’s one of those ones that doesn’t get spoken about much, lest you bring them to your home, that sorta thing.”
“Right.” Lucian nodded. “Well, I’m not sure how you change into a tiny bat in the blink of an eye, but my transformations are... similar to what you see in your movies.”
“For real?” Peter asked and looked at him, as if expecting a demonstration. It wasn’t said aloud, but the look was practically begging. 
Lucian sighed. “I don’t know if it’s wise to show you.”
“I showed you mine, you show me yours.” Peter said, smirking. 
“Fine.” And he started to remove his shirt.
“Whoa! Whoa, look, I’m sad and depressed as shit right now, and sex is a great pick-me-up, but at least buy me a drink first!”
Lucian paused and looked at him funny. “My transformations ruin my clothing, Peter.”
“Ah.” Peter nodded, his pale cheeks looked a little more normal toned now, was he blushing?
The lycan removed his shirt and easily removed the rest of his clothing, Peter looked anywhere but below his waist. “It’s not a pleasant sight, I’m used to it, have been, but those unfamiliar have told me it’s a frightening display to witness.”
“I’ve... seen a lot of horrors in my life, you’re fine.”
Lucian nodded and started to change, feeling his bones shift, his skin thickening and becoming hairier. It was a familiar, uncomfortable situation, but when you’ve been doing it all your life, you learn to live with it. He dropped to all fours when he finished and turned to look at Peter, who was staring wide eyed, hands gripping the couch tightly. Looked like he unconsciously punctured it with his claws.
“Holy fuckin’ hell...” Peter whimpered, staring at Lucian who approached and stared at him at face level. The vampire swallowed and cautiously held up a hand and Lucian tilted his head, allowing Peter to touch him. “God damn, you’re... I’ve never seen anything like you before in my research.”
Lucian grunted and bumped his snout against the hand. He moved away when Peter slowly got off the couch and started to walk around, examining Lucian. “You don’t have a tail.” He observed, sounding slightly disappointed, but he continued to look him over before finally standing in front of Lucian.
“Does it hurt when you do it? It sounded horrible.”
Lucian shook his head. 
“Right, uhh... can you change back? Is it easy? Or do you gotta stay like this for a while and then wake up naked and human aga- oh shit, there you go.” He stepped back as Lucian rose up and started to change back to a human, it was always so much faster than changing into a wolf. 
They looked at one another, inches apart. Lucian noted that Peter was slightly taller than him, he had terrible bags under his eyes, and he had a lot of freckles. He could see a bite on the man’s neck, the scars weren’t old, must have been the bite that changed him. He also noted that he could faintly hear a slow heartbeat, no true pattern to it. Peter had a working heart?
“I just realized something.” Peter said quietly, he hadn’t broken eye contact since they locked eyes.
“What is it?”
“You never told me your name.”
Ah, he hadn’t? How rude. “It’s Lucian.”
“I’m Peter.”
“I know.”
“Shut up, I’m allowed to properly introduce myself after I sucked your blood.” He scoffed, but Lucian smiled as he moved away to get redressed.
“Yes, I suppose so. Do you... need more blood? You haven’t consumed any in a month until tonight, correct? I’m shocked you didn’t go mad from the lack of it.”
Peter frowned and shuffled about. “Oh, I... had a lot of trouble with it the first few days. I had to pretend to be sick to avoid biting any of my co-stars and staff. And I spent the time as a bat, screaming my little heart out. Found out that, uh, eating... certain things helped control the hunger for a bit.”
He was staring at Lucian as he dressed, but not in a sexual way. More in a hungry way. “You’re still thirsty.”
“Like a dying man in the desert, damnit.” Peter flopped down on the couch, rubbing at his face.
Lucian moved to sit next to him, holding out his arm again. “Come on, drink up.”
Peter looked at him, frowning. “I don’t wanna go mad and drain you.”
“You didn’t earlier, you stopped yourself.”
“Cause I panicked.”
“True, but you’re safe. And you probably need to consume blood, it’s best that you do before the blood lust overtakes you.”
He looked so uncomfortable. “That’s probably a myth...”
“I’ve seen it before. Drink. I’m offering, I’ll be alright, I heal easily.” He gestured to where Peter had bitten before, the wound was gone. 
Peter looked at his arm, letting out a sigh, before leaning in close. “Why are you helping me?” He asked.
Lucian frowned, why... was he helping Peter? He probably shouldn’t, but this man seemed so upset over his new condition, like it was the worst possible outcome for him in life, that he’d probably rather anything else but this. There was probably a reason behind that.
But seeing Peter in need of help reminded Lucian of his people, so many of them joined him because he was willing to help them, to save them or give them a better life, even if it meant having to lose your humanity to do so.
Maybe Lucian was just lonely.
“Because I want to.” He finally said.
Peter looked at him, his face hard to read, then his opened his mouth and bit down on Lucian’s arm. They sat in silence, the only sounds were Lucian’s terrible AC and Peter’s drinking.
--
Lucian has obtained a pathetic man. <3
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stormy-seasons · 1 year
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fic snippet! A while back, someone prompted me for fem-Zhongli and then my imagination ran away with me... [it'll go up on ao3 when there's a bit more to it] No fem-Zhongli in this section just yet... but lots of Zhongli teasing Xiao via scene negotiation. References a few details that are technically 2023 Lantern Rite spoilers.
"Dijun, I have a request." is what Zhongli hears the moment he steps into the apartment he keeps on the outskirts of Liyue Harbour. Ah. He glances once at Xiao, kneeling on one knee with gaze respectfully cast down, and walks past Xiao to Zhongli's own bedroom. Carefully, he begins the process of disrobing and removing Minu's intricate textile artistry from his body. Removes the gloves, undoes the buttons, the ties, the other fastenings and clasps, takes off the coat, the under-coat, the vest, the shirt. Loosens the ties for the trousers, but does not remove them just yet. Adepti did not have nudity taboos... but if Xiao was asking for what Zhongli thought he might be, to be bare to the skin in front of him might be too much at the moment. 
Slowly, he walks back out to the main room, and moves towards Xiao, who is still waiting in that same perfectly respectful posture for Zhongli's answer. "I have said before, that I am no longer your lord. I have stepped away from that position of rank. I would that the adepti continue to be my friends and companions, and not merely my subordinates, as all of you have been of old, Xiao."
Xiao remains silent, neither affirming nor rebutting his words. That's fine. Zhongli will coax a little more speech from him soon. Zhongli flexes his arms, stretching his hands as though he experienced the aches a mortal human might  after extended writing or other fine craftwork using the hands. Xiao makes a tiny noise, his golden eyes snapping up to fix upon Zhongli's hands, marked as they always were in gold and black by Zhongli's power. An interesting reaction. 
"What is your request, Xiao?" Zhongli asks, softening his voice to a purr. "Speak of it, I beseech you."
To Zhongli's delight, Xiao blushes, looking down and muttering, "This one is in no wise above Dijun, 'beseech' is not a word Dijun need use on this one –"
"Xiao." Zhongli says firmly, "Do not stand on unnecessary ceremony with me."
Xiao's mouth works silently, as he clearly swallows back words. Zhongli doesn't want him to do that. "Speak your request, Xiao. I will hear it."
"... I would like to serve you in bed, my lord. To... to serve and give pleasure to your female form, specifically." Xiao manages to say, while a becoming blush brightens his face. Zhongli strides a slow circle around him, watching as Xiao lowers his eyes and refuses to meet Zhongli's gaze again. "Is that so? Well, I am minded to grant your request. But I would like details, my Xiao. Tell me – how do you wish my female form to be shaped? What would you like it to have?"
The questions startle Xiao into raising his head again, and he yelps, "This one would not dare presume –"
Zhongli cuts him off with a hand on his face, tapping a finger gently against Xiao's cheek as he coaxes Xiao to kneel a little higher. "It is not presumption if I offer this to you. Tell me, my Xiao. What are the particular details that you want?"
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it-is-i-zim · 1 year
Note
sigh I'll bite what about tit out boomerang
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Bit of a doozy here. So first of, he's only showed up in like... 5 or 6 panels of issue #3 of Multiversity: Harley Screws Up The DCU so far. Problem is, he's under Starro's control so he's not like... Actually doing anything Starro is making his body do things with the Starro Spore on his face. I looked into Starro's weakness and therefore I could fix him by ripping the Starro Spore off his face. I might have to lock up in a freezer or something but yeah. Also supposedly in comics the hosts are still alive and the based on what happened to Harley... I'd say he's probably still alive under there. Since I want the Starro Spore off his face and I want him to just... Live his life, that's what makes it so far from the original cuz so far he's only showed as a host for Starro. He should be allowed to kill and bite and maim Starro for what they? It? (Wtf are Starro's pronouns. Does Starro even have pronouns???) did to him. Sadly this is like... The most he's showed up in ANYTHING since he died in the movie and since the game has been delayed until February of next year it could still be quite some time before he finally shows up more. So like... 6 panels where he's infected with a starfish shaped facehugger is the best I got rn. So I'm using what I got to craft my own little thing where he's got a sick ass looking Starro shaped scar like how Harley had (she always gets the attention anymore). Normally he's just a silly little guy. A fucking court jester even. But with him being part of a hive mind at the moment we just don't get to see it. Yeah, he's still able to bite and kill and maim, but not in a way he really wants to because of the whole hive mind parasite bs. The og has 2 kinds of daddy issues and I like characters with daddy issues. The original is also an asshole and I love them for it so I'm saying he's also an asshole. I don't think there's a version of him out there who isn't an asshole tbh. I fucking love his design. Except you know... The fact you can't see his fucking face. Can't wait to peel that parasite of his face to look that asshole in the eyes. I hope his eyes are green. It's been a minute since he's been drawn in canon with green eyes. But here's another picture of his design. It's so fucking good. I wish I looked that hot and sexy. I want to look exactly like that. Minus the mind controlling starfish shaped alien facehugger.
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AND THE SCARS ON HIS ARMS PLEASE THAT'S SO FUN!!!!!! Then uh... there's his tit.
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It's just hanging out of his shirt. There's a big ass hole and you can see his tit through the hole. I need more of this with Boomer he deserves it with his probably around 20 deaths now because Jesus Christ he keeps fucking dying. I MADE A POST ABOUT HIM ACTUALLY AND I KEEP SENDING ONE OF MY FRIENDS THIS SAME IMAGE OF HIS TIT. LET ME QUOTE THEM ACTUALLY BECAUSE I FOUND OUT ABOUT HIM LITERALLY FUCKING YESTERDAY AND I HAVEN'T SHUT UP ABOUT HIS TIT I'M SO NOT NORMAL ABOUT THIS
Anyway... heres the quote:
"STOP SENDING THE TITTY PIC I BEG YOU"
-@rallazarthemagnificent
Sadly I fully expect him to die at least once in this series cuz that's... That's just what he do. He dies. A lot. He means everything to me though and I wish he stopped dying for once.
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janetm74fics · 2 years
Text
The Rim c8: Reeves Verses Fischler
Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | AO3
While Scott was being re-introduced to Thunderbird One, Marshal Casey and Lee Taylor were meeting with the two scientists.
As they approached the large room that they called their ‘lab’, the two stood for a moment and watched the two men.
They could not have been more different.
Dr Tycho Reeves was a Scottish scientist with degrees in engineering and applied sciences. He was the one who determined the exact physics and nature of the breach. He was always very smartly dressed, suit trousers, shirt and sweater-vest and brass-handled cane completing his outfit.
Dr Langstrom Fischler could not have been more opposite. Educated at MIT and a genius in his own right (though Casey often sourly wished his genius was more along the lines of Brains or John Tracy) the man was…eccentric to say the least.
Where Fischler was a bonus for Casey was that the man was not afraid to get his hands dirty dissecting the Kaiju and analysing them for weaknesses. He’d already invented a machine to ‘milk’ the noxious chemicals from the Kaiju, and that had gone some way to help neutralise the continuous threat of Kaiju Blue on the world’s oceans.
The man didn’t know how lucky he was though. So blatant in his admiration of Kaiju to Scott, of all people, she appreciated just how controlled her eldest Godson was. Scott had a temper that could and did burn hot and fast, and Casey had no idea how Fischer was still standing.
The two scientists seemed to barely tolerate each other, despite the fact that they shared the same lab.
At the moment Fischler was busy cutting up some part of a Kaiju while Reeves was up a ladder scribbling on a giant chalk board.
‘Zero minus two. XY minus two. R-E-Q,’ Reeves muttered as they looked on.
‘In the beginning, the kaiju attacks were spaced by 24 weeks. Then twelve, then six, then every two weeks.’
He’d climbed down the ladder and shoved it out of the way, moving one side of the chalk board over.
‘The last one in Sydney was a week.’
Reeves tapped the board with the ferrule on his cane to emphasise his point.
‘In four days we could be seeing a Kaiju every eight hours until they are coming every four minutes. Marshal, we should witness a double event within seven days.’
Casey kept her composure, hands clasped behind her back as was her way, but her mind was whirring away.
‘Mr Reeves, I’m to drop a 2,400-pound thermonuclear bomb. I need more than a prediction.’
She trusted the man because Brains trusted him, but she needed to be 100% sure. They turned as Fischer joined the conversation.
‘Well, uh, that’s a problem then, because see, he actually can’t give you anything more than a prediction.’
And with that Fischler returned to cutting up whatever he had on the table after throwing what looked like some entrails over the room to land on the floor behind them.
Reeves bristled, bustling over as fast as his bad leg would carry him and kicking the entrails away.
‘No Kaiju entrails over my side of the room, you know the rules! Every bloody day, it’s incessant.’
Casey ground her teeth. This was certainly not the first time the pair had approached her with this complaint, and she really needed the men to focus. She felt Taylor stiffen beside her and he practically shouted to stop them before this descended into bickering, getting there before she did.
‘Gents! On point!.’
They sighed in unison, and at any other time it would have caused them to laugh. Not now, though.
‘Numbers do not lie.’
Fischler scoffed but Reeves steamrollered on.
‘There will be a double event and shortly thereafter three, and then four.’
‘And then we’re dead,’ Casey stated flatly. ‘I get it.’
‘Alas. But this is where the good news comes.’
Reeves led them over to the computer, summoning up a holographic representation where he proceeded to show them their universe, the Kaiju universe and the breach with the ‘throat’, the passage between the two universes that enabled the monsters to enter the world.
‘I predict that the increased traffic will force the breach to stabilise and remain open long enough to get the device through and collapse its’ structure.’
It certainly looked dramatic, seeing the computer simulation of the throat winking out of existence.
‘Yeah, and that’s where I gotta chime in.’
Of course he did. Still, Casey was a fair leader, and she turned to give Fischler her attention, as did Taylor.
‘Because, really, I wouldn’t wanna go in there with that limited amount of information.’
Casey and Taylor exchanged a look. Yep, the two were bickering again…
‘That’s what I was trying to say. Just hear me out for a second.’
Despite Reeve’s sigh, all three of them moved over to hear what Fischler had to say. Casey hoped it wouldn’t be more Kaiju nonsense, and she almost turned away when the first thing that the scientist said was about why the Kaiju were categorised the way they were.
But then he showed them. Two pieces of Kaiju that looked identical although they had been harvested six years apart.
Clones.
Clones gave Casey a headache. Why could nothing about these monsters be simple. Clones suggested intelligence that was possibly just as advanced than they were. She needed a drink.
‘This is a piece of a Kaiju’s brain. Now, unfortunately, it’s damaged, a little bit weak. But it is still alive. I think I can tap into it.’
Casey felt like someone had chucked a bucket of ice-cold water down her back.
‘Using the same technology that allows the two Jaeger pilots to share a neural bridge, I could tell you exactly how to get through the breach yourselves.’
The man was mad. Even Reeves was aghast at the idea, his face all pinched. Taylor, ever one to get straight to the point, asked the question.
‘You’re suggesting that we initiate a drift with a Kaiju?’
‘No. No, no, nothing like a whole Kaiju, you know. Just a tiny piece of its brain.’
‘The neural surge would be too much for the human brain.’
‘I agree,’ Casey stated.
‘I don’t agree.’
‘Reeves, I’d like your data on my desk ASAP. Thank you Langstrom.’
Casey and Taylor took their leave. There was much for them to consider.
Reeves sighed. He and Fischler used to be friendly back when they had only met by correspondence. Meeting in person had been a mistake, but they were both scientists and they both just wanted to help, even if Fischler’s methods lacked the robust scientific rigour that his did.
‘Langstrom, I know that you’re desperate to be right so you’ve nor wasted your life being a Kaiju groupie, but it’s not going to work.’
Maybe that didn’t quite come out as he had intended, but really, the man did drive him up the wall at times. Reeves strode off to gather his data while Fischler quietly fumed behind him.
‘It is going to work, Tycho.’
Reeves turned to face him.
‘I tell you something else. Fortune favours the brave.’
‘You heard them. They won’t give you the equipment and even if they did, you’d kill yourself.’
He stormed off, unwilling to listen to Langstrom Fischler and his ridiculous ideas.
‘Well, I’d be a rock star,’ Fischler replied to the air as ideas began to form in his brain.
He’d show them.
He’d show them all.
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unexpectedly-adrift · 2 years
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T Minus 1
I'm okay. Really, I am.
Apart from the fact my heart is being slowly clawed out with a blunt fork.
Took the boy to town this morning so he could buy a GroPro. He's not using his own car again before he goes, to make sure there's some fuel left in it, in case we need to move it before it's sold.
I sat there in my BM, waiting outside the shop, warm spring sunshine all around, reflecting on just how many hours, days, weeks, MONTHS even 🤔😂 I've spent waiting for D since he was born!
Now D is one of those people who's always chilled out and 'last minute'. We live rurally and there's no other transport, so until he got his own vehicle, me and his Dad did a lot of running around.
I can't even begin to guess how long I've waited on the drive over the years while he 'just' cleaned his teeth, ironed a shirt, found his lunch, gym bag, shoes. Untold hours, reading or writing online to pass the time - outside colleges, rugby clubs, places of work and a hundred other places. I've waited for buses, trains, waited to drop him off at friend's houses... waited with everyone else in the car, ready for departure, while he went back into the house for the third time for his wallet, his 'phone, his glasses... I wonder how much time it actually adds up to? 😅 He even kept me waiting when he was born. Having decided to arrive two weeks early, he then took five days to actually make an exit!
Of course, I'd do it all again for him if he needed it. With pleasure.
He's a lot quicker now though, which is a good thing with all that transport to negotiate in his future.
We had a pub lunch today - D, me, hubby and the cockapoos. It was good to spend that time together and April certainly dug deep into its box of tricks to entertain us and remind D why he's seeking warmer climes for a while.
It was warm sunshine when we arrived, so we sat outside as we had the dogs with us. Then dark clouds banked overhead. We looked nervously upwards and decided it might be a good idea to move the table and chairs underneath the smoking shelter roof. Not a moment too soon! As we put the table down the heavens opened and hailstones rattled down, followed immediately by heavy rain ❄️🌧️. You never know what's coming next here in Spring!
So...D has just taken the dogs down the garden for a last play with their ball. He's had some great times in that garden since we moved in 22 years ago. We may not be living here by the time he comes back, so it's a big thing for him, this departure, although he's also so excited about his adventure and that's lovely to see. Really hope it all goes smoothly for him.
Tomorrow will be unimaginably tough.
If all goes to plan, by this time tomorrow D will be up North, flying out Monday morning if current airport chaos allows.
