#i have inadvertently dragged you into this hell with me

[decembermoonskz]

IZZY I CAVED

JHASFKHLFKHASLFKAH CHRIS AKKSHALKSFH NOOOO YOU CAVED BEFORE MEEEEE ASLKFAFSKHS i even got beck interested in the game bc of the jp voice actors they have and a bit of the story this game is going to break me noooooooooo

#mail #chris !! ✨ #beck was literally like 'you can never have too much gacha wdym???' #i was like noooo this doesn't help meeee #also i'm sorry was it okie to make this a public ask i should've asked prior i'm sorry haslkfaskhf #i have inadvertently dragged you into this hell with me

[sassypossumm]

Dirty Talk

Miguel might be the top in your relationship, but not when it comes to dirty talk... (obv...18+) I refuse to apologize for my horny ass self...

It started out so simply, you wanted to try your hand at dirty talk, and of course Miguel was all for it...

At first, you were more than happy to let Miguel take the reins after your botched first attempt where you inadvertently referred to his cock as 'dumbo' and compared the sounds of your love making to a seal clapping its fins...

(He still hasn't stopped teasing you about saying 'sea world' when he orgasmed into your hand)

After that, he'd taken the firmly dominant position. And aft first... that was great, sure you loved beimg called his 'little slut', and you loved Miguel dearly, but you couldnt help but feel that he was holding back...

Hed start out intending to be degrading and rough, but once his dick was inside of you, he devolved back into your pussy drunk teddy bear.

And while you'd never complain about having him draped over you, pressing praises and affection into your skin as he slowly rocked in and out of you... you couldn't escape the morbidly curious thought...

What if he let go?

Which led to weeks of digging and research, because hell or high water, you just had to see that darker edge he kept hidden so well...

***

"Gonna cum for me, mi amor?" Miguel gripped your hips, titling them slightly off the bed to meet his lazy thrusts. You turned your face into the pillows and bit back a whimper.

"Don't hide those sounds." He growled, draping himself over you, humping his cock deeper. You whimpered, and your walls fluttered around his cock, dragging a throaty moan from his chest.

Oh, how you loved those primal sounds he made... and you needed more, it was never enough, nothing was ever enough with Miguel.

Nipping at your ear, he laced his fingers over yours and moaned again, flooding your body with tingly vibrations that your pussy constricting his cock mercilessly.

Another groan and his thrusts slowed as his jaw went slack and his eyes glazed over with just how good you felt.

"So good..." He whimpered, and you felt your teddy bear returning to his natural state. Fisting the sheets, you squeezed your eyes shut and sucked in a sharp breath before,

"I want you to fuck me." It was more of a whisper than a statement, but Miguel froze mid thrust, and propped himself up on his elbows, pearing down at you in confusion.

"I thought I was fucking you." His lips tipped up in a half smirk as he smoothed his hand down your hip. Shaking your head, you ran a hand through his damp hair and slid your hands down his shoulders.

"I want you to fuck me." Your voice dipped as your hands trailed up and down his arms, and you shivered as his hand tightened possesively around your thigh.

"Amor," He warned gently, stroking your inner thigh with his thumb. Wrapping your arms around his neck you tugged until he rested his weight more firmly against yours, effectively pinning you to thr mattress.

"I wanna be your cumdump...." You purred, nipping at his ear. Miguel's grip on your thigh tightened as he drew it up towards his hips. "Wanna be your fucktoy." You mewled, wrapping your leg around his waist, resting the heel of your foot lightly against his ass.

"You're playing with fire, muñeca." He murmured, voice strained. You bit down on his pulse point, drawing a pleased rumble from his chest, his hips rolling into yours. Heat pricked your skin, and taking a shaky breath you sucked at his ear.

"I want you to mount me... and fuck me like a bitch in-" With a primal grunt, Miguel easily flipped you onto your stomach. You squeaked as he tugged you up to your knees roughly.

"Wanna repeat that, querida?" He growled in your ear, sinking his fangs into the nape of your neck. A helpless whimper escaping our lips as he wound his hand in your hair and tugged until your back arched. "I believe...you were saying..." Your eyes rolled back when he nudged your clit with the head of his cock, little spurts of presume mixing with your arousal.

"Fuck me dumb." You whined desperately, dropping to your elbows, presenting your ass. Miguel ran a hand over the plush of your ass, grinning darkly when he spread your cheeks only to find you horribly aroused and puffy.

"My kittens grown quite the dirty tongue." He purred. You cried out as he slid his hard cock into you in one fluid motion.

"I'm going to ruin this pussy." His words reverberated through you with each sharp thrust of his hips, and you were still feeling the aftershocks the next morning when he carried you to the shower...

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #miguel imagine #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara smut #atsv

[minghaoyoudoin]

to love easily

pairing: non-idol!minghao x fem!reader

genre: fake dating / angst / smut / non-idol au

words: 13.5k

rating: strictly 18+, stay safe out there 🫶

warnings: heavy mention of cheating and resulting trauma, fem reader, food consumption, kissing, dirty talk, pet name (darling), very explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, oral sex (m. and f. receiving), penetration (vaginal), some angst but more fluff, some marking, I'm sure there's more but you'll have to read to find out hehe

a/n: drum roll please.......... ta da! at long last, I've written for the namesake of this blog, the actual love of my life xu minghao! I hope y'all enjoy reading this one, it was such a joy to write and I'm excited to be able to share it with you! please like or reblog if you like it and thank you for reading!

synopsis: fake dating the beautiful stranger you met in the men’s room: what could go wrong?

~ DAY ONE ~

When you burst through the men’s bathroom door like a bat out of hell, you weren’t quite sure why you were surprised to find a boy on the other side.

Luckily, he wasn’t doing anything worthy of sprinting back out for. The boy stood at the row of old, slightly rusted sinks, the water running but not actually washing his hands. He had frozen the second the door opened, actually, which you figured was a pretty appropriate reaction.

And he was staring at you. Black hair hung into wide eyes, glasses you suspected he didn’t really need perched on the bridge of his nose.

Your chest heaved as you tried and failed to catch your breath. For all your many talents, running was not one of them. You offered a tired wave. “Sorry,” you panted, “I’ll just be a moment, promise.”

“What… are you doing.”

Phrased like a question, but not quite. You squinted at the boy as the automatic sink finally shut off, plunging the bathroom into silence. He straightened to his full height and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, appraising you warily. The boy knew how to dress, you’d give him that.

“Is there anyone else in here?” You demanded.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

The boy made a show of looking around, allowing his eyes to slide back to you after concluding the two of you were obviously alone. He shrugged. Not much for words, this one.

You finally managed to catch your breath enough to speak in coherent sentences. “Look, my ex-boyfriend is out there, okay?”

“Is that really a dire enough situation to warrant hiding in the men’s room?”

You scoffed. “Not that it’s any of your business, but his new girlfriend is with him. Who also happens to be my used-to-be-best-friend, okay? I’m not hiding, I’m saving everyone a headache.”

The boy grimaced. “Sounds messy. Well, good luck with that—”

“Do you have a name?” You interrupted. The boy levelled an impatient look at you over his fake glasses. When he said nothing you blurted your own name, at which his lips pressed into a hard line.

After what could have been hours of tense silence, the boy sighed. “Minghao. My friends call me Hao.”

“Nice to meet you, Hao.”

“You can call me Minghao.”

Despite his severe tone and the fact he definitely wasn’t joking, you laughed. You stuck out a hand for him to shake, more than pleased when he raised his own to meet yours halfway. He wore several delicate silver rings on his fingers, his skin slightly damp against yours from the sink. You took some solace in the knowledge he’d been able to finish washing his hands before you barged into the bathroom.

You froze, your hand still clasped in Minghao’s, at the sound of two horribly familiar voices on the other side of the door. The deeper of which was getting suspiciously close.

“Shit.” You moved before you could think better of it. You inadvertently dragged Minghao with you into the closest stall, managing to slam it shut and lock it mere seconds before the bathroom door opened.

“I’ll wait out here, okay?” Chaeyoung’s voice floated in from the hallway, as high and pretty-sounding as ever. Footsteps echoed as your ex-boyfriend crossed the tile floor to the urinals on the opposite wall.

You gritted your teeth, trying with everything in you not to listen to the sound of your ex-boyfriend’s piss. Minghao, looking hopelessly confused, opened his mouth to say something and glared down at you when you immediately covered his lips with your hand.

Don’t even think about it, you shouted with your eyes.

Minghao cocked an eyebrow, something akin to mischief shining in his eyes. Oh, I’m definitely thinking about it now.

To your despair, Minghao cleared his throat. Even through the barrier of your hand the sound echoed, and you scowled at the floor as your ex finished his business and washed his hands. It was good that he did, you thought. You hadn’t been convinced he was a dedicated hand-washer before.

You didn’t release the painful breath in your lungs until the bathroom door clicked shut behind him. Minghao immediately shook off your hand over his mouth and massaged his jaw, gazing down at you with mild dislike.

“I implied you were dramatic before, but I was wrong. That was dramatic.”

You rolled your eyes and unlocked the stall, marching out into open floorspace. Minghao followed, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

You ran your hands over your face, now attempting to catch your breath for an entirely different reason than before. That was a close call, too close, and you were certain you’d never be able to live it down if you were caught in the boy’s bathroom with a total stranger.

“I’m sorry, that was out of line.” You glanced up at Minghao for all of one second before your embarrassment got the better of you and you looked down again. “I don’t even know why I dragged you in there with me, you would’ve been fine out here.”

He looked you up and down, allowing the silence to drag on for long enough that your skin prickled with unease. You took the opportunity to appraise him, as well. You’d be damned if you let some random college guy in a bathroom make you feel small.

Minghao’s hair, you realized now, was cut into a tasteful mullet. He wore some variation of streetwear, though you recognized the logos of a luxury brand or two as you examined him. Was he rich or just really into fashion? Maybe both, though you suspected it was more of the latter.

“Your boyfriend is Joshua Hong?”

“Ex-boyfriend,” you corrected sourly. “But yeah. We dated for two years before I caught those two in bed together.”

Minghao didn’t react, which you weren’t sure how to feel about. He didn’t seem to pity you, at least. You were so sick of people pitying you. “I have a proposition for you,” he said neutrally.

“No, I won’t have sex with you.” You answered immediately.

Minghao smiled humorlessly. “If we have sex, darling, I won’t be the one asking for it.” He ignored your scowl and continued calmly, “I think I have an idea that can fix your problem.”

You tried to let it go, you really did, but curiosity swiftly got the better of you. With an aggrieved sigh, you motioned impatiently for him to go on.

“Go out with me.”

“What?”

“You heard me just fine. I don’t mean actually, of course, but no one else needs to know that. There’s nothing to make the ex jealous like dating someone new.” He spoke like it was the most normal thing in the word. Like the prospect of fake-dating someone was completely logical.

Your mouth opened and closed several times, completely unable to form words. “We go to a big university but it’s not that big,” you choked out. “Some people are bound to remember you and I have never spoken before today.”

“So? People form new, spontaneous relationships every day.”

That was true enough. You eyed him warily, trying to find any hints of ulterior motives in his cool exterior. Unfortunately, Minghao didn’t waver an inch. He stared back at you with an expectant smile, obviously anticipating you to agree, and it was around this time that you realized he was intimidatingly handsome.

“Why? What’s in this for you?” You asked.

He waved a dismissive hand between you. “It doesn’t matter. Just know this is a mutually-beneficial agreement. Think about it, you know I’m right.”

You couldn’t decide whether you wanted to kiss him for his great idea or punch him because he’d thought of it before you.

“For how long?” You asked. With every passing second you came closer to folding.

Minghao considered for a moment, staring at a point somewhere over your head. “Six weeks. That’s a month-and-a-half—if Joshua isn’t begging to have you back by then it means he probably won’t.”

Ouch. He was right, you figured. You did want Joshua to beg for you back, but you had absolutely zero intention of actually saying yes to him if he did. His and Chaeyoung’s actions had cut far too deep to heal back to the way it was before. There was a jagged, metaphorical scar that would probably give you grief until the day you died.

Without another word or attempt to convince yourself otherwise, you stuck your hand out in front of you again. Minghao’s eyes fell to it. They widened slightly, your only indication that at least some part of him had doubted that you would say yes.

“You’ve got a deal, Minghao. The arrangement will last six weeks—no more, no less.”

Minghao smiled down at you, the sight only confirming your suspicion that he was very handsome. His long, delicate fingers grasped yours, gentler this time than when you’d shook his hand to introduce yourself.

“Six weeks,” he agreed. “No less.”

You took a deep, steadying breath. What the hell had you just gotten yourself into?

~ DAY EIGHT ~

“Why are you making me go to a football game, again?”

“Because I’m president of the photography club and I have to be there. If we’re dating that means you do, too.”

“But Joshua’s on the football team,” you lamented.

“Even better. Who knows, maybe I’ll get a candid shot of him eating his heart out.”

Despite yourself, you grinned. You figured out more every day that Minghao was genuinely funny when he wanted to be.

It had been a little over a week since the incident in the bathroom. As you’d mentioned in passing, the university you went to was big, but Minghao somehow managed to find you wherever you were.

The day after the restroom debacle, you’d been eating lunch by yourself in a dining hall close to your apartment. It was a struggle not to mope, most days, especially when this dining hall was one you used to frequent with Joshua. Your ex-boyfriend himself had strode into the building right as you took a massive bite of your soggy sandwich, Chaeyoung perched on his arm. It was moments like those that really made you consider arson, but your urge to light things on fire dissipated the moment Minghao plopped into the booth at your side.

He'd offered you a lazy grin and slung his arm over your shoulders before you could protest. Don’t freak out, his eyes told you. The arrangement, remember?

It had taken every ounce of strength in your body to heed his silent warning. Rather than let your surprise show, you’d offered him a wide smile and leaned further into his side. Foolishly you’d planted a sloppy kiss on the edge of his jaw—that was something couples did in public, right?—and immediately flushed with embarrassment.

It worked, though. The one time you dared to look, Joshua kept glancing over at you, mingled confusion and worry lighting his face.

It continued like that for the next week. Minghao made you give him your phone number and text him your class schedule, which he exchanged for his. He showed up to your classes anytime he could, waiting outside in the hall so he could walk you to your next one. He began eating lunch with you in the same dining hall as the first time and put extra effort into his boyfriend façade when Joshua was around.

Outside of that, though, you tended not to speak to one another. He didn’t text, so you didn’t bother to either. He hadn’t yet asked you on a date off-campus, something which simultaneously relieved and disappointed you. You knew you’d have to, eventually, and going to the football game with him seemed like a good way to dip your toe in the water.

Minghao waved his hand in front of your face, forcing you back to the present. “Well? Are you coming with me or not? You can’t deny this is a perfect opportunity for operation jealousy.”

You sighed, but it was mainly for dramatic effect. You both knew you would say yes, especially when things like this were the whole point of your fake relationship, anyway. “Yeah, I’ll come with. Don’t expect me to start making out with you every time they score a touchdown, though.”

The smile Minghao gave you was downright diabolical. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

-----

For all your protesting, the football game was actually kind of fun. Really fun. On a good day you didn’t know the first thing about football, so you tended to watch games based on vibes alone. Today, your university was leading 4-0 and Joshua was playing poorly, hopelessly distracted by the way you hung off Minghao’s arm on the edge of the field. The vibes were immaculate.

Minghao shifted so he stood behind you, looping his camera strap over your head so you could hold the camera while keeping your back pressed to his front. Your mind hyper-focused on the way his chest brushed your shoulders on every inhale. He was blissfully warm, especially when contrasted with the brisk November air around you.

“I already adjusted the settings for you. All you have to do is point and shoot.”

You lifted the camera so you could squint through the viewfinder. “Point and shoot. Got it.”

Minghao made it look way easier than it really was. He’d taken you to the photo lab a few days ago so you could talk through the details of your arrangement, speaking lowly under red light while his pictures developed. Every photo you took turned out just blurry enough that it was unusable, save for one or two shots of the crowd.

He didn’t seem to mind. At some points he rested his chin on top of your head while the two of you flipped through pictures you’d taken. At others his hands drifted up your forearms to your wrists, his fingertips raising goosebumps across your skin. He was good, you had to give him that. If you weren’t careful, you would start to believe his act.

The crowd went wild at something you didn’t see. You raised the camera like it was a gun, searching wildly for what had caused the ruckus. “What happened? What did I miss?”

Minghao chuckled in your ear. “Joshua just got the ball thirty yards closer to the endzone in one play. It’s impressive.”

You scowled, unconvinced. “Yeah, well I’d like to see him not cheat on one of his girlfriends. That I’d be impressed with.”

Minghao laughed again. You pointedly ignored the swell of warmth in your chest at the sound. He raised the camera until the strap lifted over your head, freeing you once again. You stepped away from him, more for your sanity than anything else, and rolled your tense shoulders.

“How many innings are left?” You asked. He just stared at you, his eyebrows raised so high they disappeared behind his hair. “Close your mouth, you’re going to catch flies.”

Without a word, Minghao raised the camera and snapped a picture of you. You narrowed your eyes, confused. He tugged on the end of one of your braids. “There aren’t innings in football, darling. You’re thinking of baseball.”

Embarrassment flooded your cheeks. “Damn. I promise I’m not stupid, I’m just not much of a sports girl. Not these types of sports, anyway.”

Minghao nodded knowingly. “At least you’re pretty.” Did he really mean it or was he just teasing you? Usually that phrase was meant to be mean-spirited, but you could never really tell with him. “What sports are you referring to?”

“Hockey, mainly. But competitive swimming was always my favorite sport in the summer Olympics, so.”

He gave you a strange look like he was trying to hold in a laugh. “Weirdly enough, that makes sense for you.”

“Yeah, well.” You gestured to the field in front of you, scanning the players for the dreaded #05. You found Joshua just in time to watch him blow a kiss to Chaeyoung on the other side of the field, her cheerleading outfit glittering under the stadium lights. You exhaled heavily through your nose. They were perfect together. Straight out of some college romcom—you never stood a chance.

Minghao noticed what had drawn your attention. He took another photo of you staring across the field and approached to stand at your side again. “Her hair looks hideous.”

“No it doesn’t.”

He tugged on one of your braids again. “No. It doesn’t,” he conceded. “I’m trying to help you feel better.”

You appreciated it, you really did. Appreciated him. This past week had been the best you’d had since Joshua cheated on you, something you didn’t realize until this moment. For several seconds, you just stared at him. Minghao stared back, his expression unreadable. He’d lost the fake glasses—blue light glasses, he’d corrected—for the game tonight, his eyes a warm brown without them.

Before you could respond, the crowd erupted into screams. You whipped around to face the field, your eyes straining to find what was happening in the cacophony of male bodies.

There. Joshua had the ball. And he was running—sprinting for the endzone twenty yards away. Despite yourself, despite your anger and hurt with him, your heart squeezed painfully. Your blood sang, urging him to run faster. You might have yelled it, doing some sort of awkward side-trot along the field with him. Minghao did the same, obviously as invested in the score as you were. He kept his camera raised as he did, continuously snapping pictures of the action.

Several members of the other team closed in on him, but Joshua only pushed himself faster. He narrowly dodged the two men that attempted to tackle him and, in a display of athleticism that stunned you, dove across the line into the endzone.

The noise that followed was deafening. You jumped and screamed along with the crowd, just for a moment forgetting about everything weighing on your mind. Minghao’s long arms encircled your waist and he lifted you off the ground so he could spin in a wide circle with you. You laughed so hard your cheeks hurt, joy bubbling in your chest.

The crowd was still shouting when Minghao finally set you back on your feet. You kept your arms around his shoulders. He made no move to release your waist, either, grinning down at you the same way you beamed up at him.

Later, you would blame it on the heat of the moment. The stadium’s screams, the fact Joshua had just scored what would likely be the winning touchdown, the blinding lights—yes, it had to be that. Regardless, you looked into the stars in Minghao’s eyes and pressed your lips to his without thinking.

The kiss was barely more than a second. You shocked yourself so thoroughly that you pulled away immediately, you and Minghao staring at one another with equal expressions of surprise. But without warning, he crushed his lips to yours again. They were softer than you’d imagined as they slid against yours, Minghao exploring your mouth with languid curiosity.

Your heart felt like it would pound out of your chest. You allowed your hands to timidly drift from his shoulders to the back of his neck, then gently tangle in the roots of his hair. Despite the riot of noise all around you, Joshua being carried on the shoulders of his teammates in celebration, all you could focus on was the feeling of kissing Minghao.

He pulled away after what could have been seconds or hours, his breathing erratic. He stared down at you for a moment and took a step back, releasing you once more. You swayed on your feet a bit after his sudden retreat out of your personal space.

“I just had to check,” he said through a heavy exhale.

“Check what?”

Minghao shook his head as if to clear it. “Nothing.”

You turned your attention back to the game and ignored the shaking in your hands. What the hell just happened?

~ DAY TWENTY-TWO ~

“I think we need to have rules,” you said around a bite of your sandwich.

Minghao raised an eyebrow. “Rules? Why?” He continued poking at his pasta, cutting individual noodles into perfect, tiny squares.

You cleared your throat, aware of the self-conscious heat creeping up your neck. “At the game you, uh, kissed me. Well, I kissed you, but then you kissed me—whatever.” Minghao looked down at his food instead of you, but he didn’t seem uncomfortable. “I know it was just the excitement of the game, I don’t want you to think I expect anything out of you now.”

“I think it’s a little late to establish rules,” he said, finally taking a bite of his strangely diced pasta. “We’re already halfway through the arrangement.”

Your mouth fell open. “We are?” You did the mental math, the surprise shocking you into silence for several seconds. It felt like a week had passed, not a little over three. You had spent almost every day with Minghao, even if it was just for a few minutes between classes on campus. Other days you did things like this, going out for dinner and sometimes studying afterwards, sometimes not. You tried not to dwell on the fact you and Minghao had begun hanging out even when you knew Joshua wouldn’t be around.

Minghao smiled knowingly at you. There was a familiar look in his eyes nowadays, one that was somewhere between affection and thinking you’re a dumbass. “Cat got your tongue?”

You stuck said tongue out at him. “Well, my point still stands. I don’t want you to think I’m trying to trap you or anything just because we kissed once.”

“I don’t think that.”

Great, super helpful. “Hao. Help me out here.”

His smile dropped, his expression turning contemplative. “Fine. How about… no more kissing? At least, not unless you ask.” He wiggled his eyebrows and you frowned.

“That won’t happen. I think we should just tack no sex on there too, while we’re at it.” At your words, Minghao’s face changed to mirror your frown.

“Fine. No sex.” He considered for another moment. “Is the point of this arrangement for you to get back together with Josh?”

“Nope.” You popped the ‘p’ sound for emphasis. In a way, the conviction with which you said it surprised you. Until now, you weren’t exactly sure how you felt about the end-goal of your fake relationship. If not to win Joshua back, what was the point? “He chose Chaeyoung, end of story. I think I’m more interested in giving him hell by being happier without him.” You smiled mischievously and Minghao snorted.

“As you should. Fine, then next rule: either of us can end the relationship at any time. If one of us decides we’re done then that’s it, no questions asked.”

For reasons you didn’t understand, your heart swooped into your stomach. You forced a swallow. “Okay.” After a beat of hesitation you plastered a teasing smile onto your face. “You’re not trying to fake-break up with me, are you?”

Thankfully, Minghao laughed. “No, darling.” He smiled when you scowled. “I enjoy the look on your face when I call you ‘darling’ far too much for that.”

“Fine, fine.” You took another bite of your sandwich, chewing slowly.

“Is that all?” Minghao asked.

“One more.” You held up a finger while you finished the sandwich in your mouth and tried not to choke. Anxiety gnawed at the edges of your mind. You weren’t quite sure how he would react to your last rule. “No falling in love. It would just complicate things unnecessarily. Even though you’ve told me that there’s no one else, I don’t believe you.”

“Why?”

“You have that look. I don’t know, I can just tell. You’re in love with someone but you won’t tell me who she is.”

Minghao stared at you, completely silent. His expression had gone back to the unreadable mask he’d frequently worn at the beginning of this whole thing. You hated it.

“Well?” You pushed.

Like someone had pressed play on a remote, Minghao resumed cutting and eating his pasta. “There’s no one else, but okay. I agree.”

You leaned forward. “Are you sure about that?”

He looked up at you through his eyelashes, his expression resolute. “What do you want me to say? There isn’t. I’ve gotten used to you these past few weeks. I’m having fun and I don’t care to have it with anyone else at the moment.”

You leaned back in your chair and crossed your arms over your chest, evaluating him through narrowed eyes. He looked casual enough—he didn’t have to force the words out and there were no physical indications that he was lying. Minghao, apparently sensing your energy, set down his fork and mimicked your stance.

“Do you want me to break it off with you?” He asked neutrally.

“What? Of course not.”

“It seems like you do.”

You weren’t sure what to say to that. You didn’t, not at all. In fact, you were far enough into this… thing with him that you worried how you’d react after this arrangement was over. Would you replace being heartbroken over Joshua with being heartbroken over Hao?

When you said nothing, Minghao continued, “The same goes for you, you know. If someone you like tries to pursue you I’ll step aside. Even if it’s Joshua.” His face turned abruptly nervous and he swallowed. “However, I want to talk to you about something—”

“Did you say my name?”

Every ounce of curiosity at what he’d been about to say turned to ash at the voice that interrupted him.

You didn’t want to turn around. You didn’t need the confirmation that it was Joshua standing behind you, anyway. Minghao’s eyes raised to your ex-boyfriend’s face, his expression holding poorly-concealed dislike. He gave him a saccharine smile that you didn’t believe for a second.

“Joshua. What brings you here?”

He was standing far too close to your chair. Even though you still wouldn’t turn to look at him you could feel his presence behind you like a looming shadow.

“I’m meeting Chaeyoung for dinner. It’s our six-month anniversary today.”

Six months. You thought you might vomit. You knew Joshua had cheated on you, obviously, but according to this timeline he had gotten with Chaeyoung over four months before you caught them.

Minghao’s eyes flicked to you, fast enough that you could’ve imagined the worry in them. “Is that so?”

“You two are dating, then?” Joshua completely ignored Minghao’s pointed question. You knew he was addressing you without having to see his face.

You cleared your throat as a way to buy yourself time to breathe. “Yeah, we are. A little over a month now.” You were too afraid to exaggerate yours and Minghao’s relationship timeline any more than that. Joshua was known to poke holes in anything until it broke, especially when it was you.

At last, you turned to look at him. Joshua was smiling down at you, an expression that didn’t reach his eyes. Months of heartbreak surged to the surface and you pressed your lips into a hard line to keep your face from betraying your emotions.

“I didn’t know you two knew each other, Hao.”

Hao? Since when did Joshua know Minghao? Let alone well enough to call him Hao. You threw a carefully blank glance in Minghao’s direction, one he was smart enough to look nervous at.

“We met at school.”

Joshua stared at him like he expected him to continue, then looked slightly uncomfortable when he remained silent. You tried to squash your pleasure at this. It seemed Joshua didn’t know Minghao well enough to be used to the fact he was a man of few words.

“Did you need something, Josh?” You asked, your voice strained. You lied as convincingly as you could, “Neither of us said your name.”

He looked back down at you. “Oh. No, then. Just stopping by to say hi, I guess. I wish you two the best of luck with… this.”

Joshua hesitated before walking away, following a host to a booth in the corner of the restaurant.

Your eyes bore holes in the plate in front of you. You wrung your hands beneath the table, attempting to slow your racing heart. A cacophony of emotions stampeded through your mind, moving too quickly to focus on any of them individually.

This plan was stupid. You were three weeks into your fake relationship with Minghao and what did you have to show for it? Anxiety that Joshua somehow knew you were lying? Even though you’d begun to feel better in your new friend’s presence, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him as he repeated your name to get your attention.

“Are you okay?”

You didn’t speak until you mastered the stinging in your eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Liar.”

“Don’t push me, Hao.” You raised your eyes to his face, aware of the redness in them without having to see yourself. Minghao’s face was hard with concern and he held eye contact until you broke and looked away. “You’re on a first-name basis with him?”

He was silent for a long moment, considering his words. “Yes. We used to be close.”

You released a controlled exhale, continuing to hide your shaking hands under the table. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It wouldn’t have helped.”

“I had a right to know.”

“Yes, you did. Hey—” Minghao reached across the table so he could lift your chin with his fingertips, forcing you to look at him “—I wasn’t trying to hurt you by not telling you. You know that, right?”

You didn’t answer. You leaned back in your seat so that his hand was no longer touching your face. Seemingly disappointed, he withdrew it and folded his hands together on the table in front of him.

