#she got bleach on the sleeve and i had JUST bought it so i just fucking wear it anyway because god damn it

[synthaphone]

self portrait

#doodles #the shirt is greg wright's shiny mega gengar design #i have two of it and both are ruined- the first one the white almost entirely peeled off; the second my hairdresser ruined #she got bleach on the sleeve and i had JUST bought it so i just fucking wear it anyway because god damn it #other good shirts i own: a good couple of yiq's good pokemon shirts that my gf got me for my birthday #like two other greg wright shirts #a kari fry dragonite shirt #an aquabats shirt that's like... completely ruined; its almost all faded out and i can't wear it out anymore #a tmbg concert shirt with cats on it #an alien aisha shirt that i LOVED but the first time i washed it the entire picture faded to almost invisible so that sucked #anyway... t shirts

[violettelueur]

— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE EIGHT || BOREDOM

↳ featuring : fushiguro megumi + kugisaki nobara + gojo satoru + zenin maki + inumaki toge + panda + aoi todo + zenin mai + miwa kasumi + gakuganji yoshinobu (mentions of itadori yuji + ieiri shoko) from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mention of violence + EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 02 march

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 5.8k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....

↳ previous episode : assault 

↳ next episode : small fry and reverse retribution

↳ barista’s notes : hi there everyone! right now i know i haven’t been the most active i have been but i really thankful on how patient you all are ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆ my procrastination has reach a new all time high since my birthday is on saturday and i am dreading becoming 18 because that means i will be a legal adult and i also have exams soon...ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ moving on from that, i hope you all enjoys today’s episode!

BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only.

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’ - but none is mentioned in this chapter.

2.5 for the ‘cursed spells’/kidos (bleach) i will link this video here and tell you the time stamp to check out what i am intending to show - remember i add a few twist here and there by adding the katana to link with Y/N’s cursed technique

no cursed spells used this episode... 

but the little flick that Y/N does is inspired from this video here

3. if you are confused on anything, please don’t hesitate to message me since i know this whole thing is so confusing.

“You really need to stop with your assaults Gojo,” Fushiguro stated, as he pressed his index and middle finger on the middle of his forehead, as he remembered the pain that came along with your flick as well as complaining about the side head slap he had gained from you.

“Nah, you just got to stop asking stupid questions Fushiguro,” you commented back before asking Kugisaki want she was planning to get.

‘So make sure you’re not alone in this world like I am Y/N, I want you to be happy even when we’re both stuck with this burden!’

‘I’m trying mother,’ you thought, as you tightly gripped your phone that was still in your pocket.

                                              ꕥ

“I never really thought you were the type that would go to the beach,” you commented, as you leisurely walked towards the calm ocean with a pair of arms wrapped around yours (that was holding your shoes) since your mother wanted to walk side by side with you to enjoy this tranquil moment together.

“I never thought that about myself either, but it’s better to be surprised then going back to the city again, is it not?” your mother asked with a let out a gentle laugh before instantly halting the moment you both felt the warm water covering your bare feet.

“I guess so,” you stated before using your other arm to partly cover your face due to the sunlight brightly blinding your eyes. However, it seemed like where your mother was standing wasn’t causing her too much irritation - maybe it wasn't as bright from where she was.

Currently, it was sunset at Tatadohama beach - to which surprised you that there weren’t as many people as you thought - where your mother had taken you since she thought you both deserved a bit of a break before you could go back to school since it was the summer break and to be honest, you needed it since you and your mother just came back from a job of exorcising a grade-one curse while trying to escape the scene before any other jujutsu sorcerers came.

“You look beautiful though, your mother has good taste doesn’t she?” your mother teasingly asked in a rhetorical manner, as she took her time to observe you rather than the sunset that was in front of her. Right now, you were some simple jean shorts that were somewhat quite large letting the gentle breeze cool you down leading you to fasten a black belt with a silver buckle which tucked in a simple short-sleeved oversized white button-up shirt that was loose, so you wouldn’t feel tight around your upper body as well as dressing for the warm weather that was approaching.

“It is quite plain, but it’s simple and cute,” you commented, as you peered down at your mother’s clothing choices before looking back up to view the beautiful setting in front of you, as your mother smiled gently before placing her head on your shoulder.

“Promise me that you’ll be okay,” your mother suddenly uttered quietly, leading you to give off a confused look before turning your head down slightly only to discover a small smile on her face with softened eyes as if she was relishing the moment with you.

“You’re acting like you're going to die tomorrow,” you comedically commented, leading your mother to laugh at your statement which caused you to giggle slightly since your mother’s laugh was always contagious when you were with her. Taking a deep breath in to calm down, your mother slowly calmed down before lifting her head up as she sighed.

“Well, anything can happen and I want your word that you will do anything to be safe,” your mother expanded on her previous statement, causing you to turn to her to look at her in the eye, trying to see and understand what your mother really wanted you to know before you nodded at her with a small smile.

“I promise mother” 

                                               ꕥ

“Oi Y/N, wake up”

Slowly opening your eyes, you slowly blinks a few times as you try to get a clearer view from what you were looking at before steadily realising that you were at the track field where you were training with the rest of the students.

Shifting your eyes to look up slightly, only to discover all the upperclassmen looking down at you with the tree leaves covering you from the sunlight that was beaming down right now.

‘Oh...that’s right, I’m at Jujutsu Tech’

“Sorry for making you fight with all of us, I bet you were exhausted, but we need you to check up on Megumi and Nobara since they went to do some errands,” Panda expressed with hands pressed together as a sign of forgiveness.

“Kelp,” Inumaki commented as if affirming Panda’s statement leading you to sit up slowly before stretching your arms to get read of the stiffness that was consuming them before taking in Zenin’s outstretched arm to help you up - something you both been doing for quite some time during the week - before picking up the black track top of brought out for today’s training that you were laying on top of.

“Sorry for sleeping, where are they?” you asked, as you covered your mouth to yawn since you didn’t want to seem rude to your second-year seniors.

“They should be getting a few drinks for themselves and us from the vending machines, they didn’t want to wake you up, but we knew they probably need some help remembering what we want,” Zenin answered, as she used her thumb to point behind her the direction you needed to take.

“Sorry, I’ll get going then,” you commented before tying the track top around your waist before picking up your black katana since you didn’t want to leave it alone before waving at them when you were beginning to head off.

“I’ll see you guys later,” you mentioned before Inuamki shouted ‘Salmon’ back at you before you swiftly made your way up the stone steps to find both your classmates Fushiguro and Kugisaki to get the drinks that the other wanted since you knew that they’ll probably both forget or take too long for your senior’s liking.

“I’m surprised she can still run after all those practice matches,” Panda stated, as he continued to stare at the direction that you headed out in.

“She’s strong, there is no surprise Gojo has taken her into his family and out of training to take some missions,” Zenin commented before continuing with, “she comes back really quickly to resume training with us,”.

“Mustard leaf,” Inumaki mentioned, as he nodded at his classmate’s remark about you before all of the second years went off for their walk, as they gave you time to run your errands before coming back to the field to train for the Kyoto Sister-School Goodwill Event.

                                               ꕥ

Looking at her drinks in front of her, Kugisaki was disappointed at the lack of variety that the machines had as she groaned in annoyance before pressing her choice of the cold drink she wanted before checking to make sure there was orange juice in the vending machine since she knew you would want some when she got back to you.

“Couldn’t they put in a few more vending machines?” Kugisaki asked in an irritated tone, as she bent down to collect her drink from the takeout port before turning around to look at her classmate, who was standing behind her.

“They can’t. There are only so many workers who can come in here,” Fushiguro answered, as he turned to look at her only for the female to turn back around to place more money into the coin slot. “What else are you buying?” Fushiguro asked since he knew that Kugisaki as well as himself didn’t know what the upperclassmen wanted - that was usually your job.

“Gojo really likes orange juice, so I wanted to buy her some since she did train with all of us, I bet she’s still sleeping,” Kugisaki commented before contemplating if you wanted to bottle or carton version of the citrus juice since she didn’t know if you always bought the carton one on purpose.

However, before she could come to the conclusion on what you probably wanted, she noticed from the corner of her eye that there were two people standing at the other side of the outdoor hallway they were at. From what she can observe, it seemed like those two people were from Jujutsu Tech due to their uniforms as the male had what seemed to be an angry expression while the other student - who looked similar to Zenin Maki - had a sly smile on her face.

“What are you doing here, Zenin-senpai?” Fushiguro asked in confusion since he wasn’t expecting anyone from Kyoto Metropolitan Curse Technical College to come to their side.

“Oh, she’s one, too?” Kugisaki queried while turning her head to look at Fushiguro before continuing with, “They do seem similar, are they sisters?” as she turned back to look at the female student to get a closer look at her.

“They’re twins,” Fushiguro answered quickly.

“Don’t call me that, Fushiguro-kun. You make me sound the same as Maki, call me Mai,” Mai stated, as she gave the two Tokyo students a wink.

“So there are the pinch hitters for Okkotsu and the third-years?” the male student stated with a hostile tone while glaring at them with a look of pure disappointment.

“We came here with the principal because we were worried about you. Your classmate died, right? Was that rough? Or did you think nothing of it?” Mai asked with the smirk still painted on her face, leading Fushiguro and Kugisaki to tense at her sudden but somewhat offensive questions.

“What are you trying to say?” Fushiguro asked tensely, as he suddenly felt a slight bit of annoyance building up in his stomach.

“It’s okay, some things are hard to say out loud, so I’ll say it for you,” Mai amusingly stated before proceeding, “‘Vessel’ makes it sound nice, but it means he was a half-curse monster. Having such a tainted, inhuman being beside you brazenly calling himself a jujutsu sorcerer must have been revolting right? Aren’t you feeling better now that he’s dead?”. However, her questions only lead to extremely vexed expressions appearing on both of the Tyoko student’s faces.

“Mai, don’t bring up such pointless topics, I’m only here to see if these guys are fit to take Okkotsu’s place, that’s all I want to know,” the large male declared as he took a few steps forwards before throwing his school jacket to the side, leading to the shikigami sorcerer to tense up once again as he began to worry what was about to happen.

“Fushiguro, was it?” the large male asked before shouting in a proud manner…

“What kind of woman is your type?”

Suddenly perplexed, Fushiguro as well as Kugisaki, shifted their heads to the side simultaneously to convey their unexpected confusion to the two Tokyo students especially to the male that had just asked the weird as well as absurd question.

“Depending on your answer, I’ll beat you half to death right here and drag Okkotsu, or at least the third-years, out to the exchange event,” the large Kyoto student threatened as he processed to unexpectedly and violently ripped his purple shirt into shreds, showcasing his large muscular upper body before positioning himself in his usual fighting stance as he then suddenly announced, “by the way, my type is a tall woman with a big ass!”.

“Why do I have to talk about my taste in women with a guy I just met?” Fushiguro annoyingly asked as he began to express an irritated expression on his face at the Kyoto student that suddenly declared a fight out of nowhere.

“He’s right. That’s a tall hurdle for an antisocial guy,” Kugisaki unintentionally comedically commented, as she pointed at her stoic classmate, leading Fushiguro to express a more vexed expression.

“You be quiet. This is confusing enough already. You’ll just make it more complicated,” Fushiguro mentioned as an irked mark became more visible on his right cheek, displaying his displeasure on what was happening right now.

“Kyoto, third-year, Todo Aoi,” the Kyoto Tech sorcerer introduced himself. “Introduction over,” Todo announced as he then continued by saying, “now we’re friends. Hurry up and answer, if you prefer men, that’s fine too,”.

“A person’s fetishes reflect everything about them,” Todo explained, indicating the reason why he was asking his laughable question in the first place. “People with boring taste in women are boring people themselves,” Todo passionately proclaimed, as if he was presenting a speech to the whole of Japan at this moment in time before he exclaimed, “I hate boring men.”

“And I hate drags like you”

Turning his head slightly to view what was going on behind him, Todo managed to get a glimpse of a person that was right behind his school mate. A female standing with her hands in her pockets with what seemed to be a katana hanging horizontally unlike Okkotsu, who had his vertically, with a nonchalant expression painted on her face.

“Also your drag ass friend, she has quite a big mouth for a Grade three sorcerer from what I can sense, is this what I’m really fighting against Fushiguro?” you asked before you started to walk past the other sorcerer as you made your way to the vending machine to grab the drinks that the second-years usually requested when they made you run errands during a break from training.

“Gojo! You’re awake?” Kugisaki asked as she smiled at you before quickly mentioning there was money already in the machine since she was planning to get you your drink.

“You heard everything?” Fushiguro questioned as he turned his view to you, only to discover you pressing on the button that correlated to the carton of orange juice as you mentioned to Kugisaki that you were going to pay her back before turning your head to look at your other classmate.

“Yeah, I heard everything. You guys are loud and to be honest, both of them need to shut up, they’re such drags,” you muttered disrespectfully since you could tell they were at least a year or two years above you in the academic year.

However, it seemed like your insult didn’t stop Todo from explaining his passion for people’s preferences in a partner as he continued to declare his speech with pride, much to your complete dismay.

“As I was saying, the exchange event is where my soul can be free as blood boils and flesh clashes, who knows what I might do if my last exchange event ends up boring me?” Todo rhetorically questioned as he maintained his fighting stance as if he was ready to pounce within a  second with a confident smile on his face.

‘Shut up...I have to meet with Gojo-sensei later and I don’t want a massive headache to come in before it becomes worse when I see him’

“Hey, aren’t the Jujutsu Tech schools four-year schools?” Kugisaki asked in an unsure manner as she turned to look at Fushiguro since she was trying to take note from you on what drinks to buy in case you weren’t able to for the seniors. However, she was confused about why Todo mentioned that this was going to be his last exchange event when he was a thrid-year.

“Only third-years and under can join the exchange event,” Fushiguro quickly answered Kugisaki’s question as she then let out an understandable ‘Hmm’ to inform her classmate that she acknowledged what he had just told her before swiftly turning back to notice that you had brought a cold water bottle for what seemed to be for Zenin (Maki) since you and her were looking at your phone to see a note displayed on the screen.

“As a show of kindness, I’ll let you off only half-dead right now,” Todo threatened again before repeating the weird question that instinctively started this whole situation, “answer me, Fushiguro. What kind of woman is your type?”

“Is this some kind of comedy routine?” the shikigami user angrily asked, as he increasingly got annoyed at what was happening right now and was confused on why he was picked in the first place.

“Don’t get into a fight, I seriously can’t be bothered to use any reverse cursed technique to heal your wounds if you do and we need to get back to training soon,” you stated before pressing on the last button for the last drink that was needed to be given for Inumaki when you get back.

However, it seemed as if both of your classmates didn’t listen to you since Kugisaki was now observing the other student behind Todo due to her uniform. “Is that your summer uniform?” Kugisaki asked in a light tone, as she admired the outfit before continuing with “ticks me off, but it’s nice”.

“Are you both even listening?” you muttered in annoyance before grabbing the small bag - that you kept from the time you went to your mother’s grave - in the pocket of your nylon cargo pants to place the drinks after you had got them from the dispenser since you didn't want to struggle to carry them.

Looking to his side, Fushiguro looked at his classmate as he began to analyse the situation that was currently going on. From what he could gather, Kugisaki was unarmed and didn’t have her usual hammer with her like she normally did meaning he was wanting to avoid any confrontation that could happen at this moment in time, while you were armed with your usual katana, yet he didn’t want to risk you revealing your true identity to the Kyoto students - not like he really had to worry about that.

‘Not forgiving people isn’t a bad thing. That’s just part of your kindness, isn’t it?’

That’s what his sister said to him once.

“I don’t have a particular preference, as long as she has unshakeable character, I won’t ask for more,” Fushiguro answered, to which you were surprised since you predicted that he wasn’t the type to reveal that sort of information. On the other hand, it seemed like Mai was pleased with the answer as she smiled sweetly at the boy causing you to shudder.

‘Ain’t...they like….family…?’

“Not a bad answer, if you had said something like ‘big boobs,’ I’d have killed you,” Kugisaki mentioned with a please expression on her face since she was relieved at the fact Fushiguro wasn’t suggestive like the Kyoto student in front of you three right now.

“Shut up,” Fushiguro muttered in an irritated tone.

However, it seemed like not everyone was pleased with his answer, as a tear was shed on a cheek.

“I knew it...You’re boring, Fushiguro,” Todo stated in a depressed manner before swiftly pushing himself to swing Fushiguro violently outside the hallway you were standing.

“DIDN’T I SAY NOT TO GET INTO FIGHTS, YOU DRAG?!” you screamed, as you turned your head to the direction where Fushiguro was struck away.

“FUSHIGURO!” Kugisaki panicked as she began to rush to his aid before a pair of arms was wrapped around her to halt her movement.

“Poor Fushiguro-kun, even a talented second-grade jujutsu sorcerer is nothing more than a first-year against the top-grade Todo-senpai, I’ll have to comfort him later,” Mai expressed with a sickly-sweet tone. However, you already had something to say.

“That may be true, but your Todo-senpai is nothing against a special-grade,” you mentioned with a smirk on your face, causing the female sorcerer to look towards you with widened eyes before suddenly remembering what Kugisaki called you by.

“Gojo…” Mai stuttered.

“Gojo, I’m okay! Just make sure Fushiguro is,” Kugisaki said to you with a proud smile on her face, causing you to drop the bag that you had in hand before quickly untying the red charm that was at the end of your katana.

‘I don’t need to unsheathe my katana, but I can’t use any of my curse spells to restrain him, so the chain will have to do’

“Hold this for me!” you shouted as you swiftly tossed the charm in her direction to which she caught easily since her arms still had movement before you rushed towards the scene where Fushiguro and Todo was.

‘This is such a drag right now…’ you thought, as you made it outside to find Fushiguro kneeling on the ground with a few new scratches on his face as well as his now stained blue track. However, it seemed as if Todo wasn’t done with his first attack since he was talking towards the Tokyo student like he was his prey.

On the other hand, you didn’t seem to care as you looked at him with an annoyed expression - even though you knew it wasn’t his fault. “Didn’t I say not to get into any fights? I can’t be bothered to use any reversed cursed techniques right now and I don’t want to bother Shoko-san since I need to train with her to know how to use it properly!” you raged, yet once again, it seemed like both of the male sorcerer’s weren’t listening to you.

“I knew at first glance that you were a boring guy, but you shouldn’t judge a person by their looks, right?” Todo questioned rhetorically again, causing the flames of rage to increase inside your soul since this situation was getting a little too similar to the one back at the detention centre.

“So I went out of my way to ask you, but you just trampled on my kindness,” Todo whined with a pout on his face while wiping the dripping tears that continued to fall.

“Is your brain as pineapple as your head?” Fushiguro insulted, as he gave the senior a weirded-out look.

“You’re the one to talk, hedgehog!” you screamed in annoyance since you were getting frustrated at the fact that no one was listening to you.

“I heard you don’t use cursed techniques.” Fushiguro randomly mentioned as he got up on his feet causing you to look at him with a death glare as well as suddenly being curious about what he meant by ‘don’t use cursed techniques’.

“Huh? Oh, that’s rumour’s false, I used them against the special-grade,” Todo plainly stated like it was an everyday face before raising his arm to wave his hand side to side as if to ‘slap’ away the rumours that were going on about him before continuing with, “but I heard rumours going around about a girl that went toe-to-toe with Sukuna, she was fighting with you right? Where is she?”

‘MAYBE THE GIRL THAT IS BEHIND YOU, SHOUTING AT YOU DRAGS!’

“That’s a relief to hear!” Fushiguro declared as if he was confident, causing you to look at him enraged with fury.

“THAT IS NOT A RELIEF TO HEAR, YOU DRAG!” you screamed, as you were now handing on an extremely thin piece of thread that was going to snap any second, leading you to attack both of them if this got out of hand.

However, once again, Fushiguro and Todo didn’t listen to you for one second as the shikigami sorcerer began to signal his shikigami to appear with the familiar hand-sign of ‘Nue’ back with you fought with him against Sukuna and ‘Gama’ from when you were training with him - yet, you were completely perplexed on what he had combined when both together.

Suddenly, a familiar shadow began to swiftly emerge from the ground before it suddenly took form into something you didn’t really expect from the Ten-Shadow Technique sorcerer.

“Frogs with wings?” you muttered, as you stared at the sight in complete surprise since you didn’t expect to see a few frogs with wings appearing in front of you - you never thought you see something like this in your life, to be honest.

“Bottomless Well!” Fushiguro chanted before a few of the frogs croaked in response causing you to stare that the creature in a now unreadable expression.

‘They will be weaker than their counterpart shikigami but they do have many benefits....didn’t Gojo-sensei mention something about the Kamo’s family?’

On the other hand, it seemed like your future opponent in the exchange event didn’t seem so nervous about the technique. Of course, from what you remembered from training as well as some knowledge that you had gained just from seeing one movement from Todo, you had come to the conclusion that he was a close-range fighter, probably had some experience with weapons since it would be foolish if a fighter didn’t have any sense it was a risk of them just having knowledge with their hands.

However, before you could even continue to gain more knowledge just by looking at the back of the well muscular sorcerer, there was a quick shift in the air causing you to snap out of your trance only to find Todo behind suddenly behind Fushiguro as he processed to wrap his arms around your classmate’s waist.

“Flimsy and shallow...Both your body and your taste in women!” Todo shouted before lifting Fushiguro upwards like he weighed nothing before aggressively smashing his headfirst into the ground behind him, causing you to discover how flexible the Kyoto student was before he suddenly jumped up into the air to give his opponent a punch, only for Fushiguro to dodge just in time, yet that didn’t seem to last since the second he moved away to gain some distance, he was violently smacked with a fist.

“Fushiguro!” you shouted, before quickly forcing the soles of your sheet to push your body forward to an extreme length, just in time to get in between both of the male sorcerers that were fully ignoring you since the moment you entered into the conversation to grab the drinks.

“Gojo!” Fushiguro yelled out in a panic since he was extremely worried that you were now taking a hit for him.

However, it seemed like Todo was now suddenly the one that was worried since his incoming punch seemed to hit something really small since it didn’t cover all his knuckles, yet it didn’t break like he thought it would, causing him to let the debris slowly clear away as his eyes began to notice the sight of a sleek black wooden scabbard standing vertically from the ground halting his extremely large fist, while you were kneeling down behind it, holding the handle with an extremely displeased look on your face with Fushiguro behind you as your other hand had a grip on the collar of his blue track jacket.

“You know Fushiguro, you are full of surprises but a complete drag when it comes to not listening to me,” you muttered, before slowly letting go of his collar as your turned your now free hand to face Kyoto Student in front of you, who was looking down at you with a shocked expression on his face.

“Todo Aoi right? You see, Gojo-sensei asked me to meet up with him and I don’t want a headache since I know he’s gonna give me one later, so I’ll see you later okay?” you sinisterly stated, before opening your palm to him as you slowly bend your middle finger towards you while placing your thumb on top of it, right on the nail.

“That looks like a nice construction sight,” you nonchalantly mentioned as you looked up at the wooden structure behind you before speedily flicking out your middle finger, causing Todo’s body to suddenly be pushed back with an extremely large force of cursed energy leading to the wooden panels to instantly break once his body made contact before you assumed his body landed on the wooden flooring that was above since you couldn’t see him anymore.

“Gojo…” Fushiguro muttered in shock as he didn’t expect something like that to happen before he noticed the same hand that flicked his opponent away was coming towards him with the same gesture. 

Flicking his forehead gently, you turned to look at him with a straight face before you used the same palm to let your cursed energy become slowly positive with some concentration to heal his wound that was on his head.

“It’s not much since I haven’t perfected it yet, but it will deal with the blood loss before you go to Shoko-san, you drag” you commented before sighing.

‘There was no need for me to remove the charm after all, but that’s enough for me to gain information for the event’

“Megumi! Y/N!” someone shouted, causing you both to look up only to find your second-year seniors Inumaki and Panda looking down below you to where you remembered flicking Todo towards, leading you to assume that they went to where there was the most ruckus was happening. However, next to Panda was Todo, who smirked down at the sight of both of you below.

“Fushiguro, let’s train our hardest okay?” you muttered, so only your classmate could hear, leading him to look at your with confused eyes before you turned to him with a smile, “you’re really strong, but I know you and Kugisaki can get stronger, so just follow me when I need you to okay?” you asked, before standing up on your feet once you managed to stop the blood loss from Fushiguro’s head.

“Panda-senpai! Inumaki-senpai! Can you take Fushiguro to Shoko-san, Gojo-sensei said he needs me for a discussion, I assume Maki-san is with Kugisaki!” you yell out.

“Salmon!” Inuamki shouted back before all of the three sorcerers were out of your sights, causing you to turn back to Fushiguro before giving your hand to him to help himself up.

‘Grade-one Todo Aoi and grade-three Zenin Mai ha?’

                                          ꕥ

“Ah Y/N, my daughter there you are!” Gojo cheered in delight once he saw you on the other side of the sliding door before you decided to step in since it was left open, to who you assumed was your adoptive dad that opened it earlier for his own reason.

“Excuse me,” you muttered before taking a quick glance around the room before noticing that there were only two more people with you and Gojo right now. From a side glance, you noticed a girl, probably the same age as you or maybe a year older at the latest, with long blue hair with a slightly slanted fridge wearing a suit that seemed to suit her really well even if her youthful and adorable face. 

‘A semi grade two? No..maybe three like Mai…’

However, as your eyes shifted to the sight on the opposite side where Gojo was seated, there was an old man seated while holding onto a wooden cane, who seemed to be somewhere in his late 80s but you wouldn’t tell since he seemed too hollow for you liking, yet something about him gave you an off-putting feeling.

“I wanted to tell you about the two special-grade curses that attacked me the other day,” Gojo happily mentioned with a smile on his face, causing you to look at him with a confused expression since he seemed too happy for someone that got attacked.

“Why do you look so happy? That should be the opposite reaction Gojo-sensei,” you remarked, as you made your way towards him only for his response to be a little pout.

“How many times do I have to tell you? You can call me your dad,” Gojo childishly whined.

“Never,” you shut down his offer as quickly as you could before uttering him to tell you about the special curses he wanted to inform you about, only for him to suddenly pull out a piece of paper with two childish drawings on them, causing you to look at the art in a fed-up manner before snatching it off his hand to get a closer look at the curses that he masterfully drew.

“As I said before, the two cursed spirits were capable of communication and they probably have allies who are just as strong,” Gojo declared in a serious manner, causing you to shiver at the 180-degree personality turn that he had done right in front of you. 

“It’s not just our enemies, either. Hakari, Okkotsu, your Todo and now my daughter Gojo. The level of our students has risen drastically in recent years, as well,” Gojo stated as he stared at the old man before he processed with, “then there was last year’s incident with Geto Suguru and now, the appearance of Sukuna’s vessel,”.

“What are you trying to say?” the old man asked, as he looked at your adoptive father with an expressionless look on his face (not that you could ever tell if there was any expression in the first place).

“Hehe, you don’t know? The wave of power you guys have been trying to hold back with your pointless status and traditions has grown bigger than you can handle and is now descending upon us. You won’t be able to measure the coming age with the classification of ‘special grade’ if you think I’m the only one who’ll be fighting back, you’re going to get hurt, old man,” Gojo declared with a smirk on his face as he felt the presence of the realisation that was coming to you now.

‘That man...was the reason why…..Itadori….’

“I think you are getting a bit out of line,” the old man lightly threatened in a lower tone as he glared at the sorcerer in front of him.

“I think it’s you that’s getting out of line,” you muttered in vexation as you glared down hostility at the man sitting on the opposite side of the table as the paper that you were holding began to crumble in your grasp. “If you get to kill someone by using me as a tool, let me return the favour next time with your head,” you threatened in a spiteful manner causing the old man to look at you with the same hollow eyes as he did with Gojo.

“Oh! Scary! Well, that's all I wanted to say, I’ll be going now with my daughter,” Gojo mentioned, as he got up from his seat before placing his hands on each of your upper arms to push you towards the direction of the door, before guiding himself through that gap that was left open.

“Oh, Principal Yaga will be coming in about two hours. Later!” Gojo departed cheekily, before closing the door as he then guided you away from the room the higher-up was in since he knew you were in a state of shock at the discovery you had made about your deceased classmate: Itadori Yuji.

‘Those higher-ups are so useless, all they do is command other sorcerers to do their dirty work while acting if they are superior dear. If I could, I would kill all of them’

‘Mother….’

© violettelueur 2021 : written and published by violettelueur - do not steal or repost

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk imagines #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #fushiguro megumi #kugisaki nobara #gojo satoru #zenin maki #inumaki to/ge #jujutsu kaisen panda #jjk panda #aoi todo #zenin mai #fushiguro megumi x reader #kugisaki nobara x reader #gojo satoru x reader #zenin maki x reader #inumaki to/ge x reader #fushiguro megumi imagines #kugisaki nobara imagines #gojo satoru imagines #zenin maki imagines #inumaki to/ge imagines

[joontopia]

Forget Me Not | KNJ Oneshot

pairing: kim namjoon x female reader

genre: smut, slight angst, dashes of fluff, basically porn with a dollop of plot

au: exes to lovers, valentine’s day

rating: explicit, nsfw, 18+

word count: 20.3K

warnings: slight angst, assumed cheating, cursing, alcohol consumption, dry humping, some heavy petting, heated make out sessions, daddy kink, slightly bratty reader, dom namjoon, pet names, dirty name calling, slight degradation, cocksleeve kink, use of sex toys (vibrator), unprotected sex, condom got lost in the mail, cumshot, creampie, oral sex (m & f), blowjob, throat fucking, fingering, squirting, pussy slapping, clit slapping, spit play, namjoon got a big ol’ cock, nipple biting, marking, biting, overstimulation, orgasm denial, orgasm control, multiple orgasms, wall sex, some gentle choking

banner made by: @kimtaehyunq​

a/n: My day for posting has finally come! This fic is twice as long as I thought it was going to be. Big, big hugs and smooches to Maggie and Tina for beta and editing this beast at the last minute for me. You two are a lifesaver and I love yall so much. And thank you again, Maggie, for recruiting me to be a part of this valentine’s day collab! I had such a great time!

Beta readers: @kimtaehyunq​ @escapingreality4now​

This is a part of the Be My Bangtanvine Collab - go check out the other fantastic writers and their stories!

“So what’s your name, anyway?” The once cute, bleach blonde male asks you as he leans in closer, his breath reeking of the IPA he is nursing. You lean away from him in your seat at the bar, rolling your eyes as you grab your drink. “What does it matter?” you say taking a big sip. “You’re not going to remember it anyways.”

“What makes you say that?” He slurs, leaning even closer to you. His eyes half closed from drunkenness and a lazy smile on his face. You push him away from you gently, a soft huff coming from his mouth as his back hits the bar.

“Because I’ve told it to you four times already?” Your tone doesn’t match the smile you give him as he lets out a laugh. You take another sip from your drink, your eyes roaming around the bar again looking for your best friend, Tina. She invited you out tonight, with the promise of some much needed girl time. Guilt tripped you with the fact that she hasn’t spent much time with you outside of work or your apartment after your breakup six months ago. You were four episodes deep into a new TV show when she came barreling through your door, taking full advantage of the spare key you had given her weeks earlier for ‘emergencies only.’ She dragged you off the couch, going on and on about how “Enough is enough. You need to get out and be around people. Not sitting here moping over some stupid guy.” 

Hauling you into your bedroom, she dolls you up in the black, sparkly bodycon dress you bought for your anniversary dinner with your ex but never got to wear. Promised that tonight was just going to be you two girls. No boys allowed. No worries of running into a certain someone because “it’s not like he ever had the time for things like this anyways.” It didn’t take long until she was whisked off to the dance floor by some silver-haired beautiful man with the plushest lips you have ever seen. You willingly let him sweep her away. You didn’t have the heart to say no, not with the absolute lovestruck look in Tina’s eyes. 

Unfortunately, it left you alone at a crowded bar top, susceptible to being bothered by drunken bar patrons looking for an easy score. You first didn’t mind when this one came up to you. He seemed charming, up until the point he was asking for your name thrice in five minutes. Your nose crinkles as he leans back in again, placing a hand on your shoulder to balance himself as he almost stumbles forward on to you. “Come on, tell me your name. I promise I’ll remember it this time.” 

Rolling your eyes, you finish your drink, readying yourself for the long back and forth once you tell him you’re not interested. You place your empty glass on the bar top and brush his hand off your shoulder. Your eyes widen as you see your drunk intruder start falling forward from his loss of balance, only then realizing you should’ve made sure you had supported his hand on something else. You brace for impact, eyes closing shut while your arms are out in front of you as you wait for him to come crashing down. Hoping you’d be able to push him off of you in time before he takes you crashing to the floor with him. But the body weight never comes, only replaced with a deep, honey rich voice that you haven’t heard in months causing your eyes to snap open. There the owner of the voice stood, his arm out in between you and your drunken company, pushing the latter back towards the bar top and away from you. “N-Namjoon?” you sputter, completely caught off guard to see your ex-boyfriend standing beside you.

“Excuse me, but I think it’s about time you left her alone,” Namjoon says, his eyes narrowing at the drunken gentleman as the sides of his mouth turn up into a tight, polite smile. He feels taller than what you remember, towering over the other bar patron by almost half a foot. 

The drunken man looks between you and Namjoon, puffing his chest as he crosses his arm, trying to make himself seem taller than he really is. “Chill, dude. We’re just talking, having a good time. What are you? Her boyfriend or something?”

You shift in your seat just slightly, Namjoon noticing out of the corner of his eye as he clears his throat, moving to place his hand on the back of your chair. “Or something…” he says, his cheeks rosy-ing just a bit as he side-eyes you again, waiting to see if you were going to interject. You stay quiet, looking at him with wide eyes as you’re still trying to process the fact that he’s here in this bar with you. What is he doing here?  

He takes your silence as permission to continue, turning his full attention back to the other man. “Thank you for keeping my friend company while I was away. Now if you excuse us, we’re going to try and enjoy the rest of our night.”

The drunken man hardens his gaze at Namjoon for a moment, slightly swaying back and forth and you wonder if he’s about to lose his balance again. He breathes out, rolling his eyes as he scoffs at Namjoon, turning to walk away from the bar. “Whatever man,” he mutters, walking away and disappearing into the crowd. 

“Everything okay, Joon?” The bartender asks, having walked up shortly after the drunken man took his leave. 

“Yeah, man. All cool. Can you get us another round?” The Bartender nods, turning to start a new round of drinks for the two of you. As soon as he walks away, Namjoon turns to you, his cheeks rosy-ing once again as he lifts one of his hands, scratching the back of his head. “Uh, hey Y/N. Interesting running in to you here.”

“What are you doing, Namjoon?” You feel your face warm up with annoyance. Never once in the year that you were together did he ever come out to a bar with you. Always too busy with work to make it out with you and your friends. But now here he is, in front of you being treated as if he’s come here his whole life.

He chuckles nervously, his feet shuffling just a bit as he clears his throat. “What do you mean?” His seemingly innocent question makes your annoyance and frustration grow even more, and you try hard to hold back the bite in your tone.

“What are you doing? Here, just now. You hate bars.”  

“I don’t hate bars. I just never had the time for them.” His voice trails off at the end, the ghost of arguments past flashing before his eyes.

You scoff at him, rolling your eyes as you cock your head to the side. “Oh, what? And you do now? Work finally not keeping you so busy anymore?” The resentment dripping from your tone makes Namjoon squirm just a bit in his spot. You’d feel good about it, knowing how uncomfortable he was feeling right now, if it wasn’t for the little fact that he just saved you from a potentially embarrassing incident. You briefly scold yourself, telling yourself to at least show him some level of gratitude before biting his head off again. 