I think I will be the one taking him to the train station.
I must remember to breathe. Tell him (again) I love him and to take care of himself. I will genuinely wish him the safest of travels and hope he has a totally fabulous time. I'll wave him off, if he wants me to.
It will be the moment when a most precious creature takes flight out into the world, going further than I can see, beyond any easy assistance I can give.
I hope the world returns him one day, in one piece, with a happy heart.
Until then...
It will be T Plus 'the foreseeable future'.
Take care out there
M
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flamingofiendart · 3 years
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I have an obsession with drawing my sonas in clothes I own
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huenjin · 3 years
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and they were roommates.
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summary — who would have thought that a very naked sight of your best friend and a torn shower curtain in the rainiest of weathers could start romance? or in which you start falling for your childhood best friend, lee minho, unaware that he’s always been in love with you.
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pairing — lee minho x reader, ft. binsung.
genre — fluff, smut, crack | roommates!au, bff2l!au
rating — 18+
word count — 11k words.
note — smut warnings under the cut, ofc! i suck at making summary adagafga!! but but but, i promise this story is adorable, okay, minus all that smut, my lame humor and those bit of rushed parts? this took forever and i'm so sorry for all that had to wait, especially the one who requested this uwuwu. 
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smut warnings — a lot of kissing, a lot of swearing, mentions of naked exposure, fingering, cunnilingus, riding/reader on top, penetration, unprotected sex (wrap it before you snap it), choking. there isn't a loooot of smut either, ah! so enjoy the fluff ride.
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"You idiot," you scream, loud enough for your neighbours to hear. You pull out the keys that hang outside in the key hole and pull open the door. "How could you leave the keys outside, Minho?"
"I mean, what if someone stole it?" You throw your keys and Minho's into the small box on a ledge by the door. Removing your shoes, you put on the pair of your house shoes by the side and walk further into the apartment. "Or what if someone broke in? You could get killed, you dumb hoe! Or worse, our new television could get stolen."
You hear no response and just the loud sound of shower running in the bathroom hits the walls of your shared apartment. You walk to your room, passing by the common bathroom, after throwing your bag on the sofa. You talk on the way, yelling in hopes that he would hear.
"Did you walk back in the rain? There's no other reason as to why I did not see you after college. Jisung was searching for you too, Minho."
You change into a pair of shorts and black camisole, pulling your hair up and knotting it, all while your ears pick up the small humming from the bathroom. You shake your head at the fact that since it's Lee Minho in the shower, he is probably going to take his own time to come out. After all, he is the reason why your water bill is so high. 
"Yah, Lee Minho!" You walk outside and hit the door with your fists to bring at least a little of his attention towards you. "Do you want the leftovers or should I get food delivered?"
"Delivery!" he screams back, hearing the shower sounds lower and you yell back in response, "Okay," and walk back to the living room, falling back and plopping down on the comfortable rexine covered sofa. 
Your phone rings in the next minute and you are pulling it from your pocket quickly all because you are bored out of your mind. It is also because your stupid best friend from the god forbidden age of five to till this date, takes forever to get out from the shower.
It's Jisung. Not that you would have a doubt even if you had picked up without looking at the name on the screen — your friend circle is that small. It has just been you, Minho and Jisung majorly for almost three fourth of your life, the other one fourth of it with you having your parents as your best friends. Jisung had always been the annoying kid in the playground that pushed you off the swing because he wanted to play and Minho had always been the knight in shining armour in your local playground, the defender of all things right as he saved you from Jisung's frustrating taunts. 
And then your mother — oh dear, she is the reason why you are still stuck with Minho's rich arse (mostly because she thought too that this is the finest her very antisocial daughter would ever find in a man) — decides that since Lee Minho was so kind to save her poor damsel-like daughter, he might as well do it forever. Fast forward to present day, and you are still cleaning up after him. 
"Did Minho reach home?" Jisung asks as soon as you answer the call. You roll your eyes and shift your position to one that allows you to stretch your leg against the length of the sofa.
"Oh, hi, Y/N," you fake your tone, mocking Jisung's ignorance. "Did you reach home safely? Did you get caught in the rain? Oh no!" And then quickly changing it back to normalcy, "Yes, Jisung. I reached home safely. The rain did get heavy as I walked back home but nothing to worry. Did you reach home safely?"
Jisung is laughing loudly on the other end. "Sorry, Y/N," he makes a weird kissing sound and you pull your phone away from your ear. "I presume Minho's safe at home, else you would be the one to crash my phone with the endless calls in worry of his safety. Ha!"
"He got caught in the rain," you sigh. "I hope he's okay though. I would have mentioned how he was, had he just come out of that goddamn bathroom but no! It almost seems like he is rebuilding the whole bathroom." Jisung laughs so loud that you have to pull the phone away from your ear again. 
"Dude, dude, dude," Jisung calls out for you through the line.
"Yeah?" 
"You and Minho are totally like my parents fighting." 
"Do you want to get punched in your face, Han Jisung?" You sit up straight, folding your leg across each other and bending forward, your elbow digging into your thigh as your hand supports your head. 
"And my boyfriend would punch yours if you punched mine," he huffs and you know he is talking about Seo Changbin. At a good five feet and six inches, the shorter male befriended Jisung and then wooed him over in grade eleven with some weird shining universe experiment for a science project and the Han Jisung you had always known, fell for the gesture immediately. They began dating a week after, making Changbin the only other human being you willingly chose to become closer to.
"Like Minho would let that," you click your tongue and Jisung laughs again, mumbling, "How have you guys not slept with each other yet? You guys are roommates."
"I'll kill you, Han Jisung."
"Like you would." The minute Jisung taunts back, you hear a loud noise of something crashing down and the sound is from the bathroom. You jump upwards, quickly hanging up without even telling Jisung that you were leaving as you drop your phone and rush towards the bathroom, taking huge steps to reach before the door in less than a few seconds.
You slam your fist against the door, over and over again, yelling, "Yah," to draw his attention before asking, "Minho, are you okay? I'm coming in," and you pull open the door to the common bathroom. A decision you wish you had not chosen but one you had to take for his safety.
Before a very surprised you lay a very, very naked Lee Minho, groaning with his back against the cold white tiles of the bathroom, neck lifting his head above to instinctively avoid hitting the floor. His hand holds a huge piece of the shower curtain that he must have tried holding onto before falling and as the colour drains from your face, lips wide apart, staring at your naked best friend in shock who is staring back at you, it dawns upon you quickly.
You immediately slap your hand over your eyes and scream as loud as you could possibly, "Fuck, fuck. I just saw your schlong, oh my god!"
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"Are you not going to look at me at all now that you saw my dick?"
Minho rolls his eyes at you as a soft groan leaves his lip while he tries to make himself more comfortable on his bed. This time, he is fully clothed, black shirt over his torso and navy blue shorts. You are sitting on a small chair by his side, Chinese herbal medicinal mix in a white ceramic bowl, a tub filled with warm water and a towel and long white bandages on the table by the bed. The Chinese herbal medicinal mix was something your mother specifically ordered you to prepare for the boy before you.
You hand him a cup of warm water first which he takes and is about to swallow it down when you look at the wooden bedpost behind him and mumble, "But I saw your womb raider." Minho chokes on the water before coughing and you quickly pat his back which leads him to cry softly in pain and you are left apologising over and over again for being reckless.
He places the cup on the table and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he narrows his eyes at you and questions, "Womb raider? What the fuck?"
"You know, your schlong," you look away, heat rising up to your cheek. "I saw your schlong, a womb raider."
"I can't believe you call a dick that," he groans, rolling his eyes as if he has completely given up on you, "After having your womb raided enough by many womb raiders."
You look away, taking the ceramic bowl in your hand and mumbling, "None of them were long and thick enough to be called a womb raider though."
"Did you say anything, Y/N?" 
"Nothing," you yell and glare at him, cheeks still hot with the image still vivid in your head. "You can't look disappointed in me," you frown at him, "I should be disappointed. You tore the shower curtain."
"It was a mistake!" Minho gasps and tries to sit up but quickly ditches the plan when he feels the spin surge through him. You place the bowl back on the table and push yourself forward to help Minho sit up, your arms wrapped around his waist, your chest against his as you slowly pull him up. Minho explains himself, "If I didn't hold onto that, I would have gotten injured worse. I'm almost perfect now. It's just the slight—" You press your palm against his back and he seethes in pain.
"Slight pain, indeed," you scoff and finally let him rest against the bedpost. "This should do the magic though." You lift the ceramic bowl again and wave it before him, shoving the weird smelling green substance right in front of his nose. "My mother totally said it would work. She also said that you would have to be on the bed resting the whole day."
"You'll be my maid the whole day," Minho lights up, face instantly shining and you sigh, "Do I have an option? After this day though, we are going to buy shower curtains and you are going to pay for it because you tore it." You accuse him and he clicks his tongue.
"Fine."
"Remove your shirt now," you order and he looks at you, a teasing glint glistening in his eyes and he smiles, moving slightly closer.
"Why? Are you going to call my abs washboard now? That you could do laundry on them?" He purses his lips and leans forward and you push him back, his aching back hitting the bedpost again and Minho is crying with pain on the soft impact, albeit this time, you worry if it is fake. "Y/N," he cries, clamping down against his lower teeth hard, "Can you go easy on me?"
"Then stop teasing me!"
"Fine!" He huffs and looks away, "Help me out of this shirt now."
"What? Why? You put the shirt on fine. Can't you remove it on your own?" You question him, the ceramic bowl securely on your lap. Minho stares at you for the longest time ever and you stare back.
Has his eyes always been this tender? Has his skin always been this soft? Was Lee Minho always this charming and pretty to look at?
This is all because you saw his stupidly good dick, argh!
Minho finally answers, "It's harder to remove a shirt than to wear it." You shake your head and your eyes narrow to crinkled slits as you watch your best friend for a second more before placing the crucible back on the table and bending yourself forward to hold tightly the ends of his black shirt. You lift the black material up and remove it from his torso, exposing his abdomen and chest to the warm breeze in the air. 
He stares at you and you stare at him back, only till you take the white ceramic bowl again and hopefully the last time and you raise an eyebrow at him, mocking him, "Aren't you going to give me the classic Wattpad naked white male line?"
"What line?" 
He looks confused and you laugh, holding the bowl tightly, "You know, the—" You try to lower the pitch of your voice and to sound as cocky as possible, smirking, "Like what you see, baby girl?"
Minho laughs with you till he calms himself down a little, tilts his head and in the most guttural voice you have ever heard your best friend ever go, he repeats, "Like what you see, my baby girl?"
Your heart should not have sped up. Your fingers should not have tightened against the cold white crucible. You should not have pressed your thighs against each other. You should not have had your throat dried up at his very words. But it did and you are staring at Lee Minho in an angle you had never seen him. 
When did that stupid five year old boy who thought he could save the whole world grow up into this man?
"Uh, Y/N," Minho waves his hand in front of you, trying to bring your attention back. "Are you going to apply the medicine or? I mean, it's cold."
"Oh yeah," you stutter. "Yeah, yeah, I was about to. Can you turn back so that I can apply it on your back?"
"Yeah," he nods and pressing his hands into the mattress, he shifts himself, turning a one hundred and eight degrees away from you so that his back is facing yours. "This okay?"
"Yeah," you agree. You bend your arm forward to take the cloth soaked in warm water and you press it against his back. Minho bites his tongue in pain, eyes watering before he can't take it anymore and he turns back to face you. 
"Minho?"
"Can I do that thing you allowed me to do whenever I was in pain and you had to take care of me?" He asks, unsure, "Am I allowed?"
You nod, softly, smiling warmly at the man before you and you lift the chair up slightly. Minho quickly wraps his arms around your waist, his face buried into your soft chest as he edges closer to you. You place the warm cloth again on his broad back and Minho does what he has always done to combat pain.
He bites into your flesh softly, hard enough to trigger something weird within you at this age but soft enough to not cause any pain. 
Your eyes widen and your thighs tighten a bit but Minho is unaware to all this as he snuggles into your warmth, head fuzzy with the pain that throbs through his entire back. After a few minutes, you place the cloth back on the table and hold the crucible tightly. You dig your forefinger and middle finger into the green mix before applying it on his back, soft circles to calm him down and Minho lets go of your flesh, although he still continues to snuggle into you, his thick arms tightening around your frame.
"You're comfortable to hug," he mumbles as you apply the medicine all over his back, his face occasionally pressing against your breast and you gulp, reminding yourself that this is your best friend, that this is the kid you've seen in all his embarrassments. 
"Of course, I am," you laugh. "It doesn't pain that much, does it?"
"Not anymore."
"Good," and you apply another layer over the existing one. "Because if you say anything else to my mother, I swear to God, Lee Minho, I will—"
You don't complete. Minho laughs — soft, precious laughter that fills the air and engages your ears. He tilts his head to look up at you from his lower angle. You look down only to come in direct vision of his bright, glistening eyes that hold the stars behind them and his oh-so-flawless skin that you are envious of. Your heart beat escalates and you are about one hundred percent sure that Minho is aware. After all, he did have his ear against your chest in this position. 
"Fine, fine," his voice is airy and you could listen to it the whole day. "I'll tell your mother that her daughter took care of me perfectly, alright?"
"Perfect," you smile. "Now sit up straight. I need to bandage you up, just in case." Minho begrudgingly pulls back, a soft whimper leaving his lips before he huffs, folding his arms and sitting straight, looking you in the eyes and you gulp. 
"I'll be fine in a day, Y/N," Minho whines and you shake your head, mumbling, "Just in case." You turn your body to grab hold of the white roll of bandage before you beckon for him to come a little closer as you wrap the bandage over his torso, covering the medicinal herbs sticking to his body now. 
"You, in fact," you chuckle as you tighten the bandage and Minho seethes in pain at having his muscles pressed. You rub his hair affectionately before continuing, "You, Lee Minho, should be ready enough to cash out money for the shower curtain."
"Fine, fine, fine," Minho huffs only to break out into a smile as he looks at you. "We'll go as soon as I don't think I'll die if I stand up and straighten my back, okay?"
"Perfect," you laugh and pull yourself away from your best friend, clipping the bandage in the exact manner. You help him lie back against the soft mattress. You pick up the crucible and the tub of water as you stand up. 
"Y/N," Minho calls out for you and you turn, your head gliding against the joint and your eyebrows rising up in question.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks," he smiles, eyes closed and face so soft that you do want to hold it.
"For what?"
"For taking care of me, doofus. What would I have done had you not been there? You are my knight in shining armour now."
You laugh but your heart is furiously beating against your chest, thrumming against it so loudly that you can hear the beats. Your cheeks flush with heat and you look away, mumbling, "It's nothing," and walk away. You close the door quickly and fall against the vast wooden door finally, away from his presence and you hold the bowls close to you.
Fuck. When did your heart start beating this hard for the same man that you once knew as the stupid five year old with elephant print trunks? When did your heart start thrumming so loudly against your chest for your only best friend?
Either ways, you are doomed. Inevitably.
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Jisung: baby, i think it's about time Changbin: for what? Jisung: you know, how we always said those two should probably fuck Changbin: yeah? Jisung: the sexual tension is too high. can we get it over with already and have them date already? Changbin: you've been trying this forever and you failed. Jisung: don't remind me. you're my boyfriend, support me. Changbin: fine! go, sungie!! i love you either way though.
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It is exactly three days after the I-exposed-my-cock incident that Lee Minho agrees to go with you to buy the shower curtains. 
"Can't we just buy it online?" He had whined, arms folding against each other as he scrolled through his phone. You stand by the sofa, head shaking in disappointment as you reason back, frustrated, "The material," and you hit his arm. Minho winces. "The material is important. I won't compromise on that. Plus, you promised that you would come with me to buy something that you tore. Isn't that only fair?"
Minho does so. After bargaining with him for one tub full of mint chocolate ice cream that you will never understand why he loves so much. 
That is exactly how you find yourself here in this shop, shopping cart in your hand and Minho by your side.
"We are only buying the shower curtain," you tell him, staring at the half full shopping cart. "So I don't understand why we need all these."
Minho smiles sheepishly at you. He then points at the two tubs of ice cream and says, "One for you, and one for me. I even chose your favorite flavor!" He continues to point at each article and tell why he needs them very articulately and you stand there in surprise before breaking his speech.
"Fine, fine!" You push the cart ahead. "Now let's just go and get what we came here for." Minho follows you, his one hand on the shopping cart handle to keep pace with you. The two of you stop right in front of the array of curtains in different colours, some on display and some packaged and you smile, whispering under your breath, "Tada." Minho looks at you softly, at the small voice of joy that escapes your lips and he just watches you light up in fascination at something as simple as shower curtains.
Fuck, he loves your domesticity.
"Let's take this," Minho announces as he stretches his arms out to hold onto a pretty blue shower curtain. You hold it in between your fingers feeling the texture before announcing, "No."
"But why?" Minho whines, following your footsteps as you hold onto another shower curtain. 
"Because it's polythene," you frown at your best friend. Minho looks at you, confused, his eyebrows furrowing as they look at you like you have grown another pair of hands and legs.
"And so?"
"You could tear it again!"
"It happened once," he sighs, frustrated. "Once. It's not like I'm waiting to fall in the shower, tear the curtain and have you see my dick all the time, babe."
Your cheeks flush at his announcement and the tag he calls you by, your eyes looking away from his pretty face for a split second. Minho shakes his hand, taking a step forward to check a few other shower curtains out when the two of you hear a very familiar voice from behind, in the most professional manner ever.
"Sir, the one you chose is perfect. It is very durable and doesn't stain on contact with water—"
"Han Jisung?" Minho turns, the words of shock leaving his mouth almost instantly. You turn impulsively, eyes wide.
"What the fuck are you guys doing here?"
"Hey," you narrow your eyes at the other male. "I could file a report for bad customer service about now, Sungie."
He folds his arms and looks at the two of you suspiciously, "What are you guys doing here?" He raises an eyebrow at you, scoffing at you, "Like you would."
"What does it look like we're doing here, Sungie?" You bite back jokingly and Jisung laughs, gaze shifting between the two of you.
"I don't know," he runs a hand through his hair before folding his arms again, his fluorescent yellow uniform crumbling with the shift in his arms. "Is this some sort of a new way to date?"
"We aren't—" You quickly start when Minho pulls a curtain forward and breaks your sentence before you can complete as he asks Jisung, "This isn't polythene, is it?"
"Are you stupid?" Jisung frowns before he laughs. "That's clearly polythene. Minho, dude, you're a chemical engineering student. You have got to be kidding me if you can't identify polythene."
Minho doesn't pay heed to Jisung's words. You, on the other hand, stare at your best friend who walks away from you to examine more shower curtains. Did Lee Minho really ask Jisung, a literature student, whether that was polythene — What in the world?
"Y/N? Earth to Y/N?" Jisung snaps your attention back to the present. "Are you going to buy shower curtains today?"
"Yeah?"
"But your shower curtains were fine the last time I came home." You understand Jisung's surprise because the last time he did come home was five days back and the shower curtain was in a perfect condition. "What happened?"
You stretch your arms and point at Minho. The very culprit rolls his eyes before raising his eyebrows and sighing, voicing in the most dramatic voice you have ever heard Minho take, "Yes, Y/N. Yes, Ji. It's me. I tore the shower curtain because I fell in the shower."
"Ouch," Jisung acknowledges Minho's injury before walking past the two of you and taking a shower curtain. "Here's one. You might like this, Y/N."