“When we met, you said this arrangement would be mutually beneficial.” Your throat was thick enough that you had trouble asking the question nagging at you. “Is it because of Joshua?”

Minghao’s answer was immediate. “No. I want nothing from him.”

You wanted to slap yourself at the involuntary relief that surged through you. You took several calming breaths, all too aware that Chaeyoung had just arrived for her date with Joshua. As much as you didn’t want to look, you watched through your periphery as they embraced and took their seats.

“I need to go home.”

Minghao seemed like he wanted to protest. He opened and closed his mouth but produced no sound. At last, he nodded tightly. This time, you weren’t sure if it was relief or extreme disappointment that bloomed in your chest.

When you stood, you held your head high. You threw some cash on the table for your meal, which Minghao deeply frowned at. Wordlessly, you squared your shoulders and walked away, aware of Minghao’s eyes following you until you disappeared onto the street outside.

It wasn’t until you were safely in your car that you finally allowed yourself to cry.

~ DAY THIRTY ~

Minghao decided, with very little planning, to take you on an I’m-sorry-I-hurt-your-feelings-and-you-cried-over-Joshua date. Or something like that. He settled on taking you to a hockey game.

He knew little to nothing about hockey, but you didn’t mind. The two of you had made up about the confrontation with Joshua last week. Or rather, you had finally decided to stop being angry with him. You had wasted a precious four days locked in your apartment, ignoring his texts and calls while you tried to sort out your feelings. So what if he and Joshua had been friends before? You had no more ownership over him than he did of you.

Strangely, your time apart hadn’t helped. If anything, it only made your yearning for him worse. You kept having the urge to talk to your best friend about him—to scream and cry until it dissolved into healing giggles and easy conversation. Only, Minghao was your best friend nowadays. After losing both Joshua and Chaeyoung in one fell swoop, the man beside you now was basically your only friend. Your person.

So, you allowed him to take you to the hockey game. You shared stale popcorn and egregiously large soft drinks, appropriately cheering and booing where necessary. You explained the rules of hockey as best you knew how, though the old woman eavesdropping behind you corrected you on multiple occasions. You had fun. A stupid, concerning amount of fun.

Halfway through you glanced over at him and realized that you loved him. It was sudden enough to steal the breath from your lungs. You didn’t allow yourself to commit to the idea of being in love with him, but your denial could only go so far. You loved him all the same.

He caught you staring and gifted you a brilliant smile. Minghao had somehow managed to become your best friend and sort-of-lover in the span of a month, and you suddenly couldn’t imagine your life without him.

You had no idea if he felt the same, but you decided then that you didn’t want to find out. Even if he did, Joshua had ruined you for anyone else. You weren’t in love with him anymore, not by any means, but you suddenly couldn’t trust anyone who dared try to be a romantic partner. Even Minghao.

On your way out of the game, he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his arm slung comfortably over your shoulder. It was around this time, while Minghao gazed down at you with genuine affection in his eyes, that you realized what deep shit you were in.

~ DAY THIRTY-FOUR ~

 “If I see you take one more picture of me I’m going to throw your camera in the river.”

Minghao didn’t laugh at your threat. Instead, you heard another conspicuous click as he took the hundredth photo of your side-profile. You didn’t look at him, still shielding the sun from your eyes and reclining lazily on the sloped grass. It was freezing outside, to say the least, but it was the first day in a week the sun had made an appearance.

The two of you laid out on a grassy hill along the river, bundled in three layers each and soaking up what little December sun you could. Minghao, in his usual fashion, had brought his camera and spent the past hour taking pictures of you.

“If you do that who’s going to know you died of hypothermia out here?”

You scowled in his direction without opening your eyes. “Oh, I’m not worried about that. I’m sure you’ll shout it from the rooftops.”

Minghao sighed. You half-listened to the sounds of him laying back on the grass beside you, your bodies barely touching from shoulder to knee. Goosebumps erupted on your skin everywhere you touched, even through your combined layers of clothing. You mentally reprimanded yourself for the involuntary reaction.

There was one week left in the arrangement. One single week before your fake break-up. You hadn’t brought up your relationship’s impending doom. Neither had he. As if he sensed the direction your thoughts had taken, Minghao’s long fingers sought yours on the grass. He tangled your hands but made no move to touch you further. You couldn’t decide whether to be relieved or aggravated.

“What are we doing?” Minghao’s quiet words surprised you. Not only because he’d broken the careful silence he so revered, but because it was the question you’d been wishing he’d ask for weeks. In truth, you hadn’t expected him to.

“We’re cloud watching.”

“Darling.” You flinched at that one word, so softly spoken. A plea, a warning, an affectionate reprimand—you would never understand how Minghao was able to convey so much with so little.

“I hate that you call me that.” Minghao’s head turned to face you, a look you didn’t return. If you looked at him now, your resolve would surely crack. You forced yourself to stay strong—you only had one week left. One week, then you could get out of this with your heart unscathed.

“Sometimes I think I don’t like you very much.”

The hurt was immediate. You finally turned your head to look at him, every thought rushing from your brain at the way his eyes burned into you. Your hurt rolled off you in subtle waves, despite your fierce attempt to hide it.

“Why?” You whispered.

“Because you make me wonder.”

That gave you pause. In all honesty, you had no idea what he meant. You voiced your confusion aloud, albeit softly, like you were trying very hard not to scare him away. Minghao still hadn’t released your hand, his skin warm and dry against yours. Despite the brisk winter air, the few small places your bodies touched warmed you enough not to notice.

“You make me wonder.” He repeated himself and shrugged, like it was the simplest explanation in the world. “I’ve never been one to believe in things like fate or destiny or whatever else the romantics tell us to dream for. I was very peaceful before all this, you know. I had my camera and a regular schedule and the few friends who stuck around after we graduated high school. Every day was simple, but I’ve always preferred it that way. Then you crashed into the men’s bathroom like a bat out of hell and… now I wonder.”

The breath had long since been stolen from your chest. “What do you wonder about?”

A ghost of a smile flickered on his face, its beauty there and gone in an instant. “I wonder about fate and destiny and the things romantics tell me to dream for. I always thought it was disappointing to watch the people around me fall in love. A waste of potential, or something like that. People become so wrapped up in those they love that it leaves little time for everything else.

“Yet here we are. The majority of the pictures on my camera are of you. When Joshua made you cry at dinner I thought I was going to tear his throat out with my teeth, and I am not a violent person. I could see so clearly, for the first time, what type of person he made you when you were together. Small and helpless and sad—nothing like the fierce girl that came into my life like a fucking hurricane and stole my peace right out from under me.”

Your chest was painfully tight now. “Hao, stop.”

He didn’t. “I value sleep more than most things in my life and I haven’t been able to get more than four hours a night since we kissed at the football game. When I got frustrated looking at all the photos of you on my camera I switched to painting, only to find I had painted your eyes without even meaning to.” Minghao sat up jerkily without releasing your hand. His eyes earnestly searched yours with an intensity that made you want to shrink under his gaze. You forced yourself to remain still, returning his stare without flinching. “You are… incandescent. Breathtakingly beautiful. I can’t breathe when I’m with you and I’m half-mad when we’re apart. Don’t you see? I can’t win.”

“Hao…” Your warning trailed off, his rapid breaths the only thing to fill the silence. Even the chatter of passerby and the drone of the city fell away, leaving you in a cocoon of quiet.

His hand released yours so that he could hold your face, his thumbs tracing gentle circles across your cheeks. Fire bloomed beneath your skin, flaring everywhere he made contact. Your hands raised to cover his, neither of you moving as you stared deeply into one another’s eyes. You were certain you looked crazy to anyone walking by.

For one tiny, insignificant moment, you allowed yourself to hope. It unfurled in your chest and beat alongside your heart. The possibility that this beautiful man could truly want you the way you wanted him rendered you speechless.

Minghao’s thumb traced your bottom lip and he groaned softly at the heated breath you released. “I have fallen so deeply, irreversibly in love with you that I don’t think my heart will ever truly belong to me again.” His words shocked you to your very core.

He leaned forward, watching your expression through hooded eyes. His warm breath mingled with yours and your entire body locked at his proximity. He was going to kiss you. Again. Only this time there was no crowd, no Joshua watching from the football field, no adrenaline to spur you on. If you kissed him now, there was nothing to blame it on.

Minghao’s lips brushed yours. You’d forgotten how soft they were—the way his breath made goosebumps skitter like beetles across your spine. His fingers were so long that they disappeared in your hairline, tangling in your roots like he never meant to let you go. He parted his lips to deepen the kiss and you felt his tongue ghost across your bottom lip.

You jerked away. You scrambled to your feet faster than he could react, your chest heaving. Minghao stared up at you, dazed, his breathing irregular for an entirely different reason than yours.

“What are you doing?” There was venom in your voice. More than you had intended, judging by the way he flinched back. When he said nothing, you bit out, “Are you trying to hurt me?”

Minghao’s eyes widened. “What? No—”

“Just stop, Hao.” The angry beast in your chest settled, retreating into its slumber as fast as it had awoken. Your shoulders sagged and you looked at your feet. You were abruptly exhausted, sadness nipping at your cheeks as surely as the winter around you. “You don’t mean it. I know you think you do—” you rushed when he opened his mouth to interrupt you “—but you don’t.”

“How could you possibly know that?” he huffed indignantly.

“This whole arrangement is based on a lie. We’ve been pretending to be in love for five weeks, it’s bound to have affected one of us after a while.”

“One of us?” Minghao surged to his feet, suddenly crowding your space. His hands took hold of your face again and he earnestly searched your eyes. You kept your expression blank, worried that if you showed any sort of emotion then you’d crack. “One of us? Tell me you don’t feel it too. Look me in the eye right now and tell me you aren’t in love with me.”

And there it was. The point of no return. You knew you’d have to lie, but would he believe you? It was the only way to spare him—spare either of you—from any further heartbreak because of your baggage. You couldn’t stand to see him hurt, to be the one that hurt him, but you had no other choice.

So, you once again placed your hands over his on your cheeks and took a deep breath. “I’m not in love with you, Hao. I never have been.”

For several moments, it appeared as if he hadn’t heard you. Minghao froze until, all at once, your words crashed into him and he stumbled back as if he’d been burned.

“You’re lying,” he breathed.

You squared your shoulders, still keeping your mask in that unkind, emotionless mask. “I’m not. I’m so sorry I led you on, I swear I never meant to. But we had rules, Hao. We made rules to prevent anything like this happening and you went and broke them anyway.”

You were being cruel, you knew you were. It was the only way. That’s what you kept telling yourself, over and over, as the affection in Minghao’s eyes turned to hurt, then to ice.

“Why are you saying this? Did something happen with Joshua?”

You attempted to laugh but it sounded strangled to your own ears. “No, nothing happened with Joshua. I want nothing to do with him. If we were to do this, it would only hurt worse down the line. I just… I wish you hadn’t said anything.”

Minghao backed up a step, then another, each of his footfalls a resounding crack in your heart. “Forget I did. You know what? Forget all of this.” He turned to walk away but stopped immediately and looked at you over his shoulder. “I don’t know you. I don’t know what happened, but if you’d rather be alone then fine.”

“It’s better that way.”

Minghao’s eyes shuttered. He turned and began striding up the hill as fast as his legs could carry him. He didn’t turn to look at you again, and never once did you look away.

~ DAY FORTY ~

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

You jumped hard enough that you dropped your noodles in midair. They plunked back into your bowl and nearly splashed Joshua’s expensive leather jacket as he slid into the booth next to you. Your eyes raised slowly to look at him, taking in the look of vague distaste he gave you. “And you look like shit.”

You smiled sourly. “Gee, thanks.” It wasn’t anything you didn’t already know. In the past six days, you had barely eaten or slept, and you’d taken your first post-breakup shower only yesterday. Breakup, if you could even call it that. It sure felt like one.

“I heard you broke up with Minghao.”

You cringed. At this point, who hadn’t heard? It seemed like everywhere you turned, someone was whispering or staring at you. “That’s none of your business.” You tried to nonchalantly take another bite of your ramen but it might as well have tasted like tar.

“Fair enough, but who else is going to talk to you about it?”

Unfortunately true. “Why do you care, Josh?”

His eyes softened, just barely. “Because I still care about you.” You threw him a skeptical glare. “And because you’re infecting the entire campus with your heartbreak. It’s making everyone uncomfortable.”

“Everyone meaning you?” The timid smile on your face faded. You stabbed at your food, your appetite long gone. Before you could think better of it, you blurted, “It wasn’t real.”

Joshua’s brows furrowed. “What wasn’t real?”

“Any of it. Minghao and I never dated. It was… stupid, now that I think about it, but this all started because I barged into the boy’s bathroom trying to avoid you and Chaeyoung.”

Your chest felt inexplicably lighter after your confession. You thought that you’d be humiliated if Joshua ever found out, but you realized now you didn’t care. You’d gotten a best friend out of it, even if you’d gone and fucked it up five weeks in.

Joshua stared at you beneath lowered brows, his arms crossed over his chest. Your eyes flicked nervously between his face and the dining hall around him. “Why aren’t you saying anything? Don’t feel like embarrassing me today?”

“I don’t believe you.”

You scoffed. “What?”

“I don’t believe you.” Joshua shrugged. He leaned forward and stole your chopsticks out of your hand, then proceeded to brazenly take a bite of your ramen.

You stared at him, speechless for several seconds too long. “I… don’t know what to say to that. Am I supposed to convince you that I rashly entered a fake relationship to both make you jealous and angry?”

“Maybe it started out that way, but you’re definitely in love with him now. You weren’t this heartbroken after we broke up, I can tell you that much.” Joshua hit his chest with a fist and returned your utensils, a grimace on his face. “This is so spicy, what’s wrong with you?”

You didn’t reply. You just looked at him, your mind racing. You muttered at last, “It doesn’t matter if I’m in love with him. Hell, it doesn’t even matter if he’s in love with me. He doesn’t want me. He doesn’t want all the baggage I have to bring into a real relationship.”

“What baggage?” He shot back. You stared at him incredulously, waiting for him to get it. Recognition flared in Joshua’s eyes and he smiled apologetically. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Have you asked him if he cares about your baggage?”

You frowned. “Well, no. But who would?”

“I think you’re forgetting that he already knows about your baggage. At least the me part of it. If what you’re telling me is true—which is crazy, by the way—then he literally got involved with you on the basis of your emotional issues.”

That was a good point, actually. You took another bite of your noodles, attempting to shake off the misplaced hope Joshua had instilled in you. “It doesn’t matter. I broke it off when he confessed. I was kind of a bitch to him, actually, so I’m not sure he ever wants to see me again.”

“I wouldn’t hold your breath on that. He looks just as bad as you do, you know. Whatever you said to him, it worked, but I know Minghao. At least, I used to. To this day I haven’t met anyone even close to the man he is. He’ll forgive you if you’re honest.” Joshua stood and stretched his shoulders, his neck still flushed from eating your food. You stared up at him, more than a little dumbfounded. “Look, there’s an exhibition for the school of photography on Friday. Student admission is included in the cost of tuition.”

You knew what he was trying to tell you. Minghao would be there, no doubt about it. If you wanted to mend things with him, it was your best opportunity to talk to him somewhere he couldn’t shut a door in your face.

He had just turned to walk away when you spoke. “Why do you even care, Joshua?”

He stopped. When he looked at you again, there was genuine regret in his eyes. “I owe you. A lot more than this, considering what I did. Consider this my first act of earning forgiveness.”

“It was Chaeyoung’s idea, wasn’t it?”

He smiled wryly. “She misses you. Even if you never speak to her again, she wants you to be happy.”

Joshua said nothing else before he walked back into the throng of students in the dining hall. You remained frozen for a long time, your ramen now ice-cold and your thoughts running circles around you.

Fear had made you break it off with Minghao at the moment he told you everything you’d been dying to hear. He’d confessed and you’d thrown it in his face, believing yourself too broken to be with someone like him. He was the sun, you were a violent storm. Where he was peace personified, you often felt closer to screaming until the heavens fell. It shouldn’t work between you, but it did.

You loved him. That much was simple. It wasn’t until this very moment that you truly considered he might love you too. He had basically said as much, but it was now, six days late, that you believed him. If Minghao felt even half as miserable as you did now, you would spend the rest of your life trying to get over the guilt of hurting him.

You groaned and let your head fall into your hands. You had royally fucked up.

~ DAY FORTY-TWO ~

It seemed kismet that the exhibition—a.k.a. your excuse to beg for Minghao’s forgiveness—took place on what should have been the last day of the arrangement. You hadn’t even been sure you would show up until you arrived at the gallery.

I’m not gonna go, you’d said to yourself while curling your hair. You’d struggled to choose between two outfits, both of which Minghao had bought for you towards the beginning of this whole thing. Sooo not going. You’d decided to put on a little bit of makeup at the last minute. I’m just gonna order takeout again.

Now, you stood in front of the glass gallery doors, your heart in your throat and fear creeping in at the edges of your vision. It would be so much easier to walk away. He hadn’t seen you yet, it wasn’t too late to back out.

Your feet carried you forward without your permission. Each step was more confident than you really felt. Even if he wouldn’t give you another chance, which you wouldn’t blame him for, you were possessed by the need to tell him he’d been right. You did love him, and you were a fool, and your inability to love maturely was not his fault.

The gallery was beautiful, architecturally speaking. Everything inside the white stone building was pale, glossy wood, accented with stainless steel and glass. A large crystal chandelier dominated most of the lobby space, looking more like dripping ice as it hung over the crowd below. Every wall, even disappearing into the corridors branching off from the lobby, were covered by student work.

Low voices formed a steady hum around you, most people enraptured by the photos on the walls. You found yourself among them. Some of these photographs were incredible. It was obvious to you that your peers had poured their entire souls into their work, and some of these images were somehow better quality than your actual vision. For the first time, you understood what drew Minghao to photography as an art form.

You walked slowly along the wall, stopping briefly to admire each piece. For reasons you couldn’t fathom, a photo of a wilting flower nearly brought you to tears. You weren’t sure if it was really the art itself or if you were just feeling fragile. Possibly both. You continued on aimlessly, almost forgetting why you were here in the first place. You had no idea where Minghao was in all this, but you were bound to find him eventually.

You stopped when you reached the end of one of the hallways, this entire section seemingly occupied by one photographer’s unique style. Most of the pictures were in black and white, a select few of them rendered in shocking color. It was one of the color photographs that drew your attention.

Recognition teased the back of your mind as you approached. It depicted a dripping sink in a public restroom, the entire space covered in grime except the vibrant blue flower sitting on the counter. You had no idea why this scene seemed familiar to you—you certainly hadn’t been in this bathroom before.

You moved on to the next color photograph, but you didn’t really see it. Your entire body seized without reason, suddenly aware of a subtle change in the air.

You felt his presence without having to look. Despite your anxiety at baring your soul to him, you felt inexplicably lighter knowing he was here. Minghao walked up to stand beside you, mirroring your stance with his arms crossed over his chest. You gazed at the picture in front of you together in silence. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t focus your eyes on the art.

“Why are you here?”

His voice almost brought you to tears. I love you. “I came to see you.”

“Why?”

I love you, I love you, I love you. “To apologize.”

Minghao looked over at you. His eyes took you in, heat flooding your skin everywhere his gaze touched. “For what? Breaking up with me before we had a chance to date or crashing my senior photo exhibition?”

You recoiled. “Both, I guess.” You forced yourself to turn so you could look at him. It was a mistake. Minghao looked amazing. His skin was flushed with lively color, wonderfully offsetting the deep black of his hair. He’d foregone the blue-light glasses today, meaning there was nothing to protect you from the weight of his gaze. You realized with no small amount of certainty that you would do anything for Minghao to wear a suit forever. You opened your mouth and closed it several times, unsure of what to say now that he was in front of you. I love you, Hao. You were right. “Are these your pictures?”

“Yes.”

“They’re lovely.” You meant it. Minghao had a mastery over color that you would never be able to fully appreciate.

He looked back at the photograph hanging in front of you, a pensive look on his face. There was a strange, subtle humor there, too, though you had no idea why. “Thank you. It took a lot of sleepless nights, but I’m glad I didn’t give up on them.”

Guilt nagged at your thoughts. He hadn’t given up, but you certainly had. “I’m sorry I gave up,” you voiced aloud. “You didn’t deserve the way I treated you.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“I was afraid. I know that’s no excuse, but it’s true.” You took a deep breath and lifted your chin, staring at Minghao’s side profile as he looked at his photo. “Joshua fucked me up, Hao. I’ve been so terrified to open up again, to anyone, and I ran away the second you tried to give me what I’d been hoping for.”

“I’m not him.”

“I know. I know that now. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. I’m sorry I tried to lie so that you would leave first. It was wrong, and I promise I’m trying. Because I—” you choked. I love you. You cleared your throat and tried again. “I love you.”

He was silent for a long time, long enough that you wondered if he would turn and walk away without a word.

“You love me?” He said at last. He spoke the words slowly, like he was tasting them, testing the weight of them on his tongue.

You shuddered. “Yes.”

Minghao took a deep breath and nodded once to himself. “You haven’t really looked at my work at all, have you?”

It was, without a doubt, the last thing you’d expected him to say. “What?”

He gestured vaguely at the piece in front of you, your eyes following the movement. You processed the couch first, then the fact that there was a body beneath a blanket on top of it. Hair fanned across a pillow, the girl’s face obstructed from view by a glare of sunlight. But one of her arms was extended, reaching limply towards whoever was behind the camera as she held up the blanket covering her. Beckoning them closer, asking them to join her.

Realization broke over you with the force of a tsunami. That was your living room. It was you on the couch, two weeks ago, sleeping the day away while Minghao watched TV from your secondary loveseat. At least, you’d thought he’d been watching TV. You remembered being cold and having trouble falling asleep, enough that you’d sleepily asked Minghao to join you. He’d pretended to be annoyed as he clicked off the television and slid onto the couch beside you, easily gathering you into his arms like you were made to be there. It was the best sleep you’d gotten since before your breakup with Joshua.

Apparently, he’d taken a picture of you before granting your tired request. The photograph, blown up to massive size and framed, was titled To Love Easily.

“Oh my god.” You covered your mouth with a shaking hand, your eyes darting to take in Minghao’s other displayed photographs. The bathroom. The bathroom, depicted more symbolically than it appeared in real life. Another of your hands, covered in flour from when the two of you attempted to make homemade pasta. A shot of Minghao’s fingers in your hair, a tiny blue flower petal tucked between the strands. You remembered it. He’d braided your hair for you before went to the hockey game because you were sick of it touching your neck.

All of these photos, in one way or another, were about you. The story of you, told through Minghao’s eyes. Suddenly, with blinding clarity, you saw yourself the way he did. Yes, you were a raging storm, but one seen through the window of a warm, dry home. If you decided to scream until the heavens fell, Minghao would be there to catch them.

“You love me.” You repeated his earlier question back at him, but it was no real question. Minghao loved you.

“Yes, darling, I love you.” A strangled sob broke from your chest, instantly embarrassing you. Minghao’s fingers gently took hold of your elbow and turned you to face him. “I tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t listen. I already knew why you lashed out the way you did—expected it, even. You were just a little meaner than I expected, that’s all.”

You laughed despite yourself. One side of his lips kicked up in a small smile. His hand gently squeezed the back of your neck and he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead.

“How do you not hate me?” You murmured.

“I can’t hate you for making a mistake. I knew you would come around. I mean, have you seen me?”

You halfheartedly punched his arm as he snickered. Before you could process that he moved at all, Minghao’s mouth was on yours. The kiss was gentle. Exploratory. It was what the last kiss should have been before you ripped yourself away.

His tongue gently probed yours, one small lick across your bottom lip turning your limbs to jelly. Minghao increased the pressure, his hand drifting from your neck to between your shoulder blades, then to your waist. He gently squeezed your soft skin and, completely on accident, you released a tiny moan that only he could hear.

You broke apart immediately. You stared at one another wide-eyed, embarrassment setting your cheeks aflame. Slowly, a sly smile took over Minghao’s face. Oh god. You’d seen that look many times before.

He leaned in so his mouth was pressed against the shell of your ear. He exhaled softly, drawing a small, contented sigh from you. Minghao squeezed your waist again.

“The exhibition is over in twenty minutes. Think you can wait?”

-----

You didn’t even make it through your front door before Minghao had you off your feet. You squealed as he lifted you into his arms, your legs instinctively wrapping around his trim hips. He pressed you against the wall of your entryway, his hands braced on either side of your waist.

He nuzzled the juncture between your neck and shoulder, his lips dragging soft lines along your skin. Your sleeve had fallen down past your shoulder, baring your collarbone to the mercy of his mouth. You groaned at each small love bite he left, his mouth so gentle that you hardly felt the sting.

“I have waited—” he began, and you groaned when he sucked particularly hard on the side of your throat “—so long for this.”

You shared the sentiment. You’d developed feelings for Minghao fairly quickly into the arrangement and your brain had been plagued by imagining this exact scenario since. “Kiss me, then,” you said breathlessly.

He needed no further encouragement. Minghao’s lips eagerly found yours, this kiss nothing like its predecessors. He kissed you urgently, hungrily, like he might very well die if he stopped. You flattened your hips against his, a choked sound of pleasure escaping both of you when you ground against his erection. You hadn’t expected him to be hard already, but you figured he probably had been since the two of you hastily left the gallery.

His tongue invaded your mouth with an intensity that drew sharp pants from your throat. You returned his energy stroke for stroke, unable to get enough of him. Your hands dragged from his hair to his shoulders and further down, your nails digging in as you gripped his ass and forcibly pulled his hips tighter against yours. Minghao thrust against you, the friction making you see stars even with your clothes still on.

He gripped your ass hard enough to bruise and jerked you away from the wall so he could stumble to your bedroom. You barely made it, both of you kissing wildly and breathlessly giggling the entire way.

His body blanketed yours as you fell onto the bed, his warmth comforting and heartbreakingly familiar. You both muttered incoherent praises and I love you’s into the other’s mouth, still unable to get close enough. You sighed contentedly as he began to work his way down your body, taking clothes as he went. His chilled fingers slid beneath your blouse and helped you remove it completely, leaving you in a lacy white bra. He unabashedly moaned at the sight, and you would have giggled if not for the wet kiss he placed on each of your nipples over the fabric.

He continued his leisurely journey downwards, his hands kneading your breasts. His lips drifted across your waistline with infuriating slowness. You whined when he caught the button of your pants between his teeth and tugged lightly before moving on. Your fingers tangled in the roots of his hair, simultaneously enjoying its softness and lightly pulling to urge him on.

“Hao, you’re killing me here,” you murmured.

“Call it payback.” Despite his cocky words, his voice was strained with lust. You looked down at him and immediately regretted it when you almost came at the sight. His hair was wild from your hands running through it, flushed color high on his cheeks and his pupils blown so wide that hardly any brown remained.

No matter what he said, he wouldn’t be able to resist burying himself inside you for much longer.

At last, Minghao unbuttoned your pants and carefully pushed them down your legs, taking your underwear with them. You tried to find it within yourself to be embarrassed at your nakedness, but you couldn’t. Minghao’s eyes devouring you like this felt so right that it put a lump in your throat.

“I love you,” you told him again, as if you hadn’t said the same three words a hundred times in the last hour. Regardless, Minghao blushed again as if it were the first time you’d told him, a sweet smile pulling at his lips. When combined with the lust-crazed look in his eyes, though, you found yourself clenching woefully around nothing.

When your lower half was sufficiently stripped naked, Minghao lifted himself off the bed so he could remove his suit jacket and button-down, stepping out of his shoes at the same time. He did so slowly, methodically, and you watched him through hooded eyes, appreciating the tension of the wait as much as he did. Your mouth dried at the sight of him. His body was leanly-muscled and utterly perfect, dotted every so often with constellations of moles and small scars from past adventures.

“You’re so pretty,” you sighed, pleased when Minghao blushed again. He didn’t let your words distract him, instead settling between your thighs and roughly tugging your hips closer to his face. You gasped as you slid down the bed, anticipation thrumming in your veins.

His breath was unbearably warm against your overheated core and, like he could sense how it drove you wild, he blew lightly on your clit. Your entire body seized, your hands immediately burying themselves in his hair again.

“If we do this, darling, I want to make something abundantly clear.”

You cracked your eyes open, unsure when you had actually screwed them shut. “Yes, Hao?”

