#god jacks sucks. guys he’s lame like look at him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gimmethatagustd · 1 year

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blunt rotation | pjm

Supplying your law school classmates with weed on the regular might as well be a full-time job. It's lucrative, but lately, you've seen a dip in profits. Maybe it's because you keep giving out the Pretty Boy Discount to a certain guy in your ethics class…

↳ pairing: prettyboy!jimin x weedgirl!reader

↳ rating/genre: BTS | 18+ | law school au | classmates to lovers | smut

↳ wc/date: 7.5k | april 2023

↳ notes: on god, this fic is probably more about weed than anything else khskdjfs i would apologize but i already warned y’all, so you get what you get. these 420 fics are probs especially bad, and i decided i do not care. #blazeit

↳ masterlist

↳ what was jai listening to? a weed playlist made by yours truly

“What is the difference between ethics, morality, and law?”

Professor Kim leans against the desk at the front of the lecture hall with his hands gripping the edge on either side of his hips. The action makes the muscles in his arms flex, and you eat up the tan skin exposed by how his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. The tight white button-up accentuates plump pectoral muscles that threaten to pop and lose a few buttons. It wouldn’t surprise you if it happened. Professor Kim is known for being accidentally destructive.

It is unethical to fuck your professor because it would create a conflict of interest; you’d imagine it would be hard for Professor Kim to ethically assess your academic performance if he’d been balls deep in you.

It’s morally wrong to fuck your professor because you know he’s married, not because he has ever provided your class with information about his personal life, but because you sit at the front of the class. From your position, you can see the glint of his wedding band.

Legally, you’re pretty sure there isn’t a law against fucking your professor. It probably goes against your university’s code of conduct, but that’s not a law.

You sink further into your seat and let your eyes wander the room. Everyone diligently takes notes as Professor Kim turns to the presentation projected on the large screen behind him. Ethics and Professional Responsibility isn’t your favorite class, but no one said getting your J.D. would be fun. On the contrary, everyone you knew said it would fucking suck. And it kinda does.

One thing that doesn't suck, though, is having a class with your program’s resident pretty boy, Park Jimin.

Pretty boys aren’t your type at all. You prefer boys who are rough around the edges. You're not interested if a guy doesn’t look like he’s a one-way ticket to jail or hell. Maybe it’s the rebel in you. Maybe you like the idea that opposites attract. A lawyer and a criminal sounds like a cute ship, no?

Pretty boys are too soft for you. They’re the type to have skincare routines and listen to Jack Harlow. No thanks.

Yet your eyes always manage to find Jimin.

He’s sitting to your left and a few rows behind you, but close enough to see him when you turn your head. He sits with perfect posture as he scribbles notes on his iPad, plump lips puckered in a cute little beak of concentration.

Fuck, no, not cute. Ridiculous. Soft and childish. Everyone in the room is at least in their mid-twenties, some even in their late fifties. A prestigious J.D. program has no room for beaks and squishy cheeks.

You’re about to look away when Jimin lifts his stylus to his mouth. The end presses a small dent into his plush bottom lip. You instinctually lick your lips, though your mouth suddenly feels dry.

Jimin sits that way for a few more seconds with furrowed eyebrows as he focuses on his notes. At Professor Kim’s mention of the end-of-the-year oral argument, your classmate finally lifts his head to face the front of the room. His eyes are bright and wide, unlike the haggard look of your peers, and you watch them shift back and forth as he reads whatever is on the screen. You have no idea what Professor Kim’s talking about; your roommate, Hoseok, will fill you in when you get home.

All you know is that Jimin finally pulls his stylus away from his lips and casts a sideways glance in your direction. You lock eyes for a split second before he quickly ducks his head, suddenly interested in his notes again.

You snort loud enough for the woman sitting next to you to give you an odd look, but you ignore her and return your eyes to Professor Kim.

Your eyes don’t stray from the front of the lecture hall for the rest of the class. It’s not difficult; there isn’t anything else you find interesting enough in the room to distract you. Nothing. Especially not Pretty Boy Jimin.

🍃

“Hey, can I come over tonight?”

Two pale hands splay across your desk once the class is dismissed. Chipped, black polish adorns each nail, except for the pinkies, which are painted white.

“Why are you asking me? You don’t need my permission to visit your boyfriend’s apartment.”

“I’m trying to work on my manners, jeez.”

You roll your eyes and slide your tablet into your backpack. “Where were your manners when you and Hobi fucked on my couch? Hmm, Yoongi? Where were they then?”

Yoongi lets out a low groan as he steps to the side to let you fall in line with him as you exit the classroom. Your roommate is waiting in the hallway, always the last student to arrive and the first to leave.

“That’s different,” Yoongi huffs, though this time, the sound is due to Hoseok crushing him in a hug once they make it into the hall. “Besides, I’m asking because I’m bringing my friend. We aren’t going to stay. He just wants someone to come with him.”

Hoseok untangles his arms from Yoongi’s and adjusts his backpack. Your best friends act like surviving a three-hour class is like surviving a lifetime apart.

“Ohh, a friend?” Hoseok leans against Yoongi with his eyebrows arched. His questioning tone is fair. The three of you don’t have many friends aside from each other. It’s hard to maintain friendships with people outside of law school. There’s simply no time.

“What is this, the buddy system?” You snicker as you follow the two men to their cars. “Sorry, I only do business with adults.”

There is quite literally no reason for you to be judgemental about whoever this mystery friend is, but class has put you in a cranky mood. Probably because of stupid fucking Park Jimin with his distracting lips. Your unpreparedness for the oral argument is slowly causing anxiety to creep into your chest.

Yoongi gives you a light smack to your bicep. “Some people get nervous about this shit, you know that.”

“It’s weed, oh my god. You act like we’re cooking meth in our basement.”

Yoongi stops walking to give you a stern look with narrowed eyes and a cocked head. “You don’t even have a basement.”

“Yeah, well, it’s 2023, and weed is legal.”

“It is legal to purchase weed at a licensed dispensary. However, you are not licensed to sell weed, nor is your apartment a dispensary.”

“It’s got enough weed in it to be one,” Hoseok snorts, but the sound quickly morphs into a severe cough when Yoongi’s glare is directed at him.

Yoongi yanks his car door open and slides into the driver’s seat. Then, with one leg still on the ground and his arm holding the door open, he lets out a long sigh. “You two are insufferable.”

“Love you too, babe!” Hoseok giggles and sends his boyfriend a flying kiss as Yoongi drives out of the parking lot.

“For an anti-capitalist, Yoongi is so old-fashioned. I’m providing a product to the everyday person at a reasonable price,” you grumble while you fasten your seatbelt in Hoseok’s car. “Dispensaries are classist. They’re way too fucking expensive, and they’re all in affluent neighborhoods, anyway. The gentrification of marijuana in this country is ridiculous. Where does Yoongi think those tax funds end up? Not in neighborhoods that need them. And what about expunging people’s records? Is the government ever going to do that?”

You slump in your seat, the sudden energetic burst of social consciousness in you dying out. “I hate rich people.”

Hoseok hums in agreement, keeping his eyes on the road as he drives. “We’re about to be rich people, though.”

“Not me. Civil rights law isn’t going to make me rich, and I’m not touching corporate with a ten-foot pole.”

Yoongi and so many other people in your program are too dependent on what is and don’t stop to question what can be or what should be.

Ethics is a social construct, morality is subjective, and law is arbitrary.

Going to law school is less about learning how to be a lawyer and more about learning how to play a game.

🍃

When Park Jimin walks into your living room, all you can do is blink at him. Your eyes are red and glassy, your mouth dry even though you’ve been sipping water, and your limbs feel too gooey to bother getting up. Maybe you’re hallucinating him, which would be very upsetting because you don’t want to explore why he’s sticking around in your head.

But then Yoongi is ushering the guy to sit next to you, and the dip in the couch as he eases down feels too real.

“Ah, Jimin! You’re the friend!” Hoseok gives the newcomer a blinding smile. Smoke punctuates each word, billowing toward the ceiling. There’s already a thin haze to the room; you and Hoseok have been smoking for a while. “Welcome to our humble abode.”

Jimin gives Hoseok a small smile. He also turns to give you one, but it falters when you meet his gaze.

You’re not sure what expression you’re wearing. It could be anything, really. Or nothing at all.

“Hi,” he says quietly. His lips are so pink. You want to ask him how soft they are.

“How much do you want?” Is what you ask instead.

Jimin turns to Yoongi, who is now cuddled up with Hoseok on the other side of the room. The chair is made for only one person, but they have never known personal boundaries. You suppose if they’re dating, it doesn’t matter.

“Just give him an eighth,” Yoongi says with a dismissive wave. He’s more focused on plucking the blunt from Hoseok’s lips and bringing it to his own.

“Of what?” You huff your words, twisting the joint you’ve got between your middle finger and thumb. It’s clear that Jimin knows nothing about weed. He can’t even come up with a measurement or a strain.

Yoongi glares at you as if this is somehow your fault before saying, “Anything. Maybe not Girl Scout Cookies or Sour Diesel, though. I don’t want his brain melting out of his ears.”

Jimin makes a slight noise of surprise at that.

“Kidding,” Yoongi teases. “Well, about the brain-melting part. I mean it about the strains, though.”

Leaving your joint in an ashtray on the coffee table, you stand up with a groan. Moving is low on your list of things to do right now. The indica you’ve been smoking makes your movements feel slow, though you can’t tell if they actually are.

“Come on,” you mumble, gesturing for him to follow you down the hall. He goes without a word, eyes wide as if he’s about to discover something profound within the walls of your apartment. You don’t want to admit how cute he is, just as timid in your apartment as in class.

“We keep everything in the office. It’s super organized, but I guess that’s expected.” You don’t know why you’re rambling (yes, you do, it’s the weed).

Jimin nods. “Makes sense.”

He’s so cute, you think, when he asks if he wants you to close the door once you’ve reached the office. As if there is something to hide in here. Hoseok and Yoongi are the only other people in the apartment.

“I’m going to give you a hybrid. You know what that means?”

Jimin hovers over you when you crouch next to a dresser with multiple drawers. Numerous glass jars, all labeled with pieces of white tape and messy handwriting, are stacked in the drawer you open. You sift through them, taking a few to inspect before placing them back again.

“I do not.” At least he’s honest.

“It’s the happy medium between sativa and indica. Sativa gives you a head high. People tend to feel alert and creative sometimes. Indica gives you a body high. It’s the stereotypical kind of weed people talk about that makes you lazy and get the munchies. It’s because sativa has more THC than CBD, whereas indica is more CBD-heavy. Think about how people use CBD products when they’ve got joint pains or anxiety, right?”

“Oh, I didn’t know that.” The statement is redundant, but you don’t mention it. Jimin looks like he hangs onto your every word as though his life depends on it. It’s funny, and you have to stop yourself from laughing at him.

Finding what you’re looking for, you hand a jar to Jimin. “It’s already weighed, so you can take the whole thing.”

Jimin holds the jar like it’s a newborn. This time, you let a few giggles slip out.

“Do you have something to smoke it with? A piece or a bong?”

A shake of his head is no surprise, but you act shocked because you’re high and feeling good, and you love how he looks when his eyes grow wide.

“Wow, you’re so cute,” you say with a grin that starkly opposes the shy blush that paints Jimin’s face. “You probably don’t know how to roll either, do you?”

Another shake of his head. Of course.

It’s not difficult to show Jimin how. You pull up another chair at your desk and push away all your notes and textbooks for school to clear a path to work. You show him how to grind the weed and roll a blunt and a joint — so he can figure out which one he likes better.

Jimin’s body is warm as he presses against yours, your shoulders bumping into each other every time you move your arm. He keeps close, eyes glued to your hands as you work slowly but diligently. It’s a bit disarming having him so close. Aside from the occasional hello during class, you’ve never really talked to Jimin. Concentrating with all his Pretty Boy energy fogging up your mind is tricky.

Or is it the weed? Nah, it’s the weed.

“If you end up not liking either, go to a head shop to buy a bowl — it’s a pipe. Maybe don’t go with a bong yet. Yoongi can help you. He likes bowls better, so he’ll have good recommendations.”

Once finished, you slip the blunts and joints into a ziplock bag. When you pass it to Jimin, you can’t help but let your fingers brush against his. The touch sends waves of hot electricity up your arm. The shock of it makes your entire body tingle. Sure, the weed is making your body extra sensitive, but it’s not only that. He’s so fucking hot.

You don’t realize you’re staring at him. It’s hard not to stare or even know where to begin. His plush, pillowy lips? His fluffy, dirty-blonde hair that falls into his eyes? So cute that you don’t even care when he has to do a Bieber flip to get his bangs out of his face?

And, fuck, he’s not wearing the usual crisp white Oxford shirt and black chinos get-up. He must have gone home to change after class because now he’s wearing a form-fitting black t-shirt (probably designer from the looks of it) and grey jogger sweatpants that do nothing to hide how thick his thighs are and you’re sure if you get a chance to look at his ass you’ll find that that part of his body is thick, too. Expensive athleisure wear looks even better on him than professional clothing. It makes him look soft.

“Thank you,” Jimin says, speaking your name softly, and you feel like your knees grow weak at the sound of it tumbling from lips like those. “I’m sorry, I feel like I barged in here and took up your time. Not knowing anything… I’m sure you’re used to people with more knowledge than I do.”

Shaking your head, you guide Jimin out of the office and lock it behind you. “Don’t worry about it. Everyone has to start somewhere, right?”

It’s funny that he’s concerned about something like this, as if marijuana knowledge is so embarrassing not to have.

When you turn around, you realize the two of you are standing way too close. Your apartment isn’t a shoebox, but it certainly isn’t large. The hallway is slim, and Hoseok has a million and one plants and decorative furniture scattered around for the “aesthetic,” which makes it even harder to navigate tight spaces.

You’re not complaining, though. This close, you can see that Jimin is wearing contacts that make his eyes hazel, little flecks of orangish-brown highlighting his naturally dark irises.

Jimin’s eyes drop to your lips, and you feel your stomach drop along with them. Even though you’re not touching each other, your skin tingles with the knowledge that you could be touching. He’s so close. All it would take is one tiny shuffle forward, and you could slot yourself against his nimble — but what you assume is a very solid — frame.

“Yeah,” he speaks as he releases a soft exhale. You feel his warmth and shudder. “Thank you, still.”

“No problem,” you whisper.

Jimin’s tongue darts out to run across his bottom lip. His teeth draw it in slightly, and when he lets go, you can see how his lip bounces back into place.

Dragging your eyes back to meet his takes an embarrassing amount of effort. He’s finally looking at your eyes, too, with an expression you don’t understand because you don’t really know him.

“How much do I owe you?”

Right. Because he’s here with Yoongi for a reason. You swallow, turning your head to the side to hopefully break whatever spell Jimin and weed have put you under.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Jimin inhales sharply, but you keep your eyes down. “I must pay you something. I don’t know what’s a standard amount.”

If you were anyone else, you could honestly rip him off. The guy has no clue — he is even admitting that he doesn’t! But there are embers smoldering in the pit of your stomach.

“Nope,” you say with a tone of finality. You can hardly think before your following words slip out of your mouth like snakes. “Pretty Boys get weed free of charge.”

“W-w-what?” Jimin looks unbearably cute when he’s confused. It’s almost too much for you to handle.

So you don’t.

Without another word, you head back to the living room. Jimin follows silently. You’re sure his face is still painted with shock because Yoongi gives the two of you an odd look.

“Right where I left you,” you tease.

Untangling his limbs from Hoseok’s, Yoongi lets out an old man grunt and stands. You hadn’t believed him when he said he wouldn’t be staying, but it’s clear that he’s sticking to his promise when he starts patting down his legs to make sure he has his keys.

“Got what you need, Chim?”

Chim? How close are Yoongi and Jimin? And why are you only now learning of this friendship?

Jimin nods, his bottom lip between his teeth once again. He insists that you’ve been a great help to him, all while keeping his eyes locked with yours. It’s so different than his shy avoidance in class.

“Don’t worry, Yoong,” you insist as you plop back on the couch. Your joint is patiently waiting for you. “I took good care of him.”

🍃

You’ve never been very good at math, but it doesn’t take a mathematician to know that Pretty Boy Jimin ends up costing you hundreds of dollars as the semester progresses.

All your peers will walk away from law school making six figures easily. But not you. You just had to give a shit about the world, didn’t you? You just had to pick an area of law that values protecting human rights over making a profit.

God, being a good person is so hard!

And now, Park Jimin is sucking you dry before you can even earn money. Every time his fat little ass sashays away from your apartment with another jar of free weed, you can practically hear the chime of money signs ringing out with each step.

There’s a worse feeling, though. It hadn’t occurred to you until now, as you stand in the entranceway of Jimin’s apartment unit, your backpack carrying precious cargo inside slung over one shoulder.

Allowing Jimin to walk out of your apartment with the Pretty Boy Discount of free marijuana hurts your pocket, but doing a free weed delivery is even more pathetic. You're wasting your own time and gas money to drive to Park Jimin’s motherfucking apartment to deliver him weed that you aren’t even going to charge him for simply because he’s hot.

Maybe this is the terrible consequence of abstaining from sex to “focus on school” — as if smoking weed with Hoseok all day isn’t a distraction. But, on the other hand, maybe you just need to get laid.

Dipping on this commitment would be easy, you think as you bounce on the balls of your feet. You could leave right now before Jimin answers the door, ask Hoseok to handle Jimin’s future requests, and put all of this behind you. But, of course, the entire situation is ridiculous anyway. You don’t even know Jimin. Not really.

There’s a clicking sound from the other side of Jimin’s front door. Logically, you know it’s the sound of him unlocking the door, but your nerves tell you it’s the sound of your fate being locked into place. It may as well be because Jimin opens the door with a smile that puffs up his cheeks, his hair looks damp, and he smells like body wash.

Fuck.

“Hi!” His voice squeaks, but a deep cough returns it to a normal tone. “I mean, uh, I appreciate you coming by.”

Your tongue presses into your cheek as you regard him for a moment. He might consider your silence as negative because he quickly sidesteps to allow you into his apartment.

You give Jimin a smirk. “I think you should at least give me a tip.”

“O-oh, I mean… oh, um,” he stutters, and you can’t help but laugh.

A rush of air escapes your nostrils in a low-energy, nearly silent laugh. While coming to Jimin’s place might seem like a lot of effort, the truth is that you’re bored, and lately, you’ve been seeking anything to get your mind off the loneliness you feel when your apartment is dark and Hoseok is with Yoongi.

So, even though part of you chastises yourself, you’re willing to risk looking pathetic or desperate if it means you can have someone to smoke with and get some time away from your too-quiet apartment. Not because Jimin is the most attractive person you’ve ever seen in your entire life.

Jimin’s pretty eyes widen, and you quickly wave your hand to brush off his sudden panic.

“I’m kidding,” you confess as you twist your backpack around your body to pull out a small glass mason jar. It’s cute how concerned he is.

No, not cute. Naive. You shake yourself out of the feeling.

”Well, come on then.” You walk through Jimin’s apartment into the living room. It’s your first time making a delivery with him, so you’ve never been to his apartment. Yet you walk through the building with unearned familiarity. You’ve got manners; sometimes, you choose not to use them.

“How have you and Hoseok been?”

“Prepping for finals. And that fucking oral argument Kim’s got us doing,” you groan. School talk wasn’t something you had in mind when you showed up, but in the months you’ve spent getting to know Jimin more, you’ve learned he’s a total nerd. He’s probably excited about the assessment.

“Sometimes I think he’s trying to kill us,” Jimin says with a slight grin. “Is it ethical, moral, or legal to terrify your students to the point of throwing up before evaluations?”

“Don’t tease Yoongi like that! You know he has public speaking anxiety!”

Jimin does a little half-skip to avoid your attempt to slap his chest. Although you know the both of you are drowning in student loans and law school tuition fees, the apartment is much nicer than expected. You wonder if Jimin has a roommate. He’s never mentioned one before.

“Don’t tell him, or he’ll beat me up.”

Eyerolls aren’t a commitment to anything, but you know Jimin knows you wouldn’t dare repeat his words.

Plopping onto his couch, you scoot the coffee table between your knees and set the jar down. Beside the jar, you place everything you need to roll for Jimin, including a grinder and swishers. You could have rolled it all in advance, but you don’t like to feel rushed. Prepping is the best part. It relaxes you.

Jimin slowly slides into place beside you on the couch. He leaves enough room between the two of you to be respectful, although something tells you it’s less about his desire to make you feel comfortable and more about his discomfort.

He’s nervous, but you don’t know why. He keeps dragging his palms against his thighs, roughly rubbing his jeans. Every once in a while, he lifts his hand to touch his bottom lip. Then, when you sneak a glance at him, he quickly turns away. There’s nothing of note to look at in the apartment, but he seems engrossed in something for those fleeting moments before you’re sure he’s looking at you once again.

“I should probably learn how to do this… Like, properly… I can’t remember everything you did the first time,” Jimin mumbles. When you look up, his cheeks are dusted a light pink.

“Sorry, I probably went too fast that time.” You give him an apologetic look that makes his face redden even more. “It’s not as hard as people make it out to be. Just need a good teacher.”

If Jimin expects you to be his teacher again, he doesn’t say so. You could be. You can’t stop yourself from giving the guy free weed; you might as well add comprehensive rolling lessons in the mix.

By this point, rolling a blunt is about muscle memory; you don’t have to use an ounce of brainpower. Your eyes can wander, sweep over the contents of Jimin's living room, your thoughts floating off to wonder about the little details of the man’s life you aren’t privy to. Who are his friends? Where is his family? You look for photographs on shelves or hanging on the walls, items that are a staple in your and Hoseok’s apartment. Would Yoongi be in any of his photos? So many people in the city come in like ghosts.

“Do you, um, would you like to stay?”

Jimin's voice pulls you back to the living room, where your hands have already finished two blunts without you realizing it.

"Isn’t that what you meant when you said I could smoke with you?" You question around the blunt you’ve brought between your lips, pausing to light it.

Jimin shakes his head, not as an answer to your question, but to himself. “Yes, of course.”

“You wanna share this or smoke your own?" You can keep working on rolling the rest in the meantime.

Rather than answer your question verbally, Jimin does something that makes your heart fall into the pit of your fucking stomach. The supposedly shy, naive man parts his lips and juts his chin toward you.

The meaning behind his action hits you in the chest immediately. You let your eyes drift over his mouth, and you try not to react when his tongue swipes across his bottom lip while he patiently waits for you to give him what he wants. And you’re gonna do it, too. No questions asked.

Pinching the blunt between your middle finger and thumb, you twist on the couch to face Jimin with your legs tucked beneath you. Of course, if your fingertips brush against his lips when you place the blunt between them, that’s no one’s business, and you fucking plead the fifth, thanks.

Jimin’s eyes never leave yours when he wraps his lips around the blunt and inhales. He takes the hit like a champ, not coughing once despite the smoke’s thickness when he exhales. It’s been a few months since he started coming to you for weed. You shouldn’t be proud of his improvement, but you are anyway. Even if it’s weird to be.

“Thanks.” Jimin looks like a droopy-eyed dragon, eyes heavy and narrow when he expresses his appreciation. His voice is low and thick, and it makes your stomach swoop.

You nod your head and take the blunt from him. “No problem.”

Time is hardly discernible in normal circumstances for you, especially when you’re high. So you can’t imagine how long you sit with Jimin on his couch, watching smoke billow in the air and talking about how unfortunate it is that Frank Ocean and Rihanna ghosted the music industry.

For a while, the two of you fall silent. You lean your head against the couch and close your eyes, content with listening to the music Jimin put on until another thought enters your mind. One you can’t bring yourself to ignore.

“You ever fucked while you’re high?”

You ask the question once you and Jimin have finished the first blunt and move on to the second. The lighter you’re using is hot pink with blue and purple flowers printed on it. Something feels fitting about that.

The question takes you by surprise even though you’re the one asking it, unsure why you’re asking it aside from knowing the weed will make you more likely to speak your mind. Jimin, though. The poor guy is even more startled. As he should be, you think.

His hand trembles slightly when he passes you the blunt when it’s your turn to take a hit. “Uhh, um, have I— what?”

You roll your eyes and blow a smoke ring in Jimin’s direction. You wait for his coughing to subside before you repeat yourself.

“Have you ever had sex while under the influence of marijuana, Jimin-ssi?”

“No…”

“Hmm, you should. It’s really fun. Feels good.”

“Oh.”

“Do you wanna try it now?”

It’s comical how Jimin gulps, literally gulps, like a fucking cartoon character. “Now?”

Marijuana is an aphrodisiac. It won’t make Jimin want you, but it’s clear from his suggestive behavior that he already does. The weed will simply, hopefully, make him less nervous about it.

You pretend you don’t notice how he shifts to press his thighs together on the couch.

“Come on,” you encourage him. “Stop thinking so much.”

You know you’re too forward and sudden, but it feels justified because you’ve been thinking about Jimin for months. The buildup over the past few months has been stifling.

Giving consent is what finally unlocks something in Jimin. One moment he’s staring at you with wide, timid eyes; the next, he’s got his hand around your throat.

With a light squeeze, Jimin pulls you into him to slot his lips with yours. Holding back a moan is nearly impossible when his tongue pries your lips open. It’s wet and hot, and your skin tingles when you taste the smoke on him when his tongue curls around your own. Smoking always makes you feel warm, but you feel like you’re on fire when Jimin whimpers into your mouth. His pace is unrelenting. You feel like you’re tripping over yourself as you attempt to keep up with the quick work of his lips. The effort has you practically straddling his lap.

Tightening his grip on your throat, Jimin uses it to tilt you how he wants you. A pleased hum vibrates against your mouth when he hears you moan from the pressure of his fingers digging into the soft skin of your neck. It’s only when you start to get lightheaded, and your lips slow that Jimin finally pulls away.

His eyes' heavy, sensual look remains, but you’re surprised to find his slick lips forced into a frown.

“I’m sorry.”

You could ask why, but you assume Jimin’s forwardness isn’t typical behavior. The good thing is that it is for you.

Rather than address the unnecessary tension, you let your lips do all the work and pull Jimin in for another ruthless kiss.

“I don’t wanna hear any apologies from you,” you murmur against his mouth. “The only thing I want your lips doing is eating me out.”

Jimin lets out a high-pitched whine that sets something dangerous off, buzzing through your body. “Please.”

Maybe you’re pathetic with how quickly you strip yourself of your clothes, but Jimin doesn’t seem to care. His eyes never leave your body as you toss the clothing onto the floor. “You’re so beautiful…”

“Yeah?” You lean with your back against the arm of the couch, scooting down slightly so you can let your legs fall open.

He nods sharply and is silent momentarily as he rubs his palms down the length of your legs, settling between them.

"I've always wanted to talk to you," Jimin speaks with a hushed tone. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh. "I just get nervous. I'm sure that seems pretty lame."

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak. Every touch sends goosebumps pebbling across your skin. It’s exhilarating. You feel like your entire body is a hot wire, sparking and buzzing at a dangerous frequency.

"Yoongi said this would be a good way for us to get to know each other. The weed, not this this!" It's shocking to you how adorable he can be at the same time he sucks the skin of your inner thigh into his mouth, swirling his tongue around after biting down hard enough to make you gasp.

Your head falls back as you feel the tip of Jimin’s tongue drags along your clit. He swirls it around, drawing small circles in a steady rhythm. Every time his tongue pulls back, you can hear a soft smacking sound of his lips. He’s likely swallowing the drool collecting in his mouth. You’re sure he’s probably getting a bad case of cotton mouth from the excessive sound.

It makes you smile knowing he’s that sensitive. It takes much more weed in your system to start feeling dry in the mouth, but you’ve been smoking more years than Jimin and at a higher frequency.

“Oh fuck,” you moan out a misshapen puff of smoke when Jimin’s tongue returns to your clit.

This time he wraps his plush lips around it and suckles lightly, using his tongue to flick from side to side. His little grunts and moans make your pussy vibrate, sending a tingling sensation through the inside of your thighs and down to your toes.

Your hand shakes as you bring the blunt back to your lips. A whine tries to break through, but you force it back down your throat as you inhale more smoke. It’s hard when your body feels like it’s burning up.

Every gentle touch of Jimin’s lips and tongue on your skin feels like a punch to your stomach in a way that is so deliriously delicious you can hardly take it. Wetness drips down your pussy and smears against your thighs, either from your arousal or Jimin’s drool or both, but you don’t care how messy it is when Jimin pulls back enough to spit more onto your clit.

You let out a surprised sound, lifting your head slightly to see a string of saliva connect Jimin’s pouty bottom lip with your skin.

Fuck, you didn’t think Pretty Boy had it in him.

Using two fingers, Jimin spreads his spit around your clit, pushing it down until he slides into your pussy with ease. You didn’t need the extra lubrication, but you groan at the wet sound that echoes through Jimin’s apartment as he thrusts his fingers deep inside you. He brings his lips back to your clit, sucking harder and massaging your skin with his tongue even faster to match the pace his fingers take.

When he finally locates the spot that makes your legs shake, hitting it repeatedly, you dig your fingers into his fluffy hair and yank his head back.

“H-h-here,” you stutter, pressing the blunt against his lips. They’re shiny, and the idea of sticking a wet blunt between your lips makes you want to cringe, but you don’t care because his lips are shiny with you.

Jimin doesn’t stop thrusting into you, but his pace slows as he concentrates on taking another hit.