"It's not PVC, Sungie."
Jisung wants to hit your head, terribly. Perhaps it's your adamance that is the reason as to why your friendship is this tight and strong but in moments like these, he likes Minho more. Minho stands by the side, arms folded and back resting against the wall as he trusts your judgement.
"Are you not going to tell her anything?"
"She handles all this at home. Give her what she wants, Ji," he laughs, fiddling with a few more shower curtains by his side. Jisung shakes his head in disappointment before mumbling, a soft frustrated groan leaving his lips as he throws his head back, "Definitely a married couple," and takes a few polyvinyl chloride made shower curtains. 
"Here," he presses his lips. "Don't blame me if the designs aren't that great. You don't get that many good designs in PVC. People go for polythene because it's more available."
"PVC doesn't tear and it's easy to clean!"
"Seconding this as a chemical engineering student," Minho chirps in from behind. You and Jisung turn to look at the man who is on his phone currently and shake your head lightly. "What?"
"He remembers his major now!" Jisung clicks his tongue. "All say, praise the Lord."
"I'm agnostic." You frown.
"More reasons for you to say it easily!"
You find a plain one in the ones he showed you and you take it. Jisung smiles finally, mumbling, "You're a frustrating customer."
"Nah," you scoff. Minho pushes himself off the wall as soon as he sees you done with the selection. "I just know what I want exactly. You, on the other hand, sweetheart," you poke his chest and Jisung chuckles. "You're a pathetic salesperson."
"Of course," he laughs the insult away. "I'm a literature student. I should be working in a publishing company as a part timer."
Minho takes the shower curtain from your hand and puts it in the cart by the side. He comes back, throwing his arm over Jisung's shoulder and frowns, "Apparently publishing companies care a lot more about who your parents are than your resume."
"It's just that publishing company," the other male looks down. "I'll try applying for another one soon."
"Do you want to grab a drink at our place tonight?"
"Can I?"
"Sure," Minho agrees. He drops his arm from Jisung's shoulder and holds the cart handle back, pushing it forward slightly. You take big strides to stand by Minho's side, also holding the handle slightly. Jisung raises his eyebrows at the two of you and with a smile that you don't think twice about, Jisung laughs.
"I'm coming over tonight."
"Sure," you throw your thumbs up at him, stretching your arm. Minho smiles softly at you, his eyes lingering a little longer at your happy figure and he feels his heart beat a little quicker at your sight. Your hair strands framing your face so beautifully, eyes shining the minute you find the exact thing you've had in your mind and your lips curving upwards in joy. 
Lee Minho finds the calmness that spring brings him every year in him all over again with you by his side.
"Bring the soju. Beer is on us!"
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Jisung: binnie, binnie!! Changbin: yes, baby? Jisung: i think i have a plan. Changbin: let them be, babe. Jisung: we let them be all these years! they pinned after each other without even knowing and we had to see that painfully! Changbin: i guess you make a valid point there Jisung: is it going to rain today? Changbin: it's been raining for the last few days, sungie. it could. just because i study geography as my minor doesn't mean i can forecast weather. hey! Jisung: fine~ i'm going to get them to confess tonight 👀 Changbin: don't mess up. istg Jisung: trust me 🥺 Changbin: i do. more than ever ❤️
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Jisung reaches your doorstep at sharp nine. With two bottles of soju in his hands, you see the stains of the droplets of rain falling onto his shoulder. 
It is drizzling for now and you worry if it is to rain heavily in a few minutes as the forecast mentioned. You hate the thunder. You hate how the weather changes drastically and worsens to a point that it frightens you and makes you anxious. It's a phobia you have managed to hide from everyone for fears of being treated weaker.
Jisung makes himself at home. He always has. He places the soju bottles on the kitchen countertop and Minho smiles to himself as he walks towards the point where Jisung has happily seated himself. Minho and you are on the other end of the counter while Jisung sits on the adjustable chair, swirling in it before stopping and facing you, Minho and the bottles of soju before him.
"Did it finally hit him?"
"I think?" You whisper back.
"I'm right here!" Jisung yells and you smile. Minho pulls the chair from under the counter and sits himself opposite the other male, pressing his lips together and trying to not laugh. He opens the bottle of soju after shaking it and hitting it against his elbow for a while. It clinks open, the metal hitting the glass before falling onto the table and you watch the two, as Minho pours a drink for Jisung.
He downs it in one go, letting out a loud sigh before stretching his arms and demanding a second one.
"Go easy, Sungie. You have the whole night."
"I don't," he huffs. "Now, please."
Minho pours it again before looking at you and you shake your head to indicate that you wouldn't mind a few. You grab hold of one of the empty cups on the counter before stretching your arm too. Minho laughs – a soft chuckle, so airy and light that you find yourself holding your breath for a small second there – and he pours you your drink. 
You twirl your drink, watching the liquid glide against the surface of the cup. Your best friend gets up and walks a little into the kitchen to open the fridge and grab a box of leftovers of fried chicken that you bought a few days ago. He pulls open the microwave to heat it and as he waits, he turns to look back at Jisung and asks him finally.
"Do you want me to drop a word to my uncle?"
"About?"
"He heads the Cheongsam Publication," Minho reveelas, pulling out the chicken from the microwave. He places it before the two of you and almost like you and Jisung were zoomed in, in an American sitcom, both of you gasp dramatically.
"Am I really your best friend?" Jisung yells and you narrow your eyes at Minho. Faking tears in his eyes, he persists in questioning,  "Do I not matter to you, Minho?"
"Why are you rooming with me when you could possibly afford a whole room on your own?"
"Yes, Jisung," Minho sighs and sits back on his chair. You bend forward, arms folded against the table as you stare at your best friend in betrayal. "Also, Y/N, don't you love having me around?"
He laughs and rests his head on your shoulder suddenly, causing you to stiffen them in response. Your eyes drift to the left, trying to not make it overtly obvious that Minho's sudden reaction has taken you by surprise. Your eyes land forward on Jisung who looks at you as if he knew this all along, as if he wanted exactly this. The man has a goddamn smirk plastered on his face.
Jisung downs two more shots and you look at him with a raised eyebrow, mumbling, "Slow the fuck down. No one's chasing you."
"Yeah, my goddamn plan," he mumbles before coughing and taking another. Minho sits up straight, finally lifting his head from your shoulder. He stretches his arm to pat Jisung's shoulder in comfort.
"I'll drop a word."
"Now, don't you dare go and say that you want to earn it and all that bullshit," you sigh. "It's the fucking Republic Of Korea. Nepotism is the norm."
"Not planning on saying that," Jisung glares at you. Clearly, Jisung is slightly tipsy, having been the only person to keep drinking. You and Minho opt to just watch over Jisung for the night. Your best friend puckers his lips in Minho's direction and blowing kisses, he says, "I love you, Minho."
"Changbin wouldn't like you saying that to another man though," you scoff and Jisung flips you the middle finger before downing one more and standing up. The thunder rattles the three of you exactly then and you grip the table, face turning pale instantly. Minho's attention darts to you quickly in concern.
"You okay?" You hum in response, unconvincingly though to Minho whose gaze lingers on you in worry for just a while more. That is, till Jisung rips it away by dramatically placing the back of his hand on his forehead and playing the damsel in distress as he gasps so loudly, staring at the big window.
"It's raining heavily," he sighs and you shudder, afraid of another thunderstorm as you grip tightly on the side of the table.
"So?" Minho asks, both eyebrows raised at the man before him, looking at the two of you with doe eyes.
"I'm staying over, thanks," he rushes and runs to your bedroom, quickly shutting the door and latching it and you and Minho stare at each other. As soon as the realisation of what could happen dawns over you, you rush to your closed bedroom, fists banging against the wooden door.
"Yah, Han Jisung," you turn to look at Minho who watches you in amusement. "Open the fucking door."
"No. I don't want to go back home in the rain. You and Minho can share the bed. I am never opening the door. Good night."
"What the fuck? Yah, Sungie, stop acting like a child. Open the door now." You hear no response. "Sungie? Answer me. Open the door please." Minho walks over to you, and tries knocking too, in vain however because Jisung has no plans to open the door.
You look at Minho, the man slightly towering you as he stands by your side and you gasp. You had to share the bed with the same man you just realised you could, perhaps, have developed feelings for?
"Fuck."
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Jisung: it finally seems to be working, binnie! luck's on my side this time. Changbin: oh baby. just please don't be disappointed if it doesn't work out this time either. Jisung: i won't be because it's definitely going to work out. eeeee! i'm so excited! 
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Another thunderstorm ripples through the air.
Your heart beats quicker in anxiety, eyes squeezing shut as you grip tightly on the pillow, a light whimper leaving your lips. You feel the mattress shuffling underneath you and in the next minute, your ears are covered by Minho's hands. You stiffen as he edges closer to you, his chin resting on your shoulder as his palm pressed against your pinna, covering your ear completely to protect you from the loud sounds of the thunder.
"Minho, what—"
His hand on your right ear slightly shifts to the side as he bends forward to whisper into your ear, to amplify the sounds enough as a way to distract you.
"You never ever told me you were scared of thunderstorms."
Lee Minho is way too close to you to think straight. You feel his body pressed against your back, heat radiating from him to you through your oversized hoodie. His breath is harsh against your skin as he leans close to whisper into your ear. And all this in an attempt to forget the thunderstorm.
So far, it's working like magic. 
Your voice is almost small when you inform him, "We never happened to be in the same place during one," and Minho swears to God, he could lose it completely. All the self control to not confess and take you there is so ready to be shoved out of the window that all he can do is try and focus on worrying about your fears.
"I'll protect you," he mumbles so softly that you turn around to look at him. His eyes are bright in the soft lights in his room and as he lies by your side, so close that you can hear his heart that beats faster and his breath that is shallow, your lips part and you watch him.
You are fully justified for falling in love with this man. 
A man that tells you he'd protect you from your fears, god alone knows how, but the fact that they don't seem like empty words. A man that you know like the back of your hand and the same man that seems to have protected you all throughout your life, even if you have done the same. It was inevitable. Falling for Lee Minho is inevitable.
And that's why you kiss him. Because you're in love with him so badly that all you can zero in is him, him, him.
Your lips press against his, so softly for a split second. As if you are unsure. As if you know you could be ruining years of friendship over something the two of you could consider a mistake. 
You kiss him and suddenly it's the only thing that matters to you right now. Him, him, him. Your lips are slow and soft against him. It is almost as if you are reminding yourself that there has been nothing more morbidly right than this. To fall in love with your best friend. Minho's hand slowly lifts up to rest below your ear, his thumb caressing your cheek as your breath mingles only for a split second — one filled with hesitance and uncertainty — before you pull away, looking at your best friend.
It is just a second of a kiss and with Minho so stiff by your side, you panic, and ramble. "I'm sorry. I should have thought it could be unrequited. I like you and I should have asked—”
Minho crashes his lips on yours, so quickly that it takes your breath away and cuts your sentence in half, but you don't care. He pulls you towards him, hands cupping your face tightly and angling it to kiss you, encasing your lower lips in his as he moves against your pink ones. You let out a small gasp as you deepen the kiss, running your fingers down his spine, holding him as close as possible until there is no space left between the two of you. It is just you and him in this small room. Just you and him in focus. You can feel the beating of his heart against your chest. Loud, clear and unknown to you that it beats for you in this minute. That it has always been beating for you.
Minho presses his tongue to the seam of your lips and, the minute you let him in, he delves inside your mouth, tongue chasing after yours. Minho kisses you like he has finally achieved the greatest thing ever and he never wants to let it go. Minho kisses like he loves you and you feel it. You feel every ounce of it.
Your arms move up his back and tangle around his thick, strong neck. Playing with the ends of his roots, you suck on his lower lips before he pulls away and finally tells you, "I've always been in love with you, Y/N. Always."
Kissing you again, his thumb digs into the skin by your jaw as he delves deeper, as if he never wants to let you go. The air in the room heats up when your hand moves under his shirt, feeling his muscles under your skin and you moan against his lips. Minho lets go of your lips only to kiss the side of it and then your cheeks and then your jugular before he is littering kisses all over your neck. You moan explicitly, gripping on him and slightly grinding on his thigh. You feel your core heating up, arousal sticking to your panties and all you can think is,
“I want you.”
Minho swears to God that he has always loved confident women but when you shattered right before him and built your confidence right back up — that is the hottest thing he swears he has seen. That, and the fact that you had always been hot before his eyes.
“Really?” Minho lifts himself up and hovers on top of you.
“Really,” you decide to respond before you cup his face and pull his face closer to yours. You don't pull him in for a kiss just yet. Your eyes zero on him, trying to cancel out the loud thunderstorms in the background and just focus on the man before you that you love, that you've been in love unknowingly for a while. 
You just hold his face and learn. You try to remember every single detail of his face that you never focussed on before.
You realise over again that his eyes are your favourite thing. They are black as charcoal and yet still shimmer as if stars are trapped and enclosed beneath them. And when he narrows them to look at you with a daze, your heart throbs and you gulp. They make your heart hurt whenever they fix on you.
You know his skin is soft as you touch. As creamy and velvety as they are, you can't stop touching him. 
His mouth is a pretty shade of coral, plump and pouty and honestly so kissable it hurts to look at it for more than a few seconds. You wonder how you haven't driven yourself to kiss him yet. All these years.
Everything about his face is soft and delicate, that is till he turns a little to the side and angles it perfectly, his head backward and you can clearly see the sharpness of his jawline; the distinct manly cut that makes your mouth dry and your heart beat faster. 
“You are perfect,” you gulp, your eyes back on him and Minho smiles widely. His warm breath caresses your face and his forehead is pressed against yours immediately.
“You know what else is perfect, baby?”
“No,” your voice is airy, even though you already know what he is going to say. You know it and yet the thought causes your heart to skip a bit, and flutter a lot in your chest.
“You and everything you have to offer. You are not average. You are one of the most perfect women I've seen in my whole life, Y/N,” he says. As soon as the words spill from his mouth, your lips are on his, claiming his mouth, the same ones that whispered into your ear that there is nothing to be afraid when he's right there by your side.
He gasps loudly as your hands leave his face and move to his hair to pull him down towards you — you need him so close to you. Your fingers get lost in his thick locks as you tug on them, forcing him to bend a lot forward and gladly welcome the intrusion of your tongue.
His lips are as soft as feathers and they feel like what you think heaven feels like. The warmth you experience is so much more than the tingle of first kisses and those innocent butterflies have nothing on the wanting void of a pit in your nether regions and the slick in between your thighs. 
His hands slide down from your hips to reach behind your back and pull you upwards, only to tightly clasp around the curve of your bottom cheeks.
“Minho,” you groan against his lips after he pulls away from you. His lips are red and swollen, slick and shining with your saliva and so incredibly inviting you all over again and you fear that you may never want to stop kissing him for as long as you are breathing. You fear getting too addicted to this human – more than you already are – to a point where you need to be attached to him by the hip, to never let go of him.
Minho's lips move from your swollen lips to the curve of your jaw, down to the curved edges of your neck, sucking and kissing every exposed skin. 
His hand moves from your clothed arse to under your hoodie, hand pressed against your back as he pulls you closer and forwards, until your chests are pressed against one another. His mouth is everywhere and god, you feel infinite and powerful.
His lips hover on yours. He smiles widely and you think it's cute. He inches his chin forward, flicking your nose a little with his own, a shy smile on his lips as he silently asks the permission to claim your lips anew; all over again.
You nod your head to signal yes. You hold your breath and your eyes flutter shut, awaiting him and his warmth.
Minho's kiss is slow and delicate at first. It is drawn out in a way that makes you want more, so much more, that you want to pull him in and suck the life out of him and yet, at the same time, it is precious and laced with not only the passion of the moment but also the tenderness of a first time together.
It makes your insides twitch and your heart lunge and it fogs up all of your thoughts to the point you feel yourself drowning in the sensation of his lips, pressed tightly on your own. 
Your heart is beating quicker than ever in your chest, against your ribs, and you pull him even closer, so tight your chests have no choice but to heave against each other with every single breath you take. You don’t want to let him go, not now, not tomorrow, not ever.
Minho is something you desperately want to hold onto in your life. He knows your secrets, your everything. He knows what you like and how you like it. He seems to know everything and the thought of letting him go aches your heart and constraints your throat with a sob you wouldn't dare to let out. You want him to be completely yours.
And these thoughts turn you desperate. They force you to make the kiss deeper, to lick his lips and bite them down, to gulp down every sigh and whimper that comes out of him and make them your own. To make him yours.
Your eyes flutter shut, taking in the way his mouth moves over yours, arching further into him. You groan into his mouth and his grip on your back tightens instantly.
“I want you so much, Minho,” you whimper against him after your lips part from his. You lick your lips and gaze at him with your partially closed eyes. “So fucking much.”
“Then, have me. Take me,” Minho purrs against your exposed skin. In a minute, he pulls the oversized hoodie over you, leaving you in just your undergarments as he discards it to the side. His mouth moves over the skin above your breasts and his hand traces the bra you are wearing. He gazes at it and mumbles before latching his mouth back on your skin, “You are so fucking beautiful. Always have been.”
You gleam in pride and your body arches at the contact of his mouth on your skin. Your hands are on the side of his face as you pull him away.
“Can I?”
“Have me? Yes. Completely,” he smiles. He wonders if you are confident. That's all that he hopes when you look at him so unsure and so doubtingly. 
You wet your lips again quickly, your breath coming out in hot puffs of air. Your hands immediately rush to his top, roughly pushing it above. Minho helps you out and pulls it completely away. You are blinded by the passion burning inside of you, your hands eager to explore and touch every expanse of his glowing skin. You want to touch, feel, have a complete experience. You want Minho to remind you of everything you are missing out on.
Your lips attack his neck in a hurry, all rough and passionate on his tender, soft skin, blooming red roses that turn purple against it. You repeat your actions till he’s softly moaning out your name, almost purring them out that you feel yourself becoming slicker. His hands on your back pull you closer and into him so that you won’t stop tainting his flesh and slowly, his soul, in the best ways possible.
Minho whines and sighs and grunts for you. He doesn't hold himself back as his lips leave appreciation for who you are. He closes his eyes as he parts his lips to whimper out your name with every new thing you find that excites him and it drives you absolutely insane. 
You know you should not but you can’t stop wondering how he would sound like as you fuck him hard, rock on his cock to milk his orgasm, make him beg not to stop. You desperately want to break him and draw all these nice sounds out of him, but you know it would most probably be the other way round. Minho allows you to take control occasionally but you know he wants the lead. He wants to be the one to break you apart and pull you back together. 
He pulls back from you, his hands leaving your back and resting on either of your sides. Minho's dark hair brushes over his crescent lidded eyes and nearly shields the hungry, desperate gaze of them. His hand plays with the strap of your panties as his gaze flickers between affection and lust. He cocks his head to the side before asking, “You do want this, right?”
You nod, hoping it would be enough and that he would resume.
“I need to hear you say it out loud, baby,” he firmly says and you gulp.
“Yes, yes. Minho, fuck, I want this. I need this,” you whine, your eyes glassy, as you grip his forearm to lift yourself up and grate and move against the evident bulge on his jeans. 
Minho merely needs that verbal confirmation. He pulls away your panties, resting on your hips and you groan. Still hovering above you and his hands over your pubic mound, his fingers trail lower and you tug at your lower lip in anticipation. Easily, he finds your clit, and begins to rub in slow, languid, lazy motion, up and down, waiting for the moan he so loves to hear from you to spill from your mouth. He grins when he hears those little whimpers and you feel your legs lose mobility from the pleasure he brings you with just a flick of his finger. 