Minghao groaned and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh. “If you say it like that again I might never let you leave this bed.” You squirmed, the need to have his mouth on you all-consuming. He kissed your other thigh, allowing his tongue to drag to your pelvic bone as you moaned. He waited until you were looking down at him, your chest heaving, before he spoke. “After tonight, I’m yours, do you understand me? You won’t be able to get me away from this pretty pussy.”

Your entire body flooded with heat. “Yes, Hao. You’re mine. I’m yours—” Your declaration cut off in a cry when Minghao’s tongue parted your folds in one long stroke. He stopped to dote on your clit, working you in tight, expert circles that catapulted you to the edge in three seconds flat.

You weren’t sure when one of his hands left your thigh, but you jolted in surprise when two of his fingers poised themselves at your entrance. He gathered your slick on his fingertips and pushed in at the same time his tongue increased its pressure. You moaned loudly and ground your hips against his face, tugging hard at the roots of his hair now. Minghao groaned against you, the vibrations driving you wild. His fingers pushed into you at an angle, over and over again, long enough that they easily bumped that incredible spot inside you on every pass.

You climbed higher and higher with no end in sight. You were a thread one small breath from snapping, your entire body quivering with your need to orgasm.

“You taste—” he sucked hard and wet on your clit “—so fucking good.”

“God, Hao, please—”

“Come for me, darling.” Minghao withdrew his fingers from you without warning. Before you could protest their absence he replaced them with his tongue, thrusting it into you with the fervor of a man starved. Your back arched and you cried out. A light sheen of sweat covered your entire body as you writhed. “Need to taste it, please—” His nose bumped your clit at just the right angle and the thread finally snapped.

Your orgasm tore through you like a shooting star. Your body lit up, explosions rippling all the way to the tips of your toes. You clenched hard around Minghao’s tongue and he moaned, obviously satisfied beyond belief, as you came in his mouth.

It felt like hours before you finally came down. Your entire body shook in the wake of what was probably the best orgasm of your life. Definitely better than any that Joshua had ever given you, a thought which made you giggle.

Minghao kissed his way up your body, his lips and chin shining with you. “What’s so funny?” He nipped at the spot below your ear before capturing your mouth in his. You groaned at the taste of you on his lips, instantly ready for him again.

“Oh, nothing.” You giggled. “Joshua could never—”

Minghao cut you off with an honest-to-god growl. He moved back to kissing your throat, leaving new hickies over the ones he’d already created. You bit your lip, still smiling at the ceiling as he lightly ground his clothed dick against your core. “Will you not say his name after I’ve just made you orgasm?” He asked indignantly.

You pushed Minghao off of you by his shoulders, pleased by the surprised look on his face as you rolled him onto his back. You felt unbelievably powerful as you straddled him now. He couldn’t keep his eyes off your breasts even if he wanted to. You wordlessly reached behind you to unclasp your bra, taking your time sliding the straps down your shoulders. At last you were left bare before him and you tossed your bra across the room.

He began to sit up, his face dark with lust, but you stopped him before he could take your nipple in his mouth. He met your eyes, confused, and you answered him with a knowing smile.

You kissed his jaw, then his throat, pushing him back down onto his back as you moved to his torso. You didn’t torture him by moving slowly as he had with you, looking up at him through your eyelashes to observe his reactions. His breaths turned into quiet, short gasps when your mouth reached the skin just above his pants.

You unbuttoned his pants slowly, taking your time pulling those down first, then his underwear. Your mouth dried when his hard cock sprang free, the tip flushed and glistening with precum. You had no doubt that the stretch would be incredible—both his size and shape were perfect for you, like he had been designed with you in mind. Or perhaps the other way around. If there was ever a doubt in your mind about how much he wanted you, it was gone now.

His hips thrusted gently into the open air, seeking nonexistent friction. You took a moment to admire him and bit your lip. You pressed more kisses to his soft thighs, his knees, his hips. His cock twitched.

“Pretty boy,” you purred. He shuddered.

Minghao moaned again. “Please, baby—”

You cut him off by wrapping your lips around the head of his cock. He instinctively thrusted hard, nearly choking you, but you didn’t mind in the slightest. You wantonly moaned around him, gratified by the hard shudder that worked its way through his body in response.

The taste of him was addicting. You recklessly sought more of it as you took him further into your mouth, stopping only when he hit the back of your throat. You gagged and Minghao’s hands threaded into your hair, pulling it into a loose ponytail at the nape of your neck. You were dripping down your thighs now, a mixture of your cum from your last orgasm and the new need to have his cock inside you.

“You’re so sexy—ah—yes, just like that.” Minghao’s praises were music to your ears, only fueling you to bob your head on him faster. You relaxed your throat as best you could, pride swelling in your chest when you managed to take him deep. He gasped sharply when you swallowed around his length. “Fuck—yes, do that again—”

You obeyed, ignoring the tears overflowing onto your cheeks and the lewd sounds you were making. Minghao seemed so turned on now that he might explode out of his skin. Your hand found his sac, gently massaging it in time with the movements of your mouth. You felt him tighten beneath you, a telltale sign that he was seconds from cumming.

Not for the first time tonight, Minghao moved too quickly for you to process in a timely manner. Before you could blink you were trapped beneath him on the mattress, tears still staining your face and the taste of his cock in your mouth. He kissed you feverishly, his dick sandwiched between you as he ground himself against your stomach.

“I want to finish inside you, not before,” he said into your mouth, eliciting a groan from deep in your chest.

“Yes,” you hissed. You took his cock in your hand and smiled when he jerked. By this point, even with your previous orgasm, both of you were so sensitive that you wouldn’t last long. “Are you clean?” you asked.

“Yes, why—”

“Good, because I want you raw. I have to feel you—”

Minghao cut you off with a wild moan and kiss, his lips barely giving you time to catch a breath. “God, I love you.”

Your heart bloomed with warmth. This is what you’d been so terrified of? Loving and being loved in return?

He helped you line up the head of his cock with your entrance, notching it in just enough to stay there as he pressed a shaky kiss to your forehead. Your eyes were locked on where he entered you as he pushed in to the hilt.

You both released simultaneous moans of relief. Your limbs trembled as you tried to accommodate his size, the stretch burning through you in delicious licks of pleasure.

“You feel so good…” he murmured, taking one of your breasts into his mouth and sucking relentlessly at the nipple. “God, you’re so tight—”

You whined, urging him to move. He obeyed, slipping out of you almost completely before pushing back in. His face fell against your shoulder and he softly bit down on your flesh to stifle his moans. You unintentionally clenched around his length in response, dragging another strangled groan out of him.

He easily hit your g-spot on every thrust. You found yourself coiling tighter and tighter, dangerously close to your orgasm once again. Your walls continuously fluttered around him, made more intense by the string of unintelligible praises and curses that fell from his lips.

He captured your mouth in his again. Your nails dug into his shoulders and dragged low on his hips—you knew you would leave scratches, but you didn’t care in the slightest. Neither did he, apparently, because his thrusts turned wild. He impaled you on his cock over and over again, his pace brutal and unrelenting as you both sought your highs.

There wasn’t a single thought in your head save the feeling of Minghao pounding into you. You were an absolute mess, as was he—hair tangled, sweat-slicked bodies colliding and faces pinched with pleasure.

“Cum inside, baby—” you moaned “I’m on the pill, please. I need you—”

“Ah, fuck—” Minghao cut himself off and his thrusts grew sloppier, signaling that he was close. The sensation of his cock pulsing inside you ignited your second orgasm like a wildfire.

Your walls contracted hard enough that he moaned unrestrained this time, and he stilled momentarily as he filled you in repeated, thick spurts. Euphoria shattered through you, so intense you could scarcely breathe around it. He rocked his hips against yours slowly, working you both through your highs without crossing the line into pain.

When you both returned to earth, Minghao still didn’t remove his cock from you. Instead he rolled onto his side with his arms around you, taking you with him, and you threw a leg over his hips. You laid like that for a long time, just basking in the comfortable silence and aftershocks of your orgasms.

Tonight had ended the best way it possibly could have. You kissed Minghao lazily, like you had all the time in the world to do so. And really, you did. His fingers traced gentle lines up and down your spine as you drew small circles on his ribcage.

“Why did you agree to fake dating me?” You asked suddenly.

“Hmm?”

“The day we met, you said the arrangement would be mutually exclusive. What did you mean?”

Minghao laughed softly. “I’d forgotten about that. That day in the bathroom wasn’t the first time I saw you,” he confessed. “The first time I saw you was last spring outside the library. You were carrying this huge stack of books and you dropped them without question so you could help a caterpillar off the staircase. You put it in the grass and continued on like it was nothing.” Your jaw dropped. You barely remembered that and were shocked that he did, especially in such detail. “I think that’s when I fell in love with you, but who knows.” He drew back to look at you, satisfaction oozing from his every pore at your shock. He kissed the tip of your nose. “I have a proposition for you,” he murmured.

Your eyes narrowed. The last proposition had taken both of you for a wild ride, to say the least. “What is it?”

Minghao smiled.

“Will you be my girlfriend?"

~ DAY FOUR HUNDRED SEVENTEEN ~

You were almost more nervous to walk across the stage because Minghao was in the audience. Graduating college was already nerve-wracking, but put a smoking-hot boy who only had eyes for you in the mix? You were a goner.

You gripped your fake diploma for dear life—the real one was tucked safely in your purse beneath Minghao’s chair—and prayed you wouldn’t eat shit halfway through your walk.

You glanced out at the audience, finding your boyfriend’s face immediately. No, scratch that—fiancé. You still couldn’t get used to it, even if it had been a month already. You glanced down at the ring glittering on your finger, a dainty, whimsical thing that perfectly suited the man who had given it to you.

The sight gave you comfort. You looked back up at Minghao, who now had a pleased smile on his face as if he could sense the direction your thoughts had taken. He flashed you a conspicuous thumbs-up and you giggled quietly.

You turned back to the stage, suddenly aware that you were next to walk. You wished Minghao were up here with you, but he had graduated the semester prior and was left to support you from afar. You watched as Chaeyoung—the valedictorian, funny enough—shook hands with the boy who had gone before you, a radiant smile on her face. She looked beautiful. But then again, she always was. One of these days, you might actually achieve fully forgiving her so you could ask where she got those earrings.

Distantly, you heard the announcer call your name and the following whoops and cheers from Minghao and your family. The grin on your face wasn’t faked—over the past year-and-a-half, more and more of your smiles had become genuine.

You took a deep breath. Aware of Minghao watching you, you took the first step into the rest of your life.

BOOM! and with that, minghaoyoudoin is finally deserving of her name haha 😆 thank you again for reading if you made it this far, please leave a like and/or reblog if you enjoyed!

masterlist here :)

© minghaoyoudoin 2022 - all rights reserved. reposts/translations not allowed. I do not assume to know the personal lives of the idol(s) depicted in this fic, this is for entertainment purposes only!

#minghao #the8 #minghao smut #the8 smut #xu minghao #seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen minghao #svt minghao #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #svt angst #seventeen angst #kpop #kpop smut #kpop au #seventeen performance unit #seventeen x reader #seventeen #svt #svt fanfic #seventeen hard hours #svt hard hours #seventeen soft hours #svt soft hours #minghao x you #minghao x reader #seventeen imagines #minghao svt #minghao seventeen

[blog-name-idk]

(Right) Hook, Line, and Sinker

*Banner by my love @persphonesorchid

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Fem Reader

Genre: College!AU, Roommate!AU, Fluff, Humor, Smut

Summary: Your horrible friends trick you into going to a haunted corn maze, where you inadvertently punch a zombie. Jungkook is, of course, in love.

Word Count: 12,353

Warnings: Smut

AN: This is the penultimate installment of the Autumn Leaves Collab, which is hilariously the reason I even made a Tumblr. We have one cute autumn-themed fic for each of our beloved boys by some seriously fantastic writers, so please go and check them out! Hope you all enjoy :)

~~~~~

(Right) Hook

It was a beautiful autumn day. The leaves were a gorgeous blend of crimson and gold, the temperature was brisk but not freezing, and the sun was kissing the horizon, setting the entire sky aflame in a blaze of unadulterated glory.

You couldn't have asked for a better day to be backstabbed by your friends. In fact, you didn't have any friends. Just terrible people who promised you donuts and cider and then turned around and forced you into a haunted corn maze.

Your best friend had laughed herself to tears watching your expression change when you caught sight of the sign and realization dawned upon your stupid, trusting brain.

"You betrayed me!" you screeched. Mijin dug the knife in deeper by cackling like the evil witch she was.

"It's your own fault for not looking up the name of this place beforehand," she snickered, wiping her eyes dramatically. You huffed and crossed your arms, sinking into your seat with no intention of getting out. They could drag your cold dead body from the car if they wanted to go into the maze.

"I'll pay for your donuts."

"... Okay."

~~~~~

"FUUUUUUUUUCK THIS!" you screeched, sprinting away from the terrifying clown that had leapt out at your group. Your friends doubled over laughing as you sped off, eager to put distance between you and the most recent jump scare.

In fact, you had been a little too eager to escape, and after a couple twists and turns you realized you were lost. Alone. In a creepy corn maze. While the sun was going down and probably also laughing at your idiocy. Fuck.

For a few slow, spooky moments, you struggled between your pride and your sanity. Should you call Meej and ask her to find you, and deal with even worse teasing later? Or should you just woman up and get through this maze to keep the last remaining shreds of your dignity intact? Suddenly, your phone buzzed in your pocket.

Well, that decided that. You weren't gonna go crawling back to her now. They would find your cold, dead corpse in the morning and she would cry at your funeral and you would sneer at the asshole from your new home in hell. If this wasn't already it.

Meej

LMAO DID YOU SERIOUSLY JUST PANIC LOSE YOURSELF

YOU MORON

LOLOLOL

The wind picked up and you jumped as the leaves of the corn stalks rustled tauntingly around you. Every little echo and noise sounded like another monster sent to get you, and a falling leaf made you jump and put your fists up for a fight. The shadows looked as if they were reaching for you with inky fingers, and you couldn't tell if your shivers were from the bite of the air or the chill in your chest.

In your head, you knew that it was all fake, that anyone coming at you was just a paid actor in makeup and costume. Unfortunately, your cowardly reflexes and adrenaline convinced your body otherwise and you crept through the maze like a very tense, jumpy mouse. You were so intent on the possible danger ahead, however, that you didn't notice someone creeping up behind you.

"Boo." You felt the barest whisper of hot breath on your ear and you froze. Then your body went on autopilot.

"NOOOOO!" you screamed as you automatically whirled to face your attacker. You weren't entirely sure what had happened, but suddenly the knuckles of your right hand were on fire and there was a collapsed zombie in front of you cradling his nose.

"Oh my fucking god," you gasped as you realized what you had done. You crouched next to the poor dude probably earning minimum wage, and rummaged around in your bag. Did you not have any tissues or napkins or anything?

"I am so sorry, are you okay? Wait that's a stupid question, your nose is bleeding, uh, fuck, shit, can I help? Oh god."

Your victim's shoulders began to shake and you panicked more - you didn't mean to make anyone cry for fuck's sake. Shit, who was the real monster here? Then you realized that he was laughing.

"Uh… zombie guy?" you asked stupidly, wondering just how hard you had hit him. He smiled widely at you. Unfortunately, combined with the costume makeup and the blood flowing from his nose, the gesture was not as reassuring as he intended it to be. You appreciated the attempt, though.

"Jungkook."

"Sorry?"

"I'm Jungkook. What's your name?"

You stared at the boy, wondering just what was going on in that head of his and just how hard you had hit him. Because you were raised to be a polite young lady and some of society's training stuck despite your attempts to fuck the patriarchy, you ended up responding automatically.

"I'm [Y/n]."

Why had you said that? Was your first name and appearance enough for him to figure out your full name and sue you? Was that why he had asked? Well too bad zombie conman, joke was on him because you were broke as shit. The safest thing would probably be for you to peace out and make yourself scarce, but you were still worried about the blood dripping from his nose.

"Um, I didn't break it, did I?" you asked timidly as Jungkook got to his feet. He offered you a hand up, which you took despite feeling like you should be the one helping him. His skin was warm despite the fact that he must have been in the maze for at least an hour already.

"I don't think so," he replied, dabbing at his nose with his sleeve and adding real blood to what was (hopefully) just fake decoration. "That was a mean right hook."

"I'm so sorry!" you blurted again, guilt filling you at his words. Wait, you weren't supposed to admit fault out loud if you were getting sued, right? You had watched that in a show somewhere.

"Nah, it was hot."

You blinked at him. Surely you hadn't heard correctly. By the way he was grinning at you - and it was not cute, considering you were now staring at a grimacing zombie covered in blood - you in fact had. This guy was not right in the head, and you began backing away slowly.

"Okay that's great!" you babbled. "I'll-see-you-around-bye!"

With that, you turned and sprinted away despite your protesting legs. You really had to start going back to the gym sometime. If you did, maybe your rusty skills would be brushed up enough for you to defend yourself from this weirdo.

~~~~~

Line

Jungkook stared after you as the moonlight illuminated your fleeing form. Your feet barely made any noise as they pounded through the dirt and leaves, and he found himself even more enamored. You hadn't even given him enough time to tell you you were heading deeper into the maze instead of towards the exit. Well actually, that was probably a good thing. He had to be out here for a bit longer and this meant that you might still be around when he got off.

"Dude, what happened?"

He turned to see Taehyung who was dressed as a creepy clown and, in his opinion, looked way scarier than any undead creature could. Because clowns were real. And they could be anywhere.

"I think I'm in love," Jungkook sighed, unable to keep himself from poking his nose despite the way it made him wince. It was sort of like wiggling a loose tooth, except in this case it was a reminder of the beautiful moment he met his future wife. He was rewarded by his friend's very unimpressed expression, only mildly obscured by the giant red nose on his face.

"With someone who physically assaulted you?" asked Taehyung, crossing his arms and somehow going from creepy clown to bitchy clown. It was amazing what his friend could do with one tilt of his hips.

"I mean I got closer than I was supposed to because she was cute. And then she punched me."

Jungkook touched his nose again with a dreamy sigh as he gazed in the direction you had run off to. What were you doing now? Were you thinking about him as much as he was thinking about you?

"My head rang like a bell. Like wedding bells. Our wedding bells."

Taehyung closed his eyes in resignation, knowing his friend was a goner and probably already picturing your babies sparring with each other. If he was talking about the same girl he scared away from her group earlier, she definitely was pretty enough for any of them to get a little closer than strictly necessary for scaring. He opened them again and scanned his friend just to make sure he was really fine.

"Wait, do you have a boner?"

"She had perfect form, okay?!"

~~~~~

"I fucking hate you," you groaned as you sank down onto the picnic table bench next to Mijin. After what had to have been at least half an hour (the corn maze couldn't even possibly have been that big) of what felt like constant scary clowns and zombies and evil butchers popping out at you, you had finally found the exit. And of course your friends had already escaped and were sitting and eating donuts and drinking hot cider like the assholes they were.

"Yo, what took you?" she asked unsympathetically with a mouth full of cinnamon, powdered sugar, and deep fried dough. "After that clown, no one else showed up. We got done like twenty minutes ago."

"What the hell?" you whined, unceremoniously grabbing your friend's cider and downing it, wishing it had something stronger so you could forget this evening had ever happened. It definitely wasn't because you needed the warmth - you were sweating like a pig from fear and more physical exertion than you had performed in the last month combined. Were you just cursed? Wait no, you did not want your thoughts to go there right after that horrible experience.

And because it just wouldn't quit, Mijin poked your shoulder and pointed to where a familiar looking zombie was strolling towards you in a decidedly un-shambly fashion.

"[Y/n]!" chirped the zombie - Jungkook, was it? - as he waved cheerfully in your direction. Meej raised her eyebrows as you looked behind you and then pointed to yourself in confusion, as if he could have been referring to anyone else. Suspicion began to bloom in your mind.

"Jungkook," you greeted as he came closer, ignoring the curious eyes of your friends. "Do you happen to know the reason I was constantly assaulted by horrifying creatures while my friends here made it through untouched?"

The boy grinned at you, and now that you weren't overcome with hysteria and guilt, you realized that even under his make up his eyes were large and mesmerizing. Wait no, he was a weirdo, why were you noticing how pretty his eyes were?

"Yep," he said unashamedly, his smile widening at your inadvertent pout. "I asked my friends to help."

"I said I was sorry!" you cried indignantly, crossing your arms and scowling at the reason your lifespan had been shortened by ten years. "You didn't have to torture me!"

His eyes widened in surprise, making them impossibly bigger and - dare you say it - cute.

"It wasn't for that!" he protested. "It was so I could catch you after my shift!"

"I - what?" you asked stupidly, now completely bewildered. Jungkook suddenly looked down at his feet, and his voice took on a more hesitant tone.

"I was gonna get a late dinner now, um, will you come?"

Mijin's eyes were now burning a hole into the side of your head as you resolutely pretended neither she nor the rest of your friends existed. What the fuck was going on with your life today? First you got tricked into a haunted maze and now the fucking zombie you punched was asking you on a date?

"Um, it's past midnight," you mumbled, unable to come up with any other response as your brain continued to buffer. The hopeful gleam in those large, innocent eyes did nothing to help. Neither did his adorably bashful expression.

"Okay, early breakfast. On me. Please?" he asked, voice taking on a begging quality. His lip began to jut out in a pout and even under the horrible zombie make up you noticed it was full and plump. "It's the least you can do after you punched me in the face."

At that your friends began to snicker and Meej outright snorted. You felt your own face begin to burn despite the nip in the air. And then your so-called best friend decided to punish you for ignoring her.

"Yeah, she's free," she offered, making you swivel and gape at her second betrayal of the evening. Never one to do anything by halves, she then proceeded to hammer the final nails into the coffin of your friendship. "And she has no plans tomorrow that would make her have to go home early."

"Great!" said Jungkook happily as he and Mijin ignored your indignant splutters. "Just let me get cleaned up and I'll be back here in fifteen."

He jogged away with annoyingly bouncy steps and you whirled on your Brutus.

"What the fuck?" you hissed, ire rising at the smirk on her lips. You opened your mouth to screech at her and she shoved a donut hole into it.

"He's cute," she said conversationally as you chewed hard, determined to give her a piece of your mind. You swallowed, took a deep breath to prepare for your rant, and she stuffed another one past your lips.

"There, there," she said, patting your head as you glared at her, cheeks full of delicious pastry.

"He seems like a nice guy, but keep your location sharing on and if you don't text me every half hour I'll come find you okay?" she said soothingly, patting your bulging cheek. "If it really was something nefarious he'd probably pick a girl who couldn't fight back."

You pouted and slouched in your seat as your other frienemies snickered. Fuck those NPCs. You didn't know them. They weren't even important enough to have names in this universe.

You sulked while you waited for your mysterious zombie boy. Why were you being forced on a sketchy late night date with a total stranger who liked getting punched? Meej continued to feed you donut holes, petting your head and back as if you were a baby. Unfortunately, it was actually working to chill you out because you were an easy bitch.

"Ready?"

You glanced up at the familiar voice, gasped, and immediately began choking on the powdered sugar that flew into your windpipe. Jungkook had removed the zombie make up and clothes, and while he had seemed cute, you hadn't been expecting him to be a total fucking smoke show even with a swollen nose. Fuck location sharing, you would let this guy dismember you and thank him for it. From the way Meej chortled as she handed you more cider, she knew exactly where your mind was at.

"I-uh-yeah," you said suavely, getting up and tripping over the bench as you tried to get out. He moved easily to grab you before you could land on your ass and you felt yourself pressed against a very firm, muscular body.

"You okay?"

Oh no, he was even cuter up close. You gulped and nodded, unable to tear your gaze away from his large, sparkling eyes or his wide smile. His two front teeth were ever-so-slightly larger than normal, making him look like an adorably handsome bunny. Who happened to be ripped beyond belief.

A flash went off and the two of you turned to see Mijin, who was pointing her phone at the two of you. You quickly stepped away from him, wondering if your face was as red as it felt.

"Don't mind me," she said innocently, tucking it back into her bag. "Just getting a picture so if [y/n] goes missing I can give the police a lead. Jungkook, right?"

You glared at her, knowing that while it was kind of true, she probably also wanted to memorialize the stupidly dazed expression on your face. The upside was that the muscle bunny wasn't offended, which gave him points toward not being a Gen-Z Ted Bundy.

"Jeon Jungkook," he told your friend with a grin and a nod. "If that helps."

"Good boy," Meej said approvingly. "Have fun, kids."

She gave your butt a goading slap as you turned to follow Jungkook away, and when you turned to yell at her she somehow managed to throw another donut hole right into your mouth. Maybe she really was a witch.

~~~~~

As you walked towards the parking lot, it hit you that you were about to get into the car of a complete stranger. Granted he was a very attractive, nice-seeming stranger who looked to be about your age and whose full name you now knew, but still. This was what all those old stranger danger videos warned you about. The darkness of the night and the rustling of the leaves did nothing to lessen the creepiness of the atmosphere. As if coming to the same realization, Jungkook turned to you with an uncertain expression on his face.

"There's a Denny's about five minutes away from here, it's the only place still open for food," he explained, pointing his finger somewhere to the east. "You can tell your friend that's where we'll be."

"Denny's," you mused, shooting off a quick text to Meej. "You're a real romantic, Jeon Jungkook."

That bunny-like smile appeared back on his face and you felt your heart give a hop in response as the two of you began walking again. You couldn't tell if it was just because of him or also because you had eaten too many donuts.

"I also make some mean ramyun, but hopefully I'll get to show you another time."

"Hm, that's very presumptuous of you considering you're taking me to a Denny's after midnight," you teased. "Are you just that charming?"

"I hope so," he told you earnestly, the blush that rose on his cheeks doing more to endear him to you than anything else so far. You reached his car, and he gallantly - and cutely - scrambled to open the passenger door for you. When you smiled at him in thanks, he froze and stood at the door, gaping at you like a deer in the headlights.

"Uh… is everything okay?" you asked uncertainly, grin slipping off your face. Jungkook turned bright red and swallowed, shaking his head.

"Y-you're just even prettier when you smile," he stammered, before closing the door and hurrying to the driver's side. You barely heard the slam over the way your blood began to pound in your ears, and a small voice inside of you screamed that this was all way too good to be true and you were about to get murked. Another voice, one that sounded suspiciously like Meej, told it to shut the fuck up. Mijin had the unfortunate (or fortunate) habit of always being right, so you decided to listen to that one instead.

Jungkook still seemed flustered as he got into the drivers' side, which was absolutely fucking precious. It relaxed you further despite the awkward silence that descended as the two of you tried to figure out what to talk about.

"So… was that clown also your friend?" you finally asked, remembering the recurring horror that had kept you lost in the maze for so long. Jungkook grinned and nodded, though he quickly turned his eyes back to the road.

"Yep, that's Taehyung. Honestly I think his costume is the scariest," he confirmed, and you shuddered in acknowledgement.

"Yeah, zombies and werewolves and stuff aren't real. But clowns are, that makes it worse."

"EXACTLY! See, you get it!"

The awkwardness between you dissipated as you began to banter back and forth more comfortably, and you found yourself laughing outright more often than not. As it turned out, not only was this zombie boy a confusing mixture of sexy and adorable, but he was also funny and kind. You had a feeling you weren't going to come out of this night alive, but for entirely different reasons than you had initially expected.

The easy conversation continued through your late dinner/early breakfast, and you found yourself enjoying talking to him even more than the greasy eggs and bacon on your plate. He was just so sweet and cute, it was impossible not to like him.

As the food dwindled, you found that you didn't actually want this night to end. You realized you were growing increasingly enamored with this strange boy, but you weren't sure if he felt similarly after actually having a conversation with you.

Well, you were a strong(ish), independent(ish), woman who knew what she wanted, right? You were a twenty-first century girl! All you had to do was be brave and be the one to ask for his number!

You took one look at Jungkook's handsome face and sparkling eyes and decided no, you were not a brave, strong, independent woman. He was way too attractive for you to be able to grab life by the proverbial ovaries and just straight up ask him out. You let out an internal sigh at your own cowardice, then eyed the table where his right hand was idly drumming the edge of the forgotten menu. Do it, bitch, whispered the Mijin-voice in your brain.

Steeling yourself, you set your own hand on the table and crept it forward until it brushed against his own. He stopped talking mid-sentence and froze, then pulled his hand back as if he'd been scalded. His eyes were so wide it would have been comical if your heart wasn't currently sinking in your chest.

"Uh, I have to pee," he stammered, before bolting upright and almost running to the bathroom. You sat there, stunned and humiliated. That had actually been worse than just hearing no. What should you do now? Stay here and be awkward? Call Mijin and have her come get you?

Before you could fully make a decision, a beautiful guy who was decidedly not Jungkook plopped down into his seat. Another equally gorgeous boy sat in the empty space next to you, giving you a bright smile that squished his eyes into adorable crescents.

"Hi! I'm Jimin!"

