#what's the exchange rate on my dignity

[daesukiii]

Pairing: biker Wooyoung x barista gn!Reader

Genre: Fluff, light angst barely there

Warnings: Cursing, mean customer who throws hot coffee

WC: 1809

Summary: Customer service sucks, and today even more so. But a certain regular makes it better.

Yes, yet another wooyo fic LOL im sorry but i love this man and biker wooyo makes my knees weak

-

“(Y/N), your favourite customer is here,” Keonhee peeks his head around the back, wriggling his eyebrows at you as you make a face at him. “He’s looking especially fine today, you know.”

As you walk past him, you try to shove at his shoulder but Keonhee dodges and giggles. “What a butt,” you roll your eyes at him with no maliciousness. He isn’t wrong anyway. Every Friday, a group of bikers would come in and order a bunch of coffee. When you first started working here, they terrified you, but as time went on, you slowly got used to them and even came to enjoy their company.

And yes, one of them has caught your eye. Not that it was any of Keonhee’s business. But god damn was he fine. The gang itself was filled to the brim with young, handsome guys who would send even the most stoic person into a blushing mess. But there was something about this guy—Wooyoung, you learned his name was after overhearing their conversation—that just sparked something in your gut.

Maybe it was the way he smiled or his loud laugh that you could hear even in the back storage room. Or maybe it was the way he always included a lollipop along with his (very generous) cash tip. And the way he was nice to look at helped as well.

To your surprise, the rest of his friends were nowhere to be seen. It’s weird enough to see him on a Tuesday. “Hi, fancy seeing you here today,” you greet him, wiping your hands on your apron. “Your usual today?”

“Hey, it’s my favourite employee!” Wooyoung beams as soon as you come into view and you can’t help but smile back. “What’s popping, dude?”

Wooyoung leans forward, elbows propped on the counter, and it takes all your willpower not to stare at the sliver of chest showing. “Nah,” Wooyoung drawls. “I’ll try something else. What do you reccommend, doll?”

You try your hardest to keep your face still but even if you succeed you’re sure your burning face gives you away. “Trying something new?” you ask, attempting to cover up your awkwardness.

Wooyoung’s smile widens. “Yeah, I think I will. What’s your favourite drink?”

Is he flirting? You’re not quite sure. It sounds like he is but you’re also a pessimist and would much rather go for the safer option. “Ah, I know you like your coffee strong, but I actually don’t drink it. I prefer a matcha latte, but if you prefer coffee I can ask my coworker?”

Wooyoung shakes his head, his smile unwavering. “That’s okay, I’ll try your favourite drink. You can make it just how you like it.” He punctuates his sentence with a wink and you immediately busy yourself with the register, avoiding his eye contact so that you can calm your heart rate down. Surely he’s got to be flirting now? Sometimes you hate your obliviousness.

You know Keonhee is absolutely listening in on your exchange and you accept your fate of getting teased for the next four shifts until Friday rolls around and he finds new blackmail material. “This one is on the house,” you attempt to regain some dignity by keeping your voice steady “as thanks for being such loyal customers.”

Before Wooyoung can protest or even say anything, you quickly process the order and turn to make the drink, willing your face to cool down in the process. As you mentioned, you don’t know what it is about Wooyoung that makes you flustered and become so socially inept.

As you are pouring the finished drink into the cup the door opens and the bell tinkles. “I’ll be with you in a moment,” you call out, slightly thankful for the distraction but also mildly annoyed you can’t spend more time with Wooyoung on your own.

“Here’s your drink,” you hand it to Wooyoung over the counter, “enjoy!”

He smiles at you and you return it before heading back to take the next customer’s order. “Hello! Sorry for the wait, what can I do for you?” Before you can even say anything, the middle-aged lady gives you a once-over and you already know what kind of customer she will be.

“That’s fine, I guess,” she sniffs and waves her hand dismissively. “Can I get two hot chai lattes with oat milk and four pumps of syrup?”

“What type of syrup? All our flavours are listed here.” You motion towards the plastic taped to the counter. Apparently, this was the wrong move because the lady rolled her eyes.

“You don’t have to give me such attitude! I can read perfectly fine! I’ll take the vanilla.”

Your eye twitches and you bite back a snarky reply, instead opting for a polite, “I apologise. I’ll get this done ASAP.” As you input her order, you can feel Wooyoung’s eyes on you. It’s not quite how you wanted him to see you, but that’s just how customer service is, you suppose.

As you finish up, you can hear the lady grumbling under her breath about the disappointing service and you have to take a few deep breaths to avoid letting your temper get the better of you. “Here’s your drinks, ma’am.”

“Finally! You know, I am in a rush, you should hurry up next time,” the lady snaps, snatching the cups from you and taking a sip from one.

“Ma’am, that’s a hot–” you try to warn her but to no avail. The lady chokes, and in her surprise slams the cup down onto the table, creating a mess that you inevitably will have to clean up.

“How dare you!” the lady screams at you as you stare in disbelief. “I am a paying customer!”

“Sorry ma’am,” you grit out. “It does say on the cup that it is a hot beverage, but I can make you a new one if you’d like?”

Your offer was not enough to appease the angry customer and she grabbed the other drink, attempting to throw it at your face. Thankfully, you take a step back and her aim is just as bad as her manners, but it still catches on your shoulder.

Keonhee gasps behind you but before he even has a chance to kick her out, Wooyoung steps forward.

“Get out.” The lady snaps her head towards him, incredulous, and opens her mouth to speak but Wooyoung slams his fist on the counter. “Get out of my sight, and get out of the store. I never want to see you here, or even hear of you here again. Am I clear?”

Without another word, the customer scurries away and Wooyoung turns to look at you. “Uh…I’ll go get the med kit,” Keonhee says, turning tail and leaving you in the front with Wooyoung, but with a completely different vibe surrounding the two of you.

“I’m sorry you had to witness that,” you apologise to Wooyoung, bowling low, but he waves away your apologies.

“Don’t worry about it, that lady was such a bitch,” he scoffs, glancing out the door as if she’d come back. “Tell me if she comes to bother you again. Are you okay though?”

You glance down at the soiled fabric and it’s only then the pain hits you and you wince as you try and shift your shoulder. “It’ll heal. Thankfully it wasn’t too bad and it wasn’t my face.” You peel back the sleeve and both you and Wooyoung wince at the sight of the red flesh.

“(Y/N), I got the med kit,” Keeho calls out as he returns with the white box in one hand and a damp cloth in the other. “Do you need to take the day off? I can have Minho come in to cover for you.”

You start to decline but Wooyoung interrupts. “Yeah, call him in,” Wooyoung stares you down when you try to argue and you’re much too tired to fight him on this. “You’re in no condition to work. I’ll take you to the bus stop and you will rest.”

You look at him for a long moment and Keeho looks unsure about his offer, but you’re not in the mood to argue about this either. “Okay, you win, Wooyoung,” you concede with a sigh. “I’ll take the day off.”

Wooyoung hums, happy with your choice and Keonhee dares to wink at you in full view of Wooyoung, who just laughs smugly. “Come on, then. Do you have everything?”

You nod, and as you walk around the counter towards Wooyoung, he ushers you out with a hand on your lower back and you fight to keep your smile off your face. Maybe that customer was worth it—you get a day off and kinda of get to “hang out” with Wooyoung.

As the two of you walk down the sidewalk, you’re not sure of what to say, or how to even start a conversation. Usually, there’s a counter between you and Wooyoung, but with his hand on you, you apparently can’t think straight. “So, what is your name?” Wooyoung breaks the silence. “I never got it yet.”

“Ah, I’m (Y/N). I’m surprised you didn’t hear my coworker yell it from the backrooms.” Wooyoung laughs.

“I don’t really take to eavesdropping, unlike how you learnt my name,” Wooyoung bumps your good shoulder, a laugh in his voice and you squawk. “I don’t mind, really. We’re a loud bunch, which I’m sure you’ve known by now.”

You laugh a little at that. Your boss is always annoyed at the noise they make but they are regulars and tip well so he can’t do much about that. “So I have. Speaking of which, are they not with you today?”

Wooyoung shakes his head, his bangs falling into his face. “Nah, I wanted to steal you all to myself. And I definitely got more than I bargained for.”

“Oh, my God,” you whisper, ducking your head down to hide your burning face. “How are you so smooth?”

Wooyoung snorts. “I can’t help myself around you,” he teases, poking at your face.

“Oh, hey look, the bus stop! And how lucky, the bus is coming too.” You keep your eyes firmly ahead and Wooyoung laughs as you approach the stop. “Thank you for walking me back, Wooyoung.”

“Hey, of course. I’ll see you Friday?” You nod, turning to board the bus when he grabs your wrist. “Wait, hold on! You need your lollipop!”

Wooyoung fumbles in his pocket before pulling out a lollipop and you laugh, taking it. “Blue raspberry? You’re so basic.”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “I’m so nice to you and this is all I get in return? You don’t deserve to see me Friday, me nor my lollipop stash.”

You laugh at his antics and Wooyoung smiles, proud of your laughter. “I’ll see you Friday, Wooyoung. Thank you.”

#pirateeznet #kvanity #wkcnet #ateez #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez angst #ateez fluff #ateez au #ateez wooyoung #wooyoung #wooyoung fanfiction #wooyoung fanfic #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung angst #wooyoung fluff #wooyoung au

[bro-atz]

the first blow

in which: jinsik has much to learn (wink wonk)

pair: idol!jinsik/gn!reader

word count: 3.2k

content: smut, oral sex, imma be real this is just one bj yes 3k words for one bj i'm insane let's move on, whimpering moaning groaning whining crying jinsik makes all the noises you can possibly imagine, completely consensual!

author's note: happy bday to the jinsik to my seeun @eyeryis we discussed this concept in great length so i hope this is what you were envisioning <3 also the title is so cringe but pls give me a break i just got nothin left in the tank

tag list: @eyeryis apply for the permanent taglist here! part one | part two

Jinsik was always a mess when it came to you. The first time the two of you ever met, he blurted out that he fell for you hard— love at first sight. But, you liked that he was flustered like that. You thought it was cute— you thought he was cute. Super cute. So, you took his confession, and the two of you started (secretly) dating. Well, the other members found out within two months because Jinsik wasn’t the best at keeping you a secret, but the fans didn’t know, nor did they need to.

You would usually hang out at their dorm whenever you knew most of them had schedules and Jinsik did not. Whoever also didn’t have a schedule would still leave and give you and Jinsik time to be alone peacefully. Very thoughtful of them, but they didn’t really need to worry about anything because you and Jinsik were vanilla— extremely vanilla. He didn’t even start kissing you passionately until six months into your relationship. You were taking things very slow, but you went at his pace because he was the one with the demanding career. You? Not so much.

One night, Jinsik told Minjae he wanted to watch a movie with you at the dorm, so Minjae took the rest of the members out to watch a movie but in a theater, leaving the entire dorm just for you and Jinsik. Minjae thought it was going to be a little more than just the movie, but you and Jinsik were simply going to watch a movie and that’s it. Or so you thought.

“A Gentleman’s Dignity? I thought we were watching a movie,” you questioned your boyfriend. “Also, don’t you think we’re a little too young to watch this?”

“What’s wrong with it? It’s not rated R or anything,” Jinsik frowned, his cute pout making your heart swell with love.

“No, I know, but… The actors are all in their 40s. Shouldn’t we watch something like True Beauty or Boys Over Flowers?”

“I mean… I guess we can…”

If your boyfriend had dog ears, they’d definitely be drooping by that point. You cupped his cheeks and left a light peck on his lips before saying, “I was just wondering, baby. You wanna watch A Gentleman’s Dignity? We can.”

“Are you sure? Will you enjoy it?”

“Of course I will. I always like and trust whatever you choose. You chose me, after all.”

Just like that, his mood lifted. He eagerly turned the K-drama on, the two of you sitting on the couch with a throw blanket barely covering the two of you. As the drama started, Jinsik immediately put his arm over your shoulder, and you snuggled into his comfy arms.

You could barely focus on the drama, though. Why? Jinsik, with the hand that wasn’t over your shoulder, slipped his hand to your thigh and rubbed it slowly. You didn’t know if he was consciously doing it or not, but regardless, it stirred something within you. Then, he kissed the top of your head. You looked up at him, surprise reflecting in your eyes. He met your gaze and smiled softly at you, your heart fluttering wildly in your chest. His hand moved from your thigh to your face, and cupping your cheek lightly, he left a soft kiss on your lips. You left a small kiss on his lips in response, and the two of you kept exchanging kisses that slowly intensified into a full string of passionate kisses.

His hand dropped from your face to your waist and pulled you in, the hand that was over your shoulder moving to your hair and burying his fingers there. You body slightly jolted when his warm fingertips slipped under your shirt to run along the curve of your bare waist. You couldn’t believe it; what on Earth was happening? What happened to your shy boy who didn’t go past soft gentle kisses? (Not that you were complaining but) why was he kissing you so hard that you felt your lower lip start to feel tender?

Here’s the thing: Jinsik held off for the longest time. He always got super turned on whenever you did the slightest thing sensual. For instance, you were in the dorm with him and a couple other members of xikers, and he had to nurse his erection when you merely ran your fingers through his hair and lightly massaged his scalp. And the reason why he held off was because he had yet to have his first time, and he didn’t want you to know that. He wanted to be confident and all-knowing in front of you, and having zero experience definitely did not make him feel confident nor all-knowing.

You were excited. You were so happy that he made the move because you had been waiting and wondering for so long that you forget sex was even a thing in romantic relationships. You placed your hand on his crotch and fondled it, massaged it over his pants, his dick getting bigger and firmer and pressing desperately against his pants.

Jinsik, meanwhile, was losing his mind. Between the kissing and the touching, he was slowly slipping away from sanity and his control over his body. He hiccuped slightly, but he didn’t even hear himself because his brain was screaming.

Oh my fuck. Oh my God. Oh my fucking God.

You were loving his reactions to you because it made you think he was just as pent up as you. Technically, he was, but it was more than that because he had never done this before.

The two of you leaned away from each other, and you noticed Jinsik’s face was fifty shades of flustered. He was panting lightly, and his eyes were beginning to glaze over from the pleasure of just you touching him over his clothes. He trembled and sharply inhaled when he felt you cradle his steadily hardening dick in your hand.

“Jinsik, baby?”

“Hngh— Y-yes, Y/N?”

“I wanna make you feel good.”

Jinsik, eyes trembling, asked in a whisper, “How?”

You smiled and leaned in to kiss him, Jinsik happily meeting you halfway. While you made out with him like the rowdy youngsters you were, you worked on unbuttoning and unzipping his pants, your fingers tugging lightly at the thick waistband of his briefs.

Jinsik was practically vibrating at that point. His mind was melting. He cupped your face as an attempt to keep his shit together, to maintain his confidence, while his other hand gripped the sofa cushion so hard that his knuckles were turning white. A little moan left his lips while he kissed you when he felt you stroke his dick lightly, your gentle hands driving him oh so fucking insane to the point where he was trying think about literally anything else to prevent himself from cumming so fast.

By the time you stopped kissing and moved down on him, he was completely shivering and his eyes were blurry with tears and lust. You kneeled before him in between his spread legs— you were going to suck him off (he didn’t need years of experience for him to figure that out).

Then, it suddenly hit him. He had to tell you about his inexperience. He didn’t want to lie to you about this because what if he did something stupid, and then you think he’s an idiot? If you knew that he didn’t know shit about sex, then any mistake he made would be excused. But, if he’s supposed to be a seasoned, real man (aka not a virgin), he’s supposed to know better.

His braincells were bouncing around in his head while you, on the other hand, were just completely enamored with his dick. It was so pretty— it was perfectly straight, just the right girth, just the right length— your boyfriend had the model penis, and you were seriously thirsting for it. You held his dick somewhat firmly and were about to take him into your mouth when he stopped you by slipping his hand under your jaw.

“Y/N, wait, I…” Jinsik pressed his lips together and squeezed his eyes shut when he saw you looking up at him with big, beautiful eyes because that view also excited him too much. After taking a little breath, he met your gaze again and said in the smallest voice, “I gotta tell you something.”

“Yeah…?” you eyed him, suddenly worrying about whether or not he had an STD.

“I’ve never done this before…”

“What do you mean?”

“This… This is, um, my first time…” Jinsik’s voice faded as he said the last two words, but you heard him.

“Your first time for…?”

“All of it. Everything.”

When you did nothing but stare at him with wide eyes, Jinsik immediately regretted telling you the truth. Fuck, he messed up and now he was going to die of embarrassment. But, you were shocked at the revelation because it explained so much of his behavior previously in your relationship. You hummed lightly as you thought about what to say to him to calm the poor boy down.

“So,” you started softly while stroking his dick lightly. “Does that mean I’m your first?”

Jinsik blinked a couple times, confused on where the conversation was going. “Yes,” he answered after a heartbeat or two.

You couldn’t help but smile upon receiving the information. You left a kiss on the length— making the boy tremble— and observed it while still dry rubbing. Keeping your eyes down, you whispered, “…That kinda turns me on.”

Completely missing what you said because you were so quiet and the blood rushing through his body was too loud, Jinsik leaned in slightly, only to snap right back into his original position when drew circles on his tip lightly with your fingernails. Before he could let out some raunchy noise, he bit his lower lip— and of course, he had to bite his lip in the way that makes him look sexy because he had to save at least some face.

“We all have to start somewhere, and I’m grateful to be the one that shows you, Jinsik… But, I don’t want to push you into anything. So, if at any point you’re uncomfortable or scared and want to stop, just use the safe word: “Tricky”.”

“Why Tricky…?”

“Because I’ll think about Tricky, and I don’t wanna be thinking about Tricky while being intimate with you,” you couldn’t help but laugh, making Jinsik smile in the process.

“Oh… Okay.”

“Shall we get started?”

Lips quivering, Jinsik returned a small nod, and you started. You took just the tip of his dick into your mouth first, making a satisfying popping sound as you released. You lapped him up like a lollipop, Jinsik gasping sharply at the sensation. He didn’t know what to do with his hands at that point (his brain was so far gone that he didn’t know how to do anything), so he was holding onto the edge of the sofa cushions, the cushion completely flattened under his grasp.

When you stopped teasing him and started sucking for real, a good majority of his cock in your mouth, Jinsik let out a tiny, high squeak, making him immediately cover his mouth. His face was beet red. He hated that he was making all of these mortifying noises for you instead of something deeper like a long sigh, or a groan. He was trying to do that, but no, his body wanted to betray him instead.

You were absolutely obsessed with the noises he was making. Every whimper, whine, tiny moan, squeak, hiccup— whatever he did, you loved it for two reasons: one, you knew for a fact that he was enjoying it; two, it was so much better than some jock moaning lowly and growling about your mouth was made for him or some other shit like that. Jinsik was different; he was refreshing.

Every time you moved your head further towards his waist, you moaned and sighed— fuck, you were enjoying this too because, somehow, his cock tasted just as sweet as he was. Adding your hand to the mix, you blew Jinsik while also rubbing your hand in the same direction, occasionally pressing your fingers into his cock, squeezing it the tiniest bit.

“Mmm… Ah! Hmm-ngh,” Jinsik started vocalizing his pleasure, the noises leaving his mouth getting raunchier by the second, his voice still climbing higher in pitch.

And still, he was trying so hard to contain these noises of his. He bit his lower lip (and would release to take a desperate gasp for air every now and then), and squeezed his eyes shut, trying so so hard to hold off on cumming. But, having his eyes closed just enhanced the warmth of your mouth and the sensation of your hand, lips, and tongue pleasuring him greatly.

Keeping a slower, steady pace, you eyes flitted upwards to look at his reaction. God, the man was ethereal. He looked so fucking beautiful with his face flushed, lips red and sore, eyes closed and making his eyelashes look even more full and long. You could tell he was struggling to keep it together. His hands were all over the place, one hand eternally clutching the sofa cushion while running his fingers through his hair with the other one. You thought he didn’t know what to do with his hands.

Jinsik knew exactly what to do with his hands now. He knows how blowjobs work— he’d just never had one before. Honestly, he really wanted to run his fingers through your hair and hold your head while pushing you into him more, but he was too nervous. He didn’t want to do it wrong and hurt you.

“Mmm… Ahh… Oh, hmm, angh!” Jinsik whimpered out, the pleasure starting to overstimulate him.

You felt his cock quiver in his mouth— he was so close, but he was holding back, and he was holding back as much as he could; he didn’t want to cum so fast because that’s so mortifying. But, you were making it harder and harder to keep his shit together.

Jinsik moaned loudly when you went faster and closer to the base of his cock. Tears filled his eyes— you were sucking him, blowing him so fucking well that he could not hold back any longer.

No! Don’t do it! Don’t fucking cum yet! Resist! You haven’t even— Tricky! Think about Tricky!

There was no way in hell Jinsik was going to use the safe word, but thinking about Tricky did the trick (terrible pun…), and he was able to hold out for longer. That being said, he was still losing it, tilting his head up to the sky and trying to keep the tears in his eyes.

God, you loved seeing this side of Jinsik, and you wanted more. You wanted to see how he’d react to everything that someone could do during a blowjob— everything. So, you slurped. You fucking slurped him up to keep the saliva from dripping and to also provoke another long, sensual moan.

“Y-Y/N! Hnngh— Oh my— Ah! Oh my God, mmm aah! B-baby!” Jinsik managed to say in between moans and pants, sending a rush of excitement through your body.

You responded with a hum, sending him further into the stars.

“F-feels sooh good— haah!”

You looked up to see that Jinsik was still looking at the ceiling, still blinking tears out of his eyes, missing out on a gorgeous view of you blowing him into oblivion. You understood, but you also wanted his eyes on you. Releasing him with yet another satisfying ‘pop!’, you licked stripes along his red, throbbing, quivering penis. You reached for one of his hands and guided that one to the back of your head, your other hand lacing his fingers with yours.

Now that he was holding onto you, he brought his gaze down and looked at you right as you took him back into your mouth. God, you were so fucking hot kneeling before him while you pleasure the shit out of him— his mind was blown.

“Y/N, you… You’re so… This is fucking amazing.”

Blood immediately rushed to your head. Jinsik never swore— he never ever swore, so hearing the profanity leave his lips was actually insane. So, you took him in completely. Entirely. All the way until you gagged. You felt him clutch the roots of your hair, squeeze your fingers tight, and pant hard, moan hard; he was so close yet again.

“Baby, please it,” Jinsik’s loud gasp broke his sentence. “I can’t take it!”

His breathing hitched more frequently, and with every breath came a slight sob. You were a little worried, but when you looked up, he was definitely enjoying it.

“I-It’s too much!” He cried. “I can’t!

Ignoring his cries, you kept going. You wanted to make him cum. You wanted to make him cum so hard to make the long blow job so worth it.

He wanted to hold out just a little longer. Thankfully, you slowed down, trying to regain your breath and energy. His cries subdued to quiet moans— fuck, even his moans sound beautiful, like a fucking song— and was relieved that he could still hold on… Only for about two seconds though.

You blew Jinsik like there was no tomorrow. You sucked, slurped, gagged, moaned, exhaled loudly the faster and deeper you went. Jinsik went back to moaning loudly. He moaned your name over and over again, some profanities sprinkled in between, turning you the fuck on.

“Y-Y/N, baby, my l-love?” Jinsik whimpered out; he was about to burst. “Please, I’m— Ooh! Mmm, I’m— Fuck!— I wanna—”

Jinsik sharply inhaled. He pulled your hair gently (because he didn’t want to hurt you), desperately trying to move you before he came in your mouth. You, instead, moved your head all the way down, shoving his cock deep in you one last time, gagging on his length, hollowing your mouth, and slurping literally everything before surfacing for air. You were gasping and panting as several trails of saliva connected the head of his dick to your lips and tongue, the sight making his body flush with warmth.