“I’m so fucking hard,” he groans. With the blunt between his lips, Jimin’s hands fly to unbutton his jeans. Another groan sounds around the blunt once he’s freed himself of the retraining pants.

You let out a quiet sigh as you try to collect yourself while Jimin smokes. “I told you it feels good. It’s different, isn’t it?”

“Mhmm…”

There’s a large wet patch staining the front of Jimin’s briefs. It makes the fabric stick to his cock, clearly outlining his length and girth — big enough to make you drool but small enough that you won’t go home sore and regretful.

“Lemme ride you.” You use your free hand to push Jimin into the back of the couch. He plants his feet on the floor and spreads his thighs as you get comfortable in his lap. “Wanna smoke the rest while we fuck.”

Your head is in the clouds, your body melting like butter as Jimin skirts his hands along your sides. He eventually pauses to squeeze your hips, and you swear you can feel him all over you.

It’s quick work, tugging down the final article of clothing separating the two of you. It’s hard not to stare, especially when Jimin twitches and shivers with every light touch of your fingertips along the ridges and veins of his cock.

Your clit drags against the head of his cock when you adjust in his lap, and you let out a ragged moan.

“Soaked,” Jimin murmurs, “You’ve got me all wet.”

It’s true. Jimin’s thighs glisten from where you’ve leaked all over him. Your clit throbs so much it’s beginning to hurt from the sensitivity.

“Condom,” you practically wheeze out. “If you go in raw, you’re probably gonna bust a nut immediately, and I’m not interested in that for many reasons.”

Jimin’s face turns even pinker.

“O-okay, give me a second, please.” So fucking polite, and for what?

He holds you at the base of your spine with one hand as he leans forward to snatch his jeans with his other hand. There’s a condom in his wallet, so you assume your classmate isn’t all innocent.

It’s quick work rolling the condom on. Uninterested in teasing yourself further because you feel like you’ll die if you don’t orgasm soon, you push Jimin hard against the back of the couch. You slip down his cock with ease, with no stretch or sting, from how turned on you are.

“I feel like I’m already gonna come.” Jimin throws his head back against the couch.

His lips fall open, and you quickly snatch the blunt from them so it doesn’t fall and burn one of you. He looks beautiful, angelic even. His lips are puffy and pink, his cute little mismatched front teeth peeking out. His tongue flicks around his mouth as his breathing grows heavier.

You squeeze one of his shoulders with your free hand while your other keeps the blunt pinched to your lips. As you take a drag, you lift your hips and quickly bring them back down, your ass slapping Jimin’s thighs as you engulf his cock again. Your skin sounds wet and sticky, but Jimin’s whine drowns out the sound.

“Shit,” he hisses. Blunt nails dig into your skin, but it doesn’t hurt; it only feels good. Everything feels so good.

You hardly notice how hard you shake as you slam yourself down on Jimins’ cock again. Your head is too spacey to go fast, but you do your best to set a steady pace of bouncing on Jimin’s cock. It doesn’t matter if he’s already going to come. You feel your orgasm building up with every squeeze of his fingers and the pathetic moans from his mouth.

You lean forward to latch your lips to the base of Jimin’s neck when he again drops his head. Pulling the skin into your mouth, you suck hard. You know the shock the discomfort will send across his body, pain that quickly morphs into pleasure and makes his cock twitch inside you.

“Jesus Christ.” Jimin reaches up to brush his bangs away from his eyes. Sweat makes the hair remain in place, pushed up, making him look as wrecked as he sounds. His cheeks are bright red now, and the color bleeds down his neck, where you’re sure his chest is bright red, too.

Fuck, why didn’t you take off his shirt? It feels like a quick and dirty fuck, although you’re not sure you want it to be. You’re unsure what you want this to be or mean. Or how you want it to feel.

All you know is that you feel like you’ll come at the sight of Jimin’s toned stomach and chest when you pull the hem of his shirt up to bunch it right above his nipples.

Holding onto the fabric gives you more leverage to pick up your pace. It’s needed because Jimin is a puddle beneath you. His arms are tossed to his slides like they’re made out of rubber, flopped onto the couch cushions. He can barely lift his hips. He only makes a few weak attempts to thrust into you before he’s whining again, head lolled to the side with furrowed eyebrows. He looks so fucked out.

“Please, ahh, fuck, please,” Jimin begs, though you’re not sure for what.

“Wanna come, pretty boy?” You squeeze his t-shirt harder and yank it slightly, just enough to pull Jimin’s back a few inches from the couch. “You’re gonna have to work harder. I already gave you so much.”

Jimin’s eyes roll in pleasure when you clench around him, little “oh’s” and “ah’s” punched out of him. “Okay, yes, yes, fuck, yes, I’ll be soooo—”

You bring his hands back to your waist as he babbles. The contact must give him a bit of clarity because he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and begins to thrust into you hard.

“I’ll. Be. So. Fucking. Good.” Every word is punctuated by a mind-shattering thrust as Jimin pulls you down onto his cock.

If you were on the edge before, you’re falling by the time he picks up the pace and thrusts into you even harder. The buildup was long and hot, yet your orgasm hits you so hard it might as well have been a surprise.

You curl into yourself and press your face into the crook of Jimin’s neck while he continues his unforgiving rhythm until he comes with a choked-out moan of your name.

The silence should be uncomfortable. How awkward and irrational was it to simply… tell Jimin that you wanted to fuck? And for Jimin to go along with it? Casual hookups aren’t really your thing. Pretty Boy Jimin seems to be the exception for everything, though.

Heavy breathing fills the silence as the two of you try to calm down, your chests rising and falling in tandem. It’s comforting to lean all your weight on Jimin, despite how his bunched-up t-shirt presses uncomfortably into your chest. Even the feeling of his cock softening inside of you doesn’t bother you any.

At some point, Jimin had placed the blunt in the ashtray on the coffee table. It's shocking that he had the mind to do so; you would have accidentally burned a hole into his comfy, expensive-looking couch. It's a good thing you had the mind to use a condom. Imagine burn marks and cum stains. Sheesh.

The kiss Jimin presses to your temple when he turns his head feels way more domestic than you deserve. You smile, teeth pressed against his skin, despite yourself. You can blame the giddiness you feel on the weed, and not whatever Pretty Boy Jimin has done to trigger warmth inside your chest.

“I think I gave you more than the tip…”

With narrowed eyes, you lift your head from Jimin’s neck to look him square in the face so quickly that you’re worried you might pull a muscle in your neck. “You’re not fucking funny.”

Jimin lets his head fall back to laugh hard enough that his eyes squeeze shut. It’s so endearing that you overlook such a bad joke. Pretty Boy Jimin seems to get away with a lot. You don’t mind it as much as you act like you do.

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

#jimin x reader #bts fanfic #bts x reader #jimin fanfic #jimin smut #bts smut #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #blunt rotation #420

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twst-random · 2 years

Text

Ace is definitely that one friend that defends his friends when they’re being made fun of

—

“Epel, are these the guys?” Ace asked

“Ace— It’s fine really, you don’t have to do anything-“ Epel tried

“Nono, I just want to talk to them 😇” Ace innocently said

Epel knowing that innocent tone tried to stop Ace

“ACE NO—“

Epel couldn’t do anything to stop Ace

—

“Uhh.. what’s happening here??” Deuce asked confused on why Ace was yelling at 3 second years

“Apparently Epel got insulted by those guys and now Ace is going off on them” Jack replied while eating popcorn

“Oh okay”

“WAIT WHAT?? DO YOU NOT REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED WHEN ACE LAST DID THIS??” Deuce yelled

“Yeah, but they deserve it tbh” Answered Jack

“Oh? What’s happening and why is Ace yelling at those 3?” Vil suddenly approached as he happened to walk by

Deuce yelped as he heard the pretty mans voice

“Oh uh- uhm.. mm…—“ Deuce tried replying but got interrupted by Aces shouting

“YOU DO NOT MAKE FUN OF EPEL YOU NASTY MUSTY DUSTY SMELLY DIRTY CLOWN ASS—“

“Hmm.. all because of my sweet potato? Interesting..” Vil mumbled

They then immediately switched their attention to Ace violating the 3 second years

“ALL OF YOU LOOK LIKE YOU HAVE A PART TIME JOB AT A CARNIVAL, YOUR DADS PROBABLY NEVER RETURNED FROM GETTING THE MILK, AND ALL OF YOU HAVE NO BITCHES.”

One of the second years was about to open their mouth to defend themselves but quickly got silenced by Ace

“NUH-UH, YOU DONT GET TO SPEAK. Oh you… you were the one who told Epel he’s girl and will never be a boy.😐”

Epel looked down when Ace said that. Some people would make fun of him for being trans and pick on him for that reason

“Since you can’t shut your transphobic mouth i’ll fucking super glue it. If i hear your mouth ONE MORE FUCKING TIME I WILL LITERALLY PUNCH YOU.” Ace angrily said

“Well my bad I wanted to point out that shes a girl pretending to be a boy!” One of the second year yelled

Ace got real mad after hearing that.

“shut yo skin tone chicken bone google chrome no home flip phone disowned ice cream cone garden gnome extra chromosome metronome dimmadome genome full blown monochrome student loan indiana Jones overgrown flintstone x and y hormone friend zone sylvester stallone sierra lain autozone professionally men silver patrone suck my ding dong head ass pubg fortnite flip phone remote control dreilly auto parts silver bronze ash amiibo uv light pen sushi ramen harrison ford gamer bitch ass virgin lamp thermometor lean mean string bean charlie sheen limousine canteen trampoline serpentine antihistamine wolverine submarine unclean nectarine broken gene halloween defective spleen smokescreen lames dean putting green tiny peen anti vaccine aquamarine eugene extra green nicotine vamline jellybean magazine protein lightnings mcqueen vending machine wharchu mean Ocean Man by Ween head ass with hisuglybass snag a toothass bitch fucking rat ass bitch breath smell like fucking metal and toxic gas fuckign uglybass hoe bitch get yp and make tour own sandwich im toed of this bitch looking like a fucking lob chopper with hs ugly ass you fucking ugly ass coco nut ass built bitch you fucking iphone 11 built like ass hoe built like a stuffed fucking purse fat ass bitch looking like a white little boys fucking hairline fucking annoying ass bitch, looking like that bitch Rom ratatouille ugly ass bitch you fucking no for nothing ass bitch smelling like fucking acid dirty ass bullet bag ass hoe built like my none existent ass bitch BUILT LIKE A WHOLE MCDONALDS MENU BOARD IN THE DRIVE THRU CUBE ASS BITCH UR BUILT LIKE AN !PHONE 11 CRACKED BITCH ASS BROKEN PHONE ASS BITCH LOOKIN ASS BITCH LOOK LIKE THAT MONA LISA ASS BITCH FROM RATA-RC/UWE BITCH LOOKING LIKE A MONA LISA GONE WRONG U LOOK LIKE KIRA WHEN HE GOT RAN OVER STUPID BITCH ASS LOOKIN LIKE ASS OF UP BEFORE I WILL PERSONALLY SEND MY FUCKING FISTS TO YOUR FACE. And i swear to FUCKING god why the fuck is your bubble gum dum dum belt buckle banana truphle Huned Knuckle knuckle Jones underground flint stone x and y friend zoned Sylvester Stallone Sierra Leone auto zone professionally seen silver Patrons stone cheek bone alone cyclone homegrown jawbone postpone unknown megaphone un grown hydrozone moricone muscle tone safety stone microphone progesterone mountain anemone bone grown allophone cyclone ankle bone leave me alone tik tok knock knock 12 O'Clock Plug walk Millie walk night hawk peacock moon walk engine block interlock penny stalk after talk alarm clock interspawk sour dock down the block poison hemlock jay walk chalk walk hawk squawk electrical shock metamorphic rock sedimentary rock my glock has a lock lack sack six pack lack around the track pack the snack in a crack Kodak black backpack feedback attack a kodiak asma attack in my back data track maniac telephone rack in my stack bushwhack dentist plaque bumper track heart attack hack tac quack quack flack pack in rack tippy tap slap the baseball cap frap trap crap nap gap zap trap lap whack back lap tap handicap weather map hair air sac track comeback halfback knickknack bounce back hatchback look back extra tax macaque pack back unstuck clack lunch snack or treat smell rycovenantmustdie feet tweet tweet on the street so fucking annoying. 😐😐” Ace finished his 5 page 20 paragraph per page, and he said that in ONE breath gawh lord lordy

—

“Ace I understand that you wanted to defend your friends, but did you really have to say that?” Riddle scolded his favorite dorm mate

“They had it coming smh”

I am literally cryingI WROTE THIS AT 3:43am and i have school RUHGAHHHJAJAJ

THIS FANFIC FEELS AND LOOKS SO ASS

#twisted wonderland #ace trappola #deuce spade #jack howl #vil schoenheit #epel felmier

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privitivium · 15 days

Text

,,, vile outcast mmfph...

finding the cute, tiny introvert* to be as sick n depraved as you are!!

sub!perverted!yandere x dom!tall/muscular!playboy?reader

ㅡnsfw, toxic reader - dubcon/flashing genitals, feminization, mentions of boy pussy and the nickname babygirl LOL !

he wasn't stalking you. he just happened to be near your table and overhear you is all-!!

h,, he wasn't following you around,,, he wasnt trying to hear what sick and twisted shit you rave about with your friendsㅡnot at all... n-not at all taking notes to jack off to later...

ㅡ"dudeㅡi need loner pussy. i just know it grips, bro..." you bemoaned to your equally bulky idiot friendㅡunaware that one of your... smaller acquaintance scrawling furiously in a notebook and tugging his hoodie over himself... just his luck... you were looking for a loner to stick your dick into? have you tried looking right in front of you ?!!!

he was perfect, wasn't he? you had to think so... tiny, alienated - easy to take advantage of... staring up at you with big watery eyes, looking like the most pathetic thing you've ever seen,,,

getting all fidgety as you were looking him up and down... right off the bat you knew this little freak trying to join your conversation was probably desperately craving some human contact with a hot jock like yourself. you knew you bumping into him probably made him fucking wet. what a loser...

then, taking pity on him and letting him join you just to scoreㅡhe is a loner, afterall - needs friends and all that. do you ever feel guilty? not at all!!! why should you? there was nothing to feel bad about after laying with cute people! if anything, it gives you even more energy to find the next cutie to stick your dick into!!!

and,,, gosh, he really is cute... so tiny. dwarfing him with your hulking height and thick build,,,, so unaware of how much of a disgusting violent pervert he really is. inviting him out more often... but still, not making the effort of getting to know him. you didn't need to know anything else about him besides what his pussy felt like fluttering around your cock. which was - soon?

ㅡit was unintentional at first. accidentally making him dependent on you?? after hanging out so many times - not making any effort to befriend him; making him increasingly eager to please you...

in your mind, he isn't as much of a loner anymore. that sucks... you didn't even get to feel the grip of that loner pussy you were after... too preoccupied with thinking about how fucking weird he is clinging onto you. lame.

your poor little guy... fiending for attention. willing to do positively anything to have you show interest in himㅡwith him having the sick idea of surprising you by flashing you,,, poor little lover who's so frustrated that you haven't gotten the hint that he so badly fucking aches for you,,,.

he's still a loner. he feels lonely in your presence,,,.. but still, he's hanging out with you in your room. a-all part of his plan... you weren't trying to make friends with him as he had wanted originally...

abruptly leaving to the bathroom with no indication, leaving himㅡhuffing your pillow. you really should've gotten to know him before hand - you would've found out that you share so many similar interests... little loner bolting upright as your door clicks...

ㅡ"what are you doing?" he squirms in place - standing in the middle of your room, looking down and fiddling with his long sleeves - shamefully avoiding eye-contact-? reaching down and gently tugging,,, before lifting the hem of his huge hoodie upward-!

are you grossed out? are you ,,, willing? he's unsure as you were spluttering, trying to catch your breathㅡ"w-what the fuck?" as your eyes willfully rake over his half-hard drooping cock and thigh highsㅡgood god, was he not wearing anything underneath this entire timeㅡ?!?!+??+ this wasn't something you were gonna fucking let go - obviously! what an idiot you were - failing to recognize how needy this little thing is!

immediately,,, primal instincts taking over your monkey brainㅡtaking advantage of this stupid fucking slut giving himself to you ??? telling him how fucking gross he is - exaggerating and making him cry !! touching him - throwing him around, manhandling him with the soft question of "please-?" leaving his pouty, glossy lips ... the disgusting thought of you not even washing your hands flashes in his mind and he bucks his hips into yours, his bare cock grinding against your clothed bulgeㅡnearly cumming right then nd there,,,!!!

"oh, babygirl..." you frown, pouting as you flick his weeping cockhead, uncaring as he flinches and mewls as if he were about to start sobbing,,, go on...

"that's fucking nasty..." you were laughing? you were laughing at himㅡand he couldn't feel more alive,,, his cock aching and fully erected and subjected to your torment like he's full on dreamed of...!!!

"ㅡ never had a whore so eager..." sounding bashful as you flip him over and glide your hand down his bare ass - loner mewling and shifting onto his knees just to present himselfㅡexcited that you weren't disgusted by him,,, talking so casually with him as though you weren't proding his winking, puckered hole with your fingertipsㅡ"loners always end up surprising me, haha." - always? a-always? there's been another 'loner' before him? h-has there?

nd... to feel your saliva coated thick fingers - knuckle-deep inside his taint, pumping into him was otherwordly!! y-your warmth, the way you subtly curl before he feels empty... blood?

he couldn't comprehend your cockhead pushing passed his fingerfucked ringㅡeyes damn near rolling back as you slid into him - after halfassedly jerking your cock with lubricant,,,... "ss-h... fuck. this is the shit i've been yearning for, man... fucking- ah, boypussy, haha... such a sweet little cunt y'got on you, little man." rambling as you keep him hostage, pressed against your bed - feeling breathless. prone boning, if it weren't for his ass up...

ㅡ is it-?? is it really? sh-shit-!! he's sorry he came so quicklyㅡh-he got your sheets all dirty... b-but that doesn't matter right now,,,, right,,? j-just focus on the feeling of his hole convulsing, trying hard to get used to your thick cock,,, just as he's focusing on the hypnotizing sting of pain of being broken into..,,,,!!!!

hmmm... need more of lil loner bf trying to be taken advatange of...

#x male reader #x top male reader #x dom male reader #male reader #top male reader #dom male reader #sub male yandere #bottom male character #// amab character #// amab reader #i didnt like the original version of this.... iit was too long..................#also realize this would go so fucking hard with dombot yandere nd subtop reader i'll do something w this.

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taechaos · 3 years

Text

Your Boy, No?

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: You can't stand seeing Jungkook with another girl, so you give him a piece of your mind in a stranger's bedroom by becoming his outlet of sexual frustration.

warnings: losing virginity, riding, degradation

a/n: jungkook's character is not exactly submissive, so i added my own twists to this request. i hope you don't mind @madygswich c:

word count: 2.5k

You can't stop pouting. Holding back tears when seeing a woman perched up on Jungkook's lap while they make out has proven to be difficult, but you're trying. It hurts your heart; hell, you're aching everywhere. It doesn't take a genius to know he's doing it to get a reaction out of you when his eyes are throwing daggers at you with his tongue down another girl's throat.

Following Jungkook around like a lost puppy isn't ideal, especially at a frat party. He never gives you the time of the day if it's not out of menace, but you aren't willing to give up on him. It's just not possible when you are so in love with him, and so fucking jealous.

More than Jungkook, you're mad at the girl. You want to rip her heart out, make her suffer for ever touching the love of your life. You're becoming irrational, mentally cussing her out for being a whore while you stop yourself from breaking down in a house filled with horny young adults. You don't know a single person here, and you have to deal with your pent up emotions all by yourself.

You choke out a sob when Jungkook starts kneading the girl's ass shamelessly with her skirt hiked up to her back. They're being so inappropriate in the kitchen of a stranger's house, while you can't even take a sip from your spiked drink in the bustling living room. You abruptly stand up and throw away your plastic cup when Jungkook's hand disappears elsewhere, and you have an idea of what he's about to do. You march over to him, looking absolutely tiny next to the overbearing college students and you don't notice Jungkook's sinister smile as he watches you fume.

"Let go," you sound hoarse, and not at all intimidating when you push the girl off of his lap. She stumbles at the force, but you pay no mind to her confusion as you pull Jungkook up by his arm to drag him away. You think it's the anger and adrenaline giving you so much strength, but it's Jungkook amusing himself by allowing you to take him upstairs.

"This isn't a therapy session, little girl," he yells over the music, "I didn't come here to listen to you cry."

You huff and let a single tear slip before harshly wiping it away. When you reach the hallway, you enter the first bedroom you find. It's occupied by a foreplaying couple, but you're driven as you hiss, "Out!"

They leave at your demand, and you're confusing a lot of people tonight. Jungkook is surprised by your sudden aggression, but he doesn't stop with his remarks, "the chihuahua's gone mad."

"Shut up, Jungkook!" you whirl around angrily to face him. "How could you do that to me?!"

He quirks a brow. "Do what to you? I'm sorry, am I the one who forcefully brought you here? Am I tripping or are you?"

You push at his chest, "you're a fucking whore! Tonguing a girl in front of everyone, in front of me?"

His shoulders shake in silent laughter and you cross your arms when he starts cackling loudly. The music is drowned out and muffled behind the door, but it's nothing compared to how hysterically Jungkook is laughing.

"What's so funny?" you ask lamely. He throws his head back as he clutches his stomach, and you're starting to get annoyed. You push him on the bed, but he's still laughing. "Quit it already," your voice wavers, but you don't back down as you smack his chest. You place your knees on both sides of his hips to limit his movement and cover his mouth to shut him up.

His crescent eyes turn intense instantly as he glares at you under his hooded lids. He exerts only a tiny bit of his energy into pushing your hand away and you weakly collapse on him. It's foul play to compete with his muscles, and you realize he can snap you in half if he wanted to regardless of your rush of adrenaline.

You sit back up as he lowly speaks, "The fuck's it to you? I wanted to fuck her, and I was going to until you stepped in as if you're my girlfriend. Tell me why I shouldn't go back to her right now." He clasps his hands under his head, making himself comfortable with your weight pressing against his crotch.

"You know why," you huff with a frown, and you look so cute in the dim lighting with your baggy knitted sweater bunching up on the sleeves, sitting on his bulge with so much innocence in your expression. He's smitten, but it doesn't show in his cold stare. "I'm your girl, and I won't tolerate you messing around with other women. It's slutty!" You slightly bounce for emphasis, but your knee-length skirt hides your actions. Jungkook feels it with you, and his eyes trail down to your lower region.

"My girl?" he parrots with a raised brow. He gazes back into your eyes. "You do my homework."

"I don't care. I love you," you plead pathetically, "please say you love me back."

"Wasn't I a whore just a second ago?"

"You were! Apologize to me," you harshly yank his head back by his hair. He doesn't react in the slightest, so you softly add, "please."

"Oh little girl," he sighs, "are you really trying to dominate me right now?"

"I am dominating you. Promise me you won't kiss another girl like that again. I won't forgive you a second time."

"Yeah? What's my loss?"

"Well, you're lazy in school," you bluntly state, "and no one loves you like I do. No one would try to cater to you like I do. I'd do anything for you, Kookie." You tug down your skirt to take it off and plop back down on him before saying, "Including sex. You can only use me for your sexual needs."

He's enamored by your words, but he doesn't dare share it with you. Instead, he thrusts upwards and you yelp when you jump. "Go on then," he says nonchalantly. "Show me how much of a slut you are."

"U-Um, okay," you stutter and start unzipping his black denim jeans. You've seen a lot of porn videos to make sure you were prepared for the next step with Jungkook, but you have no experience with penetration.

And he realizes that rather quickly when you're so meek with your actions. With a groan, he asks, "You're not a fucking virgin, are you?"

"I've been saving it for the right guy," you answer with offence. This is a special occasion, and you want him to take it as seriously as you do. But it's definitely not a good idea to be snarky with him when you can barely remember the steps for safe sex. "Do you have a condom?"

"It's in my pocket," he grumbles and points at his front without taking it out himself. You're excited and nervous as you tear the wrapper and take out the preservative. You have no idea how to put it on, but you're topping so you clumsily push down his briefs. Jungkook is surprisingly throbbing under you, and you blush at the sight of his erection.

He stops himself from teasing you and saying that the girl from earlier gave him this boner, but he doesn't want to be cruel yet. It's your first time, and truthfully, he jacks off to thought of you too often anyway. He can handle being somewhat nice by staying quiet, but that doesn't mean he would teach you how to put on a condom.

You slip it on with little struggle, and don't waste any time in positioning his cock in your entrance. Before he can stop you, you sink down on his length with a painful moan. He wants to tell you that losing your virginity in this position is the most painful, but instead he groans, "Holy shit, how are you so fucking tight?"

It hurts so fucking bad. Your tear ducts are like clockwork as they water instantly, but you lower yourself down to the hilt anyway. You're quite literally sitting on his cock as you try to catch your breath because God, you're in so much pain.

"Fuck, are you okay?" he asks, but he's more worried about controlling himself from fucking into you before you can adjust. It's difficult, but he's trying.

"Jungkook," you whimper quietly with your eyes screwed shut, "it hurts."

"You're so fucking dumb for doing this, but you feel so fucking good," he pants as he holds your hips.

"Thank you," you muster out in a breath. A few seconds pass until the pain starts to numb, and you move against him very slowly. Your walls are stinging, but it feels like Heaven for Jungkook who you clench down on.

"Go up and down," he instructs with a bit lip. He tries to move your hips, but you're resisting in fear of another shock of pain. "Come on!"

"Can you wait?" you hiss through clenched teeth.

He's trying to rile you up when he says, "Sana wouldn't take this fucking long."

And it works, because you bounce once. "Don't say her name!"

He groans at your tightness, and he can't believe how wet you are. You're dripping on him, and he curses himself for holding back because of your hopeless romance. He can't entertain your conservative way of going on about this any longer, so he continues, "She would have made me cum by now, but this prissy princess can't even get a move on."

It's almost pathetic how one push from Jungkook makes you start moving, and it feels less uncomfortable to hop up and down against his pelvis. The filthy sound of slapping skin mixing with the generic radio music is making you feel so slutty because it's so stereotypical, but when Jungkook moans, it brings heat all over your body. You take your sweater off when sweat begins to cumulate on your temples, and he commands, "Take off your bra too."

He's thrusting into you as you unclasp the black material, freeing your breasts as he finds his new eyecandies. You are so pretty, your nipples are so hard, and your cunt sucks him in so perfectly. It almost upsets him when he realizes how much pleasure he's deprived himself of; the amount only you seem to be able to provide, because it's beyond physical intimacy.

"Good girl," he exhales and gently slams into you with his hands fondling your tits. You smile coyly through your tears, and he asks, "Does it still hurt?"

You contemplate for a second, because you don't feel the best yet, but you don't want to disappoint Jungkook either. "I-It doesn't," you lie.

Jungkook mentally rolls his eyes; he really wants to believe you so he can chase his high, but he sees right through you. He slaps your tit without mercy and chastises you, "don't lie. I thought this was your little moment of control."

"I'm sorry," you pout as you slowly ride him.

"Another lie," he slaps your other tit more harshly and you yelp.

"I'm not lying!" you plead and hasten your pace, desperate to sell your lie. It's working, because you're starting to feel a knot in your stomach the more you adjust.

He moans with you, and you lose yourself when he stills your hips and begins to fuck you himself. It's rough, loud, and the pain is your pleasure. His balls slap against your skin as he easily slides in and out of you with the help of your arousal. Your love dawns on him when you're so turned on for him without any foreplay, and he's on cloud nine because nothing can compare to being inside you.

The setting is so unlike you, fucking in someone's bedroom with a bunch of people behind the unlocked door who can barge in at any given moment, but he finds it so sexy. You only care about being with him, and you really do look like his slut now.

His hands start holding onto your ass, kneading it until it turns red with his fingerprints, and he demands you to kiss him. You're out of it, your ears are ringing and you can only moan out his name, but you can't bear to ignore him. Your lips fall on his, and the kiss is sloppy with his tongue all over your mouth. You can't keep up, but your chest swells with pride when you realize how needy he is for you. He goes as far as to spit in your mouth, and you swallow it without hesitation.

"You want me to play with your clit?" he murmurs against your lips, and his voice sounds so airy and melodic to your ears. "Hm? Want me to make you feel good, little slut?"

You whine without a clear response because his lips feel so soft and wet, and that's the only thing you can focus on. All you want to do is kiss him and he doesn't stop you from doing so, but you're even more overwhelmed when he starts touching you while penetrating you. "No," you whimper, "I'll cum."

"A slut can take it," he grunts and rubs your clit faster, and you come undone all too soon. You moan loudly as you tremble, shaking as he rides out your high with a pinch to your clit. You're numb when you collapse on top of him, but he's relentless with his thrusts. He's using your body as you intended, and he's vocal with his pleasure and teasing climax. It's remarkable how he holds you up when you've gone limp and still fucks you just as hard.

You want to record his voice when he starts to whine pathetically, but you have no energy left within. He's panting in your ear, and it's not long before his hips fall on the mattress with a sigh. He's surprised by how powerful his orgasm was, as he fills the condom with his release instantly. His cock is still nestled inside you as both of you recover from your climax.