“Sorry, that was rude--” You’re interrupted by the return of the bartender with your drinks, placing them on the bartop as Namjoon turns to grab them. You take the brief break in his attention as a chance to calm and compose yourself. Knowing his sudden appearance didn’t allow you to react the way you wanted to after seeing him again for the first time in months. You let out a sigh, letting your shoulders deflate just slightly, taking you out of your defensive mood. You allow yourself to take a better look at Namjoon, trailing your eyes from the floor up to his face. You can’t help but notice how good he looks. He looks like he just came from a work meeting, wearing dark grey slacks and a whilte long-sleeve button up. The form fitting sleeves rolled halfway up his arms, showing off the toneness of them. “Has he been working out?” you think to yourself. You look back up at his face, his dark brown hair pushed back out of it, giving you a nice view of his jawline as he’s turning back around from grabbing your drinks.

He holds out the drink to you, your eyes now on his hand as it’s holding the glass in front of you. The way his long fingers are wrapping around the glass stirs something inside your groin. Memories from long-heated nights of the two of you together coming forth in your mind. Memories of the very same hand creeping up your body and wrapping firmly around your -- “Y/N?”

Namjoon eyes you curiously, an eyebrow quickly shooting up as he looks at you and you hope he’s not able to easily read your face to know what you’re thinking about. “Jesus, Y/N. Calm yourself,” you think to yourself as you mentally facepalm.

You clear your throat, your cheeks warming as you grab the drink from his hand and take a sip. “Thanks,” you mutter, clearing your throat again as you regain your composure. “And thank you for a minute ago. I didn’t think I was ever going to get rid of that guy.” You both chuckle. Namjoon’s dimples poking out as he smiles, nodding his head as he murmurs a “you’re welcome.” Your eyes flicker to his cheeks, a ghost of a smile on your lips as you take in the sight of his adorable features. You feel a flutter in your stomach, realizing how much you missed just being able to look at him.

“So…” you start, pushing your hair behind your ear. “What are you doing here?” you ask him curiosity sinking back in as the possible reasons start popping up in your mind. Is it work related? Did he quit? Or get fired? Does he actually have time to go out now? Oh God, is he here to meet another girl?

“Actually, I’m kinda here because of work,” he says, taking a drink of his beer. 

“Of course he is,” you think, your eyes rolling involuntarily, causing Namjoon to jump quickly into further explanation. 

“I’m out with a few people from work,” he spits out quickly, a nervous chuckle slipping past his lips at the end. “A couple of the guys asked if I wanted to go out with them a couple of weeks back and I thought it would be a nice change. That’s actually one of them over there, dancing with your friend.” He nods towards the dance floor and you turn just in time to see the silver haired dreamboat locking lips with your best friend. You turn back towards Namjoon as he continues, “I knew you liked going to places like this. Just wanted to see what I was missing.” 

You hum in response, taking a sip from your drink as you look at him. He’s staring right at you, eyes meeting yours as they glint with a deeper meaning. Could it be that he’s been just as miserable these last few months as you? “And how has that been going?” you ask him.

“Turns out what I’ve been missing is you.” You smile wide at his words, cheeks warming up as you look away. He looks down as you both let out a little laugh. 

“Well,” you say as you cross your legs in your chair, your foot now grazing the inside of his thigh. “Here I am.”

Namjoon’s eyes flicker down to your foot, his eyes trailing up your leg and growing wide as if he’s finally taking in the form fitting dress that you’re wearing. “Here you are,” he says with a smirk. “You look amazing.”

You’re not sure how it happened exactly. The events leading up to right now, how you agreed to meet Namjoon for brunch the night after seeing him again for the first time. The multiple drinks and shots you took with him more than likely the sole perpetrator.

One minute you’re still at the bar, drinking and laughing with your ex-boyfriend. Catching up on the last few months spent apart. Next thing you know, you’re thrown up against the brick wall in the back alley behind the bar. Namjoon’s one hand on your ass as the other has both your wrists secured above your head. Your own legs wrapped tightly around his waist to help keep you from falling. The rough bricks scratch at your exposed skin, but you hardly notice, your attention stolen by Namjoon’s tongue down your throat. The definite bulge in his pants grinding against your core takes any feeling of discomfort away. You don’t remember how long you two were like that when Namjoon pulls his lips away from tours, allowing the two of you to catch a much needed breath.

After the burning in your lungs starts to subside, you lean in towards him, trying to capture his lips into another kiss, only for him to pull away again. A little pout forming on your face, causing him to chuckle. 

“Wait, wait,” he says, his chest still expanding rapidly from his heavy breaths.

“What’s wrong?” you ask as he lets go of your wrist, your hands dropping to his shoulders as he unwraps your legs from around him. Still holding on to you as he helps you balance yourself on the ground. 

“Nothing, uhh…” he murmurs, rubbing the back of his head as he looks away. “This, um, just wasn’t exactly the way I had planned for it to go.” He lets off a nervous chuckle as he looks back at you and you smile at him. “You see, I had this whole scenario planned in my head of what I would do if I saw you again.”

“And having me pinned up against a wall dry humping me wasn’t part of it, I’m guessing?” You cock a brow at him, smiling when you notice his cheeks growing scarlet. 

“No, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a nice surprise.” You both laugh as a cool breeze sweeps down the alleyway. You rub your arms, your body finally acknowledging the chilly temperature outside.

“I wanted to ask you out for coffee,” he says, his palms moving to rub your arms on instinct, trying to help keep you warm. “Wanted to get a chance to talk to you, ask for you to give me another chance.”

“Okay.”

He blinks at you, looking at you as if he was confused by your short answer before it hits him. “Okay?” he repeats, a smile growing on his face causing his dimples to reappear.

“To coffee,” you clarify. “There’s still a lot we need to talk about before I say yes to a second chance.”

And that’s how you found yourself here, walking into Namjoon’s favorite coffee place. The very one you avoided the last few months because you didn’t want to run into him. As you enter, you look around the cute little shop. Your face lights up with a smile when you see Namjoon already here, sitting in a corner booth with two cups of coffee on the table in front of him. As you approach, he looks over as if he sensed your presence, smiling as he stands up to greet you by giving you a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“I’m happy you’re here. Kinda was a little worried you’d change your mind,” he says, sitting down in the seat across from you.

“It crossed my mind.” Namjoon’s eyes grow wide and you giggle, letting him know it was just a joke. You grab the drink in front of you as Namjoon smiles shyly.

“Two scoops of sugar, a pump of caramel and toffee nut flavoring with creamer on the side, right?” He asks, the question rhetorical, as he pushes a few cups of creamer towards you.

“You remembered,” you whisper, smiling as you stirred in some creamer to your coffee. He smiles, taking a sip of his own Iced Americano. You both sit there for a few minutes, neither one of you talking. The silence being broken by the waitress coming over to take your food order. Namjoon, once again remembering your usual order and you smile wide, saying a thanks as the waitress walks away.

“I’ve missed you, Y/N. I’ve missed this,” he says suddenly, catching you slightly off guard. You knew this was why you were both here, but you didn’t expect him to start the conversation so suddenly. “I really want to get back together.”

You let you a soft sigh, pushing a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. “I don’t know, Joonie.”

“Why not?” he asks softly, eyeing you intently as he gives you his full attention.

“We broke up for a reason, Joon,” you say as you look up to meet his eye. You see the adoration and the deep determination in his gaze. His deep, chestnut eyes pull you in as you get lost in them, almost making you forget the reasons why you broke up. Almost. 

You look away, the memory of your break up resurfacing. Your mind starts to wander to that early fall evening. Namjoon showing up to your apartment late from work. Too late for the dinner reservations you had made for your one year anniversary. You were already out of your dress, lying in bed in your pajamas when he came knocking on your front door. You had let him in, not wanting your neighbors to hear the argument that was sure to come. And came it did.

You had said something about being tired of coming second to everything with him. How he spent more time with work and not with you. Always going in early and staying late, never making time for you unless it was for sex. He countered with how important his work was to him, how you said you admire that about him when you first got together. How he was doing this to secure his future, a future that he saw with you. This was his passion, and he didn’t get how you couldn’t understand that. He didn’t get what the big deal was that night, simply forgetting what day it was. Told you that if it was that serious to you, if you really couldn’t put up with his shit anymore, to just break up with him.

So you did. The moment the words fell from your mouth, so did the tears. Namjoon just stood there in the middle of your living room staring at you. Tears still falling harder from your eyes as he turned, snatching his work bag from the floor and walking back out of your apartment, slamming the door behind him. No rebuttal, no attempt to fight for you back. He just left. No communication or to be seen again until last night.

“I know,” he says, his voice bringing you back to the present. ”I had a lot that I needed to work on. I neglected you, put more effort in my job than our relationship and I know it took a toll that night. I took you for granted.”

‘It wasn’t just that… That night was our --” you start softly before he interrupts you.

“Our one year anniversary, I know.” He lets out a huff and he rubs his face with his hands. You look up at him, blinking owlishly. “God, I’m such an idiot. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I realized it the moment I left and I should’ve turned back around. I should’ve fought harder to keep you.”

“You didn’t fight at all,” you state meekly, your tone just above a whisper. Namjoon looks down at the table softly nodding his head.

“I was an idiot. And too stubborn to know what I had.” You both sit there for a minute, staring at your own coffee drinks, not saying a word. You went over his words, happy to hear him admit the things he faulted in your relationship. A little flower of hope blossoming in your heart that just maybe you two could work things out.

“Why now?” you ask, breaking the silence. “What made you want to try again?”

“You remember the producer position at work that I wanted?” He looks up at you. You nod your head, remembering how he used to talk so passionately about that being his dream job. “Well, one of the producers left, allowing for a position to come available. I got it.” 

A huge smile grows on your face as you reach and grab his hand, not even realizing you had done it. “Congratulations, Joonie! That’s so awesome!” 

He smiles back at you, covering your hand with his other as he looks down where they are joined. “Thank you,” he says with a smile. “It was a bittersweet moment when I had gotten the news. Of course, I was happy when I got it, but I had no one to celebrate with. And the only person I wanted there was you.”

You feel your heart swell, your smile only growing bigger as you look at him. He gives your hand a squeeze, smiling back at you before continuing, “I realized that if I wanted you back, I was going to have to change. I want to be better for you.”

“It wasn’t just you who needed to change, Joonie.” You give his hands a squeeze back as he looks back up at you, his brow furrowing in confusion. “I could’ve been more understanding. Maybe we can work on it together.”

His eyes light up, growing wide for just a second as he sits up in his chair, leaning forward into the table towards you. “Yeah?” he asks, his tone dripping with hope and enthusiasm.

You giggle, smiling at his reaction. “Yeah. Let’s give it another shot.”

You spent the rest of the brunch date eating your own meals and talking. Outlining the issues you two needed to work on, setting rules and guidelines for trying again. The conversation carries over and continuing on your walk home Namjoon joins you on. Namjoon promises to make more time for you, you promise to be patient and a little more understanding. You also set the rule of no sex, at least until you both are confident that you two can make this work. The moment you state the rule, Namjoon lets out a whine, causing a giggle to escape your lips from his cute reaction.

“No sex?!” he exclaims, as you enter the door to your apartment complex causing an older couple to turn and give you two a scolding glare. “Not even fooling around?”

“No sex,” you say after shooshing him, giggling again as the older couple walk into their apartment. “Kissing is fine, but no sex. Not even fooling around.” 

“But if I recall, sex was never part of our problems.” Namjoon wiggles his eyebrows at you, leaning up against the wall as you make it to your front door.

“Namjoon!” You slap his arm, playfully glaring at him and scolding him as you dig for your keys out of your purse. 

“I’m just kidding! Kind off...:” he says, winking at you as you unlock your door. “Fine, no sex. I can do that. It’s worth it to prove to you that I’ve changed.” You flick on the lights to your apartment, placing your purse on the side table by the door as you turn to look back at Namjoon. He’s now standing in your doorway, leaning up on the door frame as he looks down at you, smiling. “So I guess I’ll call you later then.”

You give him a nod, once again finding yourself mesmerized by his presence and unable to speak. You never thought you’d be here with him again, having him drop you off at your doorstep after a date. He leans in towards you, his hand rising to cup your face as his lips meet yours for a soft kiss. Your body is electrified with the feel of his lips on yours and you feel yourself melt into his touch. He deepens the kiss just briefly before pulling away. You fall forward slightly, your lips still puckered as the chase after his, wanting more. Namjoon smiles, a knowing look in his eye as he walks backward away from you. “I’ll see you later, baby.” He doesn’t even wait for your response as he turns around, walking back down the hall and out into the street.

“Tease…” you mutter as you close the door behind you. Your fingers brushing your lips slightly as you smile, still feeling the softness of his lips on yours.

“You agreed to WHAT now?” Tina shouts as she follows you into the breakroom at work.  Eyes wide as she watches you pour yourself a cup of coffee before the Monday morning staff meeting, having just finished going over your weekend events after she had left you alone at the bar. “Are you out of your mind? Why would you agree to a second chance with him?” she asks, her loud tone causing passing coworkers to peak into the break room as they pass by.

“Can you chill out?” You say to her, walking past her and back out to the hallway. She follows you, walking side by side as you both make your way to the conference room. “He’s changed, Tina. He’s recognized the areas that he needs to work on and has promised to do so, together. Why shouldn’t I give him another chance?” 

You enter the conference room, finding two empty seats at the large oval table adjacent to each other and you both sit down. One by one, your fellow co-workers file in, filling up the table. “Fine,” Tina huffs, rolling her eyes as she leans back into her seat. “But I’m watching him. I won’t say I told you so, but I will be the first one to kick his ass if he breaks your heart again.” 

You give her a smile, taking a sip of your coffee as you wait for the meeting to get started, jumping just a bit when Tina sits up quickly and grabs your arm, smiling when she turns to you. “Oh! Remind me to fill you in on my weekend with Jimin. Over lunch. My treat.”

You snicker at her, wiping the little droplets of your coffee that fell on the table. “You owe me lunch for abandoning me on our girls night anyways. But not today. Namjoon is taking me to a cute little sushi spot near his office.”

“Wow, look at Mr. Work-a-holic finally taking a break from busy, busy schedule,” she mutters under her breath, followed up by a soft “Ow” from the light kick you give her under the table. 

“He’s trying, Tina,” you whisper to her as your boss walks in, seating himself at the head of the table and kicks off the meeting.

“Right, okay, sorry. I’ll give him another chance too.”

Lunch time sneaks up on you, too busy being nose deep into an article for the magazine you work for, putting in the finishing touches before sending it to your editors to get ready for the February Issue. Your phone buzzing on your desk alerts you to the time of day. You check it to find a text from Namjoon, announcing his arrival at the front of your office building. 12:30 PM on the dot. You lock your work laptop, waving bye to Tina as you place your phone into your purse and head to the elevator bay. Once down in the lobby you quickly walk outside, spotting Namjoon leaning up against a taxi waiting for you. You wrap your arms around his neck, greeting him with a kiss before he opens the car door for you, following you into the back of the cab.

The little sushi place he takes you to is delicious. Being your first time there, Namjoon orders a whole spread. Each roll consists of something you like, from tempura shrimp to avocado in the middle. Some rolls topped with eel. You eat your fill, feeling satisfyingly full once the two of you are walking out of the little restaurant. 

“What time do you need to be back?” Namjoon asks you, taking your hand into his as you walk down the street.

“Maybe not for another hour? I’m already done with my article, so I’m in no rush to need to get back.” You walk alongside him with a smile on your face, the feel of his hand in yours bringing you a comfort you haven’t felt in a long time.

“Would you want to stop by the studio with me then? I got something I want to show you.” You smile at him, nodding your head as he smiles back, quickening his steps as he pulls you toward his office building. 

Arriving at Namjoon’s work, you were excited to finally step into the world that had preoccupied so much of his time when you were together. You had been here multiple times in the year you were with him, coming here to drop off food for your overworking boyfriend. Never making it past the lobby desk until now. You follow him through the lobby, past the front desk and towards the elevator. You turn towards the long hallway you remember he would appear from during your prior visits when he instead guides you to the elevators, hopping on to an open cab and pressing the button for the 5th floor.

You pull your phone out of your purse, sending Tina a quick text saying that you might be late coming back to the office. After a few exchanges of where you were, she asks you to say hi to Jimin for her before you slip your phone back into your purse and turn towards Namjoon. “Since when did you move off the first floor?” You ask as the elevator continues to move upwards.

He smiles at you, a glint of excitement in his eye as the cab stops, the doors opening to the new floor. He leads you out of the elevator, his hand pushing gently on the small of your back. “That’s what I want to show you. Remember that promotion? It comes with some new perks.” He continues to lead you down the hallway and you look around, taking in the new scenery as Namjoon stops you in front of a closed door.

“Y/N!” You hear your name being called from the other end of the hall. You turn to look at the newcomer, a dark haired man jogging down the hall with his arms open towards you and Namjoon. His wide, heart shaped smile bringing an equally wide one to your face. 

“Hobi!” You giggle as he wraps you in a big bear hug, picking you up off the ground and spinning you around.

“It’s good to see you again,” you say as he steadies you back on the ground.

“Likewise! It's nice to see you and Joon together again. He’s been a real stick in the mud while you guys were apart.”

You let out another giggle as Namjoon glares at his co-worker, opening the door and guiding you in. “Thank you for that, Hoseok,” he mutters, following the two of you into the room.

You take a look around the room, various recording equipment litters the room. There’s a lone couch against the wall opposite a large desk fitted with mixing equipment and a computer. You watch as Hobi plops down on it, pulling out his phone as you continue to observe the room.  A guy around your age with mint colored hair sits in front of the computer and mixing equipment, headphones on as he’s bopping his head up and down to whatever is playing. You see the ‘Recording in progress’ sign lit up and realize he’s in the middle of recording someone. Namjoon closes the door behind him, walking over to pat the mint haired man on the back. The mint haired man looks up, his features growing into a gummy smile as he looks at Namjoon, taking his headphones off his head and pressing a button on the switchboard in front of him. 

“Ah, Joon. Just in time. Jimin’s finishing up one of his tracks for his debut,” the mint haired man says, standing to give Namjoon a quick hug before pressing another button on the switchboard and speaking into a mic, “Jimin, come on out.”

“Jimin’s in there?” You ask without thinking. Realizing you have yet to officially meet the man that swept your best friend away on your girl’s night out. The mint haired man and Namjoon look over at you and you realize you interrupted their conversation, causing your cheeks to flush slightly.

“Yeah, he is,” the mint haired man says to you. “Big fan?”

Hobi snorts from the couch, “Watch out, Joon. Might have some competition.”

You smile while you shake your head. “No, um, he’s kind of dating my best friend.” You watch as his eyebrows shoot up, nodding his head as Namjoon places his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Let me not be rude,” Namjoon says as he gestures between you two. “Yoongi, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Yoongi. My coworker and fellow producer.” 

Yoongi reaches out to shake your hand, giving you another gummy smile as he addresses you. “Nice to meet you, so you’re the girl Namjoon has been lovesick about. Heard all about you. Nice to finally put a face to a name.” He gives Namjoon a nudge with his shoulder, the both of you looking at each other with matching cheeks as a door on the other side of the room opens up. A familiar silver haired man walking out, his unforgettably plush lips spread wide into a smile.

“Sup guys. Ah, Y/N. Good to finally meet you,” he says, walking over to you and giving you a hug. It catches you by surprise for a minute before you return it. Jimin breaks away from you at the sound of Namjoon clearing his throat, giving you a wink as he moves to sit by Hoseok on the couch.

“Anyways,” Namjoon says as he walks over to you, throwing his arm around your shoulders. “I just wanted to introduce you guys before I showed her my office.”

“You have an office now --” 

“Oh, Joojoo, I thought I heard you in here.” You were cut off by a tall, petite girl who just entered the room. The pencil skirt and blouse she was wearing a little too short and form fitting to be considered professional. You look at her, noticing how pretty she was and the way she was looking at Namjoon, all wide eyed and dreamy. You instantly become annoyed, too focused on the awful nickname she just used to notice the brief look of distaste on Namjoon’s face at the sound of it. You instinctively lean more into Namjoon, crossing your arms as the new girl continues to talk, barely aware of your presence. “Joojoo, I need help getting something down from the supply closet. Can you help me?” She coos while batting her eyelashes. Her eyes move from his face to the arm around your shoulder, clicking her tongue against her teeth as she looks you up and down. “Whose this?”

“Oh, Areum. This is Joon’s girl, Y/N. Y/N, this is our floor assistant, Areum,” Hobi jumps in, quick to the introductions with a mischievous smirk on his lips.

Areum looks at you, eyebrow raised in confusion. “Y/N. Like, your ex-girlfriend, Y/N?”

“We’re working things out,” you snap, wrapping one of your arms around Namjoon’s waist as he looks down at you, raising an eyebrow of his own. A ghost of a smirk hiding in the corner of his lips. 

“Whatever,” the girl mutters before turning to Namjoon again, an annoyingly bright smile adorning her face. “Joojoo, could you help me?”

“I got it!” Yoongi shouts, already moving past the group of you and out the door. Areum lets out a soft “Oh” as she turns to follow, briefly looking back at you and Namjoon before exiting the room.

Your lips twitch up in a smirk as you turn to look up at Namjoon. “So, what’s this office you were talking about?” 

“Yeah, Joon. Why don’t you show Y/N your office,” Hobi teases as he gets up from the couch, following after Yoongi and the office assistant. Namjoon sputters and you let out a giggle, grabbing his hand and walking out of the recording room. 

Namjoon regains his composure, leading you back down the hallway, Jimin following closely behind, taking the chance to strike up conversation. “So what do you guys say to a double date this weekend? Give us a chance to get to know each other and have some fun. Tina talks very highly about you, Y/N.”

“That sounds great. What do you think, Joonie?” You ask just as Namjoon stops in front of another door, digging a set of keys out of his pocket and unlocking it. 

“Yeah, that sounds great,” he says, flicking on the lights to his office. The three of you barely enter into the little space when Hoseok shows up at the door, looking straight at Namjoon.

“Hey Joon, looks like we need your help after all. Yoongi severely underestimated how high up this box was.” Hobi lets out a laugh as he walks back down the hallway. Namjoon turns to you, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead as he tells you he’ll be right back before slipping out the door way. 

You let out a little huff as soon as he’s out of sight. “Has she ever heard of a step ladder,” you mutter under your breath as you take a look around Namjoons office, his ever growing Kaws figurine collection decorating the shelves on his walls. 

You hear Jimin snicker and you jump just a bit as you had forgotten he was there. “We have a step ladder, actually. Areum, tends to misplace it a lot,” he says, air quoting around the words misplace it as he rolls his eyes. “She has the biggest crush on Namjoon. Tends to always need something from the top shelves just to have an excuse to talk to him.”

Your face contorts into a scowl, causing Jimin to laugh and throw his hands up in defense. “Don’t worry. Namjoon barely even notices. He’s always been wrapped up in his work. Or talking about you. Yoongi, however… Well, he has it bad.”

You nod a little, taking comfort in Jimin’s reassurance. He gives you a small wave bye as he leaves you alone in Namjoon’s office. You sit down in the empty desk chair, noticing a picture frame by his laptop. You pick it up, recognizing the picture to be one of your favorites of you and Namjoon. A cute selfie you took in the comfort of his apartment a few months into you two dating. You place it back on the desk, humming gently in content as you push the brief incident with the office assistant to the back of your mind. Reminding yourself that you promised to be understanding and you try not to dwell on if there was anything there that you would need to worry about.

Your first week back with Namjoon was nothing short of amazing. You were amazed and surprised by how attentive he is to you, fully prepared to expect him to still be busy with work, especially with a recent promotion. But, alas, he is keeping true to his promise so far. The two of you spent more time together in the past week than you did in the last few months you were together. The both of you have been making great progress with the things you both promised to work on. Holding true to the rules and guidelines, you had set out, the no sex rule included.

You’d be lying if you said it hasn’t been hard to not break that rule. Namjoon being right when he said that sex was never a problem between the two of you. It didn’t help that the both of you gained pure enjoyment out of teasing the hell out of each other. Between the gentle brushes of his hand across your ass or the strategic placement of your hand on his thigh when you’re sitting next to him, it is easy to get one another flustered. It is equally just as hard to keep each other’s hormones at bay. 

No other time have you two come close to breaking that rule than you have tonight. Laid out on your back on your living room couch, Namjoon on top of you. The both of you in the middle of a heated makeout session. His hand up your shirt while yours is on his ass, pushing him closer into you as he grinds his clothed bulge into your core. You know you should stop. No fooling around being part of the rules you both had set, but it all just feels too damn good to stop. Your living room is filled with the soft sounds of your shared moans, the movie Namjoon brought over for your night in playing softly but forgotten in the background. You both had opted for a night in instead of going out to dinner. Your planned double date on Saturday and the fact that you had to work late helping your fellow writers finish their articles playing a big part in the decision making. Namjoon had picked up takeout and a movie for the two of you, waiting at your apartment for you to get home to spend as much time as possible with you tonight before he would have to leave to go to sleep. 

What started out as an innocent foot rub after your dinner has speedily turned into a tickle fight. That very tickle fight quickly escalated to the situation you find yourself in now; Namjoon’s tongue wrestling with yours as he cups your breast with his hand, finding your nipple hidden by your bra and giving it a quick pinch. You let out a muffled moan, one he quickly swallows with his lips still on yours. You slide your other hand down, reaching in between you two to grab a hold of the button on his jeans. You almost have it undone when Namjoon suddenly pulls away from you, grabbing your wrist as he breathlessly asks you to hold on. He pulls his hand from out under your shirt and lets go of your wrist as he sits back on the couch, running his hand through his disheveled hair to try and put some of it back in place.

“We should probably chill out a bit. Don’t want to get too ahead of ourselves,” he says, scooting just a bit away from you to give you room to sit up on your side of the couch. You stay as you are, looking at him with a pout on your lips as he chuckles at you. “Besides, I probably should head out soon. Need to run into the office tomorrow before our date.”

He stands from the couch, holding his hand out to help you up and you take it, wrapping your arms around his neck as you stand up in front of him. “Why don’t you just spend the night? Leave for work from here in the morning?” you ask in between kisses. He chuckles at you again, grabbing your hands from around his neck and walking you to the door. 

“And break the rules you clearly set out for us? I would never,” he teases you, laughing at you as you let out a whine. “I’ll see you tomorrow baby. I’ll let you know when I get home,” he reassures you as he slips his shoes on and opens your front door. He turns back to you, slinking an arm around your waist to catch your lips in a deep kiss as he pulls you towards him. He releases your lips, leaving you breathless once again as he rubs the tip of his nose against yours. “And we’ll continue this later.” He smiles at you, giving you a wink and another quick kiss before releasing you completely and closing the door behind him. 

You let out a little huff. “Tease…” you mutter as you smile, shaking your head as you lock up the door before turning back towards your living room, getting ready to clean up and go to bed.

The double date with Jimin and Tina went better than you expected. The whole mini argument you had with Tina in her apartment as the two of you got ready proving to be inane. Her plans of giving Namjoon the third degree to check to see if he’s really changed never came to fruition, much to your relief. The moment the two boys arrived at her doorstep to pick the both of you up, all thoughts of interrogation were forgotten, her attention solely on Jimin and Jimin alone.

The steakhouse you attend for dinner is delicious. The drinks you all share help keep the conversation light and entertaining. You are happy with the way work has stayed away as a topic for the evening. The only exception was the mention of Hoseok’s mixtape release party that is taking place the following Wednesday. When leaving the restaurant, talks about needing to do this again came up. You mention a new Italian restaurant that just opened up down the street that you all should try next, if you guys were ever lucky enough to get a hard to book reservation. 

Namjoon holds your hand the entire cab ride back to your apartment. Not much conversation taking place due to the numerous glasses of wine at dinner making you feel warm and sleepy while leaning up against him. You nearly doze off before you make it to your apartment, Namjoon nudging your shoulder slightly to let you know of your arrival. He’s still holding your hand as he walks you to your door, making sure you were safely inside before letting go. He stands in your doorway, smiling at you as you brace yourself against the wall to balance as you take off your heels.

“What are you smiling about?” You tease him, crossing your arms as you walk back towards him after removing your footwear.

“I’m just happy to be doing this with you again. Walking you home, making sure you get here safe.” You can’t help the smile that graces your face from his confession, leaning up on to your tiptoes to place a quick kiss on his lips.

“So,” he starts, still smiling at you as he hovers over you in your door frame. “Hobi’s release party is this Wednesday.”

“So I heard,” you cooed, your heart warming at the flash of his dimples from his smiling growing wider from your teasing.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go with me,” he asks you, pausing momentarily before continuing, “As my date.”

You smile wider, leaning up to give him another kiss. “I thought you’d never ask.”

The next few days flew by in a breeze. You weren’t able to see much of Namjoon other than lunch breaks or a quick dinner date as he was helping Hobi and the company prepare for the release party. You and Tina spent your free evenings shopping for the perfect dresses. Finding two cute matching bodycons with keyhole cut outs and heels to match. Wednesday evening comes before you know it. Namjoon had ordered a car to pick you and Tina up, him needing to be at the venue early to help get everything set up. Not wanting you to feel rushed, he arranges for your transportation to drop you off right at the venue doors, allowing you and Tina to enjoy a full red carpet experience for the release party.

The party venue is located at one of the nicest hotels in town, taking place in one of the ballrooms fitted with a DJ booth, a mini dance floor, and a well stocked open bar. Namjoon is there to greet you at the door, catching the eye of every woman (and man) walking by him with the way he’s fitted in his well-tailored suit. His hair is pushed back, styled out of his face. You can’t help the smile that grows on your face as you look him up and down, walking towards him. Knowing that this beautiful man is all yours. The moment he notices you walking towards the ballroom, his smile matches yours, if not, brighter. His mindset also matches yours as he shamelessly looks you up and down as you grow closer.

“Hey Handsome,” you say to him, throwing your arm around his neck as you give him a kiss.

“Good evening, baby. You’re looking exceptionally beautiful tonight.” He kisses you back, slipping his hand around your waist. 

“How nice of you to say, Joonie. I didn’t think you noticed,” Tina teases from beside you. Namjoon rolls his eyes, giving you another kiss before taking your hand in his. 

“You look exceptionally beautiful as well, Tina,” he says, gesturing his hand towards the inside of the ballroom. Tina gives him a thank you before winking at you and walking forwards into the ballroom, now on a mission to find Jimin. You giggle, following behind her and Namjoon as he leads you toward the bar.

After grabbing a round of drinks, Namjoon walks you and Tina over to your reserved table for the evening. Jimin is already sitting down, snacking on a small plate full of the various finger foods being served around the event. You barely sit down yourself when the petite office assistant, Areum, pops up out of nowhere, instantly clinging herself onto Namjoon’s arm. The dress she’s wearing contains too many cut outs and too much sheer covering to your liking, the lack of actual fabric barely classifying it as a dress instead of lingerie. Her heels, too tall to be considered comfortable to walk in, let alone stand in, you know we’re chosen to accentuate her barely covered (and annoyingly perky) ass. She doesn’t pay you or anyone other table occupant any mind, her focus only on Namjoon, much to your annoyance. Batting her eyelashes, she addresses Namjoon, her tone too high pitched to be tolerable, making the use of her god awful nickname for Namjoon sound even worse. “Joojoo, the DJ is having issues with connecting his equipment. Can you help us?”

He sighs, giving her a polite smile as he responds, “Sure.” She let’s go of his arm and you swear she gives you a smirk before turning and running off. You glare at her retreating backside. An involuntary scoff escaping past your lips. Namjoon hears it, turning to you with a questioning brow raised in your direction. A smirk, once again, dancing on the corner of his lips. 

“You okay, baby?” He asks, trying to hide the smile threatening to break out on his face, always finding it cute when you show little signs of jealousy. 

“Nothing, she’s just very… touchy.” You take a sip of your champagne, trying to wash away the bitterness in your mouth. Namjoon chuckles at you as he leans down to hover over you, one hand braced on the table and the other on the back of your chair to steady himself.

“She’s just friendly, baby,” he says, leaning in closer to rub his nose on the tip of yours. 

“Yeah, to you,” you mumble, Namjoon’s shit-eating grin finally breaking loose on his face as he laughs. 

“You’re cute,” he says, placing a kiss on your forehead. “You got nothing to worry about, baby. I only have eyes for you.” He gives you a long, soft kiss on your lips before standing back up. Telling you he’ll be right back, he disappears into the growing crowd toward what you assume is the direction of the DJ booth. 

Feeling eyes on you, you look to your left to see Tina observing you, a mischievous smirk on her lips as she meets your gaze. You let out a sigh, jumping to a defensive tone as you try and predict what she’s thinking. “It’s a work party, Tina. It’s expected that he’s going to have to do some work.” 

She shakes her head slowly at you as she leans forward, placing her elbow on the table and propping her hand under her chin. “Oh no, I’m wondering when you’re going to put that in its place.” Her reference is vague, but you know exactly what, or rather who, she’s talking about. 

“I’m not. I don’t need to. Joonie says there’s nothing to worry about so there’s nothing to worry about,” you state matter-of-factly. Hoping your tone sounds convincing enough to end her “hoe-be-gone” plotting before it starts. You just don’t know who you were trying to convince more: Tina or You. 

“If you say so,” Tina sing-songs, leaning back into her seat and into Jimin. Jimin gives her a quick peck on her temple and smiles at her. 

“You little instigator,” you hear Jimin whisper to her before catching her lips in a real kiss. You roll your eyes slightly, smiling softly as you scan the now crowded ballroom, trying to spot Namjoon amongst the sea of people. 

You contemplate for a minute on whether you should actually say something to Areum. You know you’ll be able to control yourself and your tone. Know you’ll be able to conduct yourself as polite, but firm. She just seems like the type to you that would cause a scene when she doesn’t get her way and you don’t want to be involved in anything that might ruin Hobi’s special night. Besides, you promised to be more understanding and trusting Namjoon on this falls under that umbrella. So you take another sip of your drink, swallowing down the sweet tasting liquid, hoping the bitter taste of your growing anxiety goes down with it.

The rest of the night followed the common theme of Namjoon being swept away by various staff members seeking his help. It never failed that once he found his way back to you, someone else was there a few minutes later to take him again. He apologizes to you every time, his kisses growing harder and deeper with each departure. You reassure him each time that it is fine, and really it is. You are enjoying yourself, spending the majority of the night with Jimin, Tina, and various alcoholic drinks. Near the end of the night, Namjoon was finally able to spend a little more time with you. Grabbing you from your reserved table and walking you over to meet his boss and to say bye to Hoseok before you leave. 

As you approach the two gentlemen, Hobi’s eyes light up the moment he sees you. 

The second you reach him, he’s wrapping his arms around you in a big hug, placing a quick peck on your cheek. His heart shaped smile on full display as he addresses you, the scent of alcohol heavy on his breath as he talks. “Y/N! Thank you for coming tonight. What would I do without my favorite fan?” he slurs, his rosy cheeks pushing into his eyes as he continues to smile at you.

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, Hobi,” you coo, giggling as you back out of his hug. As you stand back in your place next to Namjoon, you turn to the other man, Hobi and Namjoon’s boss, and introduce yourself. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N,” he says. “Sorry, I’ve been pulling your boyfriend away from you most of the night.”

“He’s no--” you start before quickly redirecting your response. You feel Namjoon’s shoulders deflate just slightly beside you and you feel a twinge of guilt. He isn’t your boyfriend. Not yet, at least. But isn’t that exactly what you two are working back towards? “It’s okay,” you start again. “He’s been a hot commodity tonight and a hard worker. I wouldn’t want him any other way.”

Namjoon looks at you, a quick ‘blink-and-you'll-miss-it’ flash of surprise colors his features before the corners of his lips turn upwards into a smile.