Your back slightly arches off the soft mattress upon the bed when his finger leaves your clit to draw a line up your wet slit, collecting as much of your arousal as he can before slipping his glistening fingers out to admire them in the light. Your cheeks taint pink in embarrassment.
“Fuck,” Minho moans, taking his coated finger into his mouth to suck your juices from it. His eyes flutter shut as if he’s tasting the sweetest aphrodisiac ever known and your lips part at this sight. Lee Minho looks irresistible and you want him, completely.
“God,” he groans. Minho slides himself down your body until he’s in level with your pussy. His eyes gazed at it in sheer adoration and your hand slapped against your mouth. He takes two fingers to spread your lips apart for a better view. “You’re dripping, baby girl.”
You wail as he drags a finger up and down your slit, playfully teasing your fold, making you whine his name out loud. The way you plead for him, beg for him, grind down on his teasing fingers, all set a fire inside you. This has been what you had been craving for so long. The ability of this man to cloud your thoughts and set your body on fire makes you yearn for him even more.
“Minho,” you cry out, whimpering underneath him. “Fingers. I need you. Please, Minho.”
You gasp, your voice airy, when the tip of his finger tentatively slips into you while your fingers dig at his shoulders between your thighs. “Minho, I want you. I just really want you. I need to feel you. Please.”
He drags his finger out of you before you clutch onto him, feeling the need to be overwhelmed. He presses his thumb on your clit and a whimper leaves your mouth. 
“Minho.” And he slides his digit in again almost as if on cue. He pumps his finger in and out of you as his thumb harshly rubs circles on your clit. Your hand leaves your mouth and grabs your hair as the other digs further into his shoulder. 
His mouth leaves hot air against the skin covering your acetabulum and you shudder. His lips graze from there till your thigh before biting on them, sucking them deliriously and leaving you as a whimpering mess.
“Minho, fuck!” You scream, your fingers grabbing your hair to hold control of your body. 
“That's it, baby,” he says against the skin of your thighs. “How I've wanted those beautiful lips to scream out my name from when I've felt them.”
Minho adds another finger and your eyes are screwed shut as he curls them within you and you gasp at the feeling of being widened. You are elated and you feel your arousal leaking down your thighs. He rubs your inside and your clitoris faster and you push your hips towards him, moving with his pace. Minho is also leaving beautiful purple marks in a trail on your thigh and you gape in awe.
You find it all too much. Your emotions are all over the place and your hormones rise up. The movement of his fingers inside you and around your clit, his lips attacking your erogenous spots, kissing, biting and licking short stripes on them. It finally gets to you and you scream his name out in pleasure. Your first orgasm comes crashing down upon you, blinding you. You release all over his fingers and Minho helps you ride out your high as he drags his finger repeatedly but this time, slower than what had been. 
Your head lifts up and hits the pillow slightly as it tilts away. Minho moves upwards, hovering over your face and smiles. You smile back. You are so happy and you do not know how to put it into words.
“Minho?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks?”
“For what?” He looks at you quizzically. 
“That was my first orgasm in months now that wasn't brought about by my own fingers,” you smile wearily and Minho leans forwards and kisses your forehead.
"Should have come to me," he laughs.
"Didn't know if I'd be ruining our friendship."
"Pfft," he scoffs, before kissing you again, his lips gliding against yours and piecing in as if they were always meant to be against yours. "I've been in love with you forever."
"Took me a while to know my own feelings," you mumbles. “Also,” you continue, hoping he listens to your request. “Can I . . . ride you?”
Minho is stunned. There are so many things about you that stuns him and maybe it's the way you try to take control that make you look so much hotter before his eyes. 
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” you plead. “If that is not a bother to you.”
“Why would it? Your wish is my command, but only for this night. Next time, my love, we do this my way,” he teases and winks and your core throbs at his words.
Minho pulls himself away from your body, pulling his shirt over his head and his denim down and away. As he flings his clothes aside and relaxes against the mattress, his cock springs free against his stomach, leaking with milky precum. You sit up beside the space Minho has taken over and watch him and his cock deliriously and lustfully.
You sit up, crawling over to straddle his lap, nervousness setting into your stomach. You’re really doing this. You gulp and swallow the saliva as you look at Minho, whose gaze gives you comfort and confidence. The muscles in your arm stiffens as you grip his shoulder for stability and Minho notices.
“It’s okay,” he reassures you, sensing your reluctance and worry. He pushes back the stray hair falling over your eyes. “You're doing wonderful, babygirl. You are finally all mine. What a pretty girl and all to myself now."
You nod, biting down on your lower lip, and tugging at it harshly, cheeks heating up at his words, arousal gushing out as you look down before aligning with his cock. You want this. You needed this release.
As your folds, dripping with thick, sticky arousal, brush the tip of his hardened cock, you feel a shudder run down your spine. You instinctively allow yourself to lower further, taking the rest of him in you swiftly with the help of your arousal. Sinking down around his dick and feeling him fully wrapped around your clutching walls has you moaning out his name, gasping and panting for air, “Fuck, Minho.”
You rock your hips into him, trying this as you picture it to be, already finding yourself tightening and clenching around his thick length. He fills you up so nicely, stuffing you perfectly full and you salivate. Your lips parts and you find your hips moving on their own accord.
As much as Minho wants to give you complete power over this, it isn't like him and he wishes he could be better. Minho takes your hips in his hands, taking control of your movements to raise you up, leaving you empty and whining. You clench around nothing but air and your own walls, desperate to sink back down. “Minho,” you whine, your lower lip puckers forwards and you feel sad.
As his hand grip around your hips to get a better hold, he slams you back down on his cock, hard, causing you to scream. “Minho, ah!”
He continuously guides you in a rhythmic movement, throwing his head back into his pillows and groaning. You are glad he is helping you out because you know you could not have done it on your own after having just ridden out your high.
The sheen of sweat glistening on his chest catches your eye as he pants. The way his eyes clenched shut and his mouth hangs open with pleasure only makes you move faster around his cock. The sight before you makes you want to see him fucked out further. You want him to crumble under you because of you. 
You ride him, bouncing on his dick and clenching when you feel yourself reaching your climax for the second time that night. Minho’s finger moves down and slips between your sweat soaked bodies to rub your clit, pushing you even further over the edge. Minho knows how to make a woman putty in his hands and you are a living witness of this.
“Are you going to come?” He asks, breathlessly, his voice airy and light, almost floating away. He pulls his head forward to kiss your collarbones, sucking harsh bruises against your skin, continuing further down the existing purple bruises.
“Y-Yes,” you sigh, lacing your fingers through his hair and tugging on the dark strands. “Mhm, fuck, you feel so good, Minho.” You lean forward and the motion causes Minho to whine. You quickly catch it as your lips fall on his. His lips enclose yours and he kisses you slowly and passionately as you move on his cock, lazily.
Words, unfiltered and raw, spill out from your mouth after your lips leave his as you feel the high that is creeping up slowly within you. “Minho, fuck. Oh fuck, you feel so good.”
“Then, come.”
Minho moans against your neck as he feels you, his finger rubbing your clit, “Babygirl, oh fuck. Come all over my cock.”
Minho’s other hand that is not occupied leaves your hip and moves upwards to find their place on your neck. His fingers gently wrap themselves around your neck and his eyes flicker a mischief that makes you wetter than you already are. He presses his fingers against your neck with pressure and you choke. Your mouth opens wide and your tongue falls out slightly resting on your lower lip. Your eyes roll back and your walls clench around Minho’s cock tightly.
Minho learns that your dirty liking for choking is incredibly hot. Seeing you like this is what he knows would get him to come when you are not around. Your fucked out expression as you gasp for air makes Minho plunge into you harder and you choke harder.
A final flick of his finger over your sensitive button and a bit more pressure over your neck are all it takes for your body to flood with pleasure and ecstasy. Your legs tighten around Minho's waist, curling in as you ride out your high for as long as possible, still moving your hips against him. His fingers let go of your neck and you breath loudly, taking in huge gulps of air.
Not long after your undoing, he comes inside you, coating your walls with his seed as you feel his length pulsate within you.
Once your body falls limp against his chest, equally fucked out and panting for air, you feel him going soft inside you. He lifts you up, slowly slipping out of you and gently laying you by his side. His fingers rub small circles on your hips after pulling you closer into him. 
“Hey,” you say and smile. 
Minho kisses your forehead and then, the peak of your nose, and finally, kisses your lips, softly. It isn't lustful or anything. Just plain passion seeping from him to you. You feel his admiration and an emotion you fear to mistake for love. He pulls away and smiles, “Hey, beautiful.”
He comes closer and licks the side of your neck, where he had wrapped his fingers out. The one fantasy that you are so in love with. He peppers soft kisses around it and mumbles an apology. 
“No,” you quickly stop him. “That was everything. I— I really like you." Pausing, the thought crashes your head, post your high and you mumble, "Fuck, I fell in love with my best friend." 
You nuzzle into his chest after he pulls back, your arms wrapping around his body as you calm yourself. Minho chuckles into your ear, "Yes, yes. You clearly did. What do we do now?"
"Take responsibility." You mumble as you slowly find yourself feeling sleepy. Your eyes are slowly drooping and your voice lowers in tone, words drifting away almost, “You better take responsibility for my feelings and take care of me.”
“It'd truly be my honour,” Minho mumbles, lifting you slowly to push his one arm beneath your neck. He uses the other hand to push your hair away from your face. Kissing your forehead, lips lingering for a while, he smiles to himself, laughing slightly as he asks you, "Was the schlong good?”
You laugh softly, snuggling into his chest, fist against it as you try to fall asleep, thunderstorms long forgotten. Kissing his chest, you giggle, "Best ever schlong I have ever had, baby. All mine to keep now."
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Jisung: can you pick me up? Changbin: this late? Jisung: i just wanted them to confess. not fuck like bunnies. useless fact i learnt today: they are both loud in bed. Changbin: i'm laughing off the bed literally!!! also!!! Jisung: yeah? Changbin: and they were roommates! Jisung: god, they were roommates. 🙄❤️
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4K notes · View notes
lovelosescongrats · 2 years
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ranking mcc skins: mcc20
reject the reddit mcc players tier list, embrace the skin tier list. /hj
before we get into the madness that is me, a sapphic ranking pixels, some things!
1) this is all just my opinion. keep it to yourself if you have any shit to say.
2) all the skins that were made by fans are really great and I wish I had your level of talent and skill! please do not take this seriously at all I'm just messing around.
3) I will not give as detailed explanations for some rankings. they're cool, I liked them well enough, I just have nothing extra to say
now let's get into it:
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link here to make your own tierlist. made by yours truly. please tag me if you're using it!
da vinky wishes he could
the highest tier! i want to stare at all these skins lovingly for hours.
eret. as always, she is giving me A Look. the slit, the off shoulder, the high waistline, the floor length gown. I could not pull this off but he is doing beautifully in it. (also i am bisexual)
gumi. she's giving me e-girled red riding hood and it goes surprisingly well together. (again i am bisexual)
elaina. for some reason, this reminds me a lot of jan's tulle look in s12 of drag race? it's very pleasant to look at, the brown/orange/white ensemble is a delight. (did you remember that I am bisex- *gunshots*)
5up. to this day I'm still not sure if his skin is a turnip or an onion, but nevertheless it's very adorable. the idea of stuffing a vegetable into a 90s style colorful sportswear is very funny to me, so he's way up there. also, the little axolotl is so cute? kudos to whoever made this one I am gently cradling it in my hands.
scar. frankly, it's scar and it's his first mcc, so he could literally show up in a white t-shirt and jeans but I'd still be like scar!!!! and plop him on the top. BUT he did not so I feel very justified in putting him there! the little flower (that's matching with grian's, shoutout to all the desert duo/scarian fans), that scarf, that's a dapper looking man right there.
pete. to be fair pete has an advantage because his base skin is along the same color palette as his team, so he's very easy to look at. (as you will see later on, this is extremely important for me) the waistcoat, the belt, the chain, everything fits together so well.
I was delighted. good job
seapeekay. red continues to be the best dressed team. points to whoever made the skin, I adore it.
illumina. I love gradients. where's his flower crown though?
false. falsie!!! *twirls hair and giggles* she looks so so so good. she was this close to making it to top tier for me, but unfortunately a lot of the colors in her outfits was to similar to one another and made it hard for me to see the details, so she had to stay in this tier. but the flower crown, the skirt, the jacket, its all just *chef's kiss*
cubfan. flower crown, jacket, nice.
tapl. green and pink is a color combination hard to pull off, but this entire team (minus the obvious) all looked so good! the flower as a knee patch were a good touch too. the cardigan seem very soft. a man i would trust.
shubble. ahah when girls do The Thing! (<- existing) the overalls and the bandanna is lovely and the details are amazing. both her and tubbo could have made it higher if not for those socks/leg warmer things. i don't know why some people are so obsessed with them-they're impossible to wear and essentially functionless? also realistically they make your legs look way shorter so :/ no
tubbo. see above, very cute.
scott. cute gecko pattern, looks very comfy.
the captain. gold buttons very pretty, light green collar also pretty.
ryguyrocky. why are his eyes like that.
antfrost. to quote scar, did I just see a cat go by with a track suit on? the concept is hilarious and the execution good.
gem. I adore cc!gem, c!gem, and this skin is adorable. (ahah women amirite)
hbomb. put more beefy men in crop tops 2k22.
oli. giving zombie jock, cool.
quig. open shirt, also cool.
ponk. just a color re-texture but still easy to look at. am verging close to dropping a tier though.
kara. see above
purpled. also see above.
jackmanifold. red/pink good combo, nice flower.
passing grade. star for trying
niki. it's nice, but the overall thing just ticks me the wrong way. (shoutout to her makeup on mcc day though almost made me cry cc!niki is so pretty)
puffy. that's just a dragonballz costume.
punz. see above.
martyn. I want to like it so much but I despise bow ties and it doesn't have anything else special to redeem it so :/ sorry king
ranboo. why does it look like he's in green cargo pants oh god- +1 for the suspender, -5 for the cargo shorts I hate those with a burning passion
preston. I understand they wanted to keep the most iconic part but the red and blue is clashing and throwing the whole thing off. bad on the eyes.
sam. see above, the green and blue do not mesh well together.
connor. again, just a color re-texture and there's not enough distinct shadowing to move it upwards. looking very cozy saves him from a lower tier, though.
sb737. having more of a gradient would have moved him up.
soft *meh*
it was hard to put anyone in this section. i'm sorry, guys.
purpled. dude, thats just Orange. also, you look so similar to other blonde white boy in your group that I had to check four times to make sure I didn't get you wrong, so in the meh tier you go.
philza. his original skin was already green, so there wasn't enough of a change to make me like it. sorry.
abhorred. beloathed.
unsuprisingly, it was very easy to put these four fuckers in this section. ps, the hermbi discord unanimously put these four in the shame corner. completely deserved, I'm not in the slightest bit sorry.
wilbur. for the love of god please put in some effort. where is your team spirit, white boy?
sneegsnag. no.
fruit. sir who peeled you and revealed that you are raw meat?
tommy. stop learning from wilbur's bs.
who would have won mcc20 if it was based on their skin and also up to me?
team totals:
in first place, tied three ways: 13 marks
red rabbits: the red and black is an iconic combo. i am maybe in love with 3/4 of this group.
cyan creepers: well dressed dapper boys
aqua axolotols: still winning no matter what because they are just that great
in second place, tied two ways: 10 marks
yellow yaks: incredibly well dressed
blue bats: special mention to the desaturated skins because they're bats. devil's in the details.
in third place, tied four ways: 9 marks
orange ocelots
lime llamas: blame wilbur
green geckos
purple pandas
in last, because of fruit and tommy's crimes: 5 marks
pink parrots
this took me almost the whole evening. I'm not sure if it's worth it. nevertheless, I will be doing this once more when mcc21 rolls around! stay around for that if you want to.
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snackhobi · 4 years
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pairing: jimin x reader / word count: 9.1k / genre: smut (NSFW, 18+)
summary: you wouldn’t mind your cute neighbour being such a shameless fuckboy if a) the walls weren’t so thin and b) he didn’t seem intent on adding you as another notch in his bedpost. 
but there’s only so much you can resist park jimin, especially once he gets that peach involved.
warnings: sexually explicit content, Jimin being completely shameless/a lowkey ho, messy peach eating, mentions of masturbation, oral sex (m + f receiving), overstimulation, protected sex, multiple orgasms (f), dirty talk and some cursing, hmm I think that’s it?
a/n: I was so close to calling this ‘jimin and the f*cking peach’ as some terrible homage to ‘james and the giant peach’ 😂🤧 as always I would like to thank @hobi-gif for beta reading this, putting up with me having a meltdown at her, and encouraging me to write smut at work rather than doing my job, ty queen xoxo
--
It’s official. Park Jimin is the neighbour from hell.
He’d tricked you, to start with. With those cherubic features, those doe eyes, and his cute little smile? He looks like an angel. A sweet, innocent angel, one who’d knocked shyly on your door and presented you with a small selection of chocolates when he’d moved into the apartment next to yours. Your heart had gone boom boom at the sight of that cute smile, the slip of teeth, the way his lovely face had scrunched up. 
Nowadays, whenever you see that face, you want to punch it.
Well. Not punch it. Maybe slap it a little. Because Park Jimin is a fiend. 
Your studio apartment is cheap for many reasons. The plumbing is creaky and the heating isn’t exactly great but those are small sacrifices for such low rent—ones you’re willing to make. Creaking doesn’t bother you and throw blankets exist for a reason, right? You get a balcony and a parking spot, which is more than you can say for a lot of other places in this price range, so you’ll take the negatives for these positives.
But you’d give up all the things you love about this cheap flat for some sound proofing.
Because Park Jimin fucks. 
A lot. 
He’d been nothing but lovely for the first few weeks. You’d barely been aware of his existence, minus when you could hear him in the bathroom—your flats are mirrored, rooms sharing walls, so you’d been washing your face when you’d heard his shower start up and then the sound of his dulcet tones drifting through the wall. That had actually been really nice; Jimin can hit some high notes, and it had been a pleasant backdrop as you’d cleansed your face. It had been another bullet point you’d added to the list of things you thought were cute about him (along with his face, his laugh, his smile), and you’d stupidly started to develop a tiny little crush on this boy-next-door, thinking him some soft, kind thing.
But then he’d started to have people over.
You’ve lost count of how many days you’ve had to listen to the moans and gasps that echo through your walls. You can’t escape from it. As a freelance programmer, you’re pretty much always working from home, so it’s not like you can get away from the sounds of pleasure that shudder through Jimin’s flat and into your own.
It’s never consistent, either. There’s not a single hour of the day that’s off limits to Park Jimin. Morning, afternoon, night; the boy is always ready to go, apparently. And judging from the sounds through the walls? He never leaves anyone unsatisfied either.
Which, like, fine. People fuck. You get it. You’re not judging. You just wish it wasn’t so loud. You have to sleep, for God’s sake. But it’s not like you can knock on a new neighbour’s door and be like hey, I appreciate you have an incredibly active sex life, but can you keep it down, please?
So you’d bit your tongue. You’d gritted your teeth to bear it. You’d still smile at Jimin if you ever passed in the hallway, acknowledged him with a small nod, exchanged pleasantries, all the neighbourly stuff that you’d do with anyone. You’d just invested in some good earplugs and thought that was it.
