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kerryweaverlesbian · 5 months

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2023, cawis created...

Last year I made a post (which I cannot find) delighted to have published 81,932 words to Ao3 over 20 fics. This year I beat that with 111,227! 25 fics new last year! and that's not including poetry or things I only posted to tumblr! How wonderful!! I'm gonna do a little commentary on each of them (and I will thoughtfully put it below the cut because as I said there are 25. There is a "horny" section with some explicit quotes so just scroll past to the next heading if you don't want to see that lol.

Comedies I like to go hehehe hahaha

Stakes Aren't Just For Vampires Cas and Dean get high and silly "You're repulsive," Dean says by rote, and he isn't sure if he meant it to but it comes out cloying and sweet, like an affectionate nickname.

The first one I posted last year! It took me until March :0 I wrote this one. For maybe a slightly mean reason haha. I saw a fic where Cas did a bet for money and I was like ?? why would CAS care about getting money?? So I tried to think of a situation where he would make a bet and this one materialized!

Did you notice! I used the old reliable Rule Of Three to make the ending of Dean not sure if he said "I love you" or just thought it more potent? He thinks and then immediately says what he's thinking twice before: Cas is perfect/"You're perfect" - Dean wants to kiss him/"I want to kiss you" - and then: "I love you Cas," he thinks he says. I chose "1000 dollars" from the CBBC comedy sketch show Stupid sketch where 2 old ladies ask how much something costs and it's a normal amount and they mishear as "A thousand pounds?! You can't expect me to buy a bun for a thousand pounds. Shame on you!! I am taking my business ELSEWHERE!". The comments won't all be this long lmao (<- edit: she's wrong)

I'll Drink To That Sam and Dean both come out as bisexual at the same time late in life and they're both flabbergasted "What, do you think about how every friend we have would be in bed?" Dean tips his head to the ceiling thoughtfully and Sam wants to melt into the floor. "You're horrible. I hate you. I hate spending time with you."

The SECOND one I posted last year!! I had to cut off a joke where it's suggested that Cas may have had sex with Jesus Christ (but it's very possible he's just messing with Dean) for the sake of flow. First fic I chatted with @homoangel about so I always think of him when I think of this fic <3

I'VE CRAWLED FURTHER INTO THE VCR Cas's dream of being vored by the VCR machine is finally realised Intricate, high effort collaboration, all for the relatively unimportant end of entertaining other humans for somewhere around an hour and a half. The entire enterprise amounts to making pleasing shapes and noises for each other. Fruitless. Pointless...To spend months, years even, producing something, the only purpose of which is to waste more time…the decadence was astounding. [horny]

Speaking of fics that make me think of my friends! Wrote this for dear @castielsprostate's 1k event. Get weird get wild!! He is THE teevee angel and I love him I love him I love him for it!!!!!!

Tragedies Auogh ouch ow ouchies. Hehe <3

The Aftermath Dean and Cas have sex. It was great. Dean can't let it happen again. "He wonders - and he shouldn't, but - he wonders if Cas will sit here again, later, feeling out the absences that Dean is going to leave behind."

The THIRD one I posted this year!!! I went directly from silly silly silly to "[Dean] is a practical man, always has been. If there's something behind you that would kill you to look at it, you just don't look at it.". I think this is one of my best (<- guy who is going to say this about most of her fics sajbfhsv. I wouldn't post them if I wasn't proud of them!!)

Time/Body Problem Cas and Dean make out in the car before Cas's date in Heaven Can't Wait. It doesn't change anything. he's all sensation now, mind-body-time melted together like carved figures on a wax candle.

I wrote this and Aftermath on the same day. I was THINKING about how Dean and Cas so so so often ALMOST have it. Dean, here, is enthralled by the idea that Cas is human now and could want him (although, Cas definitely also wants him as an angel lmao but this is what Dean thinks) but also put off by it. When they kiss, he sees Cas as angelic, with a streetlamp halo, able to melt time, but when Cas is walking away from him, he's just some human guy who, crucially, can't save Dean anymore. Cas had reliably been the guy who could blast into any dangerous situation and come out on top (hot) and while that's not the only thing Dean likes about him, it WAS such a relief for scaredboy dangerlife Dean to have a guy who makes things SAFE. And now he can't. So the risk of making their relationship deeper feels even greater. Perhaps it is a selfish thought for Dean to want Cas to be able to rescue him still, but they're both in such perilous positions. He's worried for Cas too.

Oh did yous get the title by the way? It's like the mind/body problem which is, 'is the mind separate from the body or are they completely inextricable'? 'If I think of something sad and start crying while I'm hormonal, is that feeling from by body or from my mind' is how I understand it, but I'm not a philosopher haha. So time/body problem is like, all three of: Does their relationship need human senses and physical touch in order to be meaningful? Does Castiel's new experience of linear time (aka not being an angel) change how he and Dean relate to each other? And also, the more straightforward, they don't have enough time. Not to say I thought all that when the phrase came into my head, it's just bc I knew the phrase mind/body problem and mind slant rhymes with time, but that's why I liked it enough to use as a title haha.

Smoke Breaks series Dean and Cas share cigarettes at different points in their lives. Cas trails off, taking another long pull. He's going to smoke the whole thing at this rate, rude and overindulgent. Dean doesn't begrudge him, neither the cigarette nor the silence. He knows what he means.

Someone told me in the comments that reading the first one fit exactly into their actual smoke break I was like WOAH :0!!! Smoking is, unfortunately, really sexy.......I keep trying to think of a way to add another fic to make this thing end on a positive note but the theme of smoking thwarts that haha. Inherently, it is about doing something you know is unhealthy and grey and makes you feel worse, like hunting, like endverse Cas's relationship with endverse Dean, like coming back to see the lover you hurt when you can't touch them or change anything, but it's always bitter sweet because you sometimes get that burst of relief. (That's not a commentary on smokers, just on the theme of smoking as used by this series!)

The last one I think drives that home most bluntly, "No amount of talking is going to change anything." but they still hold on to each other. Also in the last one, I just wanted them to be in kind of miserable surroundings and decided on a weird, dank, alice in wonderland themed motel room, which is a) something interesting to describe when I need space between dialogue and b) the ill-advised freaky looking murals of half-humanoid Wonderland characters is a reflection of how Castiel feels - not human enough, not Other enough, twisted out of shape and c) it 'reflects' (I'm about to do a pun) their relationship has gone 'through the looking glass' (teehee) from the understood 'brothers in arms' to a strange, uncertain place where the rules have changed.

Shaking Out The Nest John gets frustrated by Dean asking to visit Sam at college. "I talk a lot of shit, but [Sam]'s always gonna be family. He's..." the only reason I'm alive, same as you, John can't quite get to come out of his mouth, so instead he repeats, "He's good."

In the demon plane episode where it's revealed that John would rave about Sam getting a full scholarship to Stanford. I think about it SO MUCH. John loved his kids but that didn't make him a suitable parent. I wanted to explore those complicated emotions and the thought patterns that might lead him to what he does. Like I don't think it's deliberately thought out scheming malice that makes him say things that make Dean feel worthless. But he only sees him as a kid when he "fails" at being an "adult" (as in, when Dean disagrees with him) and he thinks it's his job as a parent to tell Dean to knock that off. He wouldn't see his reframing of Sam leaving to "He left both of us because of his pettiness" as playing them off against each other, even though he IS, he'd see it as telling the hard truth and trusting his son to be a grown up about it. John is very emotional and parenting just via your own emotions rather than being able to step back and go 'am I being fair? is this a reasonable response to what's actually happening?' leads to situations like John blaming Dean for the Schtriga incident or saying he should 'rot in jail' for stealing peanut butter.

Horny ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Close Zoom (too close) Dean and Cas make out for the first time while watching a movie. Cas gets overexcited. [Cas] replays the experience of holding Dean; the way his eyelids had fluttered shut with relief when their mouths first connected; the lean in by increments that ended with Dean on top of him....He wants to touch him. No, he amends the oft repeated thought, he wants to touch him again.

I also wrote this inspired by going huh??? from another fic where they watch a movie together on a date on a first date and DON'T make out like. What are we doing here gang. If they are "watching a movie" and enjoy making out, then they ARE making out before the credits roll lmao. (In MY humble opinion!!!) Obviously chose The Mummy bc Dean's bisexual and I KNOW that man is showing Cas all his Formative To My Sexuality movies as a move to try and suss out what Cas's preferences are. The Lost Boys, Mr & Mrs Smith, Van Helsing, Labyrinth, Indiana Jones, Charlie's Angels, the list goes on.... Also my first installment with Cas having a bit of a pain kink (excited by the thought of a shock collar lol which I havvve been thinking about doing something more with.)

I have. by the way. a second work in progress where Cas gets wayyy more worked up than he was expecting and Dean is similar to here, slowing him down so it's not overwhelming, so look forward to it!!!!

Thunderstruck Cas has them struck by lightening while Dean sucks him off. HELL YEAH. Emanating from Castiel are intermittent bursts of white electric light, shocking across the black sky, sketching outlines of six invisible spread wings. That same light forms thin circular halos behind Cas’s head, some small, some so massive Dean can only see them in pieces. His eyes too - completely obscured by brilliant white light. He is radiant in all senses of the word.

hehehehe. If your boyfriend can make it safe to be struck by lightening like you GOTTA do it just for the experience. I decided to have Dean not be like, blown away by it (but he is blown away by seeing a bit of trueform Cas) and instead find it just kind of weird but not bad to try and be true to life. sometimes you try something and don't love it or hate it and that's okay! Normal part of having sex. Sex is just another activity with lots of things you can do with it. That, and, it can't all be high points lol. That's why Cas is a little subdued when Dean says he only has 6 wings. peaks and valleys :)

The Feeling Is Enough Service top Dean :) "Cas - Cas, please...please can I come?" Cas doesn't say anything, just smiles up at him adoringly.

This one was bc @faithdeans lamented the lack of service top Dean destiel and I raced to his aid. Literally Dean would LOVE doing this.

Red Velvet Lines The Black Box Vampire!Dean sucking Cas's blood :) Cas is the only angel human enough to have workable blood.... And even if there were anyone else, Dean wouldn't want them. His is the only blood in Dean's veins.

This one was bc @domesticatedangel lamented the lack of vampire destiel smut and I raced to her aid. Castiel the rebel angel being horny over being given an order that he chooses to follow of his own volition? It's more likely than you think! The unmissable return of Castiel's pain kink lmao, even moreso in the second chapter. His penis! in peril!!!!!

The Girl Is Dead. Long Live The Woman. (Anna/Pamela*) Anna visits Pamela to find out what she wants and they have sex :) "I'm not used to - being part of things still. Being touchable. I didn't make the most of it, as a human. I didn't do enough. I was afraid. Embarrassed of my own feeling. I think I wasted my life." "Be fair. You were a kid for most of it. You didn't know who you were."

THIS one was because @honestlyhaunted lamented the lack of Pamela/Anna smut and I RACED to their aid. You may be noticing a theme. It's quite possible that if you sigh forlornly over a lack of erotica and I see it that something will be done about it. No promises though lol.

I tried to go for a more season 4 and 5 "everyone just fully states their unique moral philosophy out loud" vibe. And a "Pamela's disability actually affects her life in a practical way" vibe that the show itself elected to ignore. I DID get distracted a few times from my goal of "they have hot sex" because I got too invested in Anna's weird life. As I said in a comment response, Anna is the butterfly that wants to squash herself back into her cocoon. She went from being very emotionally present in her body as a human to having a very flat affect as an angel again (in part because she didn't feel the need to mask her autism anymore. Anna's autistic just like Cas and Hannah and people are not saying this!!!!). And, finally. I wanted a woman to have sex with a woman using a strap on because I hadn't done that yet LOL.

*If this ship was more prominent we could be calling it Pamelanna which is very fun to say.

The Dog, the Lamb and the Butcher Dean and Crowley are having sex during their summer of love and Cas is caught watching them >:3 Then again, fairness doesn't seem to be the watchword here. Dean's looking up at him with what could be adoration, but there's a wildness to him too, a sparkling mischief that undercuts any implied promise of loyalty. "You like me, don't you Cas? You like me. Uhhn -" A groan born out of Crowley picking up the pace again, making Dean rock into the mattress, "You like me. You like me all the time, no matter what I do. You even like me now."

Nobody asked for this I have no one to blame but myself. I love and adore the Dean who cannot speak his feelings no matter how much he wants to but there is always room in my heart for an overemotional Demon!Dean who says and does whatever he wants because he's lost the ability to care about the consequences. We could have had it alllllll.

Ask for it Cas caught casturbating by Dean. What happens next WON'T surprise you. His breathing is labored, and he's making quiet sounds of effort, which probably have something to do with the fact that his fingers are pushing in and out of the wet, open pussy between his legs. The pace doesn't slow at Dean's interruption, giving Dean ample time to absorb the image of Cas’s long fingers being swallowed to the last knuckle.

I am asking here now. I am the one sighing forlornly. I don't CARE that there are already 232 accidental voyeurism destiel fics. MAKE MORE. SHOW ME MORE. SHOW ME MORE. I WANT TO READ MORE. MORE SHAMELESSLY SELF-PLEASURING CASTIEL AND/OR DEAN AND THEY DON'T HAVE A SOCIAL SCRIPT FOR THIS SITUATION SO THEY'RE JUST GOING ON INSTINCT AND THEIR INSTINCT IS TO BE CRAZY HORNY ABOUT IT. SHOW ME MORE!!!!!

Ahem. Or don't teehee. This was my most self indulgent smut (and that's really saying something!!!!). I highly recommend just fuckin going for it because it means I get to reread something all the time that is exactly suited to my tastes!! Hell yeah!!

Fluff :3 this is uwu-hat uwu've aww been uwu-ating fow :3

Pretty Wife Closeted to even himself genderqueer Dean inadvertently insists that he's Cas's wife. Neither of them are opposed! "I think I understand," Cas says, nodding to himself with his 'I got it' smile, "Yes. We are playing roles. I will 'take out the trash' while you 'sit there and look pretty'."

My kingdom for genderqueer dean. He's literally butch. Helloooo!!

Okay that's all for fluff. LOL. SORRY. I post most of my fluff directly to tumblr!!

Carefully Plotted!!! These are the big ones!!!!!!!! All three of these are "One of my best".

A Light Above Descending Cas gives Dean his Grace to calm his Mark of Cain rages. He assumes Dean doesn't remember what he tells him when he's being fed, so he allows himself to be kind. He assumes Dean would prefer that he quietly sacrifice his life for him. He assumes that he hasn't got any family left who love him. He's wrong. A rat gets what a rat gets, is the phrase that repeats in his head, although he can’t speak them over the pounding of his heart, a rat gets what a rat gets.

I have talked about this one at great length in my #cawis commentary tag so I will not reiterate here. Other than that I am sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo so so so so proud of it and I love it so much.

The Voice In My Earpiece Thinks You're An Idiot (Jo/Bela) JoBela heist fic!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“If anyone touches you again, I will cut off their fingers.” The fierce darkness of the promise plunges into Bela’s stomach, like a punch. Nobody has ever made her a promise like that before. Not one she believed, anyway. “Do you believe me?” “That would -” Bela clears her throat, finding her voice croaky - “That would blow our cover.” “I don’t care.” She means it. Bela remembers what Jo said when they properly introduced themselves - “I make a promise, I keep it.”. Stupid, it is, to throw away their plans over a few moments of discomfort. Ridiculous. Childish. “Do you believe me?” Jo repeats, and Bela nods, jerky, unpracticed. “Yes.” She takes a breath, then says again, “Yes.”

They get the biggest quote because theyyy mean so much to meeeee. I'll probably do another cawis commentary on this at some point bc there are too many things I did on purpose to say them all here. For now: when the woman who's learned to never trust anyone comes to trust the woman who's never felt trusted. And they banter and have hot lesbian sex. ROMANCE.

In Case of Emergency S1 Faith!Dean gets a new roommate at the hospital who's weird and intense and unexplainable things happen to him at night. I wonder who it could beeeee surely no one who's significant to Dean!!! (It's S5 Cas when he did the angel banishing sigil on his own chest) One of the machines on the other side starts going crazy with noise just as the curtain is cast back in a dramatic swish. The shadow of a man looms, sinister and ominously silent. He's watching Dean, but Dean can't do the same, his face impossible to make out. A red light flashes off kilter to his head from his monitors, and Dean gets the absurd thought that it looks like a knocked off halo.

You know it you love it it's In Case Of Emergency. I just think. They DON'T have a supernatural soulmate connection but they just get on as people. If they met at any time in each other's lives for the very first time (aside from Godstiel lol) they would end up getting along! They click! They LIKE each other!

I thought a lot about the Sam role in this fic. If you have 3 people and 2 of them want something (to hang out all the time) then the 3rd person SHOULD be getting in the way of that (closing the curtain) for a believable reason (Dean needs to rest and stop tiring himself out with this random stranger!!!). Sam comparing Dean's imminent demise to Mary's death and Dean eventually asking what he'd want Mary to say to him (with the subtext; what can I say to make it better that I'm dying) made me cry as I wrote it and every time I reread it. It's making me cry NOW lol. augh fuck im rereading i'm crying. turns out. when you write exactly what touches you emotionally. you feel touched. emotionally. to read it.

Also this fic now makes me think of darling @forestofsprites bc they've left such wonderfully kind tags every time they've reblogged it :') ily

Misc I dunno. These don't fit in the other categories lol.

6th Life's The Charm! Sarah Blake/Bela Meow!!!!! Sarah gets a mysterious commission to find a painting, and a strangely perceptive cat follows her home the same day. But those can't possibly be connected I'm sure. Smiling with her eyes closed, Sarah puts a hand on B's back and touches. Skin. She startles awake and jerks her hand away. By the embers of the fire, she can see the woman lying on top of her....The woman is watching her, smiling, and her pupils are strange. They creep a little too far into her irises. She's also the most beautiful woman Sarah has ever seen. Stunning, in both senses of the word. "No questions?" The woman asks eventually, as Sarah's silent stare ticks on. Her tone is a) British and b) faintly mocking, like she knows something Sarah doesn't.

Little turned into a kitty cat romcom!! I do fun little asides in footnote format! Middle aged yaoi ummmm but what about middle aged YURI??? Sarah references Sex in the City and is having a midlife crisis what more do you want from me!!! I did want to have a little moment of Sarah saying "sorry about the collar attempt" and Bela flirtily going "hmm, I think it'd look better on you" and Sarah spontaneously combusting but it didn't quite flow. Maybe in the horny sequel I kinda want to write...

MEOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hello, Sun In My Face Cas realises he's in love with Dean. The natural thing to do is to tell him right away. "Don't," Dean pleads, and it's not clear whether he means don't love me or don't tell me. Either way, Cas is going to let him down. "I love you," Cas repeats, firmly, "I have loved you. I will love you. That's all."

Too angsty for the fluff section, too sweet for the tragedies. What are you. As may be clear from previous works, in MY world, Dean and Cas platonically sleep together every night and snuggle the whole time :3 even if it's a world where they're aromantic I firmly believe this would be the case. When I say platonic I am not saying it with a wink and a nudge, as a few scattered comments seem to suggest they think. But also in this one they are also romantically in love haha.

How Do You Go From Wanting To Having? When Cas stumbles back to life after escaping from the Empty, Dean can't speak the words in his heart. But he can write them. You can have it, and variations thereupon: You can have it, damn it; could have fucking taken me, asshole; what do you think is supposed to make me happy now, you arrogant, stupid son of a bitch?

I don't know if I made the most of this premise lol but I had fun building the evidence of grief into the Bunker. They pushed a heavy object in front of the door to the dungeon so they didn't have to see it, Dean filled his room with lights so he didn't have to be in the dark (a general post-canon headcanon of mine that both Dean and Cas have lamps on all night), Dean's stiff position during his nightmare. Little clues that Cas does NOT pick up on bless his heart.

This Is A Love That Lasts Forever It's about Claire giving Cas a haircut. It's about grief. It's about love. Cas remembers - though he shouldn't, ethically - sending Claire for a time out for saying the word 'damn' when she was 6, though she surely couldn't have known what it meant. Swinging her hand on the way to church on Sundays. Clapping for her awkward turn at playing Mary in the Christmas Nativity. Loving Claire had only deepened Jimmy's love of God, and this was the love that Castiel had taken advantage of. He doesn't deserve even a moment of Claire’s forgiveness.

Last one! I uploaded this on the 29th of December but it ISSSSSS absolutely 1000% one of my best. Cas and Claire's relationship in canon is so WEIRD. One doesn't typically accept grumpy cats from the guy wearing your dad's corpse as a skin suit??? Even if he's kind of nice to you?? So this is my way of figuring out how to make it make sense. She can't ditch Cas because that's where all her dad's love is stored and nobody else in her life knows her dad anymore. And they both have to try and make that work.

I had a different ending in mind for a little while - Claire completing the haircut and then going oh my god. now you don't look like my dad anymore. what have I done now I won't remember him I'm so stupid!!! put it back how it was!! and Cas is like um I can't do that though I'm low on Grace and Claire cries herself out about it and they talk about having to get used to new, unfamiliar circumstances. But I like what I went with more (obviously. because I wrote it lol).

Little headcanons that I carried across from other works: - Claire will allow Donna to be as cutesy and affectionate as she likes and Donna calls her "Claire-bear" and nobody can figure out why it's a shy little happy smile when Donna pats her cheek and beams at her and she would kill anyone else who tried it with her laser eyes. I do though, I know why. It's bc of Donna's easy open affection that genuinely isn't trying to hide anything. Claire knows Donna isn't faking it because Donna is kind to everything and everyone. She would have a harder time with Garth though even though Donna and Garth are very similar in this regard, just because. Well. The girl has been traumatized and betrayed by so many "nice" men. God how did I get onto this. Donna is the mom/aunty figure Claire has needed for a long time. I talk about this in Growing A New Half Soul - Angel's were never children I talk about in A Light Above Descending.

THE END.

If you've read this. Are you sure you didn't have anything better to do with your time avhsbv but thank you!!! Go follow all the friends I've @'d because then they might do follower events and I might write more things as a result!!!! Also go and write some dean walking in on cas masturbating fic and then send it to me.

My challenge for you is to think about women falling in love with other women. Wow, beautiful, right? And also to think of ONE thing you did that you are proud of this year. Even and in fact especially if it's something you're not "supposed" to be proud of. Did you find something new you liked. Were you kind to someone. Were you kind to yourself when you didn't have to be. All these and more are things to take pride in.

I, for one, am proud of having written 111,227 words of complete short fiction!!!!! So much so that I wrote another 4936 words talking about them here :)

#cawis commentary #fic recs #this post is actually really just for me to reflect on my own work and remember all the fun stuff I put in there #and this number also isn't including my many many many WIPs teehee #anyway. MWAH!!!!!