“A hard worker he most certainly is. I’m going to have to also apologize in advance for the next week. We’re in the finishing stages of our next trainee’s debut and going to need all hands on deck for it.” The boss gives you a big smile, probably thinking it would lessen the blow of his news.

“Yeah, Jimin’s debut is next!” Hobi chimes in, his voice carrying a little too loud due to his intoxicated state.

“That’s right,” their boss confirms. “I promise to try and have him free by Valentine’s day.” The boss lets out a hearty laugh, slapping Namjoon on the shoulder before walking away. Excusing himself to thank the other guest for coming to the event.

“Valentine’s day…” you hear Namjoon mutter softly. You turn to look up at him, noticing his wide-eyed look as he stares into space. You grab his arm, looping your hand around it and lightly squeezing, bringing him back out of his head. His eyes focusing on you.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’ve been busy and I forgot it was coming up, too. We got a week, we’ll figure something out,” you try to reassure him, forming a soft smile on his face to try and show that it was really okay. 

“Yeah,” Namjoon responds, his tone apprehensive as he rubs the back of his neck. Taking in his demeanor, the little seed of worry from earlier starts to blossom slowly in your mind. You open your mouth to say something, ask him if he’s okay when the call of your name breaks interrupts you. Looking behind you, you see Tina approaching you and Namjoon.

“Hey, you ready to go? Jimin had our car pulled around up front for us,” she asks, stifling a yawn behind her hand.

“Yeah, sure,” you say slowly, turning your head to look back at Namjoon. The unspoken question on whether you guys need to talk lingering between you. It goes unanswered and any signs of apprehension or anxiety are gone from his face. His prize-winning, charming smile is the only thing you see.

“Go ahead. I have to stay and help clean up anyways. I’ll call you later, yeah?” He gives you a quick kiss, waving bye to Tina as he walks away, disappearing into the thinning crowd. 

His departure doesn’t sit right with you. Something about his behavior seems off and it only adds to your growing anxiety, much to your annoyance. You try to shake it off, following Tina out of the ballroom and into the lobby. Stopping abruptly, you realize you’ve forgotten something, calling out to Tina as you turn back towards the ballroom. “Hey, I forgot my phone and purse on the table. I’ll meet you in the car.”

Running back in to grab your purse, you notice Namjoon standing over by the bar talking to an older gentleman. You take a step towards him, planning to ask him if everything was okay before heading back to the car, only to stop once the older man steps to the side out of the way of a server. Revealing the annoying little office assistant clinging to Namjoon’s arm. You freeze, watching as Namjoon shakes the older gentleman’s hand before the same man places a kiss on top of the little leech’s head and takes his departure from the group. Namjoon, smiles down at Areum, his dimples adorning his cheeks and you immediately feel sick. You turn around, walking swiftly out of the hotel before they’re able to see you, reaching the car and hopping quickly into the seat next to Tina. She glances over at you curiously before looking back at her phone. “Everything okay?” she asks you as she begins typing away, probably sending a text to Jimin.

“Yeah,” you reply. “Just… I thought it was about to rain.” You give her a forced chuckle, hoping she doesn’t sense the lie in your tone. She hums in response. The car starts to pull off into traffic. You turn, looking back at the hotel as it fades into the distance. Hoping fiercely that what you think you saw and what was actually going on is just a big misunderstanding.

You barely hear from Namjoon the rest of the week. The weekend being no different. The “all hands on deck” call to finish up Jimin’s mixtape for his debut is the only explanation you receive from Namjoon to excuse his absence. Majority of your communication is exchanged over text messages, but even those were slowly growing few and far in between. Your daily lunch dates are replaced with specially picked Uber eats orders sent to your office. The sentiment is there but you couldn’t help but feel like he is avoiding you. The scene of Areum clinging to Namjoon’s arm replaying over and over in your mind. “Who was that man?” and “Why was Namjoon smiling at her after meeting him?” were the main questions plaguing your mind. The constant thought of maybe you DO have something to worry about causes a big negative shift in your mood that you’re unable to hide the longer you go without talking to Namjoon.

Tina notices the change in your attitude at work on Monday. Not-so subtly mentioning how your negative energy was killing her vibe. You grumble an apology and she spends most of the day trying to help bring you out of your sour mood. 

“Maybe he really has been busy. His boss did say he was going to be taking up a lot of his time this week.” You let out a huff, knowing what she was saying was more than likely true, but it still didn’t make you feel any better. Noticing no change in your mood, she continues. “If it helps to know, I haven’t been able to see or talk to Jimin much, either. We can only hope that they’re making good progress and they’ll be done soon. That way we can get our men back,” she chirps, her voice going up at the end to try and drive the point of positivity with her words. 

You feel bad, but the news of her not hearing from Jimin just as much does make you feel better. At least you knew you weren’t the only one and made the idea that they’re both just really, really busy easier to accept as the truth. You look over at her and give her a small smile, “Thank you. For trying to help me feel better. It’s just… I can’t help but feel like this is all too familiar territory.” Among other things. You follow up in your head, not wanting to voice it out loud and carry on that conversation here at work.

“I thought you said you were going to try and be more understanding,” Tina states, her comment catching you by surprise.

“Wait, what?” you stammer, blinking owlishly at her as she rolls her eyes at you. She sits up straighter in her seat as if she was preparing to give you a presentation.

“You were right, Y/N. Namjoon’s changed. He’s trying. Even I’ve been able to see that,” she says to you, her voice taking on a reassuring tone. “You promised that you would be more patient and understanding. Now’s the time to show that you’re trying too.”

You let out a sigh. You knew she was right and didn’t really want to admit it. You did promise to be more understanding and you definitely weren’t doing that right now. That realization does nothing to fix your mood. Only changing the reason why it was still so sour.

Tina notices the change, knowing you swapped to beating yourself up. A smile breaks out on her face as an idea blooms in her mind, reaching over and grabbing your hand in excitement as she details it to you.

“Let’s have a Galentine’s Day this weekend. The boys will probably still be busy, and if they finish up early and are able to spend time with us again, we can cancel it. Easy peasy.” She looks at you, her eyes begging you to say yes as her excitement courses through her. As if her hold on your hand was a conduit, you feel her excitement transfer to you. The infectious happiness in her smile breaking through your negative demeanor and causing a smile to form on your face. You couldn’t find it in you to turn down her offer. Her squeal of excitement rings throughout the office the moment you tell her yes. 

The thought of not having to spend Valentine’s Day alone does perk you up a little. The background chatter of Tina planning out your Galentine’s day helping you get through the rest of the work day. Come clock out time, you head out of the office and make your way towards the train for home. You feel your phone buzz, alerting you of a new text message. Checking your notifications, you see that it’s from Namjoon. His name and the context of the tweet bring a smile to your face. His short text of “Miss you” with the kissy face emoji gives you a small burst of motivation to keep the promise that you had made a few weeks earlier. “Patience and understanding. You got nothing to worry about,” you tell yourself, sending back a matching message to Namjoon before slipping your phone back into your pocket.

The rest of the week drags. The still brief only-over-text conversations with Namjoon and Tina’s absence from the office due to a sinus infection being two things that have contributed to the week feeling like it’s taking forever and a day to move along. 

Friday morning comes and you already feel an instant boost of happiness when you see Tina at her desk as you walk into the office. You skip to your desk, placing your computer bag down and taking out your laptop as you strike up a conversation with your best friend.

“Good morning! And welcome back! So I was thinking… There’s this cute little candy shop over on Cherry Lane that we should order some sweets from for our Galentine’s day.” After not hearing a response, you look up from your desk. Tina’s brow furrowing in confusion as she looks at you. “What’s wrong?”

“Didn’t Namjoon tell you?” she asks, her question making the anxiety you’ve been pushing down all week start to instantly crawl back up your throat.

“Tell me what?” you respond slowly, pulling your phone out to see if you might have missed any phone calls or text messages from Namjoon. Nothing.

“Jimin said they finished everything up on Wednesday. The mixtape is done.” You feel the color drain from your face. Tina’s eyes grow wide as she notices and quickly adds on to her news. “But maybe he meant HE was finished with everything. Joon and Yoongi probably still have things to finish up on the production end.”

You nod your head meekly. Forcing yourself to breathe in and out as you try not to jump to conclusions and hope that her assumption is right. “Yeah, maybe.” Your voice comes out squeakier than you like. A brief flash of pity shows in Tina’s eyes as she gives you a soft smile. Clearing your throat, you straighten up in your chair, plastering a fake smile on your face as you start on your work. “No, you’re right. He’s probably just finishing up the rest of his part. I’ll probably hear from him later today.” 

Tina nods her head slowly, turning back to her computer as she gets back to work. You struggle to maintain your smile throughout the rest of the day, doing your best to not to show a break in your mask every time Tina snuck a quick glance your way.

The end of the workday finally arrives and still no word from Namjoon. You skip out of the office the first chance you get, waiting for Tina to have walked away from her desk so you could sneak out without her noticing. You knew she would ask about Namjoon and it wasn’t a conversation you were really wanting to have right now. Walking towards the subway, you decide to stop at the Chinese restaurant along the way to pick up some takeout, not really in the mood to try and fix something at home. After placing your to-go order, you take a seat in the lobby, scrolling through your phone when you hear someone call your name. Looking up from your phone, you’re surprised to see Yoongi standing in front of you, having just exited the bathroom on the other side of the lobby. “I thought that was you. Picking up some food for you and Joon?”

“Ah, no. Just me.” You smile back. “Are you heading back to the office? This was a long way for a dinner break. This mixtape must be working you two into the ground.”

Yoongi shakes his head, the slightest hint of confusion painting his features. “Actually, I live around here. Just grabbing a bite to eat with some friends. We actually finished up on Wednesday. Didn’t Namjoon tell you?”

Your eyes go wide for a second as you feel your heart drop straight to your stomach. You force a closed lip smile on your face, trying to fight back the anger and frustration rising in you. “Yeah, right. Sorry, must have slipped my mind.”

Yoongi goes to say something else, only to be cut off by the restaurant host calling out your name, announcing that your to-go order was ready. You jump up from your seat quickly, grabbing your food from the host and turn to rush out the door. “It was good to see you, Yoongi. Have a great night!” You run out the door before he can respond. Once again trying to avoid an uncomfortable conversation revolving around Namjoon.

The moment you make it around the block, you stop right above the subway entrance. Grabbing your phone out of your purse, you quickly dial Namjoon’s number, taking deep breaths in and out of your noise to try and calm the boiling anger inside of you. The phone rings twice before the call is picked up. You’re ready to start your onslaught of the many questions that you have the moment he speaks, but the voice you hear at the other end knocks the breath straight out of your lungs. The perky, high pitched voice unmistakably belonging to the one person you would have never thought to be answering Namjoon’s phone. Areum. “Hello, Joojoo’s phone.” Her sickening sweet tone makes your stomach churn and you take in another deep breath to keep yourself from vomiting.

“Where’s Namjoon?” You applaud yourself for how level you keep your tone, not wanting to let her know that the very fact that she answered his phone bothers you.

“He’s busy. Can I take a message?” God, you really don’t like her.

“Just let him know that his girlfriend called,” you say, emphasizing around the word girlfriend.

“Ex-girlfriend. But I’ll let him know. Bye bye now.” She hangs up before you could say anything else. The abrupt ending and her emphasis on the word Ex not helping your growing irritation. You toss your phone back into your bag and continue on your way home.

You don’t look at your phone the whole subway ride home. Not daring to take it out of your bag until after you make it home and finish eating your Chinese. Pouring yourself a glass of wine, you finally retrieve your phone from your bag, noticing the one missed call and the three text messages from Namjoon. 

Namjoon: Hey, Areum said you called. Everything okay? Namjoon: Y/N? Baby, you okay? *Missed call from Namjoon* Namjoon: Call me back when you get a chance.

You take a deep breath before typing out your response, repeating “patience and understanding” like a mantra in your head. You tell yourself to give him the benefit of the doubt. Give him a chance to explain. He hasn’t given you any reason to doubt him. At least not until now.

You: Hey, sorry. Was eating dinner.  Namjoon: Hey, it’s cool. Everything okay? You: Yeah, I didn’t mean to worry you. Just hadn’t talked to you today. I miss you. Namjoon: I miss you too baby.

You pause for a moment. Contemplating how you want to continue the conversation. You wanted to call, not leave the interpretation of your tone through your text message to be misconstrued. But you feel like he wouldn’t give you a full explanation if he had anyone around him. 

You: Why did Areum answer your phone? Namjoon: She did? I don’t know. I had left it on the desk when I ran to the bathroom. What did she say? You: That you were busy. What was she doing with your phone? Namjoon: We were working on something in the recording studio. Guess I left my phone in there when I had run to the bathroom. Please don’t think too much into it.  You: I’m not. Just curious. Is she helping with Jimin’s Mixtape? How’s that going? Namjoon: Uh, yeah. It’s going well. Hoping to have it down by tomorrow night. I should probably get back to working on it. I’ll call you later, baby.

You read his last text over and over. Your body starts to shake as angry tears begin to spill from your eyes. He lied. He just told you a flat out lie. You don’t even respond back, throwing your phone on the coffee table as you fall onto the couch. You curse at yourself, feeling like such a fool for believing Namjoon had actually changed. He hasn’t changed at all. If anything he picked up more bad habits along the way. Adding a liar and a cheat to your list of reasons why you two won’t be able to work things out. “Well, not a cheat,” you think to yourself. “It’s not like we were back to being boyfriend and girlfriend.” The single thought makes more tears spill down your cheeks as bitterness coats like an undissolving film on your tongue. You turn to your side, curling up into yourself on the couch, the soft sniffles from your crying slowly lulling you to sleep.

Saturday goes by in a blur. You spent the whole day moping on your couch, ignoring every call or text that came your way. You once again cry yourself to sleep. The two glasses of wine and the Valentine’s themed rom coms playing on the TV helping contribute to your tearful state. You wake up Sunday morning after your crying session the night before. Determined to not waste another day moping over your failed relationship, you jump in the shower, giving yourself a quick pep talk as you refuse to let some stupid boy ruin the rest of your weekend. 

Getting dressed, you slip on a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, forgoing a bra. You aren’t planning on leaving to go anywhere anytime soon. Perfectly content with spending your day alone in your apartment with trash tv and a bottle of wine. You continue to ignore Namjoon’s calls and texts throughout the day. Turning your ringer on silent and placing it face down on your kitchen countertop. The subtle buzzing noise from the vibrations is not as aggravating to your nerves like the noisy ringtone.

It’s just nearing 6PM when you open your fridge, pulling out the unfinished bottle of Moscato from the night before when you hear your phone buzz again. Your curiosity as to why he has called and texted you more in the last 24 hours than he has in the last week gets the best of you. Snatching your phone off the countertop, you see Namjoon’s name flashing on your screen. You swipe to answer the call and bring the phone up to your ear.

“What?” You bite into the phone, the current mood you’re in does not allow you to feign any sense of civility for the start of this conversation.

“Wow. Hello to you, too. Everything okay?” Namjoon speaks cautiously on the other end, worry and confusion evident in his tone.

“Everything’s peachy,” you say, popping your ‘p’ as you pour yourself a glass of wine and take a big gulp. “How’s the mixtape going?” You know Namjoon is able to feel the sarcastic bite to your words, but he doesn’t call you out on it. Continuing on as if he doesn’t notice.

“About that. I wanna show you something. Can you meet me at the studio? And, uh, wear something nice.” His easy tone and his blatant disregard for your obvious annoyance angers you. You take another big sip of your wine and decide to not hold back your frustration any longer.

“Why don’t you show Areum,” you respond, your voice doing a terrible mimic of hers when you say her name.

“What?” Joonie questions. “Y/N. What are you on?”

“You tell me, Joon,” you bark into the phone, your voice starting to raise in volume as you lean back against your kitchen counter. “She’s the one you’ve been spending all of your time with lately. Considering Jimin’s mixtape was finished Wednesday.”

You hear him curse underneath his breath, letting out a sigh before he speaks. “Who told you?”

“Does it matter?” You wait, allowing for time to see if he would at least speak up to try and defend himself. Throw out whatever random excuse to talk his way out of this. But you’re only met with his silence. Every wordless second from him pushes a dagger into your heart. Your chest constricts from the pain and it makes you want to hurry and end the phone call right then and there. “Anyways, I can’t come and meet you. I have company. For a Galentine’s Day.”

“Y/N, I know Tina is out with Jimin. Just please come and see me,” Namjoon says, his tone beginning to sound exasperated.

“I have other friends, Namjoon.” You don’t. Not really. At least not anyone that you’d be hanging out with outside of a work function, but he didn’t have to know that. Nor did he need to know about your canceled Galentine’s plan. 

“Come on, Y/N. You’re being ridiculous,” Namjoon huffs into the phone, his tone scolding. You can picture how he looks right now. Fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he tries to control his simmering frustration with you. “Just please come meet me at the studio and I’ll explain everything.”

“No, but I agree. It was ridiculous of me to think you’ve changed. It was ridiculous of me to even try and give us another chance.” You pause your speech as your voice begins to crack. Taking a deep breath in and out of your mouth before continuing. “Now, I have to go. The very deliciously ripped male stripper has arrived. Have a fun life with Areum.”

“For the last time, nothing is going on… Wait did you say a fucking strip --” You end the call, cutting Namjoon off midsentence. A sly smile stretching across your face as you turn off your phone. The smile only lasts for a few seconds until the realization hits. The fact that you and Namjoon are once again ‘no more’ sinks in as quickly as your heart sinks to the bottom of your chest.

Grabbing the wine bottle off the counter, you pour yourself another glass as you walk to your living room, plopping down onto your couch.

You must have dozed off sometime after you finished your last glass of wine. The loud knocking on your door ripping you from your wine induced nap as you’re quickly sitting up on your couch. Your head starts to spin from the quick movement. You stand up, grumbling under your breath that you’re on your way as you walk to the door, unlocking and wrenching it open. “Can you cut it out?” You yell before even looking to see who the crazy visitor was. The moment your eyes focus on the obsessive knocker, they grow twice in size, your mouth dropping open just as wide. “Namjoon?!”

There in your doorway, dressed in the same button up and slacks from the bar weeks before, stands your ex boyfriend. Jaw clenched as he storms into your apartment, throwing the bag he is holding on to your couch as he takes a look around before letting out a scoff. “You cheeky little brat. You lied about the stripper just to make me angry, didn’t you?” 

Your face flushes with anger at his accusatory tone. You, the liar? He’s really going to point that finger at you? “Seriously?” you screech, slamming your front door in frustration before walking up to him. “YOU are going to scold ME for lying? How about you explain why you lied about you and Areum before you say ANYTHING to me about lying.”

“Nothing is going on between me and Areum!” He yells back, the growing frustration evident in his tone. The top two undone buttons of his shirt gives you a peek of the red flush growing up his chest and neck from his anger.

“I saw you at the release party with her. I saw the way you had smiled at her as she was clinging on to your arm,” you bark back, blinking back the tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

“What are you talking about?” His questions coming out through a disbelief laugh.

“After you thought I left. I came back in to grab my purse and I saw the two of you all close and personal while talking to some man.” You cross your arms, waiting to see the “oh shit” look flash on to his face knowing that he’d been caught. But it doesn’t come. Instead, he lets out a sardonic laugh, shaking his head as his hands move to rub his face.

“That was Areum’s father. He owns that Italian restaurant you’ve been wanting to try. She was introducing me to him so I can secure us a Valentine’s Day reservation. You know, for tonight!”

Your mouth drops down into an ‘Oh’ before you quickly shut it. That explains the night of the release, but it doesn’t answer for his behavior this last week or the fact that she was with him Friday night. “Then why lie to me about the mixtape? Why have you been spending so much time with her at work?” Your voice is softer, but the underlying hurt is still evident in your tone. 

“I promised her father to help Areum create some demo tracks in exchange for him squeezing us in for a reservation,” he says, dropping his hands from his face to look at you. He takes in your teary expression, his shoulders deflating slightly as he softens his own town before continuing his response. “I just wanted to do something nice for you. And the pressure to try and get Jimin’s mixtape and her demo done before tonight made me tunnel vision on just that.”

You don’t say anything. You stand there just looking at him as he leans up against your couch, guilt creeping into the pit of your stomach. When you don’t say anything, he takes it as a chance to continue. “I thought I had shown you up until then that I’ve changed. I thought I could trust you to be patient with me. That you’d be more understanding.” He looks away from you at the end of his words, clenching his jaw as he looks down at his feet.

“Wow,” you breathe out, not able to think of anything else to say. You both stand there for a few minutes in silence, neither one of you looking at each other as you take in everything he said. It dawns on you that Namjoon wasn’t in the wrong here. Not really. Things could’ve been handled better by him but the same goes for you. 

Things were going so well. You had lost yourself in the comforting warmth that came with having him back in your life. The bliss and happiness from experiencing his instant change in attention to you and your relationship overshadowing any thoughts of doubt that existed in your mind, practically making them appear nonexistent. You start to wonder if, in the back of your mind, you were trying to look for something he was doing wrong. Your underlying fear of failure jumping into action the moment anything wrong exposed itself. Latching on to your subconscious and leaking negativity and doubt into you like a poison. Knowing it was your fault that the night he had planned for the two of you was ruined, you knew it was up to you to try to fix it. To try and turn it around. And you have a small inkling of just how you could do that.

“I’m sorry, Joonie,” you say to him as you take a step closer, leaning in with your hand on his chest to give him a quick kiss. He turns away from you just slightly, jaw still clenched as you place a small peck on his cheek. You feel terrible, knowing you should have given him the benefit of the doubt that he wasn’t reverting back to his old ways. That he was really trying to prove to you that he changed. You place another kiss on his cheek, following it up with a few quick kisses on his neck that you feel make him shiver. Your lips twitch up into a smile, knowing you’re breaking through his cold demeanor. 

Suddenly, an idea pops into your head. A name he loved that you called him, one that you used to your favor to help get you out of trouble. You make your way up to his ear, nibbling on it just slightly before you whisper seductively, “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

You feel his body stiffen as you trail your hand down his chest and to the front of his jeans. Your palm barely grazes his growing bulge when he grabs your wrist in his hand, snatching it away from him causing you to back away in surprise. He wraps his other arm around you, his palm pressing at the small of your back to keep you close to him. Your eyes flicker to his and you let out a small gasp as you meet his hooded gaze. The beautiful swirls of cinnamon and honey that paints his irises are gone, disappearing behind a dark, seductive shade of lust. Falling deep into the dark depths of his lustrous gaze, you barely notice the smirk he gives as he leans in towards your ear. 

“Oh, no baby. It seems like someone has forgotten her manners.” The deep timber of his voice sends shivers down your spine, straight to your core. You feel the wetness of your arousal leaking from you and you involuntarily rub your thighs together to try and find some relief as he continues the seductive assault on your ear. “Only good girls get to call me Daddy. Disobedient little brats call me Mr. Kim.” He pulls back just slightly away from you, his dark eyes meeting your gaze once again. “Now what do you have to say for yourself?”

You cock your head to the side, licking your lips before you give him the most innocent smile. “I am so, so sorry, Mr. Kim.”

Namjoon narrows his eyes at you. His dark orbs piercing into you as he clicks his tongue against his teeth. “You know,” he sneers, pushing himself off the back of your couch. Still holding on to you as he walks you a few steps backwards. “You’ve been acting like a real brat lately. I guess that’s something about you that will never change, hmm?” 

He lets go of you, his hands moving to unbutton his shirt as he steps away from you, turning to walk around your couch. You take a step forward to follow him, stopping in your tracks when he raises his finger at you. He wags it back and forth, making a tisk noise as he continues his way around the couch. “Nuh-uh. You stay right there until I call for you, brat.” 

The deep, domineering drawl to his voice has your knees weakening. A fresh gush of arousal seeps out of you, pooling in your panties as you continue to rub your thighs together. Still searching for some sort of relief. You know if you were to look right now, you’d bet your underwear would be almost completely soaked. The way the cotton fabric is sticking to your lips a clear indication that your guess is right. 

You watch as Namjoon finishes unbuttoning his shirt, leaving it on but open as he stands staring at you with the couch being the only thing between you. He reaches down, placing his hand on top of his growing bulge. He starts moving his arm back and forth, slowly palming himself as if to taunt you. Teasing you with every slow stroke he takes up and down his long, clothed length. His dark orbs scour your entire body. You feel your body tingle as your skin grows hot from his piercing stare. The feeling of hot flames of lust licking at your every nerve ending as his hungry eyes graze over your body. Slowly tracing every dip and curve of your standing figure. You bite your bottom lip, trying to stifle a needy whine that threatens to escape. The verbal reaction, betraying you, rumbling up your throat and slipping past your lips. His eyes flicker up to the subtle movement. His pupils dilating with want at your feral sound. The tension in the air thickens. Your hand twitches from the need to touch him; your mouth beginning to water from craving his taste. Your legs feel restless, the urge to close the distance between you two cause your knees to gently buckle. The need to wrap your legs around him, to push him deep inside you growing stronger by the second. 

Namjoon cocks his brow at you. Silently daring you to move before he calls for you. Testing your resolve, your patience, as he continues to stroke himself. You knew this game, loved it. It was one you two played many times before in the year you were together. You knew if you behave, play by his rules, there would be a pleasurable payoff for you in the near future. “Good girls get rewarded,” he once purred into your ear. The memory of past earnings sends a shiver down your spine. But with the way he was looking at you, the anger from your argument still fresh on his mind, you know you would have to work for your reward. Your punishment for misbehaving would come first. The idea of receiving a punishment from Namjoon for the first time in months excites you. The walls of your pussy fluttering and clenching around nothing with just the thought of what he has planned for you. You would never admit it to him, but sometimes you enjoy the punishment a lot more than the reward. 

Satisfied with your obedience so far, Namjoon smirks at you. Turning his back to you as he sits down on the couch, digging into the bag he threw on to it just moments earlier, taking something out before pushing the bag off the cushion. The bag hits your living room floor, the remaining contents making a noise as they knock together. “Did he bring a bag of toys with him?” you think to yourself. Your thoughts are soon cut off by the sound of him calling out to you, “Come here, baby.” 

Your legs move on instinct, your body just a slave to his voice the moment he ignites your carnal desire. You move slowly around the couch, standing in front of where he sits as he continues to stroke himself through his pants. You don’t sit down, no matter how badly you want to straddle him. The position he’s in is the perfect one for you to be able to grind down onto his member. The command is only to come to him. You know doing anything more before he says will just add on to your punishment. The waking brat in you tells you to do it anyways, but you don’t listen to her. Not yet. 

Namjoon watches you through his hooded gaze, his eyes roaming over your body until they stop at your chest. Your perk nipples visibly straining through the thin fabric of your tank top. He licks his lips, his voice deep and raspy as delivers another command. “Strip, now.”

You do as you’re told, slowly slipping your sweat pants and panties off at the same time. You take your time standing back upright. Kicking your discarded clothing off to the side as you grab the bottom hem of your tank top. Slowly moving it up your torso inch by inch. “Don’t tease, baby,” Namjoon growls, his dark eyes shooting up to yours as your walls clench again from his warning. 

You smile innocently, pulling your tank top up just a little faster. You let the bottom hem catch under your breast, causing your tits to bounce free once you finally lift your tank top over your head, throwing the item up and over Namjoon’s head. You continue to stand, reveling in the way Namjoon devours your curves with his eyes. He meets your gaze once again, taking his hand off his length and placing on the arm of the couch. “On your knees. You understand what to do from there. Right, brat?” He punctuates his words. Eyes never leaving you as you sink to your knees, your hands rushing to free him from the confines of clothing. You grasp the top of his undone pants and boxers. Namjoon lifts his hips just slightly, allowing you to pull his clothes down. His long, thick dick breaking free and slapping against his abdomen. 

Your mouth instantly begins to water again. You forgot how big he was. Your eyes trailing up his impressive length, refamiliarizing yourself with the long veins that decorate his beautiful cock. The large mushroom tip, angrily colored red as drops of precum leak out. The need to taste him intensifies. You waste no time in taking him into your grasp. Your small hand wraps around the base of his cock, fingertips no where near touching due to the absurdity of his thickness. You slowly start pumping him, gathering each drop of precum as you reach the top to help lubricate your hand going back down. Namjoon lets out a humor content, eyes still hooded as he watches you stroke his dick. You lean forward, looking up at him through your lashes as you roll your tongue around his tip. You hear his breath hitch, not giving him a chance to catch his breath before you take him into your mouth. You move your head up and down, starting out with shallow bobs as you get accustomed to his length. Taking him in deeper with each pass until you feel his tip graze the back of your throat. 

Being out of practice, you gag slight on reflex the moment you feel him touch the back of your throat. A deep moan rumbles through Namjoons chest as his eyes flutter close. His hand moves to your hair, gathering it into a makeshift ponytail as you start to move faster. “Fuck, baby,” he groans, his hips starting to rut up, matching your pace. His groans motivate you, urging you to take him in deeper, faster. Your throat relaxes as his tip moves past your gag reflex. Namjoon starts guiding you with the hand in your hair, slightly pulling up and pushing down rapidly to quicken his pace. You let him take control, bracing your hands on the couch as your apartment fills with the obscene sounds of Namjoon fucking his dick into your mouth. You feel a messy layer of spit forming around your mouth, mixtures of drool and precum dribbling down your chin as Namjoon continues to pump his length into you. You start to gag again, your lungs burning with the need for air.

Out of nowhere he slams his hips up into you, shoving half his length down your throat. Hand firm on the back of your head to keep you in place. Your eyes start to water. A single tear escaping down your cheek as you close your eyes, concentrating on breathing through your nose to try and catch a much needed breath. You feel Namjoon’s cock twitch deep in your throat. You swallow, the sounds of his appreciating deep groans shooting straight down to your core. Another gush of arousal leaking out of you and you feel it drip down your thigh and on to your floor. Namjoon asks you to do that again through a breathy moan and fulfill his command. Receiving a slurred, “that’s my good girl” as he starts moving your head up and down again. You preen under his praise. His words sparking a fire in you and you take back control of the pace in which you suck his dick. Moving faster and taking him in as deep as you can with each pass. A slew of curses fly past Namjoon’s lips as he clenches your makeshift ponytail tighter.

 “Slow down baby or you’re gunna make me cum. I’m not ready yet,” he moans trying to pull up on hair to take back control. You ignore him, bobbing your head faster before you hear a growl roll through his chest. Namjoon yanking you off his dick by your hair as you let out a whine. “I said slow down, you little brat,” he growls, his chest moving rapidly up and down as he tries to catch his breath. You look up at him, a smirk on your lip as you lick around your mouth, gathering up every drop of his salty taste that still lingers. Before you can swallow, Namjoon reaches for your face. Pulling down the corner of your mouth, causing a pool of your precum mixed spit to dribble back down your chin. “You’re just my filthy little cockwhore, aren’t you?” He chides and you hum in approval. 

He releases your hair and face, leaning back into the couch and taking his length back into his hand again as he passes out another command, “Turn around, come sit on my dick.” His abrasiveness only further turns you on, hopping up off the floor quickly and turning your back to him. He quickly removes the remainder of his clothing. Tossing his pants and shirt over the couch to join your previously thrown top. He grabs your waist with his free hand, guiding you down in his lap as he positions himself at your core. He pauses your descent, rubbing his tip teasingly between your slick lips as he holds you up. You let out another whine, trying to push yourself down onto him as you speak without thinking. “Don’t tease,” you whine. You feel him move his tip away from your entrance, not allowing you a second to try and figure out where he went when you feel a harsh slap land on your pussy. You cry out, the sensation a mixture of pain and pleasure. “You don’t get to give the orders tonight, brat,” he growls into your ear. 

Once again repositioning himself at your lips, resuming his teasing back and forth strokes. You whimper in need, trying so hard to be patient, not wanting to give him anymore reason to lengthen his teasing you. As if he heard your inner plea, he stops his tip right at your entrance, slowly lowering you down onto him. Your mouth drops open in a silent moan, eyes closing shut as you feel the slight sting from the stretch of his large size. The hand you braced on the arm of the couch slips, causing you to fall slightly into Namjoon’s lap, taking more of him in. He lets out a deep moan, the vibrations from his chest rumble on your back, causing another wave of arousal to leak from you. Allowing the last few inches of Namjoon’s absurd length to slip in you until he’s buried to the hilt inside you. “Fuck, I’ve missed this tight little cunt,” he groans and you sigh in satisfaction. A small wave of relief flowing through you now that you have him inside you once again. 

A minute passes by as you both sit there not moving; Namjoon’s grip on your waist making it hard for you to move. Your frustration starts creeping up again and you feel your clit pulse with need. You grind down ever so subtly in his lap, trying to create some sort of friction. Your unapproved attempt doesn’t go unnoticed. Namjoon’s hand coming down on you once again, this time the harsh slap landing on your clit. You cry out again, the sting from the slap still lingering but it’s like your body doesn’t even notice, the action only making you grow more wet.

“Impatient little slut,” Namjoon huffs under his breath as he picks up a blue silicone object and slips it on to his finger. He presses a button near the bottom, a faint buzzing sound from the now vibrating silicone ring following shortly after. He presses his covered finger to your clit, still keeping his cock motionless inside of you. You let out a low moan as the low vibrations lick at your little bundle of nerves. Namjoon makes small, slow circles around your swollen bean as he leans your head back with his freehand. He nips at your earlobe. Sweat forming across your brow as he continues his slow circles. A subtle tension forms like a slow coil in your core. The burning need of your growing orgasm, faint but it’s there. It only adds to your frustration, the need to beg for more resting on the tip of your tongue. Namjoon nips at you once more before whispering into your ear, “This little thing has three settings. The more you behave, the higher it will go. Now, are you going to be a good girl for Daddy?” 

You nod your head frantically, words escaping you as you try to focus on the low vibrations tickling your clit, trying to find a way to increase the pressure without moving. Namjoon moves the vibrator off you, quickly replacing it with another slap to your clit. You cry out again, your walls clenching around his length causing a low moan to crawl up his chest. Namjoon presses the vibrator back on your clit, still buzzing at the lowest setting. “Use your words, brat,”he commands through clenched teeth. “Now,” he asks again, “are you going to be a good girl for Daddy?”

“Y-yes, Mr. Kim,” you stammer, your body starting to shake for the need of just more. Namjoon’s free hand trails up your stomach and cups your breast. He takes your hardened nipple between two fingers, rolling it before giving it a pinch. You let out a choked moan as he chuckles in your ear. “That’s my good girl,” he purrs before clicking the button on the vibrator, bumping it up to the mid level as he presses steady circles into your sensitive bean. You can’t control the wanton moans that fall from your lips. Your thighs start shaking in pleasure as the coil in your pit grows tighter, more of your juices leaking onto Namjoon’s cock and down your thighs. You feel your insides start to flutter, the walls of your pussy clenching around his length ever so often. You hear him let out a soft moan each time, his cock twitching inside of you. You lean back against him, arching your back as he keeps up his steady circles on your clit; showing no signs of his finger growing tired. Your head drops back on his shoulder as your eyes flutter shut. You slowly start rolling your hips forward, pushing your clit harder into the vibrator on his hand. The coil in your pit grows tighter, rolling your hips faster as Namjoon kisses your neck. Sucking red welts into your skin as he twirls his fingers faster, pressing the button on the toy and putting it on its highest level. Both of your breaths start to quicken. You feel your impending orgasm right at the precipice of release, all thoughts leaving your head. The only thing barely pulling your focus off chasing your release is Namjoon’s breathy groan in your ear, his velvety baritone pushing you closer and closer to the edge. 

“You gunna cum, baby?” he rasps, meeting each roll of your hips with his own. You nod your head, your mouth falling open as you feel your orgasm creeping up your body. You feel a rumble roll up his chest, a dark chuckle slipping past his lips as you feel his free hand wrap around your throat. “Well. that’s just too damn bad.” 