~~~~~

"Why are we doing this again?" complained Jimin from the passengers' seat as Taehyung followed the car in front of them. "I'm tired, I want to go home."

"Because," said his best friend, "we all put enough effort into Kookie getting this date and he better not fuck it up."

"Wait, with that girl you told me to scare away from the exits?" he asked, suddenly interested. He sat up a little straighter in his seat. "She was super cute."

"Yep, and now I'm invested and I want to see how it goes."

They both sighed a little when they followed Jungkook's car into the Denny's parking lot. It made sense, it wasn't like there was anything else open or around, but still. Denny's? Taehyung parked far enough away that it was unlikely they'd be noticed, but when Jimin went to follow you and Jungkook inside, he tugged him over to the windows instead.

"Seriously?" he asked incredulously, staring at his friend in disbelief. "This is literally the creepiest thing we could be doing, and that's saying a lot considering where we work."

"I'm not hungry," Taehyung replied with a shrug, crouching behind a bush to hide his form from the parking lot. Jimin rolled his eyes but followed suit. When Tae got like this, it was usually better to just humor him.

"Man, she's really pretty," said Jimin, trying not to think about the fact that he was currently admiring a girl through the window of a Denny's while hiding in a bush. Surprisingly, the date actually seemed to be going well - you were laughing, Kookie was laughing, and you were smiling more often than not.

Honestly it was beginning to get boring and Jimin was feeling more and more like a stalker. And watching the two of you eat an absurd amount of eggs and bacon was starting to make his stomach grumble. He was cold, tired, hungry, and it didn't seem like things were going to get interesting any time soon.

"Can we go yet? I think he's doing fine."

As if on cue they watched as you tried to touch his hand and, in true Jungkookie fashion, their friend panicked and ran away. Taehyung gave him a pointed 'I-told-you-so' look, which Jimin ignored as he got up and dusted himself off before heading towards the restaurant doors. If Jungkook was too scared to properly flirt with a pretty girl, then his hyungs would just have to show him how it was done.

~~~~~

"Hi! I'm Jimin!"

"Uh, I'm [y/n]," you replied automatically, before cursing yourself for giving your name to a stranger for the second time that night. Should you be worried? Weird things definitely tended to happen when you sat alone at a Denny's after midnight, but they usually involved alcoholics or tweakers, not beautiful mystery men. Well, maybe they were alcoholics or druggies and it just hadn't destroyed their systems yet.

Seeing the trepidation on your face, the other boy gave you a reassuring grin that simultaneously relaxed you and made your face warm.

"I'm Taehyung. We work at the maze too. We - er - we came here to get some food, and recognized you."

A lightbulb went off in your head when he said his name and you gaped in shock. What the fuck? The creepy murder-clown was secretly also a hot guy? Was everyone that worked at that maze secretly a supermodel? They both laughed and you realized you had said the last bit aloud.

"That's really sweet of you," said Jimin, scooting a little closer to you with a twinkle in his eye. Despite the fact that he had probably been outside scaring people all night, he still smelled quite nice. "I'm not aware of that being a prerequisite, but if it is you'd definitely be a shoo-in."

You felt your face flush bright red at the compliment, but luckily you didn't need to respond because Jungkook chose that moment to return. He looked incredibly pissed, which was honestly pretty hot. And confusing. If he wasn't interested anymore, shouldn't he be relieved to have a distraction?

"What are you guys doing here?" he asked flatly, crossing his arms as he eyed the way Jimin was crowding your space. You were clearly flustered, and the way Jimin was looking at you made his jaw clench in irritation.

"We just wanted to get some food," said Jimin innocently. He smiled at you again and inched even closer, pressing his muscular thigh against yours. "But now that I'm here, I think I'm more in the mood for dessert."

Suddenly his warmth was gone and you realized that Jungkook had picked his friend up by his armpits like a dog. The effortless way he lifted him had you eyeing the stretch of his jacket across his biceps, and you recalled just how firm his body had been earlier. He deposited Jimin next to Taehyung with an uncaring thwump and sat next to you, right where his friend had been. His thigh was just as firm as Jimin's, and you felt your chest go fluttery at his proximity.

"Can I get you guys anything else?"

The tired looking waitress sighed when she saw the two new additions to the table, and while they ordered, Jungkook turned to you with that bright smile.

"Did you want anything?" he asked softly, leaning in closer so you could hear him. You were incredibly confused. First just a brush of your hand was enough to send him fleeing, but now he was sitting in your space and looking at you like you were the only person in the room. Maybe he really did have to pee that badly and you had bad timing? Either way, you wanted to prolong this time with him.

"Um, I could go for a milkshake," you replied, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and trying not to stare at how close his lips were to your own. "I don't know if I can drink a whole one though."

"We can split one!"

Jimin's voice broke through the small bubble that had enveloped you and Jungkook, and you looked across the table to see a cherubic smile on his face. You didn't know him well enough to know that this was actually his shit-eating grin, and you also didn't see the knives Jungkook was currently hurling out of his eyes.

"No way, she's gonna share one with me," he protested with an annoyed huff, before turning to you again and looking uncertain. "I mean, only if you want to."

Fuck, this boy was way too cute. You were getting an enjoyable whiplash from the way he switched between being possessive and shy. You nodded, unable (and unwilling) to resist the hope glimmering in his eyes. You gave your order to the waitress, who had started tapping her foot impatiently - not that you could blame her - and brought your attention back to the table.

"So you really punched our Jungkookie in the nose?" Taehyung asked, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. The full force of his attention amplified your embarrassment and you covered your face with your hands.

"Wait, what?" chortled Jimin, reaching across the table to tousle Jungkook's hair. The former zombie scowled and flicked his friend in the forehead, and the two began to stage an odd over-the-table battle. You slumped further in your seat.

"Your hand looks bruised, let me see."

Warm, gentle fingers pried your own off your face as Taehyung pulled your hand closer to inspect your knuckles. You fought down the urge to shiver as he brushed his thumb across your skin, and the small smile he gave you - more of a smirk, really - made your cheeks heat up.

"He's hard-headed for sure, but it doesn't look too bad," he said with an unfairly attractive arch of his brows. The hint of a smolder in his dark eyes made the gesture seem more suggestive than it should have, and you swallowed hard, unable to look away. "Want me to kiss it better?"

All of a sudden, your hand was back at your side, but now enclosed in another warm grip. You looked at Jungkook in surprise, though you couldn't say you weren't pleased at his attention. He laced his fingers through yours, and you marveled at how perfectly your hand fit into his.

"Leave her alone, hyung," the boy said with a glare, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek. You hadn't prepared for how hot that looked, or what it did to your insides, and your cavewoman brain short-circuited at the action.

"Are you going to kiss it better then?"

Oh fuck, you had said that out loud. You watched the glare evaporate off his face as he whipped his head to stare at you, then your joined hands. You could almost see steam coming out of his ears as his brain buffered, and your insecurity began to re-establish itself. Until he pulled your hand up to his face and brushed his full, soft lips against your skin, making you shiver.

Your own lips parted slightly in surprise as you stared at him, fully aware that your heart was pounding and your skin was tingling. His own dark eyes looked back at you, and the intensity in his gaze made you wonder if perhaps he wasn't so innocent after all.

"Is that better?" he murmured against your skin. You nodded, momentarily mute, and his happy smile took your breath away. In a burst of courage, you leaned forward and planted a soft peck on his nose.

"Just returning the favor," you said with a shy grin, ignoring the "ohhhhhhh nice one" from Taehyung. The dazed look on Jungkook's face was definitely worth it.

"You know, I think I cut myself shaving this - "

"Shut the fuck up hyung, you grow like five hairs."

Jimin's offended expression made you laugh, and some of the embarrassment you felt at the two other boys witnessing your awkward fumbles with Jungkook dissipated. His grip on your hand tightened as if taking ownership, which set your silly, weak heart aflutter. You relaxed a little further once Jimin's food arrived and he focused his attention more on eating than on sending you flirtatious glances. Until the waitress brought your milkshake.

"What flavor did you get?" asked Taehyung interestedly, eyeing the tall glass with poorly concealed mischief.

"Um… cookies and cream…?" you ventured with a frown, considering the coloring made it pretty obvious. Taehyung's cheshire grin widened, and from the corner of your eye you saw Jungkook's ears turn pink.

"Oh, do you like cookies?" asked Jimin, having been lured away from his pancakes by the promise of being able to tease his friend. You glanced between the duo, feeling like you were missing something.

"Uh… doesn't everyone?" you asked. Jimin chortled in glee at your response and you spared a peek at Jungkook, who looked resigned and annoyed.

"Well our Jungkookie here is the sweetest of all, wouldn't you say?" said Taehyung with a shit-eating grin. "And his cream-"

He was cut off by a stream of milkshake hitting him in the face. Jungkook glared at him from beside you, straw to his lips and pointed straight at his friend. You and Jimin burst out laughing at the shocked expression on Taehyung's face, and you couldn't help but want to rib him back for how much he had been teasing Jungkook all night.

"Well tell me," you drawled, "how does his cream taste?"

Jungkook choked from beside you, and Jimin laughed so hard he fell sideways into his friend's lap. Taehyung just grinned and wiped some with his index finger, then held it out to you.

"Why don't you see for yourself?" he countered, recovering from his surprise impressively quickly. Your jaw dropped in surprise, and as if he took it as an invitation, he brought his finger closer.

Only for Jungkook to lean forward and lick it clean instead. Which was not hot. Definitely not.

"Thanks, hyung," the boy said with zero expression on his face while Jimin gasped for air. You were actually starting to get concerned for his lungs. "The ice cream was good, tasted like there was some bullshit mixed with it though."

"Maybe Taehyung should take his head out of his ass," you said without thinking, then blushed when you realized you had acted as if you were with Meej and the rest of your friends. They were just so goofy that you had gotten too comfortable, too fast. You needn't have worried though, because Jimin had fallen to the questionably clean floor under the table and Jungkook was staring at you with an even dopier grin than when you had punched him.

"You're amazing," he breathed, making you blush even harder. To avoid having to respond, you took a large slurp of your milkshake, then sighed in contentment.

"Kookie, you invited her to the Halloween party already, right?" asked Taehyung, eyes amused. He clearly wasn't offended by your remark, and that helped you relax again. Especially because Jungkook took that sparkling gaze off of you to scowl at his hyung. His attention was making you feel too many things.

"I was going to, before you showed up," he complained, and you fought down the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth at how cute he sounded.

"Oh please, you ditched a pretty girl alone at a Denny's after midnight before we showed up," retorted Jimin, who had finally recovered and was running his hand through his hair to fix it. You couldn't help but giggle at the way Jungkook's plump lower lip began to jut out in a pout, and you squeezed his hand in reassurance.

"So what's this about a party?" you asked him, chest tingling at the way he immediately perked up and turned back to you. His eyes were so large and bright that you were left momentarily breathless.

"My roommate and I are having a Halloween party this weekend," he explained, looking adorably hopeful. "Um, if you're free, would you want to come? You're welcome to bring some friends if you want."

"If you give me your number, I can - OW!"

You suppressed another giggle as Jimin glared at Jungkook, who had not-so-subtly kicked him under the table.

"I'd love to," you replied, ignoring the two older boys. Jungkook's face lit up brighter than the moon outside, and you unlocked your phone and handed it over to him so he could enter his contact information.

He pouted a little when you did deign to get Jimin's and Taehyung's numbers as well, though he snickered when he saw that you named them TweedleJim and Taedledum. They did tone down their aggressive flirting - slightly - but by the time everyone had finished eating and paying, you wondered how purple the older boys' shins were going to be tomorrow. There had been a lot of kicking from your irritated date, and he had decidedly muscular thighs and calves.

"It was great meeting you," said Jimin as the four of you left the restaurant. The mischievous cast had returned to his face, and he pulled you into a hug that lasted far longer than necessary and only ended when Jungkook shoved him away. Taehyung didn't hug you, but instead took your hand and pressed his lips on your knuckles right where Jungkook had.

"Can't wait to see you this weekend," he said with a wink and throaty chuckle as the youngest ripped your hand away. He stomped towards his car, towing you behind him, and you gave a half-hearted wave to the two monkeys sporting identical grins behind you. You had to half-jog to keep from falling over, but the way Jungkook's cheeks were puffed out ever so slightly was too cute to be annoyed with.

Despite his irritation, he still opened your door for you, and your insides melted further. When he entered the driver's side, you took a moment to admire his pouting profile as he started the car. Then you grabbed his right hand, tracing the skin of his knuckles with your thumb.

"Jungkook, you know I think I like you a lot, right?" you asked, smiling at him. It was a little embarrassing to say aloud, but he seemed like he needed the reassurance after being teased by his shameless friends all night. His large eyes widened in surprise and a slow smile began to consume his face.

"Yeah?" he breathed, eyes shining as he looked at you. You noticed he had a cute mole under his lower lip.

"Yeah," you confirmed softly, gazing back at him and feeling your cheeks warm. You weren't sure who moved first, but then his soft lips were pressed against your own. The kiss was sweet, sweeter than the vanilla still lingering on his lips, and you sighed in contentment as you tangled your fingers in his baggy shirt to bring him closer. He complied, letting his own hands cradle your cheeks gently.

Then twin thuds sounded from either side of you, and you broke away to see Jimin and Taehyung grinning from opposite windows. You screamed in horror and clung to Jungkook before realizing who the fucking idiots staring at you were, and Jungkook swore under his breath.

"I'm going to murder them," he hissed as you laughed weakly and pressed a hand to your pounding chest. It had gone from butterflies to straight up heart attack far too quickly for your preference, and you whole-heartedly supported his statement.

"I'll help," you offered with a scowl as the two idiots gave you cheeky waves and scampered off to a different car. "Do you have an extra shovel?"

"Oh, I couldn't let you do physical labor like that on our first date," Jungkook replied innocently and you smiled in spite of yourself.

"But Denny's and getting harassed by your friends is fine?" you countered, though you placed a chaste peck on his cheek to show you weren't actually bothered. Despite the fact that you had literally just kissed, his cheeks flushed.

"We'll do something better next time," he promised, and your heart fluttered at the casual way he said it. Still, you couldn't help but give him a little shit.

"What makes you think there'll be a next time?" He whirled to look at you, eyes wide, and you began to giggle.

"That wasn't nice," he complained, that adorable pout making its way onto his face again.

"I'm sorry, what can I do to make up for it?" you teased, eyes flicking back down to his lips. He grinned and leaned forward, but a loud honk from what was presumably Taehyung's car startled both of you again.

"Let's get you home," he groaned, leaning back in his car. You laughed and took his hand, twining your fingers with his as he drove out of the parking lot.

"I mean, I doubt they'd follow us all the way to my place…" you said, brushing his hand with your thumb. Jungkook drove a little faster.

~~~~~

Sinker

"You think I should've put a shirt on under this?" you fretted as the Uber driver pulled into the parking lot of a decently sized apartment complex. Mijin rolled her eyes as she adjusted the halo atop her cow onesie, which was the exact opposite of yours in terms of being revealing.

"You're the one trying to seduce a guy who's clearly already gone for you," she deadpanned, making you flush.

"We just met a week ago! How would you know?" you protested, checking the tape keeping your robe semi-decently over your chest for the hundredth time since you'd entered the car.

"I've read your texts, they're disgusting," she said fondly. "He texts you good morning and good night every single day with hearts and everything, it's pathetic."

"I think it's cute," you said defensively, making her laugh and ruffle your hair.

"That's because you're just as whipped as he is."

"Be nice to me," you warned. "Or else we can go back and you won't get to meet any of his hot friends."

"Bitch I'm the one who agreed to come in case this is secretly an enclave of hot serial killers."

"Er, not to interrupt, but is this the right apartment?"

You both looked at the Uber driver, who you had completely forgotten about, then at the building outside.

"Yep, thanks! Sorry about that," you confirmed, opening the door and hopping outside. You shivered in the cold and mentally cursed yourself for going the hot girl route instead of the sensible funny costume route. Then again, you had goals for tonight that hopefully involved a cute ex-zombie between your legs.

As soon as Meej got out of the car, you nodded to the Uber and scurried up the stairs to the proper apartment. Even without knowing the apartment number you could've guessed which unit was the right one from the music pulsing in the air.

You opened the door cautiously, not really knowing what to expect, and a wave of warm air and bass blasted out at you. There was a decent amount of people in the room, and you stepped inside with Meej in tow.

"So where's your man?" she asked, trying to scan over the sea of heads. You shrugged, also looking around to see if you could find him.

"You made it!"

You turned to see twin gorgeous boys wearing togas and wreaths, and smiled despite knowing they were probably up to something already. Mijin outright ogled, and you couldn't really blame her.

Jimin was a vision in white, with a golden belt bearing a sun motif and a laurel crown. Combined with his smooth, pale skin, he nearly glowed. Taehyung wore a green toga, with silver moon adornments and a small toy bow-and-arrow. It played wonderfully with his tanned complexion, and you stared for a moment despite being preoccupied looking for Jungkook. They were already gorgeous before, but in their costumes they truly personified the Greek gods they were dressed as.

"Hey guys," you greeted, but before you could introduce them to Meej they grabbed both of you and all but dragged you further into the house. You sighed internally. It appeared that their antics were already in motion.

~~~~~

"Where is she?" Jungkook complained from his seat on the couch as he pouted into his plastic cup. He had been daydreaming about seeing you again since pretty much the second he had dropped you off that fateful night. The two of you had made out for an inordinately long amount of time in your parking lot, and he had driven away with a happy heart and a raging boner.

Between that right hook, first date, and the constant texts you'd been exchanging throughout the week, it was safe to say he was completely enamored. Not only were you scrappy, but you were gorgeous, funny, and nice, and talking to you just felt right. And amazingly, you seemed to feel the same way. So where were you? You said you couldn't wait to see him, so why weren't you here yet?

Jimin chortled at his younger friend's expression, patting his head like a child. Which he definitely looked like considering he was sagging in his seat in a cookie monster onesie.

"She'll be here," Taehyung assured him with a grin. "If not for you, then for me."

Before Jungkook could respond to his obnoxious friend, a slightly slurred, high-pitched voice came from his side and he winced.

"Jungkookieeee!"

"Uh, hi Dina," he said with a polite smile at the girl dressed as a slutty cookie. So this was why she had pestered him to know what his costume tonight would be. He looked around for help, but of course his two friends had oh-so-mysteriously disappeared in his time of need.

The sound of the door opening drove Dina out of his mind, and his gaze shot hopefully towards the entryway. It was hard to see, but there you were with that friend who had forced you to go out with him that night. He needed to remember to thank her for that. She would probably be the maid of honor at the wedding.

Even from halfway across the room, obscured by other partygoers, you were so pretty he wanted to die. Had you somehow gotten cuter since he had last seen you? He shot up immediately, not even noticing that Dina had been trying to sit on his knee, and she was sent toppling to the floor.

"Owww," she whined despite not looking like she had hit anything. Jungkook sighed in frustration. He really did not want to deal with her right now, not when you were right there, but he wasn't an asshole.

By the time he had helped her up, made sure she was fine, and pried her clinging acrylic talons off his arm, you were nowhere to be found. With an annoyed scowl, he realized that neither were Jimin or Taehyung. His eyes narrowed. They wouldn't.

He found you in the kitchen, sipping a drink and being caged against the counter by Taehyung. Jimin was engaging your friend, who looked more amused than charmed. Your expression was decidedly patient, which soothed Jungkook's ruffled feathers somewhat despite the way his hyung was staring at you like the hunter he was dressed as. Then he got a full view of your actual costume.

He had thought he couldn't be any more attracted to you, but you had proven him wrong. You were wearing a silky boxing robe tied tightly over some criminally short shorts that revealed a very appealing amount of leg. Your knuckles were wrapped in athletic tape, and his nose and his dick twinged at the same time. You were perfect.

Jungkook would have taken more time to admire you, but Taehyung was way too close, and currently playing with the hem of your robe. Something in his brain growled mine.

Then the older boy tugged you towards him by the tie of your robe and Jungkook went on autopilot, striding forward and ripping you away from his hyung. He opened his mouth to yell at Taehyung, until he realized he was holding you and his hand was touching warm, bare skin. He looked down and you stared back, mouth open and face pink. He looked further down and realized your tie had gotten undone. Your breasts were somehow still covered, but it was completely obvious you were wearing nothing underneath. His brain short-circuited.

Jungkook stood there, frozen and gaping, for an embarrassingly long amount of time. Then your friend surreptitiously stomped on his foot, and he came back to his senses. He was not about to let his hyungs see you like this.

You gave a squeak as he scooped you into his arms, clinging to the front of his onesie in a way that he quite enjoyed as he strode wordlessly out of the kitchen. He didn't even see Dina, who he almost trampled into crumbs in his haste to get you away. He quickly made his way to his room and shut the door behind him with his foot.

"Um, Jungkook?" you asked timidly, looking up at him with wide, confused eyes. He froze again when he realized what he had done, and that your robe was still untied and revealing a tantalizing amount of skin.

"S-sorry," he stammered, trying and failing to not ogle at the expanse of skin revealed by the cascading fabric. "I just… didn't want them to see…"

Your lips began to twitch up into a smile, and you brought your arms around his neck.

"Oh?" You asked softly, voice almost a purr. The look in your eyes made his heart stutter and his dick twitch. You brought your lips to his ear, and your hot breath sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. "And why's that?"

You licked the shell of his ear, tongue warm and wet, and something in him snapped. Jungkook tossed you into his bed, and crawled over to trap you between his arms. The flash of worry that he was going too far vanished when you grabbed the front of his onesie to pull him down and crush his lips against yours.

"Because," he said as he pulled back, slightly breathless. You were a vision below him, splayed out and licking your lips as you stared up at him with hooded eyes. "You're mine."

He saw your mouth begin to curve into a smile before he was on you again, hot and hungry and demanding. Your lips slotted against his perfectly, and the whimper you gave when he sucked your lower lip between his teeth added more fuel to the heat blooming in his abdomen. You evidently felt the same, because you wrapped your legs around his waist to bring his hips against yours, making you both gasp as his erection rubbed against your clothed core. Despite the tickle of his costume, it sent arousal flooding through you.

"O-oh, Kookie," you moaned as he turned his attention to the line of your jaw, planting soft kisses and nips until he reached the juncture of your neck and shoulder. Then he began to suckle harshly, making you gasp and tangle your fingers in his hair encouragingly. If his hyungs couldn't keep their hands to themselves, he'd just have to show them who you belonged to.

His hands skated across your bare stomach, making you shiver, until they came to rest at your covered breasts. Then he sat back, looking perplexed.

"Why isn't this moving?" He complained, tugging lightly at your robe. You burst into giggles at the confusion on his face.

"It's boob tape," you explained, and laughed harder at his uncomprehending expression. "It's basically double-sided tape for clothes. Did you never wonder how girls wear drapey stuff without nip slip?"

"I just thought it was some weird boob magic," Jungkook responded sheepishly, and you dissolved into giggles again.

"You're cute," you said between chuckles, then gasped when he ground his hips down hard against you.

"Cute?" he asked darkly, making your mouth go dry. He proceeded to peel the robe off your chest - luckily the tape stayed on the fabric and not your skin - and his gaze went molten. He stared long enough for you to begin to squirm beneath him, and you brought your arms up to cover yourself. His own shot out to grab your wrists and pin them on either side of your head.

"No, let me see you," he demanded, and the pure want in his voice went straight between your legs. His eyes raked over you like hot coals, the heat in them bringing a pretty flush to your cheeks.

"God you're so beautiful," Jungkook whispered reverently before descending again to devour you. You moaned into his mouth, wrists straining half-heartedly against his grip, and he took the opportunity to part your soft lips with his tongue. He licked into your mouth in hot strokes, and your thighs tightened around his hips in an effort to bring him closer. The whine you let out as his cock rubbed you through your shorts made him even harder, and he broke away from your mouth to trail wet kisses down your jaw and your neck. This time, he went past your collarbone to suck bruises that bloomed red and purple on the skin of your chest.

"Jungkook," you moaned breathily, trying to control yourself despite how good he was making you feel. The way he was pinning you down so easily despite how shy he had acted at the beginning was doing a number on you.

He paused to give you a boyish grin at complete odds with the way he was making your pussy clench, before dipping his head to roll your pert nipple around his tongue. Then he sucked hard and you keened, arching into the warm wetness of his mouth.

"Fuck, touch me please," you begged, desperate to feel his hands on you. His eyes darkened further and that innocent grin turned wicked.

"Anything for you, baby," he promised, and the pet name turned you on even more. He released your hands to explore your soft curves, and yours immediately went to the buttons of his adorable but currently unappreciated cookie monster onesie.

You were able to make quick work of them despite the distracting way he was nipping your neck and pinching your nipples, and you forced him backwards so you could shove the upper part of his costume off his frame.

"Oh, fuck you," you groaned when you got a full blast of his glorious body. Jungkook smirked as you ogled his abs, no trace of that stumbling boy left in his dark eyes.

"I mean, if that's what you want," he teased, preening under your gaze. You wanted to roll your eyes, but they were still glued to the hard ridges of muscle on prominent display.

"Shut up and take this off," you grumbled, shoving his onesie further down his waist. "It's tickling me."

Jungkook grinned impishly at you before obeying, and when he kicked his costume to some random corner of his room you sighed in a mixture of arousal and despair at the way his muscular thighs flexed. He was just so perfect, and by the size of the bulge straining against his boxer briefs he was going to be just as perfect there too.

You grabbed him by the shoulders and yanked him back down to smash his lips against yours again, not particularly caring that this kiss was much sloppier than prior. By the way Jungkook groaned against your mouth when your tongue skimmed his, neither did he.

It was even headier now, with his toned chest pressed flush against your breasts. You ground your hips against his with a breathy whine, raking your nails lightly down his back. When you squeezed his ass - yes, it was just as firm as you'd hoped - he bucked forward, driving his cock harder against you. You briefly wondered if you were soaking him through your shorts, then decided you didn't care.

When you began to wiggle out of your shorts, shy Jungkook made his appearance again. He pulled back, eyes wide, though he couldn't stop himself from licking his lips.

"A-are you sure? I was just… kidding," he said, as if you couldn't see his dick leaking through his boxers and you weren't half naked on his bed and begging for his touch. It was cute, but this sweet Jungkook wasn't what you wanted right now. So you pouted and began to push yourself off the bed.

"Fine, then I'll go see if Taehy-oof!"

Your gamble was rewarded as you were immediately forced back onto the bed, Jungkook's hard eyes blazing above you.

"I said you're mine," he growled, giving your nipple a hard pinch. You yelped at the mixture of pain and pleasure, and felt yourself grow impossibly wetter at the edge in his tone. You threaded your hands in his hair to bring him down for a kiss, but he paused, lips hovering over yours. "You're mine, right?"

Despite the aggressiveness of his actions, there was a hint of pleading in his tone, and you couldn't help but smile as your heart fluttered.

"Only if you're mine too," you replied, making his eyes light up. Jungkook had been yours since you had delivered that knock out punch to his nose heart. He closed the distance eagerly, and you lost yourself again in the heat of his lips and tongue. When one of his hands found its way between your legs, he groaned at how damp you were even through layers of cloth.

"Yours," you murmured, rubbing against his hand shamelessly. His eyes flashed and before you could process what was happening, your shorts and underwear were ripped off and you were bare beneath him aside from the robe halfway off your shoulders. His hand went back and you moaned as his fingers dragged along your wet folds before changing course to start rubbing light circles on your clit.

"You're so sexy," Jungkook groaned against your mouth as you bucked your hips forward, chasing the friction. He pressed his middle finger into you, and the sound that you made was almost enough to make him explode then and there. You were so hot and wet and tight around him already, and if you felt this good around a finger he couldn't wait to feel you around his dick.

You licked sloppily into his mouth, rutting against his hand as he pumped his finger in and out of you and swallowed your whimpers. When he added a second finger your breath caught in your throat, nails digging into the skin of his back.

"J-Jungkook," you gasped when he began grinding the heel of his palm against your clit while rubbing his fingers against your walls. He was working you up embarrassingly quickly, and when your orgasm hit it almost took you by surprise. Your body went rigid as waves of pleasure shuddered through you, and Jungkook hissed and pressed wet kisses all over your neck, working you through your high as your walls spasmed around his fingers.

"Wow," was all you managed when you came back to reality. It was partially due to the orgasm, but mostly caused by the beauty of Jungkook's flushed face and disheveled hair hovering above you as his hungry eyes drank you in. You tugged him towards you by his hair and kissed him hard for a moment before pushing him back a little and giving him your best seductress eyes.

"Fuck me now, please," you said sweetly, in a husky voice you were surprised came from you. Jungkook's eyes somehow went even darker and he almost dove to the side of his bed to open his nightstand, retrieving a condom he ripped open in record time. You giggled a little at his eagerness. Until he kicked his boxers off. Dicks were always objectively funny looking even at the best of times. So why did his make your mouth water?

"Is there anything about you that isn't sexy?" you said in a half grumble, making him laugh as he rolled the latex over his tantalizing length. He hovered over you, one hand by your head and another on his cock as he lined himself up, and you reached up to thread your fingers through his silky hair. He smiled down at you, eyes bright. Then he rubbed his tip against your folds and you moaned, tightening your grip.

"If it makes you feel better, everything about you is sexy too," he breathed, eyes filled with a mixture of adoration and lust as his lips fell to capture yours. All you could do was gasp against his mouth as he began to press his cock past your aching folds. Despite how wet you were, it was still a slow, excruciatingly delicious stretch, and he cursed, hips stuttering against yours.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, thrusting lightly in and out to coat himself further in your wetness. The feeling was definitely mutual, and you wrapped your legs around his waist to encourage him to go deeper. When he bottomed out, you both stilled for a moment to get your bearings, though he wasn't sure how much good it did him with you quivering beneath him and your walls hugging him so tightly.

"Please move," you finally whimpered when you couldn't take it anymore, giving a little buck of your hips that had Jungkook hissing. His lips crushed yours again as he began giving slow, measured, pumps that had you arching your chest against his hard pecs. He was glad he'd made you cum once because he didn't really think he was going to be able to last very long. Though that didn't mean he wasn't going to try again.

So when he angled his hips a certain way and you cried out and clenched around him, he maintained that position despite the way his thighs protested. He kept one hand on your waist, locking you in place, and brought his other to rub his thumb lightly against your clit.

"Oh fuuuuck," you groaned, head falling backwards Jungkook worked his magic on you. You were usually content if you could get on top and rub one out with a guy during sex, but this boy seemed determined to ruin you for anyone else and the worst part was that you wanted him to. He was hitting all the right spots and doing all the right things as if you'd been having sex for years, and between the thick drag of his cock and the attention he was giving your clit, you were hurtling towards the edge a second time.

"God, do that again," Jungkook groaned, and you hazily wondered what he was talking about, unable to think past the delicious way he was pounding into you. You didn't realize you were pulling his hair, and when the coil inside you snapped again you gave another hard tug with a desperate whine.

He fucked you through your second high, shuddering at the way your already snug walls squeezed him like a vice. The sounds he was forcing out of your throat were too much, and he felt himself starting to lose it.

"Fuck, [y/n], I'm gonna cum," he cursed, pace growing uneven even as his thrusts became harder and deeper. To his shock, panic, and disappointment, you pushed him off of you and onto his back. Then you ripped off the condom and engulfed him in the confines of your greedy mouth and he gasped, hips stuttering against you.

"Fuckfuckfuck," he choked, spilling himself down your perfect throat as you swallowed around him. Even after he was done, you kept swirling your tongue around his length as he moaned and let his head fall back against his sheets. You gave a little suck that had him whine and thrust against you despite the oversensitivity before you pulled back, looking way too innocent and cheerful for what you had just done.

"Taehyung was right, your cream's pretty good," you said with a wink, and he felt his entire neck and face go red.

"Oh my god," he complained, tackling you back down onto the bed and holding you against his chest as you giggled and wrapped your arms around him. The two of you lay there, snuggling and enjoying the post-coital haze.

"Jungkook?"

"Hm?" he asked a little sleepily, opening his eyes and blushing at the cute way you were looking up at him.

"Did you mean it?" You looked sheepish, and he woke up a little more.

"Mean what?" he asked in confusion, and you flushed, looking uncertain. He brought his hand up to stroke your cheek, trying to reassure you even if he wasn't exactly sure what he was reassuring you about.

"Um… about me being yours. And you being mine," you mumbled shyly, avoiding his eyes. He felt his heart swell at the pink rising on your face, and he couldn't keep the stupid lovestruck smile off his face.

"Of course I did," he replied, holding you tighter and smushing your face into his chest. "You're my girlfriend now, you can't escape." Your muffled laugh was music to his ears, and you hugged him back just as hard until you finally pulled away, complaining you couldn't breathe.

"Okay, boyfriend," you said, eyes sparkling happily. He was elated that he had been the one to put that expression on your face. He was less elated when you began to clamber out of bed after kissing him on the nose.

"Nooo, stay here," he pouted, then tried to pose on the bed in an enticing manner.

"I want to, I really do," you told him ruefully as you blatantly eyed his abs. "But I can't just straight up ditch Mijin when I begged her to come with me."

"Oh yes, the maid of honor," Jungkook said with a nod, mollified by how disappointed you actually sounded. You looked confused for a moment before your attention was drawn by your robe.

"Ah shit, the tape isn't sticky anymore," you grumbled as you futilely slapped the fabric against your chest. Jungkook was momentarily mesmerized by the way it made your breasts jiggle before shaking himself out of his daze.

"I'll wear it, and you can wear mine," he suggested eagerly. It wasn't quite the same as seeing you in his clothes or anything, but it was close. You shrugged in agreement, slipping off the robe - which should not have been as arousing as it was when you were already basically naked - and tossing it towards him as you padded around the room to grab your shorts and the onesie. Jungkook stared at your ass for several enjoyable seconds before going to his dresser to grab some basketball shorts.

"This is… kinda big."

He turned around and felt himself torn between laughing and melting into the floor. You had put on the cookie monster onesie, which was sized for him, and were almost drowning in it. You had rolled up both the sleeves and the legs multiple times and yet it still looked hilariously large on your smaller frame.

"You look perfect," Jungkook promised, making your face flush that pretty pink again. Though you frowned when you looked at Jungkook, who was now wearing basketball shorts and your boxing robe. "What's wrong?"

"I… don't know if I want people seeing how hot you are…" you grumbled, eyes glued to his six-pack. Jungkook's heart fluttered when he realized you were jealous, and he grinned at your adorable pout. He strode up to you, enjoying the way you licked your lips when he cupped your face.

"How do you think I felt seeing Taehyung all over you?" he demanded, making your eyes widen before he bent down to capture your lips. Feeling you melt against him was enough to rile him up all over again, but when his hands began to wander you pushed him back a little.

"Fair enough," you replied breathlessly, sounding incredibly reluctant but firm. "Let's go."

You resolutely marched to his door and pulled it open, only to run into a very irate, very drunk cookie.

"Uh…" you began awkwardly, not exactly sure what this chick was doing here.

"Jungkookie, who is she?" the cookie wailed, pointing at you with a venomous glare. You would've felt more worried had Jungkook not looked so done with his life. He came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"This is my girlfriend, [y/n]," he said, shooting her point blank with the truth. By the way she reeled backwards, it might as well have been a real bullet. Jungkook took the opportunity to usher you past her, lock his door, then take your hand and tug you to the living. You were impressed at the speed in which he had done everything, and wondered just how many quick escapes he had to make from that girl.

"Nice costume."

You turned to see Mijin, Taehyung, and Jimin smirking at the two of you. A fourth extremely beautiful man had wandered somewhere near the vicinity and brightened when he saw you. Despite the pig nose and the blanket he was wrapped up in, he was still impossibly tall and handsome and broad. This had to be the last super hot guy in Jungkook's friend group, right? It was just impossible for there to be more.

"Oh! Are you Jungkook's mystery punching girl?" he asked cheerfully, seeing you with Jungkook. You blushed at the descriptor, and Mijin chimed in before you could.

"I'm Mijin," said your friend as she shook his hand, utterly unfazed by his weirdness. Well, he was a fucking dime so you supposed you couldn't blame her. The man beamed, making his eyes sparkle.

"Yep. It was love at first fight," she said with a grin, and you rolled your eyes at the terrible pun. To your surprise, the new guy's jaw dropped and he stared at your friend in wonder. Then he elbowed Jimin away from her and held out his hand with a charming smile.

"Then it's meant to be, because me Jin!" he said proudly, pointing at his wide chest and ignoring the way Taehyung facepalmed beside him. Meej chortled, giving his costume a very obvious once-over as Jin snickered at his questionable wit.

"Are you a pig in a blanket?" she asked, clearly vibing with her very handsome, very lame suitor.

"Holy cow! You got it!" Jin said cornily, and you heard Jungkook groan at the guy's terrible joke - considering Mijin's costume was exactly that. A cow with a halo. Unlike the rest of you - including a now pouting Jimin - your friend smiled widely.

"Yeah, can you believe [y/n] told me my costume was lame?" she asked indignantly, making Jin gasp in affront.

"They tried to say the same thing about mine!" he complained in commiseration, and the two of them cast peevish looks at the rest of you. You and Jungkook made eye contact and despite the short time in which you had known each other, you knew exactly what he was thinking. What the fuck is happening?

"Uh… we're gonna get drinks…" said Jungkook slowly, backing away from the two farmyard animals. He took your hand again and the two of you fled the scene, once again almost trampling a bawling Dina.

"That's just the way the cookie crumbles," you heard Mijin remark from behind you. All you heard after that was a weird squeaking, as if someone needed to replace their windshield wipers.

"Jungkook, is it weird to say that those two together scared me more than that maze?" you whispered loudly as he handed you a beer. He shook his head and stared behind him, shuddering.

"To never being that fucking corny," he pledged, holding his own bottle out. You nodded and clinked yours against his and took a much needed gulp. Then, unable to resist, you leaned in to kiss him. It ended up lasting much longer than you had intended, and when you pulled away he had a dreamy smile on his face. "I guess it'll be nice if the best man and the maid of honor are together though."

"What?"

"Nevermind."

Jungkook distracted you with another mind-melting kiss, and by the time he released your lips, your legs were jelly. He noticed the way you were clinging to him and grinned that sweet smile at you before easily picking you up and setting your butt on the counter.

"Better?" he asked, nestling himself between his legs and tilting his head up to look at you upside-down. You giggled and leaned down to give him a peck, then stroked through his hair with your free hand. The two of you watched the party from the relatively quiet confines of the kitchen, where Meej and Jin where getting increasingly close and Jimin was now attempting to avoid the advances of a sad cookie while Taehyung laughed his ass off on the sidelines. It was odd how easily things had come together when you were the last person who would ever willingly enter a haunted corn maze.

Jungkook snuggled his head under your chin and you smiled, wrapping your arms around him and letting your hands rest on his bare sides. Who would have thought getting lured out of the house by the promise of donuts would lead to so much more? You knew Mijin would use this as an excuse to drag you out to more activities, but when Jungkook nuzzled your shoulder you found yourself more excited than chagrined. Fall might be ending, but your time with him was just beginning.