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chaoticgremlinbrainspace · 9 months

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was going insane at a friend last night now I need to research transness in the 70s and all that fun stuff so I can be fully unhinged and maybe actually write smth for once instead of being haunted by visions

#grem screams #I love history #I love reading and learning about the past and the people #I love seeing the way things have changed the way things reflect and parallel and diverge #I also just really like queer history #I love learning about the ways people existed and shit #idk theres just smth so cool about people in spaces that aren't really talked about in regular history classes and like learning about them #I might be a lil cringe boy art student who cant help but romanticize shit because hes full of feelings but idk it got me feeling #sometime of way #idk lately ive been feeling like I cant quite find the words to describe what I am I just know I am what I am #and that often people just get it or they dont lol #ngl this all started off as me vague posting about wanting to write a trans genda scout from tf2 fic and getting wya too invested in how #that would work logically bc it needs to be accurate #it needs to be a journey!!!#and I want it to be in charater #but im also a lil bitch for angst lmao #im also a nerd lmaooo that and its hard for me to write things dow n with out it sounding wrong or just not right you know?#it feels wholly too earnest and cheesy to my own ears and it makes me shrivel up like a popcorn left in the oven #uh anyway I think trans scout is neat actually and I would love to see more explorations into it guess im gonna attempt to be the change I #wanna see in the world lmao #idk hes just so easy to grab and dunk into the #world is fuck being different is hard give 200 dollars sauce you know?#veeerrrry easy to project onto the trans angst is he is like sponge and I am a vicious liquid #and he has daddy issues lmao apparently arcording to my very small sampling size that tends to happen side by side #and idk I think it would make sense for scout to just straight up not know a lot of shit he gives #me when I was in middle school and I thought it was funny to trick people into thinking I was a guy even tho I was totally a girl /sarcasm #he gives deep in the denial sauce but also totally extremely uncomfy when people find out and getting unreasonably happy when hes called si #but ahahaha nooo im totally a girl haha and just feeling more awkward now #lmao #sorry for the rambling lmao idk if this is accurate for his charater I do think him being trans could be a fun thing to just explore and sh

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fantasy-costco · 1 year

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I think if a tumblr user says anything about history they should include Chicago style citations in the post. This is also true for other areas of study but I don't really know much about those so I only get filled with a blind rage when history posts are wrong. So that's what we need to fix first. For me.

#This is also true of my own posts and it's literally why #I try to only put history stuff in the tags instead of in proper posts #(so if I am wrong misinformation doesn't spread) and when I do I try to cite where I hot my information from #As best I can without doxing myself #Ie most of my information about maritime history comes from my job not classes so I only say 'I work at a history museum'#Not the specific museum I got that information from because that's not safe imo #Otherwise I'll say 'I got this from class' or 'I got this from a research projim working on' or a documentary or a book or etc etc #And if I say something like that you can always send an ask or a dm and I'll give you my sources!#But I don't include that stuff in actual posts because I'm at a weird point in my education #Where I'm technically trusted as a source of information for some people (working at the museum) but I still don't have my bachelors let #Alone the masters so I really don't feel comfortable positioning myself as an expert because I'm certainly not one #Which is why it makes me so frustrated when people who obviously have way less training than me (which is difficult! Like I said I won't #Even finish undergrad until this spring!) position themselves as experts and then just fucking #Lie about a field I care deeply about #Like on top of everything else I'm going into public history so it's about to be my job to clean up your mess. What the hell dude #This isn't about any specific post or person just the general trend of misinformation on this site #There is worse misinformation I know but I also truly believe that know history is necessary to making informed decisions about the present #And when you're mistaken about history or even worse completely rewriting it... That's bad #General rule of thumb if a history 'fact' 100%#Reflects your world view with no issues it's probably propaganda or at least not the whole story. With very few exceptions.#To quote Oscar Wilde 'the truth is rarely pure and never simple'#I made a lot of typos here don't worry about it. You get it.

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girlvinland · 2 years

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Ok bear with me this kind of exploded in the tags bc I just started thinking about it more and like ohh.

Random thought came to me this morning about how when I use to RP Will I HC’d the mask being a thing he used to kind of blot out some of the world because it all felt so loud and bright and it was easier for him to focus his psychic energies with it on, but then I was like wait this sounds familiar to my own experience and maybe I just didn’t realize the connections then but I have pretty bad photosensitivity and get overstimulated/overwhelmed super easy when I’m in crowds and things like that and now I’m like. Ah. If I had known it then I think I just would’ve made that part of the HC lol.

Also it’s just a fucking. Blast to the past looking at that old blog. I am still kinda proud of the name tbh lol bc it was @d-esper-ado (like desperado but with esper in the name, yeah it’s cheesy whatever).

#by bug #idk I like giving chars things I experience or relate to bc it’s easier for me to write from a place of understanding #even if it’s something like that that’s kind of minor in the grand scheme of things #i know some people don’t like that but for me it kind of helps release some of the stress associated w things like that #also surprised to see my Will blog hasn’t kicked the bucket yet but I’m still glad I backed it up #but anyway thinking of the post above and these things being put into chars that reflect my own experience #all of this was also waaaaay before my doctors first brought up adhd to me #and it was something I NEVER considered for myself bc like a lot of ppl my age #I thought it was a thing that mostly affected amab ppl and was you know all those stereotypes of what ppl thought of #and I remember the first time my therapist brought it up I went home to kind of look at symptoms and was like #oh everything in my life has just been explained to me #the things like I mentioned in the posts #people calling me flaky and telling me how much I interrupt #always feeling kind of..out of place among people at work or school or wherever and being called ‘weird’ but not really getting why #masking to prevent that #and priding myself on being a ‘social chameleon who gets along w anyone’ bc I HAD too to not be seen as weird #not ever realizing how detrimental that actually was for ME #my mom saying my entire like ‘you get so obsessed with things you can memorize all these other things but not school stuff’#or zeke like ‘I can literally track your fixations by seeing the pictures you save on your phone’#the meltdowns I’d have when I got too overwhelmed #and the inability to concentrate on anything like for real it was just like the answer to EVERYTHING #and I’m honestly really salty a lot of the time bc I wish to GOD they had done more research on this when I was a kid #so I could have learned how to cope with it better and shit #i think learning more skills earlier would have helped a lot #anyway that’s my ramble for the morning good day #I told you there was a tag explosion #I warned you #also do I HC Will having adhd idfk but I do like the photosensitivity thing for him lol #and just him getting overstimulated easily and having a physical item to help prevent it

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wagpastie · 1 year

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sometimes i see peoples posts that make sweeping statements about specific demographics with absolute certainty and its just like. man you truly just not have had many good people in your life huh

#this is not a callout just a random thought #saw a post abt parents #you really truly think everyone thinks like that? seriously?#because god that is so sad #that the world has only shown you its worst parts and you havent experienced some actual good #or just people who genuinely try to be good #i havent had the best of experiences but i know i have absolutely not had the worst and that ive lived a good and happy life so far #so i know my worldview reflects that #but idk #im thankful im at the point where i now actively seek and recognize the good before the bad #things are much more managable that way #this got away from me #but yeah #its like those posts abt creating mean and innacurate versions of ppl in your head due to your own insecurities #just. that cant be fun. or happy to live like that #and it makes me sad that this is what life and the world is like for people #this is all very naive and vent-y and rant-y #but i genuinely just want people to be able to find happiness in the world and their lives #working on myself and my mental health has rlly made me feel this #like damn. i just want us all to be okay and not fearful of the world

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snapscube · 1 year

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so i don't know if this is a post i'm gonna keep up cause, like i said, i don't really like talking candidly about aspects of my personal identity often these days, and lord knows i especially hate talking about legal identity and all the dissonance that entails. but this week was a pretty big one for me and i can't shake the desire to share my enthusiasm for even just a fleeting moment.

my name has been a sticking point in my mind for a long time. i've adopted many different ones. first, middle, last, you name it. i've been searching most of my life for a moniker that represented my true self socially, and a surname to distance myself from someone in my life who hurt me very badly and never really learned how to stop.

obviously for a long time now I've been Penny Parker to 98% of people who know me, and for the past couple that number has been bumped up to a solid 99% with a few stragglers. it's a name that is so mundane and assumed at this point that tbh I've even come to resent certain aspects of it. which to me is actually beautiful. i find that mundanity, that nuance, extremely telling of how it encapsulates my life. it's a fully three-dimensional reflection, smudges and sparkles and everything in between.

of course, i only just moved out on my own 3 years ago. and unfortunately that had to be the starting point to make this social and personal progress i've been sitting on for half a decade at least now official, tangible, legal. i've been playing a game of catch-up i didn't sign up for, but it's one that does have a silver lining in that i feel more in resonance with who i am and who i want to be than i ever did before being granted this independence.

and as of this week, i have the pleasure of entering an era of my life where the dissonance between who i am in speech and who i am in contract is nonexistent. my name is Penny Olivia Parker. i'm the same as i've always been, but getting better every day at it. soon i'll even have a license to match!

sometimes more of an Olivia Parker in brief moments nowadays tbh but i haven't worked out the details yet. nothin you need to stress over, ill take care of it. the full set is just fine and legally recognized, which is all i've wanted for as long as i can remember.

this isn't the end of my journey, both excitingly and unfortunately haha, but this is yet another huge milestone for me and in certain respects it's one of the biggest i've managed. i'm so happy to still be here. if you're reading this, thank you for being here too.

also those of you who watched my direct reactions the other day might have a little more insight as to why i was so emotional that the day after a judge signed my legal name change a new game by the Sonic Mania devs was announced called "Penny's Big Breakaway" LOL, it was a lot to handle for me but i wasn't sure how much i wanted to say just yet.

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littlejuicebox · 5 months

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The wish spell worked.

Pairing: Astarion x F!Reader/Tav

Summary/Setting: 10 years post BG3. Follows my HC for spawn Astarion arc. See my other fics for more information, but otherwise the title speaks for itself. :)

Rating/Warnings: PG / allusions to sexual behaviors / fluff / in-game spoilers / lightest bit of angst if you squint but not really / this is self-indulgent af and idc / so sweet it will rot your teeth

Word Count: 2.2 K

A/N: HAPPY 400 FOLLOWERS POST! Thank you to everyone who likes my stories and provides encouragement. I love you all! I originally wanted to post this as a New Years Eve/Day special, but I couldn't get it quite right by then. After several reiterations, this is what we finally have! Hope it was worth the wait and multiple edits for you guys! :)

-----

If anyone had told Astarion Ancunin a decade ago that he would one day hold Gale Dekarios on a pedestal nearly as high as the one on which he held his darling Tav, the immortal elf might have actually died from laughter. The strange irony and wicked life lessons of fate were not lost on the retired rogue. Unbelievably and annoyingly, Astarion eventually found himself indebted to the wizard in a way he could never repay.

The wish spell worked.

It had taken years for Gale to feel absolutely ready to cast the spell. Astarion waited — exasperated, impatient, and impetuous — for what felt like the longest ten years of his ageless lifetime to be given the gift of mortality.

More than once, in the pale elf’s tearful fits of frustration, he accused the wizard of intentionally stringing him along or simply not having the skills to perform such a spell and not wanting to admit it. More than once, you had to calmly remind your husband of the great lengths Gale had gone to find information regarding the act and the even greater risk to both the vampire and the wizard if the spell was not cast perfectly and mindfully.

It had been a long decade, waiting for that impossible possibility, but the wait had been more than worth it.

Just over ten years after you met that silver-haired rake on the beach, Astarion was miraculously returned to his living, breathing, heart beating, mortal elven form. Surprisingly, not much changed about his appearance. Most notably, his eyes turned a gold-flecked green, and his complexion took on a constant soft pink undertone, permanently tinged by the circulation of his own blood by his own heart. That beautiful undertone caused a delightful blush to creep across his cheeks and ears whenever you teased or aroused him, and you took an even more significant liking to both these behaviors, just to watch that gorgeous rosiness creep across his skin.

And while you dearly loved that blush, your favorite part of the change had certainly been the steady beating of his heart. You would rest your head on your lover’s chest for hours to savor the sound if he let you, wrapped tightly in the new found warmth of his long limbs.

While you became obsessed with Astarion’s steadily thrumming heart, he’d become obsessed with his reflection. As soon as he’d been able to see himself, your husband had taken to having you sit on his lap while you primped and preened. He would stare into the looking glass with you for long lengths of time, his limbs coiled around your waist and chin often resting on your shoulder as he studied the mirror with a besotted, hazy smile on his face.

After a few weeks of this, you finally asked your silver-haired husband why he seemed positively obsessed with this new behavior. Astarion’s response had floored you.

“Darling, in my over 200 years, I never imagined I would have a love of my own, nor did I ever imagine what we would look like together. I couldn’t have envisioned such a thing even if I thought it a possibility or wanted to. I simply couldn’t envision myself at all. But now seeing it? I want to commit everything to memory exactly as it is… because it’s the most precious vision in the world to me.”

And really how else could you respond to that apart from kissing your sappy, bleeding heart of a husband and allowing him to continue the practice?

Of course, the two of you behaving as innocent love birds hadn’t been the only thing Astarion wanted to see in the mirror. On more than one occasion, he’d easily charmed you into the throes of passion in perfect view of a reflective surface. Your husband’s darker, more carnal half had become obsessed with watching you two in the act and it certainly thrilled you to know he was trying to commit those sensual sights to memory. You were quite happy to oblige.

As such, you’d soon found yourself carrying the byproduct of one of your many erotic couplings.

“That was a big one.” Astarion murmurs, and you see a smile creeping across the reflection of his face in the mirror as he glances down and runs his long fingers across the swell of your abdomen. His arms are looped around you as you sit front of the vanity mirror, placing the final touches on your appearance.

You agree with a gentle hum, moving a hand to your pregnant belly and rubbing circles on the stretch of skin, hoping to calm the young life stirring within. You coo softly to the rolling babe as you finish your primping, “Surely you aren’t thinking about breaking out of there yet, my little love. You have a few more months to go.”

Astarion’s now-warm hands cover yours as the little one seems to do somersaults in response to your voice, causing you to wince slightly as they jolt against your ribs. He presses a tender kiss into your shoulder and chuckles, “This one is strong like their mother and impatient like their father… we may be in for a spot of trouble in a few years, my love.”

You laugh in response as you stand with a pitiable amount of effort and quite a bit of assistance from the supportive arm of your husband. “I believe you’re right… but surely we’ve taken on scarier and more difficult things than a stubborn babe.”

Astarion hums in agreement before pressing a kiss to your swollen stomach, which is hovering just in front of him now, “Surely, darling. Now let us all go say hi to Uncle and Auntie Ravengard. I’m positively famished.”

-----

You are almost out of breath as you walk the final steps toward the entry of the Duke’s home. Astarion had practically begged you to take the carriage all the way through Wyll’s estate, but you waved him off, adamant that a bit light exercise would be good for the baby. The walkway was fully paved, how hard could it be?

As it turned out, you’d severely overestimated your abilities. Though it was just under a quarter mile to the front doors of the manor when you’d decided to exit the carriage, you were no longer the young, lithe woman that traversed the wilds with a petulant vampire a decade ago. The weight of your belly slowed you down more than you would admit. Astarion implored you, more than once and with growing concern and exasperation, to return to carriage. You refused each time, forcing the driver to follow behind at a snail’s pace.

“Gods, I hope this child does not take on your stubborn streak. I will be constantly overrun in my own home.” Astarion huffs, dabbing at the few beads of sweat on your brow with a silken handkerchief as he helps you climb the small flight of stairs at the entryway of Wyll’s home. He rolls his eyes as you laugh, breathlessly, and lean into him for support as he presses a kiss at the meeting point between your cheek and ear. “But, my sweet, as much as I would have preferred we stayed in the coach, you know I adore the way you look with your cheeks all flushed after a bit of… exertion.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes at your husband as he traces his hand over your flushed cheek, his expression practically brimming with desire. The flush on the tips of his ears is a telltale sign of his salacious thoughts. If he had it his way, he’d be dragging you into the carriage right there for a quickie. But, he knew you two were nearly running late for dinner with the Duke and forced himself to push all desires aside. For now.

Wyll and his beautiful wife, Euphemia, greet you with a flurry of excitement and hugs. Their two twin toddlers run around in the entryway, a nursemaid trailing behind them.

Wyll wears a kind, soft smile as he addresses the both of you, “Dinner should be just about ready… shall we make our way there? I hope you two don’t mind. We are having work done in the dining room — my beautiful flower insisted upon remodeling — so dinner will have to be served in the Great Hall.”

As the four of you head towards the larger of the two dining areas in the Duke’s estate, Astarion wraps his arm around your waist and runs his hand along the side of your nearly bursting belly once again. There is a subtle pause at the doors of the Great Hall, and your husband’s eyebrows crinkle in a silent question before you gently press a kiss into his cheek and whisper, “Happy Rebirth Day, my love.”

Today marked one year since Gale successfully cast the Wish Spell.

The oak doors burst open to reveal the faces of everyone you hold dear, all of them shouting, “Surprise!” in unison. Wyll and Euphemia are laughing with delight as the four of you enter the room. Astarion is obviously shocked and overwhelmed as he takes the scene in, but a toothy smile is plastered across his face nonetheless. The elf could not believe that the significance of the date had slipped his mind, nor could he believe that you all went through such great lengths to plan a spectacle on his behalf.

Everyone showered your husband with a plethora of well-wishes and congratulations. The food was heavenly, and the silver-haired elf dined to his heart’s content. Just as Astarion loved to watch you both in the mirror, you adored seeing him eat and savor real food. You’d pursued cooking as a new hobby in the past few months, just to watch the delight on his face as he tasted any number of delectable things you placed in front of him.

“Have you thought of any names for the baby?” Karlach asks through a mouthful of food as she continues to tear into the lamb shank in front of her.

You smile knowingly. This topic has piqued everyone’s interest and they all turn their gazes in your direction, “Yes, actually… Astarion picked it out. It works well for a boy or a girl, and I think it’s an excellent choice.”

The elf smiles shyly, that subtle flush of his cheeks and ears crawling across his face as you turn your gaze to him and urge him on, “Go on, my love, and tell them the gorgeous name you picked.”

“I… I decided we should name the baby Gale.” Astarion reveals, his hand immediately moving to graze against your swollen stomach as he meets the flabbergasted expression of the wizard sitting across the table with a round-eyed, nervous gaze, “If… that’s okay by you.”

Gale coughs in surprise, nearly choking on the wine he’d just sipped from a goblet. For a moment, you watch as he blinks away tears. You are beginning to truly believe he might leap across the table and tackle your husband in a hug when he rapidly nods instead.

The wizard’s voice cracks with emotion as he speaks, “Y-yes. Thank you, Astarion. That is such an honor.”

Ten years of friendship between two men that once seemed entirely at odds with one another, honored by a namesake given to a precious babe. Fate was a truly remarkable thing.

“It’s an honor you are quite deserving of, Gale.” You respond, reaching your hand across the table to give the wizard’s hand an affectionate squeeze. “May our child have just as much heart, wit, and skill as their namesake. We will be truly blessed.”

A cake with candles is brought about at the end of the meal and placed in front of Astarion as everyone sings an off-key birthday tune. While your husband always seemed to thrive on being held at the center of attention, you noticed with a bit of amusement that his ears and cheeks were flushed pink as everyone focused their eyes upon him.

While the others continue to sing, you lean closer to your husband and whisper, “I know we will never surpass the wish you made last time, my Star. But go on and make one anyway.”

Astarion’s gaze roams around the room, taking in all the friends he collected this past decade. Then he turns to you and grins, pausing to etch every bit of this moment into his memory before closing his eyes and blowing the candles out to a cacophony of inebriated cheers and whoops.

The elf wished for the only thing he could: a healthy child and a long life with his little love. Fate had already gifted him with more than he could have imagined for himself back in those dark, dank dungeons he once called home. Astarion found himself in want of nothing but the health and happiness of the woman beside him and the safety of their offspring.

Though he knew it was another selfish ask, and he’d been blessed far more than he had ever expected, Astarion prayed to the gods that he once never thought would answer to grant him this last wish. And just in case they did not hear him the first time, he would be sure to make the same wish every year, until his very last.

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writeroutoftime · 3 months

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pawns in your game

pairing: cassian x fem!reader

summary: when you get injured working a job with rhys, your mate - worried for your safety - loses it and finally lets go of his pent up anger

warnings: angst, injury towards reader, cass getting angry at rhys and also rhys kinda being a dick (look I have a lot of thoughts of conversations that never happened in acosf lol - I just hope this isn't horribly ooc)

words: 1.3k

a/n: first cassian fic! honestly, I know I said I'm in love with rhys, but it's the same for cass and az - so this one is for my fellow cassian people! wasn't sure how to wrap this up, so I left it open for a part 2. let me know if anyone is interested and/or has any ideas? but either way, please enjoy!! (also, if you could let me know what you think because I'm so nervous about posting this!)

tagging @captainsophiestark as requested! (hope you're having a lovely day!)

oOoOo

"Cassian, I need you to visit Windhaven and deal with Devlon. I'm getting reports of unrest, and I want this handled before it becomes a problem." Rhys commanded, not looking up from the papers on his desk.

Standing at attention, Cass nodded his head once, sharply. "Of course. I will go and pack, so that y/n and I may leave before the sun sets." He moved to exit the room, holding his hand out for you, but was quickly stopped before either of you got too far.

"Actually, y/n, I need you to accompany me." Rhys interrupted, directing his attention to you.

Your jaw dropped, caught off guard, and you hurried to school your features. It was not that you had to be paired with Cassian for all missions, but it had been that way for at least a century now since your mating ceremony. It served as peace of mind to you and Cass, and usually meant your missions were more successful compared to when you were separated. Surely, Rhys understood that.

"We will be leaving for the Spring Court in the morning, and I need my most trusted courtier with me."

Shock ran through your body, but you nodded your head regardless. It must be a serious matter, for you had not visited the Spring Court in many months. However, you instantly felt a sharp tug of your mating bond followed by waves of anger that poured off of Cassian.

"Spring Court?" he ground out, fists clenched at his side. "Why must you travel to the Spring Court? I thought we put that behind us?"

"Because I have official business to conduct with Tamlin that supersedes our personal desires. And I need the Night Court's courtier present for." Rhys snapped back.

You sent a soothing message down the bond, trying to calm Cass' anger you felt growing with each second that passed. "Cass, it's alright. Both of us will be fine."

"No. Rhys, you know what happened the last time any of us stepped foot there. You really want to risk it? Can't you send anyone else to go? Lucien, Mor, Feyre?"

Now it was Rhys' turn to growl. "Watch it, Cassian. I've told y/n she will accompany to Spring and that's enough."

"But can't you just-"

"I said that's enough!" Rhys shouted, his eyes darkened dangerously as the thread of his patience snapped. "I am your High Lord, and you will not push back against what I command."

A tension so thick that it threatened to choke you immediately filled the room. You kept your eyes locked on the ground, but you didn't have to look to know Cass wore a mask of despair on his face. It had been decades since Rhys had lost his temper like that.