He rips the vibrator away from you as he stops the roll of his hips. You start to whine in protest only for no noise to slip past your lips from the hand around your throat tightening ever so slightly. You feel his breath on your ear, tears forming at the corner of your eyes from the pain of your orgasm slipping away. “Disobedient whores don’t get to cum,” he bites into your ear, releasing his hand from your throat as he grabs a hold of your waist. You barely regain your breath when he starts fucking up into you ferociously, selfishly chasing his own release. You feel your orgasm rapidly build back up, shutting your eyes as you concentrate on its warmth. You try to force the knot inside of you to snap, feeling yourself getting closer and closer to your goal as Namjoon shifts his hips. The tip of his cock at just the right angle to hit repeated strikes to the rough patch inside of you. You can taste your release, Namjoon’s pace and precision bringing you right to the edge before he rips you off of him, falling back onto his stomach. You cry out from the sudden loss, your walls and clit pulsing painfully from the departure of another missed orgasm. Strings of his cum shoot up from his twitching length, coating your legs and stomach with his release.

He loosens the grip on your waist. You slid your body off of him and on to the vacant part of the couch. Your legs still quiver as your back meets the soft cushion. Namjoon looks over at you with hooded eyes, his chest heaving as his cock begins to soften to a semi-hard state. The corner of his lips twitches up into a smirk, causing his dimple to appear just briefly as he moves to crawl on top of you. He hovers over you, his face parallel with yours as he touches your face with his hand, wiping away the tears still clinging to your eyes. “You took your punishment well, baby,” he coos, closing his eyes as he places his forehead against yours, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. “Such a good girl,” he murmurs, catching your lips in a slow, deep kiss. 

You move your lips in tandem. Namjoon lowers himself on to your body, grinding his rehardening cock against your core. He swallows your moans, taking the opportunity to slip his tongue between your lips. Your movements become more frantic. Namjoon licking into your mouth as he continues to rut into your pelvis, your kissing turning into nothing but tongue and teeth. He pulls away, a string of spit connecting your lips as you both come up for air. He sticks his tongue out, cutting the string as he wraps it around his wet appendage. Pulling it back into his mouth, his eyes darken with lust once more as he peers down at you. “Open,” he commands through gritted teeth. 

Your eyes widen slightly, sparkling with anticipation as you open your mouth wide. You stick your tongue out, waiting patiently for whatever he has to give you. After a quick suck in of his cheeks, he forms a ball of spit from his lips, pushing it out with his tongue. It’s slow in its descent down to you. It lands perfectly on your tongue and you quickly pull it into your mouth, swallowing it down before sticking your tongue back as if asking him for more. His eyes light up with mirth, leaning in to place a quick kiss on your lips, trailing more quick kisses down your neck and to your chest. He kisses each of your nipples before settling on one, rolling his tongue around the hardened bud before lightly sucking. You arch into him, his face being smothered by your ample bosom as he continues to suck. 

Sneaking his hand down in between you, he cups your heat. Tracing the outsides of your nether lips as you let out a light gasp. You ground down into his hand, silently begging for him to give your more. Your walls and clit are still throbbing, aching for the not one, but two denied orgasms. He releases your nipple with a pop, briefly grazing his teeth across the surface as he peers up at you. “Tell me what you want, baby.” 

“Please let me cum, Daddy,” you whine, your tone embarrassingly high from need. You don’t have to wait long for him to answer your plea. He gathers your neverending leaking arousal on two fingers. Slipping both inside of you at once, easily able to reach knuckle deep due to your level of wetness. He pumps them in and out of you slowly, taking your other nipple into his mouth as he starts to pick up his speed. It’s not long before the knot beings to reform inside of you, your hips starting to match his pace as you fuck yourself onto his fingers. You let out another whine as he bites on your nipple, taking the opportunity to also slip a third finger into your pussy. He pumps them into you faster, curling them ever so often as he finds the sensitive spot inside of you. Your thighs start to quiver as your toes curl as you reach the edge of your release. Your inner walls begin to flutter, warning Namjoon of your impending orgasm. He curls his fingers again, the well timed graze across your rough patch is enough to snap the knot inside of you. Namjoon’s name falls from your lips like a mantra. Your orgasm washes over you in waves as he slightly lessens his pace, helping you ride out your pleasure as long as possible.

At the first sign of you coming down for your high, Namjoon releases your nipple. He resumes his previous pace with his fingers, quickly moving further down your body and taking your swollen clit between his lips. Your hands shoot down into his hair as he begins to suck. You pull at him, overstimulation causing your body to react on it’s own and try to push him away. He releases your clit, leaning up just far enough to land another slap on your pussy. Another choked cry escaping from your throat. “Behave,” he snaps. The one word the only thing he says to you before taking your bud back into his mouth. Feeling your walls begin to tighten again, he fucks into you faster. He curls his fingers with every thrust into you, flicking his tongue against your bud between different pressured sucks. An unearthly screech rumbles up your throat as your second orgasm hits you fast, harder than the one you experienced just a few moments before. Your gushing release forces Namjoon’s hands out from inside of you. Your juices splashing onto his chest as he releases your clit, moving down just a little lower to your clenching hole. You let out a moan as he runs his tongue between your lips. Obscene slurping sounds ringing throughout your living room as he laps up your juices, drinking down every drop like a man starved. 

Oversensitivity kicks in again. You push at his head, your body barely able to put any force behind it as it still tries to recover from the back to back bliss. Namjoon releases you from his mouth, chuckling at you as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Evidence of your release still dripping from his chin as he moves back up your body to kiss you. He slips his tongue into your mouth, wrapping the muscle around your’s, painting it with the leftovers of your release. The taste of your arousal re energizes you, sucking his tongue between your lips to taste yourself even more. Still kissing you, Namjoon maneuvers your legs around his waist. He breaks the kiss, murmuring for you to hold on. He stands up off the couch, lifting you up at the same time. You let out a playful squeal as you throw your hands around your neck to keep you from falling. His hands are under your ass as he carries you towards the hallway leading to your bedroom. He kisses you as he walks, his hand groping your ass as he balances you with each step. His cock, nestled between your pussy and his abdomen, twitches with arousal from your continued moans.

He barely makes it to your closed bedroom door before pushing you up against it. You use the hard surface to support yourself, leaning back into as you grind your core on Namjoon’s cock. Your slick lips coating his length with your arousal as he ruts up into you, matching your movement. He leans in for a kiss and you catch him off guard. Catching his plump bottom lip between your teeth, biting it every so softly as you suck on it. Namjoon letting out a choked moan as you let it go. He pushes you further into the door, using the extra support to allow himself to position his dick at your entrance. “You think you can cum for me one more time, baby?” He asks you through a smirk, his slightly taunting tone poking at your inner brat, coaxing her to come out and finally play.

“Of course I do,” you state cockily. “The real question is can you make me cum one more time. Baby.” Namjoon lets out a deep growl and you feel the vibrations shoot straight to your cunt. Mixtures of adrenaline and excitement burning inside you as anger sparks like a flame in Namjoon’s eyes. He slams his thick rod to the hilt inside you. You let out a strangled moan from the sudden intrusion. Your fingernails digging into his shoulders as he pushes off your door. He starts fucking up into you. Gravity brings you down harder on him as he bounces you on his cock. 

“Next time, I’m gagging the little bratty mouth of yours,” he growls. He makes a quick grab for the doorknob, opening the door and stumbling into your room and towards your bed.

Namjoon is still speared inside you as he drops you both onto your bed, scooting you up the mattress until your head meets your pillow. He grabs you under your knee, lifting it up and into your chest, allowing him to fuck into you at a deeper, more delectable angle. “This pussy was fucking made for me,” he grunts. Sweat coloring his brow as he continues plowing into you. His balls slapping your ass each time he drives himself to the hilt inside of you. Your hands grasp at the sheets, your eyes rolling back into your head as you feel your orgasm growing once again. Wanton moans fall from your lips with every delicious stroke of his cock against your velvety walls. Your pussy is still sensitive from your previous two orgasms, slight oversensitivity kicking in but it only heightens the pleasure. You open your eyes, your lids fluttering from the pleasure as you blink to focus your vision on Namjoon. The street light peeking through the window falls on his face, allowing you to see him, eyes closed with his mouth dropped open, losing himself in the pleasure that is you. As if he feels your stare, he opens his eyes and peers down at you. His pupils are blown with lust yet his gaze brims with so much love and adoration as he continues to stare at you, causing a warm comfort of matching affection to start to bloom in your chest.

Dropping your knee, he slows his thrust. Changing to grinding deep into you as he moves his hands to cup your face. Kissing you deeply, he rests his forehead on yours again, speaking to you softly between labored breaths. “You know you’re the only one I want like this. Or like anything. I only want you.”

Your lips spread wide in a smile, your hands release their grip on the bed sheets, moving to the back of his head. You bring him in for another kiss before returning his sentiment. “I feel the same way, Joonie,” you huff out softly. “Now fuck me.”

Namjoon’s lips break into a quick smirk before pressing a rough kiss into yours. He pushes himself back up. A hand on your waist and his other pushed up against your head board as he starts deeply thrusting into you at an unrelenting pace. Your hands claw at his back as you arch up into him. The sensation of him striking your g-spot quickly brings another orgasm into fruition. A delicious warmth pooling in your core as you feel his movements start to stutter. “I’m close, baby,” he confesses through gritted teeth. His voice is strained as he tries to hold on just a bit longer to his release. Breathy whines asking him to ‘Don’t stop’ the only thing you're able to say in response as you creep closer and closer to the edge. He moves his hand on your waist between you, finding your clit with his thumb and rubbing it in quick circles. “Come with me, baby.” He only lasts a few more pumps into you before he’s driving into you deep, tip pressed firmly into your rough patch as he loses himself to his release. You’re quick to follow him, that last thrust the last push you need to send you over the edge. His seed spilling into you in never ending spurts, filling you up to the brim as your pussy clenches around him. He collapses on top of you, the rhythmic pulses of your walls continuing to milk him for all he’s worth, soaking up every last drop of his release.

You both lie there, chests moving rapidly up and down as you both try to catch your breaths. Namjoon's softening cock still nestled inside of you as you lightly trail your fingers up his spine. After a few minutes, he leans up, pulling himself out of you as you both wince from the loss. The mixture of your combined release starts to slowly leak out of you, dripping onto your bedsheets. He rolls to lay beside you, sliding his arm under your shoulders to pull you into him. The stickiness of your skin from your labored sweat feeling slightly uncomfortable on his, but you don’t care. Still wrapping your arms around him, your head on his chest as he rests his chin on you.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have ignored you like that. Or lied about why I was staying late. I just really wanted to surprise you and I’m terrible at keeping secrets,” he says, nuzzling his face into your hair as you scoot in closer to him.

“I know, Joonie. And I’m sorry, too. I should’ve given you the benefit of the doubt. I promised to be more understanding and I didn’t do that.” He loosens his hold on you, allowing you to lie back on the bed, still facing him.

“Then let’s start over. Try working on things again. This time, as boyfriend and girlfriend,” he asks, smiling down at you as you smile back at him. Propping up on an elbow, you raise your head up and catch his lips in a deep kiss. His smile while kissing you back lets you know that this was an acceptable enough answer. Breaking apart, you lay back down as he moves to trail kisses across your shoulder. “I brought a whole bag of things to use on you, and I barely got to dive into it. Just another thing that didn’t really go as planned,” he says with a sigh, propping his head on his hand as he looks down on you. You glance at the clock on your bedside table before turning back to Namjoon. “The night’s still young,” you purr, trailing one of your fingers down his chest. “How about you spend the night, and I’ll let you use the whole bag on me twice.” 

Namjoon grins wide, mischief coloring his eyes as he maneuvers himself back on top of you. “Deal.”

© All rights reserved under @joontopia​ - do not copy, repost, modify, edit, or translate any of my work without my direct consent. This tumblr is the ONLY place my fics are posted.

#bts smut #bangtansorciere #bangtanuniversity #bangtanhq #bangtanarmynet #kwritersworldnet #btsbookclub #houseofddaeng #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #hyunglinenetwork #namjoon smut #namjoon x you #namjoon x reader #namjoon x yn #bts fan fic #namjoon fan fic

[xxtoothachexx]

a/n: I’m currently bleaching my hair to dye it and to desperately ignore the itchiness I’m writing dumb stuff once again. don’t bring up the fact I didn’t include nezuko I barely can write something simple for her

I’m incredibly invested in animals so this was fun for me to do

Pet HCs for the Demon Slayers

Tanjiro

As much as I want to just say he’d get a dog or some normal pet I think he’d absolutely adore a rabbit or some small rodent

He loves it and takes absolutely phenomenal care of the rabbit. It’s just as nice as him and everyone else also adores the rabbit, but it doe have an issue with biting people he doesn’t like

Zenitsu

A very small hamster that he insists is his emotional support despite being as equally anxious as Zenitsu is

It likes to hide in his sleeves or his hood whenever he’s doing work or just hanging out with the hamster

Inosuke

A boar, no I will not explain why

No one knows how or even when he got it. It just showed up and no one has any idea of what to do about it. It will not leave

Kanao

She ended up buying a random hermit crab she felt bad for at a store and ended up falling in love with it

Soon enough she ended up having a whole ton of hermit crabs but she enjoys helping them pick new shells to move into and caring for them

Shinobu cannot keep track of a single one of their names but Kanao somehow can

Genya

Very big bearded dragon vibes coming off of him

Probably gave it some really cute name and takes very good care of it, he likes to let it rest on his shoulder while he does things

Sanemi isn’t allowed to take care of it because a cricket ran up his sleeve while trying to feed it and he never wants to step foot in the room again

Rengoku

The biggest and fluffiest golden retriever you’ve ever seen in your whole life, and it’s just as full of energy as him

It doesn’t have the best training though and has even taken out Tengen jumping on him when Rengoku didn’t put the dog in a different room while opening the door

Shinobu

She would absolutely love orchid mantises and would probably own an unreasonable amount of them. They’re just so pretty and look like little flowers

Other than that she’s probably owned frogs in the past. Her favorites were little poison dart frogs because she’d mortify everyone when she’d just pick them up bare handed

(fun fact w/ maxx: captive poison dart frogs are non toxic because they don’t eat the same insects in the wild that make them toxic!)

Sanemi

Never really found the interest in owning any weird or exotic pets, most of them freak him out or make him uncomfortable

Over the past few years he started adopting senior dogs from shelters to give them a proper home in their last few years and he has a major soft spot for them 🥺

Someone pointed out sanemis beetle I’m kind of an idiot that I forgot it lmao

Tengen

The most annoyingly pampered and spoiled small dog (I can’t decide between a toy poodle or dachshund and idk why those two come to mind)

Bedazzled collar and cool little accessories and all that. It constantly will be looking at others with the most unapproving glare ever

Giyuu

Of course he has cat owner vibes but I feel like he’d own another animal. He has a small and quiet little cat though that he talks to

He bought a tarantula for the sole reason of being able to tell others that it got out so that they’d leave his damn house when he wanted them to

Muichiro

Has co-ownership of a tiny betta fish that Genya helped him win at a festival. He has co ownership because he keeps forgetting to feed it and clean it’s tank

Despite that the fish is surprisingly resilient. It’s launched itself out of its tank on multiple occasions and survived fine till someone found it but heaven forbid Muichiro be ten minutes late to feeding it

Mitsuri

Absolutely another cat lover. Accidentally created an army of stray cats that cry at the front door to be fed every morning. They’re all kind of scraggly but she loves them regardless

Her favorite is an old one eyed calico that Obanai took one look at and named Pirate, she’s very sweet

Obanai

Kaburamaru and a love for snakes is a given for him. He likes ball pythons the most because they’re very sweet and cute!!

He’s had a blue tongue skink for a while too, but he also hates bugs so he makes other people get the insects to feed it (he can suck it up and handle them on occasion)

Gyomei

The absolute chunkiest grey cat you’ve ever seen in your life. It meows a lot to greet him and let him know where it is around his house

It has a habit of walking through people’s legs and causing them to trip. It will do this to everyone but Gyomei

#demon slayer #demon slayer headcanons #kimestu no yaiba #demon slayer imagines #tanjiro kamado #zenitsu agatsuma #inosuke hashibira #kanao tsuyuri #shinaguzawa genya #kyojuro rengoku #giyuu tomioka #shinobu kochou #sanemi shinaguzawa #tengen uzui #tokitō muichirō #mitsuri kanroji #iguro obanai #gyomei himejima

[liss-99]

Polin - Dress 💛💛💛

oooooooooooo a spicy one and my fav rep song I love it ;) this one’s kind of long so it’s below the line!

It was long-sleeved and fell to the top of her thighs. The neckline was a deep v, one that highlighted her breasts in the most sensual way. The skirt wrapped and grabbed tightly at the waist, and the whole thing was adorned in thousands of little crystals. The black fabric was as dark as night, but with the shimmer of the crystals, she appeared like a femme fatale. She’d purchased the dress one week prior at Chanel; it’d cost her a month’s salary. But it was worth it because tonight, he was going to rip the dress off her. Well, she hoped he wouldn’t rip it exactly, she wanted to keep the dress, but she knew he would want to get her out of it as fast as he could. Penelope twisted her fiery hair into a low chignon and swiped a deep crimson paint onto her lips before leaving for the party. 

The Bridgerton family was hosting a celebratory soiree to mark Violet Bridgerton’s birthday. Bridgerton House was filled with hundreds of guests to celebrate the matriarch, but all Penelope could focus on was him. 

Colin and Penelope had been sneaking around for a couple of weeks now. When they first kissed three weeks ago, after a decade of friendship, they both agreed to take things slow. They didn’t need his family or hers questioning them or butting in on their adapting relationship. 

So, they shared secret moments in crowded rooms, their families having no idea about them. Penelope liked the secret of it; it was a thrill, a rush, an affair, it was as if they were teenagers forbidden from seeing one another. They stole kisses in cramped corners or blocks away from either’s flat. She knew eventually their family would know about them, but for the moment, she reveled in having him and their relationship completely to herself. 

It had only been three and a half weeks, but already, there was an indentation in the shape of Colin; he made his mark on her like a golden tattoo. He was a permanent fixture in her life now, Penelope would never be able to forget the feeling of his body on hers. 

They feigned cordial ‘hellos’ as if he had not texted her just an hour before all of the things he could not wait to do to her that night. They both suffered through all of the silence and patience, the pining in anticipation and desperately waiting. They could not risk being too close to each other in such a public space, they would not be able to resist one another. Penelope’s hands were shaking from holding back from him. She wanted to caress his cheek, rub his back, place her hand on his thigh, feel his desire for her grow. 

The night seemed to drag on forever,  but as soon as it was respectable enough to leave, Colin gave a short nod towards her. She jumped in the car that was waiting to take her home, and not more than five minutes after she arrived, she heard his knock. 

She opened the door, and his tall, handsome frame took up the whole thing. 

“Pen,” he whispered, his eyes twinkling. 

He said her name and it was as if everything else just stopped. 

Only a beat later he moved inside and shut her door, before grabbing her and pulling her to him. Their lips wrestled with each other like it was a fight to the death. Penelope couldn’t help but think that she didn’t want Colin like a best friend. 

He stopped a moment to drink her in. She was an absolute vision, one he wanted to ravish and worship for the rest of his days. 

“Penelope, you’re so goddamn sexy,” he huffed, divesting himself of his suit. “This dress is incredible.”

Devilishly, she looked up at him, put her hand directly on the back of his head, and forced her to look right at him. 

“I only bought this dress so you could take it off,” she whispered. And take it off he did. 

Colin practically growled as he lifted her up and carried her into her bedroom. placing her at the edge of the bed. Slowly, he turned her around so her back was to his chest and he pulled the zipper. From the nape of her neck down to her lower back, with every centimeter of skin he revealed, he placed a soft kiss on her flesh, until finally, the glimmering piece of fabric fell from Penelope’s hips. 

That night, as they made love, it was as if he was carving his name into her bedpost, surmounting himself against any other man who ever dare try to do to her the things he was was doing right then. He didn’t want her like a best friend. 

Later, after they had thoroughly explored each other five times over, they were taking a bath. It was inescapable, their pull toward one another, and neither of them was going to nor wanted to try to escape it. If they got burned, at least they were electrified. Things, they could come crashing down, but it would have been as a result of the most electrifying thing either of them had ever known. 

Penelope was laughing, spilling wine in the bathtub, Colin kissed her face and they were both drunk. Drunk off the pinot and drunk off of each other. Penelope looked at him lovingly and said, “everyone thinks that they know us, but they know nothing...” before capturing his mouth with hers once again. 

All of the silence and patience, the pining in anticipation and desperately waiting, the shaking hands from holding back....it was always worth it. 

She often flashbacked to when they met; his hair buzzed and hers bleached. Even in her worst of times, when she was bitter and angry, he could see the best of her. She flashbacked to her mistakes, her rebounds, her earthquakes, in the worst of her lies, he saw the truth of her. 

She woke before him in the morning. They had barely slept, for they’d been too consumed with each other to slumber. Penelope was so thankful she had woken up just in time to realize her feelings for him. Now she would forever get to wake up by his side. He was her one and only, her lifeline. 

He had been her best friend, one she was grateful for. But now, she didn’t want him like a best friend. She looked over to her dress that was strewn on the floor, knowing he would be taking it off her many, many more times. 

Taylor Swift Bridgerton One-Shots

#colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #polin #colin x penelope #taylow swift #dress #reputation #bridgerswift #only bought this dress so you could take it off #bridgerton fic #bridgerton

[heresathreebee]

Brackish And Briny Waters (three)

[Ralph Lamont X Female Reader]

Summary: Spend the weekend painting the house with your husband. Previous Masterlist Next

Tags: 17+ | 1.6k words | Painting a house together, aka domestic stuff, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, pulling out, vague mention of rats.

AN: part 4 is gonna get angsty I just finished it

Anything involving greens was a heavy battle between you two, as Ralph seemed to have some kind of vendetta against them. The more blue you got, the less you fought and you eventually settled on a cool tone to use for the laundry room with a compromise to paint floral accents in a forest green tone along the edges of the back wall. You did find an exact replica of one of the original wallpapers in your second bedroom which you wanted to move to the living room. 

Colors selected and purchased, you went home starving and managed to scrape together some left overs with a side of rice to fuel you to start on the real work. You also bought brown paper to cover the solar room window holes until you can finish that room as its own project. 

Ralph rolls up his sleeves and puts on his bleach stained lounge pants to help. You lay down tarp and use up 3 rolls of tape to cover the kitchen and the dining room. Every window and door is wide open as you set your record player to play some 'whistle while you work' type of albums. And whistle he does that husband of yours, enjoying your company and shaking his hips dramatically to make you laugh. You two haven't had this much fun in so long it feels like. 

The summer citrus color you chose for the kitchen was really working for you. Ralph intended to put the wallpaper up in the other room to get 'double the work done' but still you find him working the same wall just to be close to you. You talk about missing that classic NYC pizza and dinner tomorrow and Ralph promises to ask his colleagues about any music shops in the area. 

You take a nap on the porch swing to get away from the paint fumes, an iced tea almost slipping from your hand. When dinner time comes, you cook while he details the removal of the old wallpaper from the dining room to work tomorrow. He's rambling about using a third coat on the living room paint and you don't think it's necessary but you know he'll agree with you come morning. 

"Come eat Ralph Vincent," you scold him for getting paint on the door frame but all is forgiven when he sweeps you into a hungry kiss. 

"I'd rather eat you right now." 

Ralph's flirtations are interrupted by his own ractious growling stomach and you laugh at him as you shove a plate into his hand. You eat together by the window in the living room. While it hasn't been painted yet, you have moved the furniture to the middle of the room and the fumes from the kitchen and dining room are still very strong. You hope it doesn't affect your sleep tonight (or hope it puts you down like a dose of melatonin). 

"Floyd's got a boat," Ralph tells you. "Says he takes it out on the water almost every day. Asked if I wanted to join him." 

"And are you?" You spin another forkful of angel hair spaghetti on your plate. 

Ralph slurps his like a child. "Am I what." 

"Are you going to join him on his boat?" You speak slowly and patronizingly. Ralph pinches your breast and almost makes you drop your plate. "No. I hate boats. I hate water. I don't want to be trapped for hours out there listening to him talk about paintings and philosophers, at least at work I can walk away." 

You chuckle. "I think Floyd sounds very interesting. What do you have against him?" 

"Nothing," he protests, "he talks too much. He's loquacious– that's what Justine calls him, and she's one to talk. If you must know, he's actually my favorite– he knows when to keep his nose out of my business." 

Dishes are made slightly more difficult with Ralph hanging off your shoulders. He peppers kisses up and down your neck, even finds a hickey from the morning that's started to fade and he remarks you. You dig your dripping fingers into his hair when he finds that spot on your neck and gives it some much needed attention. 

"Ralphie, baby, please," you whisper, "I could use your help with these." 

Dishes are done in record time and suddenly you're being whisked away to your bedroom (not that you were complaining). This room has the wallpaper that you had no intention to change aside from a fresh upgrade. Ralph takes your hand to spin you around and back you into your shared room all the way to the edge of the bed. Along the way he plants kisses from your hairline to your collarbone before he lets you fall atop the thick quilted bedspread. 

He gazes at you with a warm expression. The soft "my girl" he whisperes makes your heart swell. 

You expect him to pick up your legs and pull you by your knees to the outside of his hips (want him to even), but Ralph has other ideas it seems. It's not until his head is between your legs that you realize what he's up to (or rather down to). You gasp a lung full of air and grab him by the hair of his head. 

"Jesus," you sigh. 

Your husband's rumbling laughter causes your thighs to twitch. "Say my name, I'm the one doing all the work." 

"Yeah but you love– aha!" His beard brushes your inner thighs and leaves a delightful burning sensation in the deepest part of your soul. "Fuck…" 

You pull his hair harder and feel the soft locks stretch in your bloodless grasp. You can feel that immortal coil wind tighter and tighter inside you as Ralph devours you. You start chanting his name, the pitch of your voice beginning to crescendo the closer you get to that fire cracker ending. Ralph doubles his efforts, eager to have you fall apart on his tongue and fingers. 

He's more than making it up to you tonight. 

When you come, your body curls in on itself and your thighs lock around his head, effectively deafening him. You have no idea if he can hear the scream that rips from your body but you can't either as your eyes rolls back in ecstasy. 

You relax onto the bed and feel it dip with an additional weight to your side. You slide into Ralph's easy embrace, his dry hand coming up to hold you to him and just rest for a bit. 

"Fuck," you say huskily, "you're really good at that…" 

Ralph kisses you in answer, trying to deepen the connection but you have to twist away to catch your breath. Instead he plants lingering, sweet kisses on your neck, your cheek, your hair. His hand caresses your back in circles until you're nearly asleep from the motion. 

You flinch when you feel his nose brush against yours. "Baby… don't fall asleep." He sounds so sweet until his voice darkens and he says, "I'm not done with you yet." 

You lose track of time and all you can feel is Ralph Lamont. You're both covered in a sheen of sweat and his hips rock leisurely into yours. You don't know who grabbed who but your hands are tangled together and refuse to let go. Ralph's breath dusts over your neck, cool in contrast to the fire of his physical form pressed against you. You want to come again but you let him draw it out, let him love you tonight. 

"Ralph." You whisper in his ear, begging with no pressure to change pace. You're happy if he's happy and he is very content to keep thrusting into you to his peak and slow down, never stopping but always making you want more. Your man kisses you flush on the mouth and adjusts his position. His thrusts change. They grow from hypotonic and shallow to a little hard and more purposeful. You moan at the feeling, your legs locking around his hips to draw him deeper despite your exhaustion. 

Your orgasm washes over you nice and gentle, nothing like the force of the first time. You're conscious enough to lock your ankles around Ralph's hips, but it still doesn't prevent him from slipping his flushed and reddened cock out and finishing on your stomach as he always intended. You feel a strange tickle of disappointment as you come down from your high but push it to the back of your mind for later. 

Some way, somehow, Ralph still has enough strength to clean you both up and tuck you into bed. He curls around your body despite the near unbearable heat and falls fast asleep, his soft snores right behind your ear lulling you under the tide of sleep. 

DAY FOUR

"Morning." 

Your Saturday is awash of more painting and moving furniture with Ralph. He made coffee and eggs and brought it to you in bed, then dragged you down to look at the frayed wires on the clothes dryer machine. 

"Might be rodents," you muse. "I'll get some traps on Monday and find my soldering iron." 

"We'll get traps tonight," your husband countered, scratching his chin, "the sooner the better." 

You finish removing the old wallpaper in the living room and carefully put up the new one with little fuss. The kitchen still smells of paint but it's dry (it had better be, you left the windows open all night and it's freezing in here) so you put the kitchen utensils and appliances back and remove the protective tape and brown paper. Ralph is proud of the precision work done in the corners and edges, patting himself on the back and yours. 

"We did good babe," he said, "by this time next week, we'll have the whole house done!" 

You laugh at his optimism. There were still cobwebs to dust, cracks to spackle, floors to polish, windows to replace. This was the very reason he picked this place… 

To keep you busy. To keep your mind from wandering to those dark places that linger in your past. 

At least it was working.

Tagging people who might like to know: @werwulfy @hoodoo12 @escape-your-grape @go-commander-kim @fundamentally-lazy @mimiscappinisideblog do y'all wanna be here? If not lemme know please 😅 DM me

#three bees writing #ralph lamont #ralph lamont x reader #smut #things seen and heard au #vaguely ghost house au #black reader insert

[nalgenewhore]

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter

☽ ☼ ☾

six years ago.

“I so am not going,” Elide shouted, gripping the slats of her headboard as her roommate pulled on her ankles. “I was at the shop all day, I’m tired.” 

“Elide Lochan, get your bodacious bod out of bed and into something spooky,” Aelin commanded, bracing a high-heeled foot against the sideboard. “Get. Up. Now.” Elide groaned and flipped onto her back, blowing her bangs up with a huffed breath. They glared at each other, neither backing down. Aelin clicked her tongue, “Come on, it’s Samhain!”

“All the more reason not to go,” the dark haired girl said, crossing her arms across her chest. “It’s the sabbath - I will not go to your blasphemous boyfriend’s blasphemous party.” 

“You know you love Ro-Ro. And c’mon,” Aelin whined, not above stomping her foot like a petulant child, “it’ll be fun!” 

She sighed loudly and flicked her eyes upwards, “Fine. I’ll go.” Elide pushed herself to sitting and stood up. Aelin clapped her hands and collapsed onto the mattress as Elide slunk to her closet and flung the doors open. “I think… goth Barbie. Yes, no?” 

“Yes, yes, yes,” her friend agreed, lounging about as Elide perused her wardrobe.

First, she pulled out her patch jeans. Not tonight. She looked at a corset dress and hummed, her head tilted to the side, “Maybe…” Elide unhooked a PVC pencil skirt and spun to Aelin, “Thoughts?” 

Aelin propped herself up on her elbows, her brilliant eyes narrowed in scrutiny, “Ooh, with your new corset and the red top with the sleeves?” She made a vague gesture to represent the long sleeves. “Oh, wait, let me get you some shoes. I have the perfect boots.” Her long hair was a flash of gold as she launched herself up and out of Elide’s room. 

Elide tossed her outfit onto her now vacated bed and sat at her vanity, fluffing her layered pixie-shag hair cut. She plugged in her hair straightener and as she waited for it to heat, she started on her make-up. 

When the door was slammed open, Elide held her finger up. She filled in her wicked sharp eyeliner and used the tip of her ring finger to smudge some along her lower lash line. Then she stood up and turned, eyes landing on the red patent leather ankle boots. “Are those them?” 

“Mm-hmm, how perfect are they,” Aelin asked, passing them to Elide. “I’ve been meaning to give these to you - they’re too small for me.” 

“Ae, these are gorgeous,” Elide gushed, picking one up and running her fingers over it. “They’re beautiful, are you sure?” She hugged it to her chest, softly petting it. 

Brilliant laughter spilled from Aelin’s glossy lips, “Yes, take them, please. I never wear them, I only bought them ‘cause they were, like, seventy-five percent off.” 

“Oh, I love love love you,” Elide sang. She picked up her phone and opened her music, choosing a playlist at random. Her hips swayed to the bouncing beat of I’m Gonna Love You Too and Aelin laughed, singing along and dancing around. 

Elide picked up her straightening iron and held it like a microphone, dramatically reaching towards her roommate, “You’re gonna say you’ve a-missed me, you’re gonna say you’ll a-kiss me…”

“Yes, you’re gonna say you’ll a-love me, ‘cause I’m a-gonna love you too,” Aelin sang, shimmying her shoulders. 

Elide sat and hummed as she revamped her layers, curling them upwards into horn-like wisps. She clicked the straightener off and stood up, laughing and joking with Aelin as she got dressed. Once the underbust corset belt was snug and tied, Elide zipped her skirt up and smoothed any fussy wrinkles away. She twirled and popped her hand on her hip, “Well?” 

Aelin studied her. Then she stood up and plucked the toy tiara Elide had once used in a costume and put it on her head. “There.” 

Elide turned around and looked at herself in the mirror, fixing the tiara. “And now?”

“Be still, my foolish heart,” Aelin proclaimed, tapping her hand over her chest in an imitation of her beating heart. “You look absolutely ravishing, darling girl.” 

Elide smiled and held her hand out, “Shall we? It’d be rude of the host’s girlfriend to be late.” 

Aelin slung her arm around Elide’s waist and pulled her towards the door, “I thought I told you already, I’m never late. Everyone else is simply early.” 

“Oh, yes, how could I have forgotten?” 

“I haven’t the faintest idea, Elide,” she sniffed, primly turning her nose up. “Everyone should listen to what I say all the time. How else will the world turn round right?” 

“You are my favourite person in the world, golden girl,” Elide laughed. 

“I better be, I put a roof over your head and booze in your stomach.” 

Elide laughed again and unscrewed the lid off the vodka bottle, pouring them both generous shots in the bottom of two random glasses. She passed Aelin hers and lofted her own, “To…?”  

“Being, young, wicked smart, fucking hot and having zero responsibilities!” 

 ☽ ☼ ☾

As he walked up the pathway to the creaking, booming house, he could feel countless sets of eyes burning into him. He rolled his shoulders and resisted the urge to glare at those staring. Honestly, he should’ve been used to it by now. It was either his height, his hip-length hair in a loose braid, or his… aggressive wardrobe. 

Fenrys, the little shit, told him it was because of the frown on his face, but Lorcan didn’t believe him. He never had a shortage of offers, from whomever he so wanted and so chose. He thought it was because people considered him to be a challenge, a lost and wandering soul to tether. 

Lorcan was just genuinely disinterested. That twelfth grade pipsqueak didn’t know what he was talking about. Lorcan regretted the day he ever agreed to let the high schooler’s band play a show at the club. The boy fell in love every single day with a new person. 

Almost as if he had summoned him, someone familiar crashed into his back, lanky legs wrapping around his torso and reedy arms locking around his neck. Lorcan groaned and shook the kid off, “Fen, fuck off. Go home, you have school tomorrow.” 

The dark-skinned boy hopped around to face him, a maniacal grin splitting his face in two, “No, sir, I got a pro-D day tomorrow. I’m up all night, all night, boy!” Fenrys howled and Lorcan shook his head at him, muttering something rude. Fenrys slung his arm around Lorcan’s waist, “Say, what are you doing here, Lor? I didn’t think the law students let anarchists in their fêtes, as it were.” 

“See, my plan is to stay until they toss me out on my ass. I think I’m pretty unnoticeable, yeah?” 

Fenrys laughed and slapped Lorcan’s back, over his patch jacket, “Yeah, thank the gods that you don’t have a huge red ‘A’ on the back of your coat or whatever.” Lorcan snorted. “I mean, you’re not all master of disguise like me.”