You rubbed his cock quickly and said, “Don’t hold back anymore, baby. Cum for me.”

And that he does. Trails of white shot upwards then landed on his waist and thighs as he flung his head back and groaned so loudly that it echoed in the entire dorm. God, and he’s mortified because he just kept cumming like it built up in him because he held off for so long. Tears in his eyes, he look down to see the mess he made, his face so red that you thought it was going to burst into flames.

“Did you like that, baby?” you asked him while licking your fingers (some of his cum ended up on your hand).

“God…” he sighed out, his breathing back to normal. “That was amazing. You’re fucking amazing. Oh, wow…”

He leaned his head all the way back into the sofa, a giddy smile on his face. His first blowjob: fucking amazing.

#xikers #xikers jinsik #ham jinsik #jinsik smut #jinsik x reader #ham jinsik xikers #jinsik xikers #jinsik xikers smut #xikers jinsik smut #ham jinsik smut #broatz #bro <3 dave

[prettyboykatsuki]

wot are ur fav shounen romances? :o

i like a lot of the classics !! kaguya sama love is war, blue flag, horimiya so i will not mention them here.

some more (imo) underrated ones

taisho otome otogobanashi my BELOVED. takes place in the taisho era between a disabled young heir of a wealthy family and the young girl assigned to be his bride. soooo fucking wholesome. very boy but in a very sweet way. really a beloved one for me. 9/10

three days of happiness (manga) - oh my GOD this manga makes me fucking CRY. touching story about a twenty year old guy who's down on his luck and finds out about a service that allows you to sell years of your life in exchange for money. the catch? the mc finds out the worth of his life is abysmally low and decides to sell all of it, save for three months so he can spend the money he earns. he meets with our mc and without spoiling they get to know each other and fall in love. SOOOOOO goddamn sad and sooo good. broke my heart 12/10

OREGAIRU. this anime is Deeply Personal to me for specific reasons irl but i also enjoy it. typical loserboy romance but there's a femboy as well. i love it soooo fucking much and i have forever okay... its so dear to me. it's about our mc who's a cringefail dweeb and his commentary on the myth of "youth" and how unrealistic that is.

the catch is that hachiman our mc actually has a fair bit of emotional intelligence and the story itself always points out that his loserish habits mostly stem from himself and call him on it all the time. i.e. it's not a shounen romance that overlooks those qualities nor romanticizes them and tends to be pretty subversive in it's own way.

the storyline revolves around him, the class president and another girl who have a club where they volunteer and offer advice. in that, hachiman gets to experience 'youth' inadvertently. it makes more sense if u watch but i just. love it So Goddamn Much. it's like peak for the shounen romance subgenre. its honestly not super romance heavy? but it also is. complicated it's 7.7/10 for me if i rate objectively. but a 10/10 if i rate on a personal level.

the fragrant flower blooms with dignity - a story about an intimidating male student and a very adorable young lady who have an interesting first encounter. it's a classic getting together story and its hard to describe what happens w out spoiling but GODDDDDD its soooo fucking cute. so cute i love it soooooo much. its ongoing !! 8/10

yankee kun and the white cane girl - crying screaming throwing up puking about them. a story about a deliquent and a blind girl. the story covers the struggles of disability with SO much nuance and character and the supporting cast have SOOOOOOOO much depth and the love story is so unbearably sweet. its ongoing and one of my faves forever and ever and ever. i love them sooo much. 9/10

im definitely missing a LOT but these are my favorites as of right now!!! the last two i follow very actively!!

#return to sender #people are always soo shocked about horimiya being a shounen its so silly to me #a.reccs

[landofzero-archive]

Battle on the Sugoroku Board - God Won’t Roll The Dice 4

(Location: “Battle on the Sugoroku Board” program set)

(Going back in time. “Battle on the Sugoroku Board”—CosPro Team’s hiding place)

Ibara: For the time being, it would be good to use the app to bring back Rinne Amagi-shi, however— we’re weakened.

An unexpected surprise attack…… And then, as if they all know each other, they’re encircling the surrounding area without engaging the enemy.

Ahaha! At this rate, we’ll both be crushed by the human wave strategy♪

Yuuta: This isn’t the time to be laughing~!?

If this continues, we’ll be in a desperate situation. What should we do?

No, it’s fine if we’re in a desperate situation, but I don’t want to owe Rinne-senpai……! I’m sure we’ll end up in a troublesome relationship!

Ibara: How much do you hate him?

However, if it looks like you’re defeated here, it’ll affect your dignity.

Even if they’ve surrounded us, it’s just a game. “I” won’t be fooled by such tactics.

Encircling the surrounding area to prevent enemy contact means there are many gaps to escape through—

Yuuta-kun, please lend me your phone.

Yuuta: Ah, sure. Understood.

Ibara: Then, I’d be oh so grateful if I could use i—t!

Yuuta: YOU THREW IIIIIIIIT!?

That’s the phone I borrowed for the show!? Is it fine to do that!?

Ibara: Well, if I’m asked to make amends then I’ll handle it.

Take a look at that, Yuuta-kun. Idols from the other teams are flocking to your phone.

In other words, the enemy didn’t know where we were, but were instead relying on GPS signals to locate our surroundings—

I’ll temporarily turn off my phone, so let’s leave this place immediately.

Yuuta: Ah, I see. GPS—

So they took advantage of the fact that our location was leaked!

Ibara: Indeed. Let’s run away while we still can, Yuuta-kun.

Yuuta: Then, let’s use the shadow of the building to go around the other side! I’m sure we can escape safely while they’re distracted by my phone……☆

…… We’re fine now that we’re this far, aren’t we?

Ibara: Yes, probably—

Yuuta: Even so, we were in trouble, huh… I can’t believe our GPS location was leaked……

I don’t know why we were the only ones targeted though?

Is it because we’re too strong? But, a “Dice Battle” only begins when we come face to face. Mechanically, it’s difficult for teams to cooperate with each other, isn’t it?

Ibara: The thing is, it was probably that the program side “staged” for them to do it.

Yuuta: …… EH!?

“Battle on the Sugoroku Board” is a pretty serious competition program, isn’t it? Is that even possible?

Ibara: Well, if we asked about it, the production side will probably insist that it’s “staged for effect.”

However, the program’s supposed to be aired as a serious competition from the comfort of your own home. Otherwise, viewers will be disappointed.

Therefore, the program probably created a situation made to look “staged,” but it wasn’t. 

For example, preparing support items that can leak the enemy’s GPS.

Yuuta: Ah, that explains it.

The vice prez’s quick thinking helped us out a lot. Throwing my phone to create an illusion of where we are. You really are a strategist, huh?

Ibara: It gives me mixed feelings to hear someone call me a “strategist” to my face.

Luckily, Yuuta-kun’s phone didn’t have any gold in it, so I figured it’d be fine to throw it away.

According to the rules, if you encounter an enemy without your phone , you won’t be able to start a “Dice Battle” and will instead automatically enter the “State of Surrender.”

If we had left the problem as it was, we could have been defeated.

We’re going to collect your phone later, so we have to start moving now.

Let's exchange our gold for support items to improve our fighting strength. Yuuta-kun, do you know of any shops that sell items?

Yuuta: Yes, I found one while walking with Rinne-senpai.

An item that allows you to reroll your dice— the “Reroll Card” was sold for 100G. There was also something called the “Substitute Doll” that was sold for 300G.

Ibara: Then let’s head over there. Fortunately, I only used 100G to revive Rinne Amagi-shi, so I think I’ll be able to buy items as well.

We shall prepare armaments for the upcoming decisive battle. That’s fine, isn’t it?

Previous | Directory | Next

#ensemble stars #enstars #enstars translation #ibara saegusa #yuta aoi #era: !! #type: event

[sunny-writes-flowers]

"Breathless"

Summary: "Commodus watched her hair dancing in the wind, and her figure soaring in the cold of the end of the day. She bet with him that he wouldn't catch her. Well, let’s prove her wrong. " 

Rating:  M  

Statut: One Shot  

Relationship(s): Commodus x fem!Reader  

Warning(s): Mention of blood (gladiators fighting); Established relationship; light description of female body; light description of SMUT; Some angst (because senators loves dramas; Moderate dirty talk; Fluff. 

Commodus sat in his private box at the coliseum, his eyes fixed on the bloody spectacle unfolding before him. He was dressed in the finest clothes, adorned with gold and jewels. Next him, the senators are visibly displeased. They exchange uncomfortable glances and mutter amongst themselves clearly disapproving his way of dressing. A stark contrast to the more modest attire of the senators around him. They were resentful of Commodus lavish display of wealth and opulence, which the senators see as an affront to the dignity and the austerity of the roman public. 

Commodus, oblivious to their disapproval, sits with a self-satisfied smirk on his face, his eyes fixed on the spectacle below. Besides the young emperor, sat his lover, a beautiful and seductive young lady.  

As the gladiators fought to the death, in the arena below, Commodus turned to her. “Do you like it my little bird?” 

“As always, I will be honest with you. I’m not very fond of it. Isn’t it a little bit barbaric?” 

Commodus was surprised with her answer. Lucilla stared at the couple, fearing for some bad reaction from her brother.  

“But it’s tradition, my dear,” he protested “The people love it and besides, it’s a way for us to show our power and strength.” 

The lady smiled at him. “All I care about is you, all I want is you.” 

Commodus was intrigued by her answer. He leaned in closer to her, his eyes gleaming with desire. “Is that so?” he murmured. “And what do you want to do with me, my dearest?” 

She smiled seductively. “I want you all to myself,” she whispered. “I want you to forget about this place and everyone on it. I want you to focus only on me.” 

Lucilla slowly turned her face focusing on the gladiators again, as she saw Commodus grinned. His heart raced with excitement. “And why don't we leave this place and go somewhere more private.” 

The two of them rose from their solid golden thrones, and with Commodus' black paludamenta fluttering in the wind, they left the coliseum.  

Some senators were confused, perplexed by the emperor reaction, starting to speculate that maybe he was about to join the gladiators or maybe something displeased him. The rest of the senators were offended by the sudden breach of tradition and etiquette. “He uses most of the gold of the empire for those overdone games, and he have the audacity to leave in the middle of them?!” was indignant senator Gracchus. 

“Please, senator, my brother may have something urgent to treat.” Lucilla said, trying to calm the older man. 

“Leaving with his mistress, is that an urgent matter to treat?” replied senator Gaius. 

“She will soon be married to him,” remembered Lucilla to senator Gaius. “She is not his mistress.” 

As they spoked about the emperor, senator Falco left them and the coliseum, to follow Commodus, his praetorian guard and his lady. 

As they made their way up to the palace, Commodus’s young lady looked at him with a mischievous smile. “I dare you to catch me before we reach our room.” she said, playfully. 

Commodus chuckled. “Way too easy little bird...” 

And before Commodus could finish his sentence, she started running up the with stairs, giggling with delight. He quickly followed, leaving his praetorian guard caught out of guard. 

The young couple ran through the halls of the palace, their laughter echoing off the marble column. They dodged servants and slaves, Commodus even tossing his heavy armor on the black marble floor, to lighten his load.  

The rays of the setting sun lit his face with an orange light. The cold air of the evening caressed his face. For an instant, all disappear. His worries and responsibilities forgotten. His face bright with pure joy. Commodus wished this moment stayed forever on his memory. Everything made him remembered his lost childhood.  

Her face, looking behind from time to time, was the only thing that kept the young emperor into reality. Her laugh mixed with his, competed with the sound of the little birds singing outside the palace. Her long white dress, transparent as she ran through the orange light of the end of the day, was dancing in the wind.  

She was quick, but Commodus was faster, his long strides quickly gaining on her. They weaved through the grand hallways, past statues they will never know who they were, forgotten by history, jumping into the large fountains, not caring about wetting the marble of the palace floor with their foot.  

Commodus finally catching her in a secluded corner of the palace. Breathless and flushed, she looked at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. He leaned in and kissed her, the passion and desire between them palpable. 

“Catch me!” Commodus shouted 

“Hey! That's not fair!” she replied, trying to run after him as fast as she could, but always staying just out of her reach. 

Finally, Commodus burst into their chamber, panting and laughing, he collapsed onto the bed, feeling vivified. “Looks like I won little bird,” he said, a teasing tone on his voice. 

“You always do.” She replies finally arriving onto the bed, lying next to the emperor. 

Commodus pulled her close to his chest, savoring the feel of her body against his. They kissed passionately, their desire growing. She responded running her hands over his chest and down his stomach. Commodus helped her undressing him and lifts her gown, undressing her in return. 

As Commodus entered her, she left escapes from her lips an eliciting moan of pleasure. They made love slowly and tenderly, their bodies moving together in perfect harmony. The sweat due to the effort dripped from Commodus' forehead as he pulled her legs around his waist with the help of his arms. Blood ran down his back, as she clawed at him with all her might, just the way he liked. 

“Harder, Commodus, please harder.” She repeated, as her life depended on it. 

Commodus eventually came, climaxing with a throaty growl, filling her insides with all the love he could feel for someone. 

Afterwards, they lay tangled in each other’s arms, their bodies sill humming with the afterglow of their lovemaking. 

When the young woman finally fell asleep, Commodus got up and left their room. Armed with a knife in hand, in case, he crossed the corridors of the palace, looking for a slave who could bring him something to eat. But instead, he found senator Falco, sitting down, eating grapes. 

“So, how did the games end today?” 

“You would know, your majesty, if you had stayed until the end, as an emperor should.” senator Falco replies. 

“Well, my friend, I couldn’t,” Commodus says, smiling like a child. “I had to satisfy my wife.” 

“Duty of every husband, indeed. But as far as I know, you're not married yet. And therefore, your highness, I would advise you to not disrespect the people as you have done. The games were organized by you for them. You used the collected taxes, and the gold of the empire to finance its games. If we continue to spend this money like this, there won't be much left. And what image you give to the people if you don't stay close to them, snubbing them as you snubbed the Greek quarters.” 

“You are bold tonight, Falco. Did you forget who you're talking to?” 

“No, your highness, that's exactly why I'm warning you. Your enemies are at every corner. We must be careful. They are like snakes ready to bite.” 

“Well Falco, the enemy is certainly not in my bed. Good night, Falco. Tomorrow there will be new games. Hope my beautiful wife will like chariot racing...” Commodus said, leaving into the darkness of the night. 

Note: I wrote this while thinking abouta childhood memory that touched me particularly. I also wrote this while listening to "Now we are free", because I needed a lot of emotion! XD Thanks for reading, don't forget to like and share. Please give me your opinion !

#commodus x reader #joaquin phoenix #fluff #smut #female reader #emperor commodus #commodus #gladiator 2000 #gladiator #my own fic #fanfiction #fanfic #slight n/sfw

[principledstarfish]

For those of you interested, here's a translation of the complaint to Ea-Nasir about his subpar copper ingots in ancient Sumeria:

Dearest Ea-Nasir,

It is with a heavy heart and an unbridled reservoir of disappointment that I find myself compelled to pen this epistle, addressing a matter of utmost urgency and grave disappointment concerning the recent procurement of what was promised as 'first-rate copper' from your esteemed establishment. The very essence of our agreement, I fear, has been tarnished, much like the purported copper in question, which, upon closer inspection, reveals itself to be of a caliber so deplorably subpar, it could scarcely be deemed fit for the crafting of even the most rudimentary of trinkets.

I must confess, Ea-Nasir, that your assurance of quality, which I held in such high regard, now rings as hollow as the echo of my dreams deferred, bouncing off the walls of the cavernous void where my satisfaction with our transaction once resided. In the grand tapestry of commerce, where trust is the thread that binds buyer and seller in a dance as delicate as it is ancient, you have, I'm afraid to say, introduced a discordant step that has left the melody of our dealings decidedly off-key.

As an aficionada of the finer things, a connoisseur of quality, if you will, I approached our transaction with the expectation that the copper supplied would befit a project of the highest order, a veritable magnum opus. Instead, I find myself in possession of material so egregiously deficient, it would struggle to find purpose as a decorative accoutrement in the most dimly lit of chambers, where its inadequacies might mercifully be obscured by shadow.

In light of this most unfortunate revelation, I must insist upon a recourse that will rectify the injustice of this transaction. It is not merely a refund or an exchange that I seek, Ea-Nasir, but the restoration of faith in the sanctity of commerce, a belief so cruelly shaken by this episode. Let us endeavor to resolve this matter with the grace and dignity it demands, lest the legacy of our dealings be forever marred by the specter of this regrettable incident.

#schitt's creek #moira rose #chatgpt writes like moira rose #chatgpt #rose apothecary #alexis rose #david x patrick #incorrect quotes #ancient sumeria #ea nasir #copper ingots #ancient yelp reviews #history

[angelasscribbles]

Secrets Chapter 5: Negotiations

Series: Secrets

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Riley x Liam, Riley x Drake, Leo x Madeline

Rating: MA

Warnings for this chapter: mature themes

Word Count: 1,841

My other stuff: Master List.

The palace conference room was in turmoil.

Leo had just abdicated.

“We can find her another suitable match!”

“The contract isn’t just between the two of them!” Riley’s father bellowed, “Promises were exchanged between our countries! My daughter was promised a king! She’s supposed to now settle for some duke or count? It’s an insult against the royal family of Monterisso! My daughter is a queen! She deserves a king not some fucking consolation prize!”

There was a subtle clearing of a throat from the end of the table. Liam lifted a hand and the arguing stopped as everyone turned to face him. “If I may…..” He gestured for them to resume their seats, and they did.

Riley marveled at the way Liam commanded the room. It was impressive. Even Constantine had acquiesced to his demand for order. He was a natural born leader. Much more suited to the throne than his brother.

“What if I had a way that the terms of the contract could still be fulfilled? Completely and fully.”

“How?” Her father spat, still fuming, knowing that a divorce would severely curtail her options. Most monarchies did not allow their crown princes to marry a divorcee. Outdated and archaic certainly, but unfortunately the way of the world. Yet to let her stay married to a man that had given up the crown was unthinkable. He’d spent his entire life working toward this arrangement, maneuvering and positioning himself and his daughter into place only to watch it slipping through his fingertips at the eleventh hour.

“Forget the divorce, my father has the power to grant an annulment. It will be as though the marriage never happened. Then wed her to me. I will take my brother’s place, as crown prince, as Lady Riley’s husband and eventually, as king. All of the promises made between our countries and our families will be fulfilled.” Liam sat back, steepling his fingers under his chin as he waited for his offer to be digested.

“I’d need to confer with my daughter, of course, but this seems like a fair solution.”

“No need, father. I’m amenable to it.” Riley’s face betrayed no emotion as she crossed her hands in her lap.

“Well I have some questions!” Constantine shouted.

“Such as?” Riley’s father, the Duke of Edinford, brother in law to the queen of Monterisso, reddened with aggravation and impatience.

“Her suitability for my son!” He turned his head her way, “No offense my dear. You’re a lovely woman who has comported yourself with dignity and grace despite the abysmal way my son has treated you.”

“Then what’s the issue?” Riley asked.

“The issues of heirs! It’s been nine months and you haven’t produced any! Is it because you haven’t been trying or because you can’t?”

Riley reached out a hand to keep her father in his seat as he tried to leap out of it, screaming, “How dare you?”

“It’s ok, father. I’ve got this.”

“But kitten, this is an outrageous accusation!” Turning to Constantine he sputtered, “She passed all the physical exams you demanded!”

“Even so. Nine months and no pregnancy.” Constantine turned his gaze back to Riley, “Well?”

“Well,” She sat up straighter in her seat, hand going to her stomach, “This is not the way we wanted to announce this but….”

“But?” Constantine followed her gaze to not Leo, but Liam.

“I’m already carrying the heir to Cordonia.” She stated with equanimity.

Leo jumped to his feet, “But, I haven’t touched you in months! This is a lie! If you are pregnant, it’s not mine! You can’t put a bastard on the throne! I demand a DNA test!”

Riley smiled smugly, “I’ll be more than happy to submit to a DNA test. I promise you; this baby is a Rys.”

Constantine caught the look that passed between Riley and Liam and understanding dawned on him. Liam had given her what Leo wouldn’t. What was required of her as queen. “No test will be necessary my dear. I understand everything.”

The king couldn’t even be mad at his younger son for any of it. Leo had been a loose cannon, running around like he was still single, focused on women and partying more than on governing. At the rate he’d been going, he likely would have impregnated one of his mistresses before his wife, causing a scandal and infuriating his in laws, thereby endangering their newly formed alliance.

Liam would make a good king. He was clearly a master manipulator already. He certainly had the stones for it, as evidenced by the fact that he had just maneuvered his own brother out of the throne and his wife.  

Leo stared at his brother's slack jawed, realizing he’d been played. “Have you been sleeping with my wife?”

Liam shrugged carelessly, “What do you care? You've been sleeping with everyone but your wife.”

“Are you in love with my wife? Is that why you encouraged me to abdicate?”

“You wanted to abdicate, Leo and you didn’t want to be married! I wasn’t lying when I told you that I was ready for the responsibility and that you should go chase your own happiness. This is a win/win.” He spread his hands out in front of him, “You’re getting what you want and I’m getting what I want.”

“The throne?”

“Your wife.”

“You decided to manipulate me into giving up the throne over a woman?”

“You gave up the throne over a woman, brother. I would have been happy being your advisor.” But he would never have been happy being Riley’s lover when he could be her husband. She wasn’t just a woman; she wasn’t just any woman. She was the most amazing woman he’d ever met. He would be the husband, and the king, that she deserved.

“I’ve heard enough!” Constantine just wanted this settled so they could start working on damage control. Dissolving a marriage with one brother just to marry the other was going to be tricky to spin, but her staying married to Leo while carrying Liam’s child would be a much bigger scandal and a much bigger problem, clouding the issue of succession. If she had wanted to ensure he would grant her annulment to Leo and approve her marriage to Liam, fast track it even, she couldn’t have found a better strategy. He wondered if it were coincidence or contrived, and if contrived, by which one of them?

The room quieted as all eyes turned to the king. He spoke with authority, “I will accept Leo’s abdication and grant the annulment. I can have it pushed through by tomorrow. Wedding preparations for Riley and Liam will start immediately, we’ll have a small, private ceremony.”

It was untraditional but they didn’t have time to plan an elaborate, public spectacle. They needed to be married before she started showing. They could spin it as wanting privacy.

“I’m sure you’ll understand if I want my lawyers to look over the new contract. There may be some new concessions we’d like in light of recent….developments.”

Constantine gritted his teeth. Of course the duke was going to push his advantage. Riley was carrying the heir to Cordonia and her father knew that gave him a lot more bargaining power. But he also knew that being the divorced mother to the heir carried far less power than being queen. “The uncontested annulment is contingent upon carrying over the original contract.”

Duke Brooks glanced at his daughter. She gave him a small nod and he nodded back with a sigh, “Fine. We’re all in agreement.”

“Excellent! This meeting is adjourned! Leo, you’re coming with me! We need to meet with the PR team about how to announce your abdication and the annulment of your marriage.”

Leo shot a resentful glare at his brother before shuffling out behind his father like a truculent child.

“Damn good thing I just happened to be here when this happened! Excellent timing on that invitation to come visit, daughter! It’s almost like you knew!” The duke gloated.

Riley just smiled.

“Duke Brooks. Would you care to join me in my study for drinks? I’d love to get to know my future father in law better!” Liam invited.

“Certainly son. And you can call me Michael.”