Cassian merely bowed his head in mock respect before dragging you from the room. He did not speak for the next hour, only doing so to whisper his love and goodbye to you, before flying to Windhaven, not saying another word to Rhys.

oOoOo

The next day found yourself in the ruins of the Spring Court. What once was a beautiful court that thrived for all its citizens now lay dilapidated and lonely, a reflection of the court's high lord's own feelings. It had rattled your nerves to set foot on Tamlin's territory considering the rocky history between the Spring and Night courts, but you would not leave Rhys' side.

Now, you were utterly exhausted from mediating with two, stubborn males all day; only for no new development to transpire, meaning you simply wasted a day away from your own court and your mate. Your only relief came from the swift exit Rhys insisted on, making sure you would arrive home before the sun set.

Yet, the tension from the previous day lingered as you and Rhys traveled to the border to be able to winnow out. But as you both walked in silence, you couldn't help but feel uneasy. Like someone, or something was watching you. Before you could communicate any of this to Rhys, you caught a solider out of the corner of your eye with an arrow notched and aimed at your high lord.

"Look out!" you shouted. With such little warning, you knew Rhys wouldn't be able to deflect the arrow on his own. And with a rush of adrenaline, you pushed your body to reach Rhys.

Mere seconds before the arrow could lodge itself in its initial target, your body collided with Rhys', knocking him out of the way and safely to the ground. Instead, the arrow lodged itself deep in your shoulder, burning like a thousand fires. You let out a guttural scream, immediately dropping to the ground.

Being part of the Inner Circle - the Court of Dreams - meant you were no stranger to pain, but this was unlike anything you ever thought existed. Very briefly, you recognized that Rhys had neutralized the threat and now hovered over your body.

His face was contorted in pain and tears clouded his eyes. He moved to pull the arrow from your body, but halted the moment he touched it. Your scream reverberated in the stone courtyard.

"y/n, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." he cried, never seeing you like this. Quickly, Rhys gathered you in his arms and winnowed back to Velaris and directly into the med wing. He prayed Madja could mend the wounds, and he blanched at the thought of Cassian discovering the events that had played out.

oOoOo

Meanwhile, in the Windhaven camp, Cassian was meeting with a handful of males, attempting to negotiate peace. His focus wavered, however, as a blinding wave of agony struck his heart through his bond. He froze on the spot, his heart stopped pumping blood. While on a mission, the two of you had agreed to keep the bond closed - for safety reasons. The fact that he could feel this immense pain, meant something very wrong had occurred.

"I-I have to go." Cassian mumbled, not bothering to offer any more explanation to the Illyrians - consequences be damned.

Immediately, he took to the skies and started the flight back to Velaris. The already long flight felt like it took an eternity. The wind strung at Cassian's cheeks as he soared, but the pain didn't register like the way the bond sung in pain.

Finally, Cass could see River House in his site, and when he finally entered the house, he was met with the site of his family huddled together in the sitting room. All eyes turned his way, a mixture of pity and concern as they looked at him.

"What happened? Where is y/n?" he demanded, fully stepping into his role as Lord of Bloodshed, eyes darkened and wings drawn out menacingly.

Before anyone could answer, another scream could be heard from the halls. Cassian's knees buckled, and he would have fallen to the floor if Azriel hadn't been standing by. Rhys blocked his path, unable to meet his brother's eye.

"She was attacked, brother. We were ambushed while visiting the Spring Court." Rhys whispered.

"And they attacked her?" Cass questioned, though he knew deep down that wasn't the case. When Rhys, or anyone else for that matter, refused to speak, Cassian growled. "What happened?"

Unable to speak, Rhysand gently scraped against Cassian's mental shields and projected to him the whole truth of what had happened at the Spring Court; the ambush, you pushing yourself into harm's way for the sake of Rhys, and the pain you felt from the moment the arrow struck your body.

As Rhys withdrew himself from his brother's mind, Cass drew, deep rugged breaths. The silence in the room was so thick it felt suffocating, but no one dared to move or speak first. However, instead of speaking, Cass pushed past everyone and demanded his way into your room to be by your side.

One look at your crumpled form, sent Cassian to his knees by your bedside. He reached out, hesitantly, to grasp your hand in his and allowed the tears to fall. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart." he mumbled.

Madja made herself known from the corner, approaching Cass the way one would a frightened animal. "The arrow she was shot with was laced with a terrible poison - much worse than faebane. I've done my best, but some of the poison already made it to her system."

"When will she wake up?" Cass asked, not allowing the possibility of you never waking to cross his lips.

The healer sighed deeply, looking over the famed general, now brought to his knees at the sight of his mate fighting for her life. "Only the Cauldron and Mother know. It will be up to y/n to bring herself back from the brink." Madja spoke slowly.

With a final, soothing touch to Cass's shoulder, Madja made her exit. Now off to deliver the same news to the rest of your waiting family.

"Please don't leave me. Y-you can't leave me." Cass whispered, clutching your hand. "I'm here with you every step of the way." he vowed.

oOoOo

And that was how it continued for the next four days as your body continued to try and heal itself from the inside out. Cass refused to move from the chair he had dragged to sit by your bed. Unwilling to leave your side for even a moment.

The rest of his family took turns sitting with you and Cass, bringing him meals, forcing him to at least take a bite. He knew that everyone else was suffering as well from your situation, but it felt like his heart was being torn apart, bit by bit, with each hour that passed and you still remained asleep.

He wasn't stupid. He knew the longer you went without improvement, the less likely it became you would heal. Cass heard the hushed conversations Mor and Azriel held outside your door, discussing what to do should the worst happen, Cauldron forbid.

It was on that fourth day that Cassian reached a tipping point. He heard the door creak open behind him, imagining it was Amren who would be sitting with him, based on the previous days' schedule.

What Cass had not anticipated was to see his High Lord approach the bed and pull a chair up on the opposite side of your bed. It was obvious to see the prominent dark circles that overtook Rhys's normally bright face, and the way his body and seemingly sunk into itself. But Cass could not bring himself to care for his brother's guilt or be the first to utter a word.

With a wave of his hand, Rhys summoned a tray of food for Cassian, and only sighed when he rejected the peace offering. Finally, Rhys found a sliver of courage and was the first to break the silence.

"Madja has yet to make headway on identifying the poison y/n was hit with, but she is not giving up. None of us are." he offered, unsure of how to breach the subject.

Rhysand could only imagine what Cassian was experiencing. The pain of losing Feyre had been so immense, but in a twisted sense, at least it had been quick. A blink of an eye and she was gone. Rhys didn't think he would have been strong enough to sit vigil, feeling her fade through the bond with each passing minute.

"Stop looking at me like she's already gone." Cass growled, eyes darkening towards Rhys.

"Brother, I only want to help her, and to support you."

"I think you've done quite enough. It's your fault she's even in this position to begin with." he spat, enjoying the way that Rhys flinched at his words.

"Now that's not fair, Cassian." Rhys tried to counter. "I never asked her to that for me."

Cass could only scoff at the High Lord's response. "Of course, you didn't have to ask. You're the fucking High Lord, of course she was going to risk her life for you. Isn't that we all do here?"

"All of you, y/n including, knew what you were getting into, what the dangers were, when you swore allegiance to my court. You don't get to throw that back on me. You think this doesn't hurt me just as it hurts you?"

"No, it fucking doesn't!" Cassian screamed, his blood boiling at this point. "Because you use us like your puppets to protect you and your mate-"

"Careful how you continue, Cassian." Rhysand warned, not caring for slander against his mate, even in Cass's state of grief.

"Ever since this "death bargain" you and Feyre struck, it's like the rest of us don't matter. All we do is making sure your asses aren't killed because Cauldron forbid the saviors of Prythian are stolen from us." Cassian blazed on. "Yes, you've lost your mate before, Rhys, but she came back to you, and you to her.

"Who will remake y/n if she can't fight this? You and your High Lady are so far up on your pedestal that you don't know what it's like for the rest of us. Yes, we understood what our duties would entail, but that doesn't mean we have to continue to stand for this." Cassian spat, finally allowing years of pent-up fear and anger to spill over.

With one last, murderous, glare, Cassian turned his back on Rhysand, letting his words ring out for all in the House to hear. His wings stretched out behind him, hiding both you and he from Rhys, the Night Court, and the rest of the world. If it was to only be the two of you against everyone else from that point on, so be it.

part 2

oOoOo

a/n: part 2?

#cassian x reader #cassian imagine #actoar cassian x reader #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #rita writes

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nataliasquote · 3 months

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Tattoos for troubled minds | n romanoff

Summary: Natasha struggles to trust anyone when it comes to touching her body. But that becomes rather difficult when a tattoo idea comes into her mind that she just can’t shake

Warnings: mentions of scars, tattoo needles, slight internalised homophobia

wc: 3.6k

note: I don’t actually have tattoos (despite wanting one so badly) so this is probably really inaccurate. I do apologise if this doesn’t make sense. also, I hate this so much but the guilt of not posting is eating me alive so I’m sorry

-⧗-

Natasha was a quiet soul. She kept to herself, usually sitting at her own table in the Shield cafeteria, eyes focused on her plate of food as she ate quickly, just wanting to get out of there. None of the other agents dared make conversation with her, too spooked by her fighting skills to approach. But that didn’t bother her. Her hyper independence made her hesitant to trust people.

Clint was the only one she spoke to outside of working hours. They weren’t exactly friends, but she tolerated him enough to flash a small smile if she saw him in the hallways or feel slightly relaxed if they were paired for missions together.

And he liked her too, especially since her first words had been a jab at his choice of weapon.

“Bow and arrow? What did you do, get your training in a forest?”

But he didn’t take offense to it. After all, he’d made the call to save her and she owed him her life. Which is how, two years later, she was sprawled on his couch, chewing on take out pizza for the second time that week with a scowl.

“I think I want a tattoo.”

Clint frowned at her, wondering where her brain cells had disappeared to. “What?”

“You know, the permanent drawing-“

“Yes I know what a tattoo is Tasha,” he rolled his eyes at her teasing smirk, already over her sarcasm. “But you know it’s a bad idea for spies to have unique markings like that.”

Natasha shrugged, tugging up her sleeve to reveal a strange shaped scar across her bicep. “I’d say I’ve got enough of those naturally. And it would be hidden on my ribs or something.”

Clint just shook his head and turned back to his food. He was used to Natasha’s odd comments and her tattoo phase probably wouldn’t last in his eyes. Just like her ‘wanting to be blonde’ phase didn’t.

But it didn’t end. A month later and Natasha had fallen down the rabbit hole that was tattoo designs on pinterest, courtesy of a fellow agent who introduced her to the app. She didn’t understand it at first, but now it was 3am and her tablet screen was still glaring bright in her face, a plethora of images scattered across her screen.

She saved a couple to a board, now set on design and placement, before placing it to one side with a grin on her face. Natasha climbed out of bed and padded over to her mirror, pulling up her shirt and smiling softly to herself. But the dim lamplight made her scars glisten and she caught herself, a sudden feeling of repulsion shuddering through her body. She looked like a freak and no tattoo artist would want to go near that. Her scars weren’t normal and she wasn’t ready for the questions yet.

Tears glazed her eyes over and her arms snaked across her stomach, her reflection in the mirror now blurry. Even as the salty tears dripped down her cheeks and soaked the collar of her shirt, she didn’t step away, too engrossed with how disgusting she felt in her body.

That stubborn hope that the redroom failed to squash out had ignited inside her once more, except this time she just wanted to laugh at it. Natasha would never be normal. She was what they’d made her into, and a tattoo was never going to change that.

Clint noticed the change in her demeanor when she sat down at breakfast. Natasha barely engaged in her usual small talk, more focused on her food in front of her.

“Did you do anymore tattoo research yesterday?” He asked, knowing that would catch her attention. But instead of the usual spark, she remained dejected, stirring her yogurt half heartedly.

“Yeah,” came her response, albeit rather forced.

“There’s probably a lot of places in DC that would kill to tattoo a shield agent.” Nat shot him a look. “Just saying!”

“Sure. But I don’t think I can anymore.”

Clint looked at her with a frown. “Why not?”

Natasha just looked down and tugged at her sleeve, suddenly feeling exposed in her tight fitting suit. The image in the mirror from last night came into her mind and she pushed her food away, no longer hoodie. And beside that, she didn’t trust people she worked with, so how would she trust a complete stranger to add something permanent on her body? Getting a tattoo would be nothing but a dream for her, she knew that, but it still crushed her.

Clint studied his best friend for a moment in thought, before he placed his hand gently on her arm. “I might know someone who can help.” Natasha looked up, now interested. Her face was still stony but Clint knew she was excited. “A friend of Laura’s, we helped her out even before you came here.”

“An agent?” Clint hadn’t mentioned anyone like that before and it confused Natasha.

But Clint shook his head. “No, nothing like that. She came to Laura and I when she was a teenager and had nowhere else to go. And you know my wife-“

“Can’t let anyone suffer,” Natasha finished for him, warmth spreading in her stomach at the thought of the soft woman she’d grown to adore. Laura really did have the biggest heart out of everyone.

“Exactly that. Y/n was fourteen, I think, parents kicked her out of the house. How she got to ours, I’ll never know, but she just appeared on the doorstep one night and Laura melted at the sight of her.” Clint’s expression softened at the memory. “But anyway, what I’m saying is that she’s a tattoo artist. She’s got trust issues just like you and I think she’ll help.”

Natasha scowled at the last part, wanting to protest his comment. But she knew he was right; her trust issues were what got her into this mess in the first place.

“But she’s a kid?”

“No, almost the same age as you,” Clint said with a laugh. “You’ll like her, but she can be a little scary.”

“Scarier than me?”

Clint smirked. “Oh, you’d be surprised. That glare of hers rivals yours.” This vague description intrigued Natasha and Clint could see the cogs turning in her mind. “She knows what we do and she’s seen my scars. Trust me, they won’t put her off.”