Lorcan eyed the spikes Fenrys had styled his kinky, dense hair into and chose not to comment. “How was your show tonight?” 

“Dude!” Fenrys shouted, “It was crazy. I thought my arms would fall off.” 

The boy started imitating playing the drums, violently, and Lorcan shook his head, “Come on, kid, let’s go.” He slung his arm across Fenrys’ shoulders and steered the drummer into the kitchen. Under the lights, Lorcan saw a flash of silver-blond hair, “Look, there’s Rowan, go talk to him.” 

“Yo, Whitethorn,” Fenrys yelled, his hands cupped around his mouth. Lorcan rubbed his eyes, muttering something. Rowan turned around and smiled, lifting his hand to wave. He grabbed something and made his way over to them. 

“Hey, man,” Lorcan said. 

“Hey, guys, thanks for coming,” Rowan said, passing Lorcan a can of beer. “You just get here?” 

“Yeah,” Lorcan said, “I had some stuff for class and Fen had a show.” 

Rowan nodded, “Oh, you know what, you should tell me when your next show is so I can come.” He looked so eager, so earnest, Lorcan almost felt bad for him. 

Fenrys roared with laughter and cuffed Rowan’s shoulder, “That’s fuckin’ funny, man, I’m going to go see if I can find Ashryver.” He departed, his head bopping to the beat of the music. 

Rowan turned to Lorcan, his brows furrowed, “Funny? Why?” 

Lorcan pressed his lips together to avoid smiling, “I think that Fenrys is saying that his music… it isn’t really your style, ya dig? It’s very nice of you to support him, but c’mon, Rowan. You went to one show last year and were scared to touch anything. Now we have to go find Fen ‘cause I’m not dropping him off at home wasted again. Emrys will beat me to death and cook me.”

His silver-haired friend laughed and they walked to where they could see Fenrys’ bleached-blond liberty spikes sticking above everyone else’s head. He was standing at one end of a ping-pong table, opposite two stunning women. The dark-haired one caught Lorcan’s eye and he stared for a moment, trying to figure out where he recognised her from. 

“Salvaterre, do you want to keep drooling over my little sister or do you want to play?” 

“I hope you choke to death on Rowan’s dick, Ash,” Lorcan replied evenly. He didn’t turn his gaze from the girl, who stared back at him, her eyes brazenly surveying him. Lorcan saw the challenge in her eye melt into heated appreciation. He ducked his head to hide his barely-there grin from Aelin’s hawkish glare and bounced a ping-pong ball off the table, “Are we playing or do you just want to keep guarding your sister’s virginity for eternity?”

The woman standing next to Aelin cackled with delight and leaned over the table, “It’s a little too late for that, but it gives her a sense of purpose now. I’m Elide, if you ever want to stop referring to me as ‘Aelin’s little sister’.”

He laughed quietly, “It’s nice to meet you, Elide. I’m Lorcan, this is Fenrys,” he gestured to the boy next to him. Fenrys gave her a toothy grin and a two-fingered salute. “So, are we playing or what?” 

“That sounds like a challenge, Lorcan,” Elide mused. Lorcan arched a brow and slowly looked her up and down. The black skirt she wore clung to her sinful curves and the corset cinched her waist tightly. Against her pale complexion, the blood red, long sleeve top she wore made an alluring and tempting contrast, matching her crimson-painted lips. 

“Maybe it is,” he countered, tilting his head to the side. 

Her eyes sparkled with something and she kissed the ping-pong ball before tossing it. It soared in a perfect arch and landed directly in the cup nearest to him. Lorcan’s brows raised and Elide laughed a delicate, smokey and sultry sound, “I like a challenge.” 

 ☽ ☼ ☾

“Come with me,” Elide said, holding her hand out expectantly. 

Lorcan looked between her outstretched hand and her face warily, “Where to?” 

“The kitchen,” she said, waving her fingers, “c’mon, my drink is empty.” 

He stood and let her pull her behind him, laughing under his breath at her cockiness. Lorcan drained the last of his drink and tapped it against his bottom lip. “Where do I know you from? I feel like I’ve met you before.” 

She turned and walked backwards, their joined hands hanging between them, “Hmmm… I don’t know. I go to the Vaults a lot, maybe I’ve seen you there?” she asked, referencing the local punk club near the university. Elide gave him a cheeky once-over, “You seem to be of that… persuasion.” 

“As do you,” Lorcan replied, nodding his chin towards her layered, wisp-filled pixie cut. “Very Twilight of you, I must say, princess.” He reached out and flicked her tiara.

As they arrived at the kitchen, Elide dropped his hand and hopped up onto the counter beside the collection of various bottles of alcohol. His hand tingled at the loss of contact and he squeezed his fingers into a fist. “I love me some Alice Cullen. She was my queer awakening.” 

“Ah, mine was Heath Ledger,” he replied back, smug. Lorcan grabbed the bottle of whiskey and poured a long, long shot into his cup. Then he got a can of Coke from the ice filled cooler and poured that to the rim. Elide chuckled when he bent to sip in case of a spill. 

Lorcan pushed his hair back as he stood back up and watched her pour a sickeningly green liquor into her cup. “Damn, that’s… green, shit, Lochan.” 

“Yeah, I like my tongue spooky colours,” she said with a shrug, putting the green one down and drowning it in vodka and Sprite. “Don’t you?” 

He laughed, “Maybe. What kind of spooky are you talking about?” 

Elide hummed coyly, taking a sip of her, indeed, spooky drink, “All kinds of freaky shit.” She patted his arm, “So, if you live with Ro, why do I never see you?” 

“Oh, I’m- I’m a photographer so I’m not home much,” he said, drinking from his cup. “I go to a lot of concerts and stuff.” Lorcan leaned against the counter opposite her and lifted his leg to kick her foot. “So what do you do, hmm? Are you in the art program?” 

Elide tilted her head to the side, “Well, I was. I dropped out first year for a tattoo apprenticeship and I’ve been doing that for a few years,” she said, scrunching her nose up. 

“Y’know what, I think we had a class together first year. I think I… spilt coffee on your drawing.” 

Her eyes lit with recognition, “Oh my gods, yes! I so remember you, I was so mad about that.” 

He ducked his head, “I’m real sorry about that.” A lopsided grin spread across his lips and he looked up, “So, where are you apprenticing?” 

“The Omega on Main street, you know it? Run by Blackbeaks, exclusively?” 

“Holy fuck, yes. I’m getting a tattoo there next week,” Lorcan said, his eyes wide. “Their tattoos are… amazing. It’s fucking art work.” 

“I know! You know, if you know what you’re getting, I might’ve worked on it.” 

“I’m getting an old school, traditional style raven on my chest,” Lorcan said, gesturing from shoulder to shoulder and down his sternum. “I got one of the freaky twins. Fallon, I think.” 

Elide nodded, “Fallon is amazing. She’s actually hilarious when you’re with her one on one. She likes Enya and has her on her tattooing playlist, so prepare for that.” She hopped off the counter and hooked her finger in his belt loop. Elide pulled him, once again, and guided him towards a couch. They sat down, Elide’s legs haphazardly strewn across his lap. Lorcan’s hand splayed above her knee and he toyed with a rip in her tights. 

Lorcan rested his chin on her shoulder and bumped his nose into her jaw, “So, what’s your Samhain declaration?” 

She leaned backwards and regarded him seductively, “Hmm… to new things and new… people.” 

Lorcan lifted his cup and said: “To new things and new… people.” 

 ☽ ☼ ☾

Lorcan wrangled Fenrys, “Boyo, come on. I gotta get you home.” He sighed and tossed the bony boy over his shoulder. 

Elide shrugged on her faux-fur coat - white with black hearts - and laughed at the sight as she fluffed her hair, “Aww, you take good care of your baby. Look at the little guy.” 

He grinned and leaned against the porch column. “He sure is a champ in the morning. So perky,” Lorcan slapped Fenrys’ ass and chuckled when Fenrys whined, drowsily mumbling a protest. 

She giggled tipsily and walked out, impressively straight given how much vodka she’d consumed. “I’m a Blackbeak, bitch. We bleed vodka,” Elide said, pronouncing the last word with the accent of her mother. 

“Oh, shit,” Lorcan mumbled, “I didn’t mean to say that outloud. Whoopsies.”

Elide laughed and patted his cheek before she leaned in and kissed his face, “Goodnight, my darling.” 

He laughed, the sound slightly choked, “G’night, princess.” 

She clicked her tongue and walked down the steps, going to the cab she’d called. “Give Fenny Poo some meds and water and don’t call me ‘princess’!” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Don’t call me that either!” 

“As you wish, princess.” 

She scoffed and held her middle finger up high, “I loathe your existence, Salvaterre!” 

“Oh, don’t be mean to me, please, gorgeous, I’ll fall in love with you,” he crooned, smiling wildly.

In retrospect, it hadn’t seemed so likely.

☽ ☼ ☾

an: i luv them 🥺couple notes: - aelin & rowan r three years older than elide & lorcan, fenrys is in twelfth grade ! - lorcan is anarcho-punk and elide is riot grrrl !

songs played in chapter: (by order of appearance) 1. I'm Gonna Love You Too - Blondie (cover of original by buddy holly)

@mythicaitt​​​ @werewolffprince​​​ @schmlip-scribble​​​ ​ @the-regal-warrior​​​ @ladyverena​​​ @ttakeitbacknoww​​​ @shyvioletcat​​​ @alifletcher2012​​​ @tswaney17​​​ @ourbooksuniverse​​​  @flora-and-fae​​​ @thesirenwashere​​​ @queenofxhearts​​​ @maastrash​​​ @mynewdreamwasyou​​​ @cursebreaker29​​​ @empress-ofbloodshed​​​ @b00kworm​​​ @hizqueen4life​​​ @silversprings98​​​ @amren-courtofdreams​​​ @minaidss​​​ @superspiritfestival​​​ @sanakapoor​​​ @ireallyshouldsleeprn​​​ @spyofthenightcourt​​​  @thegoddessofyou​​​ @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx​​​ @claralady​​​ @neonhellas​​​ @darlinminds​​​ @readingismyonlyhobby​​​ @autophobiaxx​​​ @silversprings28​​​ @myshadowsingeraz​​​ @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​​​ @elriel4life​​​ @always-in-a-daydream​​​ @jlinez​​​ @ladywitchling​​​ @mariamuses​​ @darklesmylove​​ @adelzd-bookblr​

#star-crossed & moon drunk #sc&md chapter two #elorcan #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #stella luna salvaterre lochan #isa writes #nalgenewhore

[spookysquish13]

THE START

The Start Author Note: Hi guys! Im Morph. I wanted to try my hand in some writing. I didn't know where to start with JJ and saw someone wanted Pop Punk JJ. Pop Punk used to be my life and felt that this was actually meant to be. -- This seems shorter then what I wanted, but I didnt know where to stop or start or any of it.

*ps. i got locked out of my old account and am reposting my works.*

The start "I swear to fucking god Chris, I'll turn this fucking car aroundShut the fuck up" beach boy mccafferty WARNINGS: Drug use, moving, mosh pit, circle pit, blood

After years of hard work things changed drastically in the last few months. You were moving to the outer banks. You found an apartment and an old good friend from way back when, who's lived there for some time is going to help you get your bearings.

---

You spent all day with your friend, Charlie, helping you unpack and decorating a bit. You moved into a decent 2 bedroom apartment. It has a nice sized living room, your tv stand is a long 9 shelf cubed bookshelf, which allowed room for your movie collection with room to grow. There is a little patio in the back with a grill, and a cute little kitchen with a pantry out-cove.

There is enough room for some people to comfortably stay over while having space to move around. Nothing spectacular but good enough to call a new home.

In the bedroom you have the regular pinterest decor, headboard and footboard with lights wrapped around the spindles. In the second room you have a futon and a little record player corner, with some old records you found at thrift stores on the wall. In the living room you put out a polaroid camera so when people come in you can take their pictures. A way to remember some memories. You took a picture with Charlie when she received a text. While you are hanging the picture on the wall where the camera is located, Charlie screams and runs into your room looking through your closet.

"WE are going to a show tonight!" Charlie says trying to pick out outfits for herself and for you. She tells you to go shower after moving in this heat you need to be fresh for the concert.

---

You settle on a state champs t-shirt that you bleach tye dyed yourself tucked into ripped jean shorts with black matte doc martens. Doing your hair in space buns because they are freaking cute, and minimal makeup. Winged eyeliner, mascara and some liquid lipstick.

Charlie comes out of the bathroom running around gathering her stuff as she tells you that our ride is here. In the old van you see many heads already in the back. Charlie climbs into the passenger side and the side door slides open for you to get in. Charlie introduces you to the driver, Kie and points behind her saying that the two boy's names were Pope and JJ. Pope was studying from some book and JJ was finishing rolling a joint.

Pope looks up from his book and offers you his hand. "pleased to meet you" "Same here" You shake the boys hand and chuckle at him trying to read in the dark.

You offer your hand to JJ but shuffles around trying to do a two handed task with only one hand. You apologize and he ends up giving you the typical dude-bro sup nod, which you return. JJ tries to offer the blunt to the entire car, pope refusing, saying something keeping a channel clear? Clean? Kie said no because she's driving, Charlie says no thank you but you say yes and you could see the surprise on JJ's face.

When you get there you have to buy tickets at the front booth. Kie bought the boys their tickets and you bought Charlie's for all of her help.

You didn't plan on sticking together, so you push through the crowd and you go up to the point of were the mosh pit would eventually start. To your surprise everyone followed you through. Once the main band came on the pit opened and you felt the freedom you were desperate to feel after this move. It was good to be in the pit, no one knew names and no one really paid attention to faces. You could be anyone you wanted to be during this time. How you looked while dancing didn't matter, there was some guys on the floor scooting around pretending to be in a row boat. You felt safe even though there was nothing but chaos. People were always polite and looked out for girls in the pit. During one of the heavier songs there was a circle pit opening and you started to run. You lost footing, clumsy as always, but there were veiny tan arms around your waste as soon as you started falling.

"I got you" JJ tries to not yell too loud in your ear. Where his hands were, your skin immediately turned into fire. It felt like his hands were burning into your skin. You have never felt such electricity from another being ever before. You were speechless, as you two just met. You could just nod in response.

After the song ended, you went to get a water, not being in a concert for a while took more out of you than you expected. You saw JJ coming up next to you, and you shout make it two. You pay for the waters and he walks to go outside, making sure you are following him.

"Hey, Y/N, right?" JJ asks after drinking almost half of the water bottle at once. "Thank you very much for the water"

"It was the least I could do, you saved me from being boot mush." You chuckled at yourself, couldn't you at-least try to sound cooler.

"I heard you just moved here, Charlie is a good friend of Kie, Charlie is a good friend of yours, by proximity you are close with Kie. I protect my friends." there was a darkness in JJ's eyes, a different shade than before. The color did something to your heart but shook the feeling off. You just met this boy, take it easy. In this light you could see his lip had a scab on it, which was now bleeding.

"Hey, did that happen in there?" You point to your lip as he goes to swipe his own.

"Fuck, no, it just opened back up. Im tougher then that a circle pit isn't going to make me bleed" JJ chuckles and rolls his eyes, flexing his muscles through a grey long sleeve t-shirt. Which is he now using the hem as a napkin to brush some blood away.

"Lets head back" JJ nods to the entrance doors, holding one for you.

You knew you would follow this man named JJ anywhere and you just met him. You wanted to know where JJ got that busted lip from. You wanted to know more about this group. The way JJ talked about his group, it felt like it could be the family you have always wanted.

What else could come with this move? This might have been the best choice you have ever made in your entire life.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj poppunk #morphwrites #obxstuff

[lettrespromises]

#LettresPromises informs you : You have one notification.

──➤ Atsumu Miya sent you a letter, would you like to read it?

the author sent a letter : ❝dear reader, first and foremost, i’m terribly sorry for being inactive— university and entrance exams are choking me in the least kinky way possible. so, in order to make myself forgiven, i shall deliver you a sinful atsumu letter. sealed with a kiss, nikki. P.S: sending tons of love to @newfriendjen​ for taking some of her precious type to beta-read this letter, thank you so much once again, you’re an angel!❞

──➤ Prompt used : A letter inspired by the song “Maneater” by Nelly Furtado— as Atsumu comes back from a volleyball-related trip, he’s greeted by the most enticing sight : yourself, on the bed, wearing the set of lingerie he had specifically bought for you. Atsumu knows he has you all to himself, or so he thinks? A battle for dominance caught between two lovers with prideful hearts. ─➤ Genre : Smut. ➤ Warnings : MINORS DO NOT READ THIS, 18+ ONLY. Switch reader and switch Atsumu, sexual intercourse, cunnilingus, cursing, degradation (both reader and Atsumu), overstimulation, daddy kink, mistress kink, vaginal penetration. 

There are three rules to being a man-eater : make them spend hard, make them fall on their knees and make them fall real hard in love.

The first rule came natural, a flick of your hair accompanied by a sensually calculated flutter of your eyelashes was enough to make him bend under your charms, as if the requests leaving your lips had been laced with a spell rendering him unable to deny your demand. After all, Atsumu Miya would give you anything on a silver plate and more if it meant he could hear you say his name. He was particularly fond of the way you’d drag the last syllable of his name with the pad of your thumb gracing your lower lip, giving you the grandeur of a faux innocent façade, it was this meticulous marriage of faux innocence and lust that would, each time, sign his own end.

And yet again, he had dived head first into the abyss of your charms— not that he ever regretted it, the grin on your face and the gleam shining in the corner of your irises was the greatest reward he could have ever possibly asked for. 

Atsumu had come home from yet another trip, a volleyball-related trip that is. He had the thoughtful habit of sending you different kinds of presents while he was away, hoping that the presence of these gifts would make up for the lack of his own presence. There was always a note attached to each package, if it was lingerie he often wrote something along the lines of how he’d wish time would fly faster so he could bask in the glory of your body, take mental pictures of how the red of the lace embraced your body so divinely well that he was convinced you were a muse  taken from a renaissance painting who had come to life.

Whenever he’d come home, his first reflex was always to head straight to his room— because he was positive that he’d find you there either way.

And bingo. There you were, clothed in the latest set of lingerie he had sent you while he was abroad. Atsumu had an idea of how said set would look on you from the pictures he had seen online, but never did he once think that it would look that good. After all, you always exceeded his expectations. 

A set so sophisticated, he had picked a black set this time (surely because his subconscious associated the color to the color of the Black Jackals and it was enough to send a rush of blood downwards at the thought of it) and, much to his pleasure, it left so little to the imagination. The fabric covering your breasts was transparent if it wasn’t for the embroidered flowers right above your nipples. Unbeknownst to him, Atsumu’s gaze had been stuck on the way your buds were peaking through the fabric whilst the back of his mind already imagined scenarios where he’d let his mouth would latch onto your breast to earn some of the moans he knew all too well but could never get enough of.

His throat tightened a bit when his eyes went south— the panties matched the bra, albeit the presence of the flowers were missing this time, allowing him to drink in the sight of your core already glistening with lust. He hadn’t missed the way you were seated on the edge of his bed either, legs already spread apart like a silent invitation for him to let those thoughts that would make a demon blush be set free, or the way your back was paying homage to a crescent moon from how arched it was. Fuck. 

« You like what you see, baby? » The words left your lips in a suggestive tone.

He blinked once, then twice, to set himself free from the torment of his thoughts. « Is this all for me? » He questioned, taking a few steps forward to reduce the space between the both of you. 

Alas, he was stopped by the red sole of the heels (courtesy of the expertise of Louboutin) planted on his lower abs. « What do you think you’re doing? On your knees. »

« Wh-… On my knees? » The smirk plastered across his facial features had fallen low into a look of disbelief. 

« Didn’t you get in the first time? On your knees. Now. » You repeated, the imperative tone of your voice becoming clearer. 

The second rule to being a man-eater was to make them fall on their knees.

He sunk down to his knees as told, his eyesight facing directly your clothed core he so badly wanted to have a taste of. Your taste was like an addiction, not that he was interested in finding some kind of antidote anyways. Atsumu didn’t even notice the way his tongue was swiping across his lower lip in anticipation for the future sinful deeds he was bound to do.

Seeing he was stuck in a daze of lust, you just had to earn his attention back. How dare he not pay attention to you? With the help of your index and middle finger, you began to stroke your clothed core in vertical motions, a slow and methodic pattern to entice him even more and make him sink even more into an abyss of dark thoughts.

« Do you want it? Do you want to eat me out, mhm? » You half-questioned, already knowing the answer to your question was going to be positive.

Although he thought it was impossible, his throat tightened even more, the constriction of lust preventing him from forming any kind of a sentence, hence why he nodded instead of ridiculing himself with broken words.

« Cat’s got your tongue? » 

« Lemme’ eat you out, please. » He replied after gathering enough strength to form a ‘normal’ sentence.

« Please who? » You demanded, leaning forwards to cradle his jaw.

« Fuck… Please mistress. » The words sounded so bitter, the price to pay to reach nirvana.

The way you had leaned back, propped on your elbows to obtain some kind of leverage, was a silent way to invite him to get a taste of yourself. Both of his palms roamed on the plush flesh of your thighs caging him into the sweetest hold, until his fingers reached the bands on the side of the panties which had been lingering on his mind more than he’d ever admit. Controlled by his unquenchable thirst to let his tastebuds be blessed by the sweet taste of your juices, Atsumu used his strength for good measure by ripping the fabric apart— a distinct testimony of the hunger casting a dark cloud over his irises.

And at this very moment, right when the fabric of your panties fell into an abyss of oblivion, Atsumu knew that the gates of heaven had finally opened up to him— his orbs were frenetic, trying to catch a glimpse of each centimeter of your body awaiting to be cherished by his lips and worshipped by his tongue, and you could’ve sworn his pupils had dilated when his gaze landed on your core, glistening in all of its lustful glory.

« You like what you see, don’t you? » You teased, knowing damn well the answer was written all over his face.

« I love it, I fuckin’ love it, mistress. » Atsumu answered, the desire to get a taste of you almost burning him alive.

You couldn’t help but smile at his awful lack of self-control, but oh well, at least he had the benefit of having tried… But was trying ever really enough? Your palm fell flat on his cranium, digits tangling with his bleached blonde locks that could rival the brightest rays of sunshine. « Go ahead… You have my permission. »

Those were the words Atsumu had been waiting to hear ever since he stepped foot in his bedroom, the words that triggered another wave of hunger in the pit of his stomach— in fact, said words had triggered the beginning of the end for him. And worst of all, he was aware of his own fatalist fate.

In a flash, the not-so foreign sensation of Atsumu’s mouth paving a trail of forbidden kisses from your inner thighs to your core awakened chills that ran down your spine. And there it was— the absolute devotion of his body to yours. He knew this was no place for teasing, the word reigning supreme here was ‘pleasure’, and he couldn’t allow to break the rules and not give his mistress what she desired, correct?

Like a man starved who was bound to eat his very last meal on Earth, Atsumu jumped head-first into a pool of lust and flattened his tongue to draw a long and fat lick of your core that would, for sure, coat all of his tastebuds with your taste. Fuck, this was heaven on Earth. He used his index and middle finger to spread your folds, thus obtaining a better view of your core and a clearer path to execute away the ministrations that would make a demon blush.

Kitten licks collecting any bits of remaining juice, sucking motions on your oh so sweet bundle of nerves that would be the key to your future orgasms, shoving his tongue directly into your hole that was clenching each time the tip of his tongue graced your inside— wasn’t he being such a sweet boy?

But it seems Atsumu had pulled out a fifth ace out of his sleeve when the same two digits that were spreading your folds open had taken a dive south to meet your core. He was getting drunk on the sight of seeing his fingers disappearing, inch by inch, into your hole that was clenching around him, a testimony of pleasure that was as clear as day.

Your back arched once more like the curve of a moon shining amidst a constellation, an iron grip maintained Atsumu in place and, at times, moved him a bit around when he was hitting that sweet spot that would make you cry out in pleasure. « Fuck, Atsumu! Nghh, right here, oh fuck, here! » 

And so he did as told— he pumped his fingers in and out of your core and let his tongue flicker some more over your bundle of nerves with a newfound purpose, the most lustful yet most rewarding one of them all, making you come undone. 

It wasn’t your first shared rodeo, and after quite a handful of experiences, Atsumu had gained enough knowledge to know when your body was about to give in to the sins of pleasure. He analyzed everything, knowing like the back of his hand how your moans would gain a higher pitch, how your hold on his hair would tighten more and more and how your breathing was gradually becoming more irregular. « Fuck, fuck— ah, fuck! I’m gonna, ‘gonna c-cum! »

And before the words had fully left your mouth, you were hit with ceaseless waves of pleasure that washed all over you, sending you into a state of pure bliss where you could discern stars behind your closed lid, much to Atsumu’s greatest pleasure. The latter hadn’t missed a bit, and as soon as the first drops of the awaited elixir of pleasure had poured from your clenching core, his tongue was quick to lick your entire cunt clean— he wasn’t the one to waste your sweet cum, after all. 

Atsumu could’ve sworn that he could’ve come undone from the taste of your cum only, and the crimson shade of the tip of his cock, aching from an enticing marriage of pain and pleasure, seemed to prove this point even further. « Fuck, you taste so good. So, so good, mistress. »

The tip of his tongue had cleaned the last remaining bits of cum on the corners of his lips, tasting once more what he’d define as the sweetest poison on Earth whilst you were completely sent into a post-orgasm daze, eyes blurry from the pearls of tears that had threatened to fall earlier.

Your gaze was stuck on the ceiling, causing you to miss the ill-intentioned grin that had crept across Atsumu’s facial traits. « Are we going to play this game longer, huh? ‘Kinda tired of playing your personal slut. » He trailed off, his body now hovering over yours. « We all know for a fact that if there’s a slut here, it’s you, and you’re all fuckin’ mine. » He whispered right in the crook of your ear, having chosen to reduce the space between your ear and his lips to send chills down your spine. 

« Atsumu… » You breathed out, barely recognizing your own voice from how weak it sounded. 

« Two can play this little game of yours, ya’ know? But… We’re gonna play under my rules now. So start calling me by my name. » Words coated with lust fell straight into your eardrum. « My real name, doll. » He added, this time with a deeper tone.

It was the last warning he had given you before crashing his lips onto yours, tongue barely waiting half a second to force its way in your own mouth where your two tongues clashed in harmony. Despite your state, you still put up a fight against his pink muscle, well decided to win this fight for supremacy by tugging him closer by the neck. 

« Dirty little thing, you never know when to quit, do you, huh? » He breathed out against your lips, a trail of saliva connecting your mouths. 

« Fuck you, Atsumu. You wish I’d give you what you want! » You barked back, bringing him closer to shut him up with yet another kiss.

« Weren’t you just cumming on my mouth, like, two minutes ago? C’mon, I haven’t even fucked you stupid yet and you’re already losing your damn mind? » He seethed, deciding to shut you up on his own terms by planting his pearly whites into the yet untouched flesh of your neck where, later on, a bouquet of scarlet and plum love bites would bloom.

Atsumu created a path of open-mouthed kisses, intercut with repetitions of « mine » between each kiss, that led to the valley of your breasts. His hands were quick to set you free (quite the euphemism because he decided, much like your panties, to rip your bra apart) from the poor piece of fabric that was separating him from your breasts. 

There again, he wasted no time sending another urge of pleasure coursing through your veins as his mouth was quick to latch onto your breast— the hypnotic rolling motions of his tongue and the small bites left on your nipple caused a flow of moans to fall free from your mouth. « Make those sounds for me, c’mon, don’t go shy on me now, princess. » He mused before giving the same treatment to your other breast while he was pinching your other nipple with his fingers, rolling it until it hurt pleasurably to the touch.

The whines and moans falling like a cascade from your lips had always been something he will never get tired of, it was like the best of rewards, that and seeing your face contorted by pleasure. 

He knew damn well your core was still leaking from your previous orgasm, and prepping it once more would only please you too much, and now that the roles had reversed, he was not bound to give you what you wanted anymore.

His digits wrapped around his cock, throbbing in anticipation and the tip as red as ever and a trail of pre-cum was leaking down the side of his girth. Atsumu gave it a few experimental pumps, using his fingers to spread the pre-cum all over his cock although he knew that he didn’t need much of a lubricant given how soaked you were. « C’mon, Atsumu, don’t tease me! » You whined. 

« Huh? What did you just call me? » He asked, ceasing the pumping motions on his cock which let you know that if you were to call him by the wrong name again, he’d just leave you on your own. 

« Fuck you… Don’t tease me, please, Daddy. » You breathed out.

« See? Dirty sluts like you can turn into good girls. » He grinned at your obedience before resuming to his antics. 

The tip of his cock was teasing your core, letting the tip run over your folds and your clit to give you a taste of the pleasure you were going to go through. And then it hit, the gradual pleasure conquering each inch of your body as he slid inch by inch the length of his cock inside your throbbing hole that was already sucking him like a vice. « Fuck, fuck you’re tight. » 

The sudden stretch caused a moan to erupt from your lips in response to the sudden presence amongst your walls. The way your body responded to every experimental inch drilled within you earned a light groan out of him each time, that is until he managed to push his entire girth inside of you, you mutually reacted to the overwhelming sensation by a choked breath, as if every ounce of oxygen had been knocked out of your lungs. 

And then it was a crescendo— not only regarding the rhythm of his hypnotic thrusts which never failed to cause the sudden appearance of a soft sound of pleasure from bursting out of your lips, but also regarding the rising level of ecstasy and pure bliss in your lower belly : the forming knots became a bit tighter with each slap of his testicles against your derrière and the stars shining behind your closed lids became a bit clearer with each thrust, sending you straight into a daze where you failed to tell the difference between reality and lustful dreams. « D-Daddy, please, ahh! Fuck me so good, fuck me so good… » You breathed out between moans.

You couldn’t help but dig your nails into the flesh of his upper arm which provoked a groan out of him, crimson colored trails colored his skin and the red tone of pleasure married the tone of his skin so effortlessly, as if your marks had always belonged on his skin. 

« Who’s making you feel this fuckin’ good? Who does this wet cunt of yours belong to, slut? » Atsumu grunted, a trail of curses leaving his lips in the process. His perpetual quest of pleasure was ceaseless, never once stopping to fill his lungs with clear oxygen. Every thrust spoke volume, and said volume growing louder and louder with each passing second and each thrust given as an offering to the deities of lust. « Y-You, daddy! No one.. Fuuck, n-no one else! »

«Fuck, baby! ‘M gonna cum in that tight pussy of yours, better get every single drop for Daddy, fuck, fuck, fuck! » His lips were glued to yours, careless to allow you the right to breathe and that was all due to the lust that consumed him as he could already fill the welcoming breezes of his approaching climax against his skin. 

The tip of his girth was kissing the panel of nerves designed for pleasure, each thrust caressing your cervix was as addictive as the last one. It signed the end of you, sealed the fatalist fate where you were bound to unleash a second orgasm although your body had barely recovered from the first one. This crescendo of lust had drawn more pleasure that your body could possibly handle, forced more reactions that your mind could follow. 

Speaking of the latter, it was pitch black, and not even a beacon of hope had the chance to shine through the void of your thoughts, pierce through the darkness emanating from the open gates of your subconscious. Only unintelligible sounds that echoed to pleasure left your parted lips, head tilted to the side with a string of drool creating a humid stain on the pillow. 

And then it hit you, your body had manifested the overdose of ecstasy for a second time, draining the last bits of energy you ignored you had. A dragged moan of his name, his real name, had left your lips at the occasion whilst the hand settled on his forearm had slid down on the mattress, taken away by the sudden exhaustion.

Atsumu’s salute came in the form of one final slam of his hips against your cunt dripping with the marriage of your juices and, after having colored the blank canvas of your walls with the color of sin, his own. « Good girl, see? See how nice you are when you obey? ‘Made a real mess, didn’t’cha? » He swore to himself that he could have come undone a second time at the sight of the cum leaking from your hole, pathetically clenching around his girth as he was pulling away from your hole. 

Your breathing was everything but regular, oxygen seemed to fade away as soon as it entered your system and your brain fogged by this persistent daze of lust wasn’t helping much. Obey? The same word was kept on loop in your mind from the moment he had said it. « Atsumu, I thought you knew me better than that. » You breathed out, bowing your lips into an ill-intentioned grin at the idea that had just blossomed in your mind. Obey? Very well.

« What are you on about? » He interrogated, brow quirked up to emphasize his question.

With the leverage given by the support of your elbows, you managed (as efficiently as someone who’s had two orgasms in a row, that is) to get back on your knees, and before Atsumu knew it, you were sitting on your self-claimed throne in the middle of his lap, right where his erection was still poking your entrance. You had essentially caged him with your luscious thighs, the sweetest hold he could’ve asked for despite what his face may say. « ‘The hell are y’doin’? » He asked once more, growing impatient by the second.

« Raising your voice at me? » You mused, sarcasm lacing your every word. « Very well, then. » You added, shoving your index and middle finger in his mouth to prevent him from spilling any more absurdities— you were not one bit surprised to see Atsumu quickly warming up to the not-so foreign presence of your fingers in his mouth, his pink muscle coating your digits with his saliva. « Good boy. See how nice you are when you obey? » Atsumu’s pupils dilated even more under the spell of lust when he realized you had twisted his own words in your favor.

Atsumu wanted to scoff, to shove you off and regain the monopoly of control once more but the way you were enticing him into a game of back-and-forth, a constant fight for supremacy, made him crave you even more. He hated it, and loved it at the same time.

How convenient that the tip of cock, still reddened by pleasure and coated with a veil of sinful cum, was grazing the curve of your derrière. One could say that this position was almost… Strategic, mhm? However, just sinking down on his girth in a heartbeat would be giving Atsumu what he wanted on a silver plate, with a supplement of moans and whines on top of it. 

« If you like control so much… » You trailed off, leaning to the side just a bit to reach the night stand right next to his bed where, of course, he’d hide his precious collection of toys devoted to pleasure. Your orbs scanned a bit, hands swimming through the myriad of strap-ons and others cock-rings with flashing colors, only to find the holy Graal in the form of metal-like handcuffs.

« You’re gonna love this, then. » You said, dangling from left to right the object of his torture, Atsumu’s eyes followed each motion of the handcuffs in a hypnotic manner, ready to be sent into a substate of delirium. 

« Hands. » You demanded, the imperative tone coloring your words provoked a whimper of anticipation out of him. « Good boy. » you praised, taking one hand after the other and locking each of them to the bedding, tugging just a bit on his wrists to see if the material would resist just in case Atsumu would put up a fight— but he’s such a good and obedient boy, he would never dare cross the limits you have drawn yourself.

« Who’s my good boy? » Words filled with such sweetness hidden behind a mirage of lust, like a poisoned apple of some sorts, fell straight into his eardrums. Atsumu’s mouth was set agape, believing for one second that he had forgotten how to talk properly. « ’S me, I’m your good boy, mistress. » So sweet, you couldn’t resist letting your hand envelope his cheek in a caring manner.

« Mh, what do you want mistress to do to you, my pretty boy? » More enchanting words lingered in the air, echoing like the fallen promises of the sirens to lure martyrs into the depth of lust. « I want… » He began, pupils dilating further upon observing your hands caressing all over his chest and abdomen region, feeling each bump created by his muscles. « I want mistress to fuck me, fuck me so hard ‘till she milks me dry. » He breathed out.

« And why do you want that? » You cooed, reducing dangerously the space between your lips and his own, your breasts pressed against the muscles of his chest. « … ‘Cause I’m your good boy, a-and your dirty slut. » He looked at you almost hesitantly, wondering if he had chosen the right wording.