And then Jimin had started doing his morning yoga routine outside. 
You start each day with a cup of tea on your balcony, watering your hydrangeas and enjoying the dawn sun that lifts up over the horizon alongside your plants. It’s a small, singular moment of quiet in an otherwise dull day and you treasure that serenity.
Well. Treasured. Past tense. Because Jimin has invaded this part of your life, too.
The first time Jimin had unrolled his yoga mat on the balcony adjacent to yours, he’d been dressed in a deceptively unassuming outfit—a loose white t-shirt and leggings that hugged every inch of his calves and thighs and shapely ass, which you had pointedly Not Looked At. He’d tilted his head at you with a smug little smile flickering at the edge of his lips, and when he’d greeted you good morning, you’d responded in turn, even if you were still annoyed at how he’d interrupted your afternoon nap the day before with the sound of his headboard smacking into the wall repeatedly. You were still fairly new neighbours and you still felt like you had to be polite, even if he was starting to fray your nerves.
And then he’d started to bend. 
Now, you’ll be the first to admit that you don’t know much about yoga. But you’d swear Jimin was choosing poses that did the utmost to display his flexibility, the flex of his muscles and twist of his limbs, balancing his body on his arms before easing into a pose that had him bent in two, head towards his toes—and with how he had his back to you this meant you got full glimpse of his ass, straining against his leggings, the way his loose shirt slipped up his body to reveal the lines of his stomach and chest, how his face was still twisted into that little smirk even if it was upside down.
Staring at you.
You’d promptly stopped watering your hydrangeas and walked inside your flat, shutting the sliding door behind you.
Jimin is relentless.
He’s pretty and he knows it. All that shy, new-kid-on-the-block innocence he’d had initially is completely gone, and all he does is flirt, flirt, flirt. He winks at you. Stands a little too close whenever you talk. Lets his eyes flicker down to your lips, trail over every inch of you, lashes fluttering when he catches you watching, unashamed and unabashed. He frequently just… hangs around on his balcony. Not topless, no, but he may as well be, his thotty muscle tees doing nothing to hide him from your eyes.
(The worst thing, though, is when you catch him unawares. When he’s tired and clearly not expecting you to be awake, too, his eyes sleepy and his hair ruffled; a little vulnerable, a lot softer than he usually presents himself. Curled up on the small seat on his balcony with a hot drink in his hand, phone in the other, his screen throwing blue-tinted light over the easing lines of his features.
You wish Jimin was like that all the time. But the second he sees you, his eyes flicker, and his brows lift, and his mouth curls, and once again you rue the day you had a fuckboy move in next door to you.)
It’s not that Jimin isn’t hot. It’s not that you wouldn’t fuck him, either. But you have no interest in being some sort of convenient hook-up for him, purely there by circumstance, fate, whatever you want to call it. You dread to think of him sending you haha wyd x texts whenever he feels like having sex and you just happen to be nearby. So you weather all of his obvious come-ons and swerve him something chronic, even if he seems intent on making his attraction to you obvious.
You’ve been managing it for months. But as time goes on, your patience wears thinner and thinner, an atom-thick layer of fortitude the only thing keeping you from grabbing Park Jimin and kissing him and/or killing him. It doesn’t help that you haven’t fucked for a while now, and you’re reminded of this every time you hear another pornstar moan through the wall (the people Jimin brings home seem to like hamming it up for effect), every time you see another mosaic of hickeys laid across the column of Jimin’s gorgeous throat, every time you see the way his yoga outfits do nothing to protect the delicious shape of his body from your eyes.
You dig your fingers into your palms. It’s fine. It’s okay. You can handle Park Jimin and his overt sexual energy, oozing out of him almost every second of every day.
It’s a little harder to handle how he still seems sweet despite his fuckboy nature. How he picks your parcels up for you. How he lets you use his laundry detergent when you run out. How he lets you keep food in his fridge when yours breaks down and you have to wait for a replacement. How he sheds that fuckboy facade whenever it seems like you genuinely need help, how you’ve heard his soft phone calls through the wall, to his friends, his family, sweet and kind and supportive.
Park Jimin is a multi-dimensional being, for sure, and maybe you sometimes wish he was actually genuinely interested in you as a person and not as a lay, so you could peel back those layers to the lovely core at the centre of his being.
But it’s fine. You can handle this stupid yearning and pining. You can handle the knowledge that Park Jimin is a genuine gentleman who just happens to like fucking, is open in his desire for it, and is apparently Very Good at it. It’s difficult, but you can do it.
You can do it.
The date you set up with someone from Tinder ends up being disappointing and lacklustre. You’d escaped before dessert, unable to put up with one more second of this asshole going on and on about stocks, and investments, and trading, or whatever, cursing the day you’d decided to swipe on him. You’re so sick of your luck (or lack thereof) with guys. (At least the food had been nice.)
Of course Jimin sees you schlepping your way back into your apartment, disappointment obvious in the line of your shoulders and lips; it doesn’t take a genius to clock your date outfit, cute as it is, makeup and hair soft. But the night has barely begun and here you are, stepping back into your flat. Alone. 
“Bad date?” Jimin asks, voice gentle, and you just snort.
“Just like the rest of them,” you reply with a small sigh, before shutting your door quietly behind you, missing the look on your neighbour’s face.
Jimin, to his credit, eases off after this. You’re not sure if it’s due to a misplaced sense of pity or something, but even if he still smiles and flirts lightly with you, it’s less… salacious. Still there, still obvious, just a little softer. You hate how this has you feeling grateful towards him, because he’s still got so many fuckboy tendencies that it should outweigh this gentler side of his flirtation, but your traitorous heart still goes gooey every time Jimin smiles at you.
But then. 
But then.
There’s that fucking peach.
You’re just chilling on your balcony, sipping at a glass of lemonade in the warmth of the afternoon when you hear Jimin’s door sliding open. You flick your eyes over at the sound, watching the way Jimin slips out onto his own balcony, how he throws something up in the air and catches it with ease, a flick of the wrist, a curl of the fingers each time he catches it again.
He hasn’t had any fuckbuddies over for a while. A few weeks, almost a month. It’s the longest Jimin’s gone without having sex for as long as he’s started having people over and you’d been sort of concerned. Which, yeah, you know it sounds super weird when you think about it, especially considering how much you complain about Jimin to your friends—help, my fuckboy neighbour hasn’t fucked anyone in nearly a month so I’m worried if his dick has fallen off or something.
(Well, actually, you know his dick is still attached, based off the little gasps and moans he lets out whenever he pleasures himself in lieu of fucking someone else. You’ll take this secret to the grave but those noises that Jimin lets out have been the melody you use to reach your own peaks, although you’re a lot quieter than he is whenever you touch yourself, biting your lip and muffling the wet sounds of your fingers thrusting into your cunt under layers of blankets. You’d never give Jimin the satisfaction of knowing that the mental image of him fucking into his fist and cumming over his stomach and chest is what throws you over your own edge, toe-curling orgasms that shake through your body in time with Jimin’s own.)
Anyway. He looks loose limbed and relaxed when he saunters into view, utterly unsurprised by your presence behind your window box of hydrangeas, giving you his usual, sultry smile. 
He’s started to ramp up his flirtations again. This smirk is one which you’ve learned not to respond to. You just stare levelly back at him, unimpressed as you start to water your flowers, which does nothing to dissuade him. It never does. He clearly revels in the challenge.
Jimin keeps his eyes locked with yours as he lifts his hand to his lips. You catch a glimpse of what he was throwing and catching—a ripe, flush peach, tiny droplets of water shimmering on its fuzz, freshly washed.
And then he starts to eat it.
The peach yields immediately to the press of his teeth. Juice bursts out of its softness, running down his lips, his chin; he makes no moves to wipe it away, the lewd sound of his slurps as he curls his tongue into the fruit, messy and sweet.
It’s shameless. He’s shameless. His gaze is unwavering as he stares at you, his mouth glistening with the peach’s juices, the only sound the wet smack of his lips and tongue as he licks up the honeyed liquid that drips from his skin, curving around the fruit as he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing.
Water’s been trickling from your small can onto the hydrangeas, cascading over the plants; the soil is waterlogged now, but you haven’t noticed, fixated on the way Jimin is looking at you as he wantonly eats out this peach.
Drip drip, goes the watering can.
Drip drip, goes the peach.
By the time there’s nothing more than the pit in his hand, Jimin is a mess. His fingers and mouth and chin shine with peach juice, eyes dark and heavy as he watches the way you drink the sight of him in, the way his tongue slowly drags over his full lips, catching the sweetness that lingers.
The second he puts his tongue to his fingers to get the stickiness on them, that’s it. You watch the way he sucks his fingers into his mouth and promptly put the watering can down and turn on your heel to walk inside, slamming the balcony door shut behind you.
You’re done. You’re only human. You’ve spent months with Jimin parading himself in front of you, seen the way he contorts his body every morning in an unnecessarily complex sun salutation, listened to the way his voice rises when he cums; the peach is the metaphorical cherry on top, and you’re just. Over. It. 
You hammer your palms against your neighbour's door, rap-rap-rapping on the wood, your blood rising and your heart thudding in your chest, every part of you tense, wound up, pent up. The door swings open to reveal Jimin, his chin still slick with sweet peach, lips curling up in a self-satisfied smile when he sees you.
“Park Jimin.” Your voice shakes and you hate yourself for it, hate the way Jimin’s eyes glitter at the sound, the little hitch in your breath. “You are a fucking menace, you know that?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says. He leans against the doorframe, effortlessly gorgeous, hip cocked, head tilted. He lifts his hand, and there’s a heavy moment of tension as you watch him slowly swipe a thumb over the last remnant of juice on his chin, before his tongue lolls out of his mouth and he licks the final taste of peach from his fingers.
When you grab hold of his collar his expression shifts from something coy into something far more self satisfied, months of his brazen come-ons finally culminating in this—you, shoving him backwards into his apartment, kicking the door shut behind you.
“I swear,” you say. “I swear to God—”
“You swear? I can think of better things you could be doing with your mouth,” Jimin says, and then laughs when you scowl at him. “Damn, you’re so hot when you’re mad.”
“You are infuriating,” you bite out, and Jimin just laughs again, his whole body shaking, every part of him still loose and relaxed even as you continue to tighten your grip on his clothing, feeling every motion of his body under your hands. You hate how pretty he is, even now, utterly unafraid of your frustration—the brightness of his eyes and his smile, that undercurrent to it all, the way his hands slide so smoothly around your waist, your hips, sliding down to grope at your ass.
“I know,” he agrees, still giggling, and then he kisses you.
Jimin dives straight in, no holds barred, and you immediately melt into putty under his touch. He lets out a hum of satisfaction into your mouth as your hands go lax and slide down his chest. You can still taste the peach on his lips, his tongue, licking into his mouth.
You’ve thought about this mouth more times than you’d like to admit: the full swell of his lips, the little curve of his cupid’s bow, how it’d feel pressed against your own, and honestly? It’s so much better than you’d let yourself imagine it to be.
He nips at your bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue, and you bite off a gasp when he pulls you forward, grinding against you. You shudder. Jimin’s mouth is a pleased curve against your own before he pulls away, murmuring in your ear in a voice that’s equal parts sultry and sweet.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, kissing the sensitive skin of your jaw just under your earlobe, making you shiver. “Just relax. You’re always so tense.”
“Maybe that’s because my neighbour keeps me up all night,” you say, but your voice is weak, no strength behind your words, breath stolen out of you at the way Jimin starts to trail his lips down your neck, across your throat. “I find that constantly getting my sleep interrupted—oh, oh—”
Jimin sucks at the hollow of your neck, the delicate skin there so sensitive to his touch, the warmth of his lips magnified, every nerve ending alight with pleasure. Your hands have slid into his hair and you unintentionally tighten your grasp, fingers tugging at his dark locks, and Jimin bares his teeth against your skin.
It’s maybe a little embarrassing how wet you are just from a little making out. But after months of Jimin teasing you and putting you on edge, coupled with how long it’s been since you've had sex? You’re allowed to be a little desperate. All the small frustrations you were about to voice die on your tongue, slipping away from you as Jimin starts to walk you backwards with a confidence that shows just how often he’s done this—leading people to his bed, never taking his hands off you.
By the time Jimin eases you to lie down, you feel breathless. He hovers above you with that satisfied smile flickering at the edge of his lips, taking in the sight of you, finally underneath him—lips kiss swollen, exquisite, all the sharp words on your tongue softened and gone, goosebumps trailing down your skin. You tug at his collar, which catches him off guard; he sways forward and almost hits his face against yours, but before he can spend too long looking smug at your desperation you capture his lips again. You melt into the mattress, hooking a foot over his calf and revelling in the weight of him between your legs, your hips flush, and how hard he’s getting through those stupidly tight leggings of his.
When he grinds against you, the outline of his cock pressed up against your cunt, an embarrassing whine leaves your lips and trembles against Jimin’s own. Jimin goes still before pulling away from the open-mouthed kiss and when you see the expression on his face you slap a hand over your mouth, burning with shame.
“Oh.” He sounds delighted. “You’re noisy, huh?”
“Shut up,” you say, though your words are muffled against your palm. He grinds down again, a slow and deep roll of his hips that lets you feel how hard he is, and a noise shudders out the back of your throat, audible around your hand.
“It’s hot.” There’s that little smirk on Jimin’s lovely lips, every inch of him dripping self confidence. He knows how you’re entirely at his mercy, in spite of your words; your voice is weak. “You’re normally so quiet.”
“Some of us try to be considerate and think about our neighbours.”
Jimin just smiles, pulling your hand away from your mouth before gently kissing your palm, a motion that’s surprisingly tender and makes you pause. 
“Trust me.” His voice is low. “I do think about my neighbour.”
Your breath hitches when he slides his free hand under your shirt, trailing his fingers over the softness of your stomach. He pulls the fabric up, letting his gaze rove over the bared skin. The way Jimin looks at you makes you feel like you’re the only woman in the world, like he’s never seen anyone prettier.
You wonder if he looks at his other fuckbuddies like this.
The thought slides away from you as Jimin dips his head and starts to kiss your throat again. You tilt your head back as his lips trail across the soft skin, his hands coming to rest under your breasts, contained as they are by your bra; once he coaxes you to sit up, it only takes him a few moments to strip your upper body, kneeling between your spread legs as he starts to trail his hands over the parts of you that are now bared to him.
“Pretty,” he says. You’d roll your eyes if he didn’t sound so reverent, and also if you weren’t distracted by the way he flicks his thumbs over your hardening nipples, your core clenching as he does, biting your lip to stop yourself from making a sound. A frown flits across Jimin’s face and he lifts one of those thumbs away from your breast, dragging your lip away from your teeth, letting his grasp linger so your lips are parted. “Don’t do that. I've been waiting for months to hear you properly.”
Before you can reply, he kisses you again, licking into your mouth and swallowing down the noise you make when he drags his hand between the valley of your breasts, down your stomach and settling between your legs, running his fingers over your cunt, the feeling dulled by layers of fabric even though he presses with intent. Your hips jolt at the sensation, and Jimin repeats the motion, dragging the fabric across your flushed lips.
“Jimin.” Your voice is a gasp against his mouth, and you can’t keep the pleading out of your tone, desperation bleeding into every letter of your words. “Please.”
He just hums, sounding pleased, and a breath of surprise escapes you as he pushes you back against the pillows. He wastes no time in getting to his prize, drawing a scattered constellation of kisses that trail across your chest, your nipples, your stomach, the line of your hip bones as you lift up so he can pull your shorts and underwear off. You’re entirely naked underneath him, bare and wet, cunt flushed and shining, and Jimin groans at the sight.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, fingers digging into your thighs as he pulls your legs wider. Your cheeks burn as Jimin stares at your pussy, but you can’t help but feel a pulse of self-satisfaction at the visible twitch of his cock in his stupid yoga leggings. “You’re so wet.”
You should probably feel embarrassed, but by now you’ve thrown all your previous inhibition to the winds. You’ve ended up somewhere you’d privately sworn you were never going to—in Park Jimin’s bed, leaned up against his pillows, laid out for him to touch and take and have, every inch of you desperate for it. There’s nothing in your brain or body but arousal and need. So instead of letting out a snip of a remark you just cant your hips towards him, another pleading sound slipping from your lips.
He gives you what you want. He dips his head and trails his lips and tongue down, down, down, wet and hot, until they press against your cunt. He looks at you with the same hooded eyes as earlier, motions of his mouth an echo of his peach eating, sloppy and messy; he’s unabashed in the way he slides his mouth over you, lips slick and tongue hot, sliding over every sensitive inch—sucking your clit, licking your folds, burying his face between your legs and drinking up every sweet drip of your juices. 
You can’t help but make noise. Small gasps that slide into moans of pleasure, hitches in your breath that make your chest jump and your breasts shake; Jimin lets out noises too, muffled against your cunt, sounds that let you know he’s enjoying himself almost as much as you. It’s honestly pretty fucking hot, the way your own pleasure seems to turn him on, how he chases that feeling, eyes blown as he takes in every one of your reactions, repeating the motions that are affecting you the most.
The sight of him between your legs has you tensing. He continues to stare up at you, the curve of your stomach when you bow towards him, the fall of your breasts, which he slides his hands over, cupping them in his palms, pinching your hardened buds, layering sensation on sensation, never taking his mouth off you.
When he presses one finger inside, and then another, both thrusting firm and deep as he mouths at your clit, you tangle a hand into his hair. He watches the way your hips jump from the sensation of his tongue directly on your clit, and does it again, and again, your voice crescendoing from the explosion of sensation, how it’s too much, before he circles his lips around it and sucks messily. Your brain registering nothing but his lips and tongue against you, the hands that are trailing up and down your sides and still skimming across your breasts.
You’re not even aware of the words that are falling from your lips, oh fuck, yes, Jimin, there, oh, the way your grasp tightens in his dark hair, your hips bucking against his mouth as you can feel your orgasm approaching. The pleasure keeps building, flames fanning brighter and brighter as Jimin buries his mouth even further in between your legs, fingers speeding up as you gasp.
“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you chant, voice getting higher. “I’m gonna cum, I’m cumming, oh—”
Your words slide into a moan as your back arches and your thighs tighten around Jimin’s head and you cum. Jimin continues to finger fuck you through it, your cunt pulsating around him as he keeps licking and sucking at your clit, his gaze fixed on your face as your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth falls open and every line of your body sings of the pleasure that Jimin has given to you. Even when your legs and hips start to jolt from oversensitivity and you cry out at each ripple of his tongue against you, he’s relentless, almost cruel in how he watches you writhe from a mixture of pain and overextended pleasure.
You're sobbing by the time Jimin pulls his mouth away from your cunt, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes, body shaking as you try to suck in air. He thrusts his fingers into you one more time, slow and deep, watching the way you turn your head into the pillow and muffle a gasp against it. 
“I knew you'd look and sound gorgeous when you cum,” he says, and though you feel boneless from your post-orgasm high, you can’t help a little huff escaping your lips. Jimin clearly catches the sound, quiet as it is against the linen of his pillowcase, and takes your chin in his hand to turn his face towards you. His fingers are slick with your arousal, wet against your skin.
“You sound like you’re reading off the script to a porno,” you murmur.