"Get off," he taps your thigh, and he pushes you off when you don't obey immediately. Your spell has worn off as he starts to dress himself. "I'm going back to the dorms." You listen to him with your mind in a haze. "Unless you want to get raped on your way without me, get the fuck up now."

"Can you carry me please?"

He shrugs and swings your arm over his shoulder, picking up your body with ease. He collects your clothes in his hand, but doesn't hand them to you as he steps out of the room.

"W-Wait, Jungkook, I'm naked-"

"You're my girl, no? Be a good slut and shut the fuck up."

Dangling off his shoulder with your bare tits pressed against his back, you close your eyes and drift off on the way to campus.

Boyfriends typically drop their girlfriends off anyway, right?

#bts scenarios #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts imagines #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook smut #jjk smut #jungkook imagines

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ah-ga-seven · 3 years

Text

Till’ The End Of Summer - Chapter 12

>> series masterlist <<

Pairing: Choi Yeonjun x Reader

In a Nutshell: College!AU, Rich Kids, Friends to Lovers, Fuckboy athlete Yeonjun, Overprotective Best friend Soobin, contains all of TXT and other Idol cameos, Omnipresent perspective.

Synopsis: You and Yeonjun are caught up in a cat and mouse game because of unspoken feelings and endless pining for each others’ attention. With the summer break approaching and lots of college parties, will you finally get a chance to explore your feelings for each other; even though the world and Yeonjun’s reputation makes things complicated?

Word count: 8K

Idol Cameos: ATEEZ Wooyoung, NCT Johnny, ITZY Ryujin & Yeji.

Genre: Angst, Fluff.

Warnings: Mentions of drug use and alcohol consumption.

A full week of radio silence from your end had passed. No matter how many times Yeonjun called or texted, begging you to listen to him; you didn’t give in. In fact, you blocked his number, his Instagram…and his Snapchat.

Soobin had also been avoiding Yeonjun, though they lived together they hadn’t seen each other and Soobin made it no secret that he was actively avoiding any type of contact with Yeonjun, even though Yeonjun had tried to reach out several times.

“Yeonjun…don’t you think you’ve had enough.” Wooyoung says snatching the liquor bottle from a highly intoxicated Yeonjun.

He scoffed, snatching back the bottle of Jack from Wooyoung's grip, taking another sip. The burn of the liquid was nothing compared to the lingering burn of his broken heart, so he didn’t hold back.

“Don’t you think you should mind your own fucking business,” he counters unnecessarily rude as he slouches on Wooyoung’s couch.

Wooyoung rolls his eyes at his friend and he checks his phone, scrolling through his socials to distract himself from the feeling of wanting to punch Yeonjun in the face.

Wooyoung was giving Yeonjun the benefit of the doubt given the vaguely explained circumstances and was acting as his babysitter; even though it was usually the other way around in their friendship.

He was a few swipes in before his orbs landed on the Instagram story of Johnny Suh. His eyes enlarged when he saw you at his party, sitting comfortably on the couch with your legs draped over Johnny’s, looking as happy as ever. Wooyoung looked at Yeonjun through hooded lids as he followed Yeonjun's gaze into nothingness while he took another sip from the bottle.

“Oh…so you don’t want me to tell you where y/n is right now? Or more importantly…who she’s with.”

“What are you on about,” Yeonjun speaks sighing as he rubs his forehead in agony.

“See for yourself.” Wooyoung replies panning the phone to Yeonjun’s line of sight as he replays the video.

Yeonjun’s eyes popped out of his skull as he observed you cozying up to that motherfucker. He snatched the phone from Wooyoung, going back and forth in his stories to try and catch another glimpse of you.

“Oh hell no,” he huffed as he got up from the couch. “I’m going.”

“Where?”

“To Johnny’s, where the fuck else.”

‘Not alone you’re not.” Wooyoung says grabbing his car keys.

When Johnny invited you to one of his iconic parties, you didn’t have to think twice. The best way of getting over Yeonjun was by getting under someone else and that was exactly what you planned to do when you first got here….but god how things took a turn.

You drank…and drank…and drank…and then you might have just accidentally joined the stoners in the garden.

You were drunk, high and high again, and nothing was registering to you anymore other than the fact that you had the munchies, even though you wanted to throw up.

“First time?” Ryujin chuckled as she wrapped her blanket around you to share her warmth.

She took the blunt from you and patted your head in comfort as she passed it to some guy named Jungwoo. You didn’t know how you got so close to her in such a short amount of time, but not having Mia around to cling to made you socialize with people you normally wouldn’t hang with.

“No, but I’ve…never combined the two.”

“Yeah, rule number one, don’t do that unless you’re a veteran,” she states.

“I need to lie down otherwise I’ll hurl," you whine, and you weren't even kidding.

“Oh, shit y/n, let’s go somewhere quiet then, quick.” Ryujin got up and took your hand, leading you to the stairs as quickly as she could in hopes you would stay conscious throughout. Your legs were on automatic pilot, but you also knew it wasn’t going to take long before they would give out on you.

Johnny saw how Ryujin basically dragged you up the stairs and frowned, leaving in the middle of a heated Uno game to check on you. He sprinted up the stairs and hooked his arm around your waist as he put your arm around his neck for support, helping you up the remaining steps.

“Are we okay here?” he asked looking from you to Ryujin. “Uh, she mixed weed with alcohol and is having a bad reaction.” Ryujin snickered.

You couldn’t do anything other than look up at Johnny with googly eyes, giggling at him. Your cute action made him laugh in response and he leads both you and Ryujin to his bedroom without a word.

“She can sleep it off here.” Johnny says as he opens the door to his room, gently placing you on the bed.

Your limbs hit the off switch as your body made contact with the bed. Everything was spinning and all you could do was giggle to yourself, which made Johnny and Ryujin laugh at your antics once again.

Ryujin pulled the covers over you before she sat down on the foot end of Johnny’s bed, she watched him stare at you and sighed.

“Thanks for letting her stay here.”

“Mi casa is Suh casa” Johnny says giving Ryujin and yourself a wink and you scoff. “You didn’t just make that lame joke,” you judge him even in your state and he chuckled, crouching down before you to pet your head.

“How about you sleep off your attitude,” he says with a smirk, and you just stick your tongue out as you snuggle your cheek into the pillow; closing your eyes to doze off.

In the meantime, Yeonjun and Wooyoung had found their way to Johnny’s home. Yeonjun had been ringing the doorbell for the past minute and was slowly losing his sanity while Wooyoung waited patiently beside him.

“Just call someone you know in there. They probably can’t hear because of the music.” Wooyoung tries to explain, but Yeonjun didn’t listen and switched from ringing the doorbell to knocking on the door.

Wooyoung groaned at his stubbornness and just like that the door opened with a dramatic swing, and in the door opening was no one other than Hwang Yeji.

“I thought they came to collect the trash at noon,” she says deadpanning Yeonjun in the eye as soon as her gaze landed on him.

Yeonjun groaned in annoyance and held on to Wooyoung for life support. “Very fucking funny Yeji, your humor is just as dry as your p-…you can finish that sentence yourself. Would you tell me where my girlfriend is?”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened at his mean comment and covered Yeonjun’s mouth with his hand. “He had a lot to drink,” Wooyoung says as Yeonjun takes Woo’s hand from his mouth aggressively.

Yeji ignored Wooyoung’s attempt to salvage the damage and averted her attention back to Yeonjun.

“Girlfriend? Do you mean y/n? The fact that she decided to date you is sad.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’d be salty too if I were you. You don’t have to act as if you weren’t screaming my name a few months ago.”

“Ok, Yeonjun. Seriously, shut up.” Wooyoung pushes Yeonjun past Yeji through the door opening before Yeji would decide to swing at him, pulling him aside below the staircase.

“Dude what the fuck.” Wooyoung says under his breath. Yeonjun just shrugged, grabbing the first freshmen that passed by them by their collar, pulling the poor boy closer so he could ask him about your whereabouts.

“Hey, dwarf. Have you seen a girl with (a description of your physical appearance.) probably shitfaced drunk, possibly accompanied by Johnny Suh.”

The kid was baked as fuck, his eyes were red and hanging low. He just chuckled looking back and forth from Yeonjun to Wooyoung “Dude there was a girl just like that flashing her titties on the patio a minute ago. Maybe the show is still going man, hurry.”

“What now!?” Yeonjun let go of the younger boy and he just waddled off as if nothing happened, leaving him in a more distressed state than ever.

You wouldn’t do that? Right? “That can’t be y/n,” Wooyoung says scratching the back of his head. “Let’s just ask around some more.”

And so they did. They ended up in the garden where the smell of pot filled their nostrils after they skimmed every room on the ground floor, but it was to no avail. They decided to go up the stairs, something Yeonjun wished he didn’t have to do because if you were upstairs that could mean one of two not so great things.

They searched through the halls first and Wooyoung's eyes land on Johnny closing the door behind him in a room down the hall. Wooyoung grabbed Yeonjun by the shoulder, motioning him to look at what he was seeing.

When Yeonjun’s eyes landed on Johnny it took about 0,003 seconds for him to take long strides into his direction. Wooyoung did his best to keep up with Mr long legs, so he had to jog after Yeonjun to keep up as he felt the hairs in his neck rise in anticipation of the inevitable confrontation between two alpha males.

“Hey man, have you seen my girlfriend?” Yeonjun says as he approaches the senior.

“And who might that be?” Johnny says turning around. He wasn’t even a wee-bit surprised that Yeonjun showed up here. He was always wherever you were. Luckily for Johnny he wasn’t interested in having sex with you anymore. The two of you really hit it off as friends, and he didn’t wanna ruin it, but god…Yeonjun did get under his skin a little too much for his liking.

“Don’t act dumb, where’s y/n.”

Johnny sucks his teeth in annoyance and decided to taunt Yeonjun for challenging him like that. “She’s in my bed,” Johnny says as his lips curl up into a smile and before he knew it Yeonjun grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

“Let go.” Johnny threatens through his teeth, towering over Yeonjun with the few inches of height he had over Yeonjun, but he didn’t budge.

Wooyoung inhales sharply, him being an average of 10 centimeters shorter than the both of them didn’t help with intervening. So he bent his knees to wiggle between them from below, pulling them away from each other.

“Yeonjun’s drunk. Don’t mind him” Wooyoung chuckled nervously, fixing Johnny’s shirt.

Yeonjun was seething at this point. “If you would’ve just let me explain first…god you really need to work on your temper. y/n deserves better than a hothead like you.”

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” Yeonjun replies under his breath as he points his finger in Johnny’s face.

Johnny rolled his eyes in response, stepping aside.

“She’s in there with Ryujin. She got drunk and smoked weed she’s not having the best reaction so she’s asleep right now. She’s fine. Go home.”

“I’m not going anywhere without her.” Yeonjun huffs.

“Well, then you can sleep on the floor cause you’re not taking her anywhere either.” Johnny took a step closer to Yeonjun again with Wooyoung still between them and at this point, Wooyoung didn’t know what else to do other than barge into Johnny’s room to cut the tension

Wooyoung had hoped that if Yeonjun saw you, his anger would subside; so he took the chance of getting punched in the face by Johnny for the greater good.

He barged through the door, startling Ryujin who was facetiming Beomgyu.

“Look she really is asleep, fully clothed. Now, can we leave dude? I think we’ve caused enough trouble.” Wooyoung says in a whisper pointing to your sleeping form.

Ryujin’s eyes widened when her eyes landed on the three men in front of her. “Is that Yeonjun hyung?” Gyu’s voice sounded from the speaker and Ryujin quickly apologized to him, ending the phone call after promising to call back later.

Yeonjun softened immediately. He really didn’t know how he would feel when he saw you, but since the last time he saw you was in your apartment that day; he froze.

He couldn’t help but think that the reason you turned to drugs and alcohol to subside the pain was because of him, and suddenly sadness and guilt wash over him once again.

Johnny watched Yeonjun like a hawk, and noticed how his icy demeanor melted at the sight of you. He wasn’t just going to let Yeonjun take you home, you would need to consent to it, even in your state.

Yeonjun crouched down before you, moving a strand of your hair out of your face, completely entranced by you. He forgot the presence of the other people in the room and caressed your cheek with his thumb lightly.

He missed you.

“Y/n…” his voice was clear; he was calling out for you but you had no clue if It was a dream or real life.

You slowly found the strength to open your eyes. You blink a couple of times before your vision went from blurry to…somewhat less blurry, and in a split second, you recognize who’s in front of you by the shape of his lips alone.

“Are you okay?” Yeonjun asked sweetly.

Wooyoung couldn’t help but be dumbfounded at Yeonjun’s sudden change of heart. The stubborn, mean, and aggressive Yeonjun was completely replaced by a soft and loving one in the blink of an eye.

"Bipolar much." he whispered, making Johnny and Ryujin chuckle in response.

Wooyoung gave Johnny a look which he just shrugged at, and Ryujin basically melted thinking that Yeonjun came over to be your knight in shining armor, but you know, she didn’t know the full story.

You forgot you were mad at him because it truly felt like you were dreaming and when Yeonjun asked you if you wanted to go home, you just nodded as you dozed off again.

Well…There’s your consent.

Reluctantly, Johnny let Yeonjun take you with him. He understood he had no place in keeping you here if you really were Yeonjun’s girlfriend, so he complied. Keeping an eye on you as Yeonjun carried you to Wooyoung's car.

“Tell her to text me when she wakes up.” Johnny says with his arms crossed, watching as Yeonjun carefully places you in the backseat.

“Yeah, no.” Yeonjun says as he fastens your seatbelt for you.

Johnny shook his head and went back inside, even though Yeonjun was the biggest dick in Johnny’s eyes; it was evident that he cared about you and that thought alone was the only reason he let Yeonjun take you with him. He knew you'd be safe, and that's all that mattered to him.

Wooyoung got into the drivers’ seat, being the only sober one of the bunch, and waited for Yeonjun to take a seat too.

The drive was rather quiet. Yeonjun kept looking back at you to check if you were okay and Wooyoung noticed as he checked his mirrors.

“You really love her don’t you.” Wooyoung asks looking at his friend.

“I do.”

“I don’t know what you did, and I’m assuming you did something.” Wooyoung says clicking his tongue before he continues. “But fix it.”

“I’m trying.” Yeonjun sighs staring out the window.

“Trying how?” Wooyoung asks checking his mirrors. He noticed a black BMW trailing closely behind them with no one other car on the streets and frowned, but decided to keep his eyes on the road ahead of him.

“I went to therapy yesterday.”

“Therapy?”

“Yeah…”

“Well…seeing you tonight you clearly need some extra sessions.”

Yeonjun’s head snapped into Wooyoung direction but when he noticed the playful look in his eyes all he could do was laugh with him.

Wooyoung checked his mirrors after he took a left to your house and noticed how the black BMW was still trailing behind him. His smile faltered and he nudged Yeonjun.

“Dude…I think we’re being followed…” Wooyoung says nodding to his rear-view mirror.

“What?” Yeonjun asks as he looks in the mirror, followed by a look over his shoulder.

“Am I the drunk one, or are you?” Yeonjun chuckles relaxing in his seat.

Wooyoung shrugged, deciding to let it go, and just as he was about to turn the corner to your apartment building, the black BMW took the opposite turn, making Wooyoung relax in his seat again.

Yeonjun kept staring at you in the reflection of the window. He didn’t know how you would react the next morning so he decided he wouldn’t stick around to find out.

After he carried you inside of your apartment, he set you down on your bed with the help of Wooyoung opening every door for him. Being in here felt different than before. Your house was messier than usual, and it wasn't like he could just crawl in bed next to you to hold you as you slept off your intoxicated state.

He changed you into clean clothes and even got rid of your false eyelashes for you. You were still asleep but you did whine a few times before he was able to tuck you in. He sighed, kissing your forehead, and wrote you a small note. Leaving it on your bedside table before he went back to the living room, seeing Wooyoung patiently wait for him so the two of them could leave.

“Thanks for waiting and putting up with me all night.” Yeonjun smiled apologetically as he held out his hand.

Wooyoung took a hold of his hand as Yeonjun helped him get up from the couch, and he snickered.

“Ah don’t mention it. We’re even now.” Wooyoung says with a wink.

“For what?” Yeonjun asks raising his eyebrow.

“For kissing her, remember.” Wooyoung says as he made his way to your front door.

“Right. Let’s never speak of that again.” Yeonjun says clinging on to Wooyoung’s shoulder as they walk out of your apartment.

“Deal.”

Your alarm went off, waking you from your hibernation at 10 AM.

That’s strange? You didn’t set an alarm clock.

You keep your eyes closed, feeling around the bed for your phone to turn the obnoxious sound off when it suddenly hit you that you were in your own bed.

Your eyes shoot open out of shock and bits and pieces from last night are starting to come back to you.

You got drunk, you got absolutely baked and then you ended up in Johnny’s bed to sleep it off but how the fuck did you get home?

You jolt upwards, feeling a pounding headache come to the surface as you look around.

Everything looks normal. You were dressed in an oversized t-shirt; your clothes were neatly folded on your dresser and even your make-up was off.

There is no way in hell you did all that by yourself…

You get up slowly, trying not to lose your balance and right at the moment you stretched your body, your gaze falls on a note on your bedside table.

Your eyes widen when you recognize the cursive handwriting and you hold your breath as you read the note.

I hope you’re feeling better,

Drink lots of water and try to eat something more nutritious than instant noodles ok?

Yeonjun.

You keep reading the words over and over again but your mind couldn’t comprehend the fact that he was here, in your apartment, and helped you change out of your party wear.

Well, fuck.

You rake your hand through your hair and sigh not knowing what to do with this information.

How did he know where you were? And why did he come to get you?

A million questions ran through your mind but you weren’t exactly ready to talk to him about it so you dial the only reliable eye witness you remember being there, Ryujin.

[Y/N, 10.04 AM]: Please fill me in on the blocks of memory missing from my brain. Why the fuck did Yeonjun take me home. I’m so lost.

[Ryujin, 10:05 AM]: Good morning to you too lmaoo

[Ryujin, 10:05 AM]: Dude, it was like a kdrama.

[Y/N, 10.05 AM]: What now????

[Ryujin, 10:06 AM]: Idk how Yeonjun figured out that you were there but he basically made a big ass scene and argued with Johnny since he wouldn’t let Yeonjun in at first but then things got so soft and cute. Like he caressed your cheek and carried you to the car. You even told him it was ok for him to take you home.

[Y/N, 10.06 AM]: I did!?

[Y/N, 10.06 AM]: Omg…wtf…I’m speechless.

[Ryujin, 10:07 AM]: Is there a problem? Aren’t you two a thing?

Well shit, what do you reply to that?

You let Ryujin’s words and Yeonjun’s actions register to you a bit before you could even think of a response to send her.

The past week has been hell. You’ve been going to class with an empty mind and soul, basically living on automatic pilot. You didn’t allow yourself to feel cause if you did, you were sure you were going to have a meltdown.

You couldn’t handle losing Yeonjun and Mia in one day, so you kind of pretended it never happened.

You blocked both of them from your socials and hung out with different people. Even though Soobin checked in on you and you on him, you hadn’t seen him.

You guess that seeing each other would spark a conversation both of you weren’t ready to have; so, you actively avoided each other.

You both needed time, and you also had different ways of dealing with your feelings.

Whereas Soobin stayed home and hung out with the guys, you went out and got drunk on schooldays.

In the past week you had done a lot of thinking. You tried to justify both Mia and Yeonjun’s actions but no matter how hard you tried; you just couldn’t see it from their point of view. Though you do realize that they didn’t have malicious intent, you were more sad than angry.

Truth is you missed them, but you didn’t know how to move past this either, especially with Yeonjun.

Last night's events changed something for you though, and you needed to talk about it with someone who knew exactly what you were going through and the only person who fit that description was Soobin.

After replying to Ryujin with a short ‘I’ll talk to you about it later” you asked Soobin to meet you in a bakery near Campus for Brunch and he agreed.

You knew you could lure him to any spot that sold bread so here you were, 1,5 hours later. Sitting at a window seat table while you waited for Soobin to arrive.

You quickly checked your appearance in the front camera of your phone. You did your best to hide the bags under your eyes with some much-needed concealer and even used eye drops to subside the swelling and lingering redness.

If Soobin found out what you did last night, he’d kill you, and that’s an understatement.

As Soobin walked into the bakery, the door made a ringing sound and you immediately looked up. He was dressed in a white t-shirt paired with his favorite denim jacket. He looked tired, the dark bags under his eyes being a dead give-away to the lack of sleep he had gotten in the past week. It made your heart ache for him and suddenly you want to kick yourself for not making an effort to see him sooner.

His eyes found yours and he gave you a sweet smile as he was glad to see you after a week of separation. You got up to hug him without a word and the two of you just stand there for a while, wrapped up in each other’s embrace. The much-needed comfort made you close your eyes as your cheek rested on his chest and he sighed, patting your hair before he gave you a kiss on your forehead while letting go of you slowly.

You both sat down and stared at each other for a few seconds. He assessed your appearance and frowned.

“Did you lose weight?” he asks a little concerned.

You shrug, not wanting to tell him about your loss of appetite. “How are you?” you ask, trying to change the subject.

“You first.”

“No, you first.” You insist this time, your eyes widening as a threat.

“Ugh fine.” He sighed, knowing that you could go at it for literal hours.

“I feel like shit. I miss Mia. I miss Yeonjun hyung, but I can’t forgive or forget about what happened.”

“Same.” You rest your elbow on the table so your hand could support your heavy head. You rubbed your forehead and bit your lip, contemplating if you should tell Soobin about what happened last night.

“I saw him last night," you confess.

“What? Where?” Soobin was surprised, to say the least. He didn’t think you’d be ready for that so soon.

“Well, technically he saw me, I didn’t see him,” you explain.

Soobin pouted to show his confusion and that’s when you start rambling. You told him everything you could recall but he stopped you midway.

“Why were you passed out?”

“Because I mixed,” you say avoiding eye contact as you sip on your iced coffee.

“Mixed what? Drinks?”

“No…I…accidentally…hypothetically…might have joined the crackheads.”

Soobin’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull and he raised his voice at you without second thought.

“You did WHAT!?”

People in the café were giving him looks and embarrassment flushed to his ears before he averted his attention back to you, speaking to you in a more hushed tone.

“Y/n what the fuck,” he whisper-screamed. “Why the fuck would you resort to drugs.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose.” You breathe. “I guess the whole situation of Yeonjun basically planning to abandon me before he returned, sparked some childhood trauma of my dad leaving for the army. It felt the same way and I never want to feel like that again so I just…got drunk and…stumbled into the garden and ended up with a blunt in my mouth before I could think about it.”

Saying it out loud was a big step, because you hadn’t gotten as far as making that connection yet, but you realize it could very much be right. You had a fear of abandonment, and Yeonjun basically confessing that he was planning to never return if it wasn’t for his housekeeper telling him that he should go back didn’t quite help with that hypothesis.

Soobin sighed, he felt bad for you but he still felt like it wasn’t a valid reason for you to turn to drugs, even if it was just weed. People with traumas are more susceptive to addiction and he didn’t want that for you, so he’d make sure you’d never go near it again.

“Just never do it again.” He says sternly, giving you his warning glare.

You make eye contact again and sigh in relief, nodding sheepishly as you chew on your straw.

“Y/n, I hope you realize that healthy relationships shouldn’t feel like what Yeonjun hyung has given you until now.”

Soobin’s words made you look up at him again. Ouch. That hurt. But he’s right.

The bad started to outweigh the good a long time ago and you knew it.

“It’s clear that he loves you, and he explained he wanted to stay away from you out of love and fear to drag you down with him but…the way he communicates. The way he thinks he resolves issues by lying about them. It’s not…it’s just not it. You can’t fix him y/n. He has to do that on his own.”

Soobin’s advice was never the type of advice that comforted you, because Soobin only told you the truth, and the truth hurt.

Because the truth is that even if you were to forgive Yeonjun for lying to you and manipulating you, how could you get through to him when he thinks his decisions are justified because they were made out of love for you?

He left you because he loved you.

He left you because you deserved better.

But he still left you while making you believe that he wouldn’t leave forever, and even though he did come back, the fact that he withheld that information from you for whatever reason he had; still broke your trust.

“I’m tired of giving him chances.”

“Then don’t give him any.”

“Yeah, that’s easier said than done Soobin. My feelings for him don’t just have an on and off switch. I love him but we’ve had a 10 years marriage worth of drama and we’ve only been seeing each other for 3 and a half months, and he was gone for most of it.”

“Yeah, that’s some shit.” Soobin says as he looks around the café to try and organize his thoughts.

His eye landed on the table next to him because he felt like he was being watched.

A man dressed in a black suit with a sharp jawline and slicked-back dark hair was typing throughout your whole conversation, but when both of you stopped talking, the man stopped typing.

He made eye contact with the middle-aged man for a split second and Soobin’s gaze stopped at the shiny silver pen in the front pocket of the man’s suit. It clearly read C.E Holdings Group.

You were staring out the window yourself, so nothing was registering to you, but when the mystery man’s phone lit up, Soobin’s eyes darted to the caller ID.

Again, with the C.E. Soobin’s blinked a couple of times and he quickly averted his attention back to you; trying not to be obvious.

C.E? Choi Enterprises? Could he be right or is he just being paranoid?

Suddenly Yeonjun’s monologue to you from that godforsaken dark day popped back into Soobin’s brain as he reminisced about what Yeonjun said to you in an attempt to make you understand why he lied to you about all of it.

“Y/n you’re not getting it…being in the know could get you hurt. If malicious people were after the company, or if my dad had enemies, I didn’t know about… I could never forgive myself if something happened to you because of me.”

“Soobin, are you okay? You look paler than usual,” you ask cocking your eyebrow at him.

Soobin broke out of his trance and nodded absentmindedly.

If you were being followed there was only one way to find out.

“Let’s get our food to go, the weather is still nice. We can eat it at the park,” he says getting up all of a sudden. He didn’t want to tell you yet because you’d freak out. So, this was the only way to get you to leave without noticing something was up.

“….Okay…..” he was acting weird, but you decided to comply with him given the circumstances. You got up, brushing past him to get your order to go.

“Weirdo,” you whisper under your breath.

Soobin’s change in attitude was odd.

The two of you walked around the park and he was super restless for some reason. He was constantly looking over his shoulder and you just about had enough.

“Let’s sit down somewhere already.” You complain and Soobin snapped out of his trance, nodding quietly before sitting down at a bench with a view over the lake.

“What is wrong with you? Is it because of Mia? Why won’t you talk to me about her? You keep avoiding the topic and preach about Yeonjun and me when you’re the one with a two-year-old relationship on the line.” You say as you hand him his croissant.

Your words might have come out a little harsh, but Soobin knew your intentions. He snapped out of his paranoia once again and looked at your concerned facial expression while he took the pastry from your hold.

You sat there and talked about everything. Soobin was able to relax a bit more given the fact that the guy from before was nowhere to be found, which made him re-think his theory of being followed.

During your talk it was clear that Soobin missed Mia, and that he regretted not communicating with her more before he broke things off with her. Despite it all, he wasn’t ready to look past the situation yet and you completely understood; because you felt the exact same way.

“She hasn’t reached out to me, and I haven’t seen her in class either," you say as you rest your head on his shoulder. Your hangover was still present, so you were getting tired, and Soobin was quick to notice.

“Maybe it’s time for me to talk to her…alone.”

“You’re ready for that?” you ask lifting your head off of his shoulder to look at him.

“I honestly just want to know if she’s okay…after all, it’s not like I stopped loving her.”

You nod understandingly. An involuntary yawn escapes your lips and you close your eyes, placing your head back on Soobin’s shoulder. You sat in the park for hours and hours on end and it was already past 5.

He looked down at you and chuckled, patting your head in comfort. “Let’s get you home.”

You were grateful for the ride home since you didn’t even have to ask for it. It’s the little things Soobin does that made you realize just how lucky you are to have him.

After all, the reason he broke things off with Mia was not so much about their issues, but about your issues with her and you knew that even though you didn’t know how, things were going to have to get back to normal with Mia and Soobin because you couldn’t stand to see him in pain like this.

Soobin pulled up to your apartment building shortly after, stopping as close to the entrance as possible.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say as you unbuckle your seatbelt. You go in for a clumsy hug and he chuckled, kissing the top of your head before you open the car door to get out.

“No prob-” he stopped mid-sentence when his eye landed on a black BMW with tinted windows that he’s never seen before. The car was parked across the lot, and it wasn't exactly blending in with the cheaper cars around. When Soobin spotted the BMW, the window rolled up and he swore he saw the same slicked-back hairdo from the man he saw before in the café.

“U ok?” you ask as you hold the car door open, assessing a rather frazzled looking Soobin.

“Hey, should I come inside with you?” He suddenly asks, his face held an expression you couldn’t quite read so you gave him a look. “Eh, no. I think I’m just gonna sleep this headache off.”

“Oh…well…if anything happens you call me ok.”

“Why would anything hap-”

“Just call me, Ok.”

You frown at his once again, super odd behavior and nod. “Ok...I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”

“Yeah, see you…” Soobin says absentmindedly. He eyed the car a little longer and it drove off, making him relax a little more in his seat.

You closed the door and walk into your apartment building and Soobin watched you as you did just in case.

He grabbed his phone, dialing the only number that made sense to him right now, and to his surprise, he picked up almost immediately.

“Yeonjun hyung are you home? We need to talk.”