Natasha’s head shot up, staring at her best friend with confusion. Was she that easy to read? Or did he just know her too well?

~~~

With the news of her favourite girls coming back home, Laura had been in a frenzy of cleaning and preparing. Clint had texted to say he was only minutes away so she left the dishes to soak and headed to the porch, anxiously staring at the track beside their house as she waited.

Anyone would have thought she was married to Natasha over Clint by the difference in reactions she gave them. Sure, Clint got a kiss and a hug, but Natasha truly got the special treatment, with Laura scanning her to make sure she wasn’t injured and quizzing her about how she was. Poor Clint was left to grab their bags as the women disappeared into the farmhouse.

Tea was poured and snacks were eaten in the cosy kitchen before the doorbell rang and Laura excused herself, leaving an anxious Natasha on her own for a moment. Muffled voices could be heard but she tried to go against her instincts of listening in and instead busied herself with a loose thread on the tablecloth. She heard footsteps approaching and turned in her chair, ignoring the way her heart thumped loudly in her chest.

The woman who walked in the kitchen doorway was stunning, Natasha couldn’t deny it, and her eyes darted to the patchwork of tattoos that littered her exposed arms. Their eyes met, and Natasha swore she could see the walls up in the other woman’s mind. But it didn’t scare her off. No. It brought her a weird sense of comfort and her body started to relax.

Clad in a black cropped tank and black cargo pants, Y/n hesitated in the doorway, duffle bag slung over her shoulder hitting the wall gently. Laura appeared behind her, gentle hands falling to her shoulders.

“Y/n, this is Natasha, the one I told you about.” The y/h/c girl made no effort to move. “She’s Clint’s partner.” Clearly not much of a talker, Y/n just nodded, not hiding the fact she was scanning Natasha from head to toe. She didn’t trust strangers, but she trusted Laura and Clint who seemed to love Natasha. So maybe she wasn’t a threat.

“Hi, you can call me Nat if you want.” No one called her Nat except Laura, but it was a feeble attempt to make the atmosphere more comfortable. Another nod came but Laura smiled.

“Do you want to go set up? All of your stuff is still exactly where you left it,” Laura addressed Y/n who adjusted the grip on her bag and disappeared down the hall without a word. Natasha’s eyebrows raised at Laura who watched her go, a fond look in her eyes. “She does speak, I promise.”

Natasha shook her head, brushing her off. “It’s fine, don’t worry. I can tell you care about her a lot.”

“She’s like a daughter to me, kind of like you are.” Natasha’s cheeks flushed at that. “She doesn’t have anyone except us, so I worry. She’s a real sweetheart though, she’s just been through a lot. Kind of like someone else I know.”

“I’ll be kind, don’t worry.”

Laura couldn’t help but smile as she stirred her tea. “Oh I know. She already likes you, you don’t need to worry about that.”

Natasha let out a sigh and started to play with the hem of her zip up jacket. It suddenly felt real, the whole tattoo thing. And whilst she weirdly trusted Y/n, it didn’t help ease her nerves any less.

The redhead sensed a new presence before she spotted her, standing in the doorway just like she was before.

“Ready when you are, Nat.” Her voice was slightly raspy from lack of use and she spoke quietly, almost as if she was scared she’d get into trouble. Natasha smiled softly at the sound of her nickname and squeezed Laura’s hand before she followed the y/h/c girl down the hallway of the house she considered her second home.

Clint’s office had been turned into a makeshift tattoo studio with all new equipment and furniture decorating the small space. The tattoo bed had a fresh paper layer on top and Y/n gestured for Natasha to take a seat.

“Ok, do you have an idea of what you want? And where?” Y/n sat down at a small table and picked up her pen before looking at Natasha expectantly.

“I’ve got a couple of reference pictures on my phone.” The small device was handed over and Y/n swiped between them, nodding in approval before setting it down. “The last one is just for placement ideas.”

“I’ll work up a sketch and you can tell me what needs changing.” Luckily Natasha’s design was incredibly simple and it didn’t take long for Y/n to hold up her page.

Natasha slid off the bed and slowly walked over, not wanting to startle the skittish girl. But Y/n just moved over, clearly welcoming the redhead into her space.

“I love that a lot,” Natasha praised, studying the simple lines. “But maybe it could be a bit smaller.”

“I can scale it down when I make the stencil, no problem. But is the design alright? Remember, it is permanent so I want you to be completely happy with it.”

Natasha studied it for a moment, a smile tugging at her lips as she imagined it on her body. Y/n had talent, anyone could see that even from such a simple drawing, and Natasha nodded before she slid the notebook back to her.

“I love it, I really do.”

Y/n nodded, grabbing her stencil paper from a drawer by her leg. She wordlessly began making the stencil and Natasha took this as her cue to return to her seat. She peered around the room, admiring a few pictures that were on the walls. Incredibly complicated tattoos which she guessed Y/n had done.

The young girl sketching away in the corner thoroughly interested her and something inside Natasha was drawn in. She wanted to get to know her because aside from the shy and hesitant exterior she was effortlessly cool and seemed sweet. Maybe Y/n could be the start of Natasha’s project to make friends.

“If you lie back on the seat and lift your shirt, we can make sure this is exactly how you want it before I start.”

Natasha took a deep breath and slowly lifted her shirt and lowered the waistband of her sweatpants so her hip bone was exposed. She shivered despite the room being warm, fully aware that her nastiest scar was on full display on her lower stomach.

But Y/n didn’t care. Or at least she didn’t make it obvious if it bothered her. “Is it ok if I touch your hip?” She asked, looking Natasha straight in the eyes. The redhead almost melted at her words, not used to ever being asked that question.

“Of course, do what you need.” Y/n’s fingers were soft and delicate as she placed the stencil on Natasha’s skin. She didn’t touch anywhere she didn’t need to and worked quickly, making sure it was fully stuck down before stepping back to allow Natasha to step over to the mirror.

Although it wasn’t permanent, Natasha’s heart was racing as she saw the way the black ink stood out against her pale skin. The symbol was small but perfect in her eyes, and she turned back to Y/n with a grin.

“It’s perfect!”

“Then I’ll get started.”

Due to the design being so small, it took no more than fifteen minutes for Y/n to complete. Her hand was incredibly steady and Natasha’s pain tolerance was so high she barely felt it. The room was silent aside from the faint buzzing, no conversation stemming from either woman. Questions spiralled around Natasha’s head but she knew this wasn’t the place to ask them.

Completely lost in her head, Natasha failed to notice the silence or the fact that her hip bone was no longer burning. Y/n kept working, wiping away the excess ink and making sure she hadn’t missed a spot. But it was perfect, as usual, and she gently tapped Nat on the thigh to snap her out of her head.

“You’re now free to look.”

Natasha grinned and hopped off the bed, holding up her shirt again as she looked in the mirror. Tears almost sprung to her eyes as she admired the finished product, and they probably would have tumbled down her cheeks if she had been alone.

A small spider sat on the front of her hip, legs slightly bent. It looked so delicate on her skin and for the first time in her entire life, Natasha actually liked looking at herself in the mirror.

“It’s so beautiful,” she began to ramble, unable to tear her eyes away. “You’ve got real talent Y/n, I can’t thank you enough. It’s so perfect.”

Y/n blushed and couldn’t stop the smile that graced her lips, catching Natasha’s eyes in the mirror and making the redhead freeze.

Her smile.

The young woman hadn’t smiled the entire time she’d arrived, but seeing her now was like a breath of fresh air. Smiling looked so good on her and Natash couldn’t get enough.

“If you want to show Laura, you can, but you’ll need to come back so I can wrap it safely.” Natasha glanced at her new addition and nodded, but hesitated once she was by the door.

“I think you should come too. The artist and her artwork.” Natasha spoke with a smirk and Y/n couldn’t ever imagine saying no to that woman. So she nodded again, her usual response, and meekly followed her back down the hall, pulling off her gloves as she walked.

Laura was already waiting for them in the kitchen and she placed her reading glasses in her hair to get a good look at Natasha who still hadn’t dropped her shirt down. She’d never seen the Russian with such a wide grin before, her usual collected expression completely out of the window.

“It looks beautiful, Nat, truly. You did such a good job Y/n.”

“You never told me how talented she is!” Natasha stepped to the side to allow Y/n to come forward, but the humble woman stayed where she was, already hating the attention. She didn’t see her art as talent, more like a form of escapism. But it made people happy and that was all she wanted.

“I wanted you to see for yourself,” Laura replied. “And besides, she never believes me when I tell her how good she is.”

“You’re really easy to tattoo. You don’t squirm or cry like other people do, so really I should be thanking you.” Laura was taken aback by Y/n’s comment, not used to more than three words coming out of the girl’s mouth. But the more she observed her, the more she saw her change. The darkness she’d noticed since Y/n was a teenager had lifted a little and she seemed a lot less guarded, looking over at Natasha with a soft expression.

And Natasha looked back at her just the same, purely in awe of how gentle she was. As Y/n gestured for them to return to the office and offered to hold Nat’s shirt, Laura felt like squealing like a child.

Two of her favourite people in the world had found each other and, despite both being so broken and fragile, fit together so perfectly it was like they were made for each other.

Natasha was strong enough and sure of herself enough for the both of them, and Y/n treated her with such delicacy and care that it slowly broke away Natasha’s trust issues and allowed her to open up. And Natasha’s protective nature came out around the other woman, wanting to keep her safe from the world.

With a quick word about going to show Clint, Natasha disappeared into the front yard with her newly wrapped hip, leaving Y/n to find Laura again. The older woman welcomed her with a hug and pulled a chair close to her own.

“You like her, don’t you?”

Y/n kept her gaze on the crossword Laura was doing, not wanting her eyes to give her away if she looked up. “She’s nice.”

“Hey,” Laura said softly, carefully taking Y/n’s hand in her own. She didn’t miss the way she flinched but unfortunately she was used to that by now. “You’re not back there. You’re allowed to like her if that’s what you want and feel. She’s a good person, but so are you, you don’t need to be scared.”

Y/n’s eyes followed where their hands were clasped up to Laura’s face, trying to find any hints that showed she was lying. But all that came back was the soft and caring face she’d grown to love, one that didn’t lie to her and didn’t hate her for who she was.

“I don’t like her like that.” Call her a hypocrite for lying, but Y/n had her reasons. Loving a woman was still unnatural in her eyes, despite her contrasting feelings that longed for it.

“Y/n…” Laura’s ‘mom’ tone was one she was used to and she knew she was caught out. “I’m not asking you to tell me now, but you deserve happiness, as does she. And I haven’t seen either of you that relaxed in a really long time. So please don’t push her away.”

Y/n didn’t know what to think. How could she? Her whole life had centred around hating who she was, so how could anyone ever like her like that? It messed with her head and Laura could see that.

But what was Natasha if not a life saver. She came strolling into the kitchen, her tshirt now tucked up into the band of her sports bra to allow her tattoo to be on full display. Y/n smiled slightly at the sight.

Sinking down into the chair beside her, Natasha noticed the clasped hands of the women and wondered what she’d interrupted. But that wasn’t her place to ask, so she turned to Y/n.

“How can I pay you? How much do you charge?”

Y/n shook her head frantically, pulling her hand away from Laura. “Nothing, honestly. You’re a friend, it’s no big deal.”

“Absolutely not. If you won’t take money, at least let me repay you another way.”

“Nat-“

“Dinner? How about you let me take you to dinner next week. You’re from the city, right?” Y/n nodded, her brows creasing. She turned to Laura for help but the older woman just smiled widely and nodded, giving her as much non verbal encouragement as she could. “Please, Y/n?”

She’d said yes before she could even process what was going on. After all, they were just friends going to dinner. People in the movies that she’d seen did it, so she could too.

What was so wrong with that?

#natasha romanoff #fanfic #marvel #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff fluff #tattoos #clint barton

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hiraiologist · 4 months

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keep you in my mouth (and hope to never take you out)

hirai momo x f!reader

synopsis: at first it’s a party. then it’s a study session. then it’s like you’re addicted to her, and you find yourself caught up in everything that is hirai momo.

tags/warnings: ambiguous location but college/university setting, alcohol, drugs, parties, mentions of throwing up, smut (strap, cunnilingus, overstimulation, begging), fluff!, light degradation (reader is referred to as whore and slut lul), friends to lovers, switch!momo ??? idk but momo’s the best girl :]

a/n: i haven’t written for fun in… over 5 years? not since i was in high school… so i'm extremely out of practice SORRY! i’ve definitely regressed (T_T) i wanted this to just be a quick way to get back into writing, so its not all that articulate or anything. i started this last thursday when i was off work bc i was sick and bored, and i was gonna post it over the weekend but then with seollal and going back to work, i kinda forgot about it. partially ib my own college experience :p i feel obligated to say don’t do drugs and don’t drink underage but…! title from flashing room by 2am club. not proofread!

the resounding thump of the bass sinks into your skin, replacing the steady beat beneath your ribs.

you feel a body next to you—someone’s pushing past you across the room, their sweat smearing across your exposed forearm. it’s damp and uncomfortably cool, an off-putting and striking contrast to the heat of the crowd. you stop dancing and frown. you turn to your left, pinching a piece of your friend’s shirt between your fingers, wiping the sweat onto the dark fabric. chaeyoung stops moving to the music and swats your hand away.

“what are you doing?”

“someone touched me,” you wrinkle your nose. “it was sweaty.”

“so you wiped it on me instead?” the shorter girl glares up at you, though her eyes twinkle with mirth—or maybe it’s just the reflection from the led light strips on the walls. she pulls out her phone to check the time. “i need another drink before we go. c’mon, let’s go find tzuyu and dahyun.”

you shrug as the two of you link fingers and begin to find your way back to the makeshift bar for more drinks. you’re already drunk—yooyeon’s playing bartender tonight and you’ve been taking advantage of it as much as possible.

“ladies,” yooyeon greets as you approach her table. she spreads her hands over a few stacks of cups filled with red liquid. “what can i get you this time?”

the options are pretty limited. actually, there’s really only one option: a delightfully strong mixture of jungle juice made oh so lovingly by yooyeon and jiwon.

“you’re hilarious,” you say flatly as you roll your eyes at her. she just cackles and starts fixing up two new cups. “have i ever told you that you’re my favorite bartender?”

“that’ll break jiwon’s heart,” she replies with a laugh. “but i won’t tell if you won’t.” she holds out the drinks with both hands.

chaeyoung accepts one of the cups and takes a long swig. “hey, we’re actually probably heading out soon. going to a kickback with some friends,” she says to yooyeon. you take the other cup and swallow some of the jungle juice. it’s your third cup of the night, so maybe you’re just drunk, but it tastes divine. you’re pretty sure that, at the very least, it tastes better than the tequila shots you’d downed earlier with chaeyoung before leaving your apartment.

yooyeon pouts. “why?” she leans in towards the two of you. “don’t go. you guys practically just got here.”

you shake your head. “no can do. we promised jihyo we’d go to her place tonight.” on another night, you might stay, watch jiwon do a few lines in the bathroom, drink more alcohol until your vision starts to blur, maybe let yooyeon or jiwon—or both—put delicate hands up your shirt and leave bruises on your hips. tonight, though, you’re going to a kickback held by one of your closest friends, jihyo, and you’ll consume enough substances to ensure you wake up with your head pounding, mouth dry, body aching all over.

it’s going to be fun, you think to yourself. you chug some more jungle juice, finishing your cup more quickly than you’d intended. chaeyoung’s texting tzuyu, instructing her to meet you guys by yooyeon’s setup. as the alcohol sets into your bloodstream, your skin warms, a muted blush settling on your cheeks.

chaeyoung spots tzuyu and dahyun walking towards yooyeon’s table and waves them over. yooyeon pours two more drinks and offers them out to your friends as they approach.

“thanks yooyeon!” tzuyu happily tips her cup back into her mouth. dahyun does the same, though she only takes a small mouthful. you’re pretty sure she’s sober. you’ve been at the house for about an hour, but you know she’s only been occasionally stealing sips from everybody’s drinks instead of just getting one of her own. really, you’re a little grateful that she’s not drunk—you know that by the end of the night, most of you will be too inebriated to get home properly without help. dahyun’s always been a little less raucous than the rest of the girls, but it doesn’t seem to bother her. dahyun hands her barely-touched cup to you to finish and you flash her a playful grin with a wink.

“finish your drinks and we’ll go. i’ll go ahead and call an uber now,” dahyun directs while pulling out her phone. the rest of you nod and tap your cups together in a cheers. a few moments pass before dahyun slips her phone back into her pocket and announces, “okay, he’ll be here in… six minutes. jihyo said nayeon and mina are already there.”

yooyeon makes eye contact with you. “will you guys come back later?” her eyes are hopeful, bright—she’s more a puppy than a party girl. but you’d rather be with your other friends, so you just shoot her an apologetic expression.

“not tonight,” you shake your head. “but maybe we’ll see you later this weekend or something?”

before yooyeon can respond, you hear someone squeal from a few feet away. “guys! what are you doing here?” you all turn to find sana skipping towards your group, a huge smile on her face.

“sana!” the four of you yell simultaneously, pulling her into hugs with each of you. she’s beaming wildly. you didn’t know she was here; if you’d seen her earlier, you would’ve dragged her onto the dance floor and probably made her your drinking buddy. sana’s a little older than you and she’s infinitely cool. you’d met her at a party last year, where she’d pulled trig for chaeyoung after knowing her for about an hour. you’d all instantly fallen for her, and she was a welcome addition to your group. sana was confidence and optimism wrapped in sex on legs—but she was also undeniably cute, with her bubbly personality and squishy cheeks. she’d easily become one of your closest confidants, spending time with you every week, showering you with affection and giving you advice whenever you were struggling. her status as a social butterfly also meant that she has a lot of other friends, so your group of four—you, tzuyu, chaeyoung, and dahyun—had rapidly expanded to a group of ten, with sana bringing her best friend momo into the fold, then jihyo, mina, jeongyeon, and nayeon with them. but sana’s infinite list of friends turns her into a pretty busy girl, so when chaeyoung had invited her out with you all tonight, she’d politely declined, stating her previously-arranged plans with momo and jeongyeon.

“i thought you were hanging out with jeongyeon and momo?” you look at sana in excitement.

“i am! well, jeongyeon had to go home early because she’s got a test tomorrow morning, but momo’s here. she’s talking to yoona right now,” sana points a few feet away at momo, engrossed in conversation with another girl you vaguely recognize. “wait, this is great! we can all hang out!”

“actually,” tzuyu interjects, “we’re leaving right now. but we’re heading to jihyo’s! nayeon and mina are there right now. will you come with us?”

“i’m down, but let me ask momo,” she giggles before bounding towards the older girl. she taps the girl on the shoulder and yoona offers them both a wave, walking off to find her friends in another room. sana starts to talk to momo; after a moment, she points over at your group and momo turns to glance at you all. her gaze seems to drag over you slowly. then she looks back at sana and says something, prompting sana to grin and tug at her arm, dragging the girl towards you. dahyun, chaeyoung, and tzuyu all give her a quick hug and big smiles.

momo pulls you into a hug last, her firm arms wrapped around you tightly as sana exclaims, “momo said she’s down to go to jihyo’s!”

“we should probably head outside, then,” dahyun suggests. “it would suck if we missed our uber.” you all nod and start to find your way to the door. you quickly turn towards yooyeon and send her a wave. the girl perks up and shoots you a smile before you turn back around and follow chaeyoung out the house to the front.

you all stand outside, chatting idly amongst yourselves as dahyun watches for the right car to pull up. eventually, she spots what must be your uber and walks up to the vehicle, waving at the driver as they roll down their window. the rest of you trail behind her.

“for dahyun?” when the driver nods, she continues, “uh, so we have six people, actually. is that okay?” dahyun smiles sheepishly at the uber driver and bites her lip. he looks at you all warily and sighs.

“yeah, sure. it’s not like we’re going very far, i guess.”

tzuyu climbs into the passenger seat while chaeyoung scoots into the middle seat in the back. dahyun takes the seat to the right of chaeyoung, with sana climbing into her lap naturally. you quickly realize your predicament as the rest of the girls settle into the uber. you turn to momo and say, “you can sit on me. if that’s okay.”

the girl’s cheeks instantly turn the prettiest shade of pink you’ve ever seen. “oh! um, okay. sure. thanks.”

you open the door on the left and climb into the last seat. once you’re seated, you look back at momo and smile. she quickly gets in, sitting awkwardly on your lap. you reach for the door handle with one hand, close the door, then snake your hand around the girl’s waist, pulling her towards you more tightly. she squeaks a little, but shifts her body more to settle comfortably against you. your uber driver eyes you all in the backseat with a tired expression before driving off slowly.

“this top looks really good on you, by the way,” you say, lips twitching into a small grin. you play a little with the ends of her hair before dropping your fingers to brush along her shirt. she stares at the floor.

“thanks,” she replies quietly. her cheeks are red when she looks up and her eyes dart away when she notices you’re looking at her face.

the rest of the ride is filled by your friends’ conversations and your driver’s playlist coming low through the speakers of the car, your fingers rubbing circles into momo’s hip soothingly as you feel her take quiet, even breaths. you’re almost disappointed when the uber stops in front of jihyo’s apartment.

when you arrive at jihyo’s door, jihyo welcomes you all with a hug and ushers you inside. she leads you to the kitchen, where nayeon and mina are chatting next to the table covered with an array of drinks. you greet nayeon and mina with hugs as well, chatting with them for a minute before you decide to make a few cherry bombs for everyone. the girls seem to have found their spots in the apartment: tzuyu, dahyun, and chaeyoung are sitting on the floor in jihyo’s living room while sana and momo fumble with jihyo’s speaker system, squabbling over jihyo’s phone to try to queue up a few more songs. nayeon, jihyo, and mina continue to chat while they watch you in the kitchen as you mix cherry vodka with redbull. when you’ve prepared a few shot glasses, you offer them to nayeon and jihyo, knowing mina won’t be drinking. you all quickly down your shots and nayeon and jihyo excuse themselves to go find a game to play, leaving you in the kitchen with mina. she offers to take two of the shots over to sana and momo, and you agree. you grab the remaining three shots, find dahyun, chaeyoung, and tzuyu in the living room, and watch as they knock back their cherry bombs.

you plop down on the floor next to chaeyoung, letting out an excited giggle when she produces a small tin from her pocket and pulls out a perfectly rolled joint. as she lights it and begins to take a hit, you look towards the speaker where you spot sana and momo laughing with mina. you observe them for a moment before you feel chaeyoung tapping at your shoulder, offering you the joint. you take a hit and hand it back to chaeyoung. dahyun and tzuyu get up; you vaguely register them saying something about finding some ping pong balls. you and chaeyoung chat quietly, asking “would you rather” questions, passing the joint back and forth until eventually it’s reduced to nothing and you’re forced to stub it out. by now, the combination of the weed and alcohol has you feeling light and slightly dizzy, but it’s pleasant and you’re smiling a little dopily. chaeyoung pulls you up with her when she sees tzuyu across the room, setting up a table to play beer pong.

“tzu! i wanna play!” chaeyoung exclaims happily. “can i play?”

“sure,” the taller girl agrees easily. “you can be my partner. y/n, wanna play?”

“wait, who else is playing?”

tzuyu shrugs. “go find someone!” you glance around; mina’s sitting on the couch with dahyun, both tapping away at their phones. nayeon and jihyo are sitting at the table in the kitchen, already playing some kind of card game. you start to walk off to look for sana and momo and tzuyu calls after you, “oh, get sana! she needs to get on our level!”

you find sana in the kitchen with momo. you quickly grab another cup, mixing vodka with soda haphazardly, taking a big gulp as you bound up to sana. “i’m drunk,” you state the obvious with a giggle. “and you need to catch up! let’s play beer pong with chae and tzuyu!” you point your cup towards sana, who giggles back at you, takes the cup, shares a look with momo.

“thanks, y/n!” she hums as she sips at the drink. “actually, i think you might regret recruiting me for beer pong,” she winks at you and hands your cup to momo, who tilts her head at you for approval. you nod quickly and she takes a long drink before handing the cup back to you. “but momo would love to be your partner tonight!”

you beam at the other girl hopefully. “would you really? please?” momo looks at you with wide eyes, seemingly caught off guard. she sneaks a glance at sana, who just bats her eyes innocently.

“oh, sure,” she agrees quickly. “i’m down.” you cheer as you grab her hand and guide her towards the table where chaeyoung and tzuyu are setting up the cups and pouring beer into each one. you chug a bit more of your drink, which has dwindled down to just a few more mouthfuls. you offer the rest to momo, then pout when you realize you don’t have anything else to drink, making sana laugh from behind you. she walks back to the kitchen as you and momo take your places at one end of the table, chaeyoung and tzuyu at the other. it’s decided that you and momo will go first. momo gestures at you to go ahead, and you grab one of the ping pong balls and eye the pyramid of cups across from you.

before you can toss the ball, sana returns with two new drinks, places one on the small table by the couch. she points at it and says, “that’s for you, y/n. when you’re done playing.” she takes a sip from the other drink still in her hand.

“thanks,” you nod at her words, focusing intently on your form. you decide to just go for it, casually arching the ball forward, watching as it sinks cleanly into one of the cups in front of tzuyu. “yes!”

momo whoops. “nice.” she offers her hand out for a high-five. tzuyu takes the cup, removes the ball, drinks the beer. momo quickly finishes off the drink you’d given her, adding it to the cup tzuyu drank to start a stack on the side, then moves to take her shot. she hesitates for quite a while before eventually throwing the ball. it bounces off the side of one cup, but falls into the one next to it. you cheer loudly as momo’s eyes widen and she turns to face you, a giddy expression on her face. you sneak a quick peck on her cheek, delight in the way the skin pinkens immediately as momo looks at you bashfully. chaeyoung takes the cup out, removing the ball before downing the contents inside. she boos half-heartedly but she’s smiling as she hands both ping pong balls back to you.