The ill-intentioned grin painted across your face seemed to be the confirmation that, yes, Atsumu had said the magic words that had been housed inside the deepest, darkest parts of your subconscious. « That’s right, my dirty little slut. » 

You retreated your hips backwards, your gaze never once daring to leave his face and how his facial traits were already torn with pleasure. His hips had buckled at the degradation falling from your lips, sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through his veins in a heartbeat— he was so receptive to your words and touch, it was almost pathetic. « You’re so impatient, aren’t you? But good sluts deserved so be fucked so well, too. ‘Want me to ride your cock until you can’t take it anymore, mh? ‘Want me to make you cum? » You mocked as the pad of your thumb was brushing in circular motions the tip of his cock, you’d continue this torture until the sacred words would fall from his lips with pity drooling from every syllable. « P-Please… Fuck, mistress, milk me dry… Fuck me like there’s no tomorrow. My cock’s— Ahh, shit, shit, shit! My c-cock’s yours, mistress. » 

He had begged so well, his pleas were on a loop like a broken record on your mind, getting drunk on the feeling of pity exuding his every pore shamelessly. You laid both of your hands flat on his lower abdomen to obtain some leverage, enough to tease him by gliding the angry scarlet shade of his cock in vertical motions against your folds. « Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, please! » He pleaded once more, and as the words had died on his tongue like a secret prayer, you sank your hips down in a swift motion without warning. 

Atsumu felt like every ounce of oxygen had left his lungs, as if his brain had ceased to function for a moment because he was secretly persuaded that he had seen a glimpse of heaven as your derrière ascended onto his cock begging to be used for good measure, begging to have its flow of cum be leaked into the tight grip of your walls, begging to feel resurgences of pleasure over and over again until his mind couldn’t keep up anymore and until becoming a whining, stuttering, drooling mess fucked stupid.

And then it began again, the ascension to heaven— a path he knew all too well, a path adorned with your name written in the finest gold lettering infused with the most sinful essence, a path illuminated by your face contorted in pleasure. The mere thought of it alone was enough to send him in overdrive.

The repetition of your hips gliding the girth of his cock was enough to make his tongue peak through the corner of his lips, not that he could muster enough force to shut his mouth anyways. But it was fine, so fine, because you were at the center of the echoes of his moans. 

« C’mon, baby! Be my good boy, ah fuck, fuck! Good little slut! » You breathed out, neck tilted to face the ceiling in ecstasy. Atsumu wasn’t following much, the sight of you riding him alongside your breasts bouncing frenetically to the rhythm of your vertical motions was the greatest of gifts.

And on the other one hand, the greatest of gifts, for you, was being able to see him so weak and vulnerable, unable to put enough strength into his thrusts which led you to completely take control, unable to refrain any sound of pleasure from leaving the frontiers of his lips. « Ahh, fuck! Fuck me…! Fuck me! Nghh! » And there you were, drinking his enticing pleas. 

Your fingertips left hot crimson trails on the skin of his abdomen, true testimonies of the pure essence of ecstasy coursing through your veins. Your breaths were growing more erratic, oftentimes they were cut with your own moans too. « Wanna’ cum, pretty boy? W-Wanna cum for your Mistress? »

« Please, please! P-Please just lemme’ fuckin’ cum in you! Lemme’... Fill your pretty cunt! » He breathed out in response.

Those were the sole little words you needed to quicken the pace of your ascensions, the latter caused Atsumu’s moans to grow more high-pitched. Although you couldn’t see it, you were entirely convinced that the tip of his cock had never been more rouge, he was breathing out pleas but ignored why on the long run, fully sent into a state of overstimulation. 

« A-Atsumu! Cum with me! » And the magic of performative language happened, the familiar feeling of the warmth of his white shots of cum invaded in the sweetest way your velvety walls, coating them with sins and passion. 

An elongated whimper fell free from your lips as it announced your own end, your own orgasm had been triggered with the one last fatal pump that untied all the metaphorical knots in your lower abdomen. Such a blissful sensation that never grew old, especially when Atsumu was the reason behind it all. 

But alas, as soon as you had touched Nirvana with your fingertips, fatality hit you in the back— you found yourself deprived of your energy, feeling as if all the oxygen had been knocked off of your lungs, and your mind was caught in a daze which projected nothing but a white veil.

« Baby… You did so good, so, so good... » Your words fell like hot whispers against his chest, your sudden lack of energy had caused you to fall limp onto his chest while you were still cockwarming him. 

Atsumu blinked once, then twice, only to realize that the pleasure that had enveloped him was very much real— and so were you. « Fuck that was good… » He whispered in response, not daring to move one bit because he knew his muscles would never forgive him for doing so. « You’re an angel, y’know that? » His gaze fell on you, the softest hint of a grin adorned his facial features.

You couldn’t help but release a hush giggle at his answer « How dare you calling me an angel after all of that, hm? »

This time, it was his time to mimic you by giving life to his own giggle, « Hey, the devil was the most beautiful angel once… Or something like that, ‘dunno. » He grinned, keeping the groans of pain locked in his throat as he managed to lay his palm against your cheek— his touch was so familiar, leaning into his palm came natural.  « But I didn’t know the devil came in sexy lingerie though. »

Oh, to you, dear victim of a maneater : you know you would do anything to keep them by your side, because when they say they love you, they love you long time.

#atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu hcs #atsumu smut #atsumu hc #atsumu miya #atsumu hq #hq!! x reader #haikyuu smut #atsumu fic #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu hc #atsumu oneshot

[glitterbootsharry]

Two- Witchy Woman

Disclaimer: I do not know much about witchcraft or anything associated with it besides the few tv shows and movies I have seen. If I have gotten anything wrong or mixed up, please feel free to let me know. I want to get as much right as I can as I have done some research, but I know I do not know a lot.

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I bite at my thumb pad as I look my dilemma in the eye and time is running out. Rowan will be here soon, and after making the last clean up check, I decide that my bleached tee isn’t good enough for the small study session. Two button up shirts lay on my bed, covering the blue plaid quilt my mum bought me when I first moved out- she cried as she pressed the nonexistent wrinkles out of the thick fabric with her hands, tucking the corners neatly under the mattress. My eyes divert between the two. They’re the same, in reality, just inverted colors of the other. The white droplets on the black silk. The black droplets on the white silk. I walk over to my top drawer and search for the matching neck scarf that I insisted on buying, giving my older sister another reason to roll her eyes at me. I hear a sudden knock on my front door and in haste, I pull out my answer to my dilemma.

“Coming,” I call out, buttoning the white droplet shirt. I ruffle my long curly hair before rushing to the front door, my shirt half-buttoned.

I turn the knob, holding my breath as I watch Rowan come into view. Her hair is pulled into a neat ponytail hoisted high on her head and she’s wearing a black graphic tee that her sleeves rolled up. “Hi,” my voice croaks as she stands outside my flat door with her backpack on her shoulders. The black velvet chicken lays across her throat as it tighter as she smiles softly at me with her mouth parts slowly.

“Hi.” My hand grips the brass knob tightly as I lean against the wooden door, crossing my legs in front of one another. I become all too aware of how long I look at Rowan, drinking in her brown eyes and drowning in her glowing skin. I want to stare at her all day- she could be doing nothing and I would be intrigued.

“Can I come in or are we studying out here?” She cocks her brow up at me, a sly smile forming on her mouth before I push the door open completely forgetting the reason she came here for.

“Oh, erm, yeah,” I rub the nape of my neck, embarrassed as I motion her through the doorway. She walks past me, her shoulder brushing my chest, and I smell the sweet scent of flowers. “How are you?” I close the door and follow her into my living room. It’s small, with only a couch, television and its stand and small coffee table in between the two, but it’s one of my favorite places in the flat. She sits down on the cream leather couch and begins to dig through her bag.

“I’m fine,” she says as she pulls out two copies of The Tempest. “Didn’t know if you had a copy so I grabbed one from the store. If that’s okay?” She hands me the red used book, corners of the pages slightly torn from the previous owners’ use. I suddenly feel warm as I stand in the room, all too aware of my looming presence. I sit down beside her, looking over the book before realizing that my own book is in my bedroom. “Thanks,” I hold up my gift before gently opening the cover. Inside was a new inscription from the gingerly handwriting that I have just now come in contact with.

“I owed you.”

I smiled as I turned the page and began to read the play again. I can’t help but notice how close we’re sitting next to each other, feeling the electricity nearly flying through us. I clear my throat as I try to concentrate on the printed words, but her slow breathing fills my ears. I adjust my black jeans and run my hand across the length of my jeans, wiping the slight sweat away. It was too much for any man to bear, being in the room with Rowan, let alone being this close to her. My pinky could reach over and touch the exposed skin of her knees and I’d melt into liquid. I look over at her, her brows furrowed in concentration, and I feel my heart begin to race. The black ink tattoo behind her ear is of a crescent moon and stars creeping onto her neck. “Do you want some coffee? Tea? Crisps?” I ask, finally breaking the heavy and unbearable silence between us. Rowan looks up at me, completely exasperated, and smiles softly, placing her hand in the crook of the small book with her pencil stuck in her ponytail.

“Sure,” she says, her voice melodic to my ears. Her eyes are dark when looking up at me and I feel my throat run dry and I can’t seem to watch her watching me. Normally, I’m calm and collected around women- I can chat them up all the way to my bedroom to pull my leg over, but Rowan… She makes me nervous when she walks into the room with my stomach in knots. “Whatever you have is nice. Don’t go and make a fuss because of me.”

You’re worth the fuss, I think to myself. What is going on, Styles? You’re never like this.

I shake my head and leave the living room to Rowan. The kitchen, though small, is big enough to let my thoughts out. I think Rowan’s beautiful, yes, but why am I so nervous around her? She’s just my classmate and we’re doing a project together. Calm down.

The kettle hisses at me, letting me know it’s ready and I pour it into a teapot, grab two cups placing them with sugar and milk on a small tray my absent father gave me two birthdays ago and tuck the half empty bag of crisps under my elbow. I walk back into the living room with Rowan on the phone, her voice frantic.

“You sure? Is she okay?” she asks, turning her body into the couch when she sees me. “Alright, erm, I’ll be right there. Thank you, Mary.”

She looks up at me with pleading eyes full of regret before she speaks, her voice barely above a squeak.

“I’ve got to go. It’s me Gran.” She stands and proceeds to shove her book into her bag before she walks out of my flat, but not before I place the tray down on the table with a force that I never meant to use, rattling the porcelain dishes.

“Wait, let me, at least, walk you down,” I call out, running after her as I rake my hair in frustration. I closed the door, half running after Rowan as she glided down the stairs. She’s in the car park before I can break ground. The sound of the engine spurring fills the air. She tries to turn the engine again, again, and again until I reach the opened car door.

“You’ll flood the engine that way. Be no use to you then,” I say, my smile trying to calm Rowan down. “I can take you.”

“I can’t ask that of you, Harry,” Rowan’s voice breaks, tears spilling down her face.

“You didn’t ask, love, I offered. C’mon,” I nod my head back to my flat. “Let me grab my keys and wallet and we’ll be on the way, yeah?” Rowan nods as she stands outside her car. I hear the slamming of her door when I turn to leave and a hushed, “Fuck.”

***

“It’s down there. First little dirt road on your left,” Rowan points at the small brown path that barely lets my car fit on its way. It was a quiet thirty minute drive to the small village Rowan calls home. Shere- the small town that never lets any new business go unnoticed. Rowan busied herself calling Mary again to check in, letting her know she was on the way. I pull up to a small weather worn red brick house with flowers planted in every inch of ground that could be except for the small gravel pathway that leads you to the front wooden door. Roses, tulips, daffodils, wildflowers- Rowan had every flower that one could have, but the majority of the vast arrangement of color were roses- pink, yellow, purple, red. Vines and moss creep up the brick of the house with no intention of stopping.

“You want to come in?” Rowan asks as she begins to climb out of my car. “Be a shame that you came all this way without a proper cup of tea and a thank you.”

“You want me to come in?” I ask, but Rowan pushes the front door of her home open by the time I climb out of my car. She left the front door open for me and when I walked in, the strong scent of flowers and chocolate hit my nose.

“Gran?” Rowan calls out, her eyes frantic as she walks into the front hallway. “Why don’t you wait for me in the parlor? Gran should be coming soon.” She turns her head looking back into the open sliding glass door into the back garden. “Erm, she’s got a bit of a memory problem so…” She looks back up to me, tears brimming over.

“Go,” I say, “I’ll find the parlor. Don’t worry about me.” Rowan smiles, graciously, and walks into the back garden, which unsurprisingly, has more roses and plants within eyesight. I wander around the small home, the cozy air reminding me of my childhood one, before I find the small unused parlor. Book line the walls- all the way from Poe to Everything to You Need to Know about Herbs. I run my finger over the spine of a small leather book labeled “Astarte’s Book of Shadows”. I pull it from the row, the leather claiming the books that sit next to it. It feels heavy when I finally have it in my hands and I have an urge to open it, but the feeling fades when I hear Rowan’s voice.

“Gran, you can’t do that. The cookies were burning. You scared me. What if I-“

“Ya Amar, you cannot worry about such things. I’m fine. How was your reading with that tall boy you told me about?” A sweet, but stern voice spoke back at Rowan’s concerns.

“You were sitting on the garden wall- the high one. But,” Rowan sighed. “My car wouldn’t start so he brought me. He’s in the study, Gran. Behave.” A small elderly woman that looked almost like Rowan with a crooked back turned into the room. Her skin was tanned like Rowan’s but with white long hair in a braid. Her skin, wrinkled with sun spots, was also covered with small tattoos. She looked up at me and smiled before sitting down on the blue couch that I was standing behind. I placed the black book back on the shelf and sat down beside the aging woman. I extend my hand and introduce myself.

“Harry Styles, madam.” She looks at my hand and smiles. Her fragile fingers wrap around my pinky, pulling me towards her. She places her other hand over the top of mine before speaking.

“You know she likes you too. Only one who's ever been truly nice to her. Alice Lloyd.” She lets go of my hand and laughs softly as she was in a small joke that I was unaware of.

Do what? I think. I never said…

“You didn’t have to.”

“Gran, behave.” Rowan brings three cups in one hand. I try to stand to help her, but she shoots me down. She brings an antique teapot. She gently pours tea into the three cups, smiling as she hands Alice her cup and as she hands me my own, her smile is full of gratitude.

“Quite a garden you have,” I say speaking to both women. “It’s lovely.”

“Gran started it when she moved here years ago. I just try to keep it up,” Rowan sits down into the chair opposite us. Her hair is down, small tendrils falling into her face as she blows into the small cup.

“You do more than that, ya amar. You put the new basil bush in just yesterday. Don’t sell yourself short, love,” Alice sighs before turning to me. “You from London, Harry?”

“Just outside. Holmes Chapel in Cheshire. My mum owns a pub there in town.”

“How nice,” Alice looks at my shirt and I’m all too aware that my shirt is nearly unbuttoned, exposing my two swallows on my chest and the butterfly on my torso. I clear my throat as I try to casually button the rest of my shirt. “You go to the university, as well? English major? Let me guess, you want to become a writer?”

“Gran,” Rowan’s voice is short- her eyes not faltering from her tea.

“Well, it looks like the fun for me has run out. The adventure outside has taken me so I think I’ll retire to my bedroom for the evening. Good meeting you, Harry,” Alice motions me to lean closer to her with her finger and when doing so, I feel the slight wet kiss on my cheek. I smile before speaking, “Nice meeting you Gran.”

Rowan helps her grandmother up and when they think they’re out of hearing, I hear the small whisper, “He’s got dimples, Rowan. Quite handsome. Don’t mess this up.”

I smile, my dimples evident, as I hear Rowan’s small, but grand response, my heart overwhelming with joy and wanting.

“I won’t. As long as he doesn’t.”

###

@awomanindeniall​ @sunflwr-styles​

#harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles ofc #harry styles fic #harry styles #harry 1d #1dff #1d fan fiction #harry styles poc #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic

[sincerelybubbles]

lanterns || kenma kozume

So, as I have been wanting to write Haikyuu for a while and didn’t have any idea of what to write, I went to a prompt generator and wrote the first thing that popped up:

“Their eyes met. Suddenly, they were alone in the crowd.”

Kenma x fem!reader

WC: 4k

Summary: soulmate au with kenma :)) the rest is in the prompt!

Warnings: fluff, short description of a panic attack, minor cursing 

//part two

_____________________

You were sure that your friends were going to be the death of you. Of all the ways you wanted to spend today, this was not one of them. The crowd around you was suffocating and the candy floss in your hand was sticky, the loud sounds of the festival surrounding you.

“Come on! I want to try this one!” Your friend sent you a huge smile before grabbing your wrist and dragging you to yet another game that would inevitably be impossible to win, causing her to mope for a few minutes before she found another booth she wanted to try, or more sweets she wanted to eat.

The game was a simple fishing game where you held a fishing-rod-like object with a magnet attached to it, and you had to attempt to fish out rubber ducks from the ponds. The bottom of the ducks had numbers on them corresponding with prizes lining the booths walls. Considering that it was early evening and no prizes seemed to be missing from the wall, you were pretty sure the magnets in the ducks were too weak to actually pull the ducks out of the water, but you still watched your friend and attempted to be encouraging.

She attempted three times to get a duck, before sighing and handing the pole over to you. “You try!”

You hesitantly accepted the pole and started to search for one of the smaller ducks – a smaller prize, but a better probability of actually getting the duck if your guesses from earlier were correct.

Surely enough, it only took you a few moments to grab the small duck and win a plastic cat mask from the wall, causing your friend to squeal excitedly.

“Here.” You handed it to her, but she only laughed and waved you off, telling you that since you earned it, it was yours.

You followed her around for a bit longer before she got a call. You tried not to listen as she talked, instead reading a sign advertising a fortune teller who would describe your soulmate to you in vivid detail, if you only showed her your soulmate marking.

Your soulmate marking wasn’t something you often considered. About ninety-eight percent of the population had some sort of marking or tell of some sort to help them find “the one” – red strings that attached their fingers together, count downs on their wrists, first words somewhere on their bodies, or, like you, and small tattoo somewhere on them that was uniquely matched in image and placing on your ‘other half.’

You were excited to meet your soulmate, sure, but you never let it become an obsession for you after watching many of your peers become consumed by an event that they had no control over.

Plus, there were many cases of soulmates separating, never meeting, or even just becoming close friends. The markings really only told you that the universe thought you were compatible with the other person.

You rubbed your left wrist as you watched the sign with bored eyes, contemplating what this person would be able to tell from the small blue bear on your wrist. Surely, she couldn’t tell much about them other then the fact that they also had this exact same tattoo.

“Hey, my brother tripped and sprained his ankle, so I have to walk him home. I’ll be back in like thirty minutes, I promise! Meet me at the Taiyaki booth we saw earlier, okay? Thanks!” She was gone before you were even able to suggest just seeing her at school on Monday, leaving you no choice but to wander around alone, not wanting to just ditch her with nothing but a text explaining your absence.

“Excuse me?” There was a soft tug at your sleeve, and you looked down to see a small girl looking up at you with a wide smile. Behind her was obviously her mother, giving the little girl an encouraging look and you a meek smile. “I made a whole lotta flower crowns to pass out today and – and, I think that this,” she fumbled with the flower crowns looped around her small arms for a moment before pulling out an intricate yet subtle crown and thrusting it into your hands, “this one! This one will look really pretty on you.”

Not wanting to be ruse, you took the crown and gave her a short bow, “Thank you.” You told her, sending her and her mother small smiles before placing it on your head, earning a delighted gasp and clap from the little girl.

Her mother then thanked you and took her daughters hand, leading her away while the little girl stayed turned around to wave at you.

Not knowing what else to do, you started to wander the streets of the festival, stopping at a few booths to look at anything that caught your eye.

After you bought something small for yourself, you were unsure what else to do with your time. Your friend had texted you that she would probably be another twenty minutes as she had to run to the store for medicine for her brother, apologizing too many times for one text. You answered her assuring her that it was fine, despite the fact that the longer you were alone in the large crowd of loud people, the more uncomfortable you were becoming.

Wary of a panic attack in the middle of the festival that would only become worse with the embarrassment that it would bring, you moved to the outskirts of the crowd and found the only empty bench for as far as you could see. You sat on your own for a bit, incredibly glad that you had the foresight to bring your headphones so that you could listen to music and escape the noise of people laughing and talking loudly. At some point, you noticed someone sitting on the same bench on the far side of you. You scooted over politely, giving them more room before taking out your phone to give yourself something to do with your hands.

“Hey,” You glanced up at the call from the guy sitting on the bench next to you. He had black hair and seemed to be your age, “where did you win that?” He nodded at the mask sitting on your thigh.

“This?” You asked, holding it up and examining it at his nod. “Um, the rubber duck game further up that way.” You told him, motioning further into the festival.

“It reminds me of someone I know – the face at least.” He explained, shooting you a smile.

The face painted on the mask looked bored, unconcerned with anything.

“I think we all know people who are kind of like this.” You commented, brushing your thumb across the cat’s eye, contemplating telling the guy he could have it.

You weren’t expecting him to laugh. “Really? What makes you say that?”

“Well, isn’t there always someone who seems unbothered by everything? Kind of expressionless?” You shrugged, “It’s not really a bad thing, just something I’ve noticed – there’s always someone who looks bored, no matter where you go.”

You weren’t quite sure what suddenly made you so talkative to this stranger, but the conversation flowed easily. He contemplated your words for a moment before nodding.

“Well, from my experience, those people may just be reserved, not just bored. Maybe they just don’t really like having everything written all over their face.”

“Sounds like you know quite a few people who this reminds you of. . . do you want it? I won it for my friend, but she didn’t want to keep it.” You handed the mask out to him and he took it after a moment.

“Nah, just one. But thank you.” A slow smile crossed his face as he looked over your shoulder, standing up and holding the mask over his head. “Hey! Look what I found!” He held out the mask to whoever was behind you and waved it around. “It looks just like you!”

You turned around to see a boy with bleached blonde hair walking toward you, squinting his eyes at the mask the black-haired boy was waving around. Not wanting to be caught staring, you pulled out your phone again, seeing that your friend had texted and asked for you to call her.

“Hello?” You asked after hearing the line pick up.

“Hey! So, he twisted his foot really badly, and it’s pretty swollen. I think I might take him to the doctor. I’m really sorry to bail on you – after making you wait and everything!” Your friend started wailing about how sorry she was, to leave you and not get to eat any Taiyaki.

“It’s okay.” You assured her, “And I can bring you Taiyaki on my way home.” All for the better you thought. Despite being away from the crowd, it was still draining you.

“Okay! You’re the best, can you bring it over at like nine when you leave?”

“Um, I don’t know if I’ll be here that long.” You admitted to her, now noticing that the black-haired boy was attempting to wrangle the cheap mask onto his friend’s face, his friend pushing him away.

“You have to stay to light a lantern!” Your friend was insisting from the phone. “Plus, we’re leaving right now, so if you drop off the food now, it’ll go bad sitting on my doorstep. Please!” She drug out her peas, making you sigh.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll light a lantern for you too then, I’ll see you later.” You hung up before she could make you promise to do anything else, and you began to tuck your headphones away.

“Damn it! It broke!” You glanced up to see that the mask in the black-haired boys’ hands had in fact cracked and the blond boy was now on his phone, reading something. Suddenly, the black-haired boy’s head whipped up to look at you. “Hey, you. Do you think you could win another one of these? Or at least tell me how you did?”

In that moment, you knew that there was a high probability that, despite looking your age, this boy might not be. And it probably wasn’t smart to spend any more time with him. But he seemed friendly enough and you really didn’t want to spend the rest of your night alone. Plus, his friend didn’t seem too overwhelming and if you got uncomfortable, it wasn’t hard to fake a call.

So, you nodded.

Excitedly, he smiled at you, “Nice! I’m Kuroo Tetsurou, this is Kenma Kozume.” He gestured to his friend beside him, “The bored-cat-mask guy.”

Nodding, you introduced yourself before Kuroo happily lead you to where you gestured before in the crowd.

“We’re second years at Nekoma High.” Your eyes widened as you fumbled to catch up to Kuroo again.

“Me too, year 2, class 5.” You told him, motioning to the booth with a sort line leading up to it.

“We’re in year 2, class 2.” You nodded, understanding how you had never seen him as you were in two different classes and you tended to eat in your room with a few friends rather then face the loud cafeteria. “So, how do you win this?”

You explained to him briefly your guess about the weighted ducks, noting him nodding along, examining your face carefully.

“You’re pretty smart then, huh? Come to think of it, isn’t 2-5 college prep?” You flushed slightly, nodding.

“I wouldn’t say it was that hard to figure out though, it’s just that most of these games are rigged so that they make a profit.” You explained as you reached the booth.

Kuroo bought the tickets and insisted on trying to do it himself. You noticed his friend was still there, playing on his phone, eyes blocked by his hair.

After a few attempts at catching the small ducks, you noticed the festival growing more and more crowded as it got closer to night. The main event of this festival was the lantern lighting that started in about an hour, so it wasn’t much of a surprise, but the amount of people was slowly starting to grate on you.

Your friends typically calmed you in situations like these. They knew of your hatred for loud crowds, and constantly encouraged you to try and push past it while also offering a calming, friendly presence as you did so. You were sure that your friend had forgotten just how bad it could get because you hadn’t gotten freaked out in a while. Plus, she as probably more worried about her brother than anything else, so you couldn’t really blame her.

Plus, you were old enough to get through this alone. You should be at least.

“Hey, are you busy for the rest of the festival?” You turned to see that Kuroo was holding a different version of the same cheap plastic mask you had before, and he was looking at you with a kind smile. “I heard a bit of your conversation, and you can hang out with us until the lanterns later, if you want.”

“Uh, sure, thank you.” You accepted after a brief hesitation. You figured being with someone, even a stranger, would be better then being alone with your thoughts overwhelming you. “Did they not have any more of the other mask?” You asked as the three of you started walking, Kenma walking on the other side of Kuroo then you.

“Nah, but it’s okay. I like this one too.” He held it up for you to see, and you noted the smiling cat painted on the plastic with a polite nod. “So,” He asked after a moment. “Are you in any clubs?”

You answered him before returning the question, then listened for the next five minutes as he talked about volleyball, inviting you to come and watch a game sometime.

“Uh, sure.” You agreed, knowing that you probably wouldn’t. You were sure that any kind of sports games involved loud, crowded spaces – something you were actually trying very hard not to think about right now.

After another few moments of walking around and getting to know Kuroo better, he excused himself to go to the bathroom, calling over his shoulder that he would meet you two near where the lanterns were and leaving you and Kenma standing in the middle of the crowded street, the light rapidly fading.

You spared an awkward glance to the blonde at your side only to find him typing something on his phone, looking uncomfortable from the small bit of his face that you could see.

“Do you, uh, want to head that way? Get a few lanterns, or get in line, or something?” Kenma nodded and you started walking after taking a moment to realize that he probably wasn’t going to look up at you.

Anyone else might have found him rude, but you were too focused on the fact that you couldn’t see anything other then people, and they were loud, and bumping into you every step you took, making your chest feel tight and your vision darken.

Somewhere near you, a child screamed, causing you to jump at the sudden loud noise.

You felt like sweat was pouring nonstop from your palms, and your heart was racing. You didn’t think that you were ever going to reach the end of the people.

Forgetting about Kenma, you shoved your way through the crowd and off of the street, searching in vain for an area without people where you could hopefully try and learn how to breathe again.

A hand gripped your wrist and started pulling you. You fought for a moment before feeling completely exhausted and letting it. It took you a few seconds of being pulled, and then you were behind a booth and your wrist was dropped.

The sound was slightly more muffled here, and there were no people. You threw yourself to the ground and let your head hand between your knees, suddenly aware that you were crying and that you were gasping for breath.

“Are you okay?” A quiet voice asked after a moment. You looked up and met Kenma’s eyes. Suddenly, you were alone in the crowd. For a moment, you only examined the golden, cat-like eyes staring at you, before coming to your senses and nodding.

“Yeah. Uh, crowds are,” You gestured to the noise that somehow seemed a lot less of an issue now, with Kenma here and looking slightly concerned at you, “uh, well, not good. For me.” You explained lamely, averting your eyes.

Kenma nodded before sitting down in front of you with plenty of space between your feet. You noticed a loop of flowers between his fingers. Following your gaze, he held up the flower crown the little girl had given to you.

“You dropped it.” He explained. You reached out and took the crown from him.

“Thanks.” You settled it atop your head, embarrassment flooding your chest. You looked up at Kenma only to see his eyes were wide. Even before when he was watching you panic in front of him, he had only looked slightly off-put, but now his jaw was hanging slightly open and his eyes were staring unblinking at you, much more intense-looking then you were expecting.

You followed his gaze to your wrist, seeing nothing but your soulmate tattoo where it had always been. After a moment you looked back at him.

“Are you, uh, good?” You asked, concerned at the fact that he was sitting there, motionless, almost in a trance.

Kenma blinked before searching your face, his stoic expression back on his face. After another tense moment of silence that left you feeling awkward, he shoved the sleeve of his hoodie up on his left arm and presented it to you.

There, on his wrist, plain to see, was a small blue bear. You lifted your hands to grab his wrist, to prove that what you were seeing was real, but hesitated. You had been paying attention today, as much as you could with the crowd, and the boy in front of you seemed extremely reserved, so you refrained, instead flipping your own left arm over and placing it next to his in the air.

The tattoos were perfect replicas of each other.

“Oh.” You whispered, feeling all of the breath leave your lungs as you looked at Kenma with new eyes.

The fact that he and his friend were attractive wasn’t something that had slipped your mind. But, really, you hadn’t been paying too much attention. You took the time to actually look at the boy in front of you objectively and without the hard-to-forget lens of him being your literal soulmate determined by the universe.

He was also looking at you, watching you. You became very aware of the fact that just minutes earlier you were crying, and now the area beneath your eyes felt swollen. Your nose was running, and your eyes were probably bloodshot. Underneath his gaze, you felt exposed, vulnerable. And yet, the way his eyes held yours for a moment before flicking away made you comfortable. The fact that he hadn’t immediately rushed closer to you, hadn’t said anything, hadn’t put any pressure on you at all to react whatsoever, hell, he hadn’t even expected you to hold eye contact with him. . . in that moment you were feeling so incredibly seen and safe.

You sat there with him for a few moments, both of your wrists displayed to the other, but not saying anything. You were facing each other, and if you stretched out your legs, you were sure you could touch your shoe to his. Kenma’s head was turned away from you, but his eyes kept flicking over to look at you or your wrist.

The sounds of the street on the other side of the booth didn’t seem so threatening now, and once you looked up, you noticed the sky was beginning to become dotted with lanterns.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” Kenma asked softly, and you glanced at him to see he had turned to face you again.

You shook your head. “No, I promised my friend I would light a lantern for her and grab her some food.” You said. It was quiet for a moment. “You don’t have to stay with me though, if you need to find Kuroo.”

Kenma didn’t answer, instead leaning back slightly and pulling his phone out of his pocket. He typed on it for a moment, giving you a chance to look at him again.

He was wearing a white hoodie with a red flannel tied around his waist. You noticed that it matched the one Kuroo was wearing over his black tee with a smile. His hood was barely resting on his head.

“Stay here.” Kenma’s voice was soft before he stood and walked around the booth. You waited patiently for him to return, unsure of what he was doing.

When he came back, Kenma was on the phone, listening to whoever was talking. You had stood up while waiting for him. He regarded you with curious eyes as he said goodbye to whoever was on the phone and hung up.

“You promised your friend Taiyaki on the phone earlier, right?” Kenma asked, eyes flickering down to his phone as he talked softly.

“Uh, yeah, you heard that?” Kenma only nodded, tapping on a few things on his screen.

You stood in silence for a few moments, watching the lanterns while Kenma typed on his phone. The silence was accompanied by the background noise of the festival, but you instead focused on the sky above you. Somehow, the fact that Kenma hadn’t suddenly become more talkative around you comforted you. You were always afraid that when you met the person with the tattoo matching yours that it was be awkward. Or that they would expect too much of you. That they would expect you to open up to them immediately, and that they would do the same. Standing with Kenma in relative quiet eased these concerns.

“Hey!” You turned to see Kuroo poking his head around the booth and smiling at the two of you. He walked forward holding a small white bag in one hand, and a few lanterns in the other. “Privacy, nice.” Kuroo winked at you before handing you the bag and two lanterns.

“Thank you.” You told him, peeking into the bag to see steaming Taiyaki. “You really didn’t have to do this, let me pay you back.” You set the lanterns down to reach for your wallet until Kuroo waved you off, plopping down on the ground and beginning to write on his lantern.

“My treat, don’t worry about it.” Kuroo glanced up at you with a wide smile, “And, if I really wanted, I’d make pudding head here pay. It’s the least he could do. . . for his soulmate.” Kuroo winked at you before continuing to write.

You sent a glance to Kenma, his slight blush not going unnoticed. “Sorry.” He mumbled before sitting down and grabbing the last lantern left.

Deciding to let it go, you sat down and grabbed the brush Kuroo offered you. “I figured you’d want one for yourself too.” Kuroo motioned to the two lanterns in front of you.

“That’s really kind, thank you.” You set to work painting your friends name on the lantern before texting her a picture.

Moving on to the second lantern, you carefully painted a small wish on it before assembling the both of them.

The three of you lit the lanterns all at once, letting them fly in a group and watching their ascent. You thanked the two boys again and gathered your things to leave. You had only walked a few steps down the street before your name was gently being called. You turned to see Kenma walking up behind you, looking uncomfortable.

“Can I. . . ” Kenma sighed, not meeting your eyes. “I know I don’t talk much, but would you like to, um, eat lunch together Monday?” Your chest felt warm as you nodded.

“Yeah.” You said, “I’ll find you?” Kenma nodded and you mirrored him for a moment before turning away and making your way to your friend’s house with a small smile on your face.

(this will have one, maybe two, more parts :) )

#kenma #kenma x reader #kenma kozume #kenma kozume x reader #kozume kenma #kozume x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #soulmate #soulmate au #kenma x fem!reader #kenma fluff #fluff #haikyuu fluff

[red-radish14]

How To Get Away With Murder

Authors Note:

No real-life acts were committed to persuading me to write this story, it is all fictional and written off the top of my head, no mental or physical attributes were caused to have premeditated planning on this, this felt like a very interesting story to write, there is graphic detail in this story if sensitive please do not read.

If you or someone you know is/are thinking about committing an act of violence upon you or others please call 911 and get help immediately!! They will be able to find the right resources and betterments for you!!

Thanks and reviews are always appreciated!! :)

Word Count: 2.2k

--

Average Life for an average girl:

December 31st, 1979

7:01pm

Hi, I'm Blaire, Blaire Helms, thinking that no one is going to read any of this I have made a resolution to start journaling my life. Even if no one ever saw this, it would be nice to look back and read what I had in mind for the years to come. Let me start out with who I am. I'm a 17-year-old girl from Topeka Kansas, I live with my mother and twin brothers in an apartment downtown. My brothers, Jack and Elliot, are star players on the high school football team. And well, my mother, she is a waiter at the cafe on the main street. We don't have much here at home, and having to scrounge for money to buy a $15 journal had been a struggle for the past few weeks. Me on the other hand, I'm 5'6" with long brown hair and big green eyes. School before winter break was tough, I get bullied a lot, and making friends is a bit of a challenge for me. My brothers don't make it any easier for me either, they sometimes even send random classmates to come to bully me in the smoking pit. Yeah yeah, I know, before you get all Nabby about me smoking I know that it's bad for you, but, I'm 17 how bad could it get. Being a junior in high school isn't all that rough though. I'm an average C student with average teen life. To end on a good note, I finally had enough money saved for the dance on the 13th. Well, it is a welcome back dance for all the kids who passed 1st semester. I just hope no trouble endured like last year, having my head dumped into the punch bowl was not pleasant. Expect more from me in the future. Until then.