“What do you mean followed?” Yeonjun asks immediately alerted by Soobin’s story.

“Do you happen to have one of those company pens around here?” Soobin says as he made his way to Yeonjun’s desk to skim the surface.

Yeonjun raised his eyebrows, getting up to retrieve the silver pen with black engraving from his drawer to hand to Soobin.

He assessed the tiny object and turned it to read the engraving. C.E Holdings Group. “Fuck, it’s the same.”

“And you LEFT her by herself!?” Yeonjun remarks as he rakes his hand through his hair in distress.

“I didn’t know for sure, I thought I was just being paranoid but when I saw the black car with those tinted windows outside of the building I freaked.”

He started pacing around his room with large eyes.

“Wait, a car?” Was it…”

“A black BMW” they both say in unison, and suddenly the air got thick.

“You’ve seen the car?”

“Yes, last night when Wooyoung and I drove y/n home, Wooyoung mentioned that he felt like we were being followed by a black BMW.”

“Oh my fucking god.” Soobin says throwing his head back in frustration.

“Why the fuck would they follow her? And who is he working for? What the fuck is going on. I knew I shouldn’t have come back, look at what’s happening.” Yeonjun was rambling, throwing all of his thoughts on the table. He sat down on his bed, burying his face in his hands as his pupils darted back and forth.

“Hyung…calm down.” Soobin tries to comfort Yeonjun by putting a hand on his shoulder but he should’ve known better.

“Don’t tell me to calm down.” Yeonjun bites back. “I could have prevented this.”

Soobin sighed, hating to admit that if he was in Yeonjun’s shoes; he would’ve done the exact same things to protect Mia. Soobin didn’t realize the scale of it all. How much shit was on the line and how different Yeonjun’s world was from theirs, but this changed everything.

Like Yeonjun once said, it was a matter of billions and people would do crazy things to get to those billions; but what did you have to do with that? Did they want to get to Yeonjun through you? Blackmail him? Kill him? Kill you?

Soobin’s mind was basically reciting every K-drama he has ever seen and he was about to combust before Yeonjun snapped him out of his thoughts.

“You have to go back,” he states looking at Soobin. “She might not be safe; we have to tell her.”

“Oh yeah, let’s just tell her she’s being shadowed by some dude, that won’t freak her out.”

“It’s better than saying nothing. I will literally sleep in front of her door if I have to Soobin. We have to find out who he’s working for, and what he wants. She’s not safe, we’re not safe.”

“What the fuck did our lives turn into.” Soobin says letting out an exasperated sigh.

Yeonjun bit the inside of his cheek nervously as he kept thinking about what he possibly could have missed when he was investigating the situation back home. Was it his mother? Was he wrong about her? Or was it some random foe in the company that he didn’t know about?

Hearing the boys laugh in the living room made him snap out of his thoughts and he looked at the door of his bedroom, realizing how many people he cared for could be in potential danger.

“The boys can’t know.” Yeonjun says. “We protect them from this. We don’t need more targets on anyone's backs. We have to keep them as far away from this shit as possible.”

Soobin nodded, agreeing with Yeonjun. “Let’s go to y/n together alright. She won’t listen to me; you know how she is.” Soobin says as he looks at Yeonjun and he nodded, rubbing his forehead in agony.

Yeonjun was completely out of it. His mind was doing cartwheels as he freaked out on the inside.

“Hyung, it’s gonnabe ok. I’m with you on this.” Soobin says holding out his hand for Yeonjun.

Yeonjun looked up, somehow glad that Soobin and he were looking past their issues to solve this mystery, but he couldn’t be glad about anything right now, given the circumstances.

Yeonjun grabs Soobin’s hand and Soobin pulled him up from the bed, looking into Yeonjun’s equally dark and tired eyes. “Let’s go”

The sun had set for a while now.

It was past 8 and Mia was fidgeting with her sleeves, contemplating if she should ring your doorbell.

She came all the way to your house but somehow, she didn’t think things through fully.

What if you didn’t want to see her? What if you were just as mad as before?

She built up the courage to ring your doorbell and no later than 10 seconds you opened the door, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes before you realized who it was.

“Mia?” you say a little dumbfounded.

“C-can I come in?” she asked with sad eyes.

You bite your lip, and nod, stepping aside so she could walk into your apartment.

For some odd reason you had the feeling as if Mia’s eyes weren’t the only ones looking at you and as she steps inside of your apartment, you skim the hallways with your eyes, but there was no one in sight.

You stand there frozen for a second before you turn your attention to Mia, closing the door behind you.

The silence was awkward when you poured a cup of her favorite mandarin green tea for her as she was sitting on your couch, waiting for you to sit down with her so you could talk.

In the meantime, Soobin and Yeonjun had raced their way over to your house, and to their horror, the black BMW had returned.

Yeonjun was the first one to run out of Soobin's car to inspect the BMW, he had no idea what he was running towards, how dangerous It would be, and what could happen if he exposed whoever was in there but he didn’t care.

He hit the hood of the car and tried to look inside but the vehicle was empty.

Soobin jogged after Yeonjun after having parked his car on the sidewalk. “Empty?”

Yeonjun nodded, kicking a dent into the front car door out of frustration.

“He can’t be far.”

You sat down with Mia, handing her the cup and just as she was about to speak, a weird cracking noise at your front door alerted both of you.

“Is…someone trying to break your lock?” Mia says with wide eyes. You look at her in panic and put your finger over your mouth, telling her to stop talking.

You get up with the cup of boiling hot tea in your hand, and tiptoe your way to your front door to look through the peephole. Mia got up as well, watching you like a hawk as she trailed behind you.

Your heart dropped to your stomach as you see an unknown man trying to force your lock open and you cover your mouth to suppress a gasp.

You don’t know what went through your mind but you didn’t have time to think.

You open your door with a fast swing, startling the unknown intruder in the process.

“Y/N!” Mia yelled trying to pull you back but you didn’t budge.

He reached into his pocket to retrieve something shiny, but before he could do anything, you throw the cup of hot water in his face, making him groan and drop his pockets’ contents on the floor.

He ran for it, and right that second the elevator doors open across the hall, and you see Yeonjun and Soobin with balled fists and alarmed facial expressions run over to you.

You made eye contact with both of them as adrenaline rushed through your veins, everything happened so damn fast that you couldn’t process how or why this was happening. And why Soobin and Yeonjun magically appeared at the right timing.

“Stay with them.” Yeonjun tells Soobin in panic as he ran after the perpetrator in the opposite direction without hesitation.

“YEONJUN NO!” You yell. You wanted to run after him as well, but Soobin stops you by blocking you with his body, shocked to see a frozen Mia behind you in the door way of your apartment.

Your neighbors came out of their apartments to see what the fuss was about, and suddenly you felt your head spinning. People were gathering outside of their homes in confusion as they talked amongst themselves, but nothing registered to you as adrenaline kept coursing through your veins.

“Let me go!” you protest, but Soobin doesn’t move. It didn’t take long for you to give up the fight and you look to the floor, seeing a cracked iPhone lying next to a knife and suddenly shivers ran down your spine at the thought of what he could have done to you with that weapon.

“S-Soobin what’s going on.” Mia says as her eyes found his.

Soobin sighed, turning around to talk to the crowd that had formed in the halls. “Nothing to see here people, please go back inside.”

“We need to call the cops” Mia says. “Was it a coincidence that you showed up here?”

Soobin shook his head, retrieving the phone from the floor as your neighbors went back inside with confused faces. A few of them lingered around and to your relief you see Yeonjun come back up the fire escape.

“I lost the motherfucker.” He shouts in anger walking into your apartment as he brushed passed you, exploring every room just to be sure. “He drove off so fast there was no way I could catch up.”

You were completely dazed and out of it, all you heard was white noise even though Soobin and Mia were talking to each other and when Yeonjun came back from inspecting your bedroom, he ran to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and trapping you into his embrace.

“Oh my god, thank god you’re okay,” he says obviously overcome with emotion as he held you close to his chest. His hand was on your head, trying to comfort you and it worked. The recent events finally got to you as you melt in his hold and you start to tremble as the shock in your body gets replaced by realization.

This could have ended a lot differently.

Soobin closes your front door and put his arm around Mia who was just as shocked by what happened. He held her hand, intertwining their fingers as he kissed her temple. “Are you ok?”

She nodded, sighing as she let go of Soobin, she wanted answers and fast.

“Is someone going to tell us what the fuck is going on?” She says looking from you to Yeonjun to Soobin and then back to you with worried eyes.

Yeonjun reluctantly let go of you. He didn’t know where to start because everything happened so fast. 30 minutes ago, he was in his room, not suspecting a thing before Soobin barged in with his crazy but justified assumptions.

“When we were in the bakery, I saw a man watching us. And when I dropped you off at home, I saw a car with someone inside that looked like him. That same car was following Yeonjun and Wooyoung last night as well.” Soobin explains as he made his way to you. He held you by your shoulders, inspecting you from head to toe.

“Did he touch you?”

You shake your head and sigh but Mia chimes in, in an attempt to lighten the mood. “You guys should’ve seen her, she turned full G.I Joe on the man and threw her tea in his face.”

You manage to let out a chuckle and sit down on the armrest of your couch trying to wrap your mind around what Soobin just said.

Yeonjun couldn’t even think of cracking a smile. Too lost in thought to be fully present.

“What does he want? Who is he? This can’t be random?” You ask looking at Yeonjun with hopeful eyes. For once you wanted him to tell you the truth.

“No,” Yeonjun says. “Because it isn’t”

“Huh?” Mia says a little annoyed at their vagueness. “We should have called the cops.”

“No, it’s…” Soobin hesitated but continued after Yeonjun gave him a small nod. “I saw the Choi Enterprise's watermark on a pen in his suits’ front pocket at the bakery.”

Your eyes shoot to Soobin’s in shock. “That’s why you wanted to leave and why you were acting so weird?”

Soobin nodded guiltily and you scoff. “Why didn’t you tell me.”

“Because I wasn’t sure, but the pen, the phone it all….” Soobin stopped mid-sentence and all of you looked to him in confusion.

He retrieved something from his pocket and showed it to you. “He dropped his fucking phone.”

“Oh my god.” Yeonjun says walking up to Soobin to check out the device.

All of you walk over to your dinner table and sit down, trying different passcodes to unlock the phone but it was to no avail. After having blocked access for more than 15 minutes you give up until the phone started to buzz against the surface of your wooden table.

It was an anonymous caller ID this time, and all of you look to Yeonjun.

“Well…is anyone going to get that?” Mia says as she looked at the rest of you.

Soobin was nervously biting his nails while you just stared at the phone.

Yeonjun gulped before he took the phone from the table, sliding his finger over the screen to accept the call.

He put the phone on speaker and stayed silent.

“Status report?”

"...Hello?"

All of your eyes widened at the same time and Yeonjun ended the call immediately. Shivers ran down your spine and you swallow harshly as you fixate your gaze on Yeonjun.

That voice, you’ve heard it before, and you knew exactly who it belonged to.

“No…” he says as his heart drops. “This can’t be her.”

“Yeonjun…” you try to hold his hand but he pulls away, all eyes were on him as he got up, you were worried for him and uncertain of what to do.

He couldn’t take this, not after everything else that happened.

He looked completely lost as disbelief washed over him, he bit his lip; choking back tears that welled up in his eyes.

“It can’t be Lita.”

Chapter 13.

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wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 3 years

Text

Psycho Analysis is a series that looks at villains across various media in the hopes of coming to something of a consensus on the overall quality of the character. Are they performed well? Do they enrich the narrative? Are their motives fleshed out? Are they voiced by Tim Curry and thus a sex icon?

There are a lot of important questions that I look into, but ultimately, Psycho Analysis boils down to asking one simple little question: How bad can a character be?

Thankfully, there’s one villain who decided to answer that question for me... in song form.

Psycho Analysis: The Once-ler

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

Yeah, I’m finally talking about everyone’s favorite greedy bastard who, back in some of the darkest days of Tumblr history, ended up being the premier sexyman on the website. People were thirsting over this twiggy weirdo, acting as if he were God’s gift to women and shipping him with alternate versions of himself. Much like the movie he’s from, he is now incredibly hard to take seriously.

But hey, speaking of alternate versions of himself, I’m going to be covering him from the original book and the animated short film as well. Might as well just knock it all out of the park at once, right? Now let’s see how ba-a-a-ad this guy can be.

Motivation/Goals: The Once-ler is all about biggering. He’s making thneeds (things that everyone needs) and he is gonna stop at nothing to craft these things. Not even the power of the Lorax, Danny DeVito or otherwise, is going to stay his hand from getting that sweet, soft Truffula fluff to make his wares. This is ultimately a little unrealistic, at least for the Illumination version; if Danny DeVito asked me not to do something, I’d listen, no questions asked.

Performance: In the animated special, Bob Holt does double duty, as he is portraying both Once-ler and the title character. It works really well for what they’re going for, and the double casting is interesting because it highlights the ultimate role of the Lorax as the Once-ler’s conscience given form.

In the film, Ed Helms portrays the Once-ler, and he’s fine. He’s certainly better casting than Audrey, but that’s not particularly saying much considering that’s a non-singing Taylor Swift (when Cats is able to utilize Taylor Swift better than your musical, you know there’s trouble). I don’t know, Ed Helms is fun and all, but I’m just not sure his take on the Once-ler is all too compelling overall.

Final Fate: In the original book and the special, the Once-ler wins… but even he realizes it’s a terrible, pointless victory, and all he has achieved is ruin, his family leaving him, his business ultimately collapsing, and the environment permanently damaged. He’s left as a miserable, jaded hermit, broken by the bleak consequences his greedy actions have sown upon the world and only able to tell his story and pass on the last Truffula seed in the hopes that maybe, maybe someday the trees can regrow and the Lorax will return. The Illumination version follows this but then tacks on a happy ending where the Lorax and Once-ler reunite because as we know ambiguity and bittersweet endings cannot exist in children’s films.

Best Scene: Obviously it’s the scene where he shakes his ass to seduce Jack Frost, in one of the greatest gay romances ever put to film.

Joking aside, it is undoubtedly his villain song. It has become such a meme, but real talk? “How Bad Can I Be” slaps. This is a really good song, probably too good for the movie but you know what, I’ll take it.

youtube

Best Quote: HOW BA-A-A-AD CAN I BE? Yes, I’m using a line from his villain song. Sue me.

Final Thoughts & Score: What can one really say about the movie version of the Once-ler that hasn’t already been run into the ground? Well, how about… He’s not too bad, honestly? Like, yes, he has next to nothing to do with his book counterpart and they really go way too far into trying to make a capitalist pig sympathetic… but the animated special from the 70s did that too. I think the Once-ler honestly works better when there is a dash of complexity to him and he isn’t just a simple-minded Captain Planet villain.

Of course, the issue here is that the 70s version took a simpler approach, kind of less is more. The 70s Once-ler brings up some valid points to the Lorax about his work, and the Lorax can’t help but agree that there’s no easy answer while also stressing that the environmental devastation is still really, really bad. It works, it feels complex, and it arguably helps the ultimate point that we need to protect the environment better than even the book did (and I love the book, don’t get me wrong, but its take on the Once-ler is a bit too simple for its own good; it almost runs into the Femme Fatale problem by being a bit too much of a strawman). The movie version has a bit too much going on, especially with his family. His family are much more blatantly evil, greedy, and manipulative, but they’re relegated to the background for much of the film and don’t effect things all that much. The whole narrative would have been infinitely stronger if they were the greater scope villains behind Once-ler and were who needed to be defeated and maybe taught a lesson, but instead they are ignored in favor of someone I’ll address very shortly.

All of this leaves movie Once-ler feeling extremely disjointed, but not irredeemably so. As I said before, his villain song is unironically awesome, and as lame as it is compared to the more haunting, contemplative ending of the book and the special, I’m not so much of a curmudgeon that I didn’t at least smile when he finally reconciled with the Lorax. Ultimately though, him being memed to death really didn’t help his case, but it means I’m not giving the movie version anything less than a 3/10. He might in fact be the best “so bad it’s good” villain ever, or at least up there. He’s just so undeniably enjoyable even if the narrative isn’t making him as complex as it thinks it is. The animated special version gets a 9/10, the book version is a 7/10, and the Once-ler’s family gets a 5/10 for being an interesting concept they sadly do little with, which will now be elaborated on as I follow up on the foreshadowing from the last paragraph...

Psycho Analysis: Aloysius O’Hare

Remember how I said the Once-ler’s family gets ignored in favor of someone else? Here he is, Aloysius O’Hare, one of the absolute lamest villains ever put to screen.

Motivation/Goals: He’s greedy. That’s it. I’m not kidding. He’s just a cartoonish caricature of a rich person, which still makes him a realistic portayal but also makes him boring as sin compared to the wacky dude with a big musical number about how bad he can be.

Performance: Rob Riggle does a decent job, but there’s really not much for him to work with here. This character is a cardboard cutout who exists to be as cartoonishly greedy and evil as possible with no nuance so the kids know who to root against and so that Once-ler doesn’t look bad in comparison.

Final Fate: Look, he’s a blatantly evil corporate villain in a kid’s movie about the environment. Of course he gets defeated and everyone turns on him. What’s especially funny though is that, on the brink of learning his lesson, he rejects any form of redemption and just goes whole hog on being a villain.

Best Scene: I will absolutely give him this: in the face of his ultimate defeat, after having the virtues of trees sung to him and the entire town turning on him, he for a moment contemplates turning over a new leaf… and then absolutely rejects the thought and instead decides being evil is just too much fun, at which point he tries to get everyone back on his side by seeing a funny little song about death while wavedashing. If more shitty villains did this, I don’t think there would be shitty villains.

Best Quote: LET IT DIE, LET IT DIE, LET IT SHRIVEL UP AND DIE! Yes I’m quoting a song again.

Final Thoughts & Score: Look, I’m not gonna mine words here: O’Hare sucks. Big time. He is a prime example of why The Lorax failed as an adaptation. In a story that is dealing with a moral grayness with no easy answers, O’Hare is just a big, blatant target, a dark shade of black in terms of black-and-white morality. He’s like a reject Captain Planet villain with Edna Mode’s haircut.

The movie would have been infinitely better if, instead of him, the Once-ler’s family were in control of the town, and they needed to learn the lesson about saving the trees instead of simply vanishing from the story. They were shown to be overbearing, manipulative, and greedy, and they had a much more personal connection with Once-ler being, you know, his actual family. The fact they abandon him and never really get any sort of comeuppance despite being perhaps the most evil people in the move, egging on Once-ler and taking full advantage of him, makes O’Hare all the more egregious, because there could have been some strong thematic elements that would have tied the film together and made it come off as much less preachy and more nuanced.

But we don’t live in a world where that happened, we live in a world where we got O’Hare. Aside from some genuine hilarity from him at the end, O’Hare really adds very little to the film. I gotta give him a 2/10, but I will say he’s a lot closer to a 3 than he is to a 1; there’s no denying his absolute rejection of learning a moral is absolutely hilarious. I love when villains do that. It’s just a shame those funny moments are wrapped up in something monumentally unimpressive.

#Psycho Analysis #The Once-ler #The Lorax #Ed Helms #Aloysius O'Hare #Rob Riggle

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starkeristheendgame · 4 years

Note

okay so i just got my first ever massage today and holy crap it was so sensual. and i was wondering if you could write something where like tony’s had so many massages in his life that he knows where the best spots are and peter is stressed cus of college or whatever and tony gives him a massage and peter cums just from tony giving him a back massage.

Ooohhh, yes! I’m not one for massages personally because I kinda hate being touched by people I don’t know, especially like that, but I’ve given a few to friends and received a few from past lovers, so I hope this is to your liking! Thank you so so much for the prompt! I added a little dry humping in this, too, because cumming just from a spinal massage seemed a lil too unrealistic.

Super healing was all well and good, but Tony knew well enough that it didn’t mean the absence of pain. He’d been around Steve long enough to know that in some cases, it even amplified it. What was feeling your bones and muscles stretching for each other if not painful?

Watching Peter wince and reach for his lower back for the fourth time since they holed themselves up in the lab, Tony knew the answer. The kid had taken a pretty decent battering on the field - No broken bones, but plenty of taut, aching muscles.

“Hey, kid” Tony called, setting down the holo-pen he was using and motioning for Peter to join him. The boy moved happily but gingerly, overcareful of stretching too much as he bounded over to Tony’s side.

“Yes, Mr. Stark?”

“You doing okay? You’re creaking more than I do”. Tony had just began to come to terms with the fact that his age unfortunately hadn’t slowed down. He was verging on fifty, greying at the temples and finding it harder and harder after each battle. He was by no means unfit, but age was unkind to even superheroes.

“I’m fine, Mr. Stark. Just kinda twinges a little” Peter shrugged, and visibly regretted it. Tony cast the kid a pointed look, and he deflated slightly. “Okay. So...It kinda does suck. But only a little! Like, a day or two and I’ll be fine. Hot baths help, too”.

Tony gave a considering hum and reached up to rub at his jaw. “What about massages?” He asked, and Peter blinked at him.

“What, like...Some stranger rubbing you all over while you wear nothing but a towel?”

Tony huffed a laugh. “I don;t know what porn you’re watching, kid, but the majority of places ask you to wear your underwear or a bathing suit”. Peter went a pretty shade of dusky pink, eyes flitting anywhere but Tony’s face as he died a little inside.

“Uh. Well. No to either. Both! I mean...I’ve never had a massage. Its just a little weird, isn’t it? And expensive” Peter rambled, gesturing meekly. Tony supposed it was a little strange, but he was also not ill-advised of the merits of a skilled masseuse.

“Cm’ere” Tony coaxed, motioning Peter closer. The boy frowned a little, but was mostly curious as he stepped forwards, and Tony grasped him by a lithe shoulder, turning him until the kid was facing away from him, and Tony could see the smooth lines of his back through his shirt.

He reached up and set his hands on Peter’s shoulders, brows furrowing as he carefully felt about the honed muscles. God, but Peter was tense. Not coiled like a spring, but he definitely wasn’t lax as Tony pressed his thumbs gently into the meat of his shoulder. Peter jolted in surprise but visibly forced himself to relax as Tony began to knead at him, and after several moments, let out a soft sound.

“Huh. That’s...Not so bad” Peter admitted, when Tony was digging into the space between his shoulders, paddling out the tension across his spine there. Tony gave a light smile and a hum, to show that he was listening to him.

“You feel like someone just caught you jacking off, kid” he chuckled, and then paused. Perhaps...Not the greatest choice in words, and he hurried to wipe them from immediate existence. “I know you got pretty beat up out there, yesterday. How about I book you in with my guy, huh? You can see him whenever you feel too...Tense”.

“I don’t know, Mr. Stark. I mean, I don’t think I want some stranger feeling me up” Peter replied, but it was quiet, distracted as Tony let his hands dip a little lower, to the point where his spine began to broaden out into shoulderblades, pawing at the meat and bone.

“Have a think about it” Tony urged, thumbs pressing against the dip of Peter’s spinal cord, and the boy gave a muffled, sharp sound. Tony almost, almost paused, but he knew pleasure when he heard it, and continued wordlessly. And he was kind of glad he did, because when he took the selfish opportunity to run his hands down Peter’s spine, the kid truly did feel like he’d been tazed or something.

“Jesus, kid” Tony whuffed, petting gently at the locked up muscles. Peter ducked his head and then looked over his shoulder at Tony, almost shyly. Tony greeted him with a small smile and let his knuckles graze the delicate outline of the boy’s spine, not enough to really do enough except indulge himself.

“Alright, here. Sit on this chair, facing the back” Tony instructed, motioning to his abandoned stool. It had a sloped back, and Peter twisted, moving cautiously but clearly interested to see where this was going to do. He took a moment to psych himself up as he watched Peter splay those toned, lithe thighs around the chair, watched the shirt hug his back when he leaned forwards.

But Tony was nothing if not a pleaser, and he stepped forwards, waggling his fingers and then driving the heels of his palms against the small of his back. Peter made another of those soft little noises, and Tony offered a smirk, brows furrowing as he focused on mapping the lines of Peter’s body, each slope and curve and each battered muscle.

Somewhere along the five minute mark, Peter’s head was lolling and on every other press of Tony’s hands he was uttering pleasured, sighed little sounds. It sang through Tony’s veins, catering to every nurturing and giving atom in his body. Peter was growing laxer by the minute, and yet...

“Hey, kid. If you wanna get the most outta this - And this isn’t a come-on, but you ought to be laying down, and I’ve got a perfectly working bed one floor up” Tony remarked, trying his hardest to word it so it didn’t sound like he was being a leech.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter sounded sleepy, but his voice was a little higher, too, hitched like he was trying to contain himself.

“Not a come-on” Tony hurried to reiterate, hands stilling but not leaving Peter’s body. “Massages are done with you laying down, right? So you’re all relaxed and...Easier to mash up like a potato, I suppose. I can do a little magic like this, but if you want the full effect...”

He was aware of how it all sounded, and he was about to take it all back when Peter shifted, and then nodded.

“Okay. Yeah. Um. Are you sure? I mean, its your bed” Peter uttered, Tony stepping back just in time for him to swing a leg around, standing and then sitting again, so he was facing his mentor. Tony snorted lightly, and eyed him.

“You say that like I’m a wolf and its my den”.

“Well. No. But its kinda...Private, isn’t it? Like, its your space”. And. Well, Tony could understand that. He was, in fact, rather comfortable with having his bedroom as his personal space. Especially with the majority of the Avengers living at the Tower now.

It was his space, yes. Even the rare hook ups he’d managed over the years, he took them to one of the spare rooms. But he wasn’t about to tell Peter that, and he certainly wasn’t going to analyse why he was so comfortable with the idea of Peter not only seeing it, but laying in his bed.

“Its not like you’re gonna be rolling around naked in it, kid”.

And.

This is why he didn’t talk to people. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, but a shuffle brought his gaze up and he blinked when he found Peter standing, smiling at him almost meekly.

“Okay, Mr. Stark. It’ll be nice to be able to move around properly again”.

Tony opened his mouth, closed it, and turned on his heel. He’d offered; he couldn’t back out of it now. It felt hideously odd to lead the way to his room, his skin prickling and his mind like a box of angry wasps. He was hyper-aware of Peter’s footfalls behind him, light and steady.

The stairs. The penthouse main suite. Up the short steps and along the balcony. And...Right outside his bedroom door. The actual penthouse was nothing new to Peter - The two of them had spent enough time in here, as had the other Avengers, though it was by far not as heavily populated as the ‘main floor’ of the Tower, now dubbed a communal space.

And yet.

Tony pushed open his bedroom door before he could think too deeply about all of this, and swung an arm out with bravado. “Ta-Da! Here it is. My humble abode. Or...The very top part, at least”.

Tony’s bedroom was...Indulgent. His bed was a super king, and then just a little bigger. Black sheets that adorned a mix of silk of teddy fleece, and snowy-fox style fake fur throws. Ample pillows. The decor was minimalistic but a blend of regal and cool, sleek modern. Steel greys and deep blacks. One entire wall gave a one-way view of the cityscape and could be projected into anything he desired.

Besides him, Peter audibly breathed out.

“I know. Pretty lame, right?” Tony could do with more than 6 blankets. And he could definitely do something more creative with the decor. Besides him, Peter looked affronted.

“My bed came from a garage sale”.

“Ah” Tony considered, then gestured. “Go ahead”.

Like a puppy being told it could get on the couch, Peter went bounding towards it, flopping down near the centre with a delighted sound. Tony’s heart did something that defied gravity, and he let Peter squirm about for a moment before clearing his throat.

“Alright, alright. Roll over”. And he was really gonna have to stop with the puppy analogies before he couldn’t walk down the same street as a dog anymore. But Peter co,plied instantly, rolling onto his stomach with a whine of satisfaction, nosing into Tony’s sheets and...And he took the opportunity to adjust himself briefly, cursing the fact his cock had pricked up in mild interest.

“Alright. I’m gonna avoid any ‘deep tissue’ kinda territory, because you’ve never had a massage before”. And Tony knew from personal experience that ‘flying before you could walk’ was not always the best approach. Peter was looking at him again, blinking doefully and entirely too trusting, and Tony gave a light cough before he set a knee down next to Peter’s hip.

He decided on safe territory, and went back to the boys shoulderblades and upper spine, kneading intently and applying more pressure than he had before, know he knew the boy was safely and comfortably relaxed. Beneath him Peter was pliant and soft, eyes closed, arms crossed as a pillow and doing something utterly unforgivable to Tony’s heart.

He let his hands naturally gravitate towards the centre of Peter’s back, pressing at the easy slope of his spine. Beneath him, Peter’s hips hitched, and Tony fought back a smile. Involuntary movements could be hilarious. He pressed the heels of his palms down, thumbs sliding along the gentle ridges of the bone, and Peter heaved out a breath, hips pressing down into the plush bedding.

It was relatively quiet, Tony focusing on his work and Peter reaping the benefits of it with cute little noises. It wasn’t until Peter moaned that Tony realised his hips were inching quite...Rhythmically.

Doing his best not to alter his hand movements, Tony let his gaze zero in on the boy’s hips, watching as they rolled languidly and minutely against his bed. Something feral opened its eyes within him, licking its great, gaping maw. Tony sucked in a sharp breath and let his weight drop a little more, pressing Peter’s hips against the bed.

“O-Oh” Peter stuttered, and Tony couldn’t help a sly grin.