Liam drew Riley into an embrace and kissed her forehead, “I’ll see you tonight for dinner, ok my love?”

“In your room?”

“In the formal dining room.” He replied, “No more hiding. You’re mine and I want the world to know it!”

Riley left the room last, followed by Drake. He walked next to her as she made her way back to her rooms. They walked in silence for a while. She knew he’d heard everything. He’d been in the room for the entirety of the meeting.

He finally spoke, “So it was Liam all along.”

She shot a sidelong glance at him, “Yes. And now he’ll be my husband.”

“And that makes you happy?”

“It does.”

“And the pregnancy?”

“What about it?” She asked as they arrived at her door.

He ushered her inside and closed the door behind him before speaking. “Are you sure it’s his?”

“I’m positive.”

“How?”

“Because I’m eight weeks pregnant, Drake.”

“And we’ve only been sleeping together for four.”

“Exactly.”

“Well, you picked the one person I won’t beat the shit out of.” Now what was he supposed to do with his frustration?

“Leo was a terrible husband, and I don’t think he was fit to rule.” She said in way of explanation.

“If you’re looking for an argument, you aren’t going to get one from me.” Leo had been a terrible husband and Drake had zero opinions on who was or wasn’t fit to rule.

“You’re taking this far better than I expected.”

“What did you expect from me, Princess? I understand that royal marriages are political. I know you’re from a royal family and expected to marry for alliances and political gain. I understand my place in society and I understand yours. I never expected more than what we have. You’ve been married the whole time we’ve been sleeping together. You’re simply trading one husband for another. It makes no difference to me who you’re married to.”

“But Drake, this changes everything!”

“Not for me, it doesn’t. When I told you that I was yours, I meant it!”

“But doesn’t it bother you that-“

“No. I knew you had a husband and a lover when this thing between us started. Now you’ll just have a husband. As far as I’m concerned, that’s one less man to worry about.” He crossed the room to stand behind her.

He trailed his fingers down her neck. She shivered. He pulled her body back against him. She let him. He lowered his mouth to the delicate flesh just below her ear as he whispered, “If you want me to stop, just say so.”

She turned in his arms and tilted her head back for his kiss. She said nothing. She didn’t want him to stop. She would never want him to stop.  

#secrets #angelasscribbles #the royal romance fanfic #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #trr #the royal romance #choices #choices stories you play #liam rys #drake walker #why choose

[mrssimply]

17th: Sleepless

Filling the prompt list with things from my ideas folder, there was still a blank... So I wrote "Slice of life" and it was a mistake because it's was so broad! I didn't even know what I wanted to do, kept thinking up things, they were all bad and worse. In the end, @m-lter helped me without knowing. We had a talk around this fanart about how the boys would have difficulties with falling asleep, or would fall asleep right away only to be woken up by nightmares. So this is the result, which is why it's gifted to her, even though she didn't prompt it.

I also gift this fic to all of you out there who suffer from insomnia: hope Kerry can help you to find the Sandman ;)

You can find the prompt list here.

Every fic will be posted on my AO3 Account here.

It's t-rated. Literally nothing happens ^^'

They have trouble sleeping, Johnny and V. Kerry already knew that about Johnny from the last time he was alive — and how weird is it that he can say it like that : the last time Johnny Silverhand was alive. Anyway, it seems that dying and coming back to life didn’t cure Johnny of his insomnia. Kerry doesn’t know if he can call it insomnia, because Johnny generally falls asleep just fine: he the first one to snore when the three of them settle to sleep after a good fuck. But he doesn’t sleep long before he’s awakened.

Back when they’d just met and lived in a squat together, it was nightmares about the war. Johnny would jerk awake with a gasp, gripping his chrome shoulder so tightly Kerry half imagined it would dent the metal if it was any tighter. His eyes would be open but unseeing even when Kerry turned on the light. In Johnny’s dark pupils, his friend saw the panic, the confusion, the fear and the sadness all swirling around madly. It was what made him keep being so lenient with Johnny, because he knew what hid under the rage and the anger: a lost boy, running in the dark, calling out for help but never receiving it. Kerry fell in love with that boy and never fell out, even when it turned out to be a curse.

Later in the 20’s, when they toured or Johnny crashed at Kerry’s for a few months, generally after a severe injury on a gig, the nightmares turned to other things. Johnny’s own violence came back to haunt him: he would see himself stand in the middle of a fire, not even trying to move, just waiting for the heat to become unbearable, for the smoke to strangle him, for the flames to burn his skin. He would wake up, panting and trembling, and tell Kerry about it only when he’d taken some Blow. 

By the end, he kept dreaming about a crumbling tower, and when Kerry asked him if he ever made it out alive, Johnny would smile at him and say no. His smile was strange, like he knew this dream was some sort of prophetic vision, but couldn’t really find it in himself to care. By then, Johnny was either be rageful, or totally numb, nothing in between.

So, Kerry isn’t surprised by Johnny having nightmares that wake him up after two or three hours of sleep.

Kerry is more surprised about V’s sleeplessness. Sure, V lived through some traumas, too, but from what Kerry knows, it’s about the average kind when you were born and raised as a streekid in Night City. Kerry has some of them, too, like having to fight for water, being offered shelter in exchange for your dignity, being a victim and an aggressor at the same time… 

But apparently, it’s not that. V turns and tosses in bed for hours, waking Kerry up because he keeps moving, fussing with the pillow, rearranging the covers. He’s too cold, then too hot, can’t seem to find a comfortable position. Sometimes he just gives up and goes to tinker with his pistols, or deals with fixer shit. Since Kerry and Johnny keep odd hours, too, they don’t really find it weird, and Kerry isn’t particularly worried because once V is asleep, he can sleep for nineteen hours in one go and not look like a zombie when he wakes up. 

Tonight is apparently a night where V can't find rest. Kerry fell asleep in his arms with a hand over Johnny’s collar bone, over the place he used to have the scars from the field surgery that had saved his life and granted him The Hand. An abomination Kerry is glad he got rid of during his death. The new arm is much sleeker, a lot more sensitive, and has an incredible bonus in Kerry’s eyes: it doesn’t turn Johnny cyberpsycho. So that’s how Kerry fell asleep, or he thought he did but maybe not because he finds himself with eyes wide open something like an hour later, in that strange state of mind where he isn’t sure he really slept. 

One thing is sure: V isn’t sleeping. He sighs loud and deep, and Kerry knows he’s on the verge of giving up and getting out of bed, deeming this night a bad one. Chasing the remnant of his maybe-not-sleep, Kerry turns between the sheets. He finds his input propped against two pillows, scrolling on his favorite app — which apparently contains mostly cute pictures and funny videos of cats — with a tired expression.

He glances at Kerry when he turns.

“Can’t sleep?” the musician asks and V shrugs before dropping the phone on his chest with another weary sigh. He turns on his belly, shifts and moves his head on the pillow until he’s satisfied… Then move again, once more under Kerry’s growing smile before he settles. 

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” the rocker asks with a gravelly voice, whispering as not to wake Johnny up, too. Let him get a few hours more sleep if he can.

“Nothin’,” V replies, eyes roaming over Kerry’s face and the musician sees his shoulders relax somewhat, as if just looking at Kerry has an appeasing effect on him. The singer just raises an eyebrow and V groans, hiding his face in the pillow.

“It’s silly.”

“Well, you know I love silly stories.”

Another muffled huff, then V’s sparkling eyes reappear.

“You know, that gig I did yesterday?”

“The Romeo and Juliet one?” Kerry asks after a moment of thinking. Not only does V rarely speak about his gigs to him — he does with Johnny, because Johnny generally goes along with him — but the superstar isn’t that interested to know about every detail. It would probably make him lose sleep, too.

Yet the musician seems to recall the target was the heir to a rich and influential family, apparently being held against her will by her own grand-parents because she planned on donating most of her fortune to charity. The charity in question was to help the victims of water poisoning caused by her family's industry. Apparently the heir had fallen in love with one of the activists, who was the one who’d contacted V.

“Yeah. Well, I went with that merc, Helen?”

Kerry nods, he’s been hearing about this rising star for a while now. When Johnny is unavailable, V generally asks Helen along.

“The client knows the flat is under heavy automatic security but couldn’t tell us more. So we went to do recon. We climbed the unfinished building on the other side of the street to get to the right level. We were setting up to watch, when suddenly, we stumbled upon construction workers sleeping on site — I mean, I thought they were squatters at first. It surprised us and vice versa so here we are at a standoff. I don’t wanna harm them but they’re really panicky, don’t speak english and have no translators. I try to understand what’s happening when suddenly a fucking rocket —” V explains, whispering so loudly Kerry puts a finger across his lips to tell him to keep quiet. Kerry can’t help but smile at V’s outraged expression that someone dared launching a rocket at him. 

“A fucking rocket,” the merc repeats more quietly, “comes right at us. Apparently we made so much ruckus it alerted the NCPD drones patrolling down the street, which identified us as a threat and just fired. Helen and I ducked, but the construction workers weren’t all so lucky… One got hit by the rocket square in the chest, another fled right into a hole in the ground and fell four stories high…”

V trails off, looking haunted.

“And then Helen and I were dashing madly down the stairs, firing at the drones and hoping the NCPD won’t just be waiting for us when we get to street level. I swear it was the worst recon I ever did,” he finishes, a note of anger in his otherwise really weary voice.

Kerry stays silent, only strokes V’s cheek tenderly. He can feel his input’s pain at innocent lives being lost. It’s exactly what made Kerry and Johnny fall in love with him: after all he’s been through, V still cares, and he cares so much it’s sometimes difficult to bear.

“I keep seeing him fall,” V confesses as he closes his eyes and shuffles closer to Kerry. “Then I keep thinking about the fact it could have been Helen. Then it makes me think about Jackie when we escaped the Konpeki Plaza… and if not that, then i think that i haven't heard from the Aldecaldos in two months and they should have come back by now, or I think about what Dino said about this mysterious BD circle who’s been releasing really hardcore content and I need to fuckin’ find them before they settle in my fuckin’ city for real but I —”

“Hush,” Kerry interrupts him firmly, still stroking his nape gently, “you’re getting all worked up, no wonder you can’t sleep”.

V lets out a dry chuckle and turns away to face the ceiling. 

“I can’t stop, it’s running in a loop in my head.”

“I know.”

He does, it happens to him too, though a lot more rarely since V is in his life. Kerry just moves so he can rest his head against V’s shoulder and caress his stomach, his chest, tracing over the tattoos on his skin.

V catches his hand after a while and brings it to his lips to kiss his knuckles. He looks calmer.

“I keep thinking about everything I could have done to prevent it,” he admits and Kerry smiles. V is an over planner and a control freak when it comes to his work, even more so now that he’s mostly a fixer. He wants to make sure his clients get what they paid for, and to keep his mercs alive, too. Guilt and "ifs" are what’s keeping him awake, and it’s one of the things that makes Kerry sure V is a good guy.

“That’s because you care.”

“I care too much.”

“No, you care just enough. I think it’s normal to feel guilty because two men died for nothing. But it’s not your fault, the NCPD is just trigger happy, especially in the areas they have sponsors living nearby, and those workers shouldn’t have been there. They should have been home, safe and sound, and not sleeping on the construction site because they can’t afford lodgings.”

“Carefull, you’re starting to sound like Johnny,” V snorts good naturedly.

“You know he’s right on these things.”

“Yeah, don’t tell him.”

“I heard it,” Johnny interrupts, turning to face them. He’s probably trying to sound smug but he’s still blinking sleep away so the effect is just cute.

“We woke you up?” V asks with a frown. 

Johnny shakes his head no.

“Nightmares.”

“We didn’t feel you thrash around,” Kerry replies with a worried expression.

“I think I woke up just when it started… Like my brain said ‘nope, not doing this again’ and woke me up.”

He looks confused about this, troubled by the fact his brain wouldn’t happily subject him to more horrific memories of his past.

“Heh, that’s an improvement,” V comments.

“I’m still awake after…” he checks the hour on his holo, “an hour and a half. So I basically took a nap.”

Both Kerry’s inputs sigh dramatically, prompting a laugh out of him.

“Ok, let’s… Let’s do something else, ok. Watch a movie or something, since we’re all awake?”

“Sure,” they reply with little enthusiasm, but Kerry has some for three. With a grin, he throws the covers back and puts on his gown before going to the lounge room downstairs to set up the home cinema. 

Johnny and V join him as the screen finishes lowering itself over the portrait of his naked ass. Kerry has pulled out the plaids and after telling them to settle, he goes to make pop-corn. 

When he comes back, he sits in the middle, and both men put their head on each of his shoulders.

-

Two hours later, Kerry has finished the bowl of pop-corn and he’s sniffling softly as the credits for A Nomad Story scroll down. He missed it when it came out in theaters, but the critics were unanimous about this being the movie of the decade, with magnificent photography, good old school acting and a heart wrenching universal story about love and loss. 

As he wipes his cheeks with the sleeve of his robe, he glances down to see if his inputs liked it, only to chuckle when he discovers they’re both asleep. Johnny's head is actually resting on Kerry's lap, face buried against his stomach. The musician can’t recall feeling him settle like this so he must have been really engrossed in the movie. V is snoring softly, drooling against Kerry’s neck, mumbling something in his sleep.

Kerry smiles, and tries to move. He really needs to get up because he feels all stiff for one, but also because he needs to pee. He gently pushes V the other way, not worried about waking him up now that he’s asleep. He could sleep through the armageddon. With Johnny he’s more careful, but manages to extract himself. Stretching, he groans when his spin pops and shakes himself before walking to the bathroom.

-

When he comes back, thinking about watching another movie, he finds Johnny seated on the couch, looking at V with a strange look. From the way he is breathing, hard and fast, Kerry can tell this time it’s a nightmare that woke him up.

Johnny jumps and turns swiftly to Kerry when the man comes into his field of vision. His hands spasm over the blanket he’s still holding, and when his eyes meet Kerry’s, they look lost. With a frown, Kerry closes the distance between them in two strides.

“Hey, hey,” he calls gently, “you’re ok, you’re safe.” Johnny looks at his lips like he can’t hear Kerry’s voice, but can read the words on his lips. He relaxes, sighs softly and lets his forehead bumps against his friend’s.

Kerry brings his hand to his nape, stroking it gently. He feels Johnny’s chrome hand slide under his robe to feel his skin, thumb rubbing over the muscle of his thigh.

“What was it, this time?” Kerry asks in a whisper after a moment of silence.

Johnny shakes his head,  and frowns like he can’t really remember.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m back in Mikoshi, or the Black Wall. And I wake up but the sensation follows and I don’t know if it’s real or not.”

Kerry makes a soft sound of commiseration and brushes their mouths together.

“It’s real, you’re here,” he affirms, gently gripping Johnny’s cheeks. “You can feel my hands and the heat of my body. You can hear my voice…” he trails off as the other man tilts his head until their lips press harder together. Kerry welcomes him in, licks inside his mouth, sucks on his tongue briefly before nipping at his bottom lip. Johnny groans, shuffles closer and lets his hand roam higher.

With a last kiss, Kerry draws back to look at him with a worried expression. His skin is cooling down, cold sweat covering it now, but his eyes look clearer. Johnny groans lowly before diving back in for another kiss and Kerry laughs into his mouth.

“Sometimes I don’t feel like it’s real either,” he admits against Johnny’s lips. The man smiles, a wry expression that silently translates his regrets. He nuzzles against Kerry’s cheek, playfully bites his earlobe before looking at V.

“You know, I always felt like we’ve been dealt shitty cards,” Johnny murmurs. “But it’s like… You know — what Misty says about karma.”

Kerry nods, hugging Johnny against him.

“V is an ace.”

The other man nods, huffs against Kerry’s neck.

“Or maybe a wild card,” Johnny adds like an afterthought. 

They stay silent like this for a moment, before the resurrected rocker snorts.

“Look at him sleeping.”

Curious, Kerry disentangles them and looks over his shoulder at his other input. V is deep in slumber now that his brain finally let him fall asleep. He’s sprawled on his back, one hand down his shorts, holding his limp dick and snoring with a happy face. He sleeps like the innocent. Kerry grins; he kinda wants to draw a dick on V’s face. When he looks back at Johnny, he can tell the man feels the same and they laugh maniacally, but discreetly, so it sounds like they’re wheezing like old men.

“Think we can transport him back to bed?” Kerry asks when they are done snickering.

“With all the cyberware, even I can’t, he’s heavier than he looks.”

The singer knows because sometimes after sex V sags over him. Kerry loves it, feels safe under his mass of muscle and chrome so he smiles dopily, which earns him a disgusted expression from Johnny.

“We could get the spare mattress here, though. He can have the couch,” Kerry suggests.

-

So that’s what they do, then they decide to roll a joint, and then to play guitar. They play softly with no amps, even if they both know it wouldn’t bother V. He’s snoring rhythmically, so Johnny and Kerry use his snores as a bass line.

“We should record it,” Johnny says when they stop to listen to him. Kerry hums, feeling sleep calling him once more. They both settle on the mattress next to the couch, having pushed the low table further away.

In the low light, Johnny watches Kerry blink sleepily.

“You happy?” he mouths and the question makes the musician frown then nods softly, a gentle smile blossoming on his lips.

“Never been happier,” he replies, still a bit confused about the sudden inquiry.

“Because of V.”

Kerry looks at him, turning on his side to better observe him.

“Not only,” he replies, reaching out to brush Johnny’s mouth with his thumb. Their gazes meet and Kerry gets lost in his friend’s dark eyes, turned black by the night. He can’t say it out loud yet, but he hopes the message gets through anyway. Johnny doesn’t comment, but some lines around his eyes and mouth relax. It’s strange to think he was… worried, about that. Johnny used to be so good at pretending he didn’t care.

“You?” Kerry asks just as softly. 

Johnny catches his hand, flesh meeting flesh. He holds it as he turns his head until his lips brushes Kerry’s palm. In his chest, the singer’s heart beats faster and he smiles wryly at himself: he’s still such a fool for this man. Johnny stays silent for a good moment, so long Kerry hinks he won’t answer. He closes his eyes, unable to fight sleep any longer. He won’t push tonight, he knows better anyway and he’s too tired now with V’s snores like a comforting lullaby in the background.

Johnny moves to wrap his arm around Kerry, holding him closer and entangling their legs together. The singer makes a happy but sleepy noise and feels himself drift.

“I don’t think I really knew what being happy meant until now. Took me a while to understand what I was feeling,” Johnny finally answers, voice rumbling through his chest like a purr.

Kerry smiles at him and feels a matching expression on Johnny’s lips against his forehead. 

Maybe he’s already dreaming.

#kerry x v #kerry eurodyne #male V #cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #fic advent calendar #my writing

[eastofthemoon]

I posted 1,911 times in 2022

28 posts created (1%)

1,883 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@galahadwilder

@fortunatelykawaiitiger

@mischif

@oswaldide

@bisexualbaker

I tagged 484 of my posts in 2022

#the owl house - 50 posts

#lego monkie kid - 34 posts

#this - 23 posts

#happy tag - 20 posts

#spoilers - 19 posts

#the owl house spoilers - 17 posts

#us politics - 16 posts

#writing - 13 posts

#encanto - 12 posts

#turning red - 12 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#they replaced judy's voice actress with a singer who was popular at the time and that movie not only flopped but fans are still bitter about

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Drew this for Froggyfall on twitter. I think it turned out cute.

15 notes - Posted October 26, 2022

#4

16 notes - Posted April 1, 2022

#3

Light The Lights

A silly idea that came to me. For those who aren’t familiar with the Gävle Goat   here’s a quick summary.

Anyway, here we go.

Title: Light The Lights

Series: The Muppets

Rating: G

Summary: Kermit sighed and placed his hands on his hips. "What do you guys think you're doing?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Fozzie said as he helped Scooter with a bunch of torches to the door. "We're going to burn the goat!"

Archive of Our Own

Truthfully, Kermit should have known something was up when everyone voted to go spend Christmas in Sweden in less than five minutes. They usually have to spend an hour just to agree on pizza topping.

After getting settled in the villa they were renting he caught his friends all dressed to go outside while carrying far too many fire starting supplies in their arms.  

Kermit sighed and placed his hands on his hips. "What do you guys think you're doing?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Fozzie said as he helped Scooter with a bunch of torches to the door. "We're going to burn the goat!"

Kermit could hear Sam's veins popping next to him. "What goat and why are you going to set it on fire?" "The Gävle Goat," Gonzo explained as he set down a box of TNT. "It's this tradition where they have a giant goat made out of straw and people kept burning it down."

Kermit shook their head. "Gonzo, I don't think they need your help-"

"It wasn't on purpose, people sneak in and did it," Gonzo continued as Animal walked by with a jug of gasoline. "However for a few years, the security managed to prevent it happening and well," the group exchanged exhausted expressions, "the last few years haven't exactly been great."

“That’s putting it mildly,” Rowlf said.

Kermit blinked. “Why are you bringing your keyboard?”

Rowlf shrugged. “Well, someone should play “Burn, Baby, Burn” for mood music, right?”

The group cheered at the suggestion.

“Need I remind you that this is very much illegal?” Sam snapped. “You weirdos will tarnish the noble dignity that is the American tourist.”

“Don’t worry, that’s why we got disguises,” Dr. Teeth said as he held up the clothes.

Kermit tilted his head. “You’re going as lobsters?”

“They’ll like never see it coming,” Janice said.

“LOBSTERS! LOBSTERS!” Animal cried.

Piggy huffed. “Most of us are, but I’m going as a beautiful Valkyrie.”

“I’m going as a chicken,” Gonzo chime in.

“Come on, guys,” Kermit said. “I know things have been rough, but that doesn’t mean burning a giant goat is going to change anything-"

"But that's just it, Kermie," Piggy said sweetly as she clutch the box of matches to her chest like they were jewels. "It did get burned down last year and things did get better."

"Exactly," Fozzie said, "so therefore we have to make sure it happens again!"

See the full post

16 notes - Posted November 28, 2022

#2

My current feelings if I want to see the Mario movie or not, especially given that Jack Black said we might see Bowser’s musical side.

41 notes - Posted October 7, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Wait, so Dracula is going by De Ville and right now all I can think of is

64 notes - Posted October 1, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

[jasonbehrs]

🚃  visualise the ending  🚃

by airauralintensity (aka me, jasonbehrs!)

The warning notification sounds, the doors close, the train continues onwards.

fandom: arashi characters: aiba masaki, ninomiya kazunari ship: ninoai genres: friendship, romance themes: first meetings, subways, getting to know each other, slow burn, romance implied, open ending word count: 5.2k+ rating: T+

read it on ffnet, aff, wattpad, ao3, or below!

~~~

A/N (3.3.2023): Happy Ninoai Day (in Japan)! 🔰💛💚 This story is tagged as romance, but you can definitely read this as platonic if you want to.

I started shipping Ninoai back in March 2022 (literally like a few days after Ninoai Day haha), and oviparous' works are a large part of why I am still here. This story and its title are entirely inspired by a plot point in the fic 'The non-fiction of you and me' (available on AO3), which I highly recommend to all Ninoaiers if they haven't read it yet! There are no spoilers for oviparous' fic if you happen to read this first.

~~~

Aiba's feeling green today.

He noticed he gets better results when he wears something other than the standard, penguin-suit, salaryman costume to work, so the professional side of his closet is filled with button ups and ties in bright colours that make him happy to look at; and the morning's beautiful sunshine has him feeling like he should wear green. Once that decision is made, he finishes the rest of his morning routine in record time and heads for the Makuharihongo Station.

As soon as he boards the Sobu Line, he can tell the commute this morning isn't going to be very pleasant. He's lucky that he was able to find a seat, but by the next station there were already enough commuters that people had no choice but to hold onto the ceiling handrail in front of him. In one more stop, they were all packed like sardines.