you immediately toss one across the table. it bounces off a cup and drops onto the table. you pout. “ugh. got too cocky. redeem us, momo!” but momo misses her shot, too, so you hand the balls to chaeyoung and tzuyu.

tzuyu tosses her ball quickly and it immediately falls into a cup in front of you. you grab the cup, take the ball out, drink the beer, add the cup to the stack. chaeyoung takes her position, squinting momentarily across the table before shooting the ball, landing it in a cup next to momo. the older girl grabs the cup, takes the ball out and hands it back to chaeyoung before tossing the beer back into her mouth. a droplet of beer shines at the corner of her mouth. without thinking, you lean forward and wipe at it with your finger before popping it into your mouth to clean it off. momo stares at you, but you don’t seem to notice. tzuyu and chaeyoung take their shots again. tzuyu lands her ball in a cup—momo drinks it quickly—but chaeyoung misses hers. they hand the balls back to you and momo. you arc one ball perfectly into a cup. momo’s turn is kind of disastrous; she throws the ball towards the cups, but it ends up smacking chaeyoung in the tit.

“sorry!” momo squeaks. chaeyoung just laughs and waves her off. the game keeps going, but it quickly becomes obvious that chaeyoung and tzuyu are going to win. you only land your ball into the cups two more times, and momo misses every shot she takes, looking all the more distracted as each round passes. eventually, you and momo lose pretty spectacularly. jihyo and nayeon push you both out of the way to take on chaeyoung and tzuyu.

disgruntled, you grab the drink sana made for you and take a gulp. “i can’t believe we lost!” you wail as momo follows you to the kitchen.

momo shrugs. “we’ll get ’em next time,” she promises, wrapping her arms around you from behind. you settle against her with a sigh.

“you’re so…” you gesture a little vaguely at her body, “comfy?” you finish, pulling momo’s arms around you even tighter. “like, you’re firm. you have really nice muscles and... you know. but you’re super cozy.” she hums in your ear as you lift your cup to your lips again.

“thanks,” she laughs. “i mean, i eat a lot. but i work out a lot too.”

“oh, i’ve noticed. your body always looks so good,” you continue absentmindedly before you pull away from her to look her in the eyes, slightly embarrassed. “i—it’s not like i stare. i just mean i wish i had your athleticism, you know? i don’t really know how to work out, and i don’t have a whole lot of stamina.” that causes momo’s mouth to twitch into a subtle smirk and you flush. your tongue suddenly feels very dry, and you’re not exactly sure it’s cotton mouth.

“well, maybe i could help you with that,” momo quips before she steals a bit of your drink and starts to move to the music blaring from jihyo’s speaker, and it pushes you to dance as well. after a song or two, momo’s hands make their way around your waist and you let your arms wrap around her neck, your cup dangling over her shoulder. it registers in your mind that you like this—like momo pressed against your body, like big brown eyes twinkling as she grins at you, like momo’s laugh vibrating against your chest. you smile at her as you dance together, your friends jumping and singing along to the music around you as they toss ping pong balls at each other.

everyone else seems to be preoccupied, not paying any attention to you and momo. you hardly realize that momo’s been guiding you towards the bathroom until she pushes the door open, closes it behind you, shoves you against the wall. her eyes bore into yours, looking for your approval before she leans in to kiss you. you close the distance, bringing a hand up to cradle her jaw. it feels incredibly intimate as she runs a hand from your neck down your side, eventually resting it on your hip. you continue to kiss her softly, sighing into her mouth as she lets out quiet hums of approval. after a while, she licks into your mouth, nips at your bottom lip, and you gasp as things begin to progress quickly from there.

her teeth tug at the skin of your throat. you try to suppress a moan, but it rips out of your mouth before you can stop it, and momo laughs, kisses you again. “maybe,” she breathes against your lips, “we should get out of here.” you nod enthusiastically, connect your lips again, savor the taste of her peach chapstick. you follow her out of the bathroom. you go to the front door, grabbing your belongings while momo walks up to the rest of the girls, all still either dancing or playing beer pong, says to them, “i think y/n isn’t feeling great. maybe she drank too much? and i’m kind of tired anyway, so i’m gonna take her home. we’ll see you later.” she leans in to whisper something privately to sana, who squeals and shoves momo’s shoulder. then sana waves you both off, turning back to cheer jihyo on as she tosses a ping pong ball into a cup.

and then you’re out the door, stumbling as you walk the few short minutes to momo’s place, giggling as momo pulls you into her arms every few steps to kiss you exuberantly.

you’ve never actually been to momo’s apartment, you realize. it’s nice; it’s relatively simple, a comfortable lived-in vibe filling the space. in the back of your mind, behind the haze of tequila shots, jungle juice, cherry bombs, beer, and weed, you remember that this isn’t just momo’s apartment—this is also sana and nayeon’s new apartment, the three having just moved in together recently.

you follow momo to one of the rooms, presumably hers. as she punches the numbers into her keypad, you take a moment to check your phone. you have a text from chaeyoung.

text me when you get home please, it reads.

not sure when i’ll be home but i’m okay! i’m at momo’s, you respond before following momo through the door.

quietly, you take a moment to observe momo’s room. it’s cozy, photos adorning the walls along with a bunch of figurines momo must like. there are a few drawings hung on the walls, too, and if you lean in, you can see on each of them a signature that looks kind of like momo’s name.

before you can get a closer look, though, momo’s running her fingers down your arm, pressing feather-light kisses against the back of your neck and your shoulders. you turn and wrap your arms around her neck, pulling her into a proper kiss as she settles her hands along your waist. she kisses you with vigor, smiling as you respond just as fervently. she pushes you lightly, the backs of your knees hitting her mattress, making you fall backwards onto the bed. she makes quick work of your clothes, pulling your top and pants off as she kisses down your skin. momo takes her shirt off and you stare at her muscular arms and abs in reverence. your jaw drops when she pulls off her bra next; her boobs are actually perfect. it’s like she’s not even real. she smirks as she pulls her pants down her legs and kicks them to the floor, shaking you from your daze. then she crawls back on top of you, leaves another hickey on your chest, strokes your hair.

“if you wanna stop at any point, just tell me.” her voice is gentle but insistent, and you nod.

“same here,” you respond, and she sends you a little smile that’s entirely too cute for her own good.

she undoes the clasp of your bra, throws it somewhere to the side and momo descends immediately, full lips around your nipple, sucking hard and assertive, the other one rolled between two fingers. after you begin panting, she switches sides, makes sure to pay attention to both of your breasts as you let out lewd moans and sighs.

you lose yourself like that for a while as she pleasures your tits before eventually she removes her mouth from your chest, shifts up a little, grinds down on your thigh—you can feel the heat from between her legs, the soaked fabric of her panties pressing down onto your skin. you let out a whine.

“you sound so pretty for me, baby,” momo breathes into your collarbone. she sucks a dark hickey at the base of your throat. you moan again, the sound vibrating against momo’s lips. you let your hand drift down towards her clothed core, rubbing circles against the wet spot on her panties. she lets out a whimper, and you push her a little so she sits up. you easily pull her panties off, let them fall to the floor. you use your fingers to tease at her folds, coating them in her slick. you start to rub circles on her clit and she lets out a series of breathy, high-pitched whines. you keep going like that for a while, momo pulling you down to make out with her as you stimulate her clit. soon, momo’s body is shaking. “i need your fingers in me, y/n,” she chokes out.

you hum. “ask me nicely.”

“please, y/n. please fuck me with your fingers.” you lick your lips and nod.

you start by easing one finger inside her, thrusting in and out until she’s whimpering softly. then, you add another finger, curling them both upwards as you sink them into her pussy, caressing her g-spot. momo groans, low and sensual, as you start to fuck into her with your fingers. with each thrust, your palm makes contact with her clit, and eventually her head starts to loll back, loud moans rising out of her mouth.

you think you could get addicted to this—her sounds, her heat, her pleasure. it’s enough to get you dripping.

“i’m gonna cum,” momo gasps out. “oh, fuck—i’m—”

you nearly cum when her orgasm takes over, grunts and whines falling from her lips as she shudders and gushes onto your fingers. you slow down, rub at her clit gently a few times before eventually pulling your fingers out. you shove them into momo’s mouth. “suck,” you command, and she does so immediately, tongue flicking around your digits. “good girl.” you take your fingers out and immediately pull her into a kiss, licking into her mouth and tasting her cum on her tongue, sweet and tangy and a little salty.

yeah, you could definitely get addicted to this.

for a while, you kiss her like that, her heavy breathing eventually evening out as she recovers from her climax. slowly, momo slides her hand downwards, stopping at the edge of your panties. she circles the hem of your underwear, presses a kiss into your neck again. your breath catches in your throat. you’re positively soaked. momo moves down, settles between your thighs. she kisses at the wetness on your panties, reaches up, pulls them down your legs, over your thighs, tosses them away from the bed. she kisses your clit and you whimper. you look down and oh—she makes eye contact with you, smirks, licks into your slit, collecting your slick on her warm tongue.

momo sucks at your clit just as unrelentingly as she had your nipple, and you’ve always been so sensitive. you’re moaning, breath ragged, body shaking as momo licks at your cunt.

you’re so drenched, momo easily slips two fingers in and starts pumping them in and out. the feeling of her fingers curling into your g-spot makes you gasp, and she keeps darting her tongue against your clit, licking against your labia, spreading your wetness around her mouth. you moan loudly and your hands fall to grip at her head, grasping into her hair.

you let out a strangled, “oh fuck, momo, oh my god—” as her fingers fuck into you, tongue licking broadly against your folds and flicking against your clit. her lips wrap around your bud and she sucks, the sensation sending you over the edge. “momo, i’m gonna cum, ’m gonna—fuck—”

your body goes slack as you cum powerfully, momo still lapping at your folds, sucking around your clit and thrusting her fingers into you. eventually, she pulls away, lets you lay there as you recover, brushes your hair out of your face. she gets up off the bed and says, “be right back.” then she’s rummaging through her drawers as you close your eyes, trying to catch your breath.

you notice her shadow looming over you when she returns. “so,” momo breathes out, tugging at your hair. you let out a whimper. “i have something else i’d like to try with you, if you’re up for it?” you open your eyes and look at her, see the harness and pink silicone dildo in her hands. instantly, you sit up and surge towards her, kissing her desperately. she pulls away with a laugh and says, “i’ll take that as a yes, then.”

before you know it, you’re face down on the bed, on your hands and knees, elbows resting on her pillow, back arched and legs spread. momo runs her hands down your back as you shiver, grips your left hip, uses her other hand to rub the tip of the shaft along your dripping slit. she teases you leisurely and you quickly begin to grow impatient. you whine pathetically, “more. i need all of you. please, momo.”

momo’s mouth quirks up in satisfaction. “you’re a greedy little whore, huh?” but she complies, places the head against your pussy, pushes the tip in, doesn’t wait for you to adjust and slides the length all the way into you in one movement. you grasp tightly at the sheets beneath you, letting out a low moan. momo slowly pulls out, looks smug at the slickness spread along the strap, pushes back inside you with a giggle. she pulls out again, repeats the action, thrusting harder and quicker each time, hands gripping your ass firmly. she’s found a good rhythm and she lets out a deep groan. you feel yourself clench at the sound, thighs quivering as pleasure surges throughout you.

she continues to fuck into you deeply until eventually your arms begin to give out; she slows momentarily, pulls out completely, grabs your hips and flips you over so you’re on your back, staring up at her. she lines up the dildo against your cunt again, buries the shaft in you, but she doesn’t move. instead, she smirks down at you as you begin to whimper desperately.

“what is it, baby? use your words.”

“momo,” you gasp out, “please move, please.”

she tilts her head. you’re squirming, trying to fuck yourself on her dick, but momo’s strong, holding you in place, preventing you from finding your own pleasure. “beg properly,” she drawls, “and maybe i’ll think about it.”

“will you please move, momo? i’ll do anything, baby, please, i need your cock so bad,” you cry. “please fuck me, please i’ll be such a good slut for you, momo, just please move, please.”

“how cute,” she coos before she starts fucking you at the same pace as before, hitting hard and deep inside you every time. you’re gasping and grunting each time she thrusts, her round eyes shining in amusement as she stares down at you. you eventually break eye contact when you glance at her body.

the sight of momo’s toned abs and round tits glistening with a thin layer of sweat nearly makes you lose your mind, and you claw desperately at her arms. she starts rubbing at your clit with one hand, the other holding you down securely by your waist. the combined stimulation sends you into overdrive, and your breath hitches, vision begins to blur, body shakes frantically with momo’s name falling from your lips repeatedly as your orgasm ripples through every part of you.

as you come down from your high, momo slips out of you, making you exhale sharply as you adjust to the loss. you feel completely wrecked, pussy raw and sore from the intensity of momo’s actions. she quickly leaves to bring you some towels and a glass of water. she returns with a soft expression; the two of you lay together as she gently, carefully wipes you down. you sip at your water gratefully, finishing the entire glass, but you can feel fatigue engulfing your body. she practically carries you to the bathroom, where she lends you a spare toothbrush and leaves you to use the toilet. when you’re finished, she really does pick you up this time, setting you gently on her bed, pulling the sheets up over your body. you barely manage to whisper out a “thank you” before you’re passed out, surrounded by momo’s scent and breathing peacefully. momo just smiles, tucks your hair behind your ear, presses a soft kiss against your forehead. as you fall into a deep slumber, she gets up, folds your clothes and puts them in a tote bag, finds your phone. noticing your almost-dead battery, she plugs it into a spare charger. then she crawls into bed next to you, turns off her light, and falls asleep to the soothing rise and fall of your chest next to her.

you roll over, eyes sticky with exhaustion and haziness. your body aches, and you reach a heavy hand out to find your phone. you feel around for a few moments before your phone is pushed gently into your hand. startled, you blink a few times and sit up.

momo lays next to you, body half-covered by the sheets, lips cut into a smirk. “good morning,” she husks quietly. “sleep well?” you stare at her for a moment. you’re aware that you’re both still naked, and you try not to think about her flawless chest and delicious abs.

“uh, good morning. yes. yeah. uh, i… i did. did you?” your brain feels all jumbled and looking at momo doesn’t seem to help.

“sure did,” she drawls with a grin, all teeth and rosy cheeks. “your phone’s being blowing up all morning, by the way.” you look down at the device and unlock the screen. your notifications are flooded with missed calls and texts from your friends—sana and chaeyoung’s names seem to take up the majority of them. noticing the time, your eyes widen comically.

“holy shit,” you breathe, head snapping up to look at momo. “uh… fuck. i am so sorry.”

her head tilts, adorably confused. “what for?” she shifts forward, reaching for your torso. she tugs at you a little until she’s snuggled against your body, burying her head into your side and wrapping an arm around your midsection.

“uh.” it seems to be your favorite word this morning. “for staying here so long? i didn’t mean to fall asleep here, i swear.” momo just laughs softly and closes her eyes.

“i don’t mind,” she sighs into your skin. your heart starts to beat a little faster.

“are you sure?”

she hums. “yeah. i even made breakfast, if you’re ready to eat. i wouldn’t have done that if i weren’t okay with you staying here.” her tone is teasing, but you can feel the sincerity in her voice. it makes you blush.

you squeak, “you made breakfast?”

“mm,” she responds. “just before you woke up. should still be warm. you still like waffles, yeah?”

“uh,” you repeat. you mentally kick yourself—where is your eloquence? “waffles are… good. hey, is sana here? and nayeon?”

her lips twitch. “would i have made breakfast naked if they were?” you turn bright red. “nayeon decided to head over to jeongyeon’s last night,” momo continues, “and dahyun took sana home with her and tzuyu. neither of them will be back until later.”

“oh, okay,” you exhale. “right. so, uh…” you don’t quite know how to say the words.

“hey, if you’re worried about this ruining our friendship,” momo starts, fiddling with her fingers, “we don’t have to make it anything more than just a hookup. we don’t even have to mention it again, if you’d like. i don’t mind. it’s your call.”

instantly, you flush, embarrassed that she’s read you so easily. “i’m sorry,” you say quickly. “it’s just—last night was incredible, beyond incredible, and you were so good, really, but i just don’t want this to make things weird between us. you’re one of my best friends and i like being with you, you know?” stop talking, you think. momo raises an eyebrow and you can’t help but continue, “not like that—or, well, maybe like that, if that’s something you want, because i definitely wouldn’t be opposed.” oh my god, stop! talking! your cheeks are hot and you look down at the floor.

momo lets out a laugh and reaches for your hand, prompting you to look back up at her. “y/n, it’s okay. i’m not, like, offended or anything. i totally get it. i’d never want to jeopardize our friendship, either. but it doesn’t have to make things weird. because i also like being with you, whether it ends like it did last night or not. no pressure. we don’t have to do anything you don’t want. we can just go with the flow.” she sends you a comforting smile. “how about we eat breakfast now? before it goes cold.”

“sure,” you agree, “but i might need help walking over there.”

momo’s proud smirk that follows replays in your mind even weeks later.

when you’d come home the day after jihyo’s kickback, chaeyoung had asked about your sleepover at momo’s, but she didn’t seem to think much of it. miraculously, none of the girls had noticed the array of hickeys that momo had left all over your body, or wondered why you’d spent the rest of the weekend entirely in bed, only moving to get ready.

before you’d left her apartment that day, you’d mustered up the courage to lean in to kiss her, and momo had closed the distance before saying goodbye sweetly. you’d given in and texted momo not even two hours later, and ever since then, you’ve been chatting back and forth with the older girl, messages flirtier than they’ve ever been, tension accumulating as the weeks go by. you see momo a lot when you hang out with your friends, and nobody seems to think anything of it when she intertwines her fingers with yours or pulls you into frequent hugs, hands gripping at your waist. you hang out with her alone, too, though it’s all been completely friendly so far, with only your texts to insinuate there might be something else between you. you won’t say it to her, but you really wouldn’t mind if she just kissed you sometimes, or edged you in the bathroom during lunch, maybe.

on one morning, between classes, you go for coffee with her and sana—invitation extended by momo followed by a mouthwatering mirror pic of her, post-workout, abs gleaning with sweat and thumb hooked into the front of her joggers, along with the message working on my stamina. needless to say, you’d nearly forgotten about the coffee entirely.

“you guys seem to have gotten really close recently,” sana remarks as momo goes to pick up your orders. the two of you sit at a table, observing the oldest girl as she thanks the barista and starts to carry the tray back over to you.

“well, we were close before,” you say, trying to not sound too affected. “but i guess we have been hanging out a lot more recently.” momo takes her seat then, passing out your drinks and pastries. sana just hums and fails to hide a smile behind her cold brew. you cough.

before you head to your next class, sana pulls you aside as momo’s tossing away your trash. “just so you know,” she whispers, “i think you should go for it. if you like her, i mean. you’re totally momo’s type.”

before you can respond, momo’s standing in front of you, doe eyes sparkling as she swings her bag over her shoulder. sana winks at you.

you bid them both goodbye and make your way to class. it’s kind of funny—the entire time, all you can think about is sana saying you’re totally momo’s type. you try to ignore how the thought sets your skin on fire.

you have statistics class with tzuyu, jihyo, and momo every tuesday and thursday at 10 a.m.

only now, you start to notice momo—she always sits at the end of the row next to tzuyu, while you sit in between tzuyu and jihyo. momo’s quietly immersed in her phone most of the time. she doesn’t really take notes, or even listen to your professor. in fact, whenever your eyes find her, she’s always staring into space or typing something on her phone. sometimes you catch her with her notebook open and pencil scrawling something across the pages, but you can see she’s just doodling. you wonder what her grade is. after all, you spend half your time in this class playing games and texting with tzuyu, and the both of you are barely clinging to a low B as it is. jihyo, on the other hand, is always focused—her hard-earned A is the reflection of her determination and work ethic.

you subtly begin to switch seats with tzuyu so you can sit next to momo. tzuyu doesn’t really seem to notice or care, but one day, after a couple weeks, jihyo asks you about it as you slide into a seat, five minutes early for class.

“why are you sitting there?”

“huh?” you say smartly, pulling out your notebook and pencil. jihyo does the same, but she gives you a look.

“tzuyu usually sits next to momo. what, you don’t like sitting next to me anymore?”

“oh! no, that’s not it. uh, i guess i just didn’t notice.” you hope it comes out as casual as possible. jihyo gives you another look, which you ignore, and pulls out her stuff, settling into her seat.

“momo! hey!” at jihyo’s words, you nearly break your neck looking up so quickly. jihyo tries to stifle a guffaw.

“hey jihyo,” momo glances towards you and her eyes sparkle more brightly. “hi, y/n.”

“hi momo,” you reply breathlessly. again, you pay no mind to the giant grin jihyo’s sending your way.

momo drops into the seat next to you, scoots a little closer to you, her leg brushing against yours. your breath falters slightly. jihyo suppresses a cackle; you ignore her resolutely. “are you guys ready for the test next week?”

“wait, there’s a test next week?” you squeak.

“hey, you should’ve been paying attention,” jihyo tsks. “i invited you the other day to come to my study session. at least tzuyu actually showed up.”

“well, we can still study until the test,” momo offers. she glances at you. “y/n, what do you think?”

“oh, uh,” you look at momo. “sure. i could use the extra help. i mean, tzuyu and i…” you peek over at jihyo sheepishly. “well, yeah. i could use the extra help.” momo lets out a laugh and you blush.

jihyo rolls her eyes. “oh, now you want to study together? hey, you missed your chance.”

you wince. “sorry about that again. it’s just… well, i just didn’t feel like studying.” momo can’t help but giggle again at that. secretly, you’re preening inside at the sound.

“you can study with me,” momo leans closer to you. you stare at her, brain faltering at her close proximity. “i might not be a genius like jihyo, but i’m good. good enough to have an A, at least.”

you’re about to respond when tzuyu hurls herself into the seat between you and jihyo. “hey guys! did i miss anything?”

“hey tzuyu,” momo looks at her. “no, not yet. we were just saying we should study together again before the unit test, maybe next week?” you all agree and begin to make plans, but quickly quiet down when you notice the professor walk in.

the entire lecture, all you can focus on is momo—momo’s leg, pressed against your own—momo’s fingers, tapping every so often along the desk—momo’s perfume, something sweet and citrusy and a little powdery—momo’s jawline, sharp and gorgeous—momo’s eyes, huge and twinkling—

you don’t even notice when class ends, only registering it when momo’s standing up to leave, waggling her fingers teasingly at you as she exits the hall. jihyo and tzuyu gesture for you to hurry up and gather your things. you look down at your notebook, page completely empty save for the words stop staring at me in momo’s cute handwriting scrawled next to a heart.

jihyo and tzuyu exchange a look as you stare at the paper. when you peer up at them, jihyo just laughs. tzuyu rolls her eyes but sends a soft expression towards you. you suddenly feel very dizzy.

you’d spent the week trying to study to prepare for your statistics test, but you didn’t seem to get very far. now, you’re standing in front of momo’s door, textbook in hand with your bag slung over your shoulder as you knock gently.

jihyo and tzuyu had chosen to study on their own, with jihyo ultimately deciding that you would be too distracting for tzuyu to focus if you were together. she’d offered to study with you separately, but you’d instead jumped at the chance to ask momo to study with you. jihyo hadn’t tried to convince you otherwise, just giving you a knowing wink, and momo was more than happy to say yes.

the door opens to reveal a barefaced momo, dressed comfortably in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, doe eyes blinking at you behind big round glasses, fluffy hair falling softly around her face. your heart bursts at the sight. she beams at you before pulling you into a hug, shutting the door behind you.

“hey, you,” she greets you fondly. “ready to study, buddy?” you roll your eyes but laugh anyway.

“i guess,” you respond. “but to be completely honest, i’m pretty lost on this whole unit. and not just because i usually spend half of lecture beating tzuyu at candy crush.” momo raises an eyebrow at that. “i mean, i’m not stupid or anything, but it kinda just doesn’t click for me. just to warn you.”

momo just shrugs, gives you a comforting smile. “that’s okay. i’m pretty patient.”

you follow her to her room and you settle on the floor, pulling out your materials. for a while, you’re determined and fully concentrated on your studies. momo’s not wrong: she’s extremely patient, and the way she explains things is direct and simple, and somehow, things start to fall into place, and you grasp the concepts from the unit fairly quickly.

but after a couple hours, your focus begins to waver, and you find yourself incredibly distracted by the slope of momo’s nose, the mole on her neck, the rosiness of her cheeks—

“you’re staring,” momo singsongs, breaking your train of thought. her mouth is configured in a lopsided grin. you blink. “again.”

“sorry,” you say, not feeling very sorry at all. “you’re just really… you know. pretty.”

“i’m pretty?” she smirks at you, leans into your personal space. you nod dumbly and she giggles. she tilts her head forward to capture your lips in a kiss, and you can’t help but sigh. despite her flirty behavior, it’s been almost two months since you’d last kissed, since you’d spent the night with her after jihyo’s party, and you missed it. you missed her.