“Good?”

“Mm” Peter breathed, lips parted. Tony watched, rapt and hungry, gravitating to the space between Peter’s hips. He did his best not to make it obvious, the way he manipulated how Peter rutted against his mattress, but before long the boy was shaking and a steady stream of moans were dripping from his tongue.

Peter seemed to catch himself at one point, stiffening, cheeks flushing, but Tony shushed him cheerfully. “Hey, its okay. At least you’re not screaming in agony” he teased, and Peter giggled, relaxing again.

“I’m sorry. Its just...Its good? I mean, it hurts a little sometimes. But it feels really nice”.

He wanted, so badly in that moment, to make Peter feel even better. To drive his hips down against the bedding until he came. It was possessive and greedy, and he tried to fight it even as Peter’s sweet, high little moans filled his ears.

“Its okay” he repeated, quieter. “How does...Do you feel any better?” He asked, keeping his voice light. Below him, Peter nodded, paused, and squirmed.

“I do, yeah. Tonnes, but...I mean, I’m still a little stiff? In the middle. Maybe...Maybe the muscle is too tight? Or its not the right angle?”

Something twisted within him, warping and bending until it snapped, and he was parting his lips before he could even muster the self-control to murder the thought. “I could...Its not common. For obvious reasons. And feel no obligation to agree, but I could change the angle? Just means kinda...Sitting. On your legs. A little”.

And...Fuck. He wanted to claw the words back in, especially when Peter’s breathing hitched and he whimpered, but...Fuck. Was the kid nodding? The kid was nodding.

“Okay. Yeah. Just...For the...Benefits” Peter near whispered. Tony stared at the back of his head for a little while longer, tracing the spirals of his curls before he sucked in a breath. Right.

“Right” he affirmed, and after a moment, he brought his other leg up, so, so carefully over the other side of Peter. He aimed it close to his knee, so that when he truly shuffled across he wasn’t quite reverse-straddling the teenager. The angle actually was better, because he could pay closer attention to the alignment of his back and the muscle layout.

And now that he had better access, he began to knead at the boy in earnest, drawing soft little ‘uh’s on each press that went straight, unfortunately, to his dick.He couldn’t help the thought that this was quite possibly what the kid sounded like, stroking himself to orgasm in secret, late at night in his room.

“O-Oh. That’s...Yeah, Mr. Stark” the boy half-moaned, shaky and almost surprised, like he hadn’t ever expected it to feel this good.

Tony’s own hips nudged forwards, irregardless of his own permission, until he was all but three inches away from grinding against the teen like a...Well. Like a teen. Tony remembered all those youthful days of rutting against his partners like a dog in heat, the teasing friction that layers of clothing offered.

“Can you...Could you go lower? Like, the bottom of my spine? It feels...tight” Peter sounded hesitant, but more in the way that he typically was when asking anything of Tony. It was still fresh on Tony’s mind that it had taken the kid almost a month of being at the Tower to even ask for a drink.

“Yeah, kid. Okay” Tony agreed easily, surprised at how little his voice strained or wavered. He shuffled on his knees to adjust his balance and lowered the placement of his hands, watching Peter’s spine bow under his touch, hips sliding in an arc against his bed.

The short little hitches had Tony tipping forwards without even really registering it, and when a shuffle from Peter had Tony’s hips just barely grazing his ass, they both paused. Tony was about to open his mouth when Peter relaxed again, fingers flexing then twisting in the bedsheets, and he wordlessly continued.

The squirming increased. The moans grew bolder, less held back. Subtle nudges became flat out grinds into Tony’s luxurious sheets, and each torturous movement nudged them together in bare touches.

One particularly heavy press of Tony’s palms had Peter letting out an honest to god whine, hips pushing back against his hips instead of down against the bed, and Tony breathed out heavy, thumbs digging into his muscles. “Good?” He rasped, and Peter whimpered below him, fisting the sheets tightly and grinding back again.

“Peter...”

“I’m sorry. It just...Your hands. The bed” Peter heaved, burying his face into his arms to hide his shame. Tony found himself squeezing Peter’s hips, swallowing thickly as he looked down to see where they were connected, the jut of his hips flush against that plump, round ass he’d been doing his best not to look at for the past fifteen minutes.

“Its okay” he was speaking before he could even think about it, fingers flexing reassuringly in their perfect, fitting hold before he ran his hand down Peter’s spine, pet at his flank. “Happens to the best of us. Just...Don’t ruin my sheets”.

God. What was he saying? This is why Pepper didn’t let him do things. Or meet people anymore. Beneath him Peter’s little body hitched and he turned his head slightly, blinking back at Tony with wide, vulnerable eyes.

“Wha-?”

“Just relax” Tony cut him off, hands drifting to resume his work on that tight little knot at the base of his spine. It looked like Peter was going to protest, but then he lolled his head back into the duvet, nuzzling it with a low groan.

“M-Mr. Stark” the boy dragged out, trembling just ever so slightly under his hold as Tony drove his hips down against the bedding, and pulled them back up against his hips, where his own cock had begun to swell into a thick rise.

“You’re...Hard” Peter squeaked, and Tony ground his teeth, thumbing at a stiff slope of muscle.

“Yeah” he agreed quietly, and was surprised when Peter’s hips drove back against him. His breath stuttered in his lungs and he folded over slightly, gripping at Peter’s hips as a spark of pleasure jumped through his pelvis.

He fucked forwards against it without thinking, pressing down on Peter’s bowed spine, drawing a moan from both of them. “How close are you?” He ground out, rolling his hips languidly to ride the slope of Peter’s firm ass. Beneath him the boy whimpered and rolled his hips in response.

“Close”.

“That the skill of my hands, or the durability of my bedding?” Tony couldn’t help teasing, and Peter shuddered beneath him, head shaking slightly as he refused to answer. Tony couldn’t even feel affronted - He knew the pleasure of good bedding and sturdy mattress.

They began to move together in earnest, rutting with single-minded intent like Tony was eighteen and driven by his cock all over again (he might not be eighteen now, but the latter still largely applies). Tony braced himself, thighs tensed and body arched over Peter’s, riding his ass like it was all he was born to do even as he kept working on Peter’s spine, digging into the meat and bone until one of Peter’s arms bent backwards, searching.

Their fingers interlocked and Tony moved his arm forwards, bringing Peter’s hand back to a more comfortable position as the signs the boy was getting closer to completion became more apparent. Tony’s own pleasure was coiling through his body, taut like a spring about to release. He felt flushed, heady, cock hot and desperate.

“Mr. Stark!” It was pitched, a half-yelp, and then Peter’s body was jerking beneath him, arching and locking up, torn between fucking forwards and pressing back against Tony’s cock as the boy shuddered through his orgasm, coaxed through it by Tony’s hand on the centre of his back, pressing him down into the mattress.

Peter cums with the most breathtaking sound. A moan warped into a cry, shaking and rich with pleasure and emotion. Has the bite heightened everything? Peter’s senses are always so sharp, so raw. How did an orgasm feel, when even the sound of your own breathing could overwhelm you?

When the kid finally, finally slumps down beneath him, still pinned - allowing himself to be pinned - Tony can’t bring himself to chase his own, heat and guilt fighting an equal war in his gut.

“How do you feel?” He bit out, forcing himself to let up some of the weight. Peter had only consented to Tony making him feel good. And even then...Had it really been consent? He kind of felt like the guilt was winning out of the heat.

“I feel good” Peter breathed, head turned to blink at him lazily, sated. “Really good. I feel...Loose”.

The lecherous smirk is dazzling before he can stop it, palm sliding down the gentle slope of Peter’s spine the settle dead centre on that inviting, round ass, thumb pressing just a fraction into the dip of his cheeks, towards a wet, hot heat Tony knows awaits.

“Want to feel even looser?”

#fanfic #starker #starker fanfiction #starker fanfic #starker fic #starker smut #starker drabble #starker prompt #starker prompt fill #starker request #ironspider #ironspider fanfiction #ironspider fanfic #ironspider fic #ironspider smut #ironspider request #ironspider prompt #sie fics

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swift--fox · 3 years

Text

Don't Go

HERE we go I took all day to finish it but I kept up my end of the bargain. i WILL do it again if i must and next time you have to drink two cups of water >:( ignore the lame title my brain is sludge.

This is so cuuuute, Thank you @pissbabydean for writing this for me. Even if its been over a week since you submitted it 😂😂 Jokes on you though, I haven’t drank water since. So really, whos winning? (Definitely not my organs but they don’t count lmao)

Submitted by my adopted belgium child, @pissbabydean

——

Pounding on the door; something’s out there, something bad. There’s a burning weight on his shoulder, searing hot, his whole arm numb. There’s a sound - so loud he can’t hear it, just feel the vibrations, the pain in his ears. Then black; dark, cold, empty.

Empty.

Dean bolted up with a strangled cry, hands already grappling with the warm and very present body beside him. Then he’s surrounded in comfort, familiar arms.

“Shh, Dean. Dean, it’s okay. You’re okay,” Cas whispers, arms wound tightly around Dean’s waist, face pressed against the side of his throat. He’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat, skin flushed from the adrenaline coursing through his system. He shakes, mutters, cries. Castiel rocks him through it, shushing him and rubbing circles on any available skin with his thumbs.

“Will you talk about it?”

Dean was still breathing heavy, but he felt more in control of his body. He twisted in the other man’s grip and nuzzled his face into the warm collarbone before him. He shook his head and Cas hummed in acknowledgment, sweeping gentle, warm, and loving across the planes of Dean’s bare back.

Dean let himself relax once again, but the persistent fear still clawed at his insides. He swallowed thickly and whined when Cas shifted under him in an attempt to get up, winding his arms around Castiel’s neck indignantly.

“Shhh, shh, I’m just gonna go make you some tea. I’m not going anywhere,” He cooed, rubbing Dean’s arms soothingly. Dean detached himself from his boyfriend and allowed him to stand up, quickly shrugging on his dead-guy robe over his boxer clad body and re-wrapping his arms around Cas from behind.

The angel huffs in amusement and covers the intertwined hands resting on his stomach with his own, squeezing them in reassurance.

It’s awkward, but they manage to waddle to the kitchen without Dean relinquishing his sloth-like grip. Dean sits himself up on the counter, watching as his angel putters around; filling up the kettle, setting out mugs while the water heated on the stove. He opened the cupboard and rooted around their selection of tea.

“Rosehip or Hybiscus?”

Dean looked up to see a pair of blue eyes looking at him expectantly. He shrugged and swung his legs over the edge of the counter, drumming them against the side.

“We got any of that, um-what’s it called? Ca…Camera? Cam…mo…uh-that daisy lookin’ shit.”

Then Cas was laughing at him, shoulders shaking and clutching at the edge of the cupboard door. Dean smiled back, even though he was a little offended.

“Chamomille. Yeah, Dean; we have chamomile.”

Dean grumbled to himself and immediately grabbed Cas’s shoulder when he started walking past him.

“Where you going?” He accused, tugging him back.

“To get a sweater. It’s too cold to be shirtless. I’m j-Dean, I’m only going to our room. I’ll be right back.” Cas frowned, taking Dean’s hand from his shoulder to kiss the back of it. It was downright unfair how Cas was still able to give him butterflies after six months. Dean reached out and grabbed Castiel again - this time with both hands and he even brought his legs into the mix. He hooked his boyfriend into an inescapable hold and pulled him against the counter, crossing his ankles at the small of his back.

“I’ll keep you warm. Don’t go,” Dean pleaded, smattering his face with kisses.

He laughed and sought after Dean’s wandering lips with his own, snaking his arms around Dean’s waist under his robe.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; I’m not going anywhere, Dean.”

Little comfort those words brought him now, after having had Cas taken from him so many times. So, he drew him closer.

“Good. So stay right here with me,”

Cas sighed and kissed the bolt of Dean’s jaw, which he sensed was about to become a pre-emptive apology.

“I’m still cold. And what if Sam sees? Or if Jack visits?” He said, kissing a trail across Dean’s chest.

“Don’t care; Sam’s seen worse, and Jack has better things to do than ambush us at 3 am. Y’know, being God, and all.” Dean grinned lazily.

Fingers curl at his sides, the mop of ebony bed-head tickling Dean’s forehead as he pressed theirs together.

“That’s not very considerate of you,” Cas raised an eyebrow, voice low and teasing. The fingers hovering at his bare skin twitch and so does Dean, jerking away from the tingly feeling. A poorly masked smirk plays at Castiel’s lips as he trails his hands softly along the sides of Dean’s thighs that were hooked around his hips. He stops at the knee, though, and flutters his fingers at the soft flesh. Dean huffs and squirms, cupping his face to pull him into a kiss - in hopes of de-railing this train before it reaches its destination, which would inevitably be with Dean red-faced and laughing.

And it works. For about 10 seconds.

Then, there are fingernails tracing and stroking the tendons and muscles on the backs of Dean’s thighs. His reaction was swallowed by Castiel’s demanding mouth, never slowing the tickling of fingers, though. So Dean was conflicted between giving in to and just laughing into the kiss; slow and sweet and deep and sloppy - his favorite kind - or getting away from the infuriating yet addicting electricity buzzing just under his skin.

Then the hands were at his sides again, squeezing and kneading his waist, which sent Dean into a fit of snorting laughter and actually made him jump, breaking the seal of their lips.

“Dean, quiet down, you’re going to wake Sam,”

Dean reached over to smack his shoulder, which he immediately realized was a mistake when a hand shot into the newly unprotected hollow. He shrieked and hunched forward, laughing and wheezing into Cas’s chest. His legs fell from where they were wound around Castiel and his heels thumped against the sides of the counter he was seated on.

“Fuhuhuhck yohohou!”

“Mm, I believe that’s my job,”

Any witty response Dean may have been formulating was immediately forgotten when a hand clawed into his belly. A half-aborted screech shook his whole body and made Cas smile wide and toothy while he continued his ruthless attack on the soft abdomen. Dean kicked at Castiel’s legs, twisting and shaking and cackling, trying desperately to curl up into a ball. Castiel’s position between his legs kept him from drawing them to his chest, and then Cas pressed a palm flat to his chest and pushed his back flush to the wall - damn his angelic strength, and damn his ticklishness because now there was an even more desperate and squeaky quality to his laughter.

The angel only had one free hand, but, man, did he use it. Fingers vibrated, spidered, scribbled, and all manner of cruel things - and Dean could do nothing but laugh and kick at the air.

“I-AH CAHAHAS C’MOHOHON I CA-CAHAHN’T BREHEHEATHE,” Dean panted hysterically, somehow managing to shout the words out between fits of unchecked giggles and guffaws.

His attacker’s fingers slowed and traced feather-light patterns on his sides instead. Not enough to make him laugh, but it was enough to make him twitch and shift. Regardless, he sucked in air where he was allowed, his face was undoubtedly flushed. He slumped forward against a solid chest and grouched.

“What gives with the cruel and unusual punishment?” He whined, his heavy breathing occasionally punctured by a squeak or sharp intake of breath.

“I’d hardly call it ‘cruel’, seeing as you were enjoying yourself. And I was only trying to distract you, you were very upset a moment ago,”

Dean’s face heated and went even redder and he grumbled, hugging his arms across his torso.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t have a stomach ache a ‘moment ago’,”

Castiel sighed and finally took the kettle of the burner - he had no idea how long it’d been whistling. He set it aside and rest his hands on Dean’s thighs, schooling his expression into a wide-eyed, apologetic puppy-dog look.

“My apologies,”

Dean rolled his eyes and jumped down from the counter, folding his arms across his chest, pitching forward in search of Castiel’s lips. He evaded Dean’s attempt and bowed his head, smacking an obnoxiously loud and wet kiss over Dean’s belly button. Dean’s entire body jerked and when Castiel straightened up he was met by a mildly amused and mildly dangerous-looking hunter.

“Kissed it better,” He said in way of explanation.

Dean raised a single eyebrow and drew himself up to his full height, a dark and playful look settling on his beautiful features.

“Run,”

#submission #supernatural #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #ticklish!dean #This is AMAZING #I am in love #their relationship is so sweet and soft #Your writing is so good #I love yoooooooou

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inkedstarlight · 3 years

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Elriel: Halloween Edition

Summary: Azriel and his son go trick-or-treating and stop by Elain's house. They have an adorable encounter. Later that night, Elain goes to Feyre's house for the Halloween party she's throwing and meets her boyfriend, Rhys. Rhysand's brothers also come to the party and Elain runs into Azriel yet again. Let the romance ensue. Basically just a shit ton of fluff. Note: Read it here on AO3!

There was nothing Elain Archeron loved more than giving candy out to little kids on Halloween. Which is why she was currently sitting on her living room couch in her costume, the bowl of candy in her lap as she patiently waited for the first trick-or-treater to come.

It was the first Halloween that she’ll have spent in her new house. She’d recently moved from her studio apartment to a small, two-bedroom house just outside the city. After being promoted from teacher to principal at the elementary school she’d worked at for more than five years, Elain figured a little change was in order.

Unfortunately, the new neighborhood was a bit further from her sisters than her apartment had been. They both lived in the city, Feyre taught painting lessons at the local art store while Nesta worked as a software developer at a start-up tech company. Feyre had also recently moved; her boyfriend of only seven months, Rhysand, asked her to move in with him. Elain hadn't yet met him but from what Feyre had told her, he seemed like he treated her sister really well. But Elain would be the judge of that.

Well, more like Nesta would be the judge of that. Elain was certain that her older sister was going to interrogate the poor man until she's squeezed out his darkest secrets. Nesta had a... unique way with people. Unconventional, but it'd been effective thus far.

Tonight was particularly exciting because the couple was hosting a small Halloween bash at their place. Elain had been bugging Feyre for weeks to properly introduce Rhysand to her and Nesta. Their schedules very rarely matched up.

The doorbell rang, pulling Elain from her thoughts and back to the present. She glanced at the clock. It was four-thirty in the evening. The sun still shone bright in the sky.

She grinned to herself. Let the trick or treating commence.

Jumping up from where she sat, Elain excitedly made her way to the front of the house. She swung the door open. What she saw on her porch melted her damn heart.

A little boy, no older than six, was dressed as a firefighter. He had a tiny hard hat on his head, his chocolate hair curling out from underneath. A dalmatian stuffed animal was tucked under his arm, his other hand clutching a jack-o-lantern bucket for candy. His eyelashes were impossibly long as he looked up at her with wide eyes and a goofy smile. It was contagious.

Elain also noticed that he was alone, no adult in sight.

“Trick or treat!” the boy greeted her.

“Happy Halloween!” Elain replied with a giggle. She put her bowl of candy on the ground to kneel in front of him. She looked around. “Is someone with you?”

“Yeah,” the kid sighed like he just got out of a stressful work meeting. Elain inwardly smiled. “My daddy. But he kept talking and talking about why he thought Mounds was his favorite candy, even though it’s obviously the worst.”

The boy stopped to look at her as if waiting for her to agree. Elain nodded her head vigorously. Naturally.

“He was just talking so much,” the little boy continued. He gestured for Elain to come closer before whisper-shouting, “You know, I really think he needs a girl in his life –”

“TOBIAS!” a strong, male voice called out.

“Uh-oh,” the boy, Tobias, muttered under his breath. He looked up at Elain with pleading eyes. “Don’t let me get in trouble.”

Elain suppressed her laugh and nodded at him. “Your secret is safe with me.”

Tobias held out his pinky finger. "Pinky promise?"

"Pinky promise," Elain swore. Gods, this kid was a gem.

Elain watched as a man approached her yard. His face was twisted with frustration, presumably because his son ran away, but he was… beautiful. Elain sucked in a breath as she ran her eyes up and down his body. He was wearing a loose white shirt, slightly sheer, that had a very deep V. The sleeves were cut off messily and he wore a fake sword on his hip. He was a pirate. A sexy pirate. But it was definitely a costume that wasn't advertised as 'sexy.' No, it was the man wearing it that made it sexy. And to make it even better, he looked as if he’d thrown it on last minute when his son reminded him it was Halloween.

The man stopped in front of Tobias. He crossed his arms, paying no mind to Elain.

“You’re in big trouble."

“But –”

“We’ve talked about this, Tobias. You can’t just run away from someone when you get bored.”

Now Elain really had to hold in her laugh. She covered it with a cough.

That's when Tobias’s father realized they had an audience. He directed his authoritative stare to Elain, and his hazel eyes immediately softened. She did her best to not fidget as his eyes ran over her. He must have seen the humor on her face because his lips twitched upward.

Fucking adorable.

“Sorry about my son,” he said sincerely, shooting a glare at an oblivious Tobias from the corner of his eye. “I’m Azriel. And you are?”

“Elain," she told him with a shy smile.

“Elain,” he echoed, testing it out on his tongue. Shivers ran down Elain’s arms. His voice was like velvet. She could listen to him repeat her name over and over again for hours.

Stop being so creepy.

“You, uh –” Azriel stumbled over his words awkwardly as he tried to find the words. “I love your costume.”

Elain blushed appreciatively. But before she could thank him, Tobias groaned.

“C’mon, Daddy, that was so lame. Get her phone number or something.”

Elain clapped a hand over her mouth, shoulders shaking as she nearly lost it. It was Azriel’s turn to blush this time.

“Tobs, now’s not the time –”

“But she’s so pretty and nice! I already love her,” he pouted up at his father.

Azriel mumbled incoherent words as he tried to usher his son off the porch. “We should really go,” Azriel said, trying to avoid eye contact with her. He was so awkward. She loved it. “I’m so sorry again.”

“Wait!" Elain blurted out, trying to delay his departure. Azriel looked at her and she gave him a sheepish smile. "You forgot to grab some candy."

Tobias didn't need to be told twice. Elain held out the bowl for him to choose. He fished around for a while before picking three Skittles packages. Elain gave him a wink before turning to Azriel.

“Everyone should get candy on Halloween,” she grinned at him.

He looked at her curiously before smiling gratefully and taking a piece of candy without even looking to see the options.

“Thank you, Elain," he said, his tone sincere and soft. She nearly melted right there.

"Happy Halloween," she murmured as she watched Azriel back away, Tobias looking at his father as if he had two heads. Azriel seemed to be in a daze, giving Elain a small wave as he continued to walk backwards. He stumbled over his own feet, earning a laugh from Elain. Then, he finally turned around and walked out of sight.

---------------------------

“It’s so wonderful to meet you!” Elain exclaimed, ignoring the hand that Rhysand held out and going straight in for a hug.

“Don’t suffocate him,” Feyre joked as she watched them embrace.

Elain had arrived to their place a couple minutes early, eager to meet her sister’s boyfriend. Elain backed away to let Nesta introduced herself. Elain leaned over to Feyre.

“You didn’t tell me how cute he is,” Elain whispered with a giggle.

Feyre laughed. “Did I mention he has two brothers?”

Elain’s jaw dropped. “No, you seemed to have conveniently left that part out.”

“Well, they’ll be here soon,” Feyre said with a twinkle in her eye. “And they’re both single.”

Nesta turned to them as they laughed secretively. Rhysand followed her gaze. “What are you two giggling about?”

Before Feyre had a chance to answer, the doorbell rang. She excused herself, Rhysand right on her tail.

Elain looked over at her older sister to see her glaring down at her. “Let me guess: you guys were talking about Rhysand’s brothers.”

“How’d you know?”

Nesta let out an exasperated sigh. “She’s already tried to set me up with one of them.”

“I’m guessing it didn’t go well?”

Nesta scoffed. “Horribly. She failed to mention that he was a grade A –”

“Fancy seeing you here, sweetheart,” a low voice interrupted Nesta’s rant.

A man approached them, hands in pockets as he strutted confidently. His long brown hair was tied up in a messy bun and a five o’clock shadow on his sharp jaw. Elain watched as her sister dragged her hands down her face and groaned at the mere sight of him. That only made him chuckle deeply.

“Miss me?”

Nesta ignored his comment and reluctantly gestured to him. “Elain, this is Cassian. Cassian, this is my other sister Elain.”

Cassian shot her a goofy grin and reached out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Elain. I’ve never seen anyone rock fairy wings like you are.”

Elain couldn’t help but blush. “Thank you.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Ugh, stop charming everyone!”

“I’m irresistible, sweetheart,” Cassian batted his eyelashes.

“I need a drink,” Nesta muttered to herself before walking away and in the direction of the kitchen.

Cassian winked at Elain before following her sister. “I could use a drink too!"

Elain listened to them bicker as they walked away, a smile touching her lips.

Over the next couple hours, more and more people arrived at Rhysand and Feyre’s place. It soon got crowded, Elain unable to hear over the booming music and incessant chatter.

She was sitting on an loveseat in the corner watching Cassian trying to convince Nesta to dance with him when she heard a familiar voice.

"Sorry I'm so late, the babysitter cancelled last minute and I had to find a replacement."

Elain's head snapped to the foyer where Feyre and Rhys stood with another man. Elain got a glimpse of his face as he took off his jacket, and her suspicions were confirmed.

It was Azriel.

Elain's heart was beating out of her chest as she watched Feyre lead Azriel into the living room where she sat.

Then he spotted her.

He stopped dead in his tracks, Feyre continuing to walk and talk, not noticing that she no longer had his attention. No, his eyes were on Elain and Elain alone.

Elain gave him a little wave. Azriel's lips turned into a full out smile as he caught up to Feyre, who had been leading him to Elain anyway. Presumably to introduce him to her and Nesta.

"Azriel, this is -"

"Elain," he finished. His eyes were still on her, disbelief on his face.

Feyre looked between them confusedly. "Do you guys know each other?"

"Uh..." Elain started, unsure of what to say. "Sort of?"

"I went out with Tobias and we incidentally stopped by her house," Azriel explained.

"Well," Feyre said with a mischievous grin. "I guess I'll leave you guys to it." She shot Elain a look that said, You should make a move.

And just like that, they were alone.

Azriel took a seat beside Elain, leaving only a couple inches between them as he turned his body toward her. He smelled amazing.

"So, you're Feyre's sister, huh?" Azriel gazed at her earnestly and bumped his shoulder against hers. "I guess that means we'll be seeing a lot of each other."

Elain bit her lip to stop herself from grinning like an idiot. "No complaints here."

A comfortable silence fell between them as they watched others dancing and drinking. The current song faded out and "Creep" by Radiohead began to play.

"Would you, um... would you like to dance?" Azriel asked her tentatively.

Oh my gods, yes! What kind of question is that?

"I would love to," Elain exclaimed.

Azriel stood and held out his hand. The moment Elain took his hand with her own, she was a goner.

He led them to the makeshift dance floor before bringing her hand to his shoulder and grabbing her waist gently with his hand. Fire shot through Elain when his thumb circled idly on her palm. Then, he pulled her in close.

"This okay?" Azriel murmured, his lips brushing against her ear. She shivered and nodded.

"Did I mention," he continued, spinning them in a slow circle, "that you are absolutely gorgeous?"

Elain hid her face against his shoulder to smile widely before craning her neck to look at with him, a twinkle in her eye. "I think you were too busy tripping over your own feet to mention that."

Azriel tipped back his head and laughed loudly. She loved the sound. "You wound me, Elain," he told her, but Elain could see the faint blush in his cheeks. He leaned in to whisper, "You're right though. You make me nervous."

The music swelled, and Azriel guided both of Elain's hands to cup the back of his neck. He encircled his arms around her waist until their bodies were flush against each other, their foreheads touching.

"I like Tobias. He's a great kid."

Azriel's entire body seemed to relax as he gave her an easy smile. "He's a handful, and I love him."

"I can tell," Elain told him. "You're a good dad."

"Thank you." Azriel huffed out a laugh. "You're something else, Elain Archeron."

Elain leaned her head back and she searched his hazel eyes. "Is that a good thing?"

Something unreadable flashed in his eyes. "Yes."

And then he was capturing her lips in his to give Elain the sweetest kiss she'd ever had.