One of his eyebrows arches. “Oh? You don’t think I’m just speaking my mind?” Those fingers move away from your chin and trace over the swell of your bottom lip; you let your mouth fall open and swallow them down, licking the taste of yourself off Jimin’s skin. “You don’t think that I’ve been thinking about how pretty you’d look as I fucked into you, begging for me to let you cum again and again?”
Your tongue stutters against his fingers and your core clenches at his words, the dark undercurrent underneath them, and Jimin’s expression shifts as he notices.
“You really have no idea, do you?” He runs his fingertips over your tastebuds, saliva starting to pool in your mouth, the slide so wet and messy. “Who do you think I picture whenever I touch myself? Who do you think I was wishing was in my bed every time I took someone else home?”
You nip at his fingers, running the edge of your teeth along his knuckles from equal parts surprise and disbelief at his words. You find it impossible to believe that he really means that, but then you realise—recently, on the few occasions you’d bumped into Jimin in the hall when he’d had one of his lays trailing behind him, for as different and unique each of them was, each one of them had shared some sort of trait with you. Hair colour, eyes, the set of their lips, the shape of their face; once, you’d heard a girl giggling through the wall before it had trailed off into a moan, and you’d done a literal double take at how much she’d sounded like you. Similar, but not exactly the same, a slightly off-tone echo of the sound that spills from your own lips whenever you laugh.
And the emptiness in his bed had only started after the night that he’d seen the way you’d trailed into your apartment with discontent heavy around your shoulders, disappointed at that awful Tinder date.
Oh, fuck.
“You’re shameless,” you say, words a little garbled around Jimin’s fingers, but you know he understands.
“No, I’m not,” he replies, a small smirk curling up the corner of his lips. It should be illegal: the way he has such soft features that can turn so quickly into something sharper and entirely sensual, eyes hooded, lips flushed, the column of his throat so lovely and graceful as he tilts his head to one side. “I just know what I want and don’t try to hide it. What’s shameless about that? I know you want me too, but you always deny yourself the things you want. Don’t you?”
You hate that you’ve been so transparent in your attraction to him. Because the truth of the matter is that for as much as Jimin frustrates you with his entire existence, you do want him. After all—you wouldn’t be naked underneath him, still trembling from the aftershocks of a deep orgasm, if you didn’t.
“You’re not always as quiet as you think, you know,” he adds, pulling his fingers out of your mouth and enjoying the way your eyes widen at his words. You thought he couldn’t hear you through the wall, but it seems like you were wrong.
Before you can say anything in reply, though, he grinds down. Without your clothes in the way you can feel the drag of his yoga pants against your cunt, how the wetness of your cum and Jimin’s spit soaks into the fabric, his hard cock hot, and you let out a whine. He still has yet to remove any of his clothes and you want to  see them off so he’s finally naked. You’ve seen enough of his bare skin over the months to have a pretty good idea of what that looks like, but you want to see the real thing.
Jimin seems just as eager to shed his clothes, yielding to your grasping hands and carelessly throwing his top aside; you end up straddling his waist and kissing down his chest in an imitation of his motions earlier, letting your fingers trail over the lean muscle from his yoga and dance. When you tongue at one of his nipples and he gasps, you feel euphoric. He’s unfairly beautiful, from the lovely collarbones to the flex of his shoulders and arms and the line of his chest and stomach, delicate and somehow entirely masculine. You still sort of want to slap him, but settle with kissing the hollow of his neck instead, digging your fingers into his ribs as you roll your hips down against him.
His own hips buck up. You can tell that he’s desperate to be inside you, but you want to taste him first. 
When you slide down his body and settle between his legs, you hook your fingers into the tight waistband of those stupid leggings and tug them down. Jimin hisses through his teeth as you let the material settle just under his hips, baring the top of his briefs to you, how his cock strains against them, the patch of wetness at the head, darkening the fabric.
You don’t strip him. Not completely. You just hook your fingers into those dark blue briefs and pull them down just enough to reveal the flushed head of his cock, wet with precum. You let your tongue flick out to catch that salty bitterness, and Jimin bites off a curse at the almost shy licks you start to lave across his slit, circling around the weeping head.
Hearing Jimin’s gasps without the wall in the way is honestly an experience. Before, whenever he had people over, they usually drowned him out, theatrical wails and groans overpowering his far more natural noises, but now there’s nothing to prevent you from hearing the way his breath hitches in his throat or the way he moans. Even the smallest things have him letting slip sounds, a noise escaping him as you coax him to lift his hips so you can finally, finally peel those leggings and briefs off, dragging over the hardness of his cock as you do. You want to take in the sight of him fully naked, give it the proper attention it deserves, but then you feel his cock throb in your hand and you can’t stop yourself from immediately lowering your mouth to it again.
His whole body shudders. You let your jaw fall open as you take him in, tongue curling around him, hands touching every part of him that isn’t in your mouth, making sure there’s no part of  him that isn’t receiving attention. His eyes are wide under the mess of his fringe, hair falling over his forehead as he watches the way you run your lips down the side of his cock before sucking one of his balls into your mouth, circling his length with your hands, a twisting rise and fall in the motion as you drink down the noise of surprised pleasure that drops from his lips.
Jimin’s fingers have been tangled in your hair but he lets you control the flow. The sounds of you swallowing him down into your mouth as you bob your head are obscene, wet and messy, but you can still hear how his voice starts to rise, how his fingers tighten against your scalp, and you know he’s close when he tugs you upwards and drags your lips away from his cock. 
Jimin pulls you towards him and you settle against his chest as you start to kiss again, shivering at the way he rolls his tongue in your mouth. This time when Jimin rolls his hips, there’s nothing between your skin and his, dragging the underside of his cock across your flushed lower lips, the slide between your folds and against your clit making you shiver.
“Condoms?” 
You’re breathless, and Jimin quirks a smile at you.
“Top drawer,” he answers. Of course they would be, in easy reach whenever he needs them. 
You lean forwards to reach for the bedside table and Jimin takes the opportunity to circle a hand around your breast and capture a nipple in his mouth, ignoring the way you bite back a surprised noise, staring up at you with almost innocent eyes as he sucks at your skin in the way he’s worked out that you like best. Your hands are a fumble as you pull a condom out of the pack, ripping the sachet away from the others, a bottle of lube rolling into your grasp. You try to focus on your task and not the sensation of Jimin switching attention to your other breast, cupping the swell of flesh in his hand and drawing his teeth gently across your skin.
“You’re insatiable,” you mutter, and Jimin laughs before he kisses between your breasts. 
“I’ve been wanting to fuck you since we first met,” he says, utterly unrepentant. “I don't want to take my mouth off you.”
“Insatiable,” you repeat, but you’re flustered. Even if you know he’s not lying, and you’re naked and straddling his hips, the taste of his lips and cock now familiar on your tongue, it’s… kind of incredible to think that the gorgeous Park Jimin has been lusting after you for that long. 
Or lusting after you at all, really.
But as you tear the foil of the condom, the look he levels at you is burning with desire, roaming over you, every inch of your nakedness, every movement of your body. His hands rest at your waist, thumbs rubbing over your skin as you hold his cock in one hand and roll the condom down with the other, letting your fingers circle his length, dragging your touch over the heat of him and revelling in the way he twitches. As much as you’ve thought of Jimin as a fuckboy, you know that he wouldn’t lie just to get someone in his bed, so as unbelievable as his words are, every single one of his actions backs up what he’s said: he wants you.
You don't notice how soft his gaze is as you take time to warm the lube in your hands, even though you’re desperate to feel him finally slide home. You've always been so considerate, even when he knows you've been frustrated at him, and that's evident now, in this small thing.
You spread the warmed lube over his covered cock, pumping it in your hand to get him slick and ready, loving the way he hisses though his teeth. He has to stop his hips from bucking up as you line his cockhead up with your entrance, his fingers digging into your sides as you hover in place.
“Come on,” Jimin urges. “Give it to me.”
“Insatiable,” you repeat, one last time, then you bend your knees.
You finally ease yourself down and onto his cock. You both let out moans; Jimin, finally feeling the wet heat of you around him, and you, falling into the sensation of him stretching you open, snug inside you, slowly splitting you open as you take him in, inch by inch, until you’re sitting on his hips and he’s fully buried in your cunt.
It’s been a while since you’ve had someone inside you. You grind downwards, rolling your hips, biting your lip at the sensation. Jimin’s chest expands as he sucks in a sharp breath, and you roll your hips again, a hand bracing on one of his lovely, thick thighs, the other resting just under his stomach as you lean back and arch your spine. You lift your hips, easy and slow, and then fall, Jimin’s cock dragging and pressing against your inner walls, a gasp shuddering out of your lips at the electric feeling.
Again and again, noises of pleasure drip from your mouth as you ride him, head tilting back at the sensations rippling through your body and across your skin, the apartment full of the sounds of your sex—the moans, the wet thrust of Jimin’s cock into your cunt, the praise that falls from his lips, months of feeling pouring from his lips. How pretty you are, how gorgeous, how well you’re taking his cock, how wet and tight you are around him; all the things he’s been thinking about, come to life, his hips snapping into yours as a sharp cry cuts through your lips at the sudden change of pace.
The pleasure’s been steadily building between your legs again, warm and unrushed, but then Jimin flips you without warning, fluid and graceful. Your eyes are wide as you end up on your back, Jimin’s hands braced either side of your head as he looks down at you with those dark, dark eyes of his. He thrusts forwards and your hands fly up to grab at him, your entire body shifting up the mattress at the force of his movements. His eyebrows are drawn together as he starts to drive himself into you, unapologetic in how aggressive he’s being, each thrust pushing the air out of your lungs in harried little gasps that shake the air between you.
The sound of his headboard slamming into the wall, a noise that’s been haunting you each time you’ve been trying to sleep or relax, is one you don’t even register. All you can think about is Jimin, Jimin, Jimin, caught up in the way there’s sweat beading across his forehead, strands of his dark hair sticking to it, the intense look in his eyes, the way his full lips are parted, small ah-ah-ahs falling from his lips in time with his thrusts, your body tightening around him each time he slides home.
You can’t remember the last time you were fucked this good. Jimin reads the language of your body with ease, knowing exactly when to lean back and trail a hand over your hips, circling his thumb over your swollen clit, the slide over that bundle of nerves messy from the mix of cum and lube and spit that’s laid slick across you. Each fluid roll of his hips is perfectly timed with the press of his thumb, your thighs going tense and your pussy clenching around Jimin’s hot cock as you start to reach another peak of pleasure.
“Cum for me, baby.” Jimin sounds breathless. “Let me see how pretty you are when you cum around my cock.”
Normally dirty talk seems so ham-handed and stuttering, but the words fall out of Jimin’s lips  as natural as breathing, thoughtless. Stirring your arousal even further. He’s gripping your hips, pulling you down each time he presses up, and you circle your fingers around his wrist as his other hand is occupied with rubbing at your most sensitive part, tightening your hold as you feel another orgasm approaching.
“Jimin.” Your voice is a keen. “I'm so close, please, there, right there, theretherethere—”
You can't blame Jimin's other partners for being so noisy. The sound you let out is just as loud, maybe even louder, Jimin continuing to snap his hip forwards as you cum hard, a drawn out moan that crescendos as you pulsate around Jimin's cock, still hard inside you. He watches the way you writhe beneath him, tangling his fingers with yours when you reach for him and swallowing the end of your moan in a surprisingly sweet kiss, his lips gentle against yours as he slows to a stop before you become too sensitive.
Your voice is a quiet murmur against his lips. “How have you not cum yet?”
His eyes squeeze into a smile as he laughs, light and bright, the sound so sweet. “I've got stamina for days, darling,” he says, oozing that trademark arrogance you’ve gotten used to.
You clench as hard as you can around him and feel smug when he bites off a shocked curse, his smug facade broken. You can’t help but laugh at his expression, scandalised at it is, though your giggle cuts into a gasp when he pinches one of your nipples and then soothes it with his thumb. He seems amused by the look on your face and then laughs in turn, the two of you dissolving into laughter that’s edged with pleasure, your motions shifting his length inside you.
When the laughter trails off, Jimin stays smiling down at you. You draw your hands over his body, tracing all that smooth skin, and he touches the back of your hands with gentle fingers. There's a beat of silence but it's not an uncomfortable one, the air light after your shared giggles. It's… really nice. It's nice and soft and sweet, just like the expression on Jimin's face, tender, even if he's still buried inside you.
You feel so empty when he slips out, already missing the thickness of his cock when it seems as though he’s about to coax you to roll onto your front. Your hands are still linked with his and you tighten your fingers, making him pause.
“I want to see your face,” you confess quietly. It’s probably too much to ask of him but you feel like if you’re turned away from each other then you’ll feel like nothing more than a fucktoy. Just another warm body in Jimin’s bed. You don’t want that.
Jimin stares at you, surprise written across his features before his expression softens. 
"Okay, baby," he murmurs indulgently. The small pet name sounds so sweet in his mouth. "We can stay like this."
He lets your hands go so that he can reach for a pillow that ends settled under your ass, tilting your hips up towards him. You’re not as flexible as he is—maybe you should start doing yoga too—but Jimin doesn’t push you far, hitching your legs up and draping your calves over his shoulders, leaning towards you so that the back of your thighs are warm against his chest. He's bent forward, face hovering above yours, so much skin-on-skin contact that your entire body feels warmed by him.
When he slides back in, you can feel the change in angle immediately. The head of his cock brushes over your g-spot and you suck in a sharp breath; Jimin notices, of course, aiming to hit it again, and again.
It feels good, of course. Amazing. But as much as you’d be happy for Jimin to make you cum again, you’d rather see him fall apart. 
You dig your nails into his shoulder blades, turning your head so you can press kisses along the line of his jaw, murmuring into his ear.
“Are you going to let me see you cum?” 
Jimin’s hips stutter as your words curl out of your mouth, warm against his skin. You’ve been picturing Park Jimin’s o-face for an endless amount of weeks and you’re ready to finally see the real thing.
“Cum on me,” you say, and then choke in a sob of air as Jimin responds with a sharp snap of his hips. “I want you to cum on me, Jimin, please.”
Your begging is shameless and you know it. Jimin’s face is so close to yours in this position and you can see how blown his pupils are, how his mouth is flushed from your kisses and how he’s been biting at them, his teeth digging into his lip as he starts to get faster, sloppier in his thrusts. It feels so good to know that you’re making him feel like this, that he’s reaching the peak of his pleasure with his body against yours, inside you, above you; he might have had other people in this position in the past, but right now it’s you who’s making Park Jimin come apart. 
You urge him onwards with large, pleading eyes, rocking down on his cock each time he thrusts forward, begging the whole time. Pleading for him to cum, to give it to you, to cover you. Jimin obviously likes you loud and desperate, and you're more than willing to give him what he wants.
He slips out of you, fumbling with the condom and carelessly tossing it aside before he starts to pump his cock, hungry to reach his peak as he fucks into his fist. You let your legs fall open as you watch the way his body tenses, his brows drawn together and little breaths falling out of his mouth, barely audible over the wet slide of his cock in his hand. You run your hands over your body, across the swell of your breasts, down your stomach, dipping between your legs, trying to look as arousing as possible, anything to throw Jimin over the edge.
"I've imagined you cumming for months," you confess, words thoughtlessly falling from your lips. "On me, inside me, in my mouth—"
Park Jimin’s o-face is just as gorgeous as the rest of him.
You love how noisy he is. He paints your stomach with his cum, ropes of white spattering across the soft skin of your stomach and hips as he rides out his orgasm, moaning as he continues to milk his twitching cock. It’s so fucking hot, honestly, as is the expression on his face when you swipe your fingers through his cum and lift it to your lips, mouth filled with salt and warm.
“Fuck.” He’s breathless, panting. “You’re unbelievable.”
You let out a small scoff, but it’s edged with affection. “Says the man who was ready to fuck me six ways to Sunday,” you say. “If anyone’s the unbelievable one here, it’s you.”
“I can last longer, but you’re just so hot,” Jimin says. You respond by curling your fingers at him, beckoning him towards you, and you end up sharing a series of messy kisses. 
You were, honestly, genuinely angry when you'd stepped into his apartment earlier, even if that irritation had been rounded out with arousal and desire. Now, though, you feel thoroughly boneless and content, loose limbed on Jimin's mattress, his lips and tongue moving against your own.
He leans too far forwards and smears his own cooling cum against his stomach. He doesn’t seem bothered, though. You’re the one who has to coax him to clean up, though with the way he looks at your still naked body, you know he would happily launch straight into a second round of fucking so he can add more cum to the canvas of your skin.
He really is insatiable, apparently, when it comes to you.
Even so, you wonder if Jimin’s going to kick you out now that he’s finally had a taste of you. He doesn't. He keeps you close, your body pressed against his side in a way that feels far more intimate than you would have expected.
“Are you hungry?” Jimin breaks the soft silence.
You’ve been trailing nonsensical patterns over his chest but pause when he says this. “Hm?”
“Are you hungry?” Jimin repeats, and there’s a cheeky smile flickering at the edge of his lips. “I have some more peaches in the fridge, if you’d like one.”
“That peach.” Your voice is an embarrassed hiss and your cheeks burn, but Jimin just laughs, boyish and bright as you slap halfheartedly at him. “That was just unfair. Who eats fruit like that?”
“Someone who’s trying to make it obvious that he’s imagining the peach is his neighbour’s pussy instead.” He’s so brazen. “And it clearly worked, didn’t it?”
It had worked. It's annoyingly effective, actually; thinking about the way Jimin had been staring at you as he tongue fucked that peach has arousal shooting through you, even after being so thoroughly fucked by him.
“Yeah, now you’ve had me,” you say. “What do you plan to do next?”
Jimin goes quiet. You wonder if you’ve misstepped, but then he sweeps his hand down the curve of your spine, goosebumps appearing in the wake of his touch.
“I was planning on asking if you wanted to go out for lunch,” he says, his voice so sweet, miles away from the fuckboy persona he usually puts on. This is the softer Park Jimin that you’ve caught glimpses of when he’s unaware, the side of him you wished he’d show more often—revealed to you, now. “Then, if you said yes, I was going to take you out on a date. If that date went well, then I was going to ask if you’d like to go on another one with me. And then another.”
One thing you know about Park Jimin is this: he doesn’t do dates. Each of his lays are one time affairs, no attachments made, no real connection beyond the physical act of sex. Your heart rate picks up.
“Obviously we’d fuck between dates,” he adds, raising his eyebrows at you in a way that’s so exaggerated that it makes you laugh. Of course. Jimin likes to fuck. “Unless you didn’t want to, but there are only so many peaches I can eat, you know?”
“So if I said I didn't want to fuck, and you ran out of peaches, what would you do?” 
Your question seems casual and light but Jimin isn't stupid. He knows what you're really asking. Is he genuinely interested in something more exclusive, or would you just become another notch in his bedpost if he grew tired of waiting for you to spread your legs again?
"I can always buy more peaches."
You stare at him. He's looking at you levelly, a small smile on his face that's a little cocky but mostly warm. And, well, you know he's already gone without other partners for you, even before he'd gotten you in his bed. Park Jimin is serious about you, it seems. He'll wait.
You mouth at his collarbones, tasting the salt of sweat as you kiss and lick at his skin.
"After lunch, we can go back to my apartment, if you want," you whisper against his throat.
Just because Jimin's willing to wait doesn't mean you're going to force him to, especially as you're still as hungry for him as he is for you. 