-Blaire Helm

7:56pm

--

Smoking Pit Disaster:

January 7th, 1980

5:23pm

Today was hell, when I woke up my brother Elliot had clogged the toilet and flooded the whole bathroom, and just left it there, I was always the last one to leave the house and there was no time to clean it up. I had to get ready at school, about 15 minutes later and once I had left the restroom it was straight to the smoking pit to skip 1st period. There were always a few girls down there and they weren't very talkative, they always just sat and smoked for the whole hour, no breaks in between. As I was smoking you literally won't believe who came down to bother me, Mason Palmer. Mason was the hottest guy in school, he was also the biggest jerk of the school. He was famously popular among anyone in the city and always had a few remarks in his sleeve. after a few minutes of smoking and getting paper balls profusely thrown at me, Mason had jumped down into the pit and proceeded to taunt me. After the taunting, he had kicked my side causing me to drop my cigarette onto my leg. He then left laughing at his buddies. About 30 minutes after the beating I had left to go to 2nd period. Walking through the hallway trying to cover the burn hole in my jeans, I ran into Mason. He had grabbed my backpack and threw it at one of his buddies that had taken off with the bag. He then pushed me down and walked away, leaving me with no supplies, and I had returned to the smoking pit for the remainder of the day. Hopefully, this week would get better before the dance on the 13th. If it doesn't, I'll just have to stay home. But, until next time.

6:17pm

- Blaire Helm

--

Sam's Club Shopping Spree:

January 11th, 1980

9:12pm

Today I had to go shopping for bulk food supplies at Sam's Club. It was the cheapest place where we could go to buy a lot of items for less money. It was only the 2nd time I had to go shopping there and I was bored out of my mind. As I was shopping today I picked up the usual items we needed. Macaroni, ramen, chips and lots more. In the back of my mind somewhere I needed to get some cleaning supplies, I don't know why but I bought some anyway. a 4 pack of bleach bottles, 16-pack sponges, 2 3-gallon mop buckets, 8 pack of paper towels, and some sterile gloves. I felt like I needed to clean the whole house. After I was done shopping I decided to stop by Walgreens to pick up some pain killers for my back, it's been so horrible lately, they'll knock me out in a second if I'm not careful. Once I got home, I left the cleaning supplies in my car until I needed them and brought the other groceries inside. Being usual teenage boys my brothers decided to help none and pretend to be each other for a day, I guess it's a normal thing identical twins decide to do. Oh, and about Mason, he hasn't shown up to school for the past 2 days because he's been too busy suit shopping for the dance. This isn't prom, I guess he's wanting to fuck some chick in the back while everyone else is sipping on watered-down punch. Well, I'll let you guys know how the dance goes, all I'm wearing is a hand-me-down loose tee with some black jeans. Wish me luck.

10:02pm

- Blaire Helm

--

Till Death Do Us Part:

January 13th, 1980

5:43 am

Guys, I'm in the middle of fucking nowhere right now. Why is this happening, this can't be happening? It started with the stupid fucking dance. I walked into the gym, grabbed my punch, and boom Mason was right there, he had poured his punch all over me and pushed me causing me to slip and fall hitting my head. I had gotten up asking him what he wanted from me. Suddenly he grabbed my wrist and pulled me to the side of the bleachers. He had pinned me against the wall and told me I had to do whatever he wanted me to do. I had agreed and asked him if I could run out to my car to get dried, he agreed and after some time I was back into the gym. Mason had gotten a new cup of punch and came over to dance. I had played around and danced along with him. Mason left to go pee after some dancing and asked me to hold his cup. While Mason was gone, I had grabbed some of those painkillers from the car and slipped some into his drink. Mason had returned and started drinking his punch, fast, like he was dying of dehydration. He started falling asleep so, I asked him if he wanted to go to the storage closet to have some fun. He had followed me in there, pinned me down, and I stabbed him. I had must've stabbed him 100 times, blood was everywhere. I panicked, I had shut off the lights and locked the door. It must've been hours but no one looked for us, once the last person left the school I knew what I needed to do with Mason. I had dragged his body out to my car and laid him in the backseat on top of my wet clothes, all of his blood had drained out onto the floor of the gym. I had grabbed the cleaning supplies I bought from Costco earlier and cleaned. it must've taken me an hour. I had grabbed all the trash and stuffed it into the back of my car. The closet was as clean as it was before the murder. And now I'm out here in the middle of fucking Kansas, 125 miles from where I live. Now, what do I fucking do?

7:24 am

- Blaire Helm

--

Pitched Out:

January 14th, 1980

3:36 pm

I had decided I needed to do something with this body or it was going to rot in my car minute by minute. I had stopped at a gas station to pick up 30 lbs of raw meat and some new clothes without being questioned and afterward, I had gone a bit off-roading miles away from the road and found a place to park and deal with it. My mother loved to Garden and so happens the day before she had left most of her gardening stuff in the car, so I got to digging. I had created dirt stairs and dug 12ft down. I had stripped Mason down to his skin and set his clothes aside. I had placed him into the hole. I covered him up with about 6 ft of dirt, and placed the raw rotting meat above, covering it with the remaining dirt, patted it out, and made it look natural. I had found some school papers from my car and tumbleweeds laying around to create a fire.  I stripped down to my skin and proceeded to throw everything I had used to kill Mason into the fire, letting it burn. After the fire was done burning I picked up the ashes and brought them with me back to a small pond a few miles down the road. I had thrown the ashes into the pond, watching them disintegrate, and jumped in the pond myself to wash up all the blood. While I was in the pond I had realized what I've done. While drying off I burst into tears and begged God for forgiveness. Afterward, I had set myself on home, sitting here now at a gas station, only 25 miles away from my house.

4:17 pm

- Blaire Helm

--

The Party:

January 17th, 1980

8:57 pm

A watch party had started for Mason and I had joined along with them in search for him. I knew what I did, and I knew nobody was going to ever find him. I know that because it's a fact. The rotting meat will attract the dogs, the police dig it up and realize it's just some animal remains, and continue searching. There are no fingerprints or clothes to find because they are burnt. The ashes are dissolved into nothingness. And it's in the middle of Kansas in a desert, anyone could've done it. The school gym is cleaned like brand new, it's all planned. After the search party, I had stopped by Mason's house to see how his parents were doing. His mother and father could not stop crying. Soon I was "crying" and told them I needed to leave to get home to do some homework. I had gotten home and lost my mind, I was upset that I did such a thing. I had started laughing when realizing that I had gotten away, a murder undetected, a master plan successfully accomplished. But for how long.

9:10 pm

- Blaire Helm

--

Dumped Down:

April 18th, 1980

1:02 pm

It's been 3 months since I've killed Mason, the parties are over, and everyone is moving on like he was still out there missing. I knew what had happened, I've visited where I had buried him a few times since that night, It upsets me. A lot is going through my head lately. One of these days or years they are going to find him and I will be fucked, I can't live knowing I had killed a man. So sitting here in my bedroom I've come up with a plan, We are going to paint the walls, to have a fresh new start. I will load up the paintbrush and get to painting. The room is going to have small specks of red, it suits me best. But I've got to admit that I lived my life up to its fullest. Lighting up a cigarette and placed the paintbrush in the palm of my hand. I'm gonna set it down and I'll let you know how the room turns out tomorrow. I had left a note on the counter for my mother and my brothers, it's basically telling them to not come in until the paint dries, well I'll write later, Goodbye.

3:46 pm

- Blaire Helm

--

Roses:

Blaire Helm

Sex: F

DOB: 08/23/1963 (17)

Hgt: 5'6"

Eyes: Green

Cause of death: Suicide

DOD: 04/18/1980

We had responded to a report of a teenage suicide yesterday night, a distraught mother had dialed 911 crying about her daughter being dead. When police arrived at the scene it was in fact Blaire Helms in her small apartment bedroom. She was lying on her left side with a gunshot wound to her right side of her face, the shotgun laying behind her back and the walls dusted in blood. No one knows why Blaire had committed suicide, people usually called her sweet and caring. No suicide note was found and police are still investigating the scene of the crime.

Drug reports:

Cotinine: 45mg

Alcohol: 1.4oz

Adderall: 75mg

Tylenol: 1200mg

Subject transferred to autopsy room for opening, nothing found within the patient, the mother will soon arrive to finish the paperwork.

- M.D Green

--

Another Author's Note:

I really hope you guys enjoyed this story, I spent only a few hours on it so it's not professionally done, again pls call 911 if you or someone you think might consider suicide or committing a crime. Thanks again, take care

- L.L

#tw suicice #depressing post #murder #story time #like wtf

[spookysquishsworld]

The Start

Author Note: Hi guys! Im Morph. I wanted to try my hand in some writing. I didn't know where to start with JJ and saw someone wanted Pop Punk JJ. Pop Punk used to be my life and felt that this was actually meant to be. -- This seems shorter then what I wanted, but I didnt know where to stop or start or any of it. 

The start 

"I swear to fucking god Chris, I'll turn this fucking car aroundShut the fuck up" beach boy mccafferty 

WARNINGS: Drug use, moving, mosh pit, circle pit, blood 

After years of hard work things changed drastically in the last few months. You were moving to the outer banks. You found an apartment and an old good friend from way back when, who's lived there for some time is going to help you get your bearings.

 --- 

You spent all day with your friend, Charlie, helping you unpack and decorating a bit. You moved into a decent 2 bedroom apartment. It has a nice sized living room, your tv stand is a long 9 shelf cubed bookshelf, which allowed room for your movie collection with room to grow. There is a little patio in the back with a grill, and a cute little kitchen with a pantry out-cove. 

There is enough room for some people to comfortably stay over while having space to move around. Nothing spectacular but good enough to call a new home.

In the bedroom you have the regular pinterest decor, headboard and footboard with lights wrapped around the spindles. In the second room you have a futon and a little record player corner, with some old records you found at thrift stores on the wall. In the living room you put out a polaroid camera so when people come in you can take their pictures. A way to remember some memories. You took a picture with Charlie when she received a text. While you are hanging the picture on the wall where the camera is located, Charlie screams and runs into your room looking through your closet. 

"WE are going to a show tonight!" Charlie says trying to pick out outfits for herself and for you. She tells you to go shower after moving in this heat you need to be fresh for the concert.

 ---

You settle on a state champs t-shirt that you bleach tye dyed yourself tucked into ripped jean shorts with black matte doc martens. Doing your hair in space buns because they are freaking cute, and minimal makeup. Winged eyeliner, mascara and some liquid lipstick. 

Charlie comes out of the bathroom running around gathering her stuff as she tells you that our ride is here. In the old van you see many heads already in the back. Charlie climbs into the passenger side and the side door slides open for you to get in. Charlie introduces you to the driver, Kie and points behind her saying that the two boy's names were Pope and JJ. Pope was studying from some book and JJ was finishing rolling a joint.

Pope looks up from his book and offers you his hand. "pleased to meet you" "Same here" You shake the boys hand and chuckle at him trying to read in the dark.

 You offer your hand to JJ but shuffles around trying to do a two handed task with only one hand. You apologize and he ends up giving you the typical dude-bro sup nod, which you return. JJ tries to offer the blunt to the entire car, pope refusing, saying something keeping a channel clear? Clean? Kie said no because she's driving, Charlie says no thank you but you say yes and you could see the surprise on JJ's face. 

When you get there you have to buy tickets at the front booth. Kie bought the boys their tickets and you bought Charlie's for all of her help.

You didn't plan on sticking together, so you push through the crowd and you go up to the point of were the mosh pit would eventually start. To your surprise everyone followed you through. Once the main band came on the pit opened and you felt the freedom you were desperate to feel after this move. It was good to be in the pit, no one knew names and no one really paid attention to faces. You could be anyone you wanted to be during this time. How you looked while dancing didn't matter, there was some guys on the floor scooting around pretending to be in a row boat. You felt safe even though there was nothing but chaos. People were always polite and looked out for girls in the pit. During one of the heavier songs there was a circle pit opening and you started to run. You lost footing, clumsy as always, but there were veiny tan arms around your waste as soon as you started falling.

"I got you" JJ tries to not yell too loud in your ear. Where his hands were, your skin immediately turned into fire. It felt like his hands were burning into your skin. You have never felt such electricity from another being ever before. You were speechless, as you two just met. You could just nod in response.

 After the song ended, you went to get a water, not being in a concert for a while took more out of you than you expected. You saw JJ coming up next to you, and you shout make it two. You pay for the waters and he walks to go outside, making sure you are following him.

"Hey, Y/N, right?" JJ asks after drinking almost half of the water bottle at once. "Thank you very much for the water"

"It was the least I could do, you saved me from being boot mush." You chuckled at yourself, couldn't you at-least try to sound cooler. 

"I heard you just moved here, Charlie is a good friend of Kie, Charlie is a good friend of yours, by proximity you are close with Kie. I protect my friends." there was a darkness in JJ's eyes, a different shade than before. The color did something to your heart but shook the feeling off. You just met this boy, take it easy. In this light you could see his lip had a scab on it, which was now bleeding. 

"Hey, did that happen in there?" You point to your lip as he goes to swipe his own. 

"Fuck, no, it just opened back up. Im tougher then that a circle pit isn't going to make me bleed" JJ chuckles and rolls his eyes, flexing his muscles through a grey long sleeve t-shirt. Which is he now using the hem as a napkin to brush some blood away.

"Lets head back" JJ nods to the entrance doors, holding one for you. 

You knew you would follow this man named JJ anywhere and you just met him. You wanted to know where JJ got that busted lip from. You wanted to know more about this group. The way JJ talked about his group, it felt like it could be the family you have always wanted. 

What else could come with this move? This might have been the best choice you have ever made in your entire life.

Tags: @spicedhunnie

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj poppunk #morphwrites #obxstuff #pope obx #kie obx #obx van

[high-functioning-lokipath]

Chapter 2 - The Empty Hearse

"Bollocks!" Lestrade exclaims at hearing Anderson's latest fantastical theory.

"No-no-no-no! It’s obvious! That’s how they did it! It’s obvious!" Anderson insists.

"Derren Brown?! Let it go. Erin and Torry are dead," John sighs. Why he had to sit here and listen to this garbage he truly did not know.

"Are they? Are you sure?" Anderson persists.

"The bodies, Philip. It was them. It was definitely them. Molly Hooper confirmed that," Sherlock said, finally added his two cents in.

"No, she’s lying. It was Jim Moriarty’s body with a mask on and another from the morgue!"

"A mask?!" Greg scoffs. Anderson nods eagerly. "A bungee rope, a mask, Derren Brown. Two years and the theories keep getting more stupid. How many more’ve you got for me today?" He sighs, shaking his head. Anderson had called the three of them over to Speedy's for a morning cuppa. Ever since the fall, Anderson had been oddly kind to Sherlock and John. Sherlock seemed to tolerate his presence, however, Sherlock had completely stopped solving crimes. All he ever did anymore was sit at home or go to the old folks’ home and play bingo with them. Even then, bingo had been a recent development only done once every 3 weeks.

"Well," Anderson continued with his theory. "You know the paving slabs in that whole area – even the exact ones that they landed on – you know they were all-"

"Guilt," John interrupted. He couldn't let the man continue. When Anderson started sharing his theories, Sherlock couldn't bear to hear even one without breaking down. Now he could stand a few but the more wild ones tended to still bother him. He looked sternly at Anderson, glancing briefly towards Sherlock who was on the verge of tears. "That’s all this is. You pushed us all into thinking that Sherlock was a fraud, you and Donovan." Anderson looks down sadly, only raising his eyes a little to look at Sherlock for a moment.

"You did this," Sherlock whispered. "And it killed them, and they're staying dead," He continued, voice getting louder with every word. "Do you honestly believe that if you have enough stupid theories, it’s gonna change what really happened?" He yelled. Picking up their cups of coffee, Sherlock and John start to walk away.

"I believe in them," Anderson says, just loud enough for the two men to hear.

"Yeah, well that won’t bring them back," John replies before they head out the door. Greg pats Anderson's shoulder sadly.

"Look, mate, I can't say that I agree with you. But," He trailed off. He wanted to think one of these ideas could be true but he didn't want to give Anderson false hope. "But I'd be lying if they didn't sound wonderful to me." Philip looked at his ex-boss, a smile slowly forming.

"Thanks, Greg."

At the cemetery, Sherlock and John gaze down at the headstones, their eyes haunted with memories and loss. Tears begin rolling silently down Sherlock's cheeks.

"Here," a female voice speaks, holding out a handkerchief. Sherlock nods and takes it from her. She steps to his side and takes his hand. He clasps it tightly before whispering, "Thank you, Molly." John smiles at them slightly and walks away by himself.

In a small, dirty hotel room somewhere in Serbia, Torry and Erin are attempting to clean up after their last mission. Erin was in the bathroom cleaning numerous cuts on her arms and legs. Torry had opted to simply flop down on the bed and try to avoid leaning on her own bruises.

"You know," Erin said walking out of the bathroom. "I've been to hell and back and hell was nicer than this." Torry laughed loudly as Erin sat on the bed with her.

"You can't make me laugh like that! The last guy we took out got me in the ribs and it still hurts!" Torry groaned as she tried to stop laughing.

"Oh, that's true," Erin replied. "Ugh, I feel like absolute crap. No, strike that. Worse than crap."

"Me too, but we need to try to get some rest. Who knows where Mycroft will say we need to go tomorrow," Torry said, climbing under the top blanket.

"Ok. Aren't you going to use the blankets? It's cold!"

"I don't trust this bed."

"That's true. I don't trust half the places we've been to. I'm going to need a really long shower, maybe with bleach, when we return."

"Mhm," Torry replied, already half-asleep. Erin settled in and closed her eyes.

*Knock knock knock*

Both girls sat straight up. "Who could that be?" Erin whispered.

"I'll check," Torry replied. She got up slowly and crept up to the door. Looking through the peephole she groaned. "Are you kidding me?" She flipped the locks and swung the door open.

"Good morning, ladies."

"Mycroft! What the bloody heck, man?" Erin yelled. "It's nearly 2am!"

"Thus my greeting of ‘good morning’ rather than ‘good evening.’"

"What do you want?" Torry demanded, flopping back down on the bed. "Ow, that hurt."

"There’s an underground terrorist network active in London and a massive attack is imminent. Sorry, but the holiday is over, darlings," Mycroft grinned. "It's time to go back to Baker Street."

Later that day, at about 2 pm, the girls were almost finished cleaning up at Mycroft's office and spa. "I needed that," Torry sighed, coming out of the bathroom in a fluffy white robe and plopping down on the sofa.

"Please don't get that wet,' Mycroft commented from behind his newspaper, nose wrinkling.

"Oi, don't get ya knickers in ah twist, mate!" Erin exclaimed in an impressively accurate accent. Mycroft raised an eyebrow but quickly returned to reading. She was returning from the dressing room where she had been supplied with a pair of brown slacks, an army green button-up and a cream cardigan. "Your outfit's in there, Vic," She said. Torry nodded and went to the dressing room. She came back out a few minutes later wearing black slacks and a deep plum-purple, short sleeve shirt that had faux rolled-up cuffs.

Back at Baker St., John was trying very hard to figure out what was wrong with Sherlock who was sitting on the sofa, reading a book. "What are you reading, Sherlock?"

"An old, American, murder mystery series that Molly suggested."

"Oh, ok. So who did it?"

"Not a clue," Sherlock replied almost happily.

"Not a clue?" John yelled. "Sherlock! That's the 6th time this week alone that you've done something completely normal or have not deduced something quite obvious! First, it was the crap telly, you actually enjoyed it and didn't interrupt it! Second, that God awful thing you called music that you turned on. Third, you actually, willingly called your parents to see how they were doing. Fourth, you put away the last of your experiments and actually said that the fingers in the fridge were gross. And fifth, and this really takes the cake, fifth, you went out and bought milk. And it's only Wednesday! What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing, John," Sherlock replied, casually turning a page.

"Nothing? How about the fact that you're constantly texting or, worse yet, calling Molly? What about that?"

"We're dating, John. I suppose we are trying to keep it somewhat quiet so I guess it's expected that you didn't notice."

"Dating?" John asked, voice cracking slightly. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut. "Already?" He whispered.

"It's been long enough." That angered John once again.

"Long enough? Long enough! You have no idea what long enough is! You obviously didn't care before and you don't care now! Long enough, my eye. It's only been a year. I thought you'd changed. I thought you'd gone crazy and become normal but I was wrong. You're not normal, you're a machine," John slammed his hands on the desk. "I'm going out. If you aren't back to normal by the time I'm back, I'm leaving for good." John grabbed his coat and left. Sherlock tried to keep reading the book but he couldn't. He finally closed the books and set it on the coffee table. Sighing, he leaned his head in his hands. He grabbed his cell phone and sent a text.

Molly, we need to talk. Can we have dinner at 7 at the Landmark Hotel on Marylebone Road?

- SH

John wanders up and down London Streets, not paying much attention to where he's going. The streets quiet down and suddenly he has a strange feeling that someone is following him. Looking around, he thought he saw a glimpse of two very familiar faces but they quickly disappeared. Realizing he walked himself to St. Bart's, he shakes his head and thinks he imagined seeing them. He decides to continue walking, once again getting lost in thought and not paying attention to where he's going.

Sure. Is something wrong?

- Molly

Nothing is wrong. But I have something to ask you.

- SH

Ok. I have something I need to tell you too so this will work perfectly. See you tonight!

- Molly

John hears someone walking behind him but again sees no one when he looks. "Seriously?" He groans realizing his location once again. He walked himself to the cemetery now. Sitting down and leaning against one of the headstones, he starts crying. "Dang it! I didn't even cry this much when I broke my arm in primary school!" He hears a slight chuckle and then someone shushing another person. "Hello?" He calls out. "Who's there?"

Behind a nearby tree, Erin looks at Torry nervously. "Go on, get!" Torry whispers.

"But-" Erin protests, but Torry just rolls her eyes and shoves her out into the open. John hears the noise behind him and whips around.

"Erin?"

"Hi, John," She replies awkwardly, toeing at the ground. He walks slowly towards her but stops about 5 feet away.

"No. I-I must-" He stutters. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "You're just dreaming. It's not real. Now stop doing this to yourself!" He commands. Slowly reopening his eyes he sees Erin still there. "Oh my God. Please tell me I'm not dreaming again. I can't take much more of this." His voice breaks at the end, tears rolling down his face.

"I'm here, John. Really," Erin replied softly, holding out her arms. He ran to her pulling her into a tight hug.

"I can't believe it's you. I saw you-" he stopped suddenly, pulling back and holding her at arm's length. "I saw you die!" He yelled, anger now seeping in. "We're standing at your grave for Pete's sake! Why did you do that to me? What were you thinking? I have half a mind to punch you for it!" Erin winced at his questions, a guilty look washing over her face.

"I deserve that," She sighed. "We did it for you and Sherlock. We-"

"For us? For us! How could that possibly have been for us?" He yelled.

"Moriarty was going to kill you," Torry said, stepping out from behind the tree.

"Torry? Oh no," John said, mildly panicked. "Ok, ok. So we would have died, you saved our lives, I'll listen to the whole story later but this is, um, oh dear."

"What's wrong, John?" Erin asked.

"What time is it?" He said.

"About 6:30," Torry supplied. John nodded and pulled out his phone. After checking something he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Ok, let's go back to Baker St., we need to discuss something."

"Is Sherlock home?" Torry asked hopefully. John shook his head

"Not right now. But we need to talk first and I'd rather not be standing over your graves to discuss this." The girls nodded and the three of them began the walk back home.

At the restaurant, Sherlock was sitting at a table, waiting for Molly. "Molly, I was thinking and-" he stopped. "No, that's not the right way to ask her." He was trying to practice what to say. "Molly, we've known each other for so long and it only makes sense that-" he stopped again. Shaking his head, he sighed. "I hope I say it right when she gets here," he mumbled to himself. Just them Molly walked in. Standing up, he smiled and waved at her. She walked over to the table and gave him a hug. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek which had become their usual greeting. He held her seat for her and then sat down again himself.

"So, Sherlock-"

"So, Molly-" They both laughed when they started talking at the same time.

"You first, Sherlock."

"Well, uh, why don't we eat first?" Molly nodded and he waved the waiter over.

John unlocked the door to the flat and went to the kitchen immediately to make tea. Erin and Torry hesitated at the door briefly, still nervous about returning. "Come on in," John called out. "He's not home." They walked in and sat on the sofa. "Here, nice fresh, hot tea." John set two cups on the coffee table in front of them.

"Thanks," they said. "So," Torry said. "What is it you needed to tell us?"

"Sherlock is, well, he's been seeing Molly." Torry froze immediately.

"Seeing? As in dating?" Erin asked.

"It would appear so," John replied sadly. “They’re having dinner right now at Landmark Hotel on Marylebone Road.” Torry stood up quickly and grabbed her coat.

"Where are you going?" John asked her.

"The Landmark Hotel. I need to see this for myself."

"If you want to get up close, then may I suggest a costume change?" Erin smirked.

"I like your thinking," Torry replied with a smirk of her own. They popped into 221C quickly, where neither Mrs. Hudson nor the residents of 221B had entered over the time of their absence. "How would this be?" Torry asked a few minutes later, walking back out from the bedroom in a crisp white shirt, and a black jacket to match her slacks.

"Almost perfect. But I think you're missing one thing," Erin replied.

"And here it is!" John said. "Here, it's my old black bowtie from my fancier days," he teased. "It's clip-on for easier use."

"Thanks," Torry said, putting it on. "Now let's go." Torry marched off briskly in the direction of the restaurant.

"We should go too," Erin said. "Quickly. She might murder someone." John nodded emphatically in agreement. Arriving at the restaurant a minute after Torry, John and Erin looked frantically for her.

"There are Sherlock and Molly," John pointed out. The two were sitting at a cozy table talking, giggling, and sharing their food.

"Poor Torry," Erin said. John nodded and continued looking for Torry.

"Table for two?" A familiar voice asked.

"Torry! How'd you slip in so fast?" Erin whisper-yelled.

"Girl was going on break. She said table 6 is empty until the 9 pm reservation. Shall we?"

"We shall," John smiled, taking Erin's arm. "I always did want to take you out here." Erin blushed and leaned on his shoulder a bit.

"Hopeless romantic," She teased. He winked at her, making them both giggle.

"Can we please move along?" Torry hissed. She took them to their table which was surprisingly close to Sherlock and Molly's table. After seating them she asked what they would like to drink.

"You're actually going to do this?" John asked.

"Only way I can stay close without suspicion. So what'll it be?"

"2 glasses of water to start," John replied. "And don't worry, we'll keep an ear out for you." Torry nodded and headed back for their waters. If they were quiet enough, John and Erin could hear the conversation between Sherlock and Molly. Right now, it would seem the two were almost done with their dinners and discussing what to get for dessert. Torry still hadn't returned from the kitchen yet.

"How long do 2 glasses of water take?" Erin asked. John shrugged and then shushed her.

"I think the subject is changing," he whispered. Before Sherlock and Molly could decide on dessert, Sherlock spoke up.

"Molly, I need to ask you something," He said nervously.

"Ok," Molly replied, taking a deep breath. "I actually have something to ask you too. But you go first." Sherlock nodded and fiddled with the napkin.

"So, uh, a-are we, um, well, are we dating?" He stuttered. Molly chuckled.

"That's actually what I was going to ask," She smiled softly. "Look, Sherlock, I know you don't read social cues well so I'm going to spell it out bluntly. From my point of view, this past year has simply been me supporting you and helping you after, well, after Torry's death. I like you, Sherlock, but only as a friend. My lovesick puppy days are past."

"Ok," Sherlock replied softly. "I understand. I-" He paused, taking a shaky breath. "I guess I just was on the rebound," He admitted. "Thank you for everything though. I don't think I could have done that myself."

"Sherlock, I'll always be your friend. I just wish I could help you more. But you need to allow yourself time to grieve. I honestly have never seen you so, well," She blushed, a smile peeking on her lips. "Normal." Sherlock laughed and nodded.

"John said the same thing practically. I think I just need more time." They both smiled and Sherlock got up to pay. Molly stood as well and gave him a hug. "Thank you," He repeated.

"Seriously?" Torry yelled.

"Oh great! Her timing couldn't be better," Erin yelled sarcastically, throwing her hands in the air.

"How dare you date someone so soon after I 'died'!" Torry yelled. Sherlock turned to look at her and immediately paled. His eyes lit up but it wasn't clear whether it was in terror or joy. "You should have waited at least 1 ½ years!" Torry whacked him upside the head, messing up his perfect curls.

"You're alive!" He choked out, eyes brimming with tears.

"Of course I am you, idiot! Do you really think I would have made us a date at Angelo's if I had truly been 'leaving'? Oh, and Molly? This is my man, not yours. Hands off!"

"Well it's quite obvious we're not dating," Sherlock intoned in his usual 'stating-the-obvious' voice.

"What are you talking about? I saw you two-"

"You don't understand, Torry!" Erin exclaimed. Sherlock looked just as surprised at seeing her too. "They were just talking-" Erin tried to explain to Torry what happened. Meanwhile, John tried to snap Sherlock out of his daze.

"Mate? You alright?" John asked, waving his hand in front of Sherlock's face.

"Huh?" He replied, breaking his stare. "Oh, uh, yeah. They're alive."

"Yeah, well, no duh, Sherlock!" John teased, smiling. Sherlock smiled too and then suddenly remembered Molly.

"Oh! Molly! Did you know-"

"Yes," I helped. "That's also why I wanted to make sure with you where we stood. I knew they were almost back." She grinned widely and hugged each of the girls. "Glad to see you both made it back safe. I'm going to head home now. Don’t worry about dessert, Sherlock. You four have a lovely reunion, ok?" Erin and Torry smiled and nodded in reply. "Congratulations, Sherlock," Molly said softly, hugging him goodbye. She headed out of the restaurant quickly, leaving four very happy people behind.

"Shall we eat?" John finally asked after a moment or two of stunned silence.

"Yes," Sherlock immediately replied, quirking his lips. "But not here." He held his arm out to Torry.

"Certainly not," Torry replied, taking his arm. "To Angelo's!" They headed to the door with John and Erin following in like manner.

"You know what actually has surprised me the most today?" John asked as they walked to the restaurant. "Sherlock actually remembered to pay the check without me." The girls laughed and Sherlock blushed slightly. "It's amazing that he still remembered something so normal with you back."

"What do you mean?" Torry queried.

"Well," Sherlock chuckled, scratching his neck. "I have been acting a bit differently."

"Differently?"

"Normally," He admitted. His face fell, a deep sadness covering his features. "I guess it was my version of going crazy. With John and Molly there to keep me from doing something really idiotic-"

"Like drugs?" Erin asked. Sherlock nodded before continuing.

"With them there, I kept myself together but I still lost all desire to solve anything. It got to a point where I tried to but I couldn't. It was terribly boring but I couldn't do anything about it." He stopped walking and turned to face Torry. Gently, he brushed a stray hair off her face and added, "I need you, Torry." She blushed brightly and leaned forward giving him a head boop causing them both to laugh. Erin and John remained silent during the exchange and smiled at the couple. Erin quietly slipped her phone out of her pocket and took a picture of them. After a few moments, the four continued on to Angelo’s.

"You know," Erin finally said. "Moriarty was right. "It killed him in the manner of killing his desire to solve crimes."

"What are you talking about?" John asked.

"Let's just head to Angelo's and we'll explain everything there, ok?" Erin replied. They nodded but Sherlock seemed to be mildly distracted.

"Can we stop by the flat first? I forgot something."

"Sure, Sherlock," Torry replied. Sherlock texted John a cryptic message and John smiled softly.

"What's that?" Erin asked him, seeing Sherlock's text.

"Oh, nothing. I think I forgot something upstairs too. Can you two girls wait down here for us?" The girls nodded and they headed up.

"Any clue?" Torry asked. Erin shook her head. A minute later, the Baker Street Boys came back down. Sherlock had his trusty Belfast back on and his hat. John had changed his jumper. The four then proceeded on to Angelo's as planned. Upon arriving, Torry and Erin both got enthusiastic hugs from the proprietor and their usual table was made up for them. John whispered something to Angelo. His eyes lit up and he nodded vigorously. He scurried off to the kitchen and returned with a candle.

"So tell us all about it," John said.

"Well, shortly after Moriarty's failed trial, we got a visit at 221C," Erin began explaining. Angelo came back with salads and the story paused for a moment but quickly resumed at Sherlock's urging. The girls took turns explaining the different plans that had been made in preparation for the final act.

"When we got to the roof, Moriarty told us something we weren't expecting," Erin said.

"He told us that he had 4 snipers at the ready," Torry explained. "He said if his men didn't see us fall, there would be 4 shots. Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, and-"

"Us," Sherlock finished. Torry and Erin nodded. "So at that point, you had no choice but to go with the worst-case scenario plan."

"We didn't want to," Erin whispered, near to tears from reliving the events of that day. John took her hand and squeezed it comfortingly.

"Moriarty said it would be a poetic death for you," Torry added.

"Seems he was right in a way," Sherlock said. "I didn't do anything. I didn't want to without you." Sherlock smiled at Torry and opened his mouth to say something more but changed his mind.

"Why don't we order dessert?" John asked. Once it was ordered, John excused himself to the restroom. Curiously, Sherlock got a text message a minute or so after John left the table. When John returned, Angelo brought dessert out: 2 luscious pieces of cake, one for each of the couples to split. Before they could eat though, Angelo spoke up.

"Wait! Wait! I want to take a picture of you all together again!"

"Alright," Erin chuckled. She scooted her chair closer to John and Torry scooted closer to Sherlock. Angelo took a picture and then asked them to wait again while he checked it.

"Whoops! I dropped my spoon," John said, getting on the floor to pick it up. "Sherlock, it bounced over to you. Can you get it?"

"Of course," Sherlock replied, getting down on the floor as well. Neither girl noticed Angelo was no longer taking pictures but rather was videoing.

"You boys are silly," Erin commented.

"But I suppose that's why we love you," Torry added. The girls looked at each other and chuckled.

"Well in that case," Sherlock said, getting on one knee. John mirrored his movements.

"Will you marry me?" John and Sherlock asked their girls as they held out their respective ring boxes. Angelo smiled brightly, snapping pictures too as he videoed.

"Yes!" Torry squealed, holding her hand out. Sherlock grinned and put the ring on her finger. He stood and she jumped up giving him a hug. "Do you mind a little PDA?" She asked him. He raised one eyebrow but shook his head. "Good," she replied with a smile. She then kissed him and ruffled his hair. They pulled apart and both broke into giggles. He smiled sweetly at her and gave her a soft kiss on the forehead.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the table, Erin too had said: "Yes!" But instead of jumping up like Torry, she knelt down in front of him and wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug.

"Oi! Haven't even put the ring on yet!"

"Ok! Ok!" She laughed. She let him put it on her and then kissed him earnestly.

"As nice as that was," John said a few moments later. "Could we get up now?" Erin chuckled and they stood up. Sherlock and Torry were just finishing their exchange and the two, newly engaged couples smiled at each other.

"Ok! Now another picture altogether!" Angelo announced.

"You knew about this didn't you?" Erin exclaimed.

"I videoed the whole thing," He admitted. "Now get together for a picture!"

Sherlock BBC Taglist

@lucywrites02

@delightfulheartdream

@bartv21

@another-crazy-fangirl

@ladylulu143

#sherlock x oc #sherlock fanfic #sherlock bbc #john watson x oc

[ohblackdiamond]

little t&a (paul/gene, nc-17) (part 19 of 29)

part 1   part 2   part 3   part 4   part 5   part 6   part 7   part 8   part 9   part 10   part 11   part 12   part 13   part 14   part 15   part 16   part 17   part 18   part 19   part 20   part 21  part 22   part 23   part 24    part 25   part 26   part 27   part 28   part 29

Four weeks before KISS gets back on tour, Gene discovers that Paul’s been cursed by a groupie. For the sake of KISS’ finances, Paul’s comfort levels, and Gene’s libido, this crisis must be resolved. Sexswap fic.  In this chapter:  Paul has a nightmare and finally starts to confess to Gene. (Yes, there’s finally some smut again.) (Author’s note 6/24/2020: Smut has been revised! Thighsex imminent.)