~~~~~

#bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts fluff #bts smut #bts jungkook smut #autumnleavescollab

[kingdumkum]

WHAT ARE YOU THE GOD OF, AGAIN?

feat: Satan (1754) ∻ Asmodeus (1297) ∻ Beelzebub (1402) ∻ Belphegor (1533) synopsis: turns out, fallen angels can have more than one sin. cw: afab!reader | dom!Satan shouldn’t be allowed to play with toys but here we are; vouyerism (on behalf of the brothers but namely Asmo); exhibitionism (on behalf of Satan); brat tamer!Satan x brat!reader; humiliation; cnc in that reader doesn’t actually give explicit consent in this situation but it’s been given for situations like this before; Satan is a closet FREAK and i will be taking questions | kinda public sex (they’re in a closet); fwb; really rough sex; possessive!Asmo knows how to leave a mark; slight mentions of blood; feral!Asmo is something ELSE but I’m here for it | panty-stealing; panty-sniffing; perv!Beel; breeder ball Beel ain’t an agenda, it’s the truth; he’s kinda pathetic and lovesick in this but i fail to see how that’s out-of-character | facesitting (on Belphie); oral (f!receiving); overstimulation (f!receiving); soft!Belphie because writing him mean is really hard for me; it’s really just great to be Belphie’s tbh a/n: i... am shocked speechless at how many people enjoyed part one. this was so self-indulgent, but y'all have been so nice, so have a cookie ya filthy animals. the prince of demons and his angel and his human are next.

∻ Satan         ↠         w r a t h        ⤲         e n v y

While SATAN does his best to remain calm, to try and not just put up with his anger but control it, his sin is contagious, and more often than not, he inadvertently starts things. Sometimes without even realizing; most of the time with the sole intent to. It helps, he justifies, that he doesn’t have to be the only one angry all the time. It gives him a break, lets him be calm.

Let him regain control.

And control he has, as he plays with the settings of the vibrator nestled neatly in your cunt. A punishment from earlier, when you showed up to your private study session with Asmodeus in tow. Yes, Satan knows you didn’t invite him on purpose, and yes, he knows Asmodeus pulled the but I would fail without your help! card, as if he wasn’t around whispering inspiration into Oscar Wilde’s ear in the first place, but that didn’t help his barely-controlled rage when Asmo decided the best place for you to tutor him would be in his lap.

And you agreed.

Satan knew why, of course; it was your way of trying to get back at him for accidentally standing you up the other night. That wasn’t his fault though; he’d gotten so caught up in his latest work that he’d completely lost track of time, but he’d rushed over to Hell’s Kitchen as soon as he realized. Three hours late.

To where you were sitting with Asmodeus. Drinking, with Asmodeus–laughing, with Asmodeus.

Asmodeus, who promptly left with a brief kiss on your cheek and playful scolding of Satan for losing sight of something so precious, had the sense to not be seen again, and Satan managed to remain calm until your salads arrived, at which point you made note of how Asmodeus helped you picked the menu.

He did pay for the damages done to the bathroom (discreetly, of course; he didn’t need to be scolded by Lucifer for losing control again), and he thought the two of you had come to an understanding. One in which he’d stop making foolish mistakes like losing track of time, and you’d stop keeping foolish company.

Satan had underestimated how addicted you were to making him lose control, though. Almost as much as he was addicted to controlling you.

His face is as stoic as always, even as he watches your reflection in his goblet while nonchalantly flicking his fingers erratically over his phone’s screen. To his more oblivious brothers, who aimlessly talk about Beel’s upcoming game or Mammon’s latest photo shoot, Satan merely looks bored and yearns to return to the library from which he was so ungraciously dragged for dinner; to Lucifer, whose gaze flicks between you and Satan’s apparently apathetic facade, something sinister lies in his creation’s blank stare; and to Asmodeus, who cradles his chin between his palms as he leans across the table towards his older brother, suddenly realizes Satan’s far less interesting than you–you, whose face is flushed, whose jaw is clenched, whose eyes are shut so tight, Asmo knows you must be seeing stars.

And that’s before the smell of your arousal hits him.

With a deepening grin, Asmodeus takes a deep inhale–deep enough to catch Satan’s attention.

The toy stops moving.

With a whimper of protest, your lower lip starts to quiver. Your eyes slowly open, blinking back into reality; and reality being, Satan was about to make you cum for the second time that dinner, with all six of his brothers gathered around the table. You were close–you were so close, and you knew that, and Satan knew that, and–his teal eyes are narrowed in Asmodeus’s direction. His face barely changes; a tightening of his lips, thinning of his eyes, the pause of his hand. But when you whisper his name, hand stretching beneath the tablecloth to grip his knee tightly, he falls apart.

His stoic facade slips, and for a moment, Asmodeus’s smile slips, too–for there, in Satan’s eye, is something Asmodeus had thought to be too intimate for his brother to ever feel; something too tender for an Avatar of Wrath to possess. But it’s there, lurking in the shallow waters of his brother’s eyes as Satan’s stretch for the jug of wine sitting just beyond your reach brings his lips to your ear.

“Apologies, darling,” he murmurs in a tone so light, it wouldn’t be fair to call it air. “Let me make it up to you.”

You cross your arms over your chest and lean into the table, prepared to quip something back about how he better before a gasp slips out instead as Satan, quicker than you thought possible, pulls out the vibrator.

“Satan–” you hiss, but he silences you with a tense glare. One he makes up for by placing a heavy hand back on your thigh, fingers lazily trailing along the soft flesh of your inner thigh.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, and despite the uncertainty biting at your spine, you nod. He’s never given you reason not to… ever. “Good. I think this could be fun.”

He doesn’t elaborate, and you know better than to ask; the last time you tried questioning what the reserved demon wanted to try, you ended up tied to his bed, vibrator strapped to your aching cunt, for eight hours. Not that you minded that particular outcome, except for the fact you were running out of plausible excuses to justify your frequent absences… or hickies.

Satan’s lips twitch up as he fills your goblet, then goes to top his off. You see the glint of something heavy in his palm, then the splash of something making contact with the liquid in his goblet, then the realization of what he’s doing turns your blood cold as he offers his cup to Asmo.

“Want some?” he asks with perfect ease. “It’s particularly… sweet this evening.”

Satan’s smile could be considered cruel, and in his heart, he knows it is, especially with your shocked-still look of terror beside him, but… this was as close to a blessing as he could ever grant. He might never be willing to share you fully, but he couldn’t pass up the chance to let the others know what they’re missing; particularly Asmo. Particularly the only other demon who seems to be better at eliciting wrath than he.

Asmodeus takes the goblet with a coy grin, already knowing what devilish game his brother is up to. He lifts it to his nose, swirling what little liquid is left as he takes a deep whiff. His sultry gaze turns to you briefly before back to Satan, taking a deep sip. “Made it yourself?”

Satan leans back in his chair, fingers circling around your thigh and dipping beneath your skirt. You bite your lip and fist the hem of the thin material, already knowing that when Satan smirks, it’s not because you’re already flustered from his featherlight touch, but rather because you’ve soaked the cushion beneath you already.

“We did together, actually,” Satan corrects. Without warning, he dips a single digit into your fluttering hole, desperate to be filled after being so cruelly teased all dinner, making sure to gather as much slick as he can. “She’s quite the excellent chef. Everything she makes is… sublime.”

As if to prove his point, Satan withdraws his finger and slowly brings it to his lips. Your cheeks burn with humiliation, not just at the lewdness with which Satan wraps his pale lips around his finger, but at the deep laugh Asmodeus echoes as he dips a finger beyond the goblet’s gilded edge, as carefully as if he were stroking a lover. “Oh, truly,” he agrees, popping his finger into his mouth and sucking gratuitously, “I’ll have to have both of you cook for me some time. I wonder what wonderful things you might be able to make for me, hm?”

Satan starts to frown, and your heart starts to race. With thin lips, he replaces his hand beneath your skirt, but gone is the reverence he was stroking you with before; now, he dives in like a drowning man. Plunging two fingers into your depths, not caring at the way your whole body tenses as you fail to keep your breathing steady, all while maintaining eye contact with his younger brother.

“That’s up to her, I suppose,” Satan muses, angling his palm so it grinds against your puffy clit with every deep thrust, “she doesn’t like cooking for just anyone. She needs the right ingredients, you see. High class stuff. Not sure someone like you would understand, little brother, considering the usual… chefs you employ.”

In other circumstances, you would be fuming at the casual way the brothers discuss you as if you aren’t even there. You’d also probably be in a right enough mind to scold Satan for slipping Asmo your vibrator without actually asking, or at the very least tell Asmo off for being such a brazen flirt–but your mind isn’t thinking that far ahead. It’s all you can do to keep up with the pleasurable way Satan is moving inside you, filling you more fully than any toy ever could, pressing against your core as if this were something he was made to do. Your brain is hazy with pleasure, body even more so, to the point where you don’t even notice Asmodeus passing the goblet to Mammon, teasing the back of the white-haired demon’s head as he’s promised this’ll be his new favorite drink.

Your nails dig into Satan’s arm as he brings you past the edge. He lets you bury your head in his shoulder, softly settling an arm around your shoulders as he murmurs, “good girl.” He tells Asmo that you’re just overcome with emotion about the way your book ended, and he tells Lucifer it’s none of his business when the elder demands to know the name of such an offending book, and he tells Mammon he may absolutely not have the recipe, because that’s a secret between just the two of you.

He does this all while still steadily pumping his fingers in and out of you, bringing you to yet another silent orgasm that leaves tear-stains on your cheeks. By the time Satan’s decided he’s had his fill, his fingers are pruning, his lips are coated from his near-constant finger sucking, and his goblet returns empty.

“Come on, darling,” he says after you’ve had a chance to catch your breath, “we’re out of wine. Shall we go make some more?”

∻ Asmodeus         ↠         l u s t          ⤲         w r a t h

The sound of skin-slapping-skin is the only thing to be heard in the cramped janitor’s closet ASMODEUS pulled you into just five minutes ago. Your hands curl against the wire shelves as you pitifully try to keep your whimpers in. Not that Asmo helps with that, though; not with the aggressive way he’s slamming into you, thumb constantly rubbing your clit in a way he knows drives you insane, sending you jolting forwards into the various cleaning solvents and potion ingredients you did not find romantic whatsoever. His grip on your hips is bruising, but every time you try to straighten, he’s instantly able to shove your shoulders forward and grab your hip once more before you’ve even processed what he’s doing.

“Perfect fucking pussy, sucking me in so goddamn tight,” Asmo growls, letting his free hand trail down your spine to grab your hair. With a sudden jerk, he yanks you backwards, his breath hot against your ear as you fail to suppress a pitiful moan. “Stop pretending like this is too much, angel. This–is–your–fault.”

You don’t know what he’s talking about, he can tell; and it makes him even angrier. It’s not exactly a secret that Asmo has a… soft (or rather, hard) spot for the human exchange students, but there were a few demons that didn’t care. A few pathetic, weak, disgusting demons who thought they could try and steal you away–

He has no right. He’s not stupid, he knows he has no official claim to you. He’d known that since the day you met, and he remembered it when you snuck into his room and shly asked if he had any advice for how to be safe when it came to demons, and he forced himself to tell you, over and over, that he was the Avatar of Lust, and a mere human could never be enough to fully saite his appetite.

So why is he the one who can’t seem to move on?

He was the one who wasn’t searching for something serious, just like he was the one who promised, if you’d let him take care of you, nothing would change. That you’d be friends first and foremost, benefits on the side, no strings attached. No expectations, other than cumming so much you lose count; and no feelings. Except unadulterated pleasure, of course.

It’s a pattern Asmo’s been able to do since the dawn of time, and as the Avatar of Lust, it’s worked out just fine. And then… you, with your soft smiles and softer touch and the way you look at him and see him. Not his beauty, or his charm, or his cock, but–him. Asmodeus, your Asmodeus, only yours–

“Bet this drives you fucking wild, doesn’t it?” Asmo whispers. His tone matches his pace; rough, deep, and full of the things he can’t actually say. “Knowing you’ve got–the Avatar of Lust–pussywhipped–”

Your walls flutter around him, but it’s the low moan of, “Asmo, please–” that causes him to pause. He’s fully sheathed inside you, pulling you back into him as far as he could as he presses his chest to your back. Roughly, he bites at the skin on your lower back, slapping your ass when you yelp and try jumping away. 

“Stay. Put.”

Another bite, this time on your hip, earning yet another yelp–but you manage to suppress your jump with a tremble, keenly aware that whatever mood Asmo’s in is not one to be trifled with.

Another, on your other hip; another, moving up your spine; another, between your shoulder-blades–

Asmodeus keeps you impaled on his pulsing cock, the long member twitching inside with every pitiful yelp you release when his teeth make contact with your tender skin. His hands run up and down your sides before coming to cup your breasts, gently teasing your nipples until the pain of his bites blurs into the pleasure from his fingers.

“Asmo–Asmo, please, I–” you try begging him to move, begging him to pay attention to your clit again, begging him to let you cum–but he won’t have it.

“Oh, so now you remember my name?” Another bite, this time on top of your shoulder. You barely register his words. Asmo snatches your chin and forces your head back. His eyes, usually so full of kindness, are nearly black with rage. Your eyes flutter shut when he snaps his hips into yours, and your whines are pathetic when he stills once more.

“Look at me.”

You can’t. You won’t. You’re tearing up from frustration, and if you open your eyes he’ll see you cry, and if you start crying he might stop fucking, and you don’t want that. Not when he gets like this–when he treats you like you’re his.

This bite breaks skin.

Middle of your throat, right above the pulsepoint he so easily could’ve sliced with just the barest twitch from either of you. Warm liquid slowly trails down to the hollow of your throat, but you don’t know if it’s blood or spit from the messy way Asmo makes out with your neck.

He watches you while he does, pulling back to lick from the nasty bruise that’s already starting to ache all the way up to the corner of your mouth.

“All I had to do was remind you, hunh angel? You don’t need anyone else, yeah? Just me, baby. Just me, just need me-” his voice is soft with desperation, pressing needy kisses to every inch of your face he can reach. His grip on your breast and jaw turns bruising, but you don’t care. You love being marked by him; the pretty patchwork of blues and greens serving as a reminder that your time with Asmo is real. 

“Just--just you, Asmo. Just need–you.”

He doesn’t know if you mean it, but he can’t find it in him to care. Not when you start rocking back on his cock, freely crying as you continue to beg him to make you feel good. 

For a moment, Asmodeus has the sadistic urge to leave. To step back, walk out like nothing happened, and leave you in such a state of want you’ll never think to forget him again.

But then your hand finds his on your chest, and you interlock your fingers while you press a gentle kiss to the palm still clutching your cheeks, and you mumble, “only ever want to be yours, Asmo. Make me yours.”

He can’t breathe, first because he was in shock and then because his lips find yours so quickly, he doesn’t get a chance to. His hips move slowly, minimally grinding into yours as your makeout turns sloppy, only turning into full thrusts when the pleasure gets to be too much and you have to break away from his kiss for air.

“All you had to do was ask, angel. You know I’d do anything for you. But since you seem to keep forgetting, guess I better figure out a way to make you remember, yeah?”

He starts sweet. Sweet as the kiss he presses to your forehead, sweet as the way he caresses your cheek as his hips start to gain traction–but quickly turns bitter when he doesn’t stop. When his hips pick up to the brutal pace he’d initially set when he first dragged you in, slamming against your already bruised thighs without mercy. When the hand on your cheek goes down to your throat, and the other snakes its way down to your clit and tweaks in all the areas but the one you need.“No one else can make you feel like this, you got that?” Asmodeus whispers–though it sounds more like a hiss, with how tight his jaw is. “No one can fuck you like me, so don’t–fucking–bother–it’s just me, angel. You’re–just–mine–”

∻ Beelzebub         ↠         g l u t t o n y          ⤲         l u s t

BEELZEBUB thought he knew better.

Well, not thought; he does know better, and not because Belphie told him so or he watched Mammon get punished for this before, but because this isn’t like him. This–insatiable need, this gnawing pain in the bottom of his stomach that won’t go away no matter how hard he tries. At least with his sin, the last few millennia had taught him how to manage it (a binge here, a binge there, eating constantly in-between, working out whenever else to try and keep his mind occupied), but… this? This?

He’s never felt like this before. So–empty. Hollow. Weak.

His urge to eat you raw might break him.

He knocks softly on your bedroom door, despite knowing that you’re currently in the mess with his brothers. You’re probably laughing at some corny joke Mammon made, offering to split your rice with Satan, letting Belphie rest his head on your shoulder–Beel’s next knock splinters the wood.

Crap. He’ll have to fix that, before he goes back. Thank Diavolo he’s built up a bit of a reputation for breaking things, though, so it quickly shuttles to the back of his mind as his gaze lands on what he’s here for.

What he should leave alone.

What he can’t.

A small pile of laundry, overflowing from your hamper, poking out from behind your closet doors.

He should not be here, but his body betrays him. Again. Like the way it did when you came down to breakfast in a shirt that was so obviously not yours, apologizing to Asmodeus over and over for letting your laundry get away from you and praising him for letting you borrow from him in the meantime.

Beel broke his spoon. Belphie gave him a new one. Beel promptly broke that one too, when you sat down across from him and asked if he had any laundry you could do, seeing as how that might be all you get to do this weekend.

He didn’t plan on letting his mind wander to what else might be dirty, just as he didn’t plan to nearly get run over on the way to school because he was so caught up in wondering if you even had any underwear left, and he certainly did not intend to run back to the House of Lamentation to rifle through your dirty laundry for just one infuriating pair of your panties.

Just one, he reasons as he cautiously glances into your hamper. He hopes it’ll be right on top, that he can take a pair and race to his room and get one good orgasm (or two or three or however many it takes to get you out of his brain), then return them before you’re ever the wiser.

So how did he end up in his bathroom with six pairs in his pockets?