His hands squeeze your sides as you end up kissing again. You feel soft and ripe and sweet, easing under the touch of Jimin's hands and mouth.
"I still think you're a fucking menace, though," you add, and Jimin laughs so hard the bed shakes, still utterly unrepentant and entirely yours.
--
taglist: @beyoncesdragon​ 
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sombreboy · 4 years
Text
Split↬snakehybrid!pjm
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⤍18+ ⤍pairing: snakehybrid!pjm x female reader ⤍genre: pwp smut, hybrid, fluff ⤍word count: 3.9k ⤍warnings: profanity, jimin has a cute hiss/lisp, neither is sub or dom in this but jimin is pretty whiny and soft but so is y/n haha ig they’re just whiny for eachother, blowjob, pussy eating with that dextrous split tongue, light breathplay, Jimin has two BIG cocks im not even sorry for this one, double penetration (yes it anatomically works in this world we’re all monsterfuckers here), double creampie? is it even called creampie in the ass too...Just, a lot of cum, biting, mentions of blood, fluffy ending. A/N: Enjoy this surprise. I know many of you wanted this. I worked really hard on it, so please praise me with your love. As always, thank you for reading my filth. xoxo
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“Jimin? What are you doing--”
You were unable to finish your sentence before his pillowy lips found purchase on yours, hungrily devouring your mouth with a newfound aggression that contrasted his normally sweet, gentle behavior. A whimper escaped your throat that the snake hybrid gladly swallowed, a rumbling groan erupting in the core of his chest in response to his favorite sound.
He pulled back momentarily, his hot breath fanning your face as it lingered close. Those intense eyes were staring straight through you like scorching razorblades, pupils shrunk into thin slits of focus. He only had eyes for you, you, you in this very moment-- and there was only one thing he desired. And you knew exactly what it was, and just the thought of what he seemed to have in mind had your body immediately reacting accordingly, heating up several degrees until your skin felt flushed hot.
Jimin was sensitive to changes in temperature, and loved how he was able to trigger your flesh to heat up for him like his own personal source of warmth. But nothing compared to the comforting, maddening heat beneath your skin.
“Baby… You know exactly what I’m doing.” He murmurs against the skin of your jawline, smoothing the button of his nose down your neck until he inhales deeply to take in your scent. You smelled so divine, mixed with his own since he’d claimed you as his mate for the first time. “Wanna play with you.”
“Yes.” You didn’t hesitate, your body was already more than ready, responding to his every graceful movement against your body. His hands gently smoothed down your curves, snaking beneath your shirt to caress your stomach while he took advantage of the towering force of his body to guide your steps backwards towards the bed. You complied, naturally submissive to his ministrations as you allowed him to place you on the bed, sitting on the edge with your palms flat on the soft duvet. He stood in front of you, between your spread legs while gazing down at you. He tugs your shirt up and off your torso, tossing it to the floor without even blinking to avoid missing a single second of seeing you.
“You’re so pretty.” You look up at him with admirations swirling in your eyes. Without thinking, your hands settle on his clothed thighs, running them up his firm muscles until you reach the waistline of his pants, curling your fingers around it to gently tug downwards-- signaling that you want to free the hardening bulge from the cage of fabric. “Wanna play with you too.”
Jimin’s forked tongue slipped out his slightly parted lips, swiping them across the delicate, pillowy skin until a layer of his spit served as a natural gloss, only adding to his unfair beauty. His pupils dilated significantly the second you gasp when you visibly see his cocks twitch through the clothing-- always amazed by his hybrid-like assets.
“Yeah, okay... A little-- You know I get impatient…” Jimin wasn’t blessed with patience, often greedy to get straight to the point of what he desired. But the look in your eyes made him want to give you the world. He couldn’t do that, though, but what he could do was to give you himself.
“I know, Jimin. You can’t help it.” He really couldn’t. When he gets excited, he loses control, the predatory part of his hybrid self taking over almost completely. However, that was exactly what you wanted..
You slowly pulled his pants down together with his underwear, flinching when his cocks sprung free in front of your face. You’re practically foaming at the mouth already, seeing how the swollen tips are glistening with beads of precum, waiting for you to indulge in his sinful flesh. So you did, grasping both in your hands, slowly stroking them from the get go with little to no patience yourself.
He was already hard in your hands, the velvety skin radiating heat. Jimin whined quietly in annoyance, rutting his hips forward to press his girths closer to your mouth-- you got the hint. You parted your lips, taking one of his cocks into your mouth, tongue swirling around the head before diving forward to take it all. You’ve done it countless times before, but every single time the tip of his turgid length prodded the back of your throat, he moans out loud. It’s one of his favorite things, how you’re able to take him so deep until there’s no more space for him to keep pushing.
“Fuck, that feels good, baby... “ Jimin’s tongue lisps lightly around the ‘S’, hissing out his cursed praises. His free hand grasps his untouched cock beneath the one currently buried down your throat, stroking himself simultaneously to the rhythm you quickly found as you sucked him off. His other hand strokes your hair, his delicate, ring-clad fingers brushing your curls behind your ears to see your face better. His hips begin to rut forward to meet your mouths as it comes down on him, watching your lips stretch around his girth with every drag back and forth, back and forth, the skin of his length wetter with each repeated action.
The praise has your cheeks rosy, beaming with pride at how easily he was falling apart just because of your mouth. However, his faux submission didn’t last long until he decided it was your turn to crumble beneath him. He gently grasped your hair into his fist, pulling you back until his length is stripped from the warmth of your wet mouth, a thick string of saliva dripping down your chin.
You look up at him once more, this time feeling your cunt throb when you make eye contact with the predatory stare that came from above, tunnel visioned on you, and you only. He never lied to you when he said his patience was practically nonexistent.
“That’s enough, baby. Take your clothess off…” he lisps endearingly, biting down on his lower lip when you don’t waste time to obey his commands. Your shirt was already off with his assistance, and you threw the bra to join the fabrics on the floor. Laying down on your back, you wiggle your hips while pulling down your pants, eyes never wavering from his. Your snake-like movements mesmerized even him. The prey taunted the predator.
“Moving like that, you drive me crazy… sshit..” Jimin groans, his hand stroking both cocks to the view below him of you stripping down to just your panties. You lift your legs up, taking off the pants completely to toss them away into any direction-- it didn’t matter anyway. All that mattered was how riled up Jimin was while watching you, his wet cocks gliding against one another as he kept them in his firm grasp, slick sounds striking the room. His hissing got louder between grunts, and eventually he whines when he stops touching himself, instead coaxing you to move up towards the headboard of the bed to give him space to crawl between your spread legs, still hidden by the thin, soaked panties that you intentionally left on, knowing he loved to see the cotton stick to your cunt like a second layer of skin.
“J-Jimin…” You whine when he leans in between your legs, his hot breath fanning your clothed pussy as his darkened gaze flickers up to meet yours. His lips tug into a teasing smirk, showcasing his pointed fangs that you were so fond of-- for various reasons. His split tongue snakes out from his parted lips, giving your wet panties a long, slow drag from the bottom up to your clit. His moan vibrates in his chest at how he could taste and smell you through his taste buds, the sweet and tangy essence he couldn’t wait to soak his tongue in.
“Lovely.” Jimin praised yet again, smoothing the pads of his finger down your slit, feeling the heated skin beneath the panties. He slowly stroked his fingers up and down a few times before tugging at the thin fabrics, catching it between his fangs to rip it off with one smooth motion of his razor sharp teeth. You exhale audibly at the sight, hands curling up against the sheets to grab a fistful in anticipation-- you know exactly what you’re in for, and just knowing had your body shuddering from the thrill. Only one man could make you feel this riled up with so little, he hadn’t even begun to properly play with you.. yet. 
“P-please, it’s torture…” You whine, knowing all too well which ones of his buttons to push. Begging, whining-- he’d be a puddle that obliged to your wishes within a heartbeat, playing it off as his own greed. He’s domineering, and thrives through the power he possesses over you, sure-- but that didn’t mean he was immune to your pleading, sweet voice. It drove him mad, and if patience could go minus on a scale, his was dropping with every shaky breath that escaped your lips.
“Now who’s impatient..” Jimin teased, giving in to your pleas nonetheless. He understood the feeling better than anybody, and he saw no reason in dragging out the torture any longer than necessary, for the sake of you both. He gets comfortable between your legs, properly situated to finally allow his pillowy lips to kiss your clit softly, drawing another breathy whimper from your pretty throat, watching your chest shudder. He lets his split tongue slip past his parted lips, licking up the wet arousal that had seeped from your cunt, his hot breath hitting your skin as he exhales in rapture. He loved eating you out, and it was of no surprise that you loved it just as much-- his tongue was skilled, and perfectly shaped to give it a unique feeling compared to what a normal, human tongue could do.
Jimin said nothing from then on, but simply allowed his ministrations to speak for him. His dexterous tongue lapped at your dripping entrance, slowly, but not too slow to make it unbearable. He licked upwards stripes, his own drool mixing with the continuous essence that leaked out with every sweet constriction he coaxed from you when his moans vibrated against your pussy.
“You taste sso good, baby.” He sighs blissfully, inching even closer. The wet sounds his mouth made was sinful, alternating between licking and sucking lightly with his plushy, glossy lips. You were squirming above him, arching your back as your hands searched for his golden locks, tangling your fingers into his roots before tugging, pushing him closer to your core for more friction.
“H-harder-- make me cum, Jimin, ah…” You whimper, gritting your teeth in frustration-- you wanted more, more, more, greedy for him to please you further. He whines when you tug at his hair, but allowed you either way to control him. His lips found your clit, sucking at it tastefully, swirling his forked tongue around it to properly give you the attention you craved. His hands were tightly grabbing at your thighs, keeping your moving body in place as he picked up the pace when you kept tugging at his roots, spurring the aggression in him. The pain you caused him made him go harder-- so you closed your fist, pulling harder, and as you anticipated, his mouth treated you rougher.
“G-god, yes-- just like that, so good, I’ll c-cum.. Fuc-k!” Your throaty moans were like music to his ears, but he could only hear the muffled version of it as your fleshy thighs were pinning him in place, pushing against his ears. He could practically hear your heartbeat in your thighs, the warmth comforting and maddening to his senses, your throbbing, swollen clit impossibly hard in his mouth as he kept abusing it with his tongue. He rutted against the bed, his cocks leaking profusely with precum from how desperate you were to cum-- and it made him feel the desperation right on his tongue, both tasting and smelling your impending orgasm.
Your harsh grasp in his blonde curls didn’t cease, but increased the second his wet, skilled tongue flicked over your clit harder, coaxing your orgasm more and more until finally, it hits you like a tidal wave, drowning you in blinding rapture. Your back arched, your insides pulsating in a rhythmical pattern, every throb causing your body to twitch, and your silent cries only came out as gasps. Jimin pulled through, unable to breathe for a mere few seconds, still keeping his split tongue wrapped around your clit, feeling the way it pulsated against his lips. His muffled moan was more than enough for you to know he loved this just as much, but the moment he tapped your thigh you quickly let go of him so he could pull back and gasp for air.
“Ah, I’m s-sorry…” You half laugh, half whine, your dewy skin glistening with sweat, chest moving up and down with every shaky, heavy breath. You look down at his black stare, admiring you as if you were his entire universe. And to him, you are, no doubt.
“Don’t be. I loved it-- sso pretty... Sso hot…” Jimin huffed, giving your soaked entrance one last lick, gathering your essence on his tongue before slipping his tongue back into his mouth, savoring the taste. “Mmm...  You’re sso delicious, baby.”
“Gah.. D-don’t say that, it’s embarrassing.” You hid your face in your palms, face flushed with embarrassment and the lingering arousal in your body. You felt him get up from his position, crawling on top of your body to kiss your hands that covered your face. Slowly, you removed them to peek at him, only to see his pearly, sharp smile, eyes squinted into the most beautiful crescent moons.
“You’re too cute. How can you act so innocent after using my mouth like that?” Jimin cooed, leaning back in to kiss your lips. It tasted like you, but you didn’t mind-- because it was living proof that he’d just indulged in his favorite treat.
Well, one of his favorite treats.
Jimin sat back up on his knees, his cocks standing tall and needy for any attention whatsoever at this point. He’d been so patient after all, putting effort into making you feel so good. Now that you’re soaked, both his mouth and swollen heads of his lengths were dripping with desperation to finally fuck you.
“Baby?” Jimin’s soothing voice was like a siren’s song, impossible to ignore-- absolutely impossible to say no to.
“Yes?”
“Ride me, please?” His eyelashes fluttered, flirting his way through your heart to get what he desired. And it worked--- obviously. He wouldn’t even have to ask this nicely. He treated you well, so you wanted to give it right back.
You nod, moving to the side to let him take your previous place, laying on his back. He propped himself up a little with a few pillows, reaching for your body with a pout when he felt cold without the warmth that is you.
“You’re still the more impatient one.” You giggle as you straddle him, lifting your hips up above his cock. He watched with wide eyes, nodding in agreement to whatever you said at this point-- all he could think about was to fill you up.
“Yeah, yeah.” He murmured, guiding your hips down slowly to sink down on one of his cocks, the other left untouched, sandwiched between the fleshy cheeks of your ass. His cocks were wet, easily providing a pleasant glide against your skin.
“I really want to be able to fill you with both this time…” Jimin confessed while he swallowed tightly, fangs clamping down on his lower lip as he pushed you down further to take his entire length in your warm insides. His cocks throbbed, one in you and one against your ass, a heavy exhale slipped past his lips in bliss. “So fuckin’ goood to me, shit… Rock your hipss, baby, use me.”
“God, you’re so pretty Jimin…” You praised him right back, feeling his cock pulsate with every sweet word coming from you. He loved it when you called him pretty in various ways. Rocking your hips back and forth, his cock grinds deeply inside of you, causing yourself to moan from using him to please yourself. “And s-so big, fuck..”
“I know.” Jimin crooked a playful eyebrow at you, but just as quickly his shit eating grin was wiped off when you spit in your palm, hand snaked behind your back to stroke the cock that wasn’t already wrapped in your heat. “Ahh, yes.. Touch it-- touch it more…” He whined, his hands grabbing your thighs to coax you to rock your hips harder. You did so, all while teasing the wet head of his free length.
“Want to fill both my holes with your pretty cocks, Jimin?” You said sweetly, already knowing the answer. His hips bucked upwards in response, his hissed curses spurring your growing confidence. You slowed your movements, guiding the drenched tip to prod at your ass. Slowly, you teased your tight rim until you could comfortably slip it inside, carefully allowing him to fill you up to the brim with both of his blessed, turgid lengths. You gasped again, overwhelmed by how full you felt, so complete.. “O-oh my god....”
“Yes, yeah, fuck yess..” Jimin screwed his eyes shut for a moment, stilling his movements for your sake, wanting you to decide when it’s time to move. He knew it’d be a lot, and he’s so proud of you for taking both his cocks at once-- such a fucking good girl for him. “Tight, isn’t it? Take it easy..”
“Yeah, you’re big, Jimin…Unf..” You place your palms flat down on his toned abdomen, breathing steadily to relax your muscles. The two of you truly felt each other then, his flesh filling you up in such a completing way that he’d never done before. Your warm insides hugging him snugly, comforting him in every sense of the word-- he felt at ease, like this is where he belonged all along. 
You began to move when you felt ready, grinding your hips against him, feeling the twitching of his needy cocks inside of you with every movement-- not a single moment went unnoticed by him, every breath and whine that slipped past your lips was pure bliss. You picked up the pace a bit, rocking faster on him, growing greedier with every low curse, hiss and moan that pushed past his bit swollen lips, his blunt nails digging into your thighs.
“D-don’t go too fast, I’ll cum…” He whined, licking his sharp fangs as he stared at the way your body jiggled on top of him. His hips rutted upwards, changing the rocking motion into an up and down bounce, causing you to moan out in pleasure when his cocks abused the thin wall of flesh separating his lengths, grinding against one another.
“M-maybe I want you to..” You breathe out, your voice nowhere as coy as you had imagined it to be-- it was impossible to tease when he brushed against every inch of your sensitive insides, the sweet stretch driving you mad. But on the other hand, you could tell he’s the one who was falling apart underneath you, the common tick of his where he continuously swiped his tongue over his sharp fangs, a known quirk of his when he’s desperately trying to control his impending orgasm by feeling the sting of his teeth. “Want you to fill me up so well. Help me, fuck me harder. I c-can’t by myself.”
“Mhm.” Jimin’s nails had dragged down your thighs countless times at this point, coaxing red welts to form in his rake. He smoothed his palms up your body, digging his digits into your hips to get a proper hold of you, aiding in your bouncing motion, allowing you to plunge down on his cocks harder to meet his bucking hips, forcing the slapping sound of skin to skin to grow more prominent in the room. “Oh, baby, I swear… I’ll cum, ah…”
Those few, sweet words spoken in his lustful, canary voice was all you needed to feel a rush of energy pump through your veins, adamant to make him cum just as good as he made you. Your fingers curled on the skin of his stomach, light scratches forming on his milky tone as you bounced on his cocks harder, faster, deeper-- the shameless wet smacking sounds driving you both towards lustful madness. His split tongue continuously swiped over his teeth, lips, biting down hard on his pillowy, delicate skin. His teeth itched to bite down on something, the scorching heat pooling in his abdomen creeping up on him faster than ever before.
“B-baby-- Wanna bite.” Jimin pleaded, but it wasn’t a command. The biting wasn’t your favorite, he knew this, but he felt desperate. It was his way of marking you, claiming you-- to show you he loved you and you only during a time like this. “I promise I’ll be g-gentle, please.. I’m cumming, fuc-k!”
You didn’t hesitate, wordlessly leaning forward to offer him your neck, all while his tight grasp moved to your ass, forcing you down over and over on his lengths. His lips immediately kiss down your neck, searching for his favorite spot in the slope where your neck meets your shoulder. His lips curl up as his fangs came into view, not wasting a second of this given opportunity to let them sink into your soft skin. Your body tensed up, holes constricting around his lengths, just the way he anticipated--and had hoped for. He kept fucking up into you, hissing as his razor-like fangs chomp down your neck, savoring the throaty cries that pushed past your lips.
“O-oh, ow, shit-- fuck! Jimin, ahh… F-feels good.” You reassured him, knowing that although his primal instincts took over the second his fangs bit into you, one of his hands soothingly ran up and down your waist as the other remained tight, fucking you down on him. However, it only took a few more punishing thrusts before he pushed you down once more, but this time keeping you still, emptying himself into both of your holes. His body tensed up, hips stuttering as he hissed out, lips curled up as he bit down harder. This is where he’s the most lost in his hybrid part of himself, mating you like it’s the first time, although it’s far from it.
“D-doing so well, Jimin…” You praised as you felt his body relax slowly, cocks pulsating as hot cum gushed out into the tight space, already seeping out from the lack of anywhere else to go. His hands is the first indication that he’d come back down to reality, smoothing down your back and pulling you close to his body. Lastly, he unhinged his jaw and let go, licking his bloody fangs clean before holding you close, still lodged deep inside of you with no intention of removing you from this position just yet.
“Thank you, baby.” Jimin stroked your back, nuzzling his nose into your hair to coax you to look up at him. When you did, he smiled. The familiar, pearly smile that caused his eyes to form into this lovely squint that had your heart fluttering. “I love you.”
This man was really made out of sugar, spice and everything nice.
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© sombreboy 2020. Do not repost, edit or translate.