If not for one flash of pale yellow somewhere between him and the closest exit, the blacks, grays, and whites of suit jackets and collared shirts swarming before him would certainly fit the sardine analogy. He is extra glad for his spring green shirt today.

As the train continues onwards to Mitaka, Aiba indulges in his favourite subway hobby: observing people and guessing their niche personality traits. It's something he's always done; he can't tell if it's a byproduct of his profession, or maybe it's the reason he's so good at his job.

For example, the man crossing into his personal space likely ice skated in middle school, a conclusion entirely drawn from how he is able to maintain his balance in the crooked posture he's in. What appears to be the sole woman in the entire subway car probably is the middle child of a large litter of boys.

The fellow in yellow? Well, it's not a personality trait, but he's definitely about to fall.

Standing where he is and surrounded as he is, he has no good bars or straps within arms reach to moor himself. He's entirely relying on adjusting his balance between his two planted feet and apologising when he overcorrects. All it'll take is one particularly bad jostle, and—there.

In the time it takes him to blink, Aiba's already out of his seat, one hand punched through the wall of bodies to reach where he knows a handrail should be and the other wrapped around the upper chest of the nearly-horizontal man.

Leave it to the Tokyo commuters to only create space just for a man to bruise his dignity.

"Are you okay?" he asks reflexively as he sets the Fellow in Yellow upright. Aiba guides the man's closest hand to follow his arm until it reaches the rail, and they smoothly exchange positions so the other is holding on instead.

"Your seat…" The Fellow's pitying-yet-incredulous voice is clear despite the mask he's wearing.

Aiba doesn't have to turn to know someone else had occupied his vacant spot on the bench, likely as soon as he got up. In fact, it's probably the figure skater. "Don't worry about it. This is my stop!" he lies just as the next station rolls into view.

"Take care today!" Aiba waves cheerily as he gets caught up in the throng of people rushing on and off the train. He waits until the doors close before he looks around the platform to figure out just where he ended up.

Ah, Ichigaya! Not bad! It's only one stop off from his typical Yotsuya. He can walk the rest of the way to work, easy. Besides, today's a beautiful day.

~~~

Nino ducks as soon as he boards the Sobu, raising his briefcase up to hide his face as he scoots deeper into the car and farther away from his source of discomfort. He chants "shit, shit, shit" to himself the entire way, desperately hoping he wasn't seen. (At least he isn't wearing that godawful yellow shirt again today. If he ever needed a reminder to do laundry on a regular basis, that was it.)

He doesn't let his briefcase down until he grabs a spot on the complete opposite side of the train car from where he entered, but he only does so so that he can surreptitiously peer over the edge.

The Guy in Green—who isn't wearing green today, but too much time has passed for Nino to call him any other moniker at this point—seems to be completely ignorant of his presence, and Nino finally slumps over in relief.

As grateful as he felt to be saved last time, he's embarrassed that he had to be saved at all. He's usually so good at the subway-surfing thing, a skill he honed so that he could play video games while standing during his commute home. To anyone else, it may not be a big deal, but the Guy in Green's existence will serve as a constant reminder that he didn't just fail, he failed noticeably. His ego is a sensitive, mercurial thing.

He tries valiantly to stick to his morning routine of reviewing the news when movement makes him refocus his eyes and attention. The Guy in Green is getting off.

He doesn't mean to trail his eyes after the other, but something Nino is choosing to call bored curiosity encourages him to observe him. He didn't get a good look last time; besides Nino's refusal to meet the Guy's eyes, he wound up disembarking the train less than a minute later. Now, Nino can plainly see how tall the man is and how his suit jacket and slacks decidedly fit his figure.

He can also see how the Guy's rail pass flutters out of his pocket as he side-steps a woman pushing a stroller.

Nino gets to his feet. No one else on the platform seems to notice what happened, which means it's up to him to act…

… But being a good samaritan will make him late for work, and he has a major client meeting first thing this morning…

… But Guy in Green saved him from face-planting last week; and as embarrassed as Nino is to have been saved at all, he is still grateful for it.

He squeezes off the train at the last second, narrowly avoiding the automatic doors closing on his briefcase. "Wait!" he calls ineffectually, considering how far the Guy made it while Nino was too busy making up his mind.

He stoops to pick up the rail pass and bounds after the Guy in Green. "You there, wait!"

A bunch of people stop and stare after him; and after a third cry, the Guy in Green is one of them. His eyes widen as Nino hurriedly approaches him with the rail pass outstretched. "You dropped this," Nino pants as soon as he is within normal-volume-of-speaking distance.

The Guy in Green launches into his rendition of the pocket-patting dance that everyone does to verify something needs to be on their person. "Oh my god, I did. Thank you so much!"

Nino waves away the thanks easily and pulls out his phone to check the time. He's only at Yotsuya. If he boards any next train bound for Shinjuku, he'll still be late, but forgivably so. Bonus: he never has to feel awkward about meeting the Guy again; with this, they're even in the balance sheet of Nino's mind. The day is still salvageable.

"I would have gotten into trouble at my job if I lost this card!" the other continues as he rifles through his pockets. Did he drop a second thing? Nino can only do so much!

He pulls out his wallet, and Nino raises an eyebrow. "I know it's not much, but please take this as an expression of my thanks."

Instead of the money Nino expected to see, the Guy offers him a piece of cardstock with two outstretched hands. He takes it out of curiosity, and it's a half-way punched out Dotour Coffee loyalty card.

Nino sweatdrops. He's more of an indie cafe kind of guy, and he would have much preferred money besides.

He's about to politely refuse the gift when the Guy jumps in shock. "Ah, I'm gonna be late! Thanks again." He offers a hurried, partial bow then turns on his heel, leaving Nino standing on the platform and staring after the man's lithe form running for the turnstiles.

Nino looks down at his phone again and makes a decision. If he's going to be late anyway, he might as well be extra late with some coffee and sweet bread for everyone at the meeting.

If he happens to get them from Dotour, too, well… that isn't anyone's business.

~~~

Aiba will admit he didn't think much about the Fellow in Yellow at first. Shortly after the near-fall, he had already forgotten it had happened. It is only because of their second encounter that Aiba can remember that he had offhandedly noticed the other's round nose, an impression Aiba could gain because he wasn't fully wearing his mask that first time and then wasn't wearing a mask at all the next time. If it weren't for how he saved Aiba's rail pass last week, Aiba definitely wouldn't have thought of him any further.

But he did, and Aiba does. He can now add a short but lean frame and a high, nasally voice to the list of things he knows about the Fellow in Yellow, and he isn't that surprised to realise he wants to learn more.

As the one who gets on the Sobu Line first, the onus is really on him if he wants to see the other again; and Aiba doesn't question it (as he doesn't with most things) before he devotes himself headlong to this endeavour.

Their commutes home are likely too erratic to align by accident, so the mornings are his only chance. He starts by systematically trying combinations of train times and car numbers to get a sense of the Fellow's boarding habits. At every stop after Makuharihongo, Aiba scans the commuters on the platform to see if he could recognise the person he's looking for among them.

Luckily for Aiba, humans are creatures of habit. It takes him only one business week to figure out that the Fellow boards at Shin-Koiwa, one week more to discern which cars he prefers, and just a few days afterwards to work out the timing.

It is worth it for the look of pure shock on the Fellow's face when he gets on, plops onto an available seat facing the doors, and sees Aiba sitting directly across from him. The Fellow hesitates before offering a weak wave then promptly looks down at his phone, but Aiba still considers that a win.

The same thing happens the next day, except Aiba is standing.

On the third day, the Fellow in Yellow finally looks at him with suspicion instead of surprise, and all Aiba can do is smile.

~~~

They don't really talk much, which bothers Nino more than history suggests it should bother Nino.

Actually, a lot of things about this new, unlikely, yet easy arrangement bothers Nino, chief of which is that for all their commiserations over train delays and silent acknowledgements of funny people they see in their cars, he still doesn't know the Guy in Green's name; and it additionally bothers him that that even bothers him to begin with.

The Guy hasn't even worn green at all since that first time (today, the prominent colour is a citrus-adjacent level of orange), so the nickname feels disingenuous with every passing day. Nino hasn't the first clue about how to broach the topic now, though. He thinks it might be too long since the first time to cover the basis of names.

"By the way, I'm Aiba! Aiba Masaki."

Or not. Unlikely but easy, indeed. "Ninomiya Kazunari," he offers with a curt bow of his head.

"It's nice to formally meet you, Ninomiya-san."

"Nino."

Aiba-san jerks his head forward in astonishment. "'Nino'?" He looks like he's fighting very hard not to let a smile overtake his face and losing, and Nino can't begrudge him for it. His own coworkers haven't been given permission to call him anything less formal than 'Ninomiya-kun', but Aiba-san gets the privilege after barely two weeks of acquaintance?

He resolves not to look too deeply into it. In any case, it's not something he can take back now. "You can call me Nino," he affirms.

Aiba-san fully surrenders the battle with his smile. "You can call me Maa-kun!"

"I'm not going to do that."

He pouts. Aiba-san has got to be at least thirty, maybe even thirty-five, and he's pouting in broad daylight. "What are you going to call me, then?"

"Aiba-san." An answer and an admonishment.

"The least you could do is drop the -san!" Aiba whines; and just like that, Nino has begun eschewing the -san even in his own mind.

"We'll see about that," he retorts for the mere sake of being obstinate.

~~~

In the stops before Nino arrives, Aiba frets.

He constantly entertains thoughts of asking Nino about his commuting home habits, but he's worried it might be overstepping some unseen boundaries. Their conversations, while enjoyable and easily the highlight of his day, don't get very personal; and he displayed enough stalkerish tendencies to force them into this tentative yet burgeoning friendship to begin with. Every time, he has to resign himself to the fact that Nino's company must remain a once-a-day kind of deal.

Even the topic he's broaching today is a strong departure from their typical terms of engagement, but he would feel so bad if he let it go undiscussed. He's still nervous about it, though. He wore yellow today, a colour he has started associating with good luck.

Nino boards, and they exchange routine pleasantries before he's nose-deep into his phone. Aiba has since gathered that whatever Nino reads every morning is a part of his morning routine and not a conversation avoidance tactic, so he typically honours that unless he has a funny observation to make.

Today, however, he will gladly take it as an excuse to postpone the conversation he wants to have.

He doesn't muster up the courage to say anything until Ichigaya, and it comes out in a rush. "I'm leaving on a business trip today."

"Hm? Where to?"

"Sapporo." Aiba anxiously watches the tunnel zip pass as they get closer and closer to his stop.

"Nice. I hope the crab is still in season," Nino comments distractedly, still reading whatever he reads on his phone.

Finally Yotsuya's platform comes into view, and Aiba can't hold it back anymore, even if Nino didn't ask. Even if Nino didn't want to know. "I'll be back on Tuesday."

"Oh. … Oh!"

Aiba's strange relief that Nino had any reaction at all coincides with the conductor announcing their stop. "Yeah," he says apologetically as he stands up, even though he doesn't know exactly what it is he's apologising for.

Nino opens his mouth to say something, but the doors open then, and Aiba gets caught up amongst the throng of people trying to board and disembark at the same time. He casts desperate eyes to meet Nino's, but he only gets a glimpse before he finds himself staring at the Sobu train continuing on its way to Mitaka. Aiba is left on the rapidly un-crowding platform, still and empty.

They didn't even get to say goodbye.

~~~

He doesn't have to look to know Aiba is about to start a conversation. Maybe he's just become more sensitive to it as a defense mechanism, but he swears something in the air changes. The weight of his focus is heavy.

"Hey, Nino. Have you always taken the Sobu?"

Nino hides a snort. He knows what Aiba is asking. In the past several weeks, he's discovered that the logic part of the time-honoured Japanese art of subtlety is lost on Aiba.

"It's very likely that we've ridden in the same car before. I've been at my company for a couple of years already, but I got promoted a few months ago, so now I can come in later than I used to."

Aiba exaggeratedly checks his watch, peeking behind a patterned red shirt. "This is late for you?"

Nino shrugs. "That's life when you work in finance."

"Finance! Fancy." Nino doesn't get to dwell too long on the fact that after all this time Aiba didn't even know what he spent his daylight hours doing, that he should probably do a better job of telling Aiba more about himself, or that maybe it's weird that he wants Aiba to know more about himself, before Aiba continues. "I'm a pollster!"

"Like, during elections?"

"No, no, like… Have you ever watched News Zero? You know how sometimes the hosts talk about statistics that you didn't realise anybody was even tracking?"

Unbidden, Nino remembers one such weird statistic from last Monday's episode. "Like how fruit popularity varies between prefectures?"

"Exactly! My company does analysis like that, and I poll for the data. I love ranking things, I always have. Even though I don't get to do the ranking myself, I'm happy that I even get to contribute." Aiba punctuates the thought with a bright grin.

It is such a niche job, but Aiba seems to be such a niche person, so Nino supposes it works out. Besides, it's better that someone like Aiba is doing that work than someone like Nino. Aiba just has the kind of face that makes you want to tell him things. Nino would know; he's on the receiving end of its power every workday. He finds that he must actively refrain from blurting out absolutely ridiculous things like "I saw a movie yesterday, and the lead character reminded me of you" or "Wanna head to an izakaya after work?", a show of restraint he's never had to display before.

He realises with a jolt that he hasn't really replied to Aiba yet; but before he could save face, Aiba abruptly points to the sky. So unlikely. "I rank this job as Number 1 in the country!"

Nino bypasses gratitude for sardonicism in the way it has been increasingly difficult to do lately. "I possess no knowledge that would impel me to disagree with you."

Aiba laughs. So easy. "I don't even know how to draw the word 'impel'!"

~~~

Nino boards the train looking like death in motion. "Had a call with Los Angeles," he preempts the question as he sits down, then he promptly lolls his head onto Aiba's shoulder and passes out.

Like with most things, Aiba doesn't question the sudden show of skinship and instead tries with all his might to make his bony shoulder the most comfortable pillow on the planet. For the rest of the trip, he glares at people who bump into the knees of his sleeping charge, he curses the volume of the conductor's announcements that make his eyebrows furrow even in sleep. Aiba keeps as still as possible, regardless of how the turbulent subway ride is more likely to rouse Nino than any movement Aiba makes. In any case, he was trusted with a responsibility, and he's not going to mess this up.

Nino isn't wearing a mask again today. The softness of his face is more prominent in his sleep, squished as it is against his blue-clad shoulder. He hates to wake Nino up, but he knows Shinjuku is next. (Between Nino's profession and their months of early morning camaraderie, it was easy to pick up that Nino alights the metro a few stops after his.)

"Nino, your stop is coming up."

"Wha—?" His voice is bleary with unvoiced yawns, and something inside of Aiba yearns. He wishes that the train would malfunction, that a small fire would break out on the tracks and cause a slight delay, that anything would let the moment last a moment longer. Nino clearly needs the rest.

But the conductor announces Shinjuku all too soon, Nino jumps into alertness, and Aiba's side goes cold.

"Holy shit!" Nino frantically searches his surroundings, searching for something that Aiba can't help him with. It isn't until the train slows enough for Nino to read the signs outside that he calms down. "Oh, thank god. I thought I missed my stop."

"I wouldn't have let you." Belatedly, Aiba remembers to smile. "No worries."

Nino pats Aiba on the shoulder with the patronising affection only someone like him could pull off. "That's because you're a good person, Aiba-shi."

When the doors open, Nino joins the crowd of people disembarking with a jaunty salute in Aiba's direction. He must have been really frazzled if he forgot to act like he and Aiba aren't friends.

Then the warning notification sounds, the doors close, and the train continues onwards.

Aiba lets out a deep sigh of relief. Just as well. If Nino is still high on adrenaline and gratitude, he can't think about how Aiba was around to wake him up on time in the first place. If he makes the connection anytime today, he'll have to bring it up tomorrow; and Aiba will surely have an excuse lined up by then. For the first time, he's grateful that they never exchanged LINE information.

He only rides until Okubo, one stop past Shinjuku, before getting off. While he waits for a train headed in the opposite direction, he gets a call from his boss asking where he is; and he smoothly makes up a white lie about sleeping on the subway and missing his stop.

~~~

"Nothing to read on your phone today, Nino?"

Nino startles back into awareness. Has Aiba been trying to get his attention for long? "Um, not today. No."

Aiba's eyes take on an excited shine. "Okay, I have a story to tell you. It's kind of long, so I held onto it for a morning you weren't busy reading." Nino elects to refrain from mentioning that Aiba has frequently interrupted his morning reading in the past. "Last year, my family and I went on vacation to New York…"

While Aiba goes on about the city's own crowded metro system, Nino's mind wanders back to the reason he can't focus enough to read the news on his phone.

The Dotour Coffee loyalty card burns a hole in his wallet with its call to action. It only needs one more visit to redeem the reward—a dessert of the customer's choosing—and it has for a few weeks now. Nino has had plenty of opportunities to stop by the Dotour by his office in that time, but he can never make himself go inside.

He tells himself it's because the desserts at Dotour suck; but sitting here and half-listening to Aiba embellish his story with unnecessary details he believes to be funny, Nino can only be honest with himself.

He wants to redeem the reward with Aiba.

He has imagined the conversation so many times in his mind. He'd casually go, 'Hey, when's your lunch? I'm going to Dotour to redeem the loyalty card thing. I was gonna go by myself, but I figured it's only fair that you come with me since we both contributed to it.' Aiba would probably vibrate out of his seat in excitement, and Nino would carefully hide his satisfaction with a bent head as they compare schedules on their phones.

"... And that's how I learned that passenger pushers are not a thing in other countries!" Aiba erupts in giggles as he finishes, and Nino wants to roll his eyes. Aiba sucks at telling stories. Nino wasn't even paying attention, and he could already tell what happened.

Instead he tampers a frown. Indeed. He could already tell Aiba would be happy to join him, but it's just not enough for some reason. Their friendship is supposed to be easy, but he's the one making it difficult.

The conductor announces Yotsuya, and Aiba jumps up from his seat with a stretch. "I've been holding that in forever. Now I have to think of another story to tell you on a morning you aren't busy!"

"I'll, uh, I'll look forward to it," Nino says, just because it's been too long since he's said something.

Aiba bows shallowly, his cheeky little "Yoroshiku~" getting lost in the din once the train doors open. He bounds off to his fabulous job as a pollster, and Nino doesn't say a damn thing.

He sighs to himself. There's always next time.

~~~

In the stops before Nino boards, Aiba frets.

He's known for almost two weeks now, but he could never figure out the right time to say it, and it's almost too late. If not today, then never. He knows he has to say something. He wants to say something, but he cannot find the courage.

The train pulls into Shin-Koiwa, and Aiba's heart hurts. Just like those early days, Nino is waiting on the platform with his face buried in his phone. Habit and hope have him standing at the same pillar every work day because it faces the door that opens into the car where he knows he'll find Aiba. The conflict between how happy Aiba is to see him and how much he dreaded facing him peaks with this subtle representation of the relationship they've built.

The train was kind of full this morning, so Aiba had elected to hold onto one of the overhead grab handles right in front of the doors instead of taking a seat and leaving Nino to stand. When Nino boards, he easily takes his place right next to Aiba, one arm reaching up for balance and the other managing his phone and briefcase. As far as he is concerned, today is just another day in the monotony of capitalism.

The same obstacle that prevented him from confessing the truth every time before emerges once again: His life is changing, but he wants to preserve the Nino whose life doesn't have to.

He's a coward. He knows he's a coward, and now he is also a thief. He has robbed Nino of the time and chance to process, but there's nothing he can do about it now except tell Nino his truth.

Before long, they depart from Ichigaya, and it is Aiba's last chance.

"Hey, Nino?"

"Hm?" Nino acknowledges distractedly, scrolling as ever.

Aiba takes a deep breath, one last delaying tactic before everything changes. He almost wants to cry from the anxiety; but instead of tears, words spill out of him, jumbled and in one breath.

.

Aiba takes a second to start his thought. This strikes Nino as odd because Aiba is not the kind of man who puts forethought into anything, especially his own thoughts; but he just waits. His industry is very dependent on other industries' actions, and failing to prepare is preparing to fail. That's why he diligently reads the news every morning even though he'd really rather talk to Aiba.

Then: "I'm being transferred. The Hokkaido trip I told you about a few months back? It was a success. My company wants to open a new branch there, and I was specifically picked to find and train new pollsters. It's a great opportunity…"

Nino nods along absentmindedly while Aiba talks, and then his thumb stills. His head snaps up then over, his eyes wide and entirely focused on his visibly stressed friend.

Aiba's hand grips the handle tighter. "I'm, um, I'm not going to be taking this train anymore," he ends weakly.

"Yeah, no shit," Nino snarks on impulse, but there's no heat in it. In fact, Nino feels ice cold.

"Yeah, no shit," Nino snarks, but it's mild, reflexive, almost calming. If Nino can still snark, Nino must be okay.

The calm distorts into hurt before Aiba can stop it, and he berates himself. He always intended for the reveal to be a factual exchange of information, merely a notice—he reminded himself time and again and even now that Nino's life will not be impacted by his announcement; it's not supposed to be—but his chest still goes tight with anticipation, waiting for something more from Nino. He's wanting something more from Nino.

Instead, the next voice he hears is the conductor's on the loudspeaker. "This stop: Yotsuya."

Nino, for his part, is very, very still.

With these last seconds at his disposal, Aiba wonders if he should fill the empty air. He has so much to say, actually, but he doesn't think he can give voice to any of them without said voice absolutely breaking. Instead, he looks into Nino's unblinking eyes, hoping his own can convey enough for him.

I'm so sorry I didn't tell you sooner. The best thing that ever happened to me was meeting you. Thank you for your company all these mornings.

Goodbye.

.

"This stop: Yotsuya."

Aiba is looking at him so earnestly, waiting for his reaction, like he always is, like Nino is always making him do. He knows he has to say something, he wants to say something, but he is frozen with emotion. Anxiety, confusion, anger, desperation—what does he do with these things?

He can't pull his eyes away from Aiba's face, but the rest of their surroundings still come into hyper focus. The rumble of the subway car, people shuffling to get ready to disembark, too many different kinds of cologne in the air—he is aware of them all, yet his senses still feel dulled. It's like a movie playing at one frame a second. Every detail is apparent to him, but perceiving them is meaningless.

Pushing through the overstimulation, his brain gets flooded with visions instead. They are not memories, no, because they never happened. Drinks in his favourite izakaya. Lunches spent commiserating over coworkers. Train rides home.

They never happened because he never asked for them. Why didn't he? And what could he possibly ask from Aiba now?

(He could feel something clawing its way from his subconscious to his tongue, but it doesn't make any sense. Aiba has no reason to stay, and Nino has no reason to convince him.)

He doesn't know what he can do, what he can say. He's running out of time.

Sooner than he is ready for it, the train stops. The automatic doors pull apart before them. His head snaps toward the offensive opening, his eyes glaring with the full force of the injustice and his fear.

.

The automatic doors pull apart before them, and that's it. His time on the Sobu is over.

Aiba forces himself to let go of the grab handle, and the arm drops limply to his side now that it no longer has a purpose. There is nothing left tethering him to this moment.

Nino isn't even looking at him anymore, and Aiba steels himself. If that's as much of an answer as he's going to get, he will accept it. He deserves nothing better for how he let this relationship end. He is a coward, he is a thief, and he is just another commuter.

With one last glance at Nino's passive profile—still waiting, still hoping, still not knowing why—Aiba moves forward and blends in with the ensuing flurry of activity that accompanies every train stop. His face is forward, his steps are unwilling, and his tears are swift; but at least this time he got to say goodbye.