Oh. Right. Because the pair on top were lacy and black and had him salivating, even before he pressed them to his nose for a deep whiff; and then he caught sight of a white pair, just beneath your school skirt, and he figured two is a safer bet than one, and then he thought he saw a red pair with polka dots and he’s always been partial to red, and then–

And then, and then, and then.

It’s the story of his sin; to never be satisfied, never be full. How he managed to stop at six when the image of number seven (an orange thong that he nearly ripped in half trying to unhook from a pair of tights) he’ll never know; how long he’s been on the bathroom floor, hastily jerking his hefty cock with low groans of your name also escape him; but he does know it’s worth it.

He takes a deep sniff of the lacy black pair he’d first pulled; the most recent. The ones that smell the most like you, and not just the fading clean scent of your detergent or the lingering waft of your soap, but you. He wonders if you masturbated in this pair, or if you naturally stain each panty you wear. He wonders how you masturbate, if you prefer to strip naked and take your time or if you’re desperate like him, if you can’t wait to fully bare yourself like him, if you’re a freak like him–

Beel groans and sticks his tongue out, trying to control himself but failing as soon as the tip of his tongue makes contact with the cool seat of your dirty intimates. His cock throbs in his palm, and no matter how many slow, heavy, hard drags he makes up the girthy length, he is left feeling needier than ever. 

And then he gets an idea; a sick, twisted, perverted idea that makes him feel even grosser than before, an idea he can’t ignore as the heat in his stomach starts to convulse. He picks up another pair (he knew it’d be good to take multiple), the white ones he’d had to wrestle from your skirt, and he grips them tight in hand.

He hesitates for a moment. Holds his breath, staring at the pale fabric in his hand as if he doesn’t recognize it, as if he hadn’t just stolen it, as if he wasn’t imagining what they’d look like on you and nothing else–

He groans. Loud, without care, desperate as he stuffs the black lace so far into his face it nearly goes down his throat, while his other hand wraps your white pair around his cock. They’re… soft, and a little cold, but if he closes his eyes he can pretend it’s you rubbing them against him, and if he breathes deep enough he can pretend you’re doing this after sitting on his face the way he dreams you would.

He’s never been this hard. Never so receptive, even to his own touch. The way the cotton of your undies glides against the precum dripping down his cock is softer than the clouds in heaven, and he swears he could cum like this; sprawled out on his shower floor, still half-clothed from his desperation to be close to you, your panties wrapped around him. He imagines what you’d do, if you were here, with him–not with his brothers, but him. Because he’s the one who has this piece of you, only him. 

But… what would you do, if you came home early and found him? Would you be as disgusted with him as he is with himself? Or would you offer him a fresh pair, stripping bare as you fall to your knees, offering to let him taste from the source–

Beel cums. Hard. White splatters along his RAD uniform, gathering heavily against the dark material and saturating the lower-half of his button up. Thick spurts fly through the air, some landing as high as the tile beside his head, before steadily pooling at the base of his abs. He pants, mouth still covered by the remnants of you, eyes still shut to the thought of you. His hand goes lax, letting the now-damp fabric of your white panties dab slowly at the copious amounts of cum now dripping down his hip.

His heart beats as fast as if he’s just completed a workout, and for a brief moment, he feels full. As if you–the mere thought of you, in fact–is enough to fill the missing pieces of him.

Until his DDD buzzes, and he sees a picture of you and a sleeping Belphie, and reads your message asking where your tied-for-first-favorite snuggle-buddy wandered off to, and his stomach growls. His lip curls in a sneer that morphs into a growl of frustration as his dick starts to swell, his eyes instantly drawn to where your breast presses against Belphie’s sleeping bicep.

It’s not fair, and it’s not right, and Beel knows better. He knows you’re happy to share, that there’s enough of you to share, that he should just fucking share–

But he doesn’t.

He keeps this for himself, this secret of raiding your hamper. Of keeping a piece of you close, always tucked away in his back pocket, and not just because it makes dealing with the random hardies easier. He might not be able to admit his feelings, but he can have this one piece of you for himself.

Why else would you be sure to leave his favorites right on top?

∻ Belphegor       ↠         s l o t h         ⤲         g l u t t o n y

Death should be an old friend to a creature like BELPHEGOR. Death should be something he’s able to greet with open arms, to plainly discuss the state of the world and how fleeting such things like eternity can be–but Death is not. Death is now as unfamiliar to Belphie as Love, and this is not a relationship he wishes to change anytime soon.

Although, with your legs wrapped around his head, tongue lapping at your folds as he glides your hips across his soaked lips, he knows he could greet Death with a smile. He might even be able to tear Death to shreds, for all the vitality your essence seems to bring. 

He’s lost track of the time he’s spent between your legs. Enough so that even the sheets on either side of his head are saturated, and not just from sweat; but not so long as the painful ache in his stomach has yet to subside. He’s yearning, in a way he hasn’t done since the Fall, for something he hasn’t had since the Fall.

For Love. 

For you.

He can think of no better way to show his love than this; bringing you to the apex of pleasure over and over and over again, until the cry of his name becomes synonymous with this feeling of fullness that engulfs you every time Belphie latches on to your clit.

His technique is the same; gentle kisses along the inside of your thigh before whispering against your cunt, tongue flicking out every-so-often to catch your sensitive bud. Sweet musings you often can’t hear, but aren’t addressed to you. Sweet sentiments you sometimes make out to be, “such a pretty girl f’me,” and “what a mess you’ve made today, pretty,” and the worst–“you’re my perfect pussy, aren’t you?”

You whimper as his open-mouth kisses get closer to your heat. Slowly, you try rotating your hips to force Belphie to land a kiss where you need him most. Instead, he bites your clit.

With a gasp, you shudder and instinctively try rolling your hips backwards, but his hands latch on to your waist–not even your hips, but your waist–with enough force to keep you pinned.

“M’not done,” he mumbles. Spit slides down the swell of his cheeks, matting in his inky locks. His tongue languidly flicks at your folds, and he snickers when you squeak.

“Belphie,” you plead, “either do something or let me go, please–’

“Do something?” he asks. He peers up at you, and the sight of his violet eyes just barely peeking out from between your legs, the entire lower half of his jaw hidden from sight by your sex, has whatever little strength was left in your legs give out entirely. A smug smile curls his pale lips, and he bites your clit again.

“Belphie!”

You try squirming away, but the vibrations from Belphie’s chuckles feel heavenly. He knows what he’s doing when he presses his lips, still thinned in a smile, against your overstimulated nub, gently rubbing back and forth to ease the sting from his teeth. “You should’ve learned by now, little human, to be more careful with what you wish for.”

He blows out a puff of air, warm and cold and euphoric and tortuous all at once. Tears start to pool in your eyes, and the hands that once rested against his velvet headboard come to cradle either side of his face.

“P-please,” you choke, “please, Belphie, I–I need–”

“You don’t know what you need,” he dismisses, and instead of explaining, not because you’re a dumb human, but because you haven’t spent enough time in this existence to know, you don’t have the curse of knowledge that I do, and this is the least I can do to make up for all that I’ve done, so let me teach you to not just know what you need but how to take it, he gives you what you’ve been asking for.

Slowly, deeply, he begins licking around your seeping hole, collecting as much of your nectar as he can. His hands wrap around your thighs to help spread your lower lips, grinding you against his mouth every time you try to breathe. His nose brushes against your overstimulated bundle of nerves, never quite catching the hood but putting enough pressure to keep you on the edge of oblivion.

“I know what you need,” Belphie mutters into your thigh. He sucks a light bruise into your skin before diving back into your folds, humming as happily as if you were the one sucking him off, instead. “I can give you what you need, pretty girl. Want me to? Want me to make you cum?”

“Yes–” you gasp. Your hand knots in his hair, trying to direct that running mouth of his to somewhere more useful–and he lets you. He lets you guide him to where you think you need him most, gently lapping at your folds, alternating between kissing your sensitive clit and guiding his tongue as far into you as he can reach. His fingers trail lightly along the pudge of your leg, nails irritating the skin enough to raise little welts but not enough to hurt, palms applying enough force to keep you exactly where he needs you.

Because he does. Need you, that is. Even if he can’t say as much out loud; even if he doesn’t know how. But this is his confession, can’t you tell? That he lets you use his face as your personal throne, ride him for your personal pleasure, control him for your personal gain. No one, not even Lucifer, has been able to tame the sleeping giant–so shouldn’t the fact that you could mean more than any words could muster?

Belphie doesn’t know what he wants to watch more; the way your oozing sex begs him for more, or the way your eyes are glazing over as you desperately try to keep eye contact with him. He starts to frown, but before he can pull away and ask why you’re staring at him like that–like you think you know what you need, like you don’t believe him, like you don’t need him–you’ve caught his wrists in your hands and pinned them by his head.

He could’ve stopped you, if he really wanted to, but his curiosity gets the better of him. Slowly, you slide down his body, face contorting at every catch of your slick clit against the rigid planes of his body, until you come to rest squarely atop his hips. His cock is erect behind you, thighs sticky with a release you hadn’t realized he’d even let go of, but it’s his lips that get your attention.

His pale, full, sticky lips, covered with your juices, parting slightly as he asks, “what are you doing?”

“You said I don’t know what I need,” you answer softly, placing more weight on your palms, keeping him pinned. You lean forward, letting your eyes drag along the sharp lines of his jaw, lips hovering above his. “I probably don’t. But… I know what I want, Belphie.”

He doesn’t trust himself to answer. His heart races in his chest, which he keeps remarkably steady, even as he can’t tear his eyes away from the sight of your breasts pressing against his bare chest. Your fingers tighten around his wrists, and he finally meets your gaze.

Belphie’s throat goes dry. His lips part, and you take that as the perfect opportunity to kiss him. Softly, sweetly, the same way he’d been pressing kisses to your core. You take your time tasting him–tasting yourself, staining him–tongue swirling against his, breasts rubbing against his chest, his throbbing cock finding refuge in the slick staining your thighs.

He thinks he’s found it for real, this time; love. To have, to hold, to keep forevermore. He thinks this might be real, that you might be the best dream he’s ever conjured, that being awake might be worth more than just endless pain, so long as you stay with him–and then the memory of Death floods his thoughts. Death, who stole the last one he loved, who tried taking Beel from him, who’s no longer an old friend but an ancient foe with your name awaiting his collection.

Belphie tenses beneath you, then flips you over. He buries his head in the crook of your neck, thinking all the nightmares away in favor of focusing on the dream beneath him.

“In case it wasn’t clear, I’m saying I want you, Belphegor, now and tomorrow and all of tomorrow’s tomorrows,” you laugh, and Belphie’s heart absolutely shatters.

You can’t lie, not to him; and you can’t know what you’re saying, not about him. You can’t want him, not when Death wants you too, and Death will always win.

But… he can have you tonight, right? And–tomorrow, if you’re still here, and maybe even tomorrow’s tomorrow, if Death doesn’t steal you first. So shouldn’t he make the most of it?

So instead of answering, he presses a trail of soft kisses down your sternum, keeping his gaze fixed on the way your skin disappears beneath his lips. “M’not done with you,” he repeats, and he dives back in.

| Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan | Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon, Solomon |

tag list: @weebaboobs | @anxiousmomfriend | @my-perfect-machine | @leechlips

#obey me smut #obey me brothers smut #satan smut #asmo smut #asmodeus smut #beel smut #beezlebub smut #belphie smut #belphegor smut #beezlebub obey me smut #belphegor obey me smut #beel obey me smut #belphie obey me smut #satan obey me smut #asmodeus obey me #obey me x reader smut #cw:blood #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #kingdum of om #eat you raw #kasey's adventure book! #makings of greatness #satan #cw:possessive!

[2deadkat]

i'd love to hear ur complaints abt modern geronimo! If u'd like to share that is

Thank you for asking anon, I’d love to share and you have inadvertently entered the dragon’s den/lh

But fr tho, it’s a lot. It’s mostly pertaining to the writing.

The reason why I hate modern Geronimo is in the biggest nutshell possible, they screwed up the original dynamic for the Stiltons, a majority of the books is just one big game of Geronimo torture porn between the other characters, and overall a lot of wasted potential for unique interactions between the wider cast and the rest of the Stiltons as its limited to just Geronimo himself. Hell a lot of the plots could have the input from the other Stiltons if they were brave enough. And there seems to be a new character every few books and there’s no rhyme or substance to it anymore. Since when did trap reproduce???

And you’re telling me von Volt has another relative???? Yk at some point you just stop reading the books. Oh and do not get me started on the Thea problem…

Let me start with the Stiltons real quick, somehow they got worse by watering down their personalities to a bunch of cheap jokes.

What made the classic (or early) books work was that the whole point of Geronimo’s character is that yes he’s a wimp, but that’s because he’s a tired boss who gets dragged into his family’s shenanigans, and by extension his friends and allies around him. Everyone has some eccentric personality that shocks or baffle him in some way, and that’s where the comedy comes from. He’s able to stand on his own because of his duties and eagerness to stay in his comfort zone is where the meat of the interactions come from.

His family especially Trap and Thea were meant to be respective foils to him. Trap consistently bullies him and Thea is meant to be the direct opposite of him, she’s the driving force in the group and has more pants to cover up what Gerry doesn’t have. She’s the one behind a lot of their adventures or scoops, hell she’s also the one who keeps finding them in the first place and drags her family and connections into them which makes sense because that’s her job and also where a lot of the plots start from. She fills out the spots that Gerry doesn’t have. Trap is just pure comic relief and is basically that outside force to the group. Hell the two even have a dynamic of their own where’d they just fight over the most trivial things and that makes us side with Geronimo more because of the ridiculousness of his family, that’s what made it click (to me). Highly recommend you read the early books, it shows the strongest character imo (#1-20).

Now Geronimo has all his autonomy stripped away and he’s been reduced to a nothing but a punching bag for everyone around him. I hope I’m not kidding here but try reading a classic book (let’s say #7 or #26) and compare it to the writing in a modern book (let’s say #46 or #74) it’s very jarring. They put more emphasis on different ways his day is ruined and give him no room to breathe or stand on his own. There’s just no charm to that anymore. There’s no fine line with his relationship with the other characters (Run for the Hills Geronimo is probably the worse one and represents everything I don’t like about the new dynamic)

Now over time that initial draw to action is also done by Trap, which I thought was cool because it still plays into the idea of Geronimo’s family dragging him into their shenanigans and the motives make sense to him specifically. It’s like he keeps getting calls from his relatives on schemes which is fun. But the more you keep reading the modern books the dynamic gets skewed over time and here’s the part I’ve been waiting for…Thea gets shelved completely. And now it’s somehow the GOD DAMN GINGER BROS SHOW?????

Now I think about it, Trap used to be a lot more clever in the classic books as well, he’s essentially a bumbling fool who keeps falling into the wrong situations to make a quick buck which slowly backfires on him. If you know me that well you know I’d call him a less scummier Grunkle Stan. The fact that there’s no Thea to balance it out or at least ground the dynamic to some level feels really annoying now.

You don’t really see much of her anymore as she’s either smiling at the back or doesn’t say more than five lines anymore, which is baffling because she’s the one who can pick up the pace the most. I really wished they showed more of her involvement again…They’re a trio, not a duo…and the books are suspiciously phasing her out to make room for the ginger bros fail routine and it ultimately feels very empty…there’s not much acknowledgement or involvement from her really like they could say she’s busy at mouseford or something but nope! Shelved completely without an explanation or a missed opportunity for a tie-in mention.

So far the only redemption I see is the Mayan Mystery one and the Soccer one where she had a more integral role which are way more recent but it still bothers me that they just shelved her for a majority of the modern run.

Listen if the modern books weren’t cowards she would SOLO all these people

she’d probably have an interesting dynamic knowing that she gets along with everyone well and is technically an adventurer. It’d be such a good parallel to her brother to play off of.

hell it’s even worse in the comics. Like there’s legit no acknowledgment of her at all, when trap is absent that gets an explanation but she’s just suspiciously…gone and the only time she does have a major role is when she’s used as a fake mask for a psyche-out to the villains (I’m sorry but if the comics are gonna pull that shit then I’m baited to believe that Thea and (cat lady) would have a homerotic switcheroo fight akin to Ms.Bellum and Sedusa. SHES THE TOUGHEST AND SMARTEST RODENT, USE HER GODDAMIT)

Idk man I tried reading some of the comics and it never worked out that much, again the dynamic feels suspiciously empty with zero acknowledgment. It’s not the Stiltons it’s just the fucking ginger bros for some reason. It doesn’t feel solid like it used to. I really can’t get into them which is a shame, and tbf why would I want to read a comic where Geronimo goes back in time and helps a colonist do his thing 💀

I’d be very happy if someone here can give me one good reason to get into them somehow, I want to like modern Geronimo, please/s

Look if there’s one character I don’t mind them putting in complete absence it’s probably the unaccompanied minors/s…Or Petunia which makes much more sense since she’s a family friend!

Look I actually like Ben and Bugsy as a duo, I think their whole concept is really wholesome, but the books don’t really push their parts that much, like there’s no meaningful interaction they have with the adults which is a lot of missed potential that or it’s just limited to Geronimo. Like listen I get that the whole point of the books was that it was from Geronimo’s perspective, but it’s not like everyone else was just “present”. They had more active roles and Gerry would just write all his observations down. You want a good example? The Mona Mousa Code.

Still…Benjamin had more charm and a bigger role in the classic books…that boy can hyper fixate and master niche skills in anything and was the emotional rock for Geronimo. But now he just goes along with his uncle being a punching bag routine :/ and I KNOW they could do a lot more for Bugsy here, especially since the paws are practically family friends.

—-

But you know…I’ll do give it credit here this era has one of my favorite art styles in the series and notably the one I grew up with the most (classic books illustrations still hold more charm imo) but the way action and expression is illustrated is just *chefs kiss* there’s a certain bounce to it that makes it so memorable.

And I’ll do admit all those geography facts (even if it’s just basic facts I mean it’s a kids book) and long detailed lists or charts about a characters detail is really cool and somehow makes it more immersive.

And it’s really nice to see the universe get expanded.

But overall, the writing is not the same anymore, the original dynamic is screwed up, and lots of missed opportunity to round up the cast together. It’s either empty or I’m just getting too old…Maybe I’m just nostalgia-biased in different areas who knows. But that’s pretty all my thoughts I can pull out.

#I now understand how it feels to be a Simpsons or a SpongeBob fan #I would not be suprised if the modern books are written by ghost writers #I could use this in a four hour long video essay #I would if tempted hard enough #thinking about what a friend said I wonder if this would expose the way I characterize the stiltons #been holding this out for a while and also I’ve been busy #trying my best not to fume at the mouth #hope you like me rambling Anon #Keith answers #mouseposting #geronimo stilton #thea stilton

[wzrd-wheezes]

🍓 - ❛ you’ve broken me. all i can think about is you. ❜ with fred weasley

All I Can Think About - Fred Weasley x Reader

AN - Sorry this has taken me so long to post! I started writing it a while ago but I didn't really know how I wanted it to finish. I hope this is okay and that you enjoy it! Thank you for sending me a request <3

Fred was notorious for not being a relationship person. It was something that his friends would wind him up about all the time. The idea of committing to someone made his stomach feel all weird and his head spin. He liked having his independence, he liked being able to do what he wanted, but he liked not having to devote all of his time to someone.

He liked Y/N. But he would rather gouge his eyes out with his own hands than admit it. Fred didn’t get crushes. Nearly all the girls he had dated had had a crush on him, but they never lasted very long anyway. A few dates maybe, a few sneaky hookups and then it would be over. He wasn’t bothered, it was nice to date people, sure, but there was never really anyone he was ever absolutely infatuated with.

That was until one day in Potions class when Y/N’s hand brushed against his when handing him some dandelion roots and he swore to god that every hair on his body stood up. No one had ever made Fred feel the way that she did. They had been friends since their first year at Hogwarts but it was like something inside of him had suddenly switched and it was driving him mad.

“Just admit that you like her, Freddie.” George said one day, when they were sprawled across the sofas in the common room.

“I wish it was that easy.” Fred sighed.

“How is it not easy?” Lee asked, “Just go up to her, tell her you fancy her and then ask her out for a butterbeer or something.”

“What if she rejects me?” Fred dug his fingers into the pillow that was sat on his lap, kneading the plush material as he spoke. George and Lee both barked out a laugh.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” George scoffed, “the famous Fred Weasley might get rejected by the girl he fancies.”

“I’d pay to see that.” Lee laughed. Fred launched the pillow at him, hitting him square in the face. Lee fell to the floor dramatically, as if he had been shot.

“I’m not scared of being rejected.” Fred said firmly, “I’m scared of fucking it all up and ruining our friendship.”

George rolled his eyes, “you can we so wet sometimes, do you know that?”

Fred bottled it up for weeks, inadvertently pushing Y/N away in the process because he just didn’t know how to act around her. They barely spoke at the minute, the hour long conversations that they used to have had dwindled down to minute long snippets between classes. He wasn’t used to having these feelings, feeling like this about someone and he hated it.

It was one evening when he was walking back to the common room after quidditch practise that he felt someone tug on the back of his shirt. He span around quickly.

“Hey, Stranger.” Y/N was stood in front of him, a small smile on her face, “Long time no see.”

“Oh, hey, yeah.” Fred rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. Y/N didn’t say anyrhing, seemingly waiting for him to carry on the conversation. Fred didn’t know why he did it, but he just turned around and walked away.

Y/N stood frozen for a moment, trying to make sense of what was going on. Fred had been being distant with her for weeks and she had this sinking feeling in her stomach as she racked her brain trying to figure out why.

“What the hell is going on with you?” She asked, catching up with him. She grabbed a hold of his arm, dragging him back towards her.

“Nothing. I’m fine” he shrugged her off of him and carried on walking.

“You’re not fine! Have I done something wrong?” Y/N pleaded “You've barely spoken to me in weeks, Fred!"

He stopped in his tracks, a lump in his throat forming as he struggled to find the right thing to say. He turned around to look at her properly. A crease had formed between her brows and her bottom lip jutted out as she held back her tears.

"You've broken me." His voice came out strained, "All I can think about is you."

"W-what?" Y/N took a step back, shocked at the sudden outburst from her friend.

"For weeks. All I've been able to think about is you and it's driving me insane." his voice rose slightly, "The way your perfume smells, the way that you laugh. I don't know!" He let out an exasperated sigh.

"I don't understand-"

"Neither do I!" Fred exclaimed, "You're my best friend, Y/N. I don't know why I feel this way about you - but I do and it's making me go crazy."

#fred weasley #weasley twins #fred and george #george weasley #fred and george weasley #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley x reader

[ellewritesandrants]

I don’t know why but the idea of a soulmate AU between Billy, Steve and Eddie captivates me, especially with the idea that Billy unknowingly gets Steve and Eddie to find out that they’re soulmates. Either in a modern AU where Billy’s a big fan of Corroded Coffin and Steve just managed to get a free ticket or something or in a canon AU where Billy and Steve are friends who want to smoke a little something so they buy from Eddie or Steve picks up the kids from Hellfire and one of them notices the marks match, I don’t really care how but I just want to explore the hurt and comfort of that.

Can you imagine Billy pining away, forever in love with the idea of his soulmate being the one who’ll save him from his situation given that’s what happened to his mom and he finds out that his crush is his soulmate but doesn’t want to tell him yet until he’s made something out of himself, until he’s deserving of love and all of a sudden, he finds out that his soulmate found his soulmate and it wasn’t Billy?

Imagine Steve happily dragging Eddie with him who already looks besotted with Steve and they show Billy the mark that he’s memorized from seeing it in the mirror thousands of times and as soon as he sees the smiles on their faces and the look of wonder in their eyes, he knows for a fact he can’t ruin their happiness. He isn’t selfish enough to do it even others would say he was and all he could do was pretend to be happy and smile at the happy couple.

Imagine Billy pulling away, either out of fear he’d inadvertently ruin their relationship or because he couldn’t stand being surrounded by what he couldn’t have and the kids weirdly enough noticing and trying to figure out what’s wrong. It doesn’t help that Neil’s always been bitter about soulmates and he loved rubbing it in Billy’s face how worthless everything regarding soulmates and soulmarks was. Billy used to be able to ignore it in the hopes of finding his soulmate but now, he knew the truth.

The kids come to a different conclusion, not realizing it was something regarding soulmates but instead, about Neil’s treatment of Billy. If canon, it would be El spying on Billy and seeing him being beaten into a pulp by his dad but in a modern AU, it would the aftermath wherein Max would ask Steve to come visit Billy and he drags Eddie along with him.

Either way, Steve and Eddie find out about the abuse that Billy’s been suffering through and the guilt that Steve felt was immeasurable for not seeing what his best friend was going through, too busy with being in love with his soulmate. With Hopper’s help, they get Neil behind bars but Billy’s a wreck and he needs people to take care of him.

Steve refused to leave Billy alone in the trailer while Max went to school and Susan went to work so he offered to have Billy move in with him and Eddie so they could take care of him. Since Steve only worked part-time and Eddie was in the same year as Billy and could drive them to and from school, it made a lot more sense than leaving him to his own devices.

Billy thinks he’s in a new level of hell as time goes by because getting to know Eddie and seeing everything he can’t have was absolutely painful and heartbreaking on another level. Being surrounded by their care and affection when he’s barely known it his entire life hurts on another level he can’t exactly describe but it’s a pain that hurts so good that he can’t exactly say no to it. His only saving grace is that his mark was casted over due to Neil’s last temper tantrum and there was no way that the boys would get to see it.

Months pass of Billy falling more and more in love with his soulmates who are already in love with each other and it hurts so good. Steve and Eddie never make him feel like an outsider the entire time he’s there but sometimes, his touch starvation reminds him of just how much he’d love to be squeezed in between them in any way possible.

Graduation comes and goes and Billy refused to let his father take his achievements away so he graduated valedictorian, dragging Eddie kicking and screaming past the finish line to graduate. Billy gets to make his speech, loudly supported by everyone and he makes sure to thank his newfound family for all of the support they’ve given him.

Of course, graduation wouldn’t be complete without a graduation party so they all get drunk and party in Steve’s house to celebrate six graduations especially Billy and Nancy who graduated valedictorian and salutatorian respectively. Both Jonathan and Nancy planned to go to the same college in Chicago while Robin and her girlfriend, Heather were heading to California soon. Billy had also gotten into the same college but he wasn’t sure about going because he’d be leaving so much behind, including his soulmates.

By now, Billy was in love with both of his soulmates and unbeknownst to him, they were both plently enamored with him and they’d been trying to build up the courage to ask him out. The party had been slightly delayed because Billy was getting his casts off about a week after graduation and they wanted to do shots, something that really wasn’t advisable with a cast.

Billy had planned to initially conceal his mark using makeup but a large part of him knew that it didn’t matter since Steve and Eddie were happy anyway so he didn’t bother. After all, both Steve and Eddie loved to show off their marks at every opportunity and no one gave a shit about Billy. Somehow, Billy had managed to keep his mark a secret from everyone but he knew Heather had some suspicions.

After some time, the drinking games start and somehow, Billy’s mark is revealed either in a dared striptease or by accident during a dare and it quickly sobers him up. He doesn’t notice at first but then Robin drunkenly pointed out that they had matching marks and the sober gaze of Eddie was too sharp for Billy to meet, instead choosing to run away, stumble to his car and hit the gas to the quarry.

It’s only there that he allows himself to breakdown and to mourn the end of what was a good friendship he had going on with his soulmates because he was sure they would want nothing to do with him now. He’s only just begun to run out of tears when he hears the telltale sound of Eddie’s van, meant to drive Nancy, Jonathan, Heather and Robin home later but was most likely currenly holding the last people Billy wanted to see.

For a moment, he considers running again but his Mama didn’t raise no coward, so he wipes his tears and stands his ground. Steve was a lot drunker than Billy was when Billy had left but it seemed he’d sobered up during the ride because he was clear-eyed when he was grabbing Billy and making sure that the blond wouldn’t run away.

Steve and Eddie trapped Billy in between them, in what seemed like a mockery of his fantasies only to have them play out right in front of him. Never in his wildest dreams did he think that his soulmates would tell him that they wanted him, that they loved him and wanted to take care of him and love him. Sure, it was after an argument about why Billy felt the need to hide but he had expected rejection or at the very least a mutual ignorance of his mark. He’d never considered it a possibility but the two were convinced to try and convince him to give them a chance.

After more than a few tears and attempts to get them to realize they were better off without Billy and his baggage, Steve and Eddie stubbornly managed to convince Billy to try with them. A few kisses convinced Billy to leave his car behind so that they could get it in the morning but for now, Steve and Eddie wanted him in Eddie’s van so they were sure he wouldn’t run.