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spideyspeaches · 3 years
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Gold Rush ↬ t.h
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Gif by @parkeraul :)
A/N: I'm in love with that song 🙈 also here's my super late contribution of professor!tom 😋 cause I've been procrastinating on the wandavision au (in my defence though, it's taking a lot of brainstorming 😂) anyway here you go-
Wc: 2.6k+
Warnings: lemme know if you find one :)
Summary: He taught British History and you chastise yourself for not auditing for that subject earlier.
Pairing: Professor!Tom x Student!Reader
Masterlist || Taglist
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Waking up with a start, you groan at the shrill sound of your alarm. With a sigh that was more of a grunt of annoyance, you tried to reach for your phone at the side table, hissing when you felt the corner of your elbow hit the table, pain shooting up to your shoulder. 
Great, you weren't even up yet and your day was already going shitty. You just hoped that your professor won't be grumpy about you being late for the millionth time this semester. 
You hated cultural architecture. You had nothing against the course, but You hated your professor with a passion and wished that you could burn your textbooks for all you cared, right in front of your teacher's eyes, watch him writhe in fear as you banished the very existence of your material. 
You were being dramatic, but in your defence, your professor was an old bastard who never left an opportunity to reprimand you, going as far as letting you know how uneven your margins were on your latest project. 
He wore birkenstocks with a three piece. You wouldn't trust him with your assignments. 
Getting out of your dorm room was work, hard work. But you got out, brushed your teeth and wore what you hoped were presentable clothing. 
"You look hungover." Your roommate, Stacy, commented, spitting in the sink as you scowled at her. 
She was straightforward, outspoken and somehow managed to look like one of those Victoria secrets models that you loathed, even at seven in the morning. You hated her. 
(You didn't.)
"Thanks, I hope I smell too. Want that son of a bitch- what's his name, Wilson, to suffer for giving me that C minus on my thesis." You grumbled, rubbing your hands through your hair to flat them out. 
"You really hate him, don't you." She snickered, popping off her shirt. You tried not to look, not wanting to come off as a pervert, but damn, she was fit. You contemplated her words, frowning at your own reflection. 
You looked disheveled, the dark eye bags under your eyes very apparent as you tried to mask them with foundation, setting your hair for the millionth time. Oh well, you were presentable enough. Sweatpants would have to do for your only class today, you could binge Netflix after this wretched class. 
"I do. I hope his third wife divorces him and he loses his thermos of coffee in the subway." You said, adding your look finally before wearing your shoes. 
"That's cruel, didn't know you had it in you." She snickered, patting your back and following you as you closed the door, "Well I have to go to my boring science lectures now so, see you later hun." 
"Yeah, enjoy your chemistry period with your boyfriend!" You cheered sarcastically, rolling your eyes and hugging her to tell her that you were only joking. Your relationship was this, of jokes and hugs and kisses. You considered her your best friend. 
Rushing towards the gates of your university, you hastily tightened your loosening hair tie, adjusting the straps of your bags. You were pretty sure you had broken your record of being late to your class. You may hate the professor, but you actually enjoyed the subject. 
Wheezing as you ran past the late comers, you nodded at the receptionist, hastily signing yourself in. You would blame your clumsiness for what happened next, because one second you were fixing your sande on the foot of the fountain, and next thing you knew you were crashing into a firm body, your nose hitting the random stranger’s chest.
"I’m so sorry! I’m kinda late to class and I wasn’t looking and- whoa, ow.” You rushed your words, groaning when you felt blood rush from your head to toe, nose throbbing with double vision, a reminder of your clumsiness. 
“Whoa, hey calm down, it’s okay, I wasn’t looking either.” The stranger said, his thick South Western accent snapping you out of your self pity. 
You felt blood rush to your cheeks instead, not anticipating your face in a flush this early in the morning, when you got a good look at the stranger. He was good looking, in his black high turtleneck and brown checkered pants. He had a small leather satchel clutched in his hands, face looking as flushed as you felt when you realised that you had been gawking at him.
He was probably no older than his mid twenties, making you wonder what he was doing in your university. He was too old to be a student, and too young to be a professor. But then again, you wouldn't judge him for joining college late.
Right? 
"S-sorry, you um, you must be really late, you should go." He stuttered, your heart fluttering at his dimpled chin and thick accent. His eyes were gleaming in the morning sun, captivating in a way that left you in awe. 
"Um yeah, I am." You nodded, composing yourself, hoping that you didn't look too sleep deprived or disheveled, "where are you going, if you don't mind me asking."  
"Um, the architecture wing?" He said, unconsciously stepping besides you.
"Oh, I'm going that way. Is it your first time coming here? Haven't seen you around." You asked, trying not to stare at his sharp jawline and the way the morning sun hit him just right, illuminating and accentuating his curly brown hair. 
"Yeah, it's my first lecture, so um, looks like I'm late too." He smiled. It was infectious, you noticed as you mirrored his expression. 
"Oh, you're a student?" 
"Actually, I'm a professor. Just transferred from UCL." 
So you were right, he was a professor. He looks so young though. You thought, nodding at him, your thoughts interrupted by his laugh. Looking at him with confusion, you raised an eyebrow. 
"Yeah, everyone says that. I started right after finishing graduation so, I guess I'm not much older than you." He smiled, kicking the small pebbles littered around the set grassy ground. It had just rained, the smell of wet ground still fresh. 
"I said that out loud didn't I?" You smirked, ducking your head to hide. 
"You did." 
Entering the building, you realised that you hadn't asked which subject he taught, crossing your fingers and hoping that he would replace the old bastard that taught you cultural architecture. 
"I forgot to ask, which lecture do you teach?" You asked, looking for your class in the end. The hallways were empty, it was way past your first lecture and all the students were already in the auditorium. 
"Oh, uh, British History." He answered. You didn't let disappointment show too much on your face, smiling shyly before gesturing towards the class, "that's you." 
"Oh, um thank you." He smiled, pursing his thin lips together as he walked towards the class. You could hear screaming of the students as you both neared the classroom, you still standing by the door, "I didn't get your name." 
His question snapped you out of your disappointed gaze, 
"Oh, it's Y/n. Y/n L/n." You said with a smile. 
"Pleasure to meet you Y/n, I'm Thomas Holland, but you can call me Tom." He said awkwardly, before turning back to his class, who had yet to notice him.
"The pleasure's all mine Professor." 
For the first time in your college life, you didn't feel like tearing your hair off during your lecture, your thoughts wandering around. You wanted to berate yourself for not paying attention, but your thoughts kept going there. 
It was funny, how you met him not long ago and he was already taking up residence in your brain. You could not control your feelings after all. Something akin to nausea or excitement eased into your stomach when you pictured his smile, his black turtleneck that accentuated his biceps and pectorals. The little rebellious eyebrow and the tiny scar above it. 
It made your heart flutter, everything seemingly seemed to stop around you. It scared you a bit, how You had managed to envision the little details of his face in your brain after such a short duration. 
You didn't realise that you were smiling until you felt a nudge on your side, making you nearly jump on your seat. 
"What?!" You hissed, scowling at your classmate. 
"Who're you thinking about?" She asked, wiggling her eyebrows as she leaned towards you. You had known her long enough to know her name but never bothered learning, and you were too scared to ask now. 
"It's none of your business." You muttered, glancing up to see your professor scowling at a student as they stood up. 
"Well okay, but did you hear about the hot new professor? Apparently he's teaching British History, I regret not taking that as a subject now." She said, her cheeks flushed with excitement. You furrowed your brows, feeling a pang in your chest at the realisation that you were probably just another girl with a stupid crush on the hot professor, that there were already girls who would die to feel his touch. 
"How do you know about him?" You asked, raising an eyebrow as you try to act nonchalant. You weren't being subtle, apparently, because you could see her snapping her bubblegum with a smirk, leaning forward as if trading secrets. 
"You kidding right? Everyone knows about him, you got a crush on him or something?" She suggested, scooting close enough to make you squirm. 
"I literally just met him, and ew, he's a professor, why would I see him that way?" You whisper, willing your heart to stop palpitating at the thought of said professor, your gut twisting in anticipation. 
"I don't know girl, he's hot and young and so much better than this bastard." She sighed, leaning on her palm with a fake dreamy expression. 
You went back to ignoring her after that, noticing how her notebook said 'Eloise'. At least you didn't have to ask her her name now. 
Your class went surprisingly well, or maybe it was because you weren't paying attention and thinking about him again. You really needed to get a grip on yourself. 
Walking out of your class, you decided to go to the cafeteria, your stomach begging for your attention.
Setting your things on a table, you took out your phone to scroll through Instagram, before switching it off and looking around the cafeteria. You didn't know what you were expecting to see, but your stomach was gurgling with hunger and nothing made sense when you were hungry. 
Walking to grab something to eat, you pick up your bag, hanging it over one of your shoulders before getting in the line. 
Just as you were about to turn with your bun and cup of coffee, you crashed into someone for the second time that day. Cursing your clumsiness, you heard a familiar British accent curse not very colourful words, making you stumble over as you tried to wipe off the hot coffee off his shirt.
"Hey, it's okay." He said, stopping your frantic gestures by holding your wrist with his to cease any movements.
"Professor Holland! I'm so sorry, it's like, I'm just clumsy. I have no excuse." You sighed in resignation, mentally facepalming at spilling your coffee at the hot professor. 
"It's okay darling, I've had much worse spilled on me." He smirked, his hand still holding on to yours. You had started walking away from the location, and yet his hand didn't let go, "You know, I used to babysit during my college days." 
"Oh, babysitting, right of course." You chuckled awkwardly, chest heaving with the sudden close proximity with the professor, dissipating the not quite PG thought that just occurred in your mind at his words.. 
"Sorry for-" You said in unison with him, chuckling. 
"You go first." He said.
"I'm sorry for spilling coffee on You, it must have hurt and I ruined your shirt and now there's a big splotch of coffee right in the middle!" You said, circling your fingers around your palm as you walked with your back to the exit as you walked out of the cafeteria, food forgotten and him following your pace. 
Before you could continue your awkward blabber, you were standing in the garden outside, leaning against a pillar with the garden in your view looking golden in the setting sun. He was standing in your view, the shadows around his jaw making it look sharp enough to cut glass. 
Taking a breath, you looked up at his smiling form with confusion when he didn't answer, instead leant onto the pillar next to you.
"You were... gonna say something?" You reminded, smiling awkwardly as you fiddled with your fingers.
"Oh? Oh! Oh yes yes, You know, I was kind of disappointed that you weren't in my class, Mister Wilson talks very highly of you." He said, folding his arms on his chest, it made his biceps bulge. 
"He does?" You looked at him with surprise, guilt panging in your chest when you remembered yourself bad mouthing the professor not long ago. 
"Yes, says you're a bright student with a bright future." He answered, leaning his head back so that his neck was exposed, Adam's Apple bobbing as he gulped, his hair falling into place perfectly against his forehead. The arch of his neck was beautiful, tracing it with your eyeballs as you imagined which other curves of his were as beautiful, immediately dismissing those thoughts, chastising yourself for thinking such a way of a professor. 
"That's… sweet of him. I've never heard him compliment me once in the two and half years I've been in his class." You chuckle, leaning your elbow on the pillar to get a better look at his side profile. 
"Hmm, he says he's hard on you because he wants you to do your best..." 
You stopped listening past that, your breath growing more erratic the more he talked, his smooth voice washing over you like warm honey with a squeeze of lemon. Swallowing a sudden lump in your throat, your heart leaping, leaving you nauseous and in a dream like trance. 
Tom noticed immediately, noticing your slouched posture as you stared at him with a small smile, the upturn of your lips so inviting that he almost dived in, wanting to know the feeling of them what they felt like against his. 
He wasn't the kind to date his students, in fact, he rarely dated after joining uni and becoming a professor. 
He strictly believed that student/teacher relationships should end in only a professional non romantic set up. That was all up until he crashed into you that morning. 
You had been in his mind all day, stirring him crazy as he imagined your smile, the way your eyes lit up when you talked about your subject of interest, the say your fingers fiddled with the ring you wore on your index finger. 
He wondered if this feeling would last forever or become a vague memory, an attraction of hearts that didn't last but felt good till it did. If he was rushing, or if you even felt the same way. 
He was smart, of course that's how he became a teacher, but he still couldn't place your feelings. 
So when he saw you staring at him, his heart leaping in his throat at your adorable smile, the only logical answer his brain gave was that you liked him too. Temporary attraction or not, he wasn't one to look a gift horse in it's mouth. 
Next thing he knew your lips were crashing onto his, your chest pressed against his firmly as your hands reached up to the base of his neck. 
Your fingers were soft, tongue swishing against his as he opened his mouth to let you enter. His hands automatically reach for your waist, holding onto firmly as he slammed you against the pillar. 
The sun was nearly down, the last of the rays hitting the garden, lighting you both up in a golden glow that left you breathless with a fire raging in your souls. 
"What do you say that I audit for British history? I'd like to learn more lessons from you, Professor Holland." You said, breathless against his chest, hiding your nose against his sternum, blood rushing to your ears as his warm hand burned against the bare skin underneath your shirt. 
"That would be great darling, anything to see your pretty smile every morning." 
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A/N: let me know what you think! :)
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liyuesbian · 3 years
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✧ 101 dalmatians!au [ayaka]
notes: ........this is actually an updated (not rly) version of my 101 dalmatians!au with seulgi on my kpop gg writing blog..... sorryyyy i'm not being lazy i promise!! i've just got back from holiday and am working on a ningguang x reader but it might take a while (i rly wanna perfect it) so this is a placeholder for now :p
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you would occasionally spot kamisato ayaka in the park walking her dalmatian. she's well-known around the local area because of her older brother: the mayor of the city. in fact, you also have a dog of the same breed, which is what drew you to her in the first place—minus her eye-catchingly extravagant outfits and cute facial features.
your own dalmatian is wonderful. when you were ten years old, your christmas wish was to get a puppy. much to your younger self’s disappointment, santa claus had gifted you with a rather large—and older—"puppy" than you had imagined in your head. nevertheless, you treated the newly named pongo with as much love as you could give him.
fast forward about ten years later and here is the same pongo eagerly trying to gain your attention as you sit in front of your piano. you’re thinking of how best to go about composing the last few bars of a song you’re working on.
unbeknownst to you, the dalmatian had sneakily altered the time of the clock and is now motioning to the door, howling. you double-check the time on your wristwatch but despite the inconsistency, you decide to go for the daily walk and attach a leash to his collar. it seems like you have no other choice: pongo has your hat between his teeth and is scratching at the door handle. you laugh as you give in to your dog’s contagious enthusiasm, taking your fedora from his mouth.
with the leash in one hand and a ball in the other, you are manhandled—or should i say doghandled—as pongo drags you all the way to the park. he appears to be looking for something, but you dismiss it. you attempt to undo the clasp of the leash, failing when pongo suddenly dashes off.
“slow down, pongo!” you yelp. this kind of high-energy behaviour isn’t new to you but it certainly catches you off-guard. in the end, you let your dog indulge himself in his antics and you’re led to the edge of the lake where you take a seat and gasp for breath. goodness, you don’t think you’ve ever done so much running in your life.
exhausted, you fan yourself with your fedora and loosen the top button on your dress shirt. the grass underneath you feels nice to rest on compared to the wooden chair you’d been sitting on for the whole morning.
it takes you a second to notice your companion gazing at a certain animal behind you. turning around, you recognise the dalmatian who’s seized pongo’s eyes from her pink collar and apprehensively look up to the owner. she’s perched on a bench next to the dog with her signature fan and a book in her hands. in shock, you jerk your head forward and blink a few times.
should we move somewhere else?
as if sensing your uneasiness, pongo barks and jumps to grab your hat. you sigh but grin at his mischievous face.
“come on, pongo. give it back.” taking her eyes off the pages of her book, ayaka glances at you and your dog, the ends of her mouth curving up ever so slightly to form a smile which stays hidden behind the upright fan. you throw the ball lightly in an attempt to get him to drop your hat.
it doesn't quite work and instead, rolls in the direction of the occupied bench. perdita, ayaka's dalmatian, glimpses at it, trying to withhold the urge to play with the bouncy toy. ayaka chuckles which causes you to cease your glaring at pongo to face her. the ringing of her laugh is pleasant and something you haven’t noticed before.
if only i could hear it every day. gently, you hit your cheeks to awaken yourself from your thoughts.
pongo is now frolicking in circles with the captured hat, vying for the attention of ayaka's dog. while you’re battling a two-way argument in your head and one with your dalmatian, you feel a soft nudge on your thigh. perdita has given you the ball back, and you could hear pongo whimpering sadly. impressed, you pet perdita who reacts with a delightful pant. the female dalmatian glances at pongo and apathetically walks back to her owner, who attaches a leash. they start to walk away.
pongo yaps in surprise. quickly, he abandons your hat and is about to take off when you tell him to stay, which he does obediently. you could tell your dog is planning to go after perdita, but you don’t want him running around aimlessly so you fasten his leash.
as soon as you do though, you’re being hauled once again towards kamisato ayaka. the hyperactive dalmatian follows the blue-haired woman and playfully circles her, earning a giggle from the subject of interest. unfortunately for the both of you, your legs have gotten tied to hers.
“oh my, i'm very sorry about this!” you blush. of course, you’ve never been in such close quarters with her before making it all the more embarrassing but you don’t entirely regret this moment either… until you realise that with the both of you frantically trying to get out of the awkward position and your dog pulling at the leash, the result would be all three of you tethering on the edge of the lake and perdita helplessly grabbing onto her owner to prevent the fall.
“oh no.” a splash is heard throughout the park.
clothes damp, you sit in the shallow water in cold shock, finding yourself no longer tangled around the dog leash. next to you, ayaka stands up to try searching for her hat and fan which pongo finds and gives to you with an almost apologetic expression.
“it seems i've lost my belongings,” she says worriedly.
“don’t worry, i have the things you're looking for right here.” you hand her her possessions and fix her hair but to no avail.
“ah, thank you.” you brush her wet bangs to the side so she could see.
“i'm truly very sorry! i don’t know how we ended up in the lake of all things.” you apologise profusely to the bewildered lady and attempt to make things better by removing the plants from her clothes. meanwhile, pongo has shaken himself dry and is relaxing next to perdita.
gosh, what kind of situation have i gotten myself into?
“no, it’s alright, i'll just dry myself off for now.” you see ayaka fetching a… soaked handkerchief from her purse.
“hold on, i usually carry one in my pocket.” however, yours too, is also drenched. “oh—"
ayaka begins to giggle. dumbfounded, you laugh with her. both of your dogs glance at each other and back at the pair of you, cocking their heads. you thought the pleasant sound and amicable smile were the only things about her laughter that could make your heart swell but now, with ayaka right in front of you, you notice things you would’ve never been able to before. you witness how her eyes crinkle and close shut and how her cheeks balloon revealing an even more charming side to her. you wonder what it would be like if you could make her this happy all the time.
after helping ayaka out of the pond, you feel it wouldn’t be right to leave her to go home all doused in water.
“would it be possible to invite you to our house? we live close by so it would be no trouble at all if you want to dry off there. it would probably be very uncomfortable to journey home in this state and i can't bear to watch you attempt to.” shyly, you meet her eyes after your impromptu offer to see ayaka grinning.
“i think i'd like to accept that offer. i suppose it is your fault too!” she quips and jokingly nudges your shoulder.
you smile back and turn to face your dalmatian who you will whisper many thank yous to later in life.
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