A two-toned caution echoes in the car behind him, a call for attention, a warning of finality.

.

"Please stand away from the closing doors."

Nino gets to his feet.

~~~

A/N (3.3.2023): If you're so inclined, follow me on twitter. :)

#arashi #ninoai #aimiya #ninomiya kazunari #aiba masaki #jpop #arashi fanfiction #jaso*

[googledocsdyke]

banging on the walls of misha collins' handcrafted california home begging him to talk about a fictional gay man while he calmly ignores me to recite the story of the time he saw a great blue heron snatch up and kill a rat in one fell swoop

#what's the exchange rate on my dignity #sasha.txt #spn

[missgeniality]

Unicorn Ride (m)

“What do men know? Because they have seen no unicorns for a while does not mean we have all vanished.” – Peter S. Beagle

➺ Banner: The amazingly talented @kithtaehyung ❤️

➺ Pairing: Jimin x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Strangers to ??, PWP, Non-Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Smut

➺ Rating: +18

➺ Word Count: 8.8k

➺ Summary: Hunting men down at a club is inviting disappointment with open arms. But tonight, your body has been twisted, turned and bent on every possible surface, and you might be willing to reconsider. 

➺ Warnings: alcohol, dom!jimin, bratty!Y/N, a very desperate Y/N, making out, biting, light exhibitionism, elevator oral (female), fingering, Y/N tastes herself, some dirty talk, Y/N could have flashed someone at one point, degradation, spanking, Y/N grinds on a knee, Jimin has his tattoo, blowjob, one pussy slap somewhere, throat fucking, spitting, anal fingering, begging, edging, protected sex, rough sex

➺ Author’s Note: It’s here! The reason for my nightmare, THIS PARK JIMIN! This is purely self-indulgent, it has no plot, I wrote the dialogues half asleep, it’s 8000 words of mess in bold and highlight. Thank you to my betas: @taegularities​, who not only betaed this but listened to me complain about my writing for weeks, @kithtaehyung​​, who is always ready to beta and make banners for me whenever I need, even though her plate is more than full with her own work, and @bangtanhome​​, who jumped by to help me with many details and hyped me up like nobody’s business - I love y’all! Fic starts under the cut, because we’re filthy from the get-go. 

This fic is dedicated to @mimikookie​ for BTS Writers Club’s fic exchange - Bambi, love, cutie, sweetie pie - I hope you enjoy this!! 💛

As always, please let me know what you thought of the fic, my messages and ask box are always open for comments!

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

When you stepped into the hotel bar tonight, your aim was to take a mediocre dressed man back home, to use his mediocre working dick to get to a mediocre impact orgasm. 

With the sex gods looking out for your deprived soul, you got yourself a classy, impeccably dressed man, with the features of an angel and a tongue of the devil digging deep into your cunt in this elevator, when your rooms could be fifteen steps away; if you ever thought to get out, that is. You couldn’t even wait to get to the safety of your room, the panels of this ornate elevator ask you, mock you, taunt you; but your brain cells refuse to find an answer, shutting off to fully experience the wreckage his mouth is leaving behind. 

With your heels in hand, you haul your ass across the hotel lobby, naked feet thwacking against the marble floor. Not one man in the club downtown had the IQ of two peas, studded with the inability to hold a tolerable conversation; the star of this glimmering night being the man who leered “I’d like to push your buttons” while staring down your chest. You need dick, badly, if you may add; but it’s a constant fight between your pussy and your standards. And now here you are, filled with dignity instead of cock.

Your feet lead you to the long row of elevators, and you press the button to summon one to finally haul your ass to bed. But a twinge in you tells you to check the hotel bar; maybe you'll get lucky and find a man to slip your room number to, movie style. Well, let's be real, it's more likely for you to find a fifty-year-old CEO with no qualms on cheating on his wife and fructose fathering your existence, but your blue-balled self will take it. So you turn around, and determinedly march towards the bar, intent on not letting your dignity win the war. 

Empty. Well, except for one couple in the corner of the bar seating, who look exceptionally wasted and hitting a base that's far gone from first. Oh well, at least someone is getting it on, you sigh before seating yourself on the barstool. You're here, might as well exploit the bar.

"What's a unicorn margarita?" you ask the bartender. Fuck, even this bartender doesn't look interested. What's the point of a bartender if he's not down to fuck?! 

"Tequila, cointreau, lemon and some blueberry syrup," he rattles off from memory, showing no hint of any emotion, making it difficult for you to gauge the side of the spectrum this drink lies in. 

You're about to change your order - fuck, if you lead your day further down the dumps - but your response never leaves the confines of your throat as a new member joins your little bar party. 

Tinted glasses are what you first see. Who pulls off such glasses anyway? Indoors too? Only this stranger. His suit looks like it was stitched right over his body, not a single extra patch of fabric to mar the stunner outfit with unwanted creases. The only wanted crease you can tell is at his buttoned blazer, cinching to spotlight his svelte waist visible through all the layers. 

He struts in, every step he takes echoing a clack across this dreary bar, and every sound straightens your spine further and further in sheer anticipation to see him up close. Shoulders swinging, he walks in like he knows he owns the world, and that you don't know about; he definitely owns a couple of things in you. 

His hair, a whole crime. Streaks of pink and purple streaming through his lush platinum tufts, refusing to fall out of place even as he drags his fingers through them and brushes them behind, and you're almost ready to drool and bark at him like a ravenous dog; but he does the sin of meeting your eyes - a questioning glance, slated eyes and raised eyebrows. 

God, that's a seat for your face.

"Hello? Ma'am? You want the unicorn margarita?" 

"Uhm, yea-yeah, sure." And you move your eyes back to the cotton candy across the bar. 

Apart from your neurons not firing off and the general state of mind where you would say yes to close to anything for this man, you're curious to see what this bar could do to make or break the classic drink. One sip in, you can tell it's the latter; the blueberry syrup added for color has a sickening sweetness you can’t digest.  

Across the bar, you see him holding the same multicolored drink in hand, his pretty face scrunched up in distaste as he mirrors your feelings. Your eyes meet, and he smiles when he sees your glass.

“A mistake if I ever made one,” he calls out to you, and you grin in reply. Fuck it, even if you can't get laid, you definitely can't make it through this drink alone. Stepping off of your bar stool, you make your way to him. 

“Are you looking for some company? Preferably people drowning in similar miseries?”

“Aren’t you dramatic,” he welcomes you with that godsend voice of his, as you take your throne beside this gorgeous specimen. As he sips that cursed drink, his beautiful face crinkles once again in anguish. “You know what? I take that back. Hundred percent valid, your thoughts.” You laugh out loud as you gulp your drink down in one go, not wanting to elongate your time spent with the pitiful excuse of a cocktail.

“Jimin," he begins to offer his introduction, "I buy drinks to match my hair. What’s your excuse?”

"Y/N. I have a pitiful amount of faith in barmen even though they always disappoint me."

"Ooh, are we still talking drinks here?"

Success. You’ve brought sex to the table, and with some luck and the right play, you could be having sex on a table. You cock your head to the side in question, and your flirtatiously raised eyebrow cues him into your understanding. 

"Of course," you flutter your eyelashes in a show of innocence, "what else could it possibly be?"

He shakes his head, your eyes dripping with a saccharine glow for someone with a dirty mouth. With another sip of the dastardly drink, he asks, “So what brings you to town?”

“Just here and there,” you shrug, not wanting to talk shop, “vacationing and stuff.” You raise your hand to beckon the bartender, who begrudgingly paces towards your side of the counter. “A bourbon on the rocks, please,” you throw him a glance, “would you like a repeat of that?” you mock.

“Oh no.” Jimin downs the glass, trying to keep his reaction to a minimum lest he offended the bartender, “the same will do for me as well.”

“Ohh, a bourbon guy, a man after my own heart,” you praise his choice of poison, clinking your new and drinkable glass of liquor with his own. He gives you a raised eyebrow in response before swallowing his shot down in one gulp, and fuck. When was the last time you found the bob of an Adam’s Apple hot? When did a sideways glance have your panties in a bunch? You push the thought away, not wanting to reminisce about your recent lack of adventure, and tip your glass down in one go. The crisp, cold liquid glides down your throat, the sting of bourbon cleansing your palate, ridding your tastebuds of the horrendous sugariness.

“So, vacationing, you said.” Arched eyebrows curtain his curious eyes, glancing down to soak up your dress of the night, sequined lace that hugs your thighs far too high up - your fishnet stockings not covering much of what’s exposed - posing a guileless question, “Having fun then?”

You cross your legs, for no good reason other than to ensure the shift in your hemline caused by the movement catches his fancy, and to your glee, it does. You bask in his anchored attention before adjusting your dress again, leaving the skin he could possibly see to his astir imagination.

 “I wish. Haven’t had my fill,” you match his gaze when they meet, keeping them steady save for his occasional flit across to admire your curves. You beckon for the bartender to ask for a refill before presenting your own question. “What about you? What brings you here?”

“Let’s just pretend I’m here on a super-secret James Bond-esque mission because the reality is fucking depressing.”

A soft, sonorous giggle, very unlike his suave, sleek disposition bursts out of his delicate lips, catching your own laugh in surprise - he laughs without heed, without worrying about how loud or how soft he is - his refreshing aura rumbles forth a second roll of laughter within you, just to keep up with his endless sniggers. 

“Why not,” you wipe a small tear droplet from the corner of your eye, “and I can be the sexy villain, one who seduces you in the first part, just to-” you hold your forefinger and middle finger out, curling the rest inward and point your makeshift gun at him, “-to hold a gun to your head in the immediate next scene.”

He’s still smiling at you, soft features clearly enjoying your silly company, as he slyly wraps his hand around your jutted fingers, tugging your gun closer. “I mean, we have to try and stick to the script,” he says, voice lowering in decibel with each word uttered, the cherubic smile slowly fading into something sinister, “you have to give me some action before we - you know - literally jump the gun.”

“Of course, a Bond movie needs some action.”

“I hope we’re talking about the same action here.”

He gives you a cheeky wink after the statement, one that you return with an earnest blush - blush? Weren’t you ready to gobble dick in public mere moments ago? Weren’t you all but willing to be fucked into the counter till every floor is made aware of your sordid quest? The heat warming up your cheeks goes completely against your motive; you need to drink the decorum out of you.

You try to release your hand from his - surprisingly strong and surprisingly soft - grip, turning to the bartender to ask for a refill, when the grip on your hand pulls you closer to its direction, and you’re a hair’s breadth away from touching noses. “Are you sure you wanna do that?”

“Get another drink?” you attempt to clarify, trying to ignore the thudding of your heart, “Worried I can’t handle myself?”

“I’m worried you can’t handle me.”

Fuck. Why does he have to say the perfect things to make you flood your pussy, and with such nonchalance like it’s a casual Tuesday for him? You’ve had men talk like you were their accountant, their underling, or both - a blase lack of effort or lack of respect evident in their voices. But Jimin is the best of both worlds (copyright queen Miley), there’s a hardened edge to his tone, without simply assuming your complicity - respect hidden within the raggedness. How complex is this man, and how far will you bend for him?

Only time will tell. 

Hopefully, time will tell. 

“I’m a big girl, I can handle it. Besides, at the pace we’re going, it seems like it’ll be long before any action takes place.” 

Your hands drag free of his hold to ask for another hit, but a sound makes you stop. His glass, now rid of the dark brown liquid, meets the bar counter with a loud clink, louder than the earlier ones. Each remaining ice cube rings against each other, and the bells in your head awaken in anticipation of some movement to this slowly progressing scene. Sliding off the barstool in some smooth motion, he buttons his suit up before stretching his hand out to you. You meet his eyes, now veiled with drapes of lust and affection instead of his glasses, and you’re happy to uncurtain those and find what truly hides behind.

“Which floor are you on?” he poses the question, a precursor to the long-awaited ask of the night.

“Depends. Which one are you on?”

"Oh-oh Jimin!" 

Your head is thrown back, hitting the wall of the elevator in a sonorant thud, but the pain doesn't even register. It feels like the elevator cords could snap and throw the both of you into the abyss and still, Jimin wouldn't stop licking the syrups you're churning out, and you couldn't have any feeling come in between you and the long wished for pleasure that runs through your body. 

“Keep them spread, don’t you try to close them on me.” 

With not a care in the world, Jimin had dropped to his knees (after pushing you to the corner, quite literally), and immediately settled between your legs. His suit looks expensive - Armani? Gucci? All you can say he’s eating you out like Dolce ate Gabbana. Your stockings, followed by the strip of cloth protecting your modesty were torn in heat of the moment, the scrapped bunch thrown to one corner of this elevator - the fabric skillfully being replaced by the strip of his tongue. The view of his multicolored hair between your legs, the bright, vivid ribbons adorning his soft blonde locks as they find residence between your legs stirs fractious excitement within your fragile heart.

“Look at that, are your knees about to give out?” Jimin’s soft murmurs reach your ear, but never make it to your brain, focus completely elsewhere. He smiles lightly, continuing his torment, speaking against your nether lips, “I am not against laying you flat right here and taking you whole.”

“I-” You don’t have words to say, and even if you did, your throat would refuse to comply with any movement that is not a moan. What you do though, is lodge your hands in his hair to attempt to control him. Attempt would be a strong word, because he seems to know your body better than your own junky fingers. You raise your left leg to bring it around his neck, eliciting a sly smile that you can feel on your nether lips. Snaking an arm around your hip, he pulls you into him, as if there is any distance to close. 

“Seems like you aren’t either,” Jimin chuckles, his sultry voice crackling in the confines of the elevator, “your mess is dripping down baby, it’s so sexy.” He drags the flat of his tongue from your thighs, collecting your arousal, bringing it up to press against your clit, feeling it palpitate as all your blood wheels itself downstairs. “Tell me,” he coos, “how do you like the idea of fucking me right here?”

“Aah! Fu-” is all he hears because he starts sucking your nub, and a very-frazzled you slam your palms on the rows of buttons in the panel, setting the elevator in motion.

“Jimin, wait-” With short, quick pants, you try to look back at the panel, trying to see how you can get the elevator back to your original destination, but Jimin isn’t happy with your attention faltering towards him.

“Sweetheart,” he calls out to you playfully, but his racy fingers trace a line right from your ankle, moving upward, completely differing his honey-voice, “What’s got you worried? Afraid someone will see you? Like this?”

His 'this' was not simple. The 'this' was punctuated by two thick fingers entering your dripping hole, not to mention his cheeky thumb finding your clit to torture it even more. With all the bases covered down here, Jimin’s lips move up, his free hand searching for your nipples as his lips search for answers to unsaid questions in the nook of your neck. 

“Will you step away,” his whisper jolts your mind, “if the doors open?” He sucks in your skin, harder, almost telling you there’s no way he’s letting you move away. But the clench of your walls, the slick dribbling down his fingers, they tell a different tale. Your hardening nipple under your dress, your fervid whimpers, and your head moving to give him more access don’t rock your pictorial boat. A weak “no” glides by between your wails and mewls, and Jimin’s pleasure with your answer shows. His thumb resting on your clit starts making a move, and together with his digits inside you, your eyes might as well roll back into your skull because this has to be demonic. Your orgasm is crashing right around the corner, and you-

Ding!

To your absolute horror, the elevator doors open your show to the public i.e., an old couple looking forward to entering, taking a step or two inside before you can hear the gasp of shock, disgust, and embarrassment all rolled up in one, at your - umm - compromised state of affairs. 

“Jimin!”

You peek over his shoulder to see the scarred souls; they still haven’t moved away from the astonishing scene, and it is uneasy, your pussy is gushing at the thought of having an audience for your debauchery. You mutter a quiet ‘sorry’ to the traumatized couple before shifting your focus back to the man of the hour, who seems not the least bit perturbed by the happenings. His fingers are still lodged inside, looking still on the outside, but curling inside to stimulate her g-spot, and your eyes could be looking behind if they could roll that far.  

“What do you want me to do?” could have been a very innocent question from a very concerned individual. Jimin was no such man. The sneer in his whispered voice was registered by you as he registered the ever-growing waterfall you are releasing onto his hand. Lips curved to the right, he sees your fucked out state, soaking in your teetering-at-the-brink-of-orgasm glow. “Want me to move, let them see how fucked out my tongue got you?”

Your hand shoots out to grab his collar as the elevator dings back shut, and you pull him close, pushing yourself back onto his fingers, - only to have your lips consumed by his own, with a force mimicked by his digits plunging deeper into your cunt. His tongue pushes its way into your cave, awakening your own muscle with its moves, and relocating it to his own mouth where he sucks it away like nectar from a honey hive. 

Jimin’s response to your voracity is “Maybe I’ll invite the next people to join, you seem to like that.” 

You let out an irritated huff, face heated up in an embarrassing glow whilst trying to find a spot on his neck to latch onto. One night (one that has barely begun) and you’re already rediscovering yourself. 

“Stop awakening latent kinks in me, I need to get back to normal men.” 

His fingers card through your tresses until they reach your scalp, tugging you off his neck to look right into your eyes. From your peripheral vision, the glow of his lips, coated in a shiny sheen of your arousal and saliva glistens under the lighting, and you dart forth to clean that up for him but he stalls. 

Seeing your fucked out state, Jimin chuckles, "Fuck, you’re clenching so hard baby, so good."

So cocky. 

You might love him. 

Instead of saying something embarrassing, you force him closer, joining lips before snapping back, "Oh, I’m good. I’d be great if you actually made me come."

The creases on his forehead show that he's not one to back down from a challenge. You jolt up, practically balancing yourself on the balls of your feet, as both the elevator starts moving to a new destination, and his fingers start moving deeper, massaging and curling inward, letting the base of his palm apply generous pressure on your clit. Heated breath embraces your skin as he snickers into your ear, “Make you? From the looks of it,” accompanied by another harsh pump, “I can make you do just about anything.”

The gall this man has, to go around stating complete facts. With his hand just about ready to touch the sky, he reaches deep within you, three thick digits performing a graceful dance on the slippery stage of your pussy walls, when he grabs your lower lip between his teeth. Your response is felt, hard, as you clench around the intrusion, and he digs his teeth in, harder. The elevator beeps open on a new floor, but you are unbothered by whether you invite a new audience or not. If they come in, hopefully, they enjoy it as much as you do. Probably not.

“Tall words,” is what tries to leave your mouth, but your entire body squirming under his attention swallows any chutzpah your words could have conveyed. His sturdy fingers touch all the right points, from his thumb soothing your engorged nub, to his digits ensconced in your warmth curling into the patch that is making your head hit the walls for the nineteenth time today. His lazy lips suck, bite and pinch any skin they find, tracing your jawline with his spittle, and you’ve never been this turned on, so keyed up, this stimulated from all ends, that you can’t control the cascading orgasm gushing through you.

Your body feels like rubber, still reeling from the effects - your climax feels endless, like an onslaught that refuses to end. From what, just fingering? Only when Jimin kisses your cheek, in adoration almost, and plucks his digits out of you, do you truly return from your high to plant your feet on planet Earth.

Your hand is still digging into his tie, which is crumpled beyond recognition - and you pull him into you. Your lips fit again, like they always knew how to, not a string of awkwardness, shifting of positions, or adjustments of angles - it just fits right. Jimin breaks contact, much to your pique, until he brings his sullied fingers to fill in in his lips’ stead; your eyes shut at the taste you were unprepared for, moaning loudly to convey your approval of his ideas. 

 “I love a woman who can enjoy herself,” Jimin mutters in marvel, smearing the leftover juices on his fingers onto your lips. “Love that you don’t quiet down.” When you dart your tongue out to taste the rest, his fingers block your way, only to whisper “Allow me,” before diving in to taste your arousal intermingled with your saliva. It is intoxicating, every move of his awakening a new cell of lechery you didn’t know you had in you. 

You do exactly as he desired, you’re loud and messy. Open-mouthed kisses and intense, throaty moans to respond to every right thing he does, which is basically everything; your tongues meld together to taste whatever the other did, and your hands move messily across his whole body, trying to feel him through the multiple layers of cloth he adorns. The only part you can feel is his hardened cock, stiff and unrelenting; your palms come down to his ass and push him to you, grinding his cock against your wet core. If you caught him by surprise, he doesn’t show it, still fully lost in making out with you. You are caught unaware though, his taut butt cheeks are not what you had expected. Plump, cushy, a handful to grab - what a marvel of science he is.

"I believe I have a favor to return," you offer when both your lips retire for a breather.

"It was wholly my pleasure, but seeing as you're eager, I won't say no," Jimin says, before diving into your lips again.

If it wasn't enough to scar that poor old couple who witnessed your sordid conditions back then, you effectively scar Jimin's entire floor. 

With great difficulty you both detach yourselves, only to get back to each other like the strongest magnets known to man. It was a tug of war; who was tugging who, where, what, none of it made sense. Jimin tugged you towards his room while you simply tried to pull him closer to yourself. Your lips would have been away a total of two seconds, in the minute-long walk it would have taken to get to his room. 

Frustrated halfway, Jimin pushes you against a wall, one hand still wet from your orgasm coming up to grab your chin as he speaks practically into your mouth.

"What a feisty bitch," he breathes out as you dig in harder, both with your palms in his hair and your crotch on his leg, "Let me get you to the fucking room."

"I don't know, you've awoken something in me," you snap back as you attack his blemished neck, "I don't mind the corridor as long as you put on a good show." 

"Oh, you can count on me for that, but-" he grabs your wandering hands, crosses them behind your waist to hold you in place, only to have you wrap your leg around him and pull him closer. 

Undeterred, he twirls you around, and you are shoved into the wall chest-first and he presses into your ass. Through his taut pants, you can feel his cock again, and the pressure of your cheeks makes him moan, and you hiss on feeling his unstinting thickness, the anticipation of feeling it stretch your walls making you salivate.

A rough smack echoes in the empty aisles, and a second later you feel it sting on your ass. Bringing his hand back to your chin, he turns your face to the left, planting your cheek against the wall, only to get greater access to your shoulder, so he can-

"Fuck! Dude!"

It's your voice, trying to be cross with him for biting deep into your shoulder, but even he can see through your barely-there ruse, tonguing over his very prominent teeth marks that have you rutting against the wall. Just any friction at this point will get you off, and now you're not beneath grinding the whole wall just for a hint of release. Remember that woman with dignity? A figment of your imagination. She was never there.

"As I was saying," Jimin starts again, voice perfectly steady for how hard his cock is, "I'd like to fuck you into my bed if that's okay with you."

Filthy courteous. A gentlemanly freak. An oxymoron of the highest order, and you don't know who to write a check to for this blessing. 

"Fine.”

“Yeah, I better take matters in my own hands,” and he does what you had anticipated, but not quite - you were expecting a bridal lift, his hands perched under your back and your knees, but he does you one better. You are now flung over, waist digging into his shoulders as his arm rests just below your dress hem. That reminds you - your dress isn’t even long enough to possibly manage this position without flashing every occupant who traverses this hall. “Talented hands, aren’t they?”

Dignity be damned. 

“Oh my God, put me down!” you yell in protest, ignoring the heat rising to your cheeks at this ungainly position.

Mostly, because his wandering palms still haven’t had their fill. One such sneaker slipped under the fabric to give your cheek a tight squeeze, and you squeak at the unanticipated intrusion. “What part of this is any better?” You huff as he hikes your skirt up, exposing the fleshy mounds, “Someone sees you, and you’re gonna have handcuffs slapped in an instant.”