           In his dreams Paul was always himself. Sometimes he was eight years old, in the school playground, hearing his classmates singsong "Stanley the one-eared monster" to the tune of Rudolph, and sometimes the classmates would turn into a whole stadium full of people, thousands, cackling and pointing, while he stood onstage and couldn't say a word. Sometimes he was his own age, walking off a plane, or at a photoshoot, stripped down and bare-faced and afraid as soon as the cameras started.

           That night he was seventeen again. He knew because the T.V. was on in the living room, Neil Armstrong on the screen in all his astronaut garb, sticking the flag up on the Moon's rocky soil. Julia was there, for once, sitting beside him on the couch.

           "Do you think it's real?" she said, and he looked at her, disgusted.

           (of course it's real)

           "Do you think it's real?" she repeated, and he thought she must not have heard him. He put his hand to his face, touching the start of his sideburns—something new he was trying, something he'd need to shave before school started back up, but for now, it was cool. He'd seen them on rockstars, but rarely in person, and never on someone he knew, until that guy he'd met a month back. Gene. But Gene was too fat in the face to pull the look off. They would look better on him, once they grew out.

           (it's got to be real. why would they waste all that time and money on something that wasn't real? why would they be so stupid?)

           "You tell me," Julia said, and her face and build shifted, dark hair bleaching out to light brown, pockmarks and freckles sketching across her face, Carol's face, Carol's voice now, Carol's hand reaching out to touch his shoulder. "Why don't you tell me, Stan?"

         (i don't—)

        Another shift. Carol's face melted down, skull pushing outward, hair going shaggy and wild. Her nose forced out and flattened all at once, muzzle emerging. A lion's face on a man's body, a man's voice coming through its throat.

           "Are you going to tell me?"

         (please)

          (please, take it off, i'm sorry—i'm so sorry—)

           "Is it real?"

          (please)

        (what're you saying, i don't understand)

           "Is love real, Stan?" Marbas' voice was oddly soft as he curled his hand around Paul's suddenly much more narrow shoulder. Tapped it, then Marbas' still-human fingers moved to trace the sides of his smooth, bare face. "Or—let's put it differently. What she felt for you, was that love?"

           (i)

            (i don't think you can love someone you don't know)

           But you've made your fortune pretending." Marbas' lips pulled back, revealing teeth as long as his thumbs. "And so has he."

          (he?)

           "The man in your bed." The demon pushed Paul's hair behind his left ear. "I've cursed greater men than you. Byron. Shelley. More. Watching you was hardly entertaining in comparison, until he came along."

         (don't hurt him)

          (please don't—)

           "Do you really love him, Stan?" Marbas didn't give him time to answer, tugging at a curl, longer now than it had been minutes before. Paul couldn't feel a centimeter of what was happening to him, could barely do more than watch and breathe as his body warped before him. "Why? Because he was kind to you?"

          (i don't know)

           "Because he had the qualities you lacked? Or because you didn't believe he'd want you?"

          (i don't know!)

           The demon wasn't letting the point go. Neil Armstrong still in the background, the sound of the T.V. tinny. His shoes off to the side on the dirty carpet. The plugged-in fan on the coffee table. Everything, everything the same in that little apartment but him.

           "You won't tell me. You won't tell him. What I wrought on you really makes no difference." Marbas touched the center of chest, full and heavy before the demon even moved his finger towards it, and Paul realized, just from what he could see of his body, that he was still seventeen after all. The weight he'd had back then was there, the stomach flab, the too-thick thighs. Every bit of him dumpy and unattractive, no definition, nothing worth wanting. "Even if you'd always had this form, you'd have kept your silence. You'd never have given yourself up."

          (i can't, i just can't—)

           "Then you want to remain as you are?" The demon's mouth twitched again; he seemed almost to smile, fingers toying with Paul's shirt.

          (of course not!)

          (you don't understand!)

           "Paul? Paul, wake up."

           He opened his eyes. Gene was there, leaning over him. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a book and a newspaper on the other side of the bed. Gene had stayed with him.

           "What time is it?"

           "Noon. Are you okay?"

           Paul nodded, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. Looking down, he realized he was still in last night's dress. The nightie's straps beneath it, amazingly, had stayed in place, though the sleeves of the dress had slid a bit. He swallowed, the memories of the night prior trickling in like a drizzle before a thunderstorm, replacing the fragments of his dream, and tugged the sleeves back up to his shoulder.

           "Did I say anything strange?"

           "You were getting kind of twitchy."

           A glance at the kicked-askew bedsheets told Paul that was an understatement.

           "I'm sorry."

           "No, I'm sorry. I should have stopped you."

           "From kicking in my sleep?"

           "From leaving last night."

           Paul looked over at him.

           "What could you have done? Chased down my car?"

           "I could've grabbed you when you were going out the door." Gene grabbed the book—it was one of his old self-help numbers from high school—and set it on the nightstand, possibly the only attempt at putting something away that Paul had ever seen out of him. "Or I could've done what you wanted. It's my fault."

           "It's not your fault at all. You got me out of there." Paul shifted until he was on his side. "If it hadn't been for you, I…"

           "Mary-Anne was taking care of you."

           "She… she was, wasn't she? She must've thought I was so stupid." He shook his head. "I don't know how you knew where to look for me."

           "I didn't. It was just a guess."

           "I shouldn't have gone off. I guess I wanted to… I don't know what I wanted." Paul paused. "I'm okay. I promise."

           "Are you sure nothing—"

           "Nothing happened." Paul tried to smile, weakly. "I wouldn't still be in this shape if something had."

           "If anybody touched you, then—"

           "It's fine. I'm fine."

           "Paul, you're not fine." Gene swallowed. "Somebody spiked your drink."

           Paul didn't answer for a long moment.

           "Nobody spiked my drink."

           "What?"

           "I said nobody spiked my drink. I took the 'ludes myself."

           He didn't want to look Gene in the face. He didn't want to see the disappointment and disgust there, now that he knew that Paul had drugged himself when he was already in danger. That he hadn't been innocent. That had to have done it for Gene. Wrecked any chance of leftover fondness or want.

           "Why?"

           "Because I couldn't stand the thought of fucking some random guy sober." Paul exhaled. "I didn't realize I couldn't stand the thought of fucking him trashed, either."

           "Paul—"

           "It's okay, all right?"

           He was surprised when Gene gathered him up in his arms. His breaths hitched, all of him just tightening, tightening up at first. Gene almost let go then, but then Paul grabbed him, burying his face against Gene's neck.

           He didn't deserve that kind of comfort out of Gene after what he'd done. Worrying Gene. Risking his own safety. He knew it, but that didn't make him any less greedy for it. He remembered, in blurred-out fragments, Gene's hold on him in CBGB last night, Gene's arm around him in the limo. Gene wiping his face off with the towel. He remembered leaning into all that warmth, too 'luded out to even quite understand it, only recognize that it was there for him, despite everything.

           Hopeless. So hopeless. But he kept holding on anyway, grateful, pathetically grateful, holding on longer than he should have, breathing in the scent of Gene's skin. Closer than he'd ever let himself get before. Closer, maybe, than he'd ever get again. Gene hadn't even gotten dressed yet, was still in his boxers, and his bare arms around him felt so good, so reassuring, it almost hurt. Paul shut his eyes and peeled himself away, not wanting to wait for Gene to let go first.

           "It's really… it's okay."

           And then he got up. He felt more clearheaded than he'd expected. Peter had told him 'ludes kept him from waking up with a hangover after a night of partying, but he'd never really believed him until now. Except for the acrid taste of vomit and morning breath still in his mouth, he felt… bizarrely enough, he almost felt refreshed, physically. He crossed over to the master bathroom, brushing his teeth and gargling with mouthwash before returning to the bedroom. He walked over to the closet door, where the other blouse and dress that he'd bought still hung from coathangers. "I… I'm gonna get dressed. Which one do you want?"

           "Paul, they're your clothes."

           Paul chewed on his lip and took the dress off its hanger, lining it up level against him. The hem fell two or three inches above his knee. He turned around, dress in hand, and started to head back to the bathroom, but Gene spoke again before he got there.

           "Don't wear things just because you think I'll like them."

           "I'm not."

           "Paul." Gene got up from the bed. "I gave it a lot of thought last night. I haven't helped you out like I needed to."

           "Gene, all you've done is help me out."

           "I've hurt your self-respect. I told you what to do. I made you dependent on me."

           "I was depending on you way before this. You just didn't realize it."

           "Not that way." Gene walked up to him. Paul draped the dress over one arm like a waiter's napkin. "I made you feel like you had to—to wear things, to do things, to keep my attention. I never should've—"

           "That's not true."

           "Yeah, it is. Last night, before you left…" Gene's gaze lowered to the floor before lifting back to meet Paul's. "I didn't know why you were acting like that. I'd thought you wanted me."

           There it was. There it was, closer than Paul had ever dared to put it himself. There was his chance. He could shut it all down right now, seal off any hope of Gene ever getting close enough to hurt again, do what last night had, somehow, failed to manage. Drive Gene away with an assurance that what he'd done, he'd done out of practicality. Tell Gene he'd used him all the way around, that every flirt, every kiss, had just been a means to an end. Lie to him the way he couldn't lie to himself.

           He had to struggle to keep looking Gene in the eye. The nerves that the Quaaludes and drinks had destroyed were all back again; he was keenly, so keenly aware of what he stood to lose. Gene's expression was guilty, almost penitent, and that hurt, too, but—maybe there was something past that. Maybe there was still some desire left in him. Maybe, even, if it wasn't the same as what Paul felt, it would still be okay. Paul wanted to believe that. He took a breath, and said three words.

           "You weren't wrong."

           "What?"

           "I did want you."

           "C'mon, Paul. You know my ego could use a little knocking down."

           "I did want you. I do want you."

           "Paul—"

           It felt like he was walking through water, every movement artificially slowed down. Two steps to close in on Gene. The reach of his hand to touch Gene's face, the morning stubble he hadn't yet shaved, tugging his chin down to kiss him. Just once, quickly, softly. Gene didn't stiffen up, didn't draw back, but he didn't answer immediately, either. As he broke the kiss, looking at Gene, trying to gauge his expression, Paul realized, offhand, that he'd had to raise up on the balls of his feet just to reach him. He hadn't even noticed.

           "You're not gonna want me after. I know that."

           "I don't know that I'd say that."

           "I would." Paul's mouth crooked upward, only a little wobbly. The words seemed to spill out of him like the water from a burst dam. "That's why I acted like that. That's why I left, because I knew."

           "Paul, listen—" Gene started, but Paul cut him off.

           "It's okay. I… I haven't treated you right. You've been real good to me and I—" Paul shook his head. "Let's try, all right? If you still want to—I wanna try."

           "I—"

           "I don't think I could go all the way yet. But I wanna be with you."

           "Don't push yourself. Especially not after last night."

           "I'm not pushing myself."

           "Paul, I'm serious."

           "I'm serious, too."

           Gene didn't answer for awhile. Paul felt frozen in front of him, biting back a thousand more words, swallowing every impulse to spill his guts even further. He wouldn't hold eight years of want over Gene's head like a ransom that needed to be paid. He wouldn't beg Gene again. He wouldn't yell at him, or throw a fit. And he wouldn't—he wouldn't give himself up, any more than he had already. He couldn't.

           Gene's hand touched his cheek. He seemed to be thinking. Gene always seemed to be thinking. Paul took a few quick breaths, until Gene bent his head and met Paul's lips with his own. Warm lips he'd already half-given up on touching again. Paul kissed back hard, suddenly desperate, arms looping around the back of Gene's neck. Beyond eager, beyond grateful, wanting to erase the memory of last night on the bed. Touching him the way he'd wanted to before. Kissing him the way he'd wanted to before, the way he'd done when they were dancing. Gene's tongue was in his mouth, one hand tangling against in his hair while the other tugged him tight against him.

           Paul was getting wet, like before, trying to grind against Gene like he still had a dick, like any movement of his hips right now, standing up, was granting him half the friction it was giving Gene. Gene was tugging him backwards before long, back towards the bed. Paul let him. His whole body felt hot and just on the verge, already unraveled over so little. Gene eased him into sitting on the bed and he scooted backwards, swinging his legs across the bed.

           Gene didn't go for the zipper of his dress this time. He seemed almost cautious, only kissing him on the mouth and neck, not yet even groping his chest. Paul reached behind him, sliding the zipper down, down, sliding the dress off. More purposely exposed than Gene had seen him until now, nothing remaining but the thin, purple nightie and panties. He was trying not to squirm as he felt Gene's gaze on him, but he couldn't seem to help himself, fingers curling around the nightie's hem. When he'd put it on late yesterday afternoon, he'd realized how short it was, the hem only barely skirting the upper part of his thighs, and how the silky material strained against his breasts. It had sort of warmed him, then, made him feel a little hopeful, a little desirable. Now, he wasn't so sure.

           "Do you like it?"

           "Yeah. It looks good on you."

           "I got it for you."

           Gene hesitated.

           "That's what I mean, you don't need to wear things to—"

           "I'm not—"

           "What… what I mean is, you had my attention already."

           Paul felt the heat rise in his cheeks. He didn't know how to answer that. Gene didn't seem to be waiting on an answer, anyway, one hand sliding up his thigh, beneath the nightie, tracing the soft skin there and the spreading wetness on his panties. His other hand went for one breast, squeezing it, sending another surge of need through Paul's body. He'd tried groping his own breasts a few times, before Gene came, never getting anywhere with it. It had been about as pleasurable as rubbing a hand against his knee. But now that Gene was touching them, tweaking one already-hard nipple and then the other, Paul found himself groaning, back arching. On some level it was almost humiliating, to be crying out over so little. Gene's other hand had only barely started rubbing him through the damp fabric.

           Gene tugged Paul up on his lap before long, Paul's legs splayed on either side of him, the nightie bunched up above his hips. Gene's erection was rubbing up against him, too tantalizingly close to be avoidable now, and Paul held his breath, half-expecting Gene's slow strokes to stop entirely, but they didn't. Paul grunted a bit, tugging the elastic of Gene's boxers down just enough to free his dick.

           "Lemme suck you off," he urged, starting to scoot back, although the twitch of Gene's fingers, finally sliding beneath his panties, made it almost impossible to want to get off of him for that long. "You haven't gotten a damn thing out of this yet."

           "I don't know about that." Gene was smiling, running his fingers against his slick folds, Paul pushing his hips forward to meet them. "Just give me a hand here. I've got a great view."

           "C'mon, you… you can't just want a handjob." It had to be disappointing enough just keeping it to fooling around in the first place with him. Paul hadn't even been brave enough to take off the nightgown. Paul grasped Gene's dick anyway, almost unprompted, his own strokes firmer and more assured than he'd expected. He watched Gene take a deep breath, his cock already twitching a bit in his hand. "I've blown guys before, I'm not a virgin there—"

           "Maybe later." Gene grinned, pressed a kiss to his throat. "You know, I never actually got to see you relax the other night." His finger ran lightly across the edge of his clit, too lightly.

           "You felt it," Paul protested, distracted. It was already getting hard to concentrate. He didn't want to halfass it, especially when part of him could still barely believe it was happening at all. Especially when he knew, from rare, scattered conversations early on when they'd toured, that Gene tried to avoid masturbating much—which had always struck Paul as weird. Gene's selective orthodoxy and hang-ups were so baffling. He shifted, rolling his hips harder against Gene's fingers and hand.

           "Let me see it."

           Oh. Oh. Paul was crying out again, cursing as he tried to focus, keep a rhythm going despite his own arousal. The precome already dripping from the tip was gratifying, Gene's breaths getting ragged, but he didn't know if it was enough. Gene kept watching him, watching his face. Every high-pitched sound that came out of Paul's throat was hotly embarrassing, not in the least because Gene was quieter in comparison, while Paul's moaning was only ever covered up when his lips met Gene's. But Gene was getting less cautious now, groping his breasts beneath the nightie instead of just through it, the skin-on-skin sensation almost overwhelming. His other hand, caught between Paul's thighs, was certain, slipping along his folds, finger running small strokes against the hood and clit.

          Gene was already closer than he was. Paul could tell that by the feel of his dick in his hand, and the expressions crossing his face, making him redouble his efforts. Paul’s vision swam, his own concentration faltering far before Gene came, groaning lowly, spurting mostly in his hand and on his dick, a bit of come ending up on Paul’s bare thigh. Paul let go, bracing his damp hand on the bed, leaning forward. Gene’s own hand had gone almost still between his legs. The blissed-out look on Gene’s face almost made up for it.

          “Hey, Paul, you haven’t—” Gene started, fingers moving again, not quite as intently as before. Paul grabbed his wrist, tugging it back.

          “Wait. Let’s try something else.”

          Gene looked a little confused but moved his hand away, starting to rest it on his leg. Paul shook his head.

          “Not there. I need that.”

          “You need that?” Gene furrowing his brows post-coital would’ve been funny, if Paul wasn’t battling his own arousal. The heat was starting to rise in his cheeks as he took Gene by the wrist again, setting it on the sheets. He wasn’t quite able to look Gene in the eye again yet, so he ran his fingers against the warm, soft fabric of his boxers, rolling up the hem of one leg slightly, mouth pursed.

          “You’ll see.”

          Paul closed his eyes briefly, breaths heavy, and scooted in closer, shifting until he was straddling one of Gene’s thighs. He made only a token effort at wiping his right hand off on the sheet before clasping both hands around the back of Gene’s neck, as he started to rub himself against Gene’s leg.

          Gene’s lips parted in surprise. Unbelievably, he actually looked like he didn’t know what to do at first, hands taking awhile to find their way back to Paul, one resting on his shoulder while the other slipped back under the nightie to rove over his stomach and back up to his breasts. Pairing that with Paul’s own grinding made it all the more intense, stimulation almost overwhelming. His damp panties were barely a barrier, exactly the extra friction he needed as he rocked his hips in short, quick bursts. Every so often, his leg would brush up against Gene’s dick—still soft for now, but still its own sharp thrill. Warm. As long as he was this close, this wet, he wasn’t nearly so worried about how letting him, about how actually fucking, would end it. It was just something else spurring on his arousal, a promise of something to come.

          “You’re killing me, Paul.”

          “Yeah?” Paul’s mouth twitched into a small smile as Gene tugged him into a kiss.His legs were clamping tight around Gene’s thigh nearly of their own accord, amping up the pressure, concentrating it. Paul was panting and groaning again before long. His clit was throbbing, the wetness that had already soaked through his underwear going past it, making Gene’s bare skin and the edge of his boxers slightly slick.  Easy to push and rub up against, find the exact right rhythm to leave him breathless.

          But it wasn’t quite enough until Gene pulled him forward just a bit, just until Paul found himself panting against his neck. Paul sped up a little, hips rocking, moans and curses all he seemed able to manage as the pleasure built up, closer, closer. He realized, dimly, that he was starting to finally get used to this body, figure out what he liked now, how to get off. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, not that it mattered right now. Gene was still watching, his gaze, the unfettered, needy want there making Paul feel heady. Looking him right in the eye was better than before, better than it had been in the dark. He cried out again, sharply, as he finally came, clutching Gene hard as he rode out his orgasm. It was a few seconds before he let go, Gene’s grip on his shoulder not loosening up until Paul relaxed his legs again.

          “Gene,” he said. “That… that was good.”

          “Yeah? Good.” Gene grinned. “You look cute when you come.”

          Paul glanced down reflexively at the comment, shaking his head. The spunk on his hand and on the sheets was long since clotted up. He started to get up from Gene’s thigh, a little shakily, straightening his underwear and pushing down the nightie with his clean hand. He felt a little like apologizing—it couldn’t have been that good for Gene, who probably hadn’t had a chick stop at a handjob with him in ten years, and Paul knew he couldn’t have been that fun to watch get off, either, if only because of what it wasn’t—but Gene didn’t look unhappy with the way things had gone at all. He looked pleased, maybe almost sated, running his hand almost possessively down the wet spot Paul had left behind on his thigh and boxers, rubbing the fluid between his fingertips. Paul’s face felt hot as Gene brought his fingers to his lips.

          “You taste pretty good, too.”

           “Aw, c’mon, Gene--”

          “You do.”

          Paul shook his head, but his heart was beating a hard, hopeful cadence at the words. He didn't quite feel sated. There was a weird leftover warmth in him, a deep-down feeling that he could probably go again without much trouble, but he felt like he'd asked too much of Gene already. It'd probably be another ten minutes at least before Gene could get hard again.

           "Uh. Lemme get you a towel or something, then we can… I don't know, I can fix some toast…" Paul trailed, awkward as all hell, starting to scoot off the bed. He'd forgotten how to handle anyone in the after. Gene, especially. Gene looked at him as if he were about to laugh.

           "You'll really leave it at that?"

           "I'm not leaving it at anything." Paul tried to rearrange his face into as bland an expression as he could, too keenly aware of how tightly he was still pressing his thighs together. Gene laughed, tugging him back up by the arm, back nearly into place on his lap. He wasn't facing him head-on this time, at first, but he turned his head, a vague sort of hope making his pulse flit. "C'mon, Gene, I know you can't—"

           "You have a hard time enjoying anything, don't you?"

           Oh, God. Just like last time, Gene was picking the worst point possible to start asking questions. Paul hesitated.

           "I enjoy plenty."

           "You're still soaking." Gene had gone for the hem of the nightie, tugging it up and pressing a finger against his panties, making Paul twitch anew. "I bet you could go again. Maybe more than once."

           "I don't know— "

           "You wanna try?" Gene leaned in, kissing the top of his head. Just as easy and thoughtless as if they really were together. As if this wasn't going to evaporate the second Paul gathered up enough nerve to give in entirely.  Why shouldn't he be thoughtless about it? I want you was all Paul had managed to own up to.

           Paul shoved those thoughts aside as hard as he could, and turned around entirely, tracing his hand down Gene's chest. Gene, to his credit, barely winced at the cold, not nearly inadvertent smear of come from Paul's hand.

           "Depends. Would you go down on me for it?"

           The glint in Gene's eye gave him away long before he even licked his lips.

#kiss the band #kiss fanfiction #gene simmons #paul stanley #gene simmons x paul stanley

[ubernoxa]

A Stupid Dare - Chapter 11: A Pair of Idiots 

A Guns N’ Roses FanFic

Chapter Summary: Duff and Delilah being cute. That’s it. That’s the chapter

“Good morning,” Delilah woke to Duff’s hot breath on her back.

“Good morning, Duffles,” Delilah giggled back at Duff’s confused reaction.

“Duffles?”

“Yeah, Duffles,” Delilah replied messing up his already messy bleached puff of hair.

“I’m gonna go make some breakfast,” Delilah wiggled her way out of Duff’s arms. Once she stood up she immediately felt Duff pull her back down.

“Hey!” Delilah squealed as she fell back onto the mattress.

“What’s up?” Duff asked as he wrapped his arms gently around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder.

“Hopefully the roof, I’m not a fan of getting rained on,” Delilah replied earning a chuckle from Duff and a frustrated groan from Slash.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to wake you,” Delilah said as Slash’s eyes fluttered open.

“It’s okay,” He lied as he rolled over and covered his head with a pillow.

Once he heard her leave, Slash threw his pillow over towards where Duff sat.

“what the fuck!” Duff easily caught the pillow that was thrown at him.

“I’m not saying that I want you two to have sex in your bed because I don’t wanna see that, but you seriously need to fuck her or something,” Slash said in a hushed tone, so Delilah wouldn’t hear him.

“Dude,”

“Seriously, it was absolutely painful watching you last night. Don’t get me started on this morning. How long were you watching her sleep. That’s creepy shit if I ever knew it,” Slash defensively held his arms up as he spoke.

“Slash,” Duff sighed as he plopped back into his.

“I don’t care how fuckin cute she looks. Just fuck her. Fuck her then date her. Date her and then fuck her. I don’t care just do something. If you won’t I will,” Duff threw the pillow back at Slash nailing him in the face.

“Chill out Duff, I’m only fucking with you. Just be more blunt with her about your intentions,,” Slash laugh before rolling back and went back to sleep.

Delilah stood in the kitchen searching through the cabinets hoping to find something to make for breakfast for the guys.

“Looking for something?” Delilah almost jumped as someone wrapped their arms around her waist.

“Food,” Delilah’s words were no louder than a whisper.

“What are you making?” Duff quickly opened the fridge to look through the food that Mags and the other girls had bought for them.

“I don’t know, maybe breakfast bowls?”

“Delly, what’s that?” Delilah’s heart skipped a beat when she heard him call her Delly.

“Well Duffles,” she paused and looked at the sly grin that was plastered on his face. She smiled to herself as she noticed that he might actually like her nickname for him. Little did she know that Duff would let her call him anything.

“A breakfast bowl is a bunch of random meat, potatoes, eggs, and vegetables. My brother and I would make it all the time back home. It looks like you don’t have any eggs, so random meat and potatoes it is,” Delilah shrugged as she found a bag of potatoes in a random cabinet.

She looked cute with her hair an absolute mess. Duff gently tucked a long strand of hair behind her petite ear. They locked eyes for a moment and both of them froze.

Delilah was panicking. She was internally screaming. Should she say something? Should she mess with his hair? Should she go and cook?

“Hey Del, are you making us food?” Axl’s words caused Delilah to take a step away from Duff and turn towards Axl. It was like the spell that had been casted over her and Duff had been lifted.

“Breakfast bowls,” Delilah smiled when she received a smile from him.

“Duff, are these potatoes good? Or have they gone bad?” Delilah rambled as she handed one of the potatoes to Duff. He immediately sniffed it and shrugged.

“Seem fine to me,” he shrugged back to Delilah.

“What do you ever know about potatoes?” The words sounded sour as they left Axl’s mouth. He clearly wasn’t a morning person.

“They don’t give the last name McKagan to the French,” Duff cockily replied.

———-

Delilah stood in Mag’s bathroom staring at her reflection. If only her parents could see her now, a smirk unknowingly formed on her lips.

“You should wear this,” Mags handed Delilah a ‘skirt’ as Mags called it.

“Mags this ‘skirt’ is barely longer than the one I wore when we first met,” Delilah protested as she held the fabric in her hands.

“This skirt, unlike the fabric you wore that night we met, is form fitting and won’t flash every living soul,” Mags quickly rebuttaled as she walked into the bathroom.

“Why can’t I wear pants?” Delilah wined leaning back on the toilet.

“Because it’s going to be 104 degrees Fahrenheit out tonight. I dont want you to pass out or melt from the heat!”

“Don’t underestimate me, I once wore a floor length dress with long sleeves in 90 plus degree weather,” Delilah teased back earning a laugh from Mags.

“Oh Honey,” Mags shouted emphasizing the O in honey.

“Unless your dress was made of leather, it’s not comparable. Your dress let your skin breathe. You will BOIL if you wear those pants. I love you Del but COME ON,” Mags replied as she comically waved her arms in the air for added dramatic effect.

“Plus girl you got legs that are to die for. Why not show them off?” Mags added earning a smile from Delilah.

“Fine!” Delilah agreed and put on the skirt. Even though this skirt was only a little longer than her old one, she almost felt comfortable in it.

“So who is Motley Crue?”

“They are the band the boys are opening for tonight. They are all borderline insane and from some of the shit I see them pull, I don’t know how they are still alive,” Mag’s laughter filled the bathroom where the two of them were getting ready.

“Oh,” was all Delilah could reply.

“This one guy Nikki, I have seen him light himself on fire both on stage and at parties. Im also pretty sure their guitarist is a vampire or alien or something. Their singer is hot though, but he knows it. I honestly don’t remember the last time I saw him without a girl literaly swooning over him. Their drummer is a sweetheart at times though, BUT those are the ones you gotta watch out for. They are a little much for me, so I usually stay away from them,” Mags focuses on the mirror as she spoke trying to fix her makeup. She wanted to look perfect for Derek tonight. Also known as the guy who she has been spending every other night with. She was excited to introduce him to Delilah and Stevie.

“A little much?”

“They make great music, but they are comple sleze bags too. The Nikki guy who lights himself on fire, he is the worst,” Mags added leaving the bathroom leaving Delilah alone.

“Hey it’s my favorite girls!” Delilah smiled as Stevie hugged the two of them as they entered the back stage area.

“Wow this place is nice,” Mags commented on the clean doors and mirrors. On top of everything there were even multiple rooms backstage.

The girls quickly followed Stevie who was in no way sober to a door that had a piece of torn paper with Guns N’ Roses written on it in sloppy handwriting.

“Look what the trash dragged it!” Stevie yelled as he walked into the small room.

“Cat not trash Stevie. Nice try though. It might help next time if you were a little less drunk,” Mags teased.

Everyone was sitting around drinking, well everyone except Axl and Izzy.

“Hey Delly!” Delilah smiled at Duff who motioned for her to come sit next to him. She walked over towards him without hesitation and plopped down next to him. To say she had been waiting all afternoon to see him was an understatement. She even wrote a couple of puns to hopefully get a laugh out of Duff.

Mag quickly shot her brother a raised eyebrow as she watched Delilah or ‘Delly’ sit next to Duff who immediately shrugged and sat down next to Slash. He loved his sister dearly, but he wasn’t gonna cock block his band mate for the rest of his life. He tried, but some things will always find a way. Atleast it was Duff and not Axl.

“So are you girls coming to the party tonight,” Slash asked only shortly realizing what was going on. He was too preoccupied with his guitar earlier.

“Party?” Delilah asked as Duff pulled Delilah onto his lap earning a glare from Mags.

“Yeah with Crue. They always have these big parties at their place after they play. Are you coming?” Duff asked as he mindlessly played with her hair.

“Mags you going?” Delilah asked across the room.

Mags wanted nothing more than to say no, and forbid Delilah from going. She sighed. She wasn’t Delilah’s Mom and it wasn’t her place. The least she could do was look after the girl.

“Hell yeah” Stevie turned towards his sister, and this time it was his turn to send a confused look her way. Mags hated the boys of Motley Crue more than she hated Axl. Why did she agree to go?

Little did he know that Mags wanted to yell no. She wanted to ‘forbid’ Delilah from going because she knew what happened at those parties, but she couldn’t. If she said no it would bring both unwanted drama and stores she would have to share which she was in no mood to share, so she agreed to go. At least this way she could also keep an eye on Delilah.

—————

“You were amazing!” Delilah cheered as Duff and the rest of the guys walked in from the stage.

“Not tooo shabby!” Mags gave her brother a hug after a performance well done not giving a care in the world about him being drenched in sweat. She was proud. It was about time that all of his hard work was paying off.

Stevie and Mags led their small group back to their room backstage or as Delilah earlier called it the kingdom of booze.

Before Delilah could walk away and meet up with Mags at the front of the line she felt Duff’s fingers intertwine with hers. She froze and shot a confused looked towards him.

“Come Delly, walk with me,” he whispered into her ear before placing his cowboy hat onto her head. She looked even cuter with the giant smile that formed on her face. She was beautiful.

She obliged. Her heart felt like it was going to explode. She assumed only drunk Duff saw her as attractive, and sober Duff only saw her as a friend, nothing more.

“Did ya like the show?”

“Yeah, I just told you I did Duffy,” she giggled back.

“Well I like you saying that you liked the show,” his smile was setting her heart on fire. Butterflies were causing chaos in her stomach as she tried to form some sort of reply.

“Hey, did you hear about the new restaurant on the strip? It’s called Karama and they don’t have a menu!” Delilah asked Duff mentally preparing herself to make sure she didn’t mess up the joke.

“How do you know what to order?” Duff asked curious into where she was going with this.

“There’s no menu because you get what you deserve,” the two of them laughed like idiots.

Izzy and Duff groaned as they heard Delilah’s pun. “Ohh God it’s a match made in hell,” Izzy muttered under his breath so only slash could hear.

“What’s that?” Mags asked as she pointed to Duff and Delilah holding hands.

“My bassist and your friend,” Stevie causally replied as he poured himself a drink waiting for her to freak out.

“Were you...I don’t know...supposed to cock block him and your entire band?” Mags sarcastically asked stealing her brother’s drink. Was she happy? No. Not even in the slightest.

She then watched as Duff and Delilah walked in giggling about what Mags could only assume to be one of his stupid puns. That’s when her heart melted a little. Only a couple of hours ago was Delilah on the verge of tears about leaving her family and her old life behind.

Stevie smiled as he noticed Mags relax when Duff and Delilah walked into the room laughing and giggling without a care in the world. How was he supposed to keep those two apart? Hell he would bet that they would lighten a dark room.

“Well I did at first, but this isn’t what happened last time. From what I heard they’re taking it slow. Duff might do stupid things, but I trust him to watch over her. He’s a good guy. Plus how am I supposed to keep those two apart,” Stevie pointed over towards Delilah who currently had a strand of Duff’s hair places above her upper lip like a mustache. They were acting like a pair of idiots.

Mags remained silent as she watched the two of them giggle. Delilah needed this. Mags knew Delilah needed someone to distract her and cheer her up, but she just wished it could have been her instead of Duff.

“Hey Mags,” Delilah shouted across the room noticing her friends saddened mood. Delilah went to return Duff’s hat, bur he quickly gave it back to her whispering into her ear, “Delly this looks way better on you,” followed by a quick kiss on her cheek. He could feel Mags stares across the room.

“Wanna go and listen to the show?” Delilah added as she finished her drink and walked over towards Mags who quickly followed her. Delilah was hoping that watching Motley Crue would raise Mag’s spirit. She hated seeing Mags down.

The two girls walked towards the stage. The original plan was to watch the show from the audience, but Mags quickly changed her mind when she noticed how packed the bar was. She always admired Crue fans, but they were ‘alot’ and Mags didn’t want Delilah to feel uncomfortable. She heard that a could girls were taking their bras off and throwing them at Vince during the show. They found a spot backstage where they could clealy hear the music while keeping out of the groupie’s way.

About half way through the set, Mags finally got the courage to ask Delilah the question that had been burning at her, “so you and Duff?”

“I have no idea. He so sweet and kind and funny, but I don’t know if he likes me back. What if he is just being nice?”

Mags laughed at Delilah’s cluelessness. “Del, first off he calls you Delly. He is making lists of real bad puns and jokes for you to laugh at. Don’t get me started on the way he looks at you,” Delilah blushed at Mag’s words even though they came out more of frustrated than sweet.

Mags froze for a second and wondered if Duff was Delilah’s first crush. She never heard Delilah once mention any guys outside her ex fiancé.

“So you’re not a fan of Duff,” Delilah raised her eyebrow.

“Ugh, how do I explain it,” Mags grunted and leaned back against the wall.

“He is going to be a rockstar. I’ve been on this strip long enough to know what happens here,” Mags watched as all of the excitement that once filled Delilah evaporate. Mags was mentally scolding herself. Why did her mouth deceive her like that?

“I just thought,” Mags watched as Delilah pull her knees into her chest.

“Well how about we make a deal,” Mags paused waiting for Delilah to look up.

“A deal?”

“You can date Duff, but if he hurts you I will beat the living hell out of him,” Delilah nodded and laughed as Mags hugged her.

“Come on let’s get back to the guys, cow girl. There is a huge after party that you are not going to want to be sober for,” their laughter filled the hallway as the walked back towards the room.

#guns and roses #duff mckagan #gunsandroses #axl rose #gnr #axl #duff mckagan / oc #slash #guns n roses #steven adler #the dare fanfic #the dare