-----------------------

tag list (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @sjmships @sleeping-and-books @sirgwaines @books-for-sure @blowing-mikey @b00kworm @wineywitch202 @liquifyme @maastrash @thewayshedreamed

#halloween #my writing #fic #fanfiction #acotar #elriel #elain archeron #a court of thorns and roses

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dannypuro · 3 years

Note

You said your askbox was open so!! From Something Telling I am very invested in the mutual pining of Feuilly and Baz and just that individually they were like. Whispering their feels to their friends. I am parched for any details of. Them. If you are amenable. BYE <3

YOU!!! YOU UNDERSTAND!!!! YOU AND YOUR WONDERFUL ASKS AND GIANT COMMENTS UNDERSTAND THE IMPORTANT PARTS OF SOMETHING TELLING ma’am i owe you my life. i adore you. and yes, without further ado... A Very Long Post about the boys.

feuilly moves into bahorel’s apartment building when he first moves to france, like, five or six years before the start of Something Telling. and he doesn’t speak a lot of french at ALL, at first, because he wasn’t expecting to move, but he got an opportunity with a gallery kind of last minute and he only had time to panic and duolingo it up a little bit. but he moves into baz’s apartment building, all the way up in the tiny attic apartment, and he doesn’t hire any movers because he’s broke, and that would be fine, except the elevator breaks sometime between when he goes out to find some furniture and when he gets said furniture delivered to outside the building. and now he has to figure out how to get this stupid second-hand couch up five flights of stairs and he doesn’t even know anyone in the country he can call for help.

cue bahorel, coming back from the gym and all sweaty and gross. (nasty.) and he’s never seen feuilly before, but he is CERTAINLY seeing him now. 👁👁. and they have an awkward little conversation--all “hey, dude, do you, like, need a hand?” and poor feuilly desperately trying to remember his duolingo to figure out what the fuck this hot guy is saying to him. bahorel is instantly enamored--feuilly is fucking pretty, okay, and he’s funny and his accent is cute and baz just fucking knows feuilly’s smarter than him and he’s so fucking into it. just. he’s so into him.

and the thing is, baz is pretty sure feuilly’s maybe into him, too--he helps him drag the couch up the stairs, and they make conversation, and he thinks that he’s flirting, a little, and he’s definitely ogling baz up a bit. and, like, yeah, sure--he knows he’s hot, and feuilly’s smoking hot, in an overworked, tired, starving artist way, so... yeah. he’s totally gonna sleep with his brand-new hot neighbor.

only, then they start talking about why feuilly’s moving into the building--he tells baz that he’s new to paris, new to france, and he doesn’t know anybody, doesn’t even really speak french, and he moved for work but he doesn’t really know what he’ll do outside of that, and he’s just so! fucking! charming! and smart! and baz is like. right. well. 🥺, dude.

they get up to feuilly’s apartment (and HOOOO, feuilly’s pretty strong, actually 👁👁 wow 👁👁 what a coincidence bahorel is shredded as well👁👁 maybe we can hook up and be shredded together👁👁) and set the couch down. and bahorel looks around his empty little attic apartment and takes in his nearly-empty kitchen and his one beautiful houseplant in the middle of the room, because that’s where the most light is, and he can’t just LEAVE. not when feuilly doesn’t have any friends. feuilly’s awesome, baz already knows it! he should meet baz’s awesome friends!

only, feuilly’s kind of- feuilly’s kind of leaning in, a bit, and bahorel has hooked up with enough dudes to know when someone’s putting on the moves. and he’s SO into it, and he almost just kisses him, almost hooks up with him on the couch that they just hauled up five flights of stairs together, only-

only, if feuilly’s a one-night stand, he won’t want to meet baz’s awesome friends, and he seems so lonely. so bahorel takes one for the team. and instead of leaning in to make out with the hottest dude he’s ever met, he’s just like HEY MY FRIENDS ARE HAVING A GET-TOGETHER TONIGHT WANNA COME YOU CAN MEET THEM THEY’RE SUPER NICE AND COOL. (oh, god, he really hopes feuilly wants to.)

feuilly’s a little taken aback, for obvious reasons, but- but he does want to meet bahorel’s friends, and mostly, he wants to spend some more time with bahorel, and it’s a shame that he wasn’t reading the room right when he thought baz was into him, but, well, you can’t have everything. maybe he can’t get laid by his super-hot neighbor, but hey, if he can meet some people who don’t mind that he doesn’t actually speak french yet, and if he can get to know bahorel a little better, he’ll take it.

feuilly goes to the party. jehan adores him, obviously. feuilly doesn’t, like... get what’s up with them, yet, since he didn’t watch french media growing up and therefore missed all of their child-stardom, but he likes them just fine, anyways. jehan’s like 20 and is blazed out of their mind and is having a medieval phase (one of many). feuilly is confused, but also within 90 minutes realizes that he would INSTANTLY throw hands with ANYONE if it was for jehan’s sake. so.

jehan’s all like “go talk to grantaire! he knows all sorts of things about art! he’s working on painting me naked!” so feuilly goes to talk to the lump in the corner but like. listen. grantaire’s having a hard time. he doesn’t make an awesome first impression. not awful, just... he’s having a hard time. feuilly gets it. they become better friends a little later, mostly because bahorel keeps dragging feuilly around with him whenever he’s free. (not like feuilly minds)

but feuilly doesn’t make a move on bahorel again. because he must have misread the situation, right? otherwise they would have fucked. they’d BE fucking. too bad bahorel doesn’t like him like that. oh, well, at least they’re friends!

bahorel DOES like him like that. duh. feuilly’s awesome. but he hasn’t made a move on bahorel since that first afternoon. he’s probably just not that into bahorel, past the one-night-stand type stuff. oh, well, at least they’re friends!

life goes on. they hang out a lot. like, a LOT. they’re totally each other’s best friends. feuilly learns more french. (baz is actually super relieved when he can’t quite manage to get rid of the accent, even though he would never say so, because that would hurt feuilly’s feelings. baz tries not to act like a dick around feuilly, even though he kind of is one around other people, sometimes. he just... wants feuilly to like him.) feuilly gets absorbed into the group. he picks up another job, in addition to the work he’s doing for the gallery, and he’s making a little more money, which is good for both of them, because feuilly can afford meals that aren’t mostly rice, sometimes, and bahorel doesn’t have to spend all day every day wondering how he’s going to be able to get feuilly to let him pay for his food this time around. (if they were dating, baz thinks, if they were dating, he could take feuilly out for dinner and pay for it and pay for the wine and for the dessert, too, and feuilly wouldn’t be able to give him that look he shoots him whenever baz “accidentally” orders the wrong dish from the thai place down the road, so what if it always happens to be feuilly’s favorite, shut up, man, it’s a coincidence)

but feuilly’s making more money, so he decides to move out of his shitty attic apartment, because it kind of sucks, and it’s miniscule, and he’s an adult, damn it. he finds a new place that is marginally larger and marginally less shitty, and it’s not even that far away, just a couple blocks, and he tells baz he’ll be moving when his lease is up that year.

bahorel just wants to beg him to move in with him, but he only has the one bedroom, and feuilly’s not his fucking boyfriend. so he helps feuilly move, because he’s a good buddy, and he gets hammered with grantaire, after, because grantaire is lonely for someone he hasn’t met yet and bahorel is terrified that feuilly isn’t going to want to hang out with him now that they aren’t neighbors anymore.

feuilly, meanwhile, is across town at grantaire’s apartment (sans grantaire) getting blazed with jehan because he’s terrified that bahorel isn’t going to want to hang out with him now that they aren’t neighbors anymore. (jehan’s all 🥺You Are Always Welcome At My Humble Abode🥺 and feuilly’s very touched but he’s pretty sure he’s totally in love with bahorel and he’s scared and he’s also not sure that jehan even pays rent. so.)

they totally keep hanging out. obviously. (maybe a little bit less than they used to, but if baz thinks about that he’ll fucking cry.) bahorel feels a little bit like his heart is going to break, which is totally lame and which was not the plan when he agreed to help move a couch three years earlier. it’s just... there’s nobody like feuilly. there’s nobody even CLOSE to being like feuilly. and feuilly doesn’t like him. and so he spends a lot of time at grantaire’s place, and jehan finally gets their own apartment, so he’s free to cry into grantaire’s shoulder all he fucking wants.

feuilly goes on dates, sometimes. bahorel could totally treat him better than any of those dickheads. damn it.

bahorel hooks up with people, sometimes. feuilly could totally fuck him better than any of those dickheads. damn it.

and then grantaire gets a weird new roommate, or something. baz doesn’t know, fuck, nobody tells him jack shit. but he stops hearing from grantaire for a couple weeks, for the most part, and then he gets the party invite in the groupchat, and fuck, if there’s a housewarming party, he shall attend. feuilly mentions something to him about R’s new roomie being some philosopher, or something, but bahorel was kind of busy watching him fold up little origami flowers out of newspaper, so he missed all that. it’s cool, he’ll catch up.

apparently, grantaire’s roommate is from the 19th century. apparently, grantaire also has a massive fucking crush on him. huh.

when they first meet, feuilly and enjolras are kind of hilariously enamored by one another. not in a romantic way, just in a Very Intense Admiration type way. after they meet at the housewarming party, enjolras is like “I Must Find A Way To Speak With Feuilly Again, For He Is A Brilliant Mind And A Good Man” and combeferre is like... want me to invite him over? and enjy is like “No, I Must Pen Him A Letter. Yes. This Is A Good And Rational Plan.” (he spills coffee all over the letter right when he’s almost done and almost cries. ferre just invites feuilly over anyways.)

feuilly, of course, is freaking out about whether or not he can find a way to hang out with enjolras again. because! ahh!!! that’s François-Marie Enjolras, political revolutionary and philosopher!!!! feuilly’s read his essays like five times!!! what reason would he have to want to talk to feuilly? but also, like... he did want to talk to feuilly--at the party, he’d talked to feuilly for hours, and he’s so smart and a little funny and he’d listen to Feuilly go on and on about slavic history and he hadn’t looked bored once, and just- Ah!!!! and he’s trying to figure out if it would be weird if he asked enjolras if he’d want to meet over coffee when he gets combeferre’s text. (it’s something like, enjolras just composed a letter trying to ask you if you’d want to hang out with him do you want to come over before he uses up all of my printer paper? and then, also, don’t tell him i told you about the letter he’s kind of freaked about making a good impression) and feuilly’s just like. :o

and both grantaire and bahorel see enjolras and feuilly embarking on this sweet, awkward, smart person friendship and they’re like. Oh Shit. They’re In Love With Each Other. Shit. because of course feuilly would fall in love with enjolras--feuilly’s too smart for bahorel, anyways, baz has always known that, and it makes sense that he’d fall for someone who can keep up with him. and of course enjolras would fall in love with feuilly--feuilly is kind and super smart and he knows all sorts of things about modern philosophy and he’s hot, okay, and enjolras is too smart for grantaire, anyways. ugh. baz and R get hammered and cry about it together, but the shitty thing is that they can’t even be too angry, because it’s so obvious.

meanwhile, enjolras and feuilly are across town talking about their stupid crushes on their hot beefy friends. commiserating, yanno? feuilly’s all “sometimes i wish i just kissed him that first day i met him, sometimes i wish i hooked up with him at that party, maybe he would have started liking me after” and enjolras is all “why does he never wear shirts with SLEEVES, i do not know what to DO with myself!!!”

and then one day feuilly and baz are hanging out and baz is like “haha grantaire has the biggest crush on enjolras” (because he can’t keep a secret to save his life.) and feuilly’s like.... “grantaire likes enjolras?” and baz is like “uh YEAH dude. DUH” and feuilly’s like. “that can’t be right--enjolras told me grantaire doesn’t like him back” and baz is like... “bACK?” and then he’s like “WAIT ENJOLRAS DOESN’T LIKE YOU?” and feuilly is like... no?

they realize that their friends are idiots. and they try to help, really, they do--feuilly keeps suggesting that maybe, maybe, enjolras can’t know that grantaire doesn’t like him if he’s never actually asked, and he keeps pointing out things that grantaire does that nobody actually does if they’re not totally gone for somebody; bahorel is straight up just like “R bro enjolras wants to be your boy so bad” and R is like I Am Electing Not To Listen To You.

and then-

and then, they all go out to a bar together. they get hammered, etc. etc. and they’re laughing about how grantaire and enjolras are oblivious, how could they not know that they like each other, everybody keeps telling them to go for it, and then-

hold on.

hold on, because- because that’s what everybody tells bahorel about feuilly. that he should just go for it. that maybe it’s not as hopeless as he thinks. and feuilly’s just sitting there, and he’s so fucking pretty, sometimes, honestly, and bahorel loves him so much, and he’s drunk, and he can’t stand not knowing even a second longer.

#i'll post the bar scene later tonight hold yer horses #bahorel x feuilly #les miserables #les mis #kiaronna

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yikesharringrove · 4 years

Note

Hawkins High would have this reunion thing like all the kids who went there at the time would come like after 5 or 10 years to meet each other. So, what if Steve and Billy had something going on during highschool, but then Billy just left without saying a word to California, leaving Steve behind. They would meet each other there and Billy’s like more muscular and has a short beard. It gets Steve all hot just by looking at Billy, so they end up having sex 👀 (+ some angst too pls)

There’s smut

Steve tucked his shirt into his jeans.

He stared at himself in the mirror, sighing as he untucked it again.

He had gone through his whole suitcase at this point, trying to find something somewhat okay to wear.

He huffed as he took off his shirt.

“Can you chill?” Robin was sitting on her bed on the hotel. He had begged her to come with him, even though she had no interest in going to the reunion. “It’s not like anyone that matters will be there.”

“Really? You’re not hoping to see,” he put on a dreamy breathy voice. “Tammy Thompson?”

She threw a pillow at him.

“Guarantee you Tammy Thompson is doing better things than going to the fucking Hawkins High School reunion.”

“Well, whatever those better things are, it certainly isn’t fucking country music.” She threw another pillow at him. He tugged on a new shirt.

This one was nicer, fit a little better. He nodded once.

“Are you finally ready? It’s been hours Steve. The reunion’s probably over.” Steve threw the pillows back at her.

They checked in at the front table, getting their name tags and proceeding into the gym.

Steve made a beeline for the bar, getting two shots to loosen himself up. He got himself and Robin some drinks, and mingled.

He and Tommy had reconnected a few years ago, met up for coffee when Tommy was in Chicago one day.

He clapped Steve on the back when they hugged.

“You look good, man.”

“Hey, you too. Where’s Carol tonight?”

“Oh, she’s all sick.” Steve stared at him. He grinned. “She’s knocked up! We’re having a fucking baby. Can you believe that?” Steve hugged him again. “So, when are you two gettin’ hitched?”

Steve looked at Robin, and they both burst out laughing.

“Oh, we are not together!” Tommy furrowed his brows.

“Haven’t you two lived together since fucking high school?”

“I mean, on and off, mostly. But we’re, uh, not compatible.”

They had each moved in with significant others through the years, but when everything got messy, they ended up right back together.

The evening ended up being, pretty alright.

Robin rolled her eyes when Steve said that, but she didn’t complain, so Steve called it a win.

They were out on the dance floor, tearing it up like it was still ‘85.

Steve was laughing with some asshole he used to be on the swim team with when his locked on the gym doors.

His mouth went fucking dry.

Billy Hargrove was standing there, looking cool as ever, and hot as all fuck in a tight henley.

His hair was short, and he had a fucking beard.

Steve turned around, ordering himself two more shots.

Last time he saw Billy he was tugging on his jeans, was kissing Steve on the forehead and was tiptoeing downstairs, boots in his hand.

He left the next day.

Steve did not want to deal with this right now.

It had taken him years to move on from Billy, taken him fucking years of crying into his pillow and letting beefy blond guys fuck him in dirty bar bathrooms.

Four STD scares and a lot of wine later,he was over Billy. Completely and totally over him.

And here he was, looking at Steve and biting his bottom lip, and Steve was totally not over him.

Billy swaggered up to him, leaning against the bar, his shirt pulling across him pecs.

He was fucking jacked. Definitely bigger than he had been in high school.

He tossed a leather jacket down, ordering a scotch for himself.

“Long time no see, Stevie.” Steve slammed both his shots.

“Yeah. ‘Bout ten years, Hargrove.” He pushed off the bar.

He was itching for a smoke. Had quit about four years ago, but something about Billy brought back all those cravings, all those memories of sitting in bed, sharing a Marlboro even though Steve hated them, their fingers brushing on each pass.

He pushed out of the gym, leaning against the brick wall outside.

He scoffed at the alleyway where Nancy shattered his already broken heart.

“Steve,” Billy’s voice was soft.

“I don’t wanna hear it.” He refused to look at him.

“I just wanna talk.”

“Oh, so you finally learned how.” Billy huffed.

“I should’ve told you I was leaving.” Steve made a face at him.

“Oh, you should’ve?”

“Look, I’m sorry.”

“Great. Thanks.” He tapped his foot. “Jesus, you have a cigarette?” Billy rifled through his pockets.

And pulled out a pack of teal American Spirits.

“God. You’ve gone soft.” Billy shook his head, lighting two in his mouth, passing one to Steve. He had several piercings in each ear now.

“Trying to cut back.” Steve took the cigarette.

“I quit years ago.”

“Well, sorry to break your streak.”

“Something about you makes me need a fuckin’ cigarette.” He took a long drag. “You and smoking just go together in my brain I guess.”

“I was hittin’ it hard back then. Probably always just smelled like smoke.”

“I always liked the way you smelled.”

And maybe it was the shots Steve had knocked back, or the way Billy’s earrings glinting in the light, but Steve leaned in, taking a strong whiff of his collar.

“Still like it?” Billy was smirking at him.

“Liked it better with the Marbs.”

“Well, two packs a day was probably gonna make me keel over soon.” He smiled when Steve huffed a laugh. “So, how are you? What have you been up to?”

“Jesus, we really doin’ this?” Billy shrugged at him. “I’m good. I’m in Chicago now. I’m an E.R. nurse.” Billy smiled at him.

“Good for you.”

“What are you doing? Since we’re making weird small talk now.”

“Been here and there. Worked in garage for a while, waited tables. Stripped too. I’m an English teacher now, if you can believe it.”

“Oh, come on. You act like I don’t know you. I mean, fuck, how many times were you my own personal English teacher?” Billy looked down, ashing his cigarette.

“You’re actually why I decided to study it. I’m in a high school now.”

“Bet you’re the teacher everyone gets crushes on. Get love notes on your desk, and all that.” Billy laughed, rolling his eyes.

“Nah. I’m a little more tough lovin’ than that. Don’t take any shit.”

“You’re too soft for that. Don’t front.” Billy smiled, looking down at his feet.

“One a’ my kids has pretty bad dyslexia. Parents won’t do shit about it. Makes me think a’ you.”

“Shoulda seen me when I got to college. Diagnosed myself.”

“Nurse Harrington for the win, then.” Steve laughed, smoke pouring outta his mouth. He stubbed out his cigarette.

“Where are you living now?”

“Santa Monica.”

“Explains the tan.”

“C’mon, Baby. I’m always this golden.” He smirked, waggling his tongue at Steve.

And it was like being back in high school, with Billy teasing him on the basketball court.

And Steve didn’t think, just grabbed the lapels of his jacket, smashing their mouths together.

Billy leaned into it, holding Steve’s face between his palms, pushing him with his body against the wall.

His beard scratched against Steve’s skin, lit a fire in his gut.

“Where you stayin’ in town?”

“Shitty motel.”

“Take me.” Billy’s eyes were wide in the dark. He nodded vigorously.

Billy pulled him by the wrist to the parking lot, dragging him to his car.

The same car he had in high school.

The blue Camaro still smelled the same, and when Steve turned around, the backseat was still sporting that stain, a little white smudge of Billy’s cum that had dripped out of Steve.

He smiled to himself as Billy started the car.

He put one hand on Steve’s thigh as they roared through town, heading down the service road.

Billy pulled into the motel. Was back on Steve in a second.

Steve danced out of reach, slipping out of the car with a coy smile.

Billy shook his head as he unlocked the door.

He pushed Steve onto the bed, climbing on top of him.

They wasted no time, tearing at one another’s clothes.

Billy pulled off his shirt, and Steve stared, brushing his fingers over his chest piece, a deer with white roses tangled in it’s antlers.

“Pretty.” Billy smiled down at him as he traced it. It was black and white, hyper realistic.

Billy leaned over him, kissing at his neck, trailing down his collar bone.

“You think ahead? Condoms? Lube?” Billy looked up at him.

“Who do you think I am? Was fuckin’ praying you’d be at that thing.” He kissed down his body.

Steve worked one hand into his hair, holding on while Billy swallowed up his cock.

“Holy shit.” He tossed his head back, one of Billy’s hands coming up to hold his own.

It was so easy, falling back into their old ways.

Billy knew just how to play his body. He got him hard and leaking in a second, moved his tongue so well, sucking Steve down.

“So good at this. ‘d forgotten.” He hadn’t forgotten how good Billy made him feel, doesn’t think he ever could. Just tried to push that shit away until he didn’t spend all of his waking hours thinking about him.

Billy mouthed down his dick, moving to suck lightly on his balls, spreading Steve’s legs open, and licking over his hole.

He pushed his tongue inside of him, sucking on his rim.

His beard was rough against Steve;s inner thighs, but he kinda loved it. Didn’t even mind the lame little pornstache Billy had grown in the summer.

Steve squirmed.

He hadn’t been with anyone in a while, didn’t get a lot of time off from work to date and fuck.

“Billy, just fuck me.”

“Haven’t tasted your sweet little ass in years, Pretty Boy.“

“Yeah? And who’s fault is that.” Billy sat up, looking at Steve as sincerely as he could with spit down his chin.

“You know, I really am sorry about that.”

“Billy, let’s just, talk about this later, okay?” Billy chewed on his bottom lip. Steve pushed his head back down.

He didn’t want to think for a moment, didn’t want to think about benders and crying at Robin while he threw up tequila and rainbow pills.

He let Billy work him open with his tongue and two of his fingers, let him dig into his prostate and bring Steve right to the edge.

Billy pulled off him, digging in a suitcase for a stack of condoms, a few little packets of lube.

He crawled back on top of Steve, rolling on a condom.

Steve spread his legs, rubbing the side of his knee against Billy’s torso.

Billy lined up, and pushed inside.

They both moaned as he bottomed out, his hips pressing flush to Steve’s ass.

He pulled out, his cock heavy, stretching Steve wide.

He rolled his hips, propping himself up with both hands on either side of Steve’s head.

Steve wrapped his legs around his waist, so much thicker than he was in high school. He felt up Billy’s body, feeling hard muscle before wrapping his arms around his shoulders.

“Missed your pretty sounds.” He was back on Steve’s neck, sucking bruises into the skin. “No one has ever made me feel as fucking crazy as you.” And he began fucking into him faster, harder. “Can you still cum with nothin’ but a cock in your ass?”

“Yeah. Been a minute, but if you-” he cut himself off with a moan, back arching as Billy shifted, hitting that perfect little spot.

He was all breathy, his voice high in his throat, eyes wide.

Billy was smirking at him, had doubled down, started going harder, rougher.

“I’m gonna-” He didn’t finish his sentence before he was cumming, his whole body going tight.

It seemed like he was cumming for fuckin’ hours, eyes squeezing shut as he made a mess of himself.

Billy was painting when he floated back into his body, had spilled out into the condom.

He kissed Steve’s temple.

“Fuckin’ beautiful.”

Steve closed his eyes, pretended for a minute that Billy had never left.

“Why did you leave?”

Billy was quiet. Steve still had his eyes closed.

Billy warmth was gone, and Steve cracked one eye enough to see Billy’s retreating back. He went to the bathroom, and Steve could hear the faucett.

He came back, the condom disposed of, and a towel warm and wet for Steve.

He cleaned him up, just like he used to.

“My dad kicked me out. Didn’t have a whole lotta choice in the matter.”

They had been planning a summer together. Were planning on hanging out at the mall and going to the drive in, and being stupid dumb kids.

“You could’ve called.” or asked me to come with you.

“Figured it’d be best if we just went our separate ways. Clean break.” Steve went still.

He was up in a second, shoving his clothes back on.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Fuck you, Hargrove.” He didn’t look at Billy.

“Steve-”

“No. It was not a clean break. It was messy and shitty, and I was over you. It took me fucking years, but I did it.” He wiped at his eyes. “Can’t believe I was so stupid, let you back into my life. What the fuck was I thinking?”

He jammed his shoes on, marching to the door.

Billy hadn’t moved from his spot on the bed.

“Have a nice life, or whatever.”

He slammed the door behind him.

It took him seven minutes of walking, and eighteen minutes of sitting next to the road crying his eyes out before he shoved a few quarters into a payphone.

Robin was back at their hotel room. He knew she was mad at him for ditching her, but when she heard the tightness in his throat, she softened, agreeing to pick him up.

“I fucking hate myself.”

Steve had his head pressed against the window.

“Steve, it’s okay-”

“No, it’s not. It took me so long to move on, and now, now I’m right back at square one.”

“This isn’t square one. You’ve done this before, you can get through it again.”

“But at what cost? I should’ve told him to fuck off. Not given him the time of day.”

“You’d feel just as shitty if you had done that.”

And he knew she was right.

She was always right.

He settled lower into his seat, let her take him back to their hotel, to his neatly packed suitcase and plane tickets for the morning.

He tried pushing Billy out of his mind.

Already had plenty of practice.

And all he wanted was blue eyes and a cigarette.

#yikes writes #lemons #steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #harringrove #harringrove fic #harringrove ficlet #harringrove drabble

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sugarbutterbroadway · 4 years

Text

Of all the planets and moons and stars you're the most beautiful to me

hello you guys! this was a high school teachers fic requested by @johnnyboy879 so I hope it was up to par!

David Jacobs was a very anxious man, reliable but yet very anxious. He liked his routine,liked knowing exactly what was going to happen and when, so he could be ready. So, he felt inclined to extend this same grace to his students. There were no pop quizzes, no surprise tests, none of that sadistic evil. In the far corner of his classroom sat a calendar filled from September until June with everything they would be covering, and anyone who had taken Mr.Jacobs Astronomy class could tell you just that, for better or for worse.

He was kind,he was fair and sometimes he had it in him to try and be funny, but he was plain. Sure, his students liked him. But he was nobody’s favorite teacher, he had learned that early on with his first class here. It had stung a little bit at first with him being so bright eyed and eager to teach, but it was fine. He was here to educate, not be socially accepted.

Sure he would like to be socially accepted, by one staff member in particular but it was fine. He was fine with eating lunch alone in his classroom even though Mr.Kelly was right next door. He was fine leaving immediately after the staff meetings, and never being directly invited to smaller gatherings. It was fine and he was fine, he had his routine after all. His routine that he loved and cherished and quite honestly kept him sane.

So he’s not exactly sure how he found himself knocking on Mr.Kelly’s door during his free period. Well, he is sure how he got there. He heard someone crying, he waited, they continued and with panic heavy in his heart he got up and marched himself to the next room over. He’s just not sure why exactly he followed through. He heard teachers crying all the time, public schools with grubby bathrooms,asshole students and little funding will do that to a person. When the door wasn’t opened, he began to grow worried. Maybe it's because Mr.Kelly always looked so damn happy and content, but this just didn’t seem like him. It made Davey feel sick. He knocked again, and again, before peeking through the little window. Mr.Kelly was curled in a ball with his back against his desk and boy did Davey understand. He also understood how much it sucked to deal with that alone. With all the courage he could muster, he pushed open the door. The minute he was inside, the crying stopped. Maybe he just made a grave mistake and ruined and chance he had to talk to Mr.Kelly. Maybe this would spread like wildfire and he would end up even more alone, maybe have to switch schools. But the minute his eyes locked with Mr.Kelly’s, he knew he couldn’t just leave him.

They both didn’t speak. But Davey slowly walked over to the desk, lowered himself to the floor and pulled his knees up to his chest beside Mr.Kelly. it wasn’t the showy speech he had prepared in his head, but it was solidarity, and maybe that was all he needed, to know that he wasn’t in this alone.

The two sat in silence for the remainder of the free period. When the bell rang, signalling the next period Davey got up to leave. A hand on his wrist stopped him and he resisted the urge to flinch, it was just Mr.Kelly. He halted.

“Thank you”Mr.Kelly said, “I...let me take you out to lunch, maybe explain what just happened?”

Davey felt his chest bloom and he smiled. “I would like that, i’m free most days-”

“How about today?”Mr.Kelly asked, his face tinted red. “I’m sorry if that was forward but I ain’t known for bein subtle”

“And i’m not known for being spontaneous, but I find myself agreeing”He giggled, and hold on, he’s never giggled a day in his teaching life. “I’ll see you after school, Mr.Kelly”

“Please”Mr.Kelly scoffed, “My father is Mr.Kelly, call me Jack”

Jack. Jack Kelly. It was as perfect a name as the man who possessed it.

“Then call me Davey”he said, “I’ll see you Jack, I gotta go teach these rugrats astronomy”

“Astronomy,”Jack said in awe. “You’s an intellectual or somethin?”

Davey blushed, “I guess you could say that”

“I could listen to you talk all day, Davey”Jack said, and boy did his name sound sweet on those lips.

“Flattery gets you nowhere”He said raising a brow, “You’ll hear me talk later Jack, goodbye”

And Davey left the classroom laughing as Jack sputtered lame excuses for him to stay just a bit longer. He took a minute outside of his own door to collect himself and let out a little squeal. He thanked every god and star he knew the name of as he entered his classroom, wide grin and all. His students gave him a funny look but he brushed it off.

“Alright class”He said, and cleared his throat trying to knock off some of the glee. “Open your books to page…”

Even though his feet stayed on the ground, his head was up in the clouds the entire lesson. He was getting lunch with Mr.Kelly--no, he was getting lunch with Jack. the Jack he’d had his eye on since he got here, the one he now knew was a huge flirt, and so sweet and human. Maybe he should be practicing with his English degree because this was the perfect Muse to teach poetry about! He leaned his elbows on his desk and resisted the urge to become a huge cliche and sigh dreamily. He was getting lunch with Jack Kelly, and he couldn’t wait.

#newsies #broadway #jack kelly #newsies broadway #davey newsies #jack kelly x david jacobs #astronomy teacher! Davey #Art teacher! Jack

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faintly-macabre-the-which · 4 years

Text

STRENGTH OF WILL

@imdeadtiredtm

Dash was by no means an academic. He only remained a student at Casper High due to his extraordinary talent as a quarterback on the school team (although when compared to the wimps who try out every year, even that guy from Honey, I Shrunk the Kids would seem like a star athlete.) Everyday before school, Dash did fifty push-ups and everyday after, one-hundred jumping jacks, on top of whatever warm-ups and mandatory work-out sessions the coach had planned for the week. During class, Dash does crunches in the back row and during his free period he does pull-ups on the library shelves, because he will be the strongest and the best! God is strength and Dash will worship Him until he may BECOME STRENGTH. He also beats kids up, as a reward for all his hard work.