the two of you collapse onto her bed and kiss lazily for a while; you relish in her gentle touches and natural beauty. she’s so pretty. she’s certainly handsome, too, you think. she’s honestly just the most gorgeous person you’ve ever seen in your entire life. her lips are soft and full, dragging lightly along your jawline before she nips at your throat. you whimper quietly as momo bites down on you again.

statistics long forgotten, you take your top off, toss it to momo’s floor.

momo’s plump lips are pressing hot, wet kisses against the column of your neck. you try to keep your composure, but a guttural moan makes its way out of your mouth and you instantly flush red. momo pulls at your pants, tugging them and your panties down your legs.

momo eats you out until you’re trembling, chest heaving and nothing but moans and broken speech falling from your lips. her lips and chin glisten with your slick, but she just gives you a quick kiss before leaning back down and attaching her mouth around your clit again. you fall apart once, twice, three times—your clit throbs intensely, painfully, too sensitive to keep going. but you don’t tell her to stop, so momo doesn’t stop, and you really like that she doesn’t stop. by the time you’re shuddering your way into a seventh orgasm, you’re limp and mumbling incoherently. momo finally lets up, licks into your mouth instead, your own cum coating your tongue as she kisses you wetly, desperately.

you go home that night feeling complete—and momo completes you again and again and again for hours when you show up at her place a week later, a giant A displayed at the top of your statistics test.

you’re pretty sure you’re addicted to momo.

you hang out with the older girl constantly. you go to movies together, study together, eat meals together. you don’t even go out to parties anymore, unless it’s held by one of your friends, choosing to go out with momo instead. you can’t remember the last time you saw yooyeon or jiwon. it hardly matters when you’re settled between momo’s thighs, lips wrapped around her clit, the sweetness of her cum dancing along every corner of your mouth.

eventually, you’re ending every other night in momo’s room. it doesn’t always involve sex—really, you just feel like being around momo. it’s nice. momo certainly isn’t complaining.

she starts to keep a toothbrush for you in her bathroom, and your clothes begin to mix in with her own closet.

chaeyoung doesn’t text you asking when you’re coming home anymore. instead, she asks if you’re coming over. whenever you swing by what’s technically your apartment with momo in tow, chaeyoung beams hugely at you, gives you a wink or a thumbs up. it’s only mildly embarrassing.

you’ve never had a friend quite like momo—she’s in a league of her own. she’s easily the best hookup you’ve ever had. you feel lucky just to be friends with her.

you think about momo’s taut abs, the way her skilled tongue curls inside you, her incredible stamina. you think about her contagious laugh, her alarmingly loud sneezes, her focused expression when she’s cooking something in the kitchen. you like all of these things about momo. you decide that, yeah, momo feels right. your head starts to spin when you think about what that means.

it dawns on you that this was what you’d been feeling every time you think about momo—want, pure desire, love. you’ve never craved anything or anyone like this before. you never felt want like this, love like this—it never felt right, not unless it was momo.

you’re at dinner with jeongyeon when you finally get the bright idea to actually tell momo you love her.

really, it’s more like jeongyeon hands you the idea on a silver platter.

“you seem happy,” jeongyeon says before biting into a dumpling.

you hum. “i am happy,” you say, not at all surprised to find your thoughts immediately drifting to momo. you begin to space out a bit as you think about all your recent memories with her; it’s not just the sex that’s good, but she makes you feel alive. when you’re with her, you forget about the rest of the world. it feels good to be around her. even just thinking about momo makes you feel at ease, content.

jeongyeon smiles at you, eyes softening. “so you and momo made it official then?”

that jolts you out of your reverie.

“momo—official—we aren’t—what?” you splutter incredulously. you stare at jeongyeon. she just blinks at you.

“you and momo,” she repeats, slower this time. “aren’t you guys, like, dating?” she says it so casually, in between bites of meat—you feel like the world has stopped spinning. “did she finally ask you to be her girlfriend?”

“momo and i are not dating,” you choke out nervously. “where in the world did you get that idea?”

jeongyeon stops chewing, swallows haltingly. “you’re kidding, right?” she sits up straighter, looks you in the eyes. “you guys aren’t subtle. like, at all. you know, we’re polite, not blind. those hickeys aren’t invisible, and you only got away with faking sick so many times before it tipped us off that something was up. plus, you’re always looking at each other with heart eyes. it’s kind of sickening, actually.”

you sit in silence as you absorb this. after a beat, you croak, “so, all of you… know about the sex?” she nods. “i see. well, honestly, i love her. but i’m worried that she’s not there yet.”

jeongyeon looks at you. “y/n, i’m pretty sure everyone knows that momo loves you. like, i’m not kidding, but she’s had a crush on you since you met. just ask sana. she’s been playing wingwoman for momo for months and it was like you were completely blind until the first time you and momo kissed. you know sana called me that night, drunk in dahyun’s bed, both of them shouting at me to start planning the wedding? mina helps momo pick out outfits for your dates. nayeon buys extra groceries because you practically live at their apartment now, and don’t think chaeyoung hasn’t noticed that. don’t even get me started on the updates jihyo and tzuyu send every week.” she decides to make it very clear to you. “momo talks nonstop about you, and the sex isn’t even a quarter of her rambling.” she rolls her eyes, but her lips stretch into a tender smile.

“oh. i guess i should probably do something about this, huh?” you rub your fingers at your neck as jeongyeon just rolls her eyes again.

“yeah,” she responds. “make it simple and just tell her ‘i love you.’”

you unlock momo’s room when you return from dinner and march up to momo, who’s laying on her bed, listening to music and staring at the ceiling absentmindedly. “i love you,” you say to her, feeling completely breathless. she sits up, looks extremely confused, but smiles blindingly at you. “i’m sorry i didn’t say it sooner.” you pause. “all of our friends seem to be under the impression that you love me back, so…” you trail off shyly.

“well, they’re not wrong,” she laughs out. “i do love you back.” you’re blushing, but momo just reaches towards you, pulls you onto her bed next to her. “no need to be sorry, by the way. i told you i was patient.”

that night, you see stars over and over and over as you and momo make love for hours until you’re both ready to pass out.

when your eyes finally shut, the last thing you register before you drift to sleep is momo whispering against your lips, “i love you.” and you think love might just be your new favorite word in the world.

#kpop x reader #kpop imagines #twice x reader #twice imagines #twice momo x reader #twice momo imagines #momo x reader #momo imagines #girl group imagines #kpop #twice #twice momo #hirai momo #twice smut

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linghxr · 4 months

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Advice I would give my past self about studying Chinese

Recently I've been reflecting on my Chinese learning journey and how far I've come. If I could go back in time, these are 10 things I would tell my past self. A few are specific to Chinese, but most can apply to any language

It will get so much easier to learn new characters. I remember feeling overwhelmed because learning new characters was a painful process. Now when I encounter a new character, I can remember it with relative ease—it’s just a new combination of familiar components.

Don't feel bad about having uneven development in different skills. My listening and reading are significantly stronger than my speaking and writing. It’s super common and nothing to be ashamed of.

The best way to get over being too embarrassed to speak is to experience some embarrassment and realize it’s not a big deal. I used to be so afraid of making mistakes that I would avoid speaking in class. It was only by being forced to speak that I got over it. I'm much better for it!

It’s impossible to learn everything, and time is limited. You have to prioritize. You probably don’t need to know how to say “pawnshop” in Chinese, and trying to jam your head full of 100 words you saw once won’t work. They won’t stick.

It will actually be harder to read pinyin than to read characters at some point. When I helped a friend with a script for her Chinese class, I really struggled because she had written it entirely in pinyin. I had to write out the characters to read without stumbling! I know characters are daunting for beginners, but trust me, you will get used to them.

If you haven’t practiced or learned something, of course you won’t be good at it. I remember feeling so frustrated trying to navigate Chinese websites for the first time. In retrospect, obviously, I was going to struggle with something completely new to me!

If something isn’t sticking, move on. Why waste time on a word that’s not clicking when you could be learning five new ones? It will only result in unnecessary frustration. So unless you need to know it for your class or a proficiency test, drop it and move on.

Don’t beat yourself up when you have trouble understanding music, literature, different accents, etc. These can be challenging even in your native language. Of course you’re going to struggle more in a new language.

It's worth it to pay attention to things like stroke order and tones from the start so you don't form bad habits. Don’t stress about get it perfect, but it’s easier to do it right the first time than to have to correct your bad habits in the future.

Instead of feeling overwhelmed by all that you don’t know, learn how to express yourself with what you do know. It’s truly its own skill that requires practice. After all, in life you can’t always stop and pull out a dictionary.

I started learning Chinese a really long time ago, but I became more serious about it in 2018, so 5 1/2 years ago. I'm very proud of how far I've come, but I still have a long way to go! I look forward to revisiting this post in another couple of years 😊

#my learning #chinese #mandarin #mandarin chinese #chinese language #studyblr #langblr #learning languages #language learning #chinese langblr #mandarin langblr #languageblr

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 13 days

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All In 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: Hellllllooooo 😁

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The next morning comes too soon and with too little sleep. Despite your efforts, you couldn’t lay still long enough to get much rest. Every time you sunk into the shallows of sleep, you were just as quickly awoken by visions of the unknown. You don’t know anything beyond the time at which you’ll set off to your fate; nine o’clock.

You don’t need an alarm. You're already awake and alert. You sit up and rub your temples until the thumping dulls. You can’t entirely shake the pulsing thrum.

You drag yourself to your feet and cross to your dresser. You open each drawer, sifting through the contents with disappointment. You don’t have anything that nice. You pick out your nicest jeans and a halter top Roxie gave you. You’ll be sweating your bum off in the denim but you don’t have many skirts or even shorts.

You can hear your mother getting ready for her own day of work. Of actual work. You wait until she’s done to claim the bathroom. She’s off only a couple minutes after, calling out a goodbye and I love you that you return in a higher pitch than you mean to.

You dress and tidy yourself up as best you can. Your bedtime shower did little to help you sleep but at least it saves you a step. You spritz yourself with strawberry body spray and try to smile at your reflection as you put your toothbrush back.

Sigh. Did Bucky really call you sexy?

It’s not even eight. Lots of time to wallow in anxiety and self-doubt. You pace around the front room, ready to go, but not really. You have your purse with the fringe and your least-worn flats. They pinch around your toes but they’re cute; pink loafers with a little leather rose on each.

You cradle your phone then squeeze it hard enough to make it light up. Only a few minutes. Or not. You hear a car outside and peer through the curtain. You recognise the vehicle. Shoot, time to go. Oh, god, what are you doing?

You lock the door behind you and turn to face the gallows. Each step is filled with sand, your legs are heavy and your feet clunky. As you near, Merv appears to open the door for you. You’re surprised but not to find Bucky waiting within.

As you slide onto the seat, he watches you and rumbles out a silty, ‘morning, doll.’ You aren’t ready. You don’t know why but you thought the drive would give you time to toss away the last of your caution but you’re clinging to it like a raft. You feel entirely powerless. More than you ever have.

What he promises, money; you always assumed it would give you more control, that it would solve all your problems, but it’s really just a new set of problems. You settle onto the seat as the door closes and buckle your seat belt, focusing on the simple task. He stretches his arm over the back of the seat as you lean against it and his heat seethes into you.

“Good morning,” you force out at last.

“That’s a cute shirt,” he purrs as his hand wanders down to tickle your bare shoulder, your nude bra strap showing garishly. “Would look better without this.” He touches the strap and you make a noise. “But I can wait for that, doll.”

You stare forward. The divider between you and the front seat is up. You are completely alone. You feel your heart about to swell and split.

“I’ll admit, I was up late last night,” his arms shifts slightly as he leans forward. You only notice then the scent of coffee and two cups in the holders behind the console. “Got a pick-me-up to start the day. Gotta be awake for you, doll.”

He takes one of the cups and you realise, he means to offer it to you. You feel too bad to tell him you’re not much for coffee. “It’s called a blue dream tea latte? I think it’s blueberry or something. I saw it in some ad online. Sounded like something you’d like.”

“Oh, thanks, er, it does?” You murmur. You’d seen the same promotion on Pinterest. It’s a rather strange coincidence that he’d think of you. “I... I’ve never tried a tea latte.”

“Doll, I’m gonna give you lots of things you never had, take you places you never been,” he flutters his fingers across your neck as he retracts his arm. He grabs the other cup and groans as he sits back, blowing over the plastic lid. “So tell me,” his arms presses against yours. He seems so big sitting so close, “where’ somewhere you always wanted to go?”

“Er, I don’t...” your eyes drift over as Merv drives lazily through your neighbourhood, “know. I never... thought about it.”

“Anything you always wanted to do? Skydiving? Wait, yeah, you don’t like being high up. Makes sense, being so close to the ground, huh?” He chuckles and leans into you playfully, “you an outdoorsy type? You like hiking?”

“Um, I don’t know, I think... I like walking in the park sometimes,” you hold the cup with both hands, letting the warmth flow into your cold veins. You can smell the blueberry and you instinctively take wife through the slot of the lid.

“Mm, don’t worry, we’ll figure it out, doll,” he assures you and sips again, swallowing thickly before he lets out a thigh. “I think you’ll like what I got planned, even if you don’t know what you want. I’ve always been good at figuring that out, you know?”

“Oh?”

He laughs again, “you’re so cute, doll.” He looks over at you, “how’s the latte? Did I do good?”

Your eyes nearly cross as you stare at the cup. You bring it up carefully and take a dainty sip. You almost moan at the creamy but sweet taste. You pull the lid away and dab your lips with the back of your hand, turning to give him a wide-eyed look.

“It’s delicious,” you smile.

He grins and tilts his head, “see, doll, you don’t even gotta say it. I know exactly what you need.”

You’re breathless. Something about his tone, his words, mingles and coils around your throat. It’s like one of those old Wattpad fantasies you devoured in your teen years, those escapist dreams of having everything taken care of and not having to think, and yet, it’s too real. You take another drink to keep busy.

“After our first stop, we’ll eat,” he says, “that okay? You’re not ravenous?”

His words make you flinch. You blink and shake your head, “I’m okay.”

“Sounds good, doll,” he relaxes and once more extends his arms over your shoulders, this time hugging you closer.

He turns his head and nuzzles you, making you squirm. You’re rigid, paralysed by the proximity. You’ve never been this close with anyone. He still feels like a stranger.

“Mmm, strawberries,” he growls, “I like that.”

You giggle and barely keep a hold of your cup. You really can’t understand it. You never had interest from anyone. You didn’t even really have friends in school. Sometimes, you even think Roxie hates you, and your mom, well, she loves you because you have to. You just can’t comprehend what he sees.

“Thanks...” you wisp.

“No, thank you, doll,” he drawls, “for making my morning brighter.”

🃏

You doubt Bucky does anything in half-measures. Merv pulls up to another upscale building and you can’t help but gape out at the white brick facade. Everything is so big and fancy and better than you. You’re so out of place in his world that you can’t but wait for the moment he decides to kick you out of it.

The white-haired driver gets out to open the door. As you step out, your loafer slips off your heel and your foot slides down the curb. You trip outward, bracing yourself for impact, but don’t hit the ground. A hand wraps around your arm and pulls you back onto the seat. You cringe, happy at least that Bucky can’t see your face as he clings to you.

“You okay, doll?” He asks, “you hurt yourself?”

“No, no,” you wriggle in his grasp, “I’m fine. It was just... stupid.”

“Not stupid, good thing I was here to catch you, huh?” He reluctantly releases you, a caress along the back of your arm, “now you be careful. You need me to get out and carry you--”

“No, no!” You grab the car and push yourself out, fixing your shoe as you get your bearings. “Really, I’m okay.”

He chuckles and follows. It he laughing at you? You turn to face him as he steps up on the curb. It’s easy when he’s sitting to forget how small you really are.

“All good, doll, I just can’t have you getting banged up,” he says as he gestures you across the wide sidewalk.

You peer back as Merv shuts the door and Bucky brings his hand to your lower back, just like that woman at the casino. His gentle touch sends a chill up your back despite the beaming heat from above.

“Promise, you’re gonna love this.”

He urges you on to the front doors. They are made of iron, twisted in the middle, and two long handles curlicue in the middle. He stops and presses the little silver button along the side, a buzz muffled within. You wait, fidgeting, and presses his palm firmly to your back. You still yourself and clutch your bag tighter.

The interior doors, dark walnut, open inward and a woman appears within with a particularly snobbish look. She’s tall with straight shoulders and a Chanel style suit. She unlocks the iron doors and opens the right one. She eyes Bucky past her hooked nose as she lifts it higher.

“Mr. Barnes,” she greets.

“Meredith,” he returns, “thanks for having me.”

“Only for you,” she assures as her eyes fall upon you, “you’ve brought...”

“Someone very special. A connoisseur like yourself,” he insists, curtailing whatever she thought to remark.

“Yes, certainly she would be,” the woman accepts with a sniff and steps back, “please, come in. Should I have Charlene make tea?”

“I don’t think we will require it. Doll?” He pauses as he confirms with you.

You shake your head, “no thank you.”

“Very well, follow me, then,” she spins and struts away.

Bucky nudges you inside first, following through the narrow door. As he comes up parallel to you, a shadow appears to close the doors behind him. The whole experience is eerie. What is going on?

You follow the woman, Meredith, up the wooden stairs with a rose-printed runner along the center of the steps. At the top, you smell the definitive scent of books. She directs you into a room, opening the door but standing back to let you through. Bucky nods and thanks her one last time.

“You know the rules, Barnes,” she warns.

“Been a while...” he mutters.

“You remember,” she rebukes.

He laughs and pulls the door shut as she retreats, her heels clicking through the wall until they taper off to nothing. A record player drones from the corner and the window lets in the yellow sunshine, adding to the illumination of glass-shaded lamps. You peer around, as curious as you are confused.

Bucky brushes by you, knuckles rubbing against your waist, and he approaches the antique table at the center. Several stacks of books sit neatly piled atop it. You approach sheepishly and read the spines. You recognise the titles though you’ve never read any of them. As you think, you realise that these are the same books you have on your reading app. How could he know?

Your mouth falls open as you keep your hands folded together. You don’t dare to touch anything. It all seems so nice and likely expensive. And with how Meredith spoke, you’re certain she wouldn’t appreciate you putting anything out of place.

“She’s a book collector. I came here a few years back to buy some first editions for my sister,” he picks up a book.

“How...” you bend to read further down a stack.

“A lot you can learn about a person online,” he flutters through the pages, “isn’t there?”

You look at him and blanch.

“I know you Googled me. Everyone does,” he snickers, “it’s fine. Comes with the territory. But you...” he snaps the book shut and comes around the table, holding it out to you, “all I found were some books and a few pictures of a cat.”

You take the book and stare at the cover. Those pictures were old. Kai died at the end of high school. You run your hand over the embossed title; Middlemarch. You remember adding it after binging and old British series.

“My cat. She’s gone now,” you shrug.

“Sorry to hear that, doll,” he says. “I might know someone who can cheer you up, though.”

“It’s... fine. She was a good cat,” you shrug.

“Hm, yeah, but a friend, all the same,” he says, “so, you want it?”

“What?” You peek at the book again.

“All of them? I can have them packed and sent to your house.”

“Huh?” Your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull, “my mom...”

“Ah, it’s fine, we can sneak em in,” he assures.

“No, no, I couldn’t... it’s too much. Very nice but... must be... a lot.”

“It is, doll. Meredith gave me a damn headache tryna get in here on short notice but I did it,” he leans a hand on the table and hooks one foot over the other. “You gotta at least pick one thing to walk out of here with.”

“Oh, I... I wasn’t meaning... I didn’t mean to be ungrateful,” you rub your thumbs along the edges of the book, “sorry.”

“It’s fine. I know you’re not, doll. You’re... adjusting. I’m doing my best not to scare ya away but you gotta bite the carrot a little here,” he says, “so grab a few and we’ll go have some breakfast.”

“I...” you look between him and the table. You have no doubt that he went to a lot of effort for this. For you. You can’t just throw it back in his face. “Thank you, it’s...” you turn to face the table and lean in to see more of the books. You let yourself smile, “it’s wonderful. No one’s ever... except mom...”

“Get used to it, doll,” he steps closer, his hand once more on your back, “with a smile like that, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing it.”

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #all in #au #casino au #mcu #marvel #avengers #captain america #winter soldier

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punksocks · 8 months

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Astrology Observations: No.25

*just based on my personal observations, only take what resonates

Omg my first degree theory observation was wrong Danial Kwan has moon at 18 degree, a Virgo degree ! (My bad y’all I’m learning). I’ll say that he had to get a hold of his mental health while in Covid and his adult adhd diagnosis and that influenced the writing of everything all at once (Imma learn this lol, more studying must be done)

Ok better degree theory lol, the degree of your Venus and/or mars can show placements you attract. My Venus is at a cancer degree and I’ve dated a l o t of people with Cancer placements (an experience lol)

A guy’s Lilith can show that his sort of femme fatale attraction (type of girl that overstimulates him, makes him feel enamored but is also his weakness.) His Lilith placement can describe this femme in more detail. For Aries, a go getter that takes no shit (I believe @zeldasnotes said Lilith in Aries in a man’s chart is a strong indicator that he’s a feminist and I totally agree.); For Sagittarius she’d be untethered and have a great sense of humor and may be outside of his culture. For Aquarius she’d be idealized as a manic pixie dream girl, like quirky in a way he could never figure out. let me know if you all would like a whole post on this !

Only outer planets (Uranus, Neptune, Pluto) in your 1st can give you an extra ordinary appearance and make you stand out quite a bit.

Your mars conjunct to someone’s sun can make them feel competitive with you. Venus on the other hand can make you put the sun person on a sort of pedestal and can make the relationship feel like you’re a fan of the sun person. Moon to someone’s sun can feel more at home and at ease.

Men with water Venuses seem to be super monogamous or like incapable of monogamy (which is fine lol, but be ethical about it and establish boundaries and don’t cheat yo)

12th house synastry is sticky asl, as soon as you moved on someone just appears on your mind out of nowhere, lotta hidden energy all tied up together; 8th house synastry is really intense but it’s often hard to build something stable out of the intensity. 4th house feels like home, but as someone with Uranus over their 4th, I associate this synastry with being unpredictable and chaotic in familiar way. 5th and 11th house synastry tends to be good long term. 5th house means you feel fun and creative and always excited together. And 11th house will mean that there’s a feeling of friendship underneath the passion that usually sustains the connection imo.

For all of the seriousness associated with Capricorn placements (especially suns) often focus on a lot on whimsy in their creative works, like it’s the outlet for a lot of their hidden optimism (Hayao Miyazaki, Nobuhiko Obayashi the director of Hausu).

Ok ok I know Scorpio risings are known for intense, bedroom eyes and their overwhelming s*x appeal and making suitors flee because they’re so intimidated etc etc… but quietly I think our biggest weapon that people don’t see coming is our sense of humor. (Honest to god I was thinking of how funny Hugh Grant is even though he doesn’t need to be bc he’s been so handsome this whole time lol. He always puts in the effort into that comedic timing) (Also people still think if you’re hot and intense you can’t be funny so it defuses some of the tension pretty well imo)

I feel like Virgo placements always seem to think they feel boring even though they’re like very knowledgeable and compelling in their own right (I’m getting all reflective and remember when like Virgo moons/mars would always ask if they’re being boring or complain about being boring but they tend to be good conversationalists when they allow themselves to analyze things so deeply)

I think cancers are actually the most defensive sign, naturally. I want to say they have this in common with their sister sign bc Capricorns are defensive and don’t like to show “weakness”. But the way that underdeveloped cancers (can) play the victim when scrutinized is different. (Like Capricorns do that earth sign thing where they use their perception to make you feel like you’re wrong, and they want to be seen as the authority not the victim). Where cancer is in your chart could show where you’re especially guarded and trying to protect your sensitivity.

To me Jupiter conjunct south node means you’ll reap benefits of good karma from a past life (or the effects of bad karma will be a lot in this lifetime but I saw this in obama’s chart and it’s a benefic planet so the first thing is what I thought of lol, he’s not a good guy but becoming the first black president of the us seems like a past life power play imo)

#sorry been super busy lately lol #but I’m back #astro observations #astro notes #astroblr #astro community #astrology #lilith astrology #venus #mars #8th house #12th house #5th house #4th house #11th house #Capricorn #cancer #Virgo #scorpio rising

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genericpuff · 5 days