“Maybe I can borrow them for a specific someone who-” he pauses to smack your right cheek, roughly, the quiet hours of the passage being tainted by your vulgar pursuits, “-can’t keep her hands to herself,” he finishes with another smack on the same cheek, and the sting is brutal, but only goads you further. 

“Jimin, you’re revealing to be nastier than I ever thought.” Your tongue snakes out to lick your lips, which had gotten dry from either all your hydration moving downtown or the lack of kissing in the past, well, forty seconds. 

From your limited vision, you can see the ninety-degree turn Jimin makes, before the shuffling and distinct sound of a door clicking open, before the scene around you changes.

“What gave it away?” Jimin snickers, flinging you over the bed, “Was it the tonguing in the elevator,” he unbuttons his coat and proceeds to take it off, “or was it the fingering out in the open?” He slowly moves to meticulously hang his coat in the closet, a very unnecessary move considering your current disposition. 

“Or maybe, it’s all the things I’ve yet to do to you,” he quietly ends.

You raise yourself, balancing on your elbows as you watch him regard you, eyes tantalizing every hair on your neck as his tongue juts out to trace his upper lip, slowly. Your own eyes follow his tongue with a dizzying fixation, that beguiling muscle that shows no strain in its movement after the carnage it released onto you. It’s so alive, you can almost feel it against your cunt as they draw you into flashbacks of it snacking on your cum, muttering bawdy words of affection that would make inventors of the language shy away in shame.

The silence is too much, too arousing yet nowhere near culmination. You break it, sighing, “You’ve got to be hurting too,” as you bring your gaze to his hardness, staunch and stiff against his pants.

“I don’t know,” Jimin takes his first step towards you, “I’m a man of taste, and the night is young,” he finishes, standing at the edge of the bed, his cocky demeanor commanding you to give in, letting time tick by, because he just knows. He knows you can and will pounce.

“Well, you might be a man of taste,” you get on your knees on the bed, and catch his tie to tug him back for the umpteenth time tonight, but this time making the right decision to take a step further and remove it, ready to fling it away from sight - but he grabs it, wrapping it around your marred neck, knotting it a little too tight - you choke only slightly, but your raspy words come out undeterred, “but I’m not a woman of patience.”

“Oh, I could tell when you were ready to climb me like a tree in the corridor,” he shakes the tie knot, having you sway along, until he pushes you back on the bed. 

Crawling over and hovering above your body, his knees straddle yours, until he moves his right knee between your legs to slowly push your dress up, slithering upward until the joint makes contact with your center, still dripping from your earlier climax. You shamelessly gyrate, not bothered that his dress pants now need some hushed laundry, as he undoes his cuffs while not letting his gaze move from you even for the briefest second. 

The buttons on his shirt had been irking you all night, irking you enough to halt your grinding to slide yourself up and start undressing him in earnest. Jimin halts to simply stare at you, your fingertips laced in need as every button glides out and gives up on its assignment. Once you pull out his shirt and undo the last one, you look up and meet his gaze, letting your fingers graze the lone strip of exposed skin as your hand moves from his hip to his chest, and you swear you feel his skin quake under your touch. 

 The atmosphere between you two is electric, your line of sight could crackle under the sheer intensity - but before the air bursts into flames, you slide both your hands along his chest and under the fabric, shucking it off of his exquisite frame, and boy. His limber body, the lines of defining muscles canvassing his torso is terrorizing your pussy, and your digits flutter back to run their tips over your new finding - in thin, spindly letters a ‘NEVERMIND’ bedecked his pale skin. He watches you with a keen eye, and you can hear nothing but the stilled sound of each other’s breaths. 

“Does this come with a story?” You jest, but rush to add, “I mean, you don’t have to tell me - if it’s personal or -”

Jimin’s grin interrupts your sentence, as he wraps around you with his arms in an effort to pull you closer - a stark contrast to the man a few minutes ago fully content in using his tie on you like a personalized leash. 

“You’re cute,” he coos, “and no, no story. Just a reminder to not mind the worthless aspects of life.”

“Feels like there’s a lot of subtext to that.”

“Maybe. For now,” he grabs your wrist, hand dangerously close to his nipple, “it’s not a rule you need to mind.”

“Oh,” you smile, fully catching his drift but walking into that trap anyway, “what would you like me to mind?”

Your hand is pulled downward, until it settles on the generous mound that peeks under his pants - and when you clamp down on the tip over the cloth, he breathes a soft “This, please.”

“Who would have known,” you chuckle, the poise in your tone not reaching your hands as they work on ridding him of his pants, “you know how to ask for things, instead of pushing me around like a ragdoll,” and instead you push him down, landing him onto the plethora of pillows that decorate this plush bed. When you finally pull his pants down, you’re caught tongue-tied, and you might as well be fully tied, because you stop in your track when you witness what you’ve uncovered.

“Fuck.”

There’s not a part of his body that doesn’t flow into the other one like butter, but his thighs - his thighs - the angel creating Jimin sure broke a few laws, and is well on their way to hell, because those thighs did not get made in anything remotely holy. There are rocks on planet earth that are probably softer than his thighs, now flexed under your scrutiny - probably only to be beaten by his rock-hard dick.

“I might be wrong, but someone complained that the pace was too slow,” he grunts, a dangerous smirk on his perfect lips.

Wading through intense complaints from that one oversexed side of your brain, you detach your eyes from his thighs to drag it up to his face, which is now placed on his weaved fingers, regarding you with a cocky smile, the effect he has on you clear as day. You shake your head with a smile - he’s got you stupid before his dick can. 

“It’s only fair,” you call out but hasten yourself, finally ridding him of his pants and boxers - and when his dick bounces out, you feel a jolt hit your cunt like lightning, and pull a short breath when it slaps against his abs - a failed attempt to complete your moot sentence and yet no voice leaves your throat. All you know is that you’re ready to face Armageddon just to catch that dick between your legs.

“Cock got your tongue?” you hear the cheeky man respond to your drooling. 

You don’t answer, choosing to bend down sultrily, landing a sweet, innocent kiss onto the leaking head, pulling away to see the bare minimum strings of precum stretch, trying to pull your lips back onto his dick before snapping. 

“Oh, fuck, you…” Jimin speaks to nothing, voice far too strained for it to be a real threat. 

“Fuck me? Soon, baby.”

He laughs in anguish as your tongue continues to torment his volcanic dick - kitten licks barely covering the head - every brief contact you make, you can feel his thighs clench, hardening in anticipation of anything more than what you’re offering. Finally, you flatten your tongue and roll it around, and for the first time tonight, a hiss followed by a moan emanates from the man who had been tormenting you so far. 

Just when you’re getting bold, a hand digs into your hair, clawing at your scalp, and the pain involuntarily throws your mouth open - an opportunity Jimin grabs with his dick, pushing into you till you’re sufficiently stuffed. 

“Ah, that’s perfect. Is this what you wanted?” He shakes the fist of hair as his cock shifts around in your mouth, “To test me till I snap? To make me treat you like the ragdoll that you are?”

Even with your mouth full, you try to smirk at him - this is not a tactic you should employ with him, but when have you ever learned your lesson? Your willingness to play his game has Jimin in bliss, and you feel it when his dick twitches under the attention of your tongue. He stays there for a while, enjoying the warmth of your mouth.

“Look at that, the peace in the air when you’re not off being a mouthy slut,” he thrusts in harder, never letting the hold on your hair dwindle, “Happy? Is the whore in you satisfied? I bet not.” A harder thrust, your throat finally voicing its limits in a feeble groan, but Jimin pays heed to none, “Bet you don’t know what life is like without a cock in hand and another in your mouth.”

You mewl at his words, the obscenities only sending harder pulses to your cunt. Jimin lets go of your hair for a fleeting moment, allowing you to move if you need to - you do, but the prospect of making him come overrides any need for relief, and you stay put where he left you, dick reaching an ungodly point in your throat.

“Yeah,” he grins, a snarky smile as he continues plunging into your mouth in short, rough motions, “fucking thought so. Gonna use your throat so well, I don’t want you talking for days. A toy like you doesn’t need to run their mouth as you do - suck you fucking whore, what are you waiting for?”

You whimper, for the only reason that his girth doesn’t give you much space to suck on. Still, you hollow your cheeks out as far as you can, bobbing your head in whatever space your throat provides without alerting your gag reflex, and you hear Jimin sigh in return. The ringing pain in your jaw is making its presence known more and more with every passing second, but you refuse to give in with every breath that’s left in you. 

He starts fucking your mouth in earnest, every thrust accompanied by a delectable groan on his part, and he controls the pace while you’re just left to take his assault. Rolling your eyes up, you let yourself enjoy the scene unfolding in front of you, his clenched jaw, blissed-out face, neck scattered in your earlier attacks - your vagina feels incredibly empty, and after some pumps, you tap his thigh (are they made of metal?!) to ask, plead, beg to cut to the chase. 

He empties your mouth, face slightly contorted in worry, but you assuage him quickly, “You know,” your voice is barely yours anymore, sounding hoarse and scratchy, and it catches you by surprise as you bring your hand to wrap your neck with a surprised ‘o’ on your lips. Jimin laughs out loud - stop shifting personas so fast! - as you continue, “As I was saying, my pussy is wetter than my mouth,” you cock your head to the side, “if you’d like to try?”

“Oh,” his eyes turn dark, more demon than human, as an idea forms in his head and he comes on to his knees, “I can fix that.”

His hand in your hair dislodges itself, bringing itself down to the tie you don, wrapping it around his fist and tugging you closer - the tightening grip forces you to open your mouth, breathing heavily. At this diminished distance, you can see the telltale signs of his advancing orgasm, beads of sweat lining his multicolored hairline, lips bitten from his teeth digging to halt the high from taking over (although, you have to take half the blame there) - but before you can look into it further, he makes his move.

Two fat globs of spit, released with vigor, land plumb on your eager tongue, and you can taste him again, taste his sweetness with a hint of your own, and you want to savor the taste - but you wait for his order.

“Now that’s perfect, isn’t it?” He gives you a snarky grin before pushing you down, impaling your mouth with his dick again, this time his own saliva coating his length and he pushes in again. Everything he did, everything he does, only brings your attention to your empty pussy, and his honeyed voice rumbling at the feeling of your mouth only makes the emptiness worse. In the inconvenient position, you shuffle your hands forth to cup his balls - they feel tight and ready to release into you, and you give them light, punishing squeezes to make them do exactly that.

But the taste of his cum never comes, because in one swooping motion, he frees himself of your mouth’s hold and - surprisingly - moves off the bed.

“Hey, wha-oh!”

For a flash second, you thought he wasn’t content with edging you alone, extending his edging kink onto himself, he roughly tugs you to the end of the bed, bringing you to stand.

“I’m going to nail you into this fucking bed,” he grits out, before turning you around and crudely shoving your face into the bedding, “and your job is to shut up and take it. Got it?”

Holy fuck. Have you ever been this turned on, enough to paralyze your tongue from forming any word? 

“I said,” his fingers find their familiar spot in your hair as he pulls you up, biting words unleashing into your ear, “Got it? Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Yesyesyesye-” You unleash an outpour of the one word that’s running through your mind, all the way up until you are unceremoniously stuffed into the bed again, and you wait, with bated breaths - the familiar rustle of a condom wrapper in the background - but instead of his thick length, you find his fingers again, and you groan for some respite. 

Jimin laughs at your neediness. “Just checking if you were wet enough,” he says, “but I don’t know why there was any doubt.”

“You better hurry up before I suck it all back in,” you attempt a feeble threat.

The head of his cock finally pokes at your entrance, and you are already wailing, fingers bunching up the bedding as he pushes in further. “Haven’t you-shi-” Jimin stutters, “-haven’t you had enough sucking?”

You don’t even try a glib response - it would never come, because he bottoms out, and your walls are stretching to accommodate his dick, pressing all the right points to send your head into a whole new dimension, where pleasure is the only emotion you feel. His cock twitches inside, and you pull yourself out of your palace of desire to whisper at him to move. 

He makes no move, and you’re not sure what he’s waiting for - you go to repeat yourself louder, just to be su-

Smack!

The unexpected lash on your left cheek jerks you, shifting his dick in you and making you clench further. You can hear the move affect him as he hisses and pushes you flush against the bed.

“Wow,” you’re panting, out of breath before you even start, “even at this point, you find a way to drag this out.”

“Trust me, if you had my view right now,” Smack! Another slap hits you, and you clench harder, this time bringing a full-blown groan from Jimin as he holds onto your hip to steady himself, “even you’d take your own, sweet time.”

Every slap henceforth only hurls you further towards your orgasm, words no longer working for you so you resort to communicating only through wails and whines, hoping he would decipher your pleas.

When he finally moves again, you all but scream Hallelujah to the angels puppeteering him from the heavens, and you take note of your current situation - you’re perilously close to your orgasm. This has been record-timing, from penetration to orgasming, and you rush to pay attention to the nub thrumming since this whole ordeal began. Sliding your hand under the frame of your body, and you-

“Ah, tsk, that’s not happening.”

Somehow Jimin - who was lost in the dreamland of your pussy, you know, you checked - caught your move, and now has your arm twisted behind as you wail and unfruitfully search for the orgasm that is almost yours. The one thing that shuts you up is his double-handed spank, each side facing the equal brunt of your actions, as Jimin hisses and slows his pace.

“Shut the fuck up,” his hands come down and dig into your supple cheeks, squeezing them and pulling them apart. “Your body is mine to use. So pipe the fuck down,” he growls, before setting his eyes on your newly exposed hole.

“You can tell me when to-fuck-when to stop,” he breathlessly utters, “but other than that, just lay back and take it like a good little plaything.” You cry a loud yes to his patronizing words - at this point, he could very well ask you for a billion-dollar check and you’d happily bid farewell to all your possessions. 

He lands a spitwad on your ringed hole, the cool wetness making it pulsate while your clit palpitates in anticipation and your hold on his dick tightening. His thumb traces a circle before shallowly digging inside.

“Jimin, oh God, more, more-” you don’t know what you’re chanting for, the buzz getting you drunk on his actions and making it harder and harder to keep your orgasm at bay. 

A dark, sinister snigger lined with need leaves Jimin’s short-winded voice. “So you’re an anal whore too,” he lightly moves his thumb in the confines, your responding moan triggering more chuckles, “no one is surprised.”

“F-fu-oh God I-” you can’t even gather the wits to give him a fitting reply, especially because his dick is thrusting into you in new directions.

“You’ll let a stranger just about fuck you anywhere,” he adds to the growing pile of awards he’s presenting to you, grinning ear to ear at your lack of diction, “tell me, Y/N, tell me you’re a needy, insatiable whore. Scream it, let the neighbors hear you.” A particularly deep thrust hits you hard, at the right spot, and you push yourself back on his dick, angling yourself right, “fuckin’ do it, Y/N, or else I’ll finish and leave you.”

You shriek at the thought of it, the coil in your belly taut and threatening to snap, your brain rushes to stitch the right words and before you know it, you’re spewing them at him. “Oh-oh yes, yes, yes, I’m a desperate whore, I need to be filled every day, and every night, can’t leave my - oh fucking hell, right there - my pussy empty, shit, and why should I? When dick like yours exists?!”

His thumb twists inside, breaching in enough to be able to curl a joint, and you take that as an acceptance. Your whole body thrums to the beat of his thrust, tips of your toes curling inward, attempting to halt your libido from seeping out of you, and you’re certain the establishment is never letting you set foot inside ever again after the fest you carried tonight.

“Gah, your pussy is just-so tight, I want to you fuck you open over, and over, and over again,” Jimin’s hips pump into you with ceaseless vigor, chasing his own high while tending to both your holes. “I’m going to leave you dripping for days.”

“Oh-oh-Jimin! I’m goi-ugh-fuck, no one will fuck me this goo-ah!”

Even with your spastic and incomplete verbiage, the content reaches him, and a passing cloud of clemency (and his swiftly approaching peak) brings him to slip two fingers of his unoccupied hand down. But jerk that he is, they do nothing except tap your clit, lightly, softly, with no destination in sight.

You continue to egg him on, “Gonna feel your dick in me for day-ohhh fucking hell-days to come, gonna feel you in me! Please, please let me come, I can’t-I-”

“Just a little more baby,” Jimin coos, a hitch in his throat hinting you that he too is at the end of his run, “Tell me more,” he hisses as his digits land a hard thwack right on your clit.

“Oh right there, right there-Jimin please please I need to come so bad, I’m gonna think of this night forever,” you’re crying at this point, the pressure of holding back swarming tears in your eyes, tongue letting just about anything out. “Any day I have bad sex I’m gonna think of you, any day I have good sex I’ll think of you, cuz no way in hell am I getting dicked down this good-shit I’m gonna-” you pause for a breather, “Jimin, please let me come!!”

He finally lays a soft kiss on your back, whispering “Go on, cream my cock like you’ve been longing to do” before the two digits press firmly onto your clit and draw figures over it - what figures, you can’t tell, because your orgasm washes over you with the force of all the mighty waterfalls all over the world, combined. Both the walls of your pussy and you are spasming, the pinnacle of your orgasm coursing through your body, trying to find an outlet to the boundless energy it carries. It finally leaves through your mouth, a loud, elongated moan marking the end of the fuck of a lifetime.

Jimin grunts at the way your pussy clamps over his cock, and in two more pumps he’s emptying himself into the rubber, utter hushed cusses until he comes down from his climax. His fatigued build falls onto your back, a soft hand wrapping around your waist as you both catch your escaping breaths.

“I thought I was gonna die over there,” you finally snort, as much as your breath allows you to, “do you keep all your women waiting like that?”

He just laughs, pulling his softening member out and discarding the condom, “I’m not sure what you mean. All I remember is you telling me I dicked you down goo-ow!” He laughs as you slap his chest in jest. 

Jimin pulls you to the pillows and kisses you, deep and sensual, lips telling you he hasn’t had his fill, but body limp and heated and begging for a break. As you attempt to adjust your dress, he halts you by pinning your hands to his chest, and you simply give in to his wordless demand.

With your head laid on his shoulder, air filled with a relaxing silence, you let your pointer finger drag along his chest, tracing the prominent tattoo, catching his flinch as you linger over his nipple. 

“You know, I too have a tattoo, a pity you couldn’t catch it.”

“Oh?” Jimin cocks his head back to meet your gaze, the tiredness evaporating in an instant to give way to renewed vigor. Your outfit is a sight to behold, crumpled dress bunched above your hips, the straps of your dress messy and astray, falling off your shoulders, and his lone tie still surviving the ordeal across your neck. Through the thin fabric, he can see what he actually didn’t catch - your soft breasts devoid of his branding, and if he looks carefully, he can spot your juicy nipples pebbled under the jeweled cloth. Pulling the tie to have you fall back into him, he hums softly, palm coming forth to grab the shunned mounds of flesh. 

“Where might that be?” he softly asks, inching closer and closer to your cleavage.

You shrug playfully, his ministrations already taking over your mind. Slipping one strap off your shoulder, you murmur, “Why don’t you find out?”

Within a blink, you’re trapped, caged underneath his whole body. He bends low, his unicorn strands tickling your cheek as he licks a soft stripe against the shell of your ear, before whispering, “Oh, you bet I will.”

Thank you for making it to the end! For more of my writing, find my masterlist here. As always, thoughts and feedbacks are greatly appreciated!

#networkbangtan #thebtswritersclub #jimin smut #park jimin smut #jimin fanfiction #jimin fanfic #dom!jimin #dom jimin #jimin x reader #park jimin fanfiction #park jimin fanfic #pjm smut #park jimin x reader #pjm fanfic #bts fanfic #bts smut #dom!jm #bangtansorciere #bangtanuniversity #bangtaninn #btsgoldnet #btswritingcafe #bts fanfiction

[yandere-sins]

Say My Name

Random mid-day Asmodeus smut, you’re welcome. Enjoy! ♥

Characters: Asmodeus X Fem!Body Reader Rating: Explicit/Grapefruit Warnings: Yandere, Non-Con, Aphrodisiacum, Body Fluids, Magically growing dick, Possessiveness, Somnophilia

The feeling of the pulsating shaft inside of you, growing and expanding your pussy up to its full capacity, was one that you found hard to describe even after experiencing it so much. Painful? Exhilarating? Satisfying? Either and all would have fit, and they all popped into your mind as you experienced them. Magic tingled at your inner walls while Asmo's hands roamed your thighs, lovingly rubbing the tension out of them.

Of all the skills you would have expected from the Avatar of Lust, somehow it had never crossed your mind that he could shape himself exactly to his partner, despite already having a quite formidable cock. At least, until you experienced it for yourself the first time, and the twenty other times afterwards.

It made you feel restless and appalled, but at the same time, you were a groaning, hot-headed mess, trying to keep any dignity by not drooling onto Asmodeus. He always kept his face a neutral, excited smile. But with those lust-filled, devouring eyes of his, he wasn't fooling anyone, and especially not you, his very own object of desire. 

"Magnificent, isn't it?" he asked, but it didn't sound like a question, rather a fact. A tremble ran through you hearing his voice, his body shifting as he talked, that big thing inside of you twitching. G, A-- Whichever spot he was hitting, it was the right one, your teeth clenching together before you pressed out an exasperated groan. 

Everything inside you screamed not to come, not giving him the satisfaction of bringing you pleasure. However, at the same time, you felt your feet curl, tingling all over your sides and nether regions, your back arching promising and your lips flinching into a smile. "It's alright, Baby," he assured you. Those were the last kind of words you wanted to hear. 

Sensing your reluctance, Asmo's hands dug into your hips, perfectly located above his cock, and you felt the urging of his fingertips to lift yourself from straddling him. With a strained gurgle, the monstrously formed cock dragged out of you, unbothered by how hard you were clenching to keep yourself from losing your mind. But it was in vain, more arousal tensing your muscles while Asmodeus sighed blissfully.

Only for him to let go of you, the few lost inches finding themselves promptly filled in as your hips met his again.

The equivalent of a high-pitched mewl escaped your lips; everything else got held back by the lightning-like tension erupting throughout your body. The sudden kiss to your cervix was enough to tip the glass over, your body having endured so much up to this point, from foreplay to overstimulation. This orgasm wouldn't have been something you could have prevented, and even if you could scream for hours to no end about how little you wanted it, it was undeniable how much it shook you to the core. 

"Pretty ~" Asmodeus chuckled, using his whole left palm to drive from the spot your bodies met up and between your breasts. You couldn't have comprehended the movement he did beneath you, sitting up while his hand found its way to your throat, leaving a trail of kissed above your stomach, if not for his member moving accordingly inside you.

Only when his fingers clenched down around your skin, air supply halting as he pulled your body forward again, you regained your senses. You were met with Asmo's face rubbing up to yours, tonguing lapping out to taste your vibrating lips. There wasn't much left but to open up if he wanted that, hoping some air to come through since even your nose couldn't breathe in as much as you needed, nothingness filling your lungs. But he seemed uninterested in kissing, instead licking up the wet trails of your tears, catching one or two in the progress.

"Do you see it now? My love? Do you think anyone could love you this way? When we're together, everything is wonderful."

Finally, he let go of your throat, catching your open mouth with his lips as you snapped for air, filling it with the honey-sweet aphrodisiac of his magic enmeshed saliva as he explored it thoroughly. You hated it so, so much. How he used aphrodisiacs to completely frost your mind until there was nothing left but to experience pleasure. The way Asmo's solution to every one of your complaints was to drug you up to explain his love for you with his body. How he made you live off this taste for days if he felt like keeping his sweet darling like a pet sex-doll for a while to escape his responsibilities. 

And you swore by God you hated the fuckable gritty texture of his long, thick cock that you started to gyrated against the most.