The entire ride, Billy’s mind was trying to convince him that Steve and Eddie were better off without him, that he didn’t deserve this and that he was a fraud ruining a perfectly happy couple but Steve instinctively knew something was up and he’d had Billy laid across his lap with his hair being stroked to keep the bad thoughts away while Steve affirmed Billy of all of their feelings towards him.

Halfway through the ride home, Billy was asleep and Steve had no problem carrying the younger boy into their bed so that they could finally hold him the way they wanted to. Billy had long since told them of how lonely he felt in his room but as much as they had wanted to invite Billy to literally sleep with them, they hadn’t wanted to cross any boundaries.

Tonight though, all Steve and Eddie wanted to do was to fall asleep holding their newly found soulmate. Billy awoke to Steve’s warmth cocooning him and Eddie coming in to wake him with breakfast in bed. After a hearty meal, Steve and Eddie asked if they could court Billy to show him how serious they were about their feelings for him and Billy found that much like before, he couldn’t say no to his soulmates.

Months passed with Steve and Eddie constantly trying to prove their love of Billy who eventually concedes and moves in with them in the master bedroom. It isn’t long until having Billy in between Steve and Eddie is a norm and no longer a fantasy for Billy and he realizes just how much he didn’t let himself have when he hated himself. With Steve and Eddie’s love, they helped Billy realize he was always worthy of love, care and devotion and that they were ready to spend the rest of their lives together reminding him of that fact.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove au #billy deserved better #billy hargrove deserved better #ellewritesandrants #billy hargrove angst #metalsandwich #metal sandwich #harringroveson #steddilly #stilldie #harringrove #mungrove #some steddie but endgame is harringroveson #billy x eddie #billy x steve #steve harrington #eddie munson

[estrellami-1]

The Bet

So @artiststarme wrote this blurb about the boys’ first serious argument being about how Steve doesn’t like Ozzy Osbourne. I was on my KNEES in the comment section asking if I could flesh it out, and this is the result. I hope you like it!! ❤️

The thing is, they actually have a really healthy relationship.

Everyone mentions it, whether in response to how similar it is to something their parents do, or something the complete opposite of what their parents do.

“Wait,” Max said once. “Weren’t you just arguing?”

Steve and Eddie looked at each other. “We disagreed,” Steve started cautiously. “That doesn’t mean we were arguing or fighting. Sometimes a disagreement doesn’t end in yelling, y’know? Actually it never has to end in yelling, but people are messy and emotional and that’s what it usually ends up as. But… no. We weren’t really arguing.”

Mike narrowed his eyes at Steve when he came to watch Hellfire once. “What’re you doing here?”

Steve shrugged, smiling. “Watching.”

“Why? You don’t even like D&D.”

“I don’t hate it. And Eddie likes it. We make time to engage in things the other likes. Share interests.”

Mike’s nose wrinkled as he thought about it. “Share interests?”

“That is what I said. He watches basketball with me. Can’t tell me a single thing about it, but he watches and gets excited whenever I do.”

“And we share music with each other,” Eddie added, smirking. “Stevie here’s officially a fan of Dio.”

The thing is, they don’t really argue. It gets to the point where people are starting to bet on when and what their first fight would be about.

Eddie brings it up during band practice one day. “I just don’t get it,” he says. “Steve and I have, arguably, the healthiest relationship out of anybody we know, and now everyone’s fucking betting on our first argument? Do they want us to fight? Do they want us to break up?”

“I mean,” Jeff starts cautiously, “You two are an unlikely pair. He’s part of the group that bullied us in high school. You two couldn’t really be more different if you tried. Like, I get that opposites attract or whatever, but some similarities could be a good thing, y’know?”

Eddie stares for a minute, then abruptly says, “Okay, so I’m not sure about the key on the first song,” and that’s it. Band practice continues.

Eddie, however, is stuck on that moment. He thinks about it all the way home, is preoccupied enough that Steve surprises him when he walks over and slides a hand over his back. “Eds?”

Eddie jumps slightly before turning to face Steve, inadvertently dislodging the hand on his back. “Steve?” Steve stays quiet, lets him think, put the words in the right order. “Do… do you think we’re too different?”

Steve jerks back in shock. “What? Eddie, where is this coming from?”

Eddie shakes his head, sighs, drags fingers through his hair. Won’t meet Steve’s eyes. “No, sorry, it’s stupid, just drop it.”

Steve ducks to catch his gaze, smiling hopefully up at him. “Hey. You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

“I know,” Eddie says, then turns around. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing if it’s bothering you,” Steve returns. “To answer your question, though… I don’t think we’re too different. I mean, We’re working out pretty fine right now. We communicate, we work out our problems… we love each other, plain and simple. We try to get into each others interests. Sure, there are probably things each of us will never really love—you and basketball, for example, and I just don’t understand the hype surrounding Ozzy Osbourne—but-”

“Wait,” Eddie interrupts, brows furrowing. “You don’t get the hype surrounding Ozzy Osbourne?”

Steve shrugs. “No, not really. I don’t like his music.”

“Oh, that- that’s great.” He huffs a hysterical laugh and begins to pace. “I play him constantly, Steve, and you’ve never once said anything?”

“I don’t-”

“And if that’s a lie, what else? D&D? Metallica? Dio?”

“That’s not-”

“Hell, I told Mike that you liked Dio! Was that a lie?”

“No, it-”

“Do I have to go to Mike fuckin’ Wheeler and tell him I lied? Because you don’t tell me things like ‘I don’t like Ozzy Osbourne’?”

“It’s called being in a relationship,” Steve says, louder than either of them had been up to that point. “And I could say the same of you! I know you hate sports. I know you don’t understand basketball and you think football is boring. You refuse to run with me. I know you don’t like it but I thought that’s part of loving each other. Doing so in spite of everything we don’t like. Or has it all been an act for you? Is it all a character you’re playing?” He snaps his mouth shut, takes a few deep breaths, and shakes his head. “I’m going home. Come to me when you’re ready to talk, instead of throwing accusations at me.”

And there Eddie’s left, gripping onto the kitchen counter, watching as Steve walks out the door.

A few days later, Robin Buckley storms in. “Edward Munson, what the hell did you do?”

“Whoa there, missy,” Wayne says. “What’s got you up in a huff?”

Robin does, indeed, huff. “Eddie upset Steve.”

Wayne raises a brow, considers her, then nods. “How about a cup of tea after you’re done yellin’ at him?”

Robin stops short, thinks about it, and nods. “That would be nice. Thank you.”

Wayne just chuckles and shoos her in the direction of Eddie’s room.

She slams the door open, watching as Eddie jumps a foot into the air, his wide eyes opening even wider as he realizes who he’s looking at. “Yeah, dipshit, it’s me,” she says, crossing her arms. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Do you know how upset Steve is? He doesn’t know if he’s still your boyfriend, and I’m honestly considering telling him to end it now. What the hell could’ve happened to make you avoid him like you’ve been doing? You and I may be friends, but Steve and I are platonic-with-a-capital-p soulmates, and he’ll always come first.”

Eddie gapes at her. “I- he-” he groans and buries his head in his hands. “I fucked up, didn’t I?”

“Majorly,” Robin agrees. “I’ve half a mind to not let you see him, actually, except I know how sneaky you are, and I know you’d find a way regardless. If you thought it was important enough.”

“If-” Eddie gapes again. “He’s the most important thing. I was upset, and I took some things to heart that I really shouldn’t have, and oh, holy shit, I need to talk to him-”

Robin nods approvingly. “Go fix it, Munson.” She leans casually against his doorframe, then says as if completely changing the topic, “y’know, Nancy’s been teaching me to shoot. It’s fun.”

Eddie pales appropriately. “Robin Buckley, you are the scariest woman on the planet, second only to Nancy, and no one deserves you,” he says seriously, laughing when she nods.

Robin wanders back out to the kitchen, where Wayne hands her a mug with a grin. “Heard you gave ‘im hell.”

“Yup,” Robin answers. “He’s gonna go fix it. If he doesn’t, I hope you’ll be okay living on your own.”

Wayne shrugs, an amused twist to his mouth. “I survived thirty-eight years on my own. I think I can do it again.”

“Good,” Robin says, and that’s that, and they both turn to watch as Eddie races out the door.

“Shit shit shit,” Eddie mutters as he throws himself into the driver’s seat. He turns the car on and curses again as fucking Ozzy Osbourne blasts through the speakers. He ejects the tape and tossed it behind him, prepared to sit in silence on the way to Steve’s.

Eleven and a half minutes later, Eddie pulls up to Steve’s house and knocks on the door, shifting impatiently.

Steve opens the door twenty-seven seconds later, and twelve minutes after leaving his house, Eddie says, “I’m so sorry.”

It’s the first thing out of his mouth, flying out practically without permission. There was a plan, a script, but he sees Steve’s hazel eyes and forgets everything he’d ever known.

Steve regards him, then nods and moves aside, inviting him in with a wave of his hand.

“I got really insecure about something and exploded instead of just talking it through,” Eddie continues. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of what I said. I just-” he tears a hand through his hair, makes a frustrated sound.

Steve gently touches his arm, gets his hand out of his hair, directs him to sit on a couch. “I know,” he says quietly, then sighs. “And I owe you an apology. It takes two to argue. I shouldn’t have gotten riled up when you did. It didn’t help anything.”

“This isn’t your fault,” Eddie whispers, desperate to make him understand. “Stevie. This is completely on me.”

“How about we start over?” Steve suggests. “You asked if we were too different. Where’d you get that idea?”

“The band,” Eddie admits. “I was thinking out loud, wondering why everyone had started a betting pool on our first argument, and Jeff said that he thinks it’s because we’re really different. And then I kept thinking about it and got insecure about it. And then you said what you did, about not liking Ozzy, and that really got me insecure because that was the first real compliment I gave you.” Steve blinks, confused. “In the Upside Down? He bit a bat’s head off onstage?”

“Oh, shit,” Steve whispers, understanding trickling in.

“So I thought- I don’t know what I thought. I guess I thought it was all fake, that since you didn’t like or accept the compliment, or whatever…” he shakes his head. “It really is stupid. And I’m so sorry I let it go so far.”

Steve sighs. “And I’m sorry. I’d completely forgotten about that complement. I do know how much that means to you, though. And I might not like the guy’s music, but I’ve got no opinions on the man himself. I guess I should’ve specified. And like I said earlier, I never should’ve risen to the bait. I never should’ve said what I did about sports and exercise. So I’m sorry, too.” He holds a tentative hand up, and Eddie pushes it out of the way in favor of wrapping his arms around Steve, who huffs a laugh and returns the gesture. “Love you, Eds,” he murmurs.

“Love you, Stevie. ‘M sorry.”

“‘S alright. I’m sorry too.”

“‘S alright.” They both giggle and pull back a bit, just to lean in again and press their lips together.

“Next time we talk about it,” Steve mutters after they pull apart.

“Agreed,” Eddie says, then pauses. “So who do you think won the bet about our first argument?”

Permanent Taglist:

@justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme

#stranger things #stranger things fic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #robin buckley #Wayne and Robin #that’s not a tag yet which is a TRAVESTY #misunderstanding #miscommunication #fights #arguments #idek how to tag this #read op’s first #op I’m so sorry I forgot the blue icee #I hope you like it anyways #starambles

[thebibutterflyao3]

Day 28 - Prompt: Dance @pandalilymicrofics

February Daily Series - 825 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

Lily gently adjusted her hold on Pandora’s waist as they approached the entrance to the Inn. She hoped that the front desk clerk wouldn’t ask too many questions about why Lily was half-carrying the woman to her room. Thankfully, they hadn’t run into anyone on the short walk, but she doubted her luck would hold for much longer.

“Almost there,” she whispered, inadvertently brushing her lips against Pandora’s ear. “How are you feeling? Any better?”

Pandora shivered and leaned in closer. “Worse, I think.”

“I’m pretty sure that I have paracetamol in my purse. Will that help?”

“It’s a start, but I think I need you to stay and play nurse.”

Lily rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You’ve already used that line. What’s next, blackmail?”

“I’m not above blackmail. Is that what it will take? I could threaten to sue you for bodily injury?”

Against her will, Lily’s lips twitched in amusement. Thus far, Pandora had come up with four different tactics to convince her to stay the night. Playing “nurse” seemed to appeal to Pandora the most.

“You’re a ‘trauma victim,’ remember? Now, behave,” Lily chastised lightly.

“What’s the fun in that?”

Lily bit down hard on her bottom lip to keep from grinning. She wasn’t actually sure how bad Pandora’s pain was because she insisted on flirting every time Lily asked, but she figured that if the little minx could walk and flirt, it probably wasn’t life-threatening.

“Lily, stop it,” Pandora said, her thumb tugging Lily’s lip free. “You’re such a tease.”

“Me? You must have hit your head harder than I thought.” Lily ignored the rush of heat to her cheeks and focused on navigating through the front door instead. She and Pandora had to perform an awkward sort of dance to slip inside the narrow entry together.

The front desk clerk glanced up, then did a double-take. “Oh! Do you need help?”

“I’ve got it, thanks,” Lily said, smiling politely. “She took a tumble walking back from the festival, that’s all.”

“Understandable in those shoes. I’m impressed she still has them on,” the woman said, hurrying around the desk. “What room are you in, Miss?”

Before Pandora could answer her, a herd of elephants charged down the stairs. Or at least, that’s what it sounded like. The clerk sighed and rubbed a hand over her face as she pivoted on her heel to address the chaos.

“Gentlemen! Please walk down the stairs,” she called out.

An enormous ball of black fur and limbs burst from the stairwell and landed at the bottom. Padfoot lifted his head, sniffed the air, then bounded away from whichever of his owners that he’d left in a crumpled heap. Lily gasped and shifted Pandora away from the excited dog.

“Pads! For fuck’s sake, you twat,” Sirius shouted, pushing himself upright. “Leave Lily alone.”

Remus appeared out of nowhere and helped his boyfriend to his feet. “What the hell just happened?”

“Padfoot happened,” Sirius groaned, shoving a hand through his hair. “He was so excited to go for a W-A-L-K that he dragged me down the stairs.”

Lily eyed the dog bouncing eagerly in front of the stairs. The poor thing was all riled up after an afternoon holed up in a hotel room. Remus was attempting to grab hold of his leash while the clerk blocked him from jumping on Lily and Pandora.

“Pads,” Sirius coaxed, moving swiftly to Remus’s right. “Come here. A little closer.”

The dog suddenly realised that he was about to be boxed in and lunged the opposite direction. His tail whipped at Remus’s legs and nearly knocked him to the floor. Sirius cursed under his breath and chased after him.

“Padfoot. Sit,” said a sharp voice in the doorway. Padfoot stopped so abruptly that Sirius tripped over him and went sprawling across the floor.

“Well, we know who’s really in charge. Don’t we, Reg?” Pandora teased, glancing over her shoulder.

Regulus’s smirk disappeared the moment he stepped around Lily. “Pandora! Are you alright? Was it Barty? I’ll kill him!”

All of a sudden, the reception area burst into chaos. James rushed past Lily and Pandora to restrain his furious boyfriend, who had pulled out a knife and was shouting threats at the doorway as if Barty was on the other side of it.

Meanwhile, Sirius had pounced on Padfoot in an attempt to get hold of his leash when he took off again. The pair were wrestling while Remus chased after them. The clerk was running from one to the other trying to restore order, but her high-pitched voice was only adding fuel to the fire.

Pandora looked around, then up at Lily with a weary smile. “Stay with me, please?”

“Yeah, I think I’d better,” she agreed, leaning down to sweep Pandora into her arms. Lily navigated past the chaos while Pandora tucked her head under Lily’s chin. “What room, Miss?”

“Down the hall. Last one on the left.”

Next Part>>>

#pandalily #pandolily #lily x pandora #pandora lovegood x lily evans #pandora lovegood #lily evans #pandora rosier #regulus and pandora #james potter #regulus black #remus lupin #sirius black

[bluebunnyears-08]

How Prime Has The Potential To Be A Great Psychological/Lovecraft Horror

I know, I know, all of you are probably looking at this thinking I lost my mind.

But let me explain and show you how it could be a horrifying experience.

First, all of you are probably commenting on how Sonic is a family friendly franchise, but that doesn't necessarily mean EVERY media of Sonic SHOULD be this way. There are some family friendly franchises with mature and more serious spin-offs or adaptations.

So Prime can be a good start to deviating from it's other media's. But I'll get to that later, I should probably explain how it can be, and in a way is, a psychological and Lovecraft horror, more than just another cartoon. At least to me.

1. (Psychological) Exploring The Character's Emotional Trauma and Internal Conflicts Is a Different Approach to Most Sonic Medias

While most Sonic media's focus on action and saving the day, Prime takes a different approach. Instead of just being action and "Sonic saving the day", Sonic completely breaks his home, unintentionally shattering everything, including his friends. Shadow is also inadvertently dragged along, using a Chaos Emerald to save himself from the blast, but ending up trapped in the void.

If the variants being shards of the main characters is true, then Prime is working to deconstruct the characters, but some variants caught my eyes. There's Rusty, a robotized Amy, which sure, that's cool, but remember Amy's first known introduction in the Sonic CD? I only remember some parts, but wasn't Amy kidnapped by metal Sonic to be robotized or something? Another obvious variant is Nine, who was basically abused for being different, only this time Sonic wasn't there to help him? And Dread, a greedy Knuckles, kinda reminding me of how Knuckles was tricked by Eggman so the Doc could steal the master emerald?

Something just seems a bit more about these variants.

1. (Lovecraft) The Variants Situation if The Shard Theory Is True

If the Shard theory is true, then the variants existence is a nightmare.

Imagine having flesh and bone, imagine having thoughts of your own, imagine having a backstory of your own; only for it to be revealed that everything, your body, your thoughts, your experiences; your existence, to be a mistake. You weren't supposed to exist, and if the putting it back together = Shattered Space disappears is true, then you're doomed to die.

Doomed be mashed together with other shards, to be pieced together into someone you don't know, and will never meet. Your very existence is a lie, something that needs to be fixed with your death.

Yeah...not a pretty picture, is it?

2. (Psychological) Sonic's Emotional Turmoil

Sonic suffers a lot in this show. No, I don't mean the physical pain, that's a gag, I'm referring to the emotional suffering, which is very much there.

Sonic is horrified by these events; breaking his home, shattering everyone he loved and cared for, having to experience hatred, scorn, and hostility from those who look so much like his friends; from people who don't recognize him, and having to witness or hear about his friends suffering, being unable to really do anything about it without being met with apprehension.

He's clearly not enjoying any of this, or having any fun, at all.

2. (Lovecraft) The Paradox Prism Is Unsettling Itself

What is the Prism?

We know it's powerful as hell, being able to rip apart reality, and possibly time, and is capable of creating new spaces. But what else is it capable of? Where did it come from? Why is it here beneath the Green Hills Bedrock?

Whatever it is, it's the one in control after Sonic breaks it, ripping apart the world, throwing Sonic through dimensions, trapping Shadow in the void, and even responding to certain contacts.

It's glow almost seems like it calling, beckoning for someone to find it, to use it, to break it.

3. (Psychological) Shadow In The Void

How is Shadow doing in this void?

All memes aside, it's clear he isn't taking everything so well. As when he first makes contact with Sonic, he sounds despondent and absolutely devastated, stating: "It's broken! It's all broken!". His voice is slightly shaky when he does so too. But in his final contact with Sonic, is him furious and violent.

From his first contact to his last furious one, Shadow's mental state isn't exactly stable. Being stuck in the void doesn't help anything either. Some development happened to Shadow off screen, one I really hope we'll see.

Yeah, Shadow is not having a great time either. But development can never be fast, it takes time, which brings my next theory in mind below.

3. (Lovecraft) The Void

Ending up in the void is something I'd choose death over. Mainly because, when thinking about it, it's something nobody would wish on their worst enemy. Which makes Shadow being there so much harsher.

The void is an empty space, nothing but shards surrounding you, you're alone, with nobody to talk to. You're alone with your thoughts. But the scariest thing would be how long it must seem.

From what we've seen so far, time runs differently in the Shattered Space, the void can't be any different. It could've been years to Shadow, but time doesn't seem to run in the void, only in the Shattered Spaces. If anything time seems to pause, or just stop working in the void. It doesn't exist there.

Shadow definitely isn't having fun, especially when you consider his alliance with Rouge and Omega, and even worse, his promise to Maria to keep the world safe.

4. (Psychological) Nine Being A Part Of Tails Says Something About All Of Us

One of the things talked about a lot is how Nine, if the shard theory is true, was a part of Tails to begin with. This bitter, jaded, violent, desperate, traumatized, in pain child was a part of the happy, jolly fox we all know and love.

But, if the theory is true, Nine having been a part of Tails all along speaks about how there's a hidden side in all of us. All of that bitterness, cruelty, selfishness, trauma, denial, desperateness, and love/touch starved hope is in all of us. But we try to deny, to hide, to avoid acknowledging it, which only makes it never go away, or makes it worse.

It isn't just Tails that denies it though, which is a whole other thing of itself...

4. (Lovecraft) They Can't Be By Each Other's Side, Both Are Doomed To Be Alone In Some Way

One of the saddest truths about Prime is that Nine and Sonic can't be by each other's side, they can't be there for each other: no matter how much they don't want to be, they have to be alone. Sonic is from a universe that's now destroyed, thrust into the remains of his actions face-first, he can't connect with these variants of his friends, and is emotionally alone.

Nine is just a part of the universe Sonic can't stay in, so there's no chance of them ever staying by each other's side, he's alone in both ways.

The universe, the shards won't allow it, thrusting Sonic from Nine via shard or by Sonic himself. Not to mention the inevitable fate that Nine has to face along with his fellow variants.

Their entire relationship is a world of inevitable pain.

5. (Psychological) The Dark Matter, Symbolism, And Complex Themes Of Prime

There's no denying it, at its core, with the sprinkled moments of unease and signs of deeper depths in the first batch, so far Prime's setting up a dark story, one filled with harsh tragedy. Pretty much every character suffers and is going to suffer even more in the second batch, the aspects of Sonic that save the day, Friendship and Hope is actually deconstructed in this show, showing how friendship can become a means of escapism and can't really save the day, and how hope can instead damage someone to denial.

Sonic is without his friends here and the friends he made out of the variants is going to be shattered once they find out the truth, so friendship can't be used, and his hopes to fix the world are...almost desperate, like he doesn't want to acknowledge that maybe it can't be fixed.

Another thing is that Prime actually has a lot of symbolism hidden in it. The Grim being a literal landscape of escapism, Nine's nine tails, the variants themselves being representations of different traits, the palm tree being a symbol of desperate hope, and more.

The final thing is the early complex themes in the show.

The inevitable fact that the variants has to die to restore the world is a very grim one, but it shows how painfully insignificant and meaningless they are in the grand scheme of things. They’re just shards that need to come together. That’s the universe for ya.

The use of "Man vs. Self" in this show instead of having Sonic just save the day and defeat bad guys

The exploration that there's a dark, sad, traumatized part in all of us

The need for balance in everything

The exploration of desire vs need, and most importantly:

Selfishness vs selflessness.

5. (Lovecraft) The Grim Is A Lovecraftian Horror Of Itself

The Grim is hauntingly beautiful. The sky is every color of blue, filled with stars, the ground is orange and endless, and silver crystals jut out of it, some partly buried.

Look at how small and insignificant Nine and Sonic looks here, how vast the Grim is that you can't see where it ends. It's truly an unsettling wonder. It looks unsettling and it is unsettling, not at all an ideal place to live in.

There are no trees, no water, no signs of any life. Nothing. You're alone, surrounded by absolutely nothing. The only thing there is you and your imagination.

Why isn't there any variants here? Why is it so empty? Why doesn't it end?

There's no answer except your own thoughts, speaking much louder now that there's nothing to distract you from them. You're alone, an insignificant speck in a vast world of beauty and isolation.

Paranoia would kick in, you'd think you heard something, but there's nothing there.

That's what the Grim is, it's nothing but you, there's nobody here, there's nothing here, this place never ends, it's the physical representation of isolation, of perfect escapism.

And that couldn’t be more terrifying…

#sonic prime #sonic the hedgehog #nine the fox #miles nine prower #dark #more sonic prime! #nine needs a hug #sonic needs a hug #everyone needs a hug #sonic prime analysis #horror #very long post #but worth it

[medusapelagia]

Harringrove Movember Day 2: First time at Therapy

written for @harringrovemovember

Rating: Teen and Up Relationship: Steve Harrington/Billy Hargrove WT: therapy, panic attack Words: 1018

"I don't want to go." "Billy…" "I don't need to, ok? It's you that needs this shit, ok? I'm perfectly fine. I have a good job, Neil is out of my life, Max and Susan are doing great. Everything is perfect!" "Apart from me." "Apart from… what?! Hey, no! Don't make me say things that I didn't mean!" Billy turns toward Steve, ready to fight, because the fight it's all he has ever known. "Yeah, I'm the fucking psycho who needs therapy, right? You don't! Because you don't wake up in the middle of the night screaming bloody hell! You don't get mad when I eat the last cookie and you weren't the one that punched the fucking door instead of my head after we argued!" Billy's cheeks are red with shame and anger. He is fucking fine. If Steve wants to waste money going to therapy, that's fine, he will take more hours at the machine shop, but he will not sit in front of a stranger telling them his darkest secrets.

"What do you want me to say to your fucking therapist? The same shit you say? That a pack of dogs mauled me too? That I'm scared of the dark because I was robbed? This is bullshit, Steve! fucking bullshit!" Billy regrets his words as soon as they leave his mouth. Steve is trembling in front of him, clearly having an episode, and Billy can't even touch him because he knows that things will get only worse, so he tries to talk to him, and tries to drag him out of his nightmare with his voice. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry Steve. You are right. I'm damaged and I ruin everything I touch, but you are the only important thing in my life. Come back to me. Please. I'll do whatever you want. I'll come to therapy. I'll do whatever but please, please, come back to me. I beg you." Steve blinks a couple of times, surprised at finding himself kneeling on the floor "Billy?" he calls confused and scared. Billy rushes to his side, holding him so tight that he must hurt him but Steve doesn't complain. "I'm here, I'm here. You are ok." "What happened?" It breaks Billy's heart having to explain that they argued and Billy inadvertently triggered Steve's panic attack. "I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry." "Billy." "Tell me." "Would you like to help me?" "Everything for you!" he agrees eagerly. "Come to therapy. With me." That's not on the table, Steve can't make him go and… "Ok… Ok. I'll come. For you."

Three days later they are sitting together in a little waiting area, in front of them is a man with some serious problem and a little girl with her mother. "Steve?" the therapist calls, and he gets up, smiling. "Hi, Andrea, this is Billy." "Oh, Billy! It's so nice of you to join us." Billy nods, shakes hands, and sits on the chair but says nothing at all, glaring at Steve and the woman on the other side who seems to be making small talk but keeps writing things on her little notebook. Does she know that everything Steve says is a lie? That there is an entire parallel dimension waiting full of monsters ready to kill them? "What do you say, Billy?" He jolts "Sorry?" "Steve was telling me that he is preoccupied because his needs are increasing and he doesn't want to be a burden to you. That's why I asked him if you could join our little chat." That's it? That's why Steve asked him to come? "He is not a burden." Billy quickly replies. "But he feels like it. Can you tell him what you said to me, Steve?" The boy nods but avoids Billy's eyes "I know that you're doing good, that everything in your life got better after Neil left but I… I feel like I'm holding you down. I feel that everything I do somehow makes you angry, or anxious and I wonder… I wonder if you would be better without me." Billy gets defensive "Do you want to break up with me?" Steve is still avoiding Billy, his eyes fixed on a stupid colorful poster, but his voice is wet when he whispers "I don't want to. I'm too egoistic to break up with you, even if I should. You would do so much better without me…" "That's what she said to you? Is it her that put those stupid ideas in your mind?!" Steve shakes his head "No, she… she tried to convince me that I deserved to be loved and that if you really loved me you would have done what is necessary to help me." Billy feels the hot blood in his veins turn suddenly cold "Tell me what do you need, baby. Tell me and I'll do it." Steve is crying, taking some tissues from the ugly pink container. "What Steve needs, Billy, is a safe environment, where he will feel that it is ok if he has a slip, that being a survivor comes with survivor's guilt, and that if he will ever feel like that you'll be there for him. Can you support him? Can you put your personal stuff away and dedicate yourself to him?" the woman asks with her plastic smile. Billy's hot blood would have answered that yes, of course, he is! He is his fucking boyfriend, he loves him and they have been through so many things together… But that would be his pride talking. The truth is that he doesn't have the tools to help Steve and he must admit it. "I… I would do everything for him. I would like to be anything he needs but…" Steve trembles and Billy obliges himself to finish the sentence before he gets too scared "But I think I need some help too." Steve turns toward him, eyes full of tears and astonishment. Andrea finally closes her little notebook and gives him a smile, a real one this time "I have a colleague who will be more than happy to help you."