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wait wait wait, regarding that Minthe post, you're telling me that Rachel literally wrote the character as having BPD.....and portrayed her as an abusive mean piece of shit??? WOW. fucking WOW. sorry for being so angry, but even if she "retconned" that - it's still so god damn disrespective. as someone who has BPD it hurts so much to see my mental illness villanised :(

ugh I'm so sorry pal. and I don't blame you for being angry about it, like I don't even have BPD and I'M fucking pissed LOL like I can understand why Rachel might have wanted to backtrack from that knowing fully well that Minthe's story wasn't gonna have a happy ending, but writing her with BPD in the first place and then BACKTRACKING from it as soon as she likely got heat for it (or just realized it wasn't a good look) isn't much better because it means now all she's done is written the stigmatized negative effects of BPD into her character without showing the more positive outlooks of healing and managing. Maybe that was doomed to happen considering Minthe is someone who doesn't get a happy ending in the myths, but it begs the question of why she'd write her with BPD to begin with because in hindsight it really does seem like she just wanted to use it as a way to make her "evil".

But like, when you read the actual episode, you can SEE the potential there for character growth, you can SEE that she's aware of her actions - but doesn't understand why she's "like that" which is a VERY common feeling among people with undiagnosed mental illnesses - but it was never meant to be.

Like jfc not only is it HEAVILY IMPLIED, but again, the episode is literally called "Splitting". And we see exactly that with Minthe, who can't seem to rationalize with herself that she messed up.

But... that leads me to another point that I failed to mention in that first ask response: she DIDN'T mess up. Like, yes, she messed up by escalating it to the point of slapping Hades, but it wasn't her fault that she didn't make it to her date with Hades. Whose fault was it?

Continuously throughout the first season we see Thetis being an awful influence who manipulates and gaslights Minthe. They're "friends", but it's clear Thetis does not have Minthe's best interests in mind. In this very scene we see Thetis manipulate Minthe and even attempt to get her so drunk that she won't be able to show up to her date. And then of course when that plan works and Minthe freaks out, Thetis spins it around on Minthe in a very passive-aggressive way.

But of course, the narrative has to find a way to turn this whole thing on Minthe being the bad guy. Hence we get the slap which shifts the focus entirely away from what led up to it back onto Hades who has, in a lot of ways, put her in a situation that she can't control. And of course, being in those kinds of situations does not help with mental health.

Like, sorry, I'm really going off here now, but... the slap happens in Episode 76.

When is it finally addressed again? Episode 103.

It took Rachel nearly THIRTY EPISODES to finally bring it back to Minthe, and in that time the reader has spent SEVERAL EPISODES reading about how sad and lonely Hades is, and about how cute and lovey he is with Persephone. The reader has not had ANY time to reflect on Minthe's circumstances, because it completely pivots away from her to focus on H x P as a sort of distraction from the fact that Minthe is a victim in her own right.

And when it DOES return to Minthe in 103, we get this harrowing reminder that her entire life is dependent on Hades-

And once again, here comes Thetis to the "rescue", reinforcing the negative feedback loop that Minthe is trapped in where she's put in unhealthy situations. She drags her to a bar and the whole time Minthe is not having fun because she's understandably still reeling from what happened.

Now we DO get some character development here, where Minthe realizes exactly what I've just finished explaining, that Thetis isn't her friend, that she'd rather not have Thetis as a friend than continue being talked down to and manipulated.

But then, as we know, because Rachel still needs Minthe to be the "bad guy", the breakup between Hades and Minthe winds up being all about Persephone from a POV that attempts to villainize Minthe for being "jealous" (rather than focusing on how shitty Hades actually is for having an emotional affair with Persephone to begin with) and then Minthe goes right back to hanging out with Thetis anyways for the sake of having the "evil other girl" who wants to "ruin" H x P's relationship.

It's not until Season 3 that we finally see Minthe tell Thetis to fuck off for good, but by then it's too little too late, and Minthe has lost an entire character arc. Rachel tries to go "see! Minthe's life is so much better now that she's taking care of children!" but that's an entirely different solution to a problem Minthe never had. She never got treatment for her BPD. She just got away from H x P which, while is a good thing, isn't actually analyzed as such. It's treated more as a "good thing" for H x P and the readers, because now they don't have to be subjected to Minthe's evil scheming anymore, something something "the evil is defeated". And don't even get me started on this comic's problem with constantly resolving female characters' story arcs through motherhood.

It bums me out so fucking much. Minthe deserved so much better. She's one of the many characters in LO who make it so painfully ironic when they're done dirty, because despite Rachel's attempts to write a "feminist retelling" that focuses on "moving on from trauma", she's inadvertently done more damage to feminism and the stigmas around mental health and trauma through her assassination of grounded and realistic and relatable characters like Minthe and Demeter who are shown ZERO empathy or understanding for their actions (unless it can be done so by making Persephone and Hades into the heroes). It happens so often throughout the comic it almost feels like how the comic markets itself as a "progressive feminist retelling" is some sick joke that I'm just not getting.

#ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything #lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus #lo critical

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kingofbodyrolls · 18 days

Text

Last Night in Magic Shop | pjm

Summary: You find yourself down at the local club, Magic Shop, because your best friend feels like your lovelife is dry as ice. You did not plan on meeting a handsome stranger, who moves his body like an angel, but speaks like the devil. Feeling like he might match your nasty needs, you take him home, enjoying an unforgettable night filled with pleasure.

Pairing: jimin x reader (female, “Y/N”)

Genre + AUs: strangers to lovers, one night stand, vampire!au, smut (pwp), and a little sprinkle of angst and fluff (it’s very short and minor)

Word Count: 12.5k

Rating: mature / +18

Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

Warnings: explicit smut, exhibitionism + semi public sex (they are in a car and kinda get caught and they stop), kissing, grinding, thighs (yes it’s a warning), a harness (as fashion, yes, also a warning), choking, dirty talk, power play (it’s very dynamic but they are both trying to be more dominant, lol), dom/sub undertones, pleasing kink, oral (female and male receiving), multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, biting, mentions of blood (it’s brief at the end), rough sex, but also very intimate, breast and nipple play, creampie, unprotected sex, spitting— in general this one is very dirty, flirty and rough!

Author’s note: hi!!!! This is my gift to all you lovely people that follow me, and also to everyone else too! 💜 I really want to thank you, for following me, for reading my stories, for following my recs and library and helping me to show love to all the other authors on this platform that way 🫶 Thank you, truly. This is my gift to you— for my 1k follower milestone 🥳 It actually happened some time ago, I was still writing my long series at the time, so I didn’t really have time to celebrate it, but I really wanted to, so here I am bearing a gift! It’s another filthy one, and I have so much fun writing these, because this isn’t what I normally write (I’m more the fluffy and smutty, a lot of detail and words type of gal). I appreciate you all so much, and to those few people who really interact with me by commenting, messaging me, and just being there— thank you, you are incredible and I love you so much 🥹 Thank you, I hope you enjoy this one 💜

Author’s note(2): this is pure utter filth yet again. I didn’t proofread this (I might do it later and find my stupid mistakes), but right now, I’m not in the mood. I hope it isn’t horrible, I’m feeling like that myself, but I really tried to make it extra filthy (more so than what I usually write). I do still hope that you enjoy and like it 🌸

Do you prefer to read on AO3? Well, it's posted there too!

Despite your usual aversion to clubbing—the cacophony of deafening music, the stifling heat enveloping you, your skimpy outfit clinging to your skin like a second layer—somehow, you find yourself succumbing to the relentless persuasion of your best friend, Hana, who insists on dragging you down to the pulsating heart of the local club scene, Magic Shop. Why you’re willingly diving into this chaotic abyss, well, that’s a fucking mystery even to you.

As Hana navigates the bustling bar to order drinks, you scan the crowded expanse for a spot to settle, but every booth seems occupied in this sea of bodies pulsating to the throb of the music. Amidst the frenzy, your gaze drifts inevitably to the dance floor, where a blonde haired man commands attention with his effortless grace, his movements a symphony of fluidity and raw sensuality. Mesmerized, you can’t tear your eyes away, tracing the contours of his physique, the chiseled jawline, the tantalizing glimpse of collarbones beneath his unbuttoned shirt. The way that he moves his hips, undulating and assaulting the air like he’s making love to it, sends dangerous spikes of arousal through your body. And then, your breath catches as you notice the daring accessory adorning his torso—a leather harness, snugly embracing his waist wrapped around him twice and being collected at his shoulders, with a tantalizing hint of danger, leaving you spellbound and inexplicably captivated.

No. That couldn’t possibly be your saliva glistening on the floor, could it?

“Have you found a place to sit?” Hana’s voice interrupts your trance, but as you remain transfixed, she tracks your gaze to the mesmerizing figure on the dance floor, drawing an eclectic crowd like moths to a flame. With a knowing chuckle, she realizes the source of your fixation.

“Ah... Jimin has caught your eye,” she chuckles, a mischievous smirk dancing on her lips as she wets them with the tip of her tongue. With a playful wink, she acknowledges your attraction before swiftly scanning the room for the elusive empty booth you had overlooked.

She drags you along with your drinks to an unoccupied booth, the crimson leather beckoning like a siren’s call. You both sink into the plush seats, but your attention remains tethered to Jimin, captivated by his every fluid motion.

You’re spellbound, utterly captivated by the mesmerizing display unfolding before you. How does someone possess such mastery over their own body? With each twist and turn, Jimin exudes a level of control that borders on otherworldly, his slender frame clad in skin-tight leather pants that leave little to the imagination. His thighs, robust and powerful, evoke a primal longing within you, God, what you’d do to be crushed by those.

The sound of something snapping jolts you from your trance, and you instinctively tear your gaze away from Jimin, heat flooding your cheeks and ears as you turn towards your best friend. Your heart pounds, caught between embarrassment and exhilaration, as her fingers snap, commanding your attention back to her, a silent reminder of the real world beyond your intoxicating reverie.

“You’ve got it bad for him,” she smirks, teasing and taunting in equal measure as she swirls her straw through her drink, a wicked gleam dancing in her eyes before her lips playfully encircles the straw, a silent challenge hanging in the air.

“No, I don't,” you declare, the lie hanging heavy in the air, though you’re well aware she sees right through you. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment, betraying your denial, while your gaze remains ensnared by the mesmerizing figure on the dance floor. With each pulse of the music, your heart threatens to break free from your chest, pounding an erratic rhythm of desire and apprehension.

“You and every other soul in Magic Shop,” she bursts out laughing, a knowing twinkle in her eye as she brings her drink to her lips once more, the ice clinking against the glass in rhythm with the pulsating beat of the music.

Your brows knit together in a mix of frustration and discomfort. She’s keenly aware of how long it’s been since you’ve let loose, both on the dance floor and in the bedroom. She knows the ache of longing that's settled deep within you, a silent companion during those lonely nights. And perhaps that’s why she’s orchestrated this night out, dragging you to this chaotic den of temptation, her intentions as transparent as glass: she wants you to indulge, to find release in the arms of another.

Yet, despite Hana’s persistent nudges towards potential romantic connections, you harbor little optimism for any amorous encounters tonight beyond enjoying the company of your friend. It’s not that you hold rigid standards, per se, but after navigating through numerous relationships and even dalliances with one-night stands, you’ve come to a firm conclusion: you don’t crave love, nor do you feel a pressing need for a man in your life. However, Hana sees it differently; she views your reluctance to dive back into the dating pool as a lamentable missed opportunity for some good dick, hence her relentless efforts to nudge you towards potential romantic escapades.

None of your past relationships have managed to captivate you for long; they’ve all fallen short of taming your restless spirit or fulfilling your insatiable hunger. None have been able to meet you on equal footing, to sate the voracious appetite that burns within you.

But as you watch Jimin, something shifts within you, challenging your steadfast stance on one-night stands. Holy fuck, the man’s dancing is nothing short of mesmerizing, and if you claimed you weren’t already feeling a surge of arousal just from laying eyes on him, well, that would be a blatant lie.

He might just possess the rare ability to match your intensity, your insatiable hunger for connection. He exudes an aura of irresistibility that both entices and intimidates you, knowing full well he could be too much to handle. But you revel in the thrill of the chase too much to resist the temptation of a potentially unforgettable encounter.

You find yourself unable to shake the thought: does the way he moves on the dance floor hint at his prowess between the sheets? Those hips, snapping and thrusting with such abandon, leave little to the imagination, igniting fantasies of what they could do in a more intimate setting. If only it weren’t just the air he was thrusting into…

Fuck.

A shiver of apprehension snakes down your spine as you witness the crowd parting, creating a path directly towards you. Dread coils in the pit of your stomach as you realize the magnetic force drawing him closer is aimed squarely in your direction.

His gaze, as dark as the depths of the club’s chaos, pierces through the tumult, locking onto you with a laser-like intensity. In those obsidian orbs, a potent mixture of desire, confidence, and a hint of something dangerous dances. A quick flick of his tongue over his lips sends a jolt of electricity through the air, so fleeting you almost doubt you saw it, yet you can’t shake the image of something glinting, sharp, nestled between his teeth.

Your pulse races even faster, a frantic rhythm matching the pounding bass of the music, as Hana’s kick under the table barely registers amidst the magnetic pull of Jimin’s gaze. With each step he takes toward you, the air grows thinner, suffused with the heady anticipation of his proximity. Your lungs strain for oxygen, chest heaving with each shallow breath, as he finally stands before you, a commanding presence that leaves you breathless and utterly captivated.

“Hi,” his voice is a seductive melody, dripping with a sweetness that lingers in the air like honey. His complexion, paler than the moonlight, seems to shimmer under the dim lights of the club, casting an ethereal glow that draws you in even closer.

“I haven’t seen you in The Magic Shop before. Care to dance?” His invitation is laced with an enticing charm, emphasized by the subtle swipe of his tongue over his lips, leaving them glistening with a tempting sheen. Those lips, plush and inviting, evoke a sinful allure, almost reminiscent of a Bratz doll, but with a touch of dangerous sophistication. And his eyes, simultaneously gentle yet piercing, hold a captivating depth that beckons you further into his intoxicating world.

For a fleeting moment, you’re rendered speechless, caught off guard by his proposition, until Hana’s insistent nudge against your shin reignites your senses. With a jolt, your mind snaps back into focus, racing to catch up with the whirlwind of emotions and desires swirling within you.

You can’t help but smile, warmth flooding your cheeks as a rosy hue paints your features. “Sure,” you reply, the word escaping in a breathless whisper, your heart pounding in anticipation of what the night may hold.

With a quick glance and an apologetic smile, you abandon both Hana and the untouched drink sitting before you, the promise of the dance floor eclipsing any lingering sense of guilt. She waves you off with a knowing smirk and a playful wink, seamlessly returning her attention to her own drink, her silent encouragement echoing in your mind as you navigate towards Jimin.

With a firm yet gentle grip, Jimin guides you back to the heart of the pulsating dance floor, his touch igniting a wave of electric anticipation. Envious gazes track your every move as he positions you in the center, his fingers finding their place on your hips with a confident precision. With each sway to the rhythm, the world fades away, leaving only the intoxicating connection between you and the music.

You’re enveloped in a trance-like state, surrendering to the rhythm dictated by his touch. While you may not consider yourself a skilled dancer, you grasp onto the simplicity of a few basic moves, but in this moment, you relinquish control, allowing the music to guide your every sway and dip, melding your body to its seductive melody.

Amidst the snickers and the encroaching dancers, Jimin remains unfazed, his attention steadfastly fixed on you and you alone. The world may swirl with whispers and glances, but in his eyes, there’s only the two of you, locked in a mesmerizing dance of desire and lust.

Drawing nearer, Jimin’s presence becomes almost suffocating, his breath hot against your ear as he leans in. His voice, dripping with a seductive allure that sends shivers down your spine, wraps around you like a venomous embrace. “What’s your name?” He murmurs, each word laced with a potent mixture of desire and danger, leaving you utterly captivated.

“Y/N,” you pant, the syllables escaping your lips in a breathless whisper, as if each letter were a confession of the wildfire burning within you. Your heart races like a runaway train, its thunderous beats drowning out the cacophony of the club around you. A flush of heat spreads through your body, igniting a primal fire that blazes from within, leaving you certain that every inch of you must be dripping with arousal, pooling at your feet like molten desire.

“I’m Jimin,” he introduces himself, the words carrying a weight of promise as his fingers tighten around your hips, almost leaving an imprint on your skin. You nod in silent acknowledgment, a silent understanding passing between you, as if the intensity of his touch speaks volumes more than mere words ever could.

Suddenly, he spins you around, pulling you flush against him, his dick pressing intimately against your ass as he grinds against you with an electrifying urgency. Resting his head on your shoulder, he envelops you in his intoxicating presence, the rhythm of the music pulsating through both of you. “You know,” he whispers huskily into your ear, his breath hot against your skin, “I can smell you from here. And damn, you smell so damn good.”

Your heart leaps into your throat as he playfully nips at your earlobe, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins. With a daring touch, his hand edges dangerously close to your core, his fingers trailing along the hem of your dress, hiking it up just enough to send a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

The pressure of his body against yours, the rhythmic grind of his hips, brings an undeniable awareness of the growing bulge pressing into you with every movement. Each subtle thrust sends a surge of heat coursing through you, igniting an even fiercer desire that has you practically dripping with anticipation.

Releasing your hips with a tantalizing touch, he withdraws slightly, allowing you a moment to dance before him, a silent invitation to showcase your allure. His gaze, smoldering with appreciation, traces the curves of your body as he maneuvers around you, closing the distance once more. As he resumes his sensual grind against you, you're entranced by the fluidity of his movements, lost in the intoxicating rhythm of the music and the magnetic pull of his presence.

“Are you some kind of professional dancer?” You manage to question, though the words emerge as a breathless whisper, your lip caught between your teeth in a futile attempt to contain the moan that hovers on the edge of your lips, provoked by the tantalizing roll of his hips against your own.

Awareness of the surrounding stares registers somewhere in the back of your mind, but in this pulsating sea of bodies, everyone’s lost in their own rhythm. The only thing that matters is the intoxicating sensation of Jimin’s body pressed against yours, sending waves of pleasure coursing through every fiber of your being.

He leans in once more, his voice a seductive melody laced with a tantalizing blend of sweetness and danger. “Yeah,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear, “I’m a dancer.” Each word drips with an intoxicating allure, drawing you deeper into the irresistible allure of his world.

You gulp audibly, your hands instinctively finding their place on his chest, where his heart beats with a rhythm so languid, it could almost convince you it’s ceased to beat altogether. Yet, beneath the surface, it pulses steadily, a silent testament to the calm amidst the storm of his fervent movements upon the dance floor.

You lock eyes with him, a mischievous smirk playing at the corners of your lips. “So,” you tease, your voice barely a whisper, “are you as flexible in bed as you are on the dance floor?”

He licks his lips once more, a subtle gesture that sends a jolt of anticipation coursing through you. In that fleeting moment, you catch a glimpse of something primal, something dangerously alluring flickering in the depths of his eyes. But before you can grasp it fully, it vanishes like a wisp of smoke, leaving you both captivated and curious.

His laughter spills forth, rich and raspy, a symphony that resonates deep within you, setting your senses ablaze. His eyes crinkle at the corners as his smile widens, transforming his face into a captivating portrait of mischief and allure. Leaning in close, his breath dances tantalizingly against your ear, each word a whisper that sends shivers down your spine. “Take me to your place,” he murmurs, his voice a seductive promise, “and you’ll find out.”

Your mind reels as a torrent of thoughts flood your senses.

Fuck. Is he for real?

Is this happening? Is he serious?

Pausing for a heartbeat, you draw back slightly, your gaze sweeping over him as you search for any hint of deceit or jest. The intensity of the moment demands clarity, and you refuse to be swept away without knowing if his words hold genuine intent or mere flirtatious banter.

“You heard correctly, darling. If you take me home, can I taste you?” His question hangs in the air, his eyes betraying an innocence that sharply contrasts with the sinful allure of his voice, each word dripping with a seductive promise that sets your pulse racing.

You swallow, hard, a surge of desire mingling with a tinge of apprehension as his words ignite a primal response within you. Your body betrays you, slick with anticipation, a physical manifestation of your yearning for the dangerous allure he exudes. Despite the warning bells ringing in your mind, you find yourself drawn to the danger like a moth to a flame, craving the exhilarating thrill of the unknown that he represents.

“Yes,” you moan, unable to resist the primal urge coursing through you, as you press your hips into his, igniting a symphony of pleasure that reverberates through the air, eliciting a deep, guttural groan from him.

With every passing moment, it feels like the world around you is spinning out of control, but amidst the chaos, one thing remains crystal clear: the overwhelming desire pulsating between you and him. Driven by an insatiable hunger, you seize his hand and lead him back to the booth where you and Hana were previously seated, your heart pounding with the anticipation of what’s to come.

As you approach the booth, the scene unfolds before you—Hana seated on a stranger’s lap, their lips locked in a passionate embrace. With a mixture of amusement and urgency, you gently tap her shoulder, disrupting the fervent kiss as you insert yourself back into the moment.

Hana’s face lights up as she turns to greet you, her smile infectious and her laughter filling the air with vibrant energy. “Leaving already?” She exclaims, her voice buoyant with excitement. “Enjoy yourselves!” With a carefree wave and a raucous cheer, she dives back into her passionate exchange, leaving you to embark on your own adventure.

With a sense of trust and understanding between you and Hana, you leave the club, confident that she can handle herself. However, you both value communication and keeping each other informed of your whereabouts. As you step outside, you swiftly retrieve your phone, shooting her a quick text to let her know that you and Jimin are heading to your place.

His fingers, cool against your skin in contrast to the warmth of the night air, envelop you in a sensation that sends a shiver down your spine. Yet, in this moment, the chill is a welcome contrast to the heat of the anticipation swirling around you.

“I’ve ordered an Uber,” he announces with a smirk, his eyes ablaze with desire, a hunger that mirrors your own. Your response is a throaty moan, an instinctive acknowledgment of the electrifying tension between you.

He draws nearer, his presence overwhelming as he pulls you into the circle of his arms. His lips tease over the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a trail of tingling anticipation in their wake, before tracing a path to your ear. With a husky whisper that sends shivers cascading down your spine, he confesses, “I really can’t wait to taste you.”

You whimper softly, a mixture of desire and frustration escaping with each breath. The intensity of his desire ignites a fierce longing within you, matching your own fervor for him. The anticipation is almost unbearable, every passing second stretching into an eternity as you yearn for the arrival of the Uber to whisk you away to your place where you can finally satiate the burning desire between you.

As the car pulls up, Jimin graciously holds the door open, a silent invitation into the sanctuary of the backseat. You slide in first, feeling the heat of his presence close behind as he joins you, the space between you shrinking until you’re sitting intimately close, every breath shared in the electric anticipation of what's to come.

You relay your address to the Uber driver, the words tumbling from your lips with a sense of urgency that matches the pounding of your heart. With each passing moment, you draw closer to the sanctuary of your home, to the promise of Jimin’s touch enveloping you, surrounding you, until you’re consumed by the fiery desire that burns between you.

Jimin’s lips glisten with a subtle sheen as he licks them, a tantalizing gesture that sets your senses ablaze. His touch, cool against the warmth of your skin, sends a shiver of anticipation racing down your spine as his fingers find purchase on your thigh. With your dress hitched up slightly, you can’t help but tense at the sensation, every nerve alive with the electric current of his touch.

You bite down on your lip, a surge of anticipation coursing through you as his fingers inch closer and closer to your core. Your body responds with an undeniable urgency, your arousal evident in the way your pussy clenches and glistens with desire. Every fiber of your being screams with need, your craving for him reaching a fever pitch. With his fingers poised just shy of their destination, his gaze locks with yours, a silent question hanging in the air.

“Can I?” He murmurs, his voice a husky whisper that sends a shiver down your spine.

You bite down on your lip with a fervor that borders on desperation, the taste of copper flooding your senses as you draw blood. With a sharp inhale, you part your thighs, offering him unrestricted access to the throbbing ache between them, your drenched cunt aching to be touched, to be claimed by him.