So it should come as no surprise that Dash’s favorite class is gym, and that when it was interrupted by some lame-ass ghost, he was a tad frustrated.

Ghosts, yeah. They just sort of happened about a year ago. The only good thing to come out of it is Phantom. Who is Phantom, you ask? Only the smartest, most awesomest, most practical, most beautiful ghost in the whole world! He’s got anime-white hair (awesome) and ALWAYS shows up to beat the crap out of other ghosts, and Dash loves him.

But apparently, Phantom was too busy to save the school today, because he didn’t show.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny Phantom Fenton hated sports and jocks and being alive in general, so it worked out for him when gym class got interrupted by a ghost and he could duck behind a cart of basketballs, temporarily kill himself, kick some ghost ass, and then reanimate himself. It’s a very elaborate way of playing dead, but ghost-type vs. ghost-type violence has worked out so far —

Except today’s the day where that ends, because Dash (a jock, ugh) is hiding behind the basketball cart and Paulina’s in the sports closet and the doors out of the gym are locked but there are people running through the halls anyway, and HOW IS HE SUPPOSED TO OFF HIMSELF WITH AN AUDIENCE????

But Danny can’t just stand by. The ghost tossed three people into a wall and a fourth into the basketball net and Danny can tell their deaths are not temporary and —

He does the only logical thing; charge the ghost as an alive human boy, screeching at a pitch that would give Mr. Lancer a migraine, and kick some ghost ass.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Get your own hiding spot, Fentoilet!” was all Dash had to say when that nerd Danny Fenton tried to shove in on Dash’s prime cowering place behind the basketball cart. He watched between balls as Danny ran through their flying classmates, looking for somewhere to hide. Dash caught a glimpse of Danny’s terrified face and laughed so hard he fell into the cart. Unfortunately, the cart had wheels, and as the balls tumbled off, the cart rooooolllled slllooooowwwwly iiiiinntttoooo the path of the ghost. Unless Phantom decided to make a last-minute appearance, Dash was done for.

And then Fenton charged the ghost! He crashed into its side and knocked it over. Fenton’s shoes steamed from the friction and the ghost stared at him in shock as Fenton pulled a soup thermos from his pocket (men’s jeans), which sucked in the ghost (the thermos, not the jeans, which Fenton really should’ve changed out of before gym.) Wiping blood from his split lip, Fenton stood, and the gym cheered.

Screw Phantom. Sure he had superpowers and a heroic vibe but Fenton — Danny had strength.

Dash ran up to Danny. “Bro, that was awesome!” he said, patting Danny on the back.

Danny fell over.

“Ha ha, thanks,” Danny said.

“No, legit, dude, I’ve never seen anything like it. You just ran right at it, saved my life… I mean, I’d totally be dead if not for you. That’s some Phantom-level sh—”

“It’s no big deal! Really!” Danny forced his face into something resembling a smile. Dash didn’t know why he was being so difficult. It was just a compliment.

“We should hang out some time, play football, wedgie losers — or is that offensive, since you’re a loser?”

“It’s really fine.”

“But you—”

“Oh, look, Tucker’s calling me! Gotta run!” And run Danny did. He was shockingly fast, with him being a loser and having burned off the soles off his shoes.

I really bungled this one, Dash thought. If only I could get us a meet-cute, like in my romcoms, but that would mean we haven’t met yet…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny was getting real sick of Dash. You save a guy’s life once, and now he won’t leave you alone! Everyone else had forgotten Danny’s “epic” feat in like, fifteen minutes, and though he’d enjoyed the fame while it lasted, he was not enjoying the after-effects.

When Dash had talked to Danny that first time, Danny’s only thought was, “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!” But now, all he could think was, “AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!” and he was pretty close to saying it, too.

So when Dash sat down next to Danny in the cafeteria, claiming everywhere else was full even though there were many other empty seats at this table alone, Danny broke. And he punched Dash.

And of course everyone saw, and the nerds started worshipping him and the geeks started praying to him and a few teachers tried to high-five him (by far the worst offensive) and God this is why he always killed himself before he did anything remotely noteworthy!

And the whole punching thing didn’t even work because the next day Dash was back with a black eye and a bouquet of roses.

Danny slammed his locker closed and asked, “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you’re strong! And I like strong,” Dash said.

“I’m not strong,” Danny said. He tried to reopen his locker because he’d forgotten to actually get anything from it. Dash opened it for him. “See? I can’t even open my own locker.”

“You can be strong in other ways! You just charged that ghost and punched my face because it’s what you had to do. That’s strength of will.” And with that, Dash turned around and marched away.

“Huh,” Danny said. “That was strange.” He turned back to his locker to take out his history folder, but Dash crashed into the locker, closing it.

“Sorry! I forgot to give these to you!” Dash shoved the roses in Danny’s face, opened his locker, and sped away. “STRENGTH OF WILL!”

#Danny Phantom #Holiday Truce

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susspirria · 4 years

Text

Make Me - Chapter One

Pairing: Handsome Jack/Rhys

Summary: After Rhys' bratty misbehavior and need for attention nearly causes a minor scandal for Hyperion, Jack takes him on a vacation to his private cabin in Promethea for a much needed attitude adjustment.

Tags/Warnings: Bratting,BDSM Scene,Dom/sub,Daddy Kink,Cock Cages,Suspension,Rough Sex,SpankingImpact Play,Orgasm Delay/Denial,Sex Toys Under Clothing Aftercare,Blindfolds,Masochism,Sadism,Come Marking,Creampie,Public Humiliation,Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Bondage

(Read here on ao3 or under the cut!)

Even after being Handsome Jack’s protege and pretty little pet for nearly three years, Rhys could never get used to how mercurial and hectic the older man’s schedule was. He could never help getting his hopes every time the two of them made plans together, only to get miserable and disappointed when Jack would end up canceling on them.

This day was no different, which was incredibly disappointing because Rhys had really gone all out for Jack this time. They had planned a night in, a romantic dinner and some private time together he had cooked a three course meal that consisted of: A tomato bisque as an appetizer, lemon chicken piccata as a main course and a vanilla panna cotta for dessert. He had dressed himself up in silk and lace lingerie underneath his best suit, so that Jack would be in for a pleasant surprise when he finally got Rhys undressed. He had been really looking forward to sitting in the older mans’ lap, having Jack fawn over him like he was something special. He always did, he loved when Jack was able to pay him attention and spoil him – he had been so deprived of it lately and it was driving him up the wall. Jack knew that, and he had promised that he would make all those late nights and canceled plans up to him.

Rhys waited in their penthouse, “casually” posing himself in a way that he hoped looked sexy to the older man on the love seat in their living room – so that he would be one of the first things that Jack saw when he strode through the front door. And he waited, and waited… and waited. As patiently as he could, but after a while, he got sick and tired of waiting and decided to send Jack a message.

[To Jack: Hey handsome, where are you? I’m already all dressed up and I got everything ready for you ;)]

After about five minutes – which, in Rhys’ mind was way too long of a wait – he finally got his response.

[From Jack: Sorry princess cant make it. Emergenc meeting w/Jakobs]

Rhys sighed in disappointment, before he started typing away – trying not to call Jack up and chew him out. It was the third time that something like this had happened this month alone and he was getting sick of it.

[To Jack: What, seriously? What the hell, Jack, we’ve been planning this for weeks!]

[From Jack: U know how those idiots are Ill make it up to you I promise bby 😘😘 😘]

Rhys sincerely doubted that, as far as he was concerned Handsome Jack’s promises held very little weight. He pouted and threw his comm down on the bed, letting it bounce of a few inches away from him. “Whatever.” He mumbled to himself, before he grabbed his comm again and decided to dial up Fiona and Sasha. He could have hung out with Vaughn, but that would have just been another chill night in and that was the opposite of what he wanted. He wanted to get so drunk that he could forget about how miserable being stood up by his boyfriend – again – made him feel.

Fiona answered the phone on the second ring, “What do you want, Rhys?” She said, instead of greeting him like a person, in a tired and grumpy sounding tone of voice.

Rhys pursed his lips at that, “Hello to you too, Fiona!” He replied, just as snide and sarcastic as she came off. “I’m doing great thanks for asking, you’re such a kind and considerate friend. Love that for you.” He bitterly sniped at her.

Fiona laughed sarcastically in reply to that. “Thanks, I try.” She said, “But seriously, why are you calling me in the middle of the night?” She asked, “You never call anymore…unless you want something.” She reminded him, speaking in a wistful sort of tone. Usually when he wanted to do something suspect or morally questionable things, he would call her or Sasha up. It wasn’t like Fiona was blaming him, though, it wasn’t like he could ask Vaughn or Yvette if either of them wanted to go to the up over bar, get blackout drunk and scam some scavengers out of their life savings. That was something that only the three of them could do together.

Rhys was quiet for a few moments, “…Jack stood me up.” He admitted. He was pretty sure that Fiona could hear him pouting all the way from Elpis.

“Again?” She asked, amusement obvious in her tone of voice. “Why don’t you just dump him at this point, if he neglects you so much?” She added, with some mock pity.

“What, no!” He snapped back, “No, I just-” He cut himself off with a pitiful whine. “He’s been so busy! It’s been at least weeks since we’ve had some personal time together. I’m getting so-”

“I really don’t want to know about your-” Fiona attempted to interrupt.

“Lonely.” Rhys finished lamely. “Agh! He sucks so much, he always does this. I just… are you guys still on Elpis?” He asked hopefully.

“Yes…?”

“You want to hang out?” He asked, in a pleading tone. “We could go to the up over bar. See what kind of fancy cocktails they have there this week.” He added, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Depends.” Fiona replied. “Are you buying?”

“Jack’s buying.” Rhys said with a smirk as he fiddled with the black card that Jack had gifted him a few months back.

The Up Over Bar looked nearly identical to when it had been run by Moxxi. The only difference is that Moxxi wasn’t sitting behind the bar. The cocktails were the same, the atmosphere was the same, every single thing was the same. Rhys loved coming here, it was comforting to him and the cocktails were great. When Rhys arrived at the bar, Fiona and Sasha were sitting there in wait for him at one of the booths. Sasha waved him over and loudly exclaimed his name. Rhys skipped over to them and greeted them with as much enthusiasm as he could manage with how low he felt.

Both of the sisters had a bad habit of, for as long as Rhys had known them and they had been friends with each other, encouraging his worst behaviors. So, when Rhys had gotten a few bottles of the most expensive liquor that Jack’s credit card could buy and suggested that they do shots they had – of course – agreed heartily to it. It didn’t take them long to regret that, because soon enough, Rhys was falling over drunk and dancing on tables with strangers – and even then the two of them kept on encouraging him to make a fool of himself for their own entertainment.

It didn’t take long for Rhys’ behavior to spiral out into something that they couldn’t do much damage control over – and soon enough the three of them were thrown out of the bar for the night. Rhys flipped off the guard as he was escorted outside and giggled at the brawny looking man when he shook his head at Rhys. Then he turned to Fiona, “You guys want to do some shopping?” He asked and then, eyeing their clothes. “I can get you guys something new to wear.” He added, “Looks like you need it.”

“God, just shut up, Rhys.” Sasha said.

Fiona just rolled her eyes, “Why don’t we get something to eat.” She suggested, looking at the way that sloppy Rhys was carrying himself with a lot of judgment. “Especially you.” She added, equally judgmental.

Rhys sighed and made a big show of rolling his eyes. “Okay, fine.” He said, before he was led along to a little twenty four hour diner in the middle of Concordia. The three of them sat down at the bar, and soon enough Rhys was recognized by a well dressed man donned in hues of yellows and blues – Maliwan colors, he thought. Probably a Maliwan rep. “Hey, I know you!” one of them said, as he slotted himself between Rhys and his friends. It was rude and Fiona commented as much, but she was ignored by them. “You’re Handsome Jack’s… assistant, right?” He guessed.

Rhys nodded even though calling him Jack’s assistant wasn’t completely accurate, and smiled as politely as he could with how drunk he was and ordered a bunch of carb-ladened foods from the bot manning the diner, so that he could have a little of everything. Maliwan guy continued on, laying it on incredibly thick. Rhys smiled at that, remembering fondly the way that Jack kept a hand on Rhys’ hip – holding him close and possessive as he condescended to the other CEO’s and big wigs of the other corporations. Then his mood soured as he thought of how distant he was now.

“God, I can’t imagine what it’s like working for Handsome Jack.” Maliwan Guy commented in a wistful sort of way. “It must be amazing. And terrifying. And amazing!” He was really was laying it on thick.

Rhys rolled his eyes and let out a little scoff, like even the concept of admiring or fearing Jack was entirely ridiculous. “Not really. He’s such a prick.” He said, without even thinking about it.

Maliwan Guy’s eyes narrowed in an almost predatory fashion, like he had been aiming for something like this to happen. “Really?” He said, with a bad imitation of sympathy lacing his voice, “Why would you say that?” He asked.

That didn’t sound good to Sasha and she decided to intervene. “Okay Rhys, I know you’re mad at Jack – I don’t blame you, either, but maybe you should calm down a bit.” Sasha suggested, realizing that this would probably not end well for him if this guy was even half as skeevy as he looked. For all they knew, he could be trying to wrangle Rhys into drinking roofied cocktails or filming blackmail material. Anything was possible, considering his very public status as Handsome Jack’s boyfriend.

Rhys shrugged her off, “N-no! You wanna know about Handsome Jack, I’ll tell ya all about Handsome Jack.” He said, pulling the man – what was his name again? Had Rhys even asked? He could barely remember – closer to him. “I’ll tell ya the whole stoooory jus’- uh, just hear me out.” He promised, putting his hand on the other mans chest in an overly friendly manner for how little he knew the man.

“Great!” Maliwan guy answered, with a smug smile spreading across his face. “I’d love to hear all about it.” He added, in a bad attempt at a comforting tone of voice. It was obviously fake, but Rhys was a little too drunk to think of it as anything other than genuine concern for him.

“Oh god.” Fiona mumbled to herself, while Rhys ranted away at what a terrible, useless, boyfriend Handsome Jack was, not noticing the fact that he was being filmed by Maliwan guy. He wasn’t even trying hard to hide the fact that he was. Sasha put her face in her hands, just as mortified as her sister was. The two of them didn’t let that go on for more than a few minutes before they decided to seriously intervene.

“What. Nooooo, you guys are so booooooring! I wanna have more fun here.” He argued, weakly trying to pull them off of him. Fiona and Sasha shrugged him off like he was nothing, “I wanna drink more, and – and dance and shit.” He added in a simpering tone. “I thought you guys were fun…”

They pointedly ignored any of his argumentations. “I think you’ve had enough tonight.” Sasha said, manhandling him around with little regard for his sense of personal space or boundaries. “Of everything.”

“He’s gonna kill you.” Fiona told him as she and Sasha dragged him back to the shuttle. “You know that, right?”

“Whooooo’s gonna kill me?” He drunkenly asked, lolling his head to the side sleepily. The two sisters gave each other a look and the two of them made the journey back to Rhys’ apartment in almost total silence. Once they finally got there, they deposited him on his bed and sternly told him to drink some water and prepare to deal with the consequences of his stupid, drunken actions.

Rhys was still cognizant – and petty – enough that, once he was alone in the penthouse, he decided to send Jack a few more angry messages.

[To Jack: I hate u ur suck a jerk] [> such!!! ur such a jerk] [> u leftttt me alll alon e aga in]

Then Rhys set up his camera, taking a few photos of him in the lingerie, before he stripped out of it for the night. After he sent the photos, he sent Jack a few more messages.

[To Jack: ths is wat u missed o ut on,,, asshole] [> hav fukkin fun @ werk I gues u fukin dik]

He passed out, with his comm pressed to his face, before he managed to send Jack another incredibly aggressive ‘goodnight.’ message. It was probably for the best that he did.

Jack stood, with blood caking his fingernails as he interrogated the paparazzi scum that was in front of him. The idiot had burst into his office, with a smug expression on his face as he declared that he had some unflattering material on Rhys – and if he didn’t want it to get out to the rest of the world, then he better pay up. It was hilarious, in a pathetic and stupid sort of way. This small time loser trying to extort him – trying to extort Handsome Jack of all people – with a few measly photos and some videos.

Needless to say, Jack had shot him in the leg and tied him to a chair. He decided to take his time with this one – just for managing to get his attention, and pissing him off while he was at it. By the time that Jack was done with him, he was nothing more than gristle and bone – a husk strapped to the chair, still twitching as his dead body rattled. “Rhysie.” Jack breathed into his echo as he took practically hyperventilated from the adrenaline that was rushing through him. He always felt rejuvenated after a kill. “Get up to my office, cupcake. I got a surprise for ya!” He laughed, looking at the dead creep in front of him and then down at his bloody clothes. “It’s a killer.”

It wasn’t like Hyperion – or him – was in any real danger, at least not from that idiot. But it could have been, if Rhys had been unfortunate enough to talk to a slightly more intelligent moron. So Jack decided to call Rhys up for a much needed attitude adjustment. Rhys didn’t notice anything off in his tone and grumbled, “It’s my day off though…” He said and Jack could practically hear him pouting and rolling over in bed, cocooning himself further into the covers as he tried to block out Jack’s demanding tenor.

Jack’s tone turned serious, demanding and domineering – just how Rhys always liked him. “I’m not asking you, princess.” He said, “I’m telling you. Y’know, as your boss.” He reminded him. Rhys grumbled a bit before he hung up. He was at the door in nearly five minutes.

Rhys walked in and looked at the sight in front of him. He made a concerted effort to appear as if he was unperturbed by the sight of the paparazzi – beaten and bloody, tied to a chair. He made himself stand tall and pull a straight face. He knew that he was in trouble and he was more excited for a punishment than he – maybe – should have been. “You wanted to see me, Jack?” He asked, with a bit of attitude on the edge of his tone. He couldn’t help it. The words, “So do you finally have enough time for me now?” lay on the tip of his tongue, unspoken but clear in the tension that sat between them.

Jack snorted and mumbled, “Spoiled little brat.” underneath his breath before he addressed Rhys. “Get over here. I’m not gonna ask you again.” He said in a harsh tone – one that old Rhys that he was in trouble and it would only get worse if he didn’t take his punishment with a smile. He beckoned the younger man forward his hand.

Rhys walked over to him, only slightly nervous about what was gonna happen to him – he was still a little drunk and still feeling petty and bitter towards Jack. He had wanted to punish the older man for neglecting him and it seemed that all he managed to accomplish was getting himself punished. Oh well, Rhys thought, it wasn’t like he had to go and make it easy on Jack.

Jack didn’t say a word – just gave Rhys a vaguely threatening and unimpressed look as Rhys made his way over to stand in front of him. Jack put his hands on Rhys’ shoulders, a gesture that was falsely comforting and gentle. “You wanna know what I did this morning?” He asked. Rhys just glared at him – giving him the silent treatment like he always did whenever Jack upset him. That was fine, seeing as Jack wasn’t expecting an answer anyways. “I had to spend all fucking morning cleaning up your mess.” Then he gestured towards the dead man, “Next time you’re pissed at me, try not to tell the whole fucking galaxy about it.”

Rhys didn’t look impressed with his scare tactics, he understood that – at least when it came to him – Jack was more bark than he was bite. He figured that that was just one of the perks of having the most hated man in the galaxy in love with him – no matter what, no serious harm would ever come to him. At least not from Jack’s hands. “You got anything to say for yourself, princess?” Jack asked him in a mockingly sweet tone of voice.

Rhys huffed softly, before he smiled in a coquettish sort of way. “Did you like the photos I sent you last night?” He asked, sarcasm heavy in his tone. Jack laughed a bit at that, mostly to himself, before he grabbed Rhys by the collar and tore his shirt open – the buttons popping as he did so. Rhys cried out in indignant scorn and outrage, “Hey, that was my favorite shirt!” But Jack wasn’t listening, he was too in the moment, too angry with him. Jack pulled Rhys’ shirt off of his shoulders and bunched it behind his back. Then he grabbed Rhys’ too long tie and used it to tie his arms behind his back.

Rhys let out another indignant noise, but didn’t bother to struggle in the binds – although, he was sure that if he wanted to he could probably get out of them – and within moments, Jack turned him around again and pulled his pants down. It was a miracle that they didn’t tear apart just like his top. His pants pooled at his ankle, nearly tripped him over as Jack dragged him along to his chair.

Jack sat himself down and manhandled Rhys so that he was laying face down in his lap. His hand cracked down across Rhys’ ass hard enough to leave red hand print shaped marks against the doughy flesh. It hurt in a way that made Rhys squirm and whine for more. Jack hit him a few more times before he said anything

After a while, Rhys started becoming desensitized to the painful feeling and he started to enjoy it. He had always been a little bit of a masochist, once he was warmed up and Jack knew that. Still, once he started giggling at the rough treatment that he was receiving, he couldn’t stop. He didn’t even know why he started giggling in the first place. Jack’s fingers dug through his hair and pulled Rhys up so that he was forced to face him, “You think this is funny, Rhysie?” He asked in a dangerous tone. “This all just a joke to you?”

Rhys couldn’t stop giggling, “I mean a little.” He admitted. “Ju-just a little bit.” He added in between breathless, nearly drunk laughter. Jack pulled Rhys off of his lap and bent Rhys over his desk. Rhys let out a few sad whimpers at the loss of skin on skin contact. His face was pushed down against the desk, hard enough to leave raw and red marks against his face.

He heard Jack pulling off his belt, and instinctively snapped his legs shut tight. He bit down on his lower lip and tried to stifle out any more noises. Jack’s hand caressed Rhys’ already flushed bottom before he looped his belt up into a makeshift whip. Rhys could hear the air whipping around as Jack flicked it with his wrist to get himself ready. Rhys let out a broken cry as the leather cracked down across his backside.

“You just love to make me go hard on ya, don’t you Rhysie?” Jack asked in a low and dangerous tone of voice. Rhys didn’t reply, he just shuddered with a mixture of fear and arousal roaming through him. The belt cracked down on his ass again, eliciting another whine out of him. “Hey! I asked you a question.” He added, not giving Rhys a break or a chance to breath as he struck him again and again.

Rhys huffed out breathlessly and moaned like a whore, despite the pain he felt. “Yes, yes, daddy I do. I love giving you trouble daddy.” He smiled, “And I’m not sorry ‘bout it.” He smiled, but it was hidden from the older man as he was face down against the furniture, “Sorry, daddy but I’m not sorry.” He added, turning up the brattiness to overdrive. Jack struck Rhys’ ass and the back of his thighs with his belt over and over again, until Rhys was trembling and tears were pouring down his cheeks.

He still wasn’t sorry. Not even a little bit and Jack didn’t even bother asking if he was before he pulled him up by the hair again, forcing him to walk into the middle of his office and pushed him down on his knees in front of Jack. “Open your mouth.” Jack hissed at him. Rhys’ mouth fell open without him even putting in effort and he stuck his tongue out so that it lay flat against his abused lower lip.

He had loved acting rude and bratty, he always did – but he wanted the older mans’ cock in his mouth and down his throat even more than he wanted to keep acting out. Despite the fact that this was a punishment, Jack gave Rhys everything that he wanted. Jack pulled his cock out from the confines of his pants and let the tip of it sit heavily on Rhys’ tongue while he got himself hard.

Jack’s cock was long and thick, it never failed to stuff his mouth full and leave his jaw aching whenever he got a chance to blow him. And he loved that, loved that it hurt just a little bit when Jack forced his cock down Rhys’ throat – it was like a fun little punishment for himself – a funishment, if you will. So, naturally, Jack kept a hand entwined in his hair – holding him back from doing just that.

This was still supposed to be a punishment. Rhys whined as he was continually denied what he wanted. “Daddy, can I-” He asked, in a pathetic and overly submissive tone of voice, “Please?”

“Please, what?” Jack prompted, holding his cock centimeters from Rhys’ lips. He pushed his hips forward just a bit, so that the tip of his dick was just barely brushing past his lips, before he pushed back out of the younger mans’ reach. He did this a few more times to Rhys. It was incredibly frustrating to him, just as Jack intended.

“Lemme suck you, please…” He pleaded in a voice that was rough and quiet – barely loud enough for Jack to hear him. “It’s all I want, daddy… I need it.” He added, even more desperately.

“Keep being polite like this and I’ll consider it, pumpkin. Come on, Rhysie, say please again.” Jack told him, laughing at how desperate Rhys was and how quick the change was. Rhys glared at him weakly and darted his tongue out, “Just give me one more.” He urged in a less than gentle manner.

“Please, please, daddy let me suck your cock.” Rhys begged, “Please, you asshole.” He added in a sharp tone. Jack decided to let him get away with it, for now at least, and allowed him enough free reign to take the older man’s cock in his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the tip briefly, allowing himself to taste him, before he took him in his mouth. He bobbed his head up and down,

He wasn’t allowed the control for much longer than that. Jack grabbed the back of his head again and told him to relax his throat – Rhys did his best to do just that, like he always did – only seconds before he forced Rhys’ head down and pushed his hips forward, so that his cock was practically forced down the younger mans throat. He moaned around the cock in his mouth and closed his eyes as he relaxed his throat, tipping his head back a little so that Jack had an easier time going while he fucked his throat.

Rhys’ hair was a tangled mess and it was getting even worse the older man knotted his fingers in it to hold Rhys’ head firmly in place. Jack thrust in and out of his mouth hard, barely giving Rhys room to breath in between thrusts. The younger man struggled to breath through his nose – every breath that he took felt like it was a reward, the conscious effort that he had to make to keep himself stable was strangely satisfying to him.

This went on for some time – Jack fucking his throat raw, while Rhys whined, moaned and struggled to keep himself afloat. Then Jack pulled out suddenly and Rhys let out a whine of discontent. Jack held Rhys’ head in place, giving him no ability to pull away as he came all over the younger mans’ face. He smiled down at the younger man as Rhys took heaving breaths to calm his heart rate down. He looked up at Jack with big, pleading eyes. “You look so good like that, baby.” He cooed, “Much less bratty.”

Rhys didn’t respond to anything of that, just whimpered quietly. “C’mon.” Jack urged, pulling Rhys to his feet. “We’re going home. I’m not done with you just yet.” He promised, biting at Rhys’ ear as he whispered in the younger mans ear. Rhys was still bound with his arms tied behind his back and half dressed – because Jack had at least been kind enough to pull his pants up, but he didn’t do much else for him – with the older man’s cum dripping down his face. The two of them walked out of his office and into an elevator that was filled with a decent amount of people.

Rhys recognized at least half of them and rounded his shoulders in embarrassment. No one said a damn thing, they pointedly ignored Rhys’ existence – thank god. At least until Jack decided to strike up a conversation with one of the workers that was unfortunate enough to have happened to be standing right by Jack and him, a squirrely looking R&D scientist that Jack insisted on calling Francis. Rhys was almost entirely sure that the guys name wasn’t Francis, but ‘Francis’ didn’t bother to correct Jack – probably because he didn’t want to die at their murderous CEO’s hands.

Jack kept an arm around Rhys, both as a show of ownership and to make him a spectacle. Rhys trained his eyes to the floor, feeling like he was on full display for the entirety of Helios – even if there were only five or six people who saw him like this. “Have you met Rhysie, Francis?” He asked, not waiting for the man to respond when he said, “Of course you have…everybody knows Rhys! He’s everybody’s best friend – doesn’t matter if they’re Hyperion or Maliwan scum.” He turned to Rhys and asked him, in a low voice that sent shivers down the younger mans’ spine, “Isn’t that right, kitten?”

“Yup.” Rhys said quietly, barely audible. He bit down on his lower lip and let their conversation wash over him – the words muddled. He closed his eyes and he intensely felt that everyone’s eyes were on him. It made his skin crawl, in the worst and best sort of way. It was humiliating, in a way that had him trembling and whimpering, while Jack practically ignored his existence in favor of chatting up his subordinates.

Rhys had tears in his eyes by the time that the elevator finally stopped on their floor, and they were on the way back to their penthouse. Jack noticed that he was getting overwhelmed and stopped walking, he gently squeezed Rhys’ shoulder and turned him around so that Jack could look him in the eye while he checked in on his mental state. “Rhys-” He sighed, “look at me, pumpkin.” He scolded and Rhys was quick to obey – his eyes were watery and glassy, “

“I… it’s just so much…” Rhys admitted after a few minutes, his voice was a bit raspy and weak from all the crying, whining and having his throat fucked.

Jack absentmindedly played with Rhys’ already mussed up hair as he spoke, “You wanna dial it back then, baby?” He suggested, as gently as he was capable of.

Rhys shook his head as Jack wiped away his tears. “N-no it’s okay, ‘m okay, I promise. I wanna keep going…” He mumbled out in a voice that was just loud enough for Jack to hear him. “Please.” He added with desperation obvious in his voice. The older man nodded and led him down the hall with one hand squeezing Rhys’ shoulder in a comforting manner and his other squeezing his butt, nudging him onward to take the rest of his punishment.

Once they were back in the penthouse, Jack had demanded that he strip himself down and kneel on the plush and clean carpet. Rhys – having his confidence and bratty attitude restored a little bit by the check in – was only a little difficult about it. He sighed, rolled his eyes and nearly stuck his tongue out at the older man before his knees buckled without his permission and he did exactly as he was asked.