"Asmo… Asmodeus!" you greedily called out in between kisses, pressing yourself the best you could against him. Chuckling, he brought his hands behind you, tugging the handcuffs on your wrists downwards so you'd rub against him even more. "That's it," he mumbled, releasing you from the kiss to watch you follow him for more. "I know you'd understand it."

Despite your desperate mewls for more, he didn't return to warm you with his kiss or body. Instead, he laid down again, propped on pillows and blankets. Behind you, you felt his legs pull up, and knowing what he was about to do, you scampered to get on your own knees, lifting yourself ever so slightly. "I love you, [Name]," he confessed as he pumped himself into you for the first time, a shaky, happy whimper escaping your lips. 

"I love you more than anyone, and you're all mine as well. You're never going to leave me, right?"

His pumps continued, fingernails digging into your thighs, only causing you to smile joyfully at the pleasurable pain they were causing. "Asmo ~!" you groaned for him, the only need in your mind being the need for more and more of him and his pleasure. "That's right, say my name, [Name]!" he demanded in exchange, his pace quickening and gaining loud encouragement from you. 

You kept his name coming, just as he wanted from you, it being a small payment for experiencing seemingly bottomless pleasure everywhere. Even spots he wasn't reaching and touching tingled and got heated, no coherent thought crossing your mind that was soft as jelly. All you could think was Asmodeus, cock, Asmodeus, cumming, Asmodeus, cumming, cumming--

"I-I--" you announced, despite him having to feel it way before you could even finish. Tightening around him, you didn't expect Asmo to pull out up to his tip before completely filling you out in one push, your cervix budging as you welcomed him and your second orgasm to shake through you. 

It was way too much to take for your mind that was already burnt out from the aphrodisiac. You saw the tapestry over his bed, smelled the rose-scented room for one more time before everything shut down to black. One last shock rippled through you as you collapsed to the side, your pussy having to make way for his cock to pull out with a loud, wet sound as Asmodeus' warm, excited laugh filled the room. 

You weren't sure how long your orgasm had knocked you out for or what all happened in this time. Perhaps it had just been a few seconds, or maybe an hour, no one could tell in this room where time never seemed to pass for you anymore. All you could concentrate on as you regained conscience was the feeling of your spread legs being held out of the way while your pussy was harshly, abusively penetrated by a cock too big to fit, yet perfectly shaped and rounded to your inside. 

There were more fluids now, helping Asmo easily slip in and out of you and dripping down from your thighs and pussy. Some were left on your mouth, while others were spread over your naked chest and stomach, cooling your irritated and heated body. You could assume what it was, but at the same time, you didn't put it past Asmo to have used his tongue on you more either. 

Your arms still uncomfortably bound back by the cuffs, you let out a groan, feeling some of the soreness of your body and especially the entrance to your pussy again. Yet, at least the pain subsided, even if you weren't sure if you could separate it from pleasure anymore.

"[Name]!" he called out, excited, as he noticed you were awake again. "I love you! I love you so much, you're the-- ngh--"

He didn't get to finish as his cock swelled noticeably inside of you, your pussy welcoming the excessive, splurting hot semen he pumped into you, barely stopping his hips to fill you up. A singular sigh followed by the dropping of the tension of his orgasm escaped him before Asmo picked your legs up again, every pull and push now followed by the squirting of the white mass while he kept fucking you senselessly. It made you wonder if he too was drunk on his own aphrodisiac for him to be so quick to recover. Or perhaps, he was simply drunk on you, unable to get enough of you and your body.

Again, you felt the clenching around his cock, wondering how long it truly had been since you last - knowingly or unknowingly - orgasmed. "I love you, [Name]," he kept muttering, staring down at you from his elevated position. The way to describe his gaze on you was lust and love filtered by rose-colored glasses to hide the dark eyes of desire. However, he managed to do it, Asmo's expression of love moved you, making you wonder how messed up your own face was at the moment. 

"[Name], [Name], [Name]...:" he kept stuttering, tongue licking over his lips before he bit down in pleasure.

Asmodeus, Asmodeus, Asmodeus. 

It was the only thing you could think about.

"Say it again," he desired, and you were about to fulfill his request as your orgasms united.

#Asmodeus #asmodeus obey me #asmo #yandere asmodeus #yandere!asmodeus #obey me #obey me! #obey me! one master to rule them all #obey me shall we date #yandere obey me #yandere obey me! #yandere!obey me #yandere!obey me! #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW #lemon #grapefruit

[insomnishnik]

pairing : obsessive! dom eren x god complex reader *wink* *wonk*

rating : smut, 18+, fluff, crack (?)

wc : 53k

cw : degradation, choking, semi public sex, art student! eren, cockwarming, pussy spanking, mention of bruises and injuries, breeding kink ish, obsessive behavior, stalking, borderline yandere 😁 also pliz I'm new so if this bad lemme know

summary : at the very end of graduation, it's time to say goodbye, college is over, now off to the real world. But before the farewell, you as the student president arrange the one last time after party as a sweet goodbye message, little do you know eren have other plan.

“DO WE HAVE TO?” you murmured as Hitch pushed your back while both of stepping inside of a coffee shop. Fragrance of coffee bean, vanilla air freshener wafted to your nose, the comforting wooden minimalist arabica design greeted your eyes for its pleasing aesthetic scenery.

"Yes, we have to i mean how bad could it be?" she grinned, pulling your arm to her clutches while both of you scoured inside, "besides, the past must stay as the past, it was just a silly president election it's not like he would hold grudges against you for getting elected," she continued, referring to the big college event far ago before the senior year. 

That one time when you and Eren Jaeger applied to be the student council president, and like how history spoke, the winner rejoiced, and nobody really care about what happens next to the loser. It was a though fight, you were quite determined to take that core position with your persona, you believed that you could bring greater goods for the community, and you DID do good, but Eren fought back passionately, and you remembered you could see fire in his eyes during his speech at the debate election, he may not smart but he's clever, maybe a little aggressive but hell does he moved so many people's heart, you remembered when he was standing tall and brave on that podium while his sea green eyes glued the room together, the intimacy that is fiery and optimistic, but as the whole world know destiny said otherwise, without your own anticipation 

you won. 

And since then your reign begun. You rule well, you made plenty achievements as student president and you never been so proud of yourself, since then you never lose your dedication for your people, and the feel of being a victor, and oh how you loved the feel of being powerful. 

You and Hitch walked upstairs to the second loft of the coffee shop after you both ordered the drinks you wanted, "I dunno Hitch, i don't think that this is a good idea," you mumbled to the girl next to you, while you scratching the back of your ear, "when Armin said not to mess with Eren i think he meant it."

Sure you were delighted with your victory, but you still couldn't help yourself to feel bad for Eren, there's this strange tingle of guilt vine your stomach when you, the possessor approached your ex rival far a month ago, he gave you this bitter dirty look as you waved him a polite good morning, then he stormed off without a single word, you felt like he was prestige to look into your eyes since then. 

"And when i said he was a wuss, and a man child for going all off emo after that election i also meant it," Hitch rolled her eyes, she pat your back as a reassurance before you two finally found the person you've been looking for, almost unrecognizable from the last time you guys bumped to each other, for a moment your eyes widened to the now Eren Jaeger.

 There he was sitting all pretty at the smoking area, his hair was pulled onto a messy bun with a few loose strands on his nape, he was far more built than the boy you used to know, his bushy eyebrows looking furrowed to a sketchbook, the charcoal pencil he's holding dances on top of it. He was styled in a thin knitted black long sleeve top that hugged his muscular body tightly, army green cargo pants, and combat boots — you know, those kind of boots you wear to a rock concert just to kick someone — his rolled sleeves, revealing his veiny arms that covered with tattoos. His long legs is stretched to the chair next to him while he is leaning against the wall. 

Hitch glanced at you, she cackled noticing you googling at Eren, she pulled you by your wrist approaching the brunet, "you'll be fine," she snickered, while you could only let out a soft sigh, here goes nothing. 

Hitch signal her presence to Eren with a light cough, a small thud hit the surface of his sketchbook after he dropped his pencil. His gaze shifts to both of you who were standing by his side, he raised his left brow when his eyes met yours, you stared back at Eren and he outstared you blankly, "Jaeger," you hesitated. 

About time you finally came to me.

"Y/N," he replied, calling you by your first name. His expression never change, they're rather cold, unimpressed, he studied both of you, then back to you, he lift his chin up as he locked his eyes on you, "you brought a friend." Intruder, he finally said after a brief silence, Eren closed his sketchbook and then cracked his knuckles, Hitch pulled you, taking a seat in front of Eren. 

"Now let's skip the chit chat, because by the way Eren, you smells musty," Hitch waved her hand in front of her face, she's not wrong though, he smells like tobacco and axe body spray. Furthermore when Hitch explained the reasons of hers and yours arrival to Eren, his gaze never really left you, sometimes he would spare Hitch small glances and nods as confirmation of himself still listening, but his attention was on you. 

And you willingly stares back, you still couldn't read his expression, they're as calm as the morning blue sky, they're just so empty it sucks you in, maybe it's the blunt hatred and envy from him for your presidential position, or maybe it was something else, you even almost think that you two are basically eye fucking each other. 

You extended him the proposal and the selected material details to him, it's almost graduation, and you're running out of time to find someone who could make an exclusive design for the jackets you are planning to make as a gift for the after party event. The other councilor members and you also haven't decide the theme yet, it has to be perfect. Your last hope is Eren, the fine arts student all the girls in school droll over, even though his charisma was slightly dimmed after his loss at the election, he still got his charm, and you really prayed to Goddess Fortuna because you don't want to risk looking for someone else to customize this specific special item and just to get disappoint by the erratic result, at least when Eren agree to take the work, someone could watch over.

"No fucking way," Eren let out a smug chortled, "the president needs my help," he added in a sneering tone. Cute. 

"So you agree or not Eren," you try to suppress your nerve, and you really try not to punch his cocky face, the way he throw his head back a little so he gave you this kind of kubrick stare, gazing into your soul as if he wants to eat you alive, and just like they said, if looks could kill, you're probably be ripped apart by now. 

"What if i say no?" he continued, tapping his boot's toe on the wooden floor. 

"You'll waste your talent," you gift a thin smile that hides a very big urge to stab him repeatedly. 

Eren chuckled, he looked away towards the window before he lean forward to you, "What happen to the other art students, L/N? Did they finally acknowledge your overly perfectionist bossy self or what?" 

"And what about it?" you argued, leaning to his face, he wanted to humiliate you, he wanted you to get on your knees and beg, but you still have your dignity. 

"Uh, what is this," Hitch hesitated, "i am highly uncomfortable with the atmosphere we created in this room," what's with the eye fucking? Hitch thought, she felt like she's interrupting a really heated make out session but instead of kissing it was exchanging pure hatred, Hitch nudged you by your elbow, giving you a look. 

You gritted your teeth and pursed your lips together, leaning closer to Eren's face, "Alright, if this is about that stupid president election we had together grow up Eren! The world doesn't evolve in your stupid drama queen head, so please since i'm asking you nicely before i could fu-" You stopped your bust as a waitress came over with the drinks you ordered earlier, you glared angrily at Eren as you caught a tug of amused smirk at the corner of his lips, it was the fact that you desperately needs his help but still play all bitchy, he found it funny. 

Sure you have your dignity, and he is willing to destroy it just because he can.

After the waitress left, you tasted your fresh latte angrily, making Eren chuckled under his husky breath, while on the other side Hitch is silently witnessing the tense between you two. 

"Fine," Eren broke the silence after a few minutes since the waitress left, "i'll take the work." he sat up, you nodded and watched as that key necklace of his dangling out from his collar, and when your eyes laid on the toned chest that peaking under his shirt, you gulped your saliva and quickly looked away, "good, thank you for your understanding."

You clasps your hands together and you could hear Hitch's faint sigh of relief, "great so now i think we have our deal, you know Professor Levi's tea shop right? tomorrow we're doing a gathering, be there before 8, and if-" 

who says that i'm finished doll? Eren tug another smirk, "but with some condition."

⊱✿⊰

"For real? No party organizer available until next January?" you groaned in frustration, frantically flipping through pages of your journal, Hitch and Armin walks by your side to the long table area.

Chaos. 

Chaos everywhere, you feel like your head is going to explode, your blood boils, and there's this uncomfortable anxiety under your skin, crippling under you and devouring you slowly. You've been overworked yourself the entire night after your meeting with Eren, you were brainstorming for your graduation speech, activity recap, and of course other ornaments for the very last project you're having in your senior year, you cried for three hours while listening to montgomery ricky then cried again over the document you accidentally deleted. 

You're exhausted.

Mentally and physically, you woke up with puffy eyes and wrecked brain, but you knew that everything must go on, and no, you won't back down, everything has to be perfect, 

It has to be perfect. 

Hitch pouted as she watches you typing on your laptop, she snakes her arms around your waist and leaned her head against your shoulder, watching you making some kind of budget recap, "sweetie you should rest and lay down." She spoke with a soft smile. 

You pursed your lips together before you leaned your head on top of hers, not leaving your eyes from your laptop, "thanks Hitch, but i'm alright, i'll just finish this and i'll take a break for a bit." You just can't really trust anything without yourself being under control or watching over, you're afraid that everything would astray far from your definition of 'perfection,' this empire you've been building, and this is your last legacy the next generation will remember, and you wanted it to be remarkable. 

"No dumbass, the last catering service was too expensive and apparently our university was filled with cheapskates." argued a voice from across the room.

"Well we have no choice???" other voice argued back, "Or we can rely on your very bad cooking skill Kirstein, just pray nobody's gonna die from food poisoning." 

You huffed at the sight of Ymir and Jean who was sitting face to face on the floor, both are on their phone scrolling on google, you looked around and found Sasha, Marco and Connie, chatting across you, and you looked over to the three people next to you, your vice president Hitch, your treasurer Armin, and your secretary Mikasa. You couldn't help yourself but smiling at your team, they works so well. 

Then you frowned as your realized something, "Have Eren-" 

A short blonde girl with a tray of drinks and snacks entered the room, "Y'all snack time!" she called out with a large grin on her face.

Ymir's face lit up as she walked up to her girlfriend, Sasha sprinted towards Historia, going feral over food as usual. 

"Ugh finally," you chuckled to Jean's mumble. Soon, half of the room crowded the blonde girl, reaching for snacks and drinks, your eyes fixated as you slowly notice the presence of the familiar sea green eyes, you watches as Eren strolls inside of the meeting room, he yawned before he took a seat on Hitch's place, your frowned slightly, "excuse you?" 

"Excuse me?" he replied, plastering that damn cocky smile, he looked to you up and down, definitely mocking you under his degrading gaze, dammit y/n did you overworked yourself?

"Well have you look at yourself, President." he snickered, suddenly a sketch design laid in front of you, you shift your eyes to Eren, before you took the papers on your hands. Soft grazes of colored pencil and ink, the art was delicate yet firm, "what is this?" you asked dumbly to the design of two bomber jackets, each of the jackets has their own scrawled side notes of the color details, embroidery, and even fabric material.

"Both jacket will be make from satin, no argument, satin," Eren spoke, he pointed his polished finger nail to the design, "the girls will have the yellow one, the boys will take the red, it'll have our Uni symbol and our number," he explained, "should be ready as soon as possible," Eren watches you closely, waiting for you to say something. Part of him.....just wants you to react, just anything, just any reaction exclusively for him. 

You blinked slowly, wow. Honestly it's beautiful, looks like it was Harajuku style inspired, you can't wait to touch the final craft, you glanced at Eren, "thank you," you spoke finally, "it's really beautiful."

I'm glad you like it. "Of course it's beautiful, i made it," he replied with a smug face, he cracked his knuckles then tapped his fingers to the wooden table, "now now, what do we have here." 

It was part of Eren's condition. One, he wanted to be fully involved in the graduation ceremony prep and the after party. Two, most importantly nobody touch his creation while he have full control of it, you reluctantly gave him the responsiblity to handle the venue decoration and the theme, most of the people in your team weren't really pleased with that decision, but like you all have time to think? But after considering it, you felt like it would be good idea to have extra hands helping. 

Anything,

To reach the absolute perfection.

⊱✿⊰

"I'm so glad, that this is almost over, because i could not bear drinking another monster and espresso or i might get caffeine intoxication," you grinned as you earned chuckles through the dinner table, it was all paid off, and the grand event was right in front of your eyes, you could already imagine yourself standing on that podium, delivering your grand speech, high and god like.

But now, celebration first. 

The admiration looks from your team and the last year student council team — who decided to join for the gig — feeds your ego, there's Zeke, Nicolo, Reiner, Pieck and her girlfriend Yelena, Porco and Bertholdt. Your friends really look up to you, from the day you earned your position, they knew they could count on you. "Thank you, thank you for all of the hard works this season, i would never ask for a better team, you guys are the best that i could ever wished for," you grinned and picked up the can of beer from the table, everybody raises their drinks, and you looked at the edge of the table, where your graduated senior, Zeke Jaeger sitting down, giving you a proud look, he was a student president before you, "this is for everyone, our community has never been this great, because you all dedicated your hearts." As you cheers together, you looked around, something is missing, you can feel it, yet you can't find any solid answer for that feeling. 

It was a simple outdoor Korean barbecue party in your house's backyard, after all done, you wanted nothing but to treat your friends, because that's what they deserved for serving you right. It was returning favor, while waiting for the meat to be cook perfectly by your senior Nicolo, you sat besides Mikasa as you both chats, while Armin was next to her, busy with his phone. In the distance, chaotic guitar strums and jams from drunk Connie and Jean cracking the air together with everyone that hyping them up. You pressed your chin against Mikasa's shoulder while both of you giggling over a twitter thread. 

"Eren said he's coming over," Armin announced to both of you, he looked down to his phone and let out a heavy sigh. 

So that was the missing piece. 

"Why's the sigh?" you asked Armin.

Armin hesitated, he looked around everywhere that isn't you, he rubbed his hand through his undercut, it feels like watching someone having a very conflicted mind war with themself, he then finally impaled you with a mixed expression, "Y/N," he started, "i don't know how to say this but....." He glanced over at Mikasa, and you followed him. 

The dark haired girl rather gave him a surprised expression, a some kind of you did not! look. You exchanged the utterly confusion to both of them, Mikasa nodded slowly, "She needs to know, Armin." 

"I need to know what?" 

"What are you guys talking about?" you turned around and sees Eren standing right in front of you, bruised up and bleeding, his knuckles was fucked in a shade of dark red and purple, strands of hair falling in front of his face, Mikasa quickly stood up, "Eren did you—"

"Yes i did," he shot her a cold glare, you could see from the corner of your eyes that Zeke started to approaching, Eren's eyes then finally found Armin, who's looking scared and nervous more than ever, "tell me, what's the interesting story Armin?" his tone was striking and icy, under his husky voice, you could track hints of slurs because of alcohol. 

Armin went quiet, he gripped his knuckles, what is this? something must happened and you didn't know, and you hated that. You hated when things was out of your reach. "It's okay Eren, you should check your wounds, they look pretty bad," Armin swallowed, his words came out more threatening than he anticipated. 

"No, no, no, i wanted to know what you gonna say to Y/N," Eren moves closer to Armin, "you are not trying to tell her anything bad about me right?" 

They looked like they're ready to throw hands, but Zeke was already slips between them, holding the both boys's chests with his flat palms, "come on now guys, let's not." he hesitated.

"No, let's." Eren insisted, he slapped his brother's hand, you quickly pulled him down by his arm, he flinched when he felt your touch, Eren glance at you, and for a split second his eyes went soft, it was that soft that you felt nothing but pure affection from his sea green eyes, then something took over his body, he suddenly pulled you by your collar, lifting you up, moving your face closer to his.

His eyes were bloodshot, you squeezed his wrists while kicking your feet on the air, "you," he growled, his warm breath smells like alcohol, you blinked slowly, scanning Eren's animalistic glare, but there is no hate in his eyes, you found yourself trying to look for it but there it none, instead there's this raging desire, he looked at you like you were his prey, "Eren-" you choked, for the first time, you feel powerless.

"I hate you," he hissed, but all you could sense was lie, his mortal fingers squeezing you so deadly but you feel the comfort of it, the bizarrely embracing lust, and his existence blurs all the noises around you, just you and Eren Jaeger. "you took everything from you," he continued, "i woke up everyday wishing you dead." 

You knitted your eyebrows, and you feel your godly ichor rushes back through your veins, a disgusted smirk appeared on your face, belittling him for lying, "liar." 

Then huge arms pulled Eren from you, tackling him to the ground, Mikasa caught you before you hit the ground, Hitch stepped in front of you, shielding you from Eren who was struggling under Zeke, "Eren what the hell!" she shouted. Mikasa helped you up and pulled you close to her chest, "Y/N are you okay?" she sounded so scared, questions and assumptions popping in your head about what happens between Mikasa, Armin, and Eren. You looked up, finding Reiner helping Zeke restraining his own brother. You knew a minute ago that guy attacked you, but seeing Eren in that position just feels so wrong, you never thought you'll get drew by a guy like Eren Jaeger, but here you are finding yourself shoving aside your pride while approaching the two blonds. You put your hand on Zeke's shoulder, squeezing them gently, "it's okay," your delicate tone shocks him, "let him go Zeke." 

You could feel everyone giving you a jaw drop, but when all eyes on you, you find yourself only looking at Eren. 

After a tense moment, Zeke and Reiner finally let go of the brunet, you pulled Eren up then you put the tip of your fingers to his chin, examining his wounds, he scoffed and avoided your eyes, dropping his eyes to the ground. "Let's get that clean up," you mumbled and dragged him by his hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. Leaving everyone in a ambiguous silence. 

"Why are they leaving? the wagyu is ready."

You walked upstairs to your room, no words exchange both of you before you finally entered the bathroom with Eren, you let go of his hand, your heartbeat strangely skipping inside your chest, while you were searching for the medicine kit in the cabinet, when you finally turn around, you found Eren already sitting on the toilet seat, you kneeled down in front of him and you opened the medicine kit, you pulled a towel from the drawer and stood up, wetting it in the sink, "what happen?" you finally spoke. 

Eren let out a deep chuckle, he wiped his bloody nose with his thumb then wiped it off on his jeans, gross. "Why do you care," he asserted. 

You rolled your eyes and kneeled back in front of him, with dripping wet cloth on your right hand, "please you stormed on me, lifted me up and looked at me like you wanted fuck me against the table while also wanted to burn me alive at the same time." you gave him a judging look. You took his hands, and then slowly pressed the dampen cloth on his bloody knuckles, he didn't flinch, Eren remained silence while he watches you. You could feel his smirk while you were treating his wounds. "Have i told you how hideous you look tonight?" he asked quietly. 

"No, tell me." 

Eren then moved his left hand away from you, extending them, he caressed his thumb on your cheekbone, made you froze, his hand then traveled to your ear, it tugged your hair behind them, "i cannot." He whispered softly. 