#Harringrove Movember #Harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #stranger things fanfiction #tumblr prompt #billy x steve #medusapelagia

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Breathless (13th Doctor x Reader)

Synopsis: You're a little distracted.

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: none

You felt breathless. You couldn’t drag your eyes away from the exposed skin. The Doctor, usually in her coat, was sitting crossed legged on the floor, wires in her hand, goggles in place. You were alone with her, the others having left for the night but you’d stupidly offered her a helping hand. You were now cursing yourself.

She was talking to you, you could hear her voice, but individual words were lost on you. You were sitting on the stairs, hands caught under your thighs as you lent towards her. Warm light reflected off pale skin, shadows curling around collarbones. You couldn’t get rid of the image of your tongue dipping into that divot.

Swathes of skin on display, usually obscured by a coat, was like your personal hell. You wanted to trail your lips over it until her double heartbeat was tattooed on your soul. You wondered if it would be soft against your fingertips, if it would be as warm as her hands, if you’d feel her breath catching in her chest. Your tongue darted out, wetting your lips as your heartbeat grew loud in your ears.

You tore your eyes away from her, feeling heat beginning to creep up your neck. You needed to get a handle on yourself. The soft light was making it so much worse, the way her skin seemed to glow. Sparks flew from her wires, drawing your attention back to her.

She lent forward, a dark gap yawning close to eye level. You caught your lip between your teeth, trying to stop any kind of moan that might inadvertently spill from your mouth. Your eyes inevitably dragged back to her collarbone. You were itching to nip at it. You couldn’t stop your imagination running away from you, the noises she might make if you did. You weren’t sure you would survive it.

Your knee began to bob and you had to fight against the impulse to reach out to her. Fingers skimming along the neckline of her shirt, tongue lapping at the salt on her skin, lips pressing to her beating heart. You wanted it, enough that it became physically painful to stop yourself.

“Are you listening to me?”

You offered her a strained smile, “of course, Doctor.”

She stretched her neck, leaning her head to one side. You made a soft noise, eyes tracing along the line of her throat. You pushed your hair out of your face, feeling too warm. You couldn’t drag your eyes away from her, watching the rise and fall of her chest, almost hypnotised by it. She looked over at you, tilting her head as if asking a question.

You swallowed past a lump in your throat and turned your gaze down to your hands. Your fingers were twisting together, and your breathing was too rapid. Eyes darting up then down again, the vision of the woman in front of you calling to you like a siren. You squeezed your eyes closed.

When you opened them she was right in front of you, crouching on the stair below your feet. You jerked back, cursing how silent she could be when she wanted to. Those large hazel eyes were staring up at you, so soft you could drown in them. You pressed your lips together, doing your best not to lean towards her. The scent of oil and sparks curled around you.

“You’re being weird,” she said, “are you tired? If you’re tired you should go to bed. Humans need sleep.”

“Sleep?” You blinked at her. Your eyes dipped again and you had to bite back a moan from how good she looked.

“It’s quite late,” she said, “if you want to go sleep that’s okay. I can finish up here on my own. I’m quite good on my own.”

“I’m not really helping, am I?” you asked, wincing. Of course she picked up on your weirdness. She was so good at noticing when something was off.

“I’m always happy to have some company,” she said, smiling softly at you. Your heart felt like it was in your throat. Rogue thoughts of kissing the smile off her face bounced around your brain.

“Sorry,” you said, ducking your head.

You weren’t expecting her hand on your chin, tilting your face back up to look at her. Her eyes bounced around, taking you in and you felt the need to hide. You wet your lips again, your own eyes drawn back to that dip between her collarbone. Shadows played over her skin and you wanted to chase each and every one with your lips. You could practically taste her on your tongue.

“Are you just tired or is something else going on here?” she asked.

You watched the words vibrate through her throat. You wondered if you could catch them on your tongue if you tried hard enough. A double pulse pounding under your kiss, a breathless moan from parted lips, pale skin glowing in the light from the TARDIS. You wanted it so much it felt as if it was burning you up from the inside out.

“I’m sure I’m just tired,” you replied, your mouth growing dry.

“Are you sure?”

Somehow you managed to drag your eyes back up to her’s. She was still watching you with that intensity you’d come to expect from her. No one else was quite so good as making you feel like the most important thing in any given room. Maybe that’s all this was, wanting to make her feel the same way. Only she was the most important thing in any given room. Of that you were certain.

She tilted your head to one side then the other before pressing her ear to your chest. You froze. She could definitely hear how hard your heart was beating. You brought your hands up, hovering over her shoulders but unable to make contact. She pulled away, looking at you again.

“You don’t seem tired,” she said, “are you certain it’s not something else?”

“I’m just a bit distracted,” you replied, still recovering from having her so close, “silly human thing.”

“I love human things,” she said, sounding more like her old self, the self that didn’t murmur to you in the quiet of the night, the self that didn’t listen to your heart beat and ask what was wrong, the self that wasn’t totally focused on you, “tell me.”

“No, it’s…” You didn’t know how to put it into words without actually letting on what was going on in your head. The last thing you needed was for her to find out and look at you with pity when she couldn’t return your feelings.

“It can’t be that bad,” she said, “I get distracted all the time. I’m ace at getting distracted.”

“I’m not sure that’s something to brag about,” you laughed. Something in her face broke open and she was looking at you like you were something wonderful again. Your heart ached. You wanted this all of the time.

“Whatever it is you can tell me,” she said, her voice softening into a murmur again. She was so close her breath ghosted over your legs. It sent a shiver down your spine.

“Sometimes it’s just hard to focus,” you said, “when there are certain things going on.”

“What kind of things?”

Your gaze dropped again. You bit down on your lower lip and gently reached out, finger barely brushing against her collarbone. Her breath hitched and she stilled. You ran your fingertip along the bone until you met the soft material of her shirt.

“Just silly human things,” you whispered.

Slowly you looked up at her again. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was hanging open. You couldn’t tell what she was thinking. You wanted to know what she was thinking.

“I love silly human things.” Her voice sounded strained and you waited for her to tell you to stop. You would if she asked you to. You’d do anything she asked you to.

You ran your fingertip back along the bone, dipping into the divot and going along the other side. Her eyes closed briefly before opening again. She took a deep breath in, her eyes turning molten. She lent into your touch, almost pressing her chest against your hand, practically begging for your touch.

“Doctor,” you breathed.

“Tell me,” she requested again.

“You distract me,” you replied, unable to fight the compulsion to give her whatever she wanted, “thoughts of you, thoughts of what I want to do with you, watching you. Just… all of you.”

“Me?” With one word she broke your chest open, flooding you with light. There was so much wonder in her voice, as if she’d discovered something beyond wonderful. You wanted to save it, the moment, and never let it go.

Her fingertips ghosted over your cheek and she looked at you as if you held all the answers to the universe. Your own fingers were traveling along the hard ridge of her collarbone again, dipping into the divot, swirling over the prominent bump where bone stopped. You promised yourself one day your lips would make the same journey.

“It’s always been you,” you murmured.

You would never be able to tell who moved first but your lips were on hers and her fingers were buried in your hair as your own curled around the back of her neck. Her body strained forward and up as you lent down, the awkward angle of the stairs somehow making it both difficult and perfect in equal measure. Her other hand landed on the stair you were leaning against, caging you in as she pressed closer.

Her tongue swept into your mouth, stealing your breath and her fingers tugged at your hair. A moan rumbled through your chest and you thought she might have been smiling against your lips. You parted your legs and with your free hand you tugged her closer until your thighs were wrapped around her waist. She groaned into your mouth, pressing herself more insistently against you as all thoughts fled your mind. There was only this, only her, and you wanted it all.

You couldn’t stop yourself, trailing your lips down until her double pulse thrummed under your tongue. She made a soft noise in the back of her throat, fingers tightening in your hair until it was almost deliciously painful. You nipped at it and her head fell back, a word in an unknown language falling from her lips.

She pulled you back into a kiss, teeth tugging at your bottom lip. You moaned again, electricity running over every nerve ending in your body. You wanted her to touch every inch of you, wanted her in ways you couldn’t begin to understand, wanted her in every single way it was possible to have her. Her body was so soft against yours, pressing against you in a way that stole your breath.

When she finally pulled away she was breathing hard and her lips were kiss swollen. You were sure you looked a mess but all you could focus on was how brightly her eyes shone and the grin that was slowly taking over her face. She was still pressing you into the stairs, not moving away, as you both gasped for the air hanging between you.

“How was that?” she asked, “I’m a little rusty but I think that went alright.”

“Doctor.” You shook your head, trying to figure out what was going through your head, “that was easily the best kiss I’ve ever had.”

“Oh good, another thing I’m good at. I’ll add it to the list,” she said, “I actually did start a list a few centuries back but it got too long and complicated that I gave up on it. Then I lost it. Or threw it into an exploding star. One or the other. But I don’t need it really. It’s all in my head anyway. That’s another thing I’m good at, remembering things.”

You couldn’t help yourself. You pressed your lips to her’s, effectively shutting her up. She kissed you with an enthusiasm you’d always associated with her, and you couldn’t stop yourself moaning into her mouth. She practically vibrated under your touch, pressing closer to you. She stole the breath from your chest as her tongue plundered your mouth and her fingers tugged on your hair.

This time you broke away, surprised at the whimper you got in return. Her lips pressed to your cheek, your neck, the soft spot behind your ear. You tipped your head back as her lips played over your skin, tongue flicking out to taste you. The weight of her against you was delicious and not enough and you wanted more from her, always more.

“Doctor,” you breathed, your voice raspy and not quite under your control, “oh god, Doctor.”

“So brilliant, so beautiful,” she whispered into your skin before murmuring in another language you didn’t understand. You were burning up from the inside out under her touch. You couldn’t wrap your head around how you’d gotten here. It was better than a dream.

“I don’t think this is-‘ You broke off as she sucked on your skin, a jolt sent right between your thighs, “I don’t think this is going to help with being distracted.”

“Good,” she said, “now you can understand how I feel around you.”

“What?”

She drew back, a soft smile on her face. It was so at odds with the desperation you were feeling. She pressed a short kiss to your lips, only fanning the flames. You whined when she pulled back. You tried to tug her back against your body. You already missed the feeling of her weight pressing against you.

“You distract me every day,” she said, “all the time. You’re very good at it. Lots of thoughts and so many are about you.”

“Me?” It was like your lightbulb moment.

“Always you.”

She pressed her forehead against yours, all softness. The flames had burned down into a simmer and you were beginning to be able to breath normally again. Her hand slipped from your hair, resting on your shoulder now, although you were still trapped between her body and the stairs.

“Doctor?” you whispered.

She hummed in response.

“Would you like to go on a date with me?” you asked.

Her answering kiss stole your remaining breath and needless to say her work never got done and you never got to sleep that night.

#thirteenth doctor imagine #thirteenth doctor x reader #13th doctor imagine #13th doctor x reader #doctor who imagine

[raayllum]

So as we know, a lot of what is said about the Cube so far is meant to be literal, down to how it’s foreshadowed in 1x04 from the start

So with that in mind I want to talk about what is probably my favourite line regarding the Key (and the last time the motif was mentioned directly to Callum until S4) from 2x07, which is:

You practicing magic, or are you losing to Bait a game of rolly-cubes?

So let’s talk about it.

1) Losing a Game

First off is the most literal layer that arguably makes me scream the most which is that Callum is losing a game. This is major as in S1-S3, the Game Motif running throughout the show that S4 explicitly ties to Aaravos directly was largely regulated solely to his cube. We also know that come hell or high water eventually all the heroes’ efforts to stop Aaravos from being freed have to fail. Therefore, while Callum and co. will eventually win in the end (S7) they have to fail first. They have to lose the game. The only thing we don’t know for certain is how/why. 

2) Practicing magic

The next layer is the mention of magic and I could see this going two ways. On the one hand, Callum’s journey with magic has always had the the game motif littered throughout (“Is this a guessing game? Just do it!” moments before he does his first spell) and indeed what put him on a path to the cube and Aaravos in the first place: “Mages were his prey.” We could see Callum’s path with magic, for a variety of reasons, being what causes him to lose the game, even if he thinks at first perhaps he is improving or it is the right thing to do.

On the other hand, this could foreshadow even later in the series than we think, with magic being a core part of Aaravos’ downfall and Callum ultimately ‘winning’ the game. That, and framing things - like war or death or the end of the world - as a game to win is something that has mostly been in Aaravos’ forte, not Callum’s, who is more sincere and sensitive. Thus I think Aaravos’ initial game that everyone is entangled in is his quest for freedom (seeking Callum’s primary thematic core) that will give way to a quest of warped Justice (Ezran’s thematic core), presumably. Aaravos has been beaten at his own game once by the archdragons, but I don’t think that sort of move is probable this time around, either.

If you want more thoughts on what sort of magic may cause Callum to inadvertently fall into Aaravos’ path, I have an analysis / predictions post here regarding different viabilities of dark magic.

Thus, given the symbolism I think it’s most likely that this relates to Aaravos’ plans to get out, as he does say immediately proceeding this, “Oh, my time has come. My return to this world is inevitable” not something more vague like “My plan is in motion” or something that like, but specifically regarding his return.

3) Rolly-cubes

This is perhaps one of the more interesting implications. The game could be left up in the air, but Rayla’s line makes it clear that Callum is a participant in a game due to the ‘rolly-cubes,’ that the cube itself is a key (haha!) part of the game. But this again makes sense if the cube is part of what is and has been, narratively, dragging Callum into Aaravos’ machinations more than anything else. If the game revolves around Aaravos’ Key, and the ‘win’ is Aaravos getting out, than this line makes that connection explicit. 

4) To Bait

I’ve talked before about Bait’s weird connotations with the cube which I won’t go into here, but am very curious about (given that glow-toads / glow-toys are also used as bait to catch deep-sea fish, Aaravos’ prison being presumably in water, next season as Ocean, etc). And again, this is where I think the phrasing is very interesting, if it is meant to be this intentional or taken so literally. For example, Callum being lured in by the mystery of the cube - for the cube itself to be ‘bait’ in which you are taken in, hook line and sinker - only to get in over his head and backed into a corner by Aaravos, this is something I could see even if I don’t think Callum would ever let himself go quite that far without some other kind of external motivation (perhaps thinking it could free him from Aaravos’ possession, or something).

But Rayla makes sure the rolly-cube and Bait are distinct. Are you losing to Bait at a game. Are you losing to bait at The Game? Which indicates that the bait that will make Callum lose the game the cube has pulled him into is not the cube itself. The bait isn’t the cube; it’s something else, something else he wants.

And well - you know I think I know exactly what that is. 

#game motif #analysis series #s5 speculation #arc 2 #arc 1 #analysis #the key of aaravos #mini meta #tdp #2x07 #s2 #rotating around 'what does callum Want' #worked on this for way too long rip me

[thewitchandtheassassin]

Hello, Stranger (Valkyrie x Reader)

Summary: Time heals most wounds.

Words: 910

Warnings: Violence, language, mentioned death.

A/N: I took a brief hiatus to deal with some family issues, but we back, babes.

Taglist: @natasharomanoffswife​ @natasha-danvers​ @aaron-despair​ @username23345 @xjiasx​ @nowthisisliving27 @higherfurther-romanova​ @summergeezburr @marvels-writings @imnotasuperhero @miscmarvelwritings @captain-josslett @onlyafewfindtheway @hayleyokami @b-5by5 @lostandsearching @evilcr0ne

-X-

Confronting Hela was something Valkyrie had never planned to do again. Joining Thor on his reckless crusade to save his remaining people and end his sister’s reign of terror, she’d expected to be really drunk and fighting until she couldn’t any longer. Instead, she was seeing the dark haired, vile princess Odin had masterfully crafted (and subsequently destroyed) once again.

“Ah, the last Valkyrie,” Hela cooed. “How tragic it must be, to see what you fought so valiantly fought for in devastation all because your kind couldn’t manager to do your duty and protect them. It must eat at your very soul.”

Valkyrie’s grip on her sword tightened, righteous fury burning bright in her eyes as she stared at the woman who’d taken everything from her centuries ago – and was trying to do the same again.

“Your little girlfriend, (Y/N). Now she was a true Valkyrie. Father was not thrilled with your relationship, you know. He hated his two best warriors were frolicking about together. My final hope of making amends with him was killing her, spilling her mighty blood all over the throne room so you would have no distractions, but to no avail. Such a waste. She would’ve made a fine queen.”

The tip of her blades dragged across the bridge as she glanced between Brunnhilde and her brother casually, a pleased smirk on her lips. Hearing your name again had left Valkyrie frozen in misery, the past washing over her like a tsunami. It was no secret you’d been murdered but to know it was done to appease the man who inadvertently caused all this destruction?

“I’ll kill you,” Valkyrie promised, voice wavering.

“We shall kill you,” Thor amended with a firm nod, sparing Valkyrie a sympathetic glance. “You will not have Asgard.”

Hela’s eyes darkened. “I am Asgard.”

Thor surged with power as he charged his sister, deflecting her blades with a fair amount of ease. Valkyrie followed suit, rage fueling every movement. Could she kill the Goddess of Death? Probably not. Would she do her best to knock that stupid crown off the woman’s head, even if it meant dying in the process?

Absolutely.

Blinded by anger, she was oblivious to the lone figure lingering on the other side of the bridge. All she could envision was your pain; wondered what your last moments must’ve been like as Hela plunged a blade into your chest. Or did she slit your throat? Did you even know it was coming?

Everyone had known the princess fancied you but you’d never strayed from Brunnhilde’s side, both her partner in battle and in life. She doubted Hela had killed you simply for Odin’s satisfaction; if she couldn’t have you, Hela was going to make sure no one could.

“She died a hero,” Valkyrie hissed, sword meeting armor as she glared at the smug goddess. “You will die a bitter, worthless, forgotten murderer.”

The change in Hela was immediate as her free hand clamped around Valkyrie’s throat, the pressure dangerous as she dragged their faces close together.

“You did not deserve her. I would slain Odin where he stood if she had asked me to; if she had given me a chance instead of you. It’s a shame I can’t keep your soul from joining hers in the afterlife, but it’s a small price to pay.”

Valkyrie’s fingers tried prying Hela’s loose but as her head began to swim, her grip weakened. Her eyes lazily drifted over towards Thor, watching him struggle to combat the plethora of blades raining upon his form. He wouldn’t save her in time and she was at peace with that, knowing she’d see you soon.

Hell, she could see you now, though she was certain you were a mirage or a spirit meant to guide her onward.

(Y/N)…

Your face became vividly detailed as your hand wrapped around a branch of spikes, yanking Hela’s head backwards and knocking Valkyrie from her hold. Crumpling to the bridge in a startled heap, she couldn’t help the tears springing forth at the sight of you calmly beating the truly stunned goddess like she was nothing but a training bag. Maybe it was surprise stunting her movements or maybe you’d just gotten stronger over time.

She didn’t know – and she didn’t care.

“I – you –”

Tilting your head, you kicked Hela squarely in the chest, forcing her back to the bridge as you stared down at her.

“I’ve waited centuries for this,” you sneered, the first glimpse of emotion crossing your features. “I knew you were going to kill me. Either at Odin’s behest or in your own fit of ugly jealously. I visited the Light Elves, in hopes of finding a piece of magic that might keep my soul even if my body were to meet an end. And I found one. I simply forgot that elven magic takes time and for them, I’m sure thousands of years mean nothing.”

Peering over to the blond man, you gestured to the goddess.

“She’s all yours.”

Ignoring the creature bursting forth from the remains of Asgard – and tuning out the blond man’s banter with Hela – you strolled over to Valkyrie, offering a hand and a familiar smile. The bridge trembled as a bolt of lightning sent the would-be queen plummeting into the water, but you didn’t spare it a single moment of thought. Their apparent family squabbles were none of your concern.

All you could see was her.

“Hello, stranger.”

#valkyrie x reader #valkyrie imagine #thor ragnorak #marvel cinematic universe #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #MCU fanfiction

[giggly-squiggily]

imma put in a small bllk senario here ehehe

remember episode 24 where rin was teaching the gang english

rin got angry at bachira for throwing the paper plane at him so tokimitsu had to hold him back but accidentally squeezed rin’s hips while doing so… maybe thats how they found out rin was ticklish there (/•/w/•/)

and then hell broke loose and it just ends up being tickle fight, rin on the loosing end (i can imagine isagi just hiding in the corner being a bystander again ehehhehe)

have a nice day

Aekjajkrjkejkrjkt this is golden! Rin needs to be tickled more often akjlerjkajkrakjr I had to turn it into a fic- that's the laws of Squiggily brain-rot. I hope you like it, friend!

EP. 24 SPOILERS AHEAD: It's nothing wild or major; it's literally based off that hilarious scene, but I'll tag accordingly anyway :)

Cloud 9 (Taglist peeps)

@cupcake-spice13

“I can FLY DAY!” Bachira cheered, his paper airplane soaring across the table and smacking Rin dead on.

That was the last straw, it seemed.

“Screw this! I can’t take it anymore!” A notebook went flying, smacking Bachira in the back of the head as Rin stood in rage, veins pulsing and fist knuckle white. “How long do we have to do this shit- COME HERE!”

“Ah, no! Rin, wait!” Tokimitsu yelped, arms wrapping tightly around Rin’s waist in an effort to keep him from jumping across the table. Aryu was still trying to figure out the whole “Th” noise, wincing when he bit his tongue, as Bachira made a bunch of gibberish in his seat, giggling through the entire thing.

Isagi pulled one earbud out, taking a moment to watch the chaos go down around him. He wasn’t surprised this was the outcome of their lessons. Not with Rin’s short temper and Bachira’s inadvertent way of grinding it down to a nub.

Still- it didn’t make the sight any less entertaining. He paused his audio but kept his headphones in as he watched.

“Rin, calm down! We have to get this right!” Tokimitsu was losing grip and adjusted his hands, one coming to the teal-haired teen’s hip and squeezing. “Ego Sensei will be-”

“GAH!”

Another new development- Isagi felt his eyes widen when Rin’s leg seemed to give out suddenly, sending him back into Tokimitsu. The buffer of the pair yelped as he adjusted once more, preventing any injury. Unfortunately- whatever he did got a similar noise out of Rin and the two hit the deck, a foot kicking the table on the way down and sending homework flying everywhere. Isagi yelped, hands shooting out to stop the table from upsizing onto the remainder of their little group.

“R-Rin! I’m so sorry, did I hurt you?” Tokimitsu squawked pitifully, arms still around the taller boy.

“I’m fine, now get the hell off me!” Rin snapped, trying and failing to pull himself free from the other’s death grip. “I swear to god-nngh!”

“Hold still- you just kicked the table.” Aryu crawled over, dragging a finger up Rin’s foot as he checked for damages. “So not glam- but it’s not broken. It’s gonna hurt for a few days, I'd imagine."

“Whatehever, now let me up- GAH! Rin yelped again, only this time instead of Tokimitsu being the cause, it was Bachira. “What the hell, bob cut?”

“My my, this is interesting~” Bachira cooed, eyes dancing. “Rin-chan, you didn’t yelp because Tokimitsu tickled you, did you?”

To Isagi’s absolute amazement, Rin’s face flushed a pretty pink color. He had yet to witness the other blush at anything before.

“Bachira, I swear to god, I will suffocate you in your sleep tonight-” Rin growled, only to let out a choked laugh when Aryu wiggled a finger against his foot once more. "Stop that!"

“Oh my, what a glam discovery~ Our dear Rin is ticklish?” He shared a look with Bachira, nodding once. “Keep him down, Toki.”

"Okay! Sorry, Rin!"

“NO! No, get the hell away! Stay bahahhahhack!” Rin tried sounding intimidating, but the second Bachira’s fingers attacked his hip, it was over. “Baahhahchira, dohohohohon’t!”

“Hehe! Tickle tickle, Rin~”

Isagi almost dropped his cassette, eyes wide and a faint blush on his cheeks as he listened to Rin laugh. It was bright and rich sounding, contrasting greatly with his usually subdued personality. He was currently in a losing fight between yanking away Tokimitsu’s arms caging him in and slapping at Bachira’s aggressive fingers; his leg kicking helplessly as he tried wiggling away from Aryu’s pinching fingers against his knee.

Isagi had heard a lot of laughs in Blue Lock. Soft muffled giggles from Chigiri to loud booming cackles from Kunigami. Bachira’s gremlin snickers to the high pitched titters of Nagi. All were great to listen to, and Rin’s was right up there.

And holy gods, that smile…

“Wow, Rin-chan! Aren’t you pretty when you smile!” Bachira sang, his thumb pressing against a particularly bad spot that had Rin swearing through his giggle fits. “I bet you love this, huh? Do you like it when I tickle you here? Or here?” He had both hands attacking now, gently massaging the joint between where his leg began and hip ended. That earned him a rather delightful sounding scream. “Ooo, that’s a bad spot, huh?”

‘BAHAHAHHCHIRA, FUHHUHUHUCKING STAHHAHAP IHIHIHIIIHT!” Rin swore, cheeks a deep shade of pink and eyes squeezed shut with mirthful tears. He looked about at his limit, and Isagi felt compelled to say something.

“Now, Bachira, let the man breathe.” Aryu, who must have been thinking the same thing, reached out and gently prodded the younger boy’s ribs. “We still need five people afterall.”

“Aehehe! Oohoohokay-Take THIS!” Bachira cheered, diving forward onto Aryu with flying fingers. They danced along his ribs, and Aryu…

“Oh..you’re not ticklish..” Bachira stopped, sounding a tad bummed at the discovery. Aryu smirked, eyes dangerous.

“Oh no, I am ticklish- just not there. A bold guess though- very glam of you. Now~” Aryu’s long arms were around Bachira in seconds, the smaller teen’s shrieks of laughter quickly came as painted nails drilled into his shoulder blades. “Come on, let’s see how bad it is for you!”

“Bachira! Hang on-” Tokimitsu released an exhausted Rin, scooting towards the pair in an attempt to save their dribbler. “I know where to go! His thighs- Ehehehehehehe!” Tokimitsu didn’t get a chance to finish- Aryu had released one hand to squeeze beneath the muscly player’s ribs, making him shoot up and squeal.

“Another glam guess, but you’re incorrect. Let’s see if either of you can figure it out.” Aryu let out a soft titter as he brought both boys down beneath him, Bachira’s cheeks pink and Tokimitsu laughing helplessly. Isagi pushed a fist against his mouth, shaking with mirth at the sight.

“Gohohod..he’s awful.” Rin groaned, surprising Isagi out of his giggle fit. He looked exhausted, hair messy and ears still bright red. Isagi resisted the urge to muse his hair more and call him cute. “How the hell did you get through Team Z with him pulling that crap?”

“Honestly? Scapegoats.” Isagi nodded, reflecting back on the many times he might have “redirected” Bachira’s attention to a different person in the team. “Didn’t always work of course- when Bachira wants to tickle someone, he’ll do it.”

“Hm…” Rin was quiet, then those pretty eyes of his slid over to Isagi, something curious in his gaze. “So does that mean you’re ticklish?”

“Rin Itoshi.” Isagi turned to him fully, raising his chin. “I am but a mere mortal aiming to be the greatest striker in the world. I have the ability to lie, but I won’t. I am ticklish. HOWEVER!” He cried dramatically, startling the other. “If you dare tickle me, I now have the knowledge that you’re just as bad if not more. If you dare choose to tickle me today, I shall find you in your bed at the wee hours of the night and tickle you until you’re pleading for the Soccer gods to strike you where you stand.” He raised a brow, daring the other to try.

Rin blinked, staring at him. A slight twitch to his lip was the only indication he thought Isagi’s ‘anime protag monologue’ was amusing. “I’ll take my chances.” He decided a second later, and before long, Isagi was flat on his back, squealing and giggling like a child as Rin seeked out all his own tickle spots.

Thanks for reading!

#blue lock #tickle #tickle fic #rin itoshi #aryu jyubei #tokimitsu aoshi #bachira meguru #isagi yoichi #fluff #dorks being dorks #english lessons gone wary #blue lock spoilers #blue lock anime spoilers #blue lock episode 24 spoilers