Jack stood back and watched as Rhys got into position and once Rhys was kneeling, naked on his floor Then he made him sit and wait until Jack decided to walk over to him, and grab his chin so that he was forced to look up at Jack. “Have you learned your lesson yet?” He asked in a tone that was genuine and honest. Rhys didn’t respond just yet. Jack followed that up with, “Are you gonna be a good boy now, Rhysie?” His fingers tracing Rhys’ plump bottom lip with thumb in an idle manner.

Rhys pretended to think about it and a coy smile spread across his face. “No, daddy, I don’t think I’ve learned my lesson just yet.” He said, playfully shaking his head from side to side. “And I don’t think I will be, no.” He added, before making an attempt to stifle his giggles, before he steeled himself and said, in a tone that was practically gift wrapped as bait, “Make me.”

It was more than enough to spring Jack into action. He pounced on Rhys, throwing him down on the ground. The action made Rhys breathlessly whine at the powerlessness that he felt right then. Jack’s hands wrapped around his throat, restricting his airflow until Rhys was kicking his legs out and making desperate, fearful little noises. Tears flowed from his eyes freely and he was suddenly all too aware of the older man’s erection against his hip.

Jack loosened up his grip on the younger man’s throat. Rhys took in a few greedy breaths. “Let’s try this one more time…” He purred in a low and sweet sounding voice. “Are you gonna be a good boy for me?” He asked, although he was sure that he already knew what he was going to say.

Rhys hesitated for just a moment before he gave him a mischievous sort of look and then repeated himself, “Make me.” He said, desperation lacing his voice. It sounded, to Jack at least, like he was asking for help instead of what he had said. Jack was happy to help him out. For now, at least.

“Mm-kay… if that’s what you want.” Jack cooed and then pressed rough, biting kisses down his chest and stomach. Rhys squirmed just a little bit, but ultimately didn’t fight him.

“What are you…” Rhys trailed off and let out a moan as Jack stroked his cock gently. “I thought you were gonna-” He was cut off by Jack gently shushing him. His brow furrowed in confusion, but everything that Jack did to him was so soothing and relaxing to him that he didn’t argue.

“Relax, princess…” The older man cooed, voice barely above a whisper. He smiled and pressed his lips against the shaft of Rhys’ plump, hard cock. His tongue darted out, sliding up and down over his shaft. Rhys let out a pleasant sigh, he hadn’t been expecting this, and spread his legs a little. Jack sucked him off with incredible gentleness. He pressed feather light kisses all over the base and shaft of his cock and stroked him low and slow. Even still, it didn’t take long to wind Rhys up.

“Daddy, I’m…” Rhys whined in a high, breathy voice as he bucked his hips and squirmed around as much as the older man allowed him to. “Oh fuck, oh god, please… please, please, please.”

The older man chuckled, the vibrations of his throat nearly tipping Rhys over the edge. “You gonna cum for me, baby?” Jack hummed as the younger man squirmed and bucked into his hands and lips.

“Yeah,” Rhys replied, breathlessly. “Yeah I think I’m gonna- fuck, Ja- I mean…can I, please?” He practically begged, hoping to be as polite and sweet as possible, just so he could get everything that he wanted from the older man. “Daddy, please?”

Then Jack stopped, seconds before Rhys would have cum. “Mm, nah.” He said. Rhys opened his mouth to curse at him, but it turned into a whine as Jack pinched and pulled at Rhys’ cock and balls, scratching painfully over his shaft. Rhys cried out in misery as his erection diminished and the heat in his gut felt like it was curdling, turning his stomach.

“Daddy, you’re so mean…” He whined as Jack pushed him down the ground with a rough, bruising grip.

“Shut up. You love it when I’m mean.” The older man replied, cruelly gleeful at his partner’s expense. He gave Rhys one more kiss before he pulled out a small, clear cock cage with a bright gold lock at the base of it. Rhys’ eyes widened just a bit and he trembled nervously as he realized that he probably wasn’t gonna cum tonight. Bummer, he thought, but maybe he deserved that much.

Jack hesitated for just a moment – giving him a short window to use his safe word. Rhys took a breath and nodded at him, as if to say, “It’s okay, keep going.” without saying so much as a word. He secured it on him within seconds. Then Jack pulled him to his feet.

The two of them walked over to a portion of the room, in front of one of the windows. There was a hook that was attached to the ceiling above them. Rhys looked at it with interest, but didn’t say anything. “You gonna be a good boy now?” Jack asked, staring Rhys down hard.

Rhys looked down at his currently useless cock and pretended to be upset. “I guess I have to now, don’t I?” He practically fluttered his eyelashes at Jack, flirtatiously. “If I want to get this off of me… I have to be good.” He even had the audacity to pout and look at Jack with pleading eyes.

“That’s riiiiight.” Jack flicked his nose condescendingly and then, tapped idly at the younger mans’ locked up dick in a cruel gesture of having power over the usually so defiant younger man. “You’re helpless, baby. You gotta do whatever I want, if you ever want to come again.” Just like Rhys wanted to be, was left unsaid.“Now, gimme your hands.” Rhys did as he was told and Jack pressed them together, holding them in place as he tied them together tightly in front of his chest with a thick, brightly colored length of rope. Jack attached his wrist to the ceiling hook.

“What are you gonna do to me now?” Rhys asked, only a little fearful.

“What-ev-er I want.” Jack reminded him in a cheeky tone of vocie. Rhys felt his knees get weak, like they were made of jelly, and he nodded weakly. A thick blindfold was slipped over his eyes and he suddenly felt completely helpless. Jack pet his thigh in a soothing manner for just a moment and he relaxed, trusting the older man to be good to him.

Jack stopped petting him after a moment, He let out a gasp of surprise as the hook ascended towards the ceiling, stretching his limbs out far more than was comfortable. Even with as tall as Rhys was, he could barely stand on his tiptoes. He couldn’t move much, he couldn’t see anything. Everything felt so much more intense like this. He heard a bottle open, and in moments he felt something cool drip between his ass cheeks and a bit down the back of his thighs.

He let out a soft gasp at the sensation and unconsciously recoiled from it. The gasp quickly turned into a whine as he felt Jack’s thick fingers nudge against his entrance, stroking the rim of the younger mans’ hole until he relaxed and let him in. He subjected Rhys to an incredibly brisk, somewhat rough fingering. It didn’t take long for Rhys to start deriving pleasure from it, and he was rocking back on his partner’s fingers in no time. Jack used both hands to slap down on each of his cheeks, spanking him until his ass was cherry red and tears were falling down Rhys’ face.

Jack grabbed him and pushed him down, so that he was forced to arch his back, before he slowly forced his cock in Rhys’ well stretched hole. He didn’t give him much time to adjust at all, and fucked Rhys with little care. “Ah, you feel so big. Too big…s-so good.” Rhys whined, squirming as Jack thrust in and out of him, digging his nails into Rhys’ hips – hard enough to bruise as he fucked him. He felt like a sex toy, in the best sort of way. In that moment, it was like he was just some pretty doll that hung from the ceiling and his only purpose was for Jack to come in and stuff him with his cock.

Jack responded by slapping his ass, “Keep your mouth shut or I’ll leave you here all night.” He snapped in a low, nearly animalistic growl. Rhys let his head fall forward, his chin pressed against his chest as Jack took everything that he wanted from him.

Rhys let out a whine and bit down on his lower lip to stifle any more noises or words that might come out of him. He set his jaw tight and only allowed a few soft whimpers to escape from his lips, while Jack thrust in and out of him, pistoning his hips against Rhys’ hard and fast. It was overwhelming, he hit his prostate almost constantly and every time that Rhys’ cock started to stiffen, it would be crushed down by the cage around his cock – which hurt. A lot.

It felt like he was being used – in suspended animation – for years and years, constantly. Then Jack came inside of him, flooding his insides with his cum. He pulled out after a moment and slapped his thigh. Jack watched with interest as his cum dripped out of the younger mans’ hole. Rhys looked filthy and he told him as much. “Aw, kitten! You look so cute when you’re not mouthing off.”

Rhys whimpered and squeezed his thighs together tight. He was trembling and shaking – overwhelmed and exhausted by everything that they had done together. He wanted nothing more than for Jack to hold him and tell him that he did well, that everything was going to be okay. “Daaaaddy…I need you.” Rhys whined out in a sleepy sounding mumble. Rhys let out a soft sob, worried – in the strange head space that he was in – that he had done something wrong and Jack would leave him here alone all night like he had threatened. “D-daddy please.” He hiccuped, shaking like a leaf.

Jack circled him, checking for any damage beyond superficial marks and bruises. Once he was sure that he was completely fine, he undid all of the restraints that he was tied in, unlocked the cock cage and then picked the younger man up. He scooped him into his arms and held him securely. Rhys whimpered and mumbled soft, fearful statements while Jack shushed him.

Jack pressed kisses to his hair while the younger man reached out to him for comfort and security, like he was the only person in the universe who could make him feel safe. Jack gladly offered that security to him with open arms and kind words. Rhys hung onto Jack like he was a koala bear, it made Jack smile. He got so damn clingy after a scene or a punishment. “I know, baby, I know…” Jack crooned in his ear, soothing down Rhys’ sweat slick hair. He carried Rhys to their bathroom and sat him down in the large tub. “Just, relax, sweetheart and let daddy take care of you.”

Rhys’ head lolled to the side in a sleepy manner as comfortably warm water filled the tub. Jack filled it up with bubble bath and a bath bomb, so that it was extra soothing to the younger man. “I’ll be right back in a minute.” He said, tweaking his nose playfully. Rhys just nodded dumbly, too fucked out to do much more than enjoy the comforting feeling of the warm water lapping around his sore body.

Jack came back with a bottle of cold water with a straw poking out through the top of it. He sat it down on the edge before he stripped himself entirely naked and got in the tub with him. Rhys crawled forward on his hands and knees and curled himself up in the older man’s arms. He sipped the water quietly, as Jack pet him and tell him what a good boy he was and how well he had taken his punishments. Rhys drank in the praise greedily, holding onto Jack and mumbling sweetly spoken affirmations back to the older man. The two of them took to gently washing each other – smiling, laughing and kissing each other the whole time.

Once they were sufficiently clean and relaxed, Jack pulled the two of them out of the bath. Gently maneuvering Rhys to his feet so that the younger man could towel himself off. Neither of them bothered to dress themselves again – why would they? – before they slowly walked back to their bedroom. They laid down, ready for sleep, cuddled up close against each other.

“You’re a good boy, Rhysie.” Jack told him one more time, “Even if you’re too much of a brat most of the time.” He added in a teasing manner.

Rhys gave him a pleased, dopey sort of grin. “You’re a good boy too…” He replied, in a tone that seemed strangely genuine. Jack couldn’t help but laugh at that – if only because it was something that Rhys would have said at any other time to get a rise out of him.

“Yeah?” Jack challenged, raising a brow at the younger man curled up against his side. He wrapped an arm around him and he arched closer to him.

“Yeah.” Rhys affirmed and then nuzzled against Jack’s chest in a fashion that was not unlike a kitten gentle headbutting against someone for affection. Jack smiled, he thought that it was cute when Rhys got like this. He could be so endearing when he wasn’t trying to get a rise out of the older man but he could be just as endearing when he was trying to get a rise out of him too. “You’re so good to me.” He frowned as he suddenly recalled what started all of this. “’M sorry, for t-talking to that guy at the club.” He mumbled, tired enough to let himself be honest with Jack. “I didn’t mean to put you… er, or Hyperion in danger.” He admitted. “I was just… I was so lonely! I missed you so much-”

Jack cut him off with a few possessive kisses. “No harm done baby,” He said, “This time. Just, ah, don’t do it again. Alright?” Rhys didn’t respond, as by the time that he finished speaking he had passed out in his arms. Jack scoffed and gently disentangled their limbs. He gave Rhys a kiss on the top of his head and wrapped him up in the soft, warm blankets before he walked off to make some arrangements.

They were no strangers to Rhys acting out – usually in little, inconsequential ways so that he could get a punishment. Rhys liked the pain and the humiliations, Jack liked doling it out to him and putting him in his place. Their dynamic worked specifically because they were uniquely suited to each other – it was a symbiotic relationship that they had.

But he felt – and Rhys felt, if his angry misbehavior was any tell – that he had been neglecting him as of late. It wasn’t entirely his fault, running Hyperion kept him busy as hell, but it was obvious that it had taken a toll on the younger man. Rhys was always desperate for his attention and getting less of it had kept him on edge. So, he decided to set that right as soon as possible.

He called up Timothy first and told him that he was in luck – he would have the extra comfy gig of sitting in his office, pretending to be him on Helios, if only because he was the doppelganger that he trusted the most. Even if Timothy proclaimed to hate him, he was understandably loyal to the man that he shared a face with. He’d had to pull the comm of his ear when Timothy started excitedly exclaiming his glee about that. Then he called up Blake – demanding that the VP make arrangements for a short stay at one of his vacation homes – the one that was on Promethea. He was sure that Rhys would love staying there, it was serene and quiet, but close enough to the city that they could have a good time whenever they wanted to brave the paparazzi.

Looking at how laid up Rhys was, he was sure that by the time that he woke up again – they would be on their way there. He was sure that he would be in for a hell of a surprise when he finally woke. But He was also sure that the younger man would be delighted with everything that he had planned for him – even if he pouted and rolled his eyes, protesting too much to the contrary. He couldn’t wait to give his kitten the best attitude adjustment of his life.

#rhack #rhack fic #bratty rhys #brat taming #borderlands #Rhys the Company man #Handsome Jack #ongoing fic

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angelic-holland · 5 years

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Seeing The Thing 1

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Summary: You and Harrison make your way to a small get together the night before your auditions and you end up having to bring a drunk Tom back to the dorms.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: depictions of anxiety and panic attacks

A/N: sorry I suck at summaries! Leave feedback here and let me know what you think!

“Come on Y/N, you never go to parties with me, you should just have a little fun before all the rehearsals start, come on,” Harrison says, eyes wide and lips pouting, knowing you’ll cave.

“You know why I don’t go to parties asshole,” you grumble.

“Sorry, sorry, I know, just, this isn’t really a party, just a buncha theatre kids hanging out. Not even a bunch of theatre kids, pretty sure it’s just like a few of us nerds drinking and relaxing before auditions tomorrow.”

“And my idea of relaxing doesn’t involve drinking with a group of people. What if I don’t know anyone there?” You sigh, picking at your fingernails.

“Katie, Ben, Jack, Wendy, those people will be there. Maybe a few other people who are auditioning will be there. You don’t have to drink if you don’t want to.”

“Fine, fuck, let’s go,” you say, turning him around to face the wall of your dorm room while you change. He’s one of your best friends, you’ve changed in front of him, with him in the same room plenty of times, he’s done the same with you.

You pull off your T-shirt and tug down your pants, changing into a cute black dress, you may have been nervous, well you definitely were nervous, your anxiety about to throw you into a panic attack.

Your breathing must’ve audibly changed because you felt Harrison’s arms wrap around you, pulling you tight into him. You both knew when you had an attack that the best way to calm you down was to ground you in reality. That usually meant either talking to you or holding you or hugging you until you felt safe and secure in the world again.

“You know we can just hang out here and watch movies, talk about our favorite Almost, Maine scenes. Don’t haveta go.”

“No I wanna, it’s okay I’m good,” you say.

“You’re good.”

“And we can leave whenever I want?”

“Course.”

“Alright bub, let’s go,” you say, pulling away from him.

He takes your hand, bringing you out of the dorm room. You lock the door behind you and Harrison slips an arm around your shoulder as you walk to the off campus apartment of your mutual friend, Katie, who was having this little get together.

You talked about the show, his vision, how excited you were to finally get to work with him. How excited he was to work with you in all the show’s capacity.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah Haz?”

“Don’t kill me but I invited Tom.”

You groan, your head on his shoulder.

“I know you think he’s an ass but he’s my best mate, my roommate too, so try to be civil today.”

“I will, promise, as long as he doesn’t interact with me, I won’t make a fuss.”

He laughs, “he’s not as obnoxious he seems, just very cocky.”

“Sure, we’ll use that term,” you laugh as you knock on Katie’s door.

“Y/N!!” Katie greets you, pulling you into a hug, you smile and hug her back, she lets go of you and hugs Harrison.

“How’s my favorite Brit doing?” She asks as she lets him go.

“And I’m not your favorite Brit?” You hear Tom’s voice and turn your head to see Tom leaning against the wall of the hallway.

“Hey mate,” Harrison says, doing his handshake with Tom.

“What’s up?” He asks Harrison, his eyes flitting to you, moving up to meet your eyes. You ignore him and make small talk with Katie as she brings you into the kitchen.

“How much do you know this other kid? Tom?” She whispers as you grab a water.

“Not well? He’s Haz’s roommate, and best friend. They both came here from England for god knows why.”

“Okay, okay, just he looked like he wanted to devour you so.”

Your eyes widen and you smack Katie’s arm, “no fucking way he just looks at all girls like that cause he’s an asshole.”

“Ah so you don’t like him.”

“Eh, my opinion on him doesn’t really matter I hardly know him.”

“Seems like your opinion is pretty well formed,” she says, eyebrows raised.

“Whatcha talking about ladies?” Tom says coming up from behind you, making you jump.

“Fuck off, for real?” You say, turning and rolling your eyes before pushing past him into Katie’s living room. You hear him talk to Katie a little and you think you hear him ask about the show this season. You find Haz sitting on the ground with a few friends so you sit by his side. You felt yourself get anxious, you never talked to anyone the way you talked to Tom. Your therapist said it was a way of deflecting your anxiety so you didn’t do something you would regret.

“Hey love,” he says, arm slipping around your shoulder as you sip your water.

“Hey,” you say, nodding at Ben and Maggie chilling in front of you.

“You excited for auditions tomorrow?” Ben asks.

“Sort of? Worried we won’t have enough boys because Professor Schultz won’t let us double cast anyone.”

“He won’t let you double cast people? That’s bullshit,” Maggie says.

“Yeah said that he wants more people to have the chance to be in shows so there’s 10 male roles we need to fill,” Harrison says, you could see his eyes rolling in his head from the corner of yours.

“We’ll figure it out,” you say, resting your head on his shoulder.

“What are you figuring out?” Tom says, seemingly appearing out of nowhere to sit right next to you.

“Nothing,” you say at the same time Maggie tells Tom what the problem was.

“So you don’t have enough guys to audition?” He asks.

“Don’t know yet,” you say, taking a very long drink of your water.

“That sucks,” he says and you close your eyes, pinching the ridge of your nose. Can he just, go away? Why the fuck is he here other than Harrison inviting him?

“Yeah mate, it does,” Harrison says, hand rubbing your arm, fingers making random designs on your skin. You could feel Tom’s eyes burning a hole into the spot on your arm where Harrison’s fingers rest.

“We’ll figure it out, always do,” you mumble before finishing off your water.

“Refill?” Harrison asks and you both stand up. You make your way to the kitchen, taking a deep breath before filling your water again. He grabs another beer and takes a long swig.

“Hey, you didn’t rip his head off, proud of you,” he laughs.

You roll your eyes, drinking almost half of the new bottle in one go.

He sits back down and you follow suit, glaring at Tom as you cuddle into Harrison’s side.

“Who wants to play truth or truth?” Maggie asks and you hear Tom groan.

“Who plays truth or truth? Is this just a chance for you all to get way too personal while drunk?” Tom asks and Maggie nods.

“Plus daring drunk people to do stuff is pretty messed up,” you say quietly.

“What was that love?”

“Drunk people daring other drunk people doesn’t end well, so we stick to truth or truth.”

“That’s lame.”

“Are you afraid any of us might actually get to know you?” Maggie laughs, she’s joking but that doesn’t reach Tom’s brain past his thick skull.

“Fine, truth or truth bring it on.”

“Okay, I’ll go first, Harrison, truth or truth?” Maggie asks and Harrison pretends to think for a moment.

“Truth.”

“Okay, what’s your dream role in a musical?”

“Hmm, cheesy but I really want to play King George in Hamilton.”

“No no I totally love that, hey you’ve even got the accent,” Maggie giggles.

She would talk about Harrison’s accent all night if someone let her.

“Alright Tom, truth or truth?”

“This game is fucking dumb, truth.”

“What’s something you’ve always wanted to do but are too scared to do it?”

“Shit Harrison, I don’t know, skydiving? It always looks cool in videos but I don’t know if I’d want to do it. Anyways, Y/N, truth or truth?”

You raise an eyebrow, surprised he asked you, “truth.”

“Is it true that you slept with every guy in the math club on the same weekend last year?”

Your eyebrows furrowed and you looked at Tom, feeling Harrison tense beside you.

“No, what’s got into your fucking head?” You ask, crossing your arms.

Where he heard that, you wouldn’t have the slightest clue, did he have friends on the math club? And if he was friends with any of them, why the fuck were they sharing anything? Harrison knows. He’s the only one who knows besides the three boys on your school’s stupidly small math club you started your freshman year. Harrison, your normally calm, cool and collected best friend freaked out thinking you were alone and having a panic attack, scared that he couldn’t be there to help you. He went to your dorm and you weren’t there, then he stayed there on your bed, calling you over and over and over again until you finally showed up, 3 in the morning doing the walk of shame back to your very dorm.

“Harrison, what, what are you doing here?” You ask, hair patted down but still disheveled, hickies all over your neck, “why’re you, are you crying? Haz, what’s wrong?” You ask sitting next to him.

“Was worried about you, I’m fine, just thought you got stuck somewhere panicking,” he says, wiping a tear from his face.

“I think there’s something wrong with me,” you say, staring at your hands.

“What?” He asks, turning to you.

“So you know how I’m on Xanax on an as needed basis?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, sorry totally tmi but it makes me super horny and I don’t know like how to live without taking it every once and a while when my anxiety is really bad but I also don’t want to be a slut and-,”

“Hey you’re not a slut,” he says, collecting your hands in his own.

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew what I just did.”

“It doesn’t matter, nothing you do would make you a slut, you kidding? Boys here laying every single girl they look at, why does you sleeping with one guy make you a slut?”

“Because I didn’t sleep with one guy.”

“Okay two guys.”

“Fucking hell, I slept with three guys, the guys on the math club? For their calculus exam?”

“You slept with them for their calculus exam? That’s a little odd,” he laughs and the tension in the room dissipates.

“No silly, just because I wanted to.”

“Okay then you do that, but if you don’t want to, maybe you see about weaning off of Xanax. Is this the first time you’ve done something like that?”

“I mean, I’ve hooked up with guys when I’m taking it, but it’s not like Xanax gets me high or anything, I just feel calm.”

“You do what’s best for you okay? I’m not going to tell you what to do but I’ll support you okay? Just don’t scare me like that again.”

“I would never. If I knew you were worried I would’ve never done that, would’ve come back here and watched that movie with you. I just totally spaced.”

“You’re fine, promise, come here let’s just cuddle,” Harrison says, before holding you in his arms as you lie down.

“Well because a little birdy told me,” he starts.

“And another little birdy is telling you to shut the fuck up,” Harrison says sharply. Toms quiet.

“Are- did you- what?” You say, turning to face Harrison.

His face tells you he never said anything to Tom, he wouldn’t. They were best friends too but you knew he would never share anything about you, anything you’ve told him in private.

“Alright well that was sort of fun while it lasted,” Maggie sighs and you snap your head up, the rest of your friends are all awkwardly fiddling in their spots.

The game was clearly over, Tom was smirking like the little asshole he was, Harrison was grimacing and Maggie and Ben stood up, walking away.

“I think I’d like to leave now,” you say, feeling panic start to overwhelm you. You did your best to push it down, hide it away because you didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of people you’d be working with, people you essentially called friends.

Your parents made it very clear that when you first started having panic attacks, it was embarrassing if it happened in public so you very quickly learned how to control yourself until you were alone or in private.

“Let’s get outta here,” Harrison says, helping you up. Tom leaps up and runs outside and you raise an eyebrow at Harrison.

“He’s a lightweight no matter what he says, I’ll be right back.”

You say goodbye to Katie who smiles at you, almost a pity smile, which makes your stomach sink and you follow Harrison outside.

You smile as you watch Tom hurl into the bushes outside Katie’s apartment. You knew the hangover the next morning would suck and he deserved it.

“Hey, just wanna make sure Tom’s okay,” Harrison says and you nod.

“Fine with me,” you shrug.

“Could you maybe not smile like the best thing in the world is me puking my guts out?” Tom says, wiping his mouth and scowling at you.

“Nah,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Let’s be civil,” Harrison says, arm resting on your waist.

“Alright drunky, you feeling good enough to walk home or should we call campus police to drive you home?”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Tom says, standing up.

“I don’t know, you don’t seem well Tom.”

“Fuck off, you ruined the party.”

“Did not,” you say as Harrison forces you to turn around and start walking.

“Y/N, be civil, please,” Harrison begs, words slightly slurred.

“It’s true isn’t it?” Tom asks, you hear him dragging his feet behind you.

“None of your fucking business,” you grumble and Harrison’s hand on your waist tightens.

“You know, we could call him an Uber,” you say after you stop for the second time for Tom to dry heave onto the sidewalk.

“To take him a half mile?” Harrison laughs.

“Don’t know how much farther he’s gonna be able to walk, I don’t wanna drag him back,” you say, eyebrows furrowed at the thought.

“If Tom passes out on the way we can get him an Uber, okay?”

“Sounds like a plan,” you giggle as Harrison’s fingers tickle your side.

“You know, I can go sleep in the bushes if you two are gonna flirt all night,” Tom slurs and you roll your eyes.

“You should continue doing what you’ve been doing and keep your mouth shut,” you say, scowling. Harrison and you liked to be affectionate with each other, Harrison knew why, because that’s how you kept calm, how you were able to stay in the moment. But he was one of the only ones who knew.

Unbeknownst to you, Harrison is blushing, Tom sure does notice though.

“Someone’s gotta crush,” Tom laughs, “can’t blame you mate.”

“Tom I’ll snap your neck if you don’t shut up,” you growl as you get to your dorm building.

“Lemme drop this drunk asshole off at our dorm room and take you to yours,” he says as you swipe into the building.

“Just going up a floor, it’s fine,” you say as you all start walking up the stairs.

“It’s fine gotta, gotta talk to you about something anyways.”

You frown, does Harrison have a crush on you like Tom said? You slightly shake your head, no, he doesn’t, that’s just Tom being a prick.

“Here drunky, don’t choke on your own vomit while I’m gone okay?” Harrison says, his arm slipping from your waist to unlock the door and help Tom lay down. You smile, Harrison was such a good friend to you, to Tom, even when he himself is a little drunk, he still wanted to help his much drunker friend out.

He closed the door and smiled softly at you, arm slinging around your shoulder again as you made your way to your room.

You unlocked it and Harrison and you stepped inside. You patted the edge of your bed, sitting down and waiting for Harrison to follow your lead. He hesitates before sitting down, leaving a small space between the two of you.

Fuck.

“Haz, what’s happening here?”

He looks down at his hands, fiddling with them on his lap.

“Do you, shit, do you have a crush on me?” You ask, really hoping he says no.

“I, I’m not sure, I dunno,” he sighs, shrugging.

“This is my fault.”

“What?”

“I, I’m too needy, I hug you and ask you to hold me when I’m anxious and I’m panicking like I’m doing right now and-,”

“Hey hey hey, it’s not your fault, never was your fault, I just, maybe I needa girlfriend, maybe I like the way we cuddle or I hold you and I want that in a relationship but I don’t like you like that.”

You try to listen to what he’s saying as your head pounds and your ears start to ring. You clasp your hands over your ears, trying to stop the panic you felt rise in your chest which you knew inevitably would bubble over.

“Hey, wait, Y/N, stop, look at me, focus, breath, breath with me okay?” Harrison says, your panic scaring him.

You blink a few times, feeling his hands wrap around your wrists, bringing them away from your ears. You watch as he makes big exaggerated breaths and you follow his lead. You feel the air rush into your lungs and are comforted.

“You’re okay,” he repeats, his hands letting go of yours as they drop to your sides.

Your heart was still pounding as you tried to calm yourself.

“Look at me, focus, come on,” he urges and you blink, staring into his eyes.

They’re full of nothing but concern and you want so badly to tell him to leave, to tell him to stop worrying about you and that you’ll be fine eventually.

But all you could say was, “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no, don’t apologize, c’mere, need me to hold you?”

You nod, eyes dropping to your lap. Need. It was a funny word, need. Your parents were always on your case as a child about using proper English, that’s what you get when both of your parents are English teachers.

There was a big difference between needing something and wanting something.

Mom I need a phone, all my friends have one.

Well sweetie, you don’t actually need a phone. You want one. You need to learn the difference.

Harrison lets you get comfy, lying on your side with your back facing him before he lays down next to you, arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you close so your back was pressed against his chest.

Did you need Harrison to hold you? Or did you just want him to? As you debated that question you felt yourself grow tired, eyes drooping shut.

You hear the telltale sound of your door opening and before you or Harrison have a chance to react the light from the hallway and a shadow hovering at the edge of your room.

“What the fuck?”

***

Taglist: @relise-thefury @danicarosaline @sighharrington @whltlock @imahoefortomholland

#tom holland #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #tom holland x reader #tom holland x fem!reader #tom holland x reader fic #tom holland angst #tom holland enemies to lovers #seeing the thing #seeing the thing series #seeing the thing chapter one #harrison osterfield #bestfriend!harrison

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