You looked up, and put the now reddish cloth on the floor, you moved closer to the burnet in front of you, you intertwined your fingers with his once again, the tense on his shoulders visibly relax while his pupils widened to the presence of you, "now would you tell me what happen?" your voice sweetened, melodic in his ear, and it seems like he's lured enough by it. 

Eren huffed a chuckle, he looked down to both of your hands, "Had a fight with Pops," he shrugged, "took the anger on the wall." You moved closer to his face, close enough to smell the liquor in his breath. Eren stared at you, he never imagine he would have the blessing to be this close with you, he was always watching you from afar. Those interrogation towards Armin regarding you, questions after questions on your personal life, forcing Armin to dug deeper and helped Eren fulfilling his needs on you, he'd followed you after school, to your favorite coffee shop, your home so he'll know your address, to where ever he could reach you, man... he'll go after you to the edge of the world if that's where you're heading. 

"Do you still hate me?" you asked, and to be honest the question kind of scares you, because after these past few weeks of spending more time with Eren Jaeger, you finally caught in his fire, his flaming intimacy you thought was long gone, and you also surprises yourself for not getting pissed off by the feeling, because it makes you feel vulnerable. 

Eren grazes his thumb on your jaw as if you were made of glass, he kneeled down to the floor with you, so you both could be equal, no high ground. "The truth is my darling, i never was," he confirmed, "after you won that election it was my last straw because from the first time i laid my eyes on you, Love.... You have bewitched me body and soul," he's been watching over you from the distance and you still as pathetic as he could remember, maybe it's the way you stole glances at him, the way you would secretly checking him out but little did you know that he notices everything, he's been reading you like an open book without having to flip through every pages, because you already spread open for him, "you have became the very thing that is out of my reach, Love. And for i have fancy you, and you'll be mine not just in my mind but fully," and he is itching to taste you. His warmth envelopes you to a sense of safety, he trails his hands to your waist, pulling you closer to him, and you melt like a candle on fire. Right above you stand an entity greater than yourself, the essence of mystery that fold itself in front of you, and with the universe speak between you, everything is a clarity. 

And you, you don't get it, you thought it was all envy to the position you have, and for the first time, you crave something other than power, "Did you just quoted Pride and Prejudice for me, Jaeger?" you snakes your arms around his neck while his growing bulge strokes on your clothed cunt, the rough material of his jeans made your arousal grow thicker, "my, my, my i used to think that you were just a pretty face with zero common sense," you teased, nuzzling your nose against him. 

His husky chuckle vibrates against your skin, without warning he pushes you up against the wall and you immediately jumped onto his waist with your legs, you gasped as your back hit the cold surface, Eren kneading your butt cheeks as he was holding you up, his chest pressed on yours, warm breath mixes together, "ouch, did you just call me dumb?" you snickered, Eren tilts his head before he smirked, "maybe we could be equally dumb after i make you babble nonsense with my cock." His mouth devouring yours feverishly. Frantic gestures rid you and him of clothes on your body, while you helped Eren unbuckling his belt, his teeth grazes yours, tongues fighting for dominance with each other, he latched his lips onto yours, hungry for more taste, you started to sucking his bottom lip while Eren savor your taste, he pushes more for a deeper kiss, his hand fondling your clothed boob, then it slipped under them, as he found your stiffened nipple, you felt his smirk between your kiss, and a moan escaped from your lips, they're already swollen and you knew you needed air soon, but without your realizing, you already breath through his air through the kiss. 

You unhooked your bra while Eren pressed you harder against the wall, his cock was already free from his jeans and boxer, his beautiful tip was coated in precum, when you finally exposed your breasts in front of him, the animalistic side possessed him back, Eren kneads your breasts greedily causing you to mewl, shivers running down your spine, and you unconsciously grinds you drenched cunt against his waist, Eren cackled. 

"What a fucking whore, you looked like a cat in heat." 

You whined when his flat palm hit your cunt, he rubs the dampen clothed surface of your clit, Eren brought his mouth to your breast and started to circling his tongue on your nipple, making your back arched and you grinding to nothingness of his waist, "whore," he spat, a string of saliva bridge between your skin and his lips, "is this what you called a student president? i don't think so." Eren grip your throat and slowly adding pressure to your air circulation with his index finger and thumb, his other hand has been stroking his own cock for awhile, he uses his precum as lube and your eyes twinkled to the beautiful sight. 

Your lips parted, he let out a throaty groan to your ear just to tease you, "what if i just jack myself and leave you like this?" the menacing grin appeared on his face, your desperate look just pleased him even more, he groaned under his breath as he feeling himself twitching, and your drooling pussy just looking tastier than ever, Eren inhaled and faked a pout, "aw, what is it? don't you want to walk around with my cum dripping from your slutty hole aren't you? that is sinful my Love, won't it gonna stain your pride, Miss President?" 

You cursed under you breath, and another slap landed on your cunt, you threw your head back as Eren squeezed you against the wall, "nu uh, bad words," he growled, "what do you want, Y/N? Use your fucking mouth if you want something, did your parents never tell you?" another hard slap on your cunt made you gasp, you cried louder, and Eren shushed you while peppering kiss on your naked shoulder, "careful darling they might hear you from downstairs." 

He pecked your nose before he finally aims his cock to your entrance, stroking his tip to your dripping cunt, "what do you want, Y/N? say it." He repeated.

"Your cock!" you whimpered, "please pound me with your cock.... please Eren.. i just want it inside.."

He slammed into you, causing you to let out a sharp noise, "Oh, like this?" Eren felt your soft warm walls hugging him so tightly, as if you guys just fit so perfectly together, he held his hand on your tummy to prevent you from grinding your greedy self, letting your cunt clenching him by itself, "fuck you're so tight my Love," he groaned subtly. 

"E-eren please move..... i'm begging you...." you sobbed so pathetically. Eren moved his face close to yours and pinned your wrists above your head, "this will need an outcome don't you think?" he tilted his head, making you wept for his cock to move even more, suddenly an idea popped in his head, "I will move," he said, "i'll shoot my loads in you and then you'll be mine, i want you to want me so badly, i'm going to imprison you, and then.... just then...it'll be just you and me, always and forever," he dug his face on the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent so they'll stay in his head, but he knew it won't, you're his own personal drug anyways, "promise, Darling?" Eren whispered against your skin.

You shivered under him, your eyes rolls at the back of your head, your pussy is aching with lust, so needy for his cock. You quickly nodded your head, "p-promise." 

Eren kissed your neck, sucking them briefly, leaving a visible mark on your soft skin, "good girl."

He pulled his cock from you, leaving just the tip, before then he impaled, filling you up with his length, he slide so easily onto your meat, your legs shivered as he endlessly pushed deeper inside you, and you could feel his tip kissed your cervix, Eren then started to moves at a quick pace, "you like that so much hm? taking my cock like a little slut," he said velvety, turning you on even more. He buried your moan into a deep kiss, his big arm scoot your hips close to him as he ramming his cock with no mercy onto your walls, his other hand still pinning your wrists, as if you're gonna escape from him. You started to rolling your hips on him, making him move more faster, you're both skin to skin, grinding onto each other desperately, "Eren....s'big...so deep..." you moaned. He continues to pound into you.

"Fuck, that's right baby say my name."

"Eren!"

After a minute he completely stopped, you opened your eyes and your face shows confusion, before you could ask any questions, he suddenly slams all of his length into you, causing you to yelp both in pain and pleasure, the lewd sound of skin slapping made you curl your toes, he pounding into you like there's no tomorrow, you threw your head back, your tongue lolling out from your lips, he slamming all his length in and out of you repeatedly until you're a shaking panting mess, an amused look plastered on his cocky face, and his hips didn't stop dipping on you, not letting you think straight or put up any fight, "come on, fucking take it like the cumslut you are."

You choked on your breath as the knot in your stomach getting tighter, "E-ren... hugs...hugs....?" you purred to him, he finally let go of your wrists and let your head fell against his shoulder, he increases his phase that you didn't know was possible, you warped your arms around him as he did to you, and you dragged your nails through his sweaty back, Eren started to whisper sweet nothings as he felt himself twitching, he slurred curses underneath his groaned, his veins popped as he gripped you tightly, his muscles flexes at each moves.

You didn't dare to question him when he said that he'll fill you up inside, because no matter what your answer is, he'll do it anyway. The sight of his hard rock abs and v lines sent you over the edge, “Eren i’m gonna cum—“

“cum with me, Darling.” 

You tasted the bitter tint in your tongue as you started seeing stars, you vision went black as Eren rides you to your orgasm while fluid started dripping down your thighs, your body is shaking uncontrollably, Eren let out a loud groan as he riding himself to his own high using your abused cunt, he shot his warm thick load onto your womb, making sure you take all of it, you buried your face on his neck, he slowly pulls out his cock and watches the white liquid oozing from your hole. Eren lifted up your chin, he cupped your cheek and pressed a soft kiss against your lips, mixing your pants together, “mine.” he moaned to your soft plump lips.

“yours."

⊱✿⊰

#eren jaeger #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger x reader smut #eren jaeger x reader fluff #eren jaeger fluff #eren jaeger smut #attack on titan smut #aot #eren yeager #eren yaeger x reader smut #eren yeager x reader fluff #eren yeager fluff #eren yeager smut #happy birthday eren

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello Raven! May I request a scenario Jamil, Ace, and Floyd calling Azul Zuzu just to be shits? ...... yeah you know who this is LANDJKSJFJS

For @pianostarinwonderland~ ;3c

Fun fact, I actually have a friend that gets “drunk” off of non-alcoholic apple cider. They were the inspiration for this piece, so shoutout to them!

Imagine this...

“Cheers!”

Laughter bubbled up. Cups were raised and clinked together, the colorful liquids inside dancing about in the dim lights of the Mostro Lounge. The jellyfish lamps strung up above cast pinks and blues in purples into the fruit juice--juices of rich plums and cherry reds.

Ace polished his drink off in a few short swigs, then slammed his cup down with a satisfied “Phwaaah! That really hit the spot!”

He jerked his head toward a taller boy and called out to him. “Yo, Floyd-senpai! Thanks for bringing the Basketball Club here! I haven’t had stuff this tasty in a while.”

“Mmm? Kani-chan likes it?” The eel shared a sly smirk with their server--Azul--before slapping an encouraging hand on the small of Ace’s back. “Good, good~ Eat and drink lots more, then~”

“I am pleased to hear such a rave review,” Azul gestured to the pitcher in his hand. “Would you care for another refill?”

“Hit me.” Ace eagerly thrust his cup out to the octopus--but a hand caught his wrist and brought it back down. The Heartslabyul student cut a glare at his team mate. “Oi, what’s your problem?”

“You shouldn’t drink more,” Jamil warned, his voice steady, yet stern. “At this rate, you’re going to drain the club finances...”

And your dignity.

Jamil had attended enough Basketball Club gatherings to pick up on Ace’s behavior patterns. The first year was already brash as it was, but he became even more mouthy when he was high on happiness and a full stomach.

“Haaah? Butt out, Jamil-senpai. We won the game, so stop being a buzzkill and just let me celebrate how I want!”

“This is Azul we’re talking about. And you,” Jamil added, folding his arms and turning his attention to Floyd, “had a hand in this as well. You suggested the Mostro Lounge for our victory meal. I suppose you two thought this would be a good opportunity to line your pockets.”

“My, so you’ve already uncovered my nefarious scheme,” Azul gasped dramatically, clutching at his heart. “I should have expected nothing less from the great Jamil-sama.”

Scarabia’s vice dorm leader frowned. “Stop that.”

“Mouuuu, Umihebi-kun’s got us all figured out, Azul.” Floyd pouted, his cheeks puffed up like an inflated pufferfish.

“No matter,” his boss replied, quickly dismissing his remark. Azul plastered on his most polite smile before addressing Jamil again. “I must commend you for your quick wit. As an apology, please accept all drinks on the house tonight.”

The octopus generously topped off Ace’s glass, then moved to replenish Jamil’s--only to find the rim completely concealed by the vice dorm leader’s hand. Azul’s lip curled, but he made no move to challenge his classmate.

He agreed a little too easily. They must be up to something else, Jamil concluded, eyeing Azul warily.

“Phew!” Ace gasped, having hammered down another cupful of fruit punch. “Gimme ‘nother round...!”

His words were starting to slur, his eyelids fluttering. A dopey grin had etched itself onto Ace’s face. He was full--full, and loose-lipped.

If it’s not money they’re after, then it must be information.

Jamil’s eyes flashed as the revelation dawned on him. He abruptly stood, yanking Ace’s empty glass away from him.

“I think it is about time that we take our leave,” Jamil announced coldly.

“Noooo, my juice...!!” Ace whined loudly, glancing desperately between his three upperclassmen. “Zuzuuuuu, gimme moooore! I wanna drink moooore!! You can’t just cut me off like thiiiis!”

The entire lounge went dead quiet.

“Zu...”

“... zu?”

Floyd and Jamil exchanged confused looks with one another.

“I... I beg your pardon?!” Azul cried, taking a step back. His expression was twisted with both shock and horror, betraying his beauty. “Wh-What is the meaning of this?! S-Such a juvenile nickname...”

“Zuzu is Zuzuuuu,” Ace insisted, his declaration decorated with hiccups and giggles. “Cuz Zuzu’s cute, and the name Zuzu’s also cute...”

“Take it back right this instant!!”

“Naaaaaaah... Zuzu is Zuzu, and Zuzu’s cute... Das mah story, and I’m stickin’ wif it...”

“... Pfft. Ahahahahahah!” Floyd launched into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. His entire body shook as he violently howled, and he attempted to cradle his stomach to keep from keeling over. “K-Kani-chan got you good, Zuzu!”

“Whose side are you on here, Floyd?!”

“I-I’m on... I’m on--” The eel paused, gulping down a massive breath of air... before immediately bursting out in another peal of laughter. “I’m always on Zuzu’s side...!!”

“FLOYD!!”

“Ahahahahah!!”

“You are NOT helping!!” Azul spat, glaring at his dorm member.

He turned to Jamil, pulling his sweetest smile and most honied voice. “Dearest Jamil-san, seeing as how I cannot rely on Floyd, would you care to assist your peer in his time of need?”

“... I’ll pass,” Jamil replied coolly. A smirk found its way onto his lips. “Surely the great Zuzu-sama can resolve this situation on his own.”

The octopus’s face flared with embarrassment. “I cannot believe that you and Floyd would betray me like this!”

“Well, life is just full of surprises, isn’t it?”

“You...!!”

“Oi, Zuzuuuuu, how much longer do I gotta wait for my puuuunch?”

“Zuzu, don’t keep Kani-chan waiting~”

“Yes, you should dutifully tend to your customer’s demands, Zuzu.”

Azul’s gaze became steely, his mouth forming a straight line. “All of you, out--get out. The Mostro Lounge is closed for the evening!!”

#twst #Azul Ashengrotto #Floyd Leech #Ace Trappola #Jamil Viper #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland requests #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland scenarios #curiouser and curiouser

[asset35-maya]

RED DRESS

Part 2/2 of Nice Things

//

“Come on, we’re going to be late.”

“Five minutes, sweetheart. Please.”

Gavin rolled his eyes and sat down on the bed with a thump. The day had finally come when the human was more punctual than the android. He sniggered at the thought but refrained from saying it out loud. Nines looked far more serious than he ought to for a Friday night.

“Babe, it’s just the guys. And Tina.” 

Nines ignored him in favor of twirling a mascara wand through his lashes. 

“We’re literally going to Abick’s. That’s like the oldest, grungiest cop bar you can-”

“It’s not the place or the company, sweetheart.”

Gavin watched Nines finish off with eyeliner. Somehow even androids’ mouths hung open in concentration while doing that. 

He stood up from the little pouffe and shook his long hair out with a flourish. Taking that as his cue, Gavin got up and pressed himself up against his lover’s back. He curled his arms around Nines’ trim waist and rested his chin on his shoulder. 

Their eyes met in the mirror of the wooden dresser that Gavin had built for Nines.

“Whatchu so gorgeous for?”

Nines tried, but couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.

“Shut up and zip me up.”

It wasn’t like he couldn’t reach behind himself and do it on his own. The RK900 model was supremely dexterous, flexible to the point of double-jointedness. 

It was more of an implicit request for the human’s approval of the outfit. Nines didn’t need it, but he asked anyway… just like later that night, Gavin would ask him if it was okay to splurge on a bacon cheeseburger or order an extra shot in his whiskey coke… 

They were codependent like that.

Gavin left one hand on the android’s stomach and placed the other on the small of his back, just at the opening of the dress. His thumb grazed the zipper, but he didn’t demonstrate any further intent to pull it up. 

“You said we were going to be late.”

Gavin swept the dark curtain of hair aside and pressed his lips to the exposed skin at the nape of Nines’ neck. When he spoke it was a whisper.

“Why’s my babydoll looking like something out of a movie for my dumb little promotion party?” 

His hand slipped into the open flap of the dress. It was a simple knee-length a-line. Fairly modest, but something about it set Gavin’s heart racing. Perhaps the colour. A vibrant, lusty, sexy, show-stopping red in sharp contrast to the milky white synthskin.

Nines couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him at the touch. Sighing, he tipped his head back and let Gavin nuzzle his neck. 

“Hmm?”

“Now we’re really going to be late, sweetheart. Zip… hhhhh… zip… me up…”

“Come on, doll. I don’t want someone accidentally spilling beer or mustard on this pretty little thing you got on. It’s just gonna be a chill night out with our friends. They demanded a treat for my promotion, and Hank said he’d come too, so I picked a place he’d be more comfortable at, and I realise that’s not exactly your scene, but I’m glad you’re coming with me, but I really gotta say this dress-”

Nines turned around in Gavin’s grasp and silenced him with a kiss.

“It’s not the place or the company,” he repeated, putting his arms around the human’s neck. 

“It’s your promotion party. It’s about your achievements, your hard work, YOU. And in case you haven’t noticed, you’re the most important person in my life. My partner in more ways than one. My everything.

Your rise in stature means as much if not more to me than my own accomplishments. I’m not the RK900 with the impeccable solve rate. I’m Sergeant Reed’s better half. 

If I had it my way we’d be doing something much grander, but this is how you want to celebrate and that’s fine, but please don’t stop me from dressing for the occasion.”

They looked at each other for a long moment. Steel blue and storm green locked in stalemate. 

Then Gavin pulled Nines into a tight embrace. He released him abruptly and spun him around, zipping up the dress in a flash. Avoiding eye contact lest the tears pricking his eyes betray him, Gavin caught the android’s hand in his and marched out of the apartment.

//

Connor greeted them at the entrance of the bar and waved them over to where the motley crew sat, already well into their first round of drinks.

Hank raised his beer glass in greeting, wearing an orange striped shirt he apparently deemed worthy of festivities. Tina enveloped Gavin in a giant hug. For a good thirty seconds he could see nothing but flannel. Then Miller, Person and countless other officers took turns congratulating him and bringing up past cases or incidents they couldn’t believe hadn’t held Gavin’s career back. 

Nines extricated himself with an artful wave of long fingers and settled onto a bar stool beside his older brother Sixty and his husband Allen. Serious, snarky and clad in their usual black leather, these two were more Nines’ speed.

Ignoring Sixty’s irritated grumble, Nines took a sip of his thirium drink to see if he liked the taste and ordered one for himself. He was prepared to spend the rest of the night sitting still and not touching the many sticky, greasy surfaces in the bar. It wasn’t his idea of fun, but he was happy to let Gavin and his friends do their thing.

Gavin, however, didn’t seem to be in the mood. He humoured his friends (many of whom were now his direct reports) and played along with whatever they insisted on doing, but Nines felt his partner’s eyes on him the entire evening.

“You punishing him?”

“Hmm?”

Sixty was squinting at him shrewdly.

“For coming to this shithole to celebrate. That’s why you wore this? Poor bastard can’t keep his eyes off you.” 

Nines swatted his brother on the chest. 

“I don’t play games like you.”

“Who says I play games?”

Allen shook his head but didn’t look up from his phone.

“I have a fashion sense, Six, not an agenda. I’m not punishing him for anything.”

“Well, you’re certainly distracting him. Reminds me of the time Allen said something stupid while we were getting ready for a shift so I put on lingerie underneath my gear. He nearly fell off a roof that day.”

Allen buried his face in his hands while Nines laughed out loud. 

“Shiiit. Your guy looks fucking lovesick. In front of all his staff too. They’re gonna think he’s a total sap. A new authority figure like him has got to show some grit.”

“Six, your husband follows you around like a lost puppy but that hasn’t interfered with his ability to lead your unit. Gavin will be fine.”

Allen didn’t know whether to consider that an insult or a compliment and settled for sipping his drink in silence.

“So what are you gonna do?”

“To?”

“Make the torture worth his while.”

At that exact moment, Gavin gave Nines a look from across the bar that could have only one interpretation. Sixty noticed and barked a laugh. 

Nines self-consciously tucked his hair behind his ear and smoothed down his dress. If he were human he’d have blushed bright red. 

Back to idly scrolling through his phone, Allen spoke without looking up.

“Let him do whatever he wants.”

Nines’ eyes widened. Sixty nodded wisely.

“His imagination is probably running all over the place right now. All you have to do is let him act on it and you’ll make him the happiest man on earth. It’s his promotion. You should be the prize.”

Allen put down his phone and scooted closer to Sixty, wrapping his arms around the android. They both looked at Nines with identical expressions that were anything but innocent. 

“Yeah, Nines. Dress like a present, expect to be unwrapped.”

Raucous cheers erupted as Gavin lost yet another game of beer pong. The new sergeant barely noticed and took the shot glass thrust into hand by a very jubilant Connor. Nines raised his glass in a silent toast and the two downed their drinks together.

The rest of the evening was an exercise in painful self-restraint. Gavin entertained various playful requests and posed for photos and thanked each and every one of his colleagues for their strong support. Hank clapped him on the shoulder proudly, and Tina even teared up at one point, emotionally overcome with happiness for her oldest and closest friend. Nines watched it all quietly from his perch beside Sixty and Allen.

//

As soon as they slid into an autonomous taxi, Gavin’s lips were on his, smothering him in heated, demanding kisses. Intoxicated and utterly uninhibited, the human put his hands in Nines’ hair… all over his body… and up the pretty red dress. No words were exchanged the entire ride home. 

The fact that android skin could not be marked or bruised was the only thing that let them walk through their busy lobby and ride the elevator up with dignity intact.

As soon as the front door slammed shut, Gavin was all over Nines. He touched and groped and claimed and conquered. 

The dress zipper was pulled down as quickly as it had been pulled up before they left for the bar. Nines stepped out of the puddle of red fabric as delicately as he could and pulled Gavin’s shirt off too. It was only the high quality gyroscope of the RK900 model that kept them from crashing to the floor before making it to the bed. 

Nines allowed himself to be pushed onto the bed and parted his legs for Gavin to easily settle between them. From there, he expected things to go at lightning speed… for Gavin to plough into him and come with a loud roar after a couple minutes, finally sated after a night of frustration.

The exact opposite occurred. 

Even after all the tequila shots Connor and Tina made him do, Gavin was somehow still lucid enough to put his lover’s feelings over immediate physical needs. 

“Babe, I… am soooo… sorry…”

One hand wound up in his hair and the other gripped his hip. 

“Like.. you dressed the phck up… like you looked soooooo damn beautiful, baby… I’m gonna cry.”

For a moment, it honestly looked like that was a possibility until Nines reached up and stroked the human’s stubbled cheek.

“I know Abick’s is kinda crusty but you came anyway… looking like a million bucks but I didn’t spend a second with you… T and Con and the crew… they kinda took over…”

“It’s fine, sweetheart. It was our whole team’s night as much as yours. I’m glad they all had their fun.”

“I didn't. Have any fun.”

“Really? Not even when Chris did that Fowler impersonation?”

“Couldn’t stop… thinking of you… you’re so damn good to me… and I…”

“I was fine. You invited Six and Allen to keep me company and it was fiiiineee.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. Now come on, sarge. Show me who’s boss.”

Nines rolled his hips against Gavin’s and that was all the conversation there was to be had for the night. They were both still getting used to having nice things… but they were doing well.

//

Inspired by @marndraws

#reed900 #rk900 #dbh rk900 #dbh nines #dbh gavin #gavin reed #gavin900 #gavin x rk900 #gavin x nines #background allen60 #long haired nines #red dress #tooth rotting fluff