His fingers remain still, a maddening contrast to the raging desire coursing through you, and frustration begins to bubble up in the pit of your stomach. In a desperate attempt to incite movement, you roll your hips, a silent plea for his touch to ignite the fire within you. Instead, his response is unexpected, his grip on your thigh tightening with a roughness that sends a jolt of electricity racing through you.

“Use your words, pretty.”

His gaze is penetrating, holding you in a vice grip of intensity that leaves you breathless and trembling. As you feel yourself drowning in the depth of his eyes, a desperate plea escapes your lips in a whispered whimper, “Please.”

You part your legs wider, a silent invitation for him to delve deeper into the intoxicating depths of your desire. In response, he surges forward, capturing your lips with his own in a searing kiss that ignites a fiery passion between you. His lips, impossibly soft and pillowy, leave you yearning for more even as they reluctantly part from yours. As his hand finally descends to your bare pussy, stroking your exposed clit with deliberate intent, his words hang in the air like a taunt, sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. “You’re not wearing underwear,” he murmurs, his voice laced with a hint of mischief that leaves you trembling with anticipation.

You chuckle, a bold and bratty streak emerging within you as you revel in the delicious tension between you. “I’m not,” you reply, your voice laced with a playful defiance that only serves to fuel the fire between you.

He returns to kissing you with an intensity that sets your senses ablaze, the heat of his lips melding with yours in a passionate dance of desire. Each kiss is a tantalizing blend of heat and moisture, igniting a primal hunger within you. Meanwhile, his fingers continue their exploration of your core, teasing you with light strokes that send waves of pleasure rippling through your body.

Lost in the throes of ecstasy, a strangled moan escapes your lips, echoing the depth of your pleasure. As your eyes flutter open, you’re met with the stern gaze of the Uber driver reflected in the rearview mirror. Without a word spoken, his disapproving stare speaks volumes, conveying his unspoken demand with chilling clarity, leaving you both startled and exhilarated by the illicit thrill of being caught in the act.

You reluctantly pull away from Jimin’s embrace, your breath ragged and labored, a flush of embarrassment coloring your cheeks as you address both him and the Uber driver. “Sorry,” you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper, a mix of apology and urgency lacing your words. With a silent gesture to Jimin, you convey the unspoken agreement to restrain yourselves until you reach the privacy of your own home, the anticipation of what's to come only adding to the charged atmosphere between you.

Instead, you lean your head against his shoulder, seeking solace in his warmth, your hand finding its place on his thigh, tantalizingly close to the growing bulge in his pants.

The car ride feels like an eternity, every passing moment tinged with the tension of anticipation and the weight of the Uber driver’s disapproving gaze in the rearview mirror. As the vehicle finally comes to a halt in front of your apartment building, you’re met once again with the stern glare of the driver, a silent reminder of the boundaries you’ve overstepped. With a contrite nod, you silently acknowledge his unspoken reprimand, eager to escape the confines of the car and indulge in the privacy of your own space.

Jimin shadows your every move as you lead the way to the elevator, his presence a palpable force at your back. With a silent determination, you press the buttons, the soft chime signaling the arrival of the elevator. Stepping inside, the silence between you hangs heavy, the tension crackling in the air like electricity. As you press the button for the 7th floor, the doors begin to slide shut, sealing you in. Before you can react, Jimin’s hands are on you, spinning you around and pinning you against the wall with a force that steals your breath away.

His lips capture yours in a searing kiss, igniting a blaze of desire that consumes you both. As his tongue seeks entrance, you part your lips willingly, inviting him into a sensual dance of intertwining desires. Together, your tongues swirl and dance in a passionate embrace, each movement igniting a symphony of pleasure that reverberates through every fiber of your being.

A low, guttural moan escapes your lips, muffled by the intensity of the kiss as waves of heat and need cascade through your body. Every touch, every sensation leaves you burning with desire, your body aching for more of him, yearning to be consumed by the fire of his touch.

His roughness only fuels the fire burning within you, each forceful movement igniting a primal hunger that drives you wild with desire. The sensation of being pressed against the elevator wall sends shivers of excitement coursing through your body, intensifying the urgent need building between you. Unable to resist the intoxicating pull, you grind your core against his, the friction sending sparks flying and eliciting a guttural groan of pleasure from him, further fueling the fiery passion enveloping you both.

With a sudden ding, the elevator doors slide open, signaling your arrival at your floor with a jolt of anticipation.

A thin strand of saliva lingers, a tangible link between you and Jimin as you reluctantly part from his plush lips. The intensity of your kiss leaves you both breathless, panting heavily as if you’ve exerted yourselves far more than you actually have.

With a sense of urgency, you dart out of the elevator, tugging him along in your wake, each step quickened by the feverish anticipation coursing through your veins. As you approach your door, your movements become frantic, fingers fumbling in your purse in search of the keys, while his hands boldly explore the curves of your ass, fingers gripping with a hunger that mirrors your own.

A shiver of raw desire courses through you, electrifying every nerve as the keys slip from your trembling fingers. With a shaky breath, you bend down to retrieve them, the movement pressing your ass tantalizingly against his hardened dick, sending a jolt of anticipation surging through both of you.

A deep, primal growl escapes him, a guttural symphony of desire as you press your body against his, grinding against his throbbing cock with a fervor that leaves you both breathless. Finally seizing the keys, you straighten up, the charged silence between you, signaling the beginning of what promises to be an unforgettable night.

Before slipping the keys into the lock, you cast a teasing glance over your shoulder, a mischievous smirk playing on your lips as you drink in the sight of him. His eyes are dark pools of desire, wide and unblinking, reflecting a hunger that sends a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. In that moment, you recognize the potent combination of lust and danger lurking within him, a heady concoction that only serves to heighten the intensity of your desire.

As you turn the key in the lock, the door swings open, but before you can even react, Jimin’s strength propels you forward, pressing you firmly against it. With a forceful urgency, he shoves you against the wall inside, your back meeting it with a thud, his movements swift as he swiftly closes and locks the door behind him. Keys tumble from your grasp once more, but in the heat of the moment, their clatter goes unnoticed. His lips find yours again in a searing kiss, a low growl rumbling from deep within him as he hungrily seeks to devour you, his desire palpable and insatiable.

“I want you so bad, please tell me I can have you,” he pants between feverish kisses, his breath hot against your skin as he pleads for permission, his desire echoing in every word. Overwhelmed by the intensity of his passion, you respond with a soft moan, your head nodding in silent affirmation, giving yourself over completely to the irresistible pull of his longing.

In a sudden rush of boldness, you recall his desire for vocal affirmation, and with a newfound confidence, you meet his gaze head-on. “I want you too,” you declare, your voice laced with a breathless urgency. “I want to suck your dick,” you continue, your words dripping with a raw desire that sets your pulse racing.

A deep, primal groan escapes him, reverberating through your shared kiss, as he breaks away just long enough to deliver his fervent response. “No,” he breathes against your lips, his voice thick with desire. “I want to taste you,” he declares, his words a promise of untold pleasures yet to come.

With a commanding presence, he presses his body against yours, pinning you firmly to the wall as his lips hover tantalizingly close to your neck, poised over your throbbing pulse point. In a surge of passion, he dives in, his kisses and licks igniting a fervent blaze of desire that leaves you gasping for air, each grunt and growl a primal symphony of pleasure echoing through the heated embrace.

His hands roam hungrily over your hips, tracing the curves of your body with a possessive urgency that sends shivers down your spine. Meanwhile, your own hands, rendered momentarily powerless by the overwhelming intensity of his touch, hang limply at your sides, unable to resist his commanding hold.

One of his thighs effortlessly slots between yours, pressing intimately against your core and sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body. The friction ignites a primal response, coaxing a wanton moan to escape your lips, its echoes reverberating through the otherwise quiet hallway of your apartment.

As your brain snaps back to attention, your hands instinctively find their way to his hips, tracing the lines of his body with a newfound sense of purpose. With a boldness born of desire, you seek out his hardened dick, stroking him through the fabric of his pants with a firm yet teasing touch. His response is immediate and intense, a guttural moan escaping his lips and mingling with the heat of your kiss.

Your touch elicits a symphony of sweet, needy noises from him, each sound fueling the fire of your desire until you notice a subtle shift in his gaze. In that moment, something snaps within him, a primal instinct unleashed as his eyes darken with an intensity that sets your senses ablaze.

With a sudden, electrifying intensity, one of his hands ascends to your neck, his fingers curling possessively around it as he begins to exert pressure, cutting off your air supply.

The sensation of oxygen deprivation sends a rush of lightheaded euphoria coursing through you, mingling with the overwhelming arousal that pulses relentlessly through your veins. In that moment, every nerve in your body ignites with a primal hunger, the boundary between pleasure and pain blurring into a tantalizing blur of ecstasy.

With an irresistible force, he withdraws slightly, his fingers maintaining their tight grip around your neck, a gesture of rough dominance that sets your senses ablaze with anticipation. Despite the intensity of his touch, there’s a calculated restraint in his actions, a deliberate balance between aggression and control that sends a thrill coursing through your veins. As you meet his gaze, you’re ensnared by the dark depths of his eyes, which shimmer with a potent combination of desire, danger, and an unspoken promise of untold pleasures yet to come. The sensation has your stomach knotting with a heady mix of excitement and apprehension.

“Behave,” he hisses, his words a menacing command that sends a shiver down your spine as you struggle for precious air, denied by his unyielding grip. With a wicked smirk, he releases his hold on your throat, and you stagger, your body nearly buckling beneath the weight of the intensity that courses through you, threatening to send you crumbling to the floor in a dizzying haze of desire and submission.

Gasping for air, your chest heaves with the effort as you cough, the sensation of your lungs burning only fueling your resolve. With determination shining bright in your eyes, you meet his gaze head-on. “No,” you assert, your voice trembling with defiance yet laced with an undeniable sense of strength and conviction.

With a mischievous smirk playing on your lips, you lick them in anticipation before lowering yourself gracefully to the floor, your gaze locked on his with an unspoken challenge. Swift and determined, your fingers deftly find the button of his sleek black leather pants, skillfully undoing them before defying gravity and pulling them down along with his boxers, exposing him fully to your hungry gaze.

As his cock springs free, a resounding thud fills the room as it hits his stomach, the sound echoing off the walls with a palpable intensity. Thick and girthy, it stands proudly before you. While he may not boast the longest length you’ve encountered, you recognize that true pleasure lies not in size alone, but in the mastery of technique and the depth of connection shared between two bodies.

Anticipation courses through you like a current as you contemplate the possibilities of his prowess, a hunger igniting within you at the thought of experiencing his mastery firsthand. His cock, a work of art in its own right, boasts a rosy head glistening with a single droplet of precum, a tantalizing preview of the delights to come. With a confident grip, you encircle it with your hand, eliciting a hiss of pleasure from his lips as you begin to explore the contours of his dick.

With innocent doe eyes, you gaze up at him, lashes fluttering like the delicate wings of a butterfly, as you teasingly dart out your tongue to caress the glistening head of his cock. Each lick is a deliberate stroke of temptation, your movements reminiscent of savoring an ice cream cone on a scorching summer day, the taste of him a delectable treat to be savored. And all the while, your eyes remain locked with his, a silent challenge passing between you.

“You’re misbehaving,” he pants, his voice laced with a mixture of warning and desire, yet his gaze softens with an unmistakable tenderness that belies any true threat. But the allure of pushing his boundaries further is too intoxicating to resist, so you continue your ministrations with a defiant smirk, relishing in the delicious tension that crackles between you.

“But you like it, don’t you?” You tease, your voice a sultry whisper as you bat your eyes at him once more. Your hand continues its rhythmic stroking, each movement eliciting a fervent pant of pleasure from him, as the lines between restraint and abandon blur in the heat of the moment.

“I can tell,” you purr, a mischievous smirk dancing upon your lips as you lean in to kiss the head of his cock. With tantalizing finesse, your tongue traces along his slit, teasingly exploring every contour and eliciting a shiver of pleasure that courses through him like wildfire.

“Fuck,” he pants, his voice thick with desire as his body quivers under your touch, every sensation echoing with raw intensity. And oh, how you revel in it, the sheer power of your influence over him igniting a fire within you that burns with insatiable passion.

“Spit on my tongue,” you command, your voice a sultry whisper as you eagerly present your tongue before him, a bold invitation that speaks volumes of your desire. The air crackles with anticipation as you wait for his response, every moment pregnant with the promise of ecstasy.

He regards you with a questioning gaze, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re a nasty one, aren’t you?” He muses, his tone laced with a mixture of amusement and admiration.

“Yes. I’m nasty,” you assert, your voice dripping with unabashed confidence as you hold his gaze, unyielding in your demand. “Now spit in my mouth,” with an enticing flicker of your tongue, you beckon him to fulfill your desire, every nerve alive with anticipation for the illicit thrill that awaits.

Immediately complying, he spits on your awaiting tongue, a primal act of submission and passion that ignites a fiery intensity between you. With a seductive smile playing on your lips, you tease him with a playful sway of your hips before taking his dick deep into your mouth in one smooth motion.

You start with a deliberate rhythm, drawing him in with deliberate slowness that belies the fervent desire burning within you. Each inch of him fills your mouth, your throat accommodating his cock as you battle your own limits, a testament to your unwavering dedication to his pleasure. His fingers intertwine with your hair, a gentle yet commanding hold that guides and encourages you to unleash the full force of your prowess.

“Oh fuck,” he rasps, his voice trembling with raw desire as you envelop him with your mouth, every movement sending shivers of pleasure coursing through his body.

You mumble around his cock, the vibrations sending a symphony of pleasure through his body, each note echoing with the intensity of your desire.

He begins to fuck into your warm mouth with urgency, his thrusts gaining momentum with each slide, his grunts coming out in ragged breaths, sounding like he’s thoroughly out of breath.

“You’re doing so good, such a good girl,” he pants, his gaze fixated on you, your mouth enveloping him completely. The sight alone drives him wild, his arousal escalating as he feels his dick twitching inside your warm, welcoming mouth.

One of his hands grabs your cheek and pushes you further into him, your nose grazing against his dark brown pubic hair, leaving you gasping for air as you feel yourself choking on his dick.

“That’s what you get for misbehaving,” he grunts, a tug on your hair as he pulls you off his dick.

You gasp desperately for air, tears streaming down your cheeks, mingling with the saliva cascading from your lips.

Amidst your desperate panting, his chuckle pierces the air, laden with a menacing edge. Yet, fueled by your own defiance, you can’t resist the urge to unleash the brat within. With newfound fervor, you envelop him once more, your mouth moving in a wild, frenzied rhythm, eager to reclaim your dominance.

His hands grip your hair once more, tugging gently, an urgent plea in his touch. “I don’t want to come yet,” he murmurs, his voice strained with restraint and desire, a silent request for restraint echoed in his words.

Determined, you persist with fervor, each suction more insistent than the last, as if your very existence hinges on the rhythm of your movements. Sensing his impending release, his body becomes a symphony of tension and release, an exquisite dance to the crescendo of pleasure. Yet you press on, his hands now motionless in your hair, surrendering to the inevitable ecstasy building within him.

You moan softly, the vibration adding to the intensity of the moment, your cheeks hollowing as you draw him in, each breath drawn through your nose a desperate echo of your own need. Glancing up at him, you’re met with eyes ablaze, a visage of pure desire and disarray, his appearance a testament to the pleasure that courses through his veins, leaving him utterly ravished.

You press yourself further onto him, his cock delving deeper until it meets the resistance of your throat. His fingers tighten around your hair, a sensation that ignites a thrilling burn along your scalp, a welcomed discomfort that fuels your desire. With a frustrated hiss, he releases into your waiting mouth, warm liquid cascading down your throat. You fight the urge to gag, focusing on steady breaths through your nose, grounding yourself in the moment as he reaches the peak of ecstasy.

He gasps, his breath ragged, a testament to his spent state as you continue to coax out every last tremor of pleasure. He lets out a whimper, overwhelmed by the intensity, prompting you to release his dick with a satisfying pop, a glistening string of saliva bridging the connection between you once more.

“You little minx,” he pants, playfully slapping your cheek as a smirk dances on his lips, his eyes ablaze with mischief, like a wildfire of desire.

“I tried so hard not to come, but I guess you had other plans,” he chuckles, his gaze fixed on you as you lick your lips teasingly, each movement a silent invitation for more mischief.

“Yeah, the night is still young,” you declare, rising to your feet with a mischievous glint in your eyes. Without hesitation, you extend your tongue once more, and this time, Jimin eagerly spits into your waiting mouth, a wicked smile playing on his lips.

“You’re so nasty,” he smirks, leaning in to kiss you hungrily, as if he’s eager to devour every inch of your being.

When you finally pull apart, you can’t help but chuckle softly. “And you love every bit of it,” you tease, a playful glint dancing in your eyes.

He clearly revels in it, evident as he steps back, shedding his pants and boxers until they form a pool at his feet. Even his shoes aren’t spared, kicked off swiftly as he stands there, completely bare from the waist down.

Despite his softened dick, he remains an arresting sight, captivating and dangerous in his nakedness, every contour and line a testament to his allure.

With effortless strength, he hoists you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carries you through your apartment, a smirk playing on his lips. “Bedroom?” He suggests, his voice laced with anticipation.

You chuckle softly, nodding towards your right, and with a casual tap of his foot, he swings the bedroom door open. A rush of heat floods through you, your arousal evident as you feel the slick warmth between your legs, undoubtedly coating him.

He opts not to flip the switch, allowing the gentle glow from the kitchen to filter into your bedroom, casting a tantalizing veil of shadows. With a playful yet confident gesture, he tosses you onto the bed, eliciting a spontaneous burst of laughter from you, reminiscent of a lovestruck fool lost in the feelings of her crush.

You’re well aware that catching feelings wasn’t part of the plan, that this was meant to be a fleeting encounter. Yet, as the intensity of the moment swells around you, you find yourself inexplicably drawn to every sensation, every touch, every whispered word shared between you. Despite your best efforts to guard your heart, you can’t help but revel in the dizzying whirlwind of emotions swirling within you, silently acknowledging that you’re utterly captivated by every moment spent in his company.

He lingers above you, a tantalizing pause that leaves anticipation crackling in the air. Then, with a deliberate yet primal grace, he sinks to his knees at the foot of the bed, his hands firmly clasping your ankles as he draws you irresistibly closer to the edge.

With a primal hunger, he yanks your scanty dress up to your waist, a guttural growl escaping his lips as his gaze locks onto your shimmering, needy pussy, the raw desire in his eyes igniting a blazing fire within you.

“Fuck. You’re practically a waterfall down there,” he remarks, his tongue flicking out to moisten his lips as he surveys your drenched arousal.

You spread your legs invitingly, gazing down your body at him, a smirk playing on your lips. “Well, what are you waiting for? Go on, have a taste,” you challenge, your voice dripping with anticipation.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” he groans, his hands gripping your thighs and placing them over his shoulders. His mouth descends to your aching core, lips and tongue poised to give you the attention you crave.

His plush tongue meets your clit first, eliciting a frustrated moan from your lips. He sucks with the hunger of a starved man, savoring your taste. Moving down, he uses his fingers to spread your folds, allowing him to dip his tongue inside your throbbing entrance.

You pant, clenching around his probing tongue, every nerve alight with bliss, feeling as though you’ve been transported to heaven.

His tongue licks and laps at your sensitive skin, each stroke sending shivers through your trembling body. The need building inside you is almost unbearable—you crave so much more.

For a moment, his tongue plunges into your cunt, teasing and stimulating your hole. Growing impatient, your hands dart down to grip his blonde locks, fingers clenching tightly as you try to urge him on, desperate for more of his relentless attention.

He seems to get the hint, moving up to suck on your clit, his teeth grazing it just enough to make you release a soft scream.

Your body clenches, fingers gripping his hair tighter as a frustrated grunt escapes your lips.

The room fills with slurping noises, driving your mind into a frenzy of pleasure.

Suddenly, his fingers prod at your entrance, and you clench in anticipation. God, you want it—you want his fingers so bad. Honestly, you crave a lot more than just his fingers.

He pushes in one finger at first, and your breath hitches. Your walls clench around the single digit, and it doesn’t take long before you’re grinding into his hand and face, desperate for more.

Fuck, how is he so skilled with both his hands and mouth? His suction on your clit is relentless, alternating between perfect suction and expertly flattening his tongue, sending shivers down your spine as he strokes your bundle of nerves from side to side.

As a second finger joins the first in your tight hole, you gasp at the delicious stretch. It’s been a while since you’ve had sex, and Jimin’s girthy size alone suggests you’ll need ample preparation. Despite already feeling dripping with anticipation, you know the importance of proper preparation to avoid any uncomfortable burns from the stretch.

With a suction-like force around your clit, he sends you reeling, seeing stars with each electrifying sensation. His face withdraws from your pussy, yet his fingers remain firmly embedded within you, a tantalizing promise of what’s to come.

His face gleams with your essence. His eyes, deep as obsidian, flicker with desire, his lips curved into a teasing smirk as he licks them hungrily. “Think you’re ready for a third finger?”

You moan unabashedly as his fingers find that sweet spot within, every touch igniting a cascade of sensations that render you pliant. Biting your lip to stifle the cries of pleasure, you nod eagerly. “Yes,” you pant, your voice a fervent plea, “please, get me ready for your cock.”

A triumphant smirk dances on his lips as he responds with a pleased grunt, effortlessly sliding in a third finger. The stretch is undeniable, prompting you to draw in a deep breath of air to accommodate the delicious fullness. Though there’s no burning sensation, your body pulses with the intensity of your arousal, each sensation amplified by your slickness.

“You like it?” His voice, a sultry whisper, sends shivers down your spine as he inquires, his pace quickening with each determined thrust of his three fingers inside you. Your response is immediate, a chorus of moans escaping your lips in tandem with his relentless motion.

“Yes,” you gasp, feeling the intensity of his touch reverberate through every fiber of your being. Heat pools at your core, beads of sweat glistening along your hairline, as your body surrenders to the overwhelming waves of pleasure washing over you.

“Just wait until I fill you with my cock,” he murmurs, his voice laced with anticipation, his eyes smoldering with desire. “I want to see you fall apart on it. God, you’re so pretty,” he adds, his words a seductive whisper that sends shivers down your spine. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he returns to your pussy, trailing a teasing lick from his fingers buried inside you up to your throbbing clit, igniting a fire of longing within you.

“Fuck, Jimin. Please,” you pant, your voice thick with need. Every nerve in your body aches for his touch, craving the electrifying sensation of his tongue against your skin once more. You can sense the impending arrival of an orgasm, its tantalizing tendrils teasing at the edges of your consciousness, and you yearn for him to push you over the edge, to obliterate every last shred of restraint until you’re consumed by ecstasy.

“Please what?” He taunts again, his tongue teasingly tracing delicate patterns over your throbbing clit. The sensation sends waves of frustration coursing through you, igniting a fierce longing for more of his touch. You can feel the tension building within you, a potent mix of desire and impatience, as you yearn for his tongue to remain there indefinitely, granting you the blissful release you crave.

“Please make me come already!” You pant in exasperation, your fingers digging into the sheets beside your hips, a desperate plea echoing in the heated air between you.

With a shit-eating smirk, he dives back down, his mouth latching onto your clit with aggressive fervor. His relentless licking sends bolts of electricity through your body, each stroke pushing you closer to the edge. Meanwhile, his fingers continue their relentless thrusting inside you, creating a symphony of pleasure that promises to tip you over the brink of ecstasy any moment now.

As his teeth tug at your clit, a surge of electricity shoots through your body, igniting every nerve ending with anticipation. The knot in your stomach tightens with each tantalizing pull, signaling the imminent unraveling of your senses.

“Yes. Fuck. I’m gonna come, Jimin-ah! Fuck, you’re so good,” the words tumble from your lips in a breathless rush, punctuated by the primal rhythm of your panting. Your body thrashes with unrestrained pleasure, every nerve alive with the electric touch of his lips and tongue. In response, Jimin’s hand tightens around your hips, pulling you even further down into his face.

As his tongue presses down on your throbbing clit, his fingers continue their relentless thrusts, driving you wild with their rapid pace. Your muscles tighten involuntarily, signaling the imminent arrival of your climax. It’s right there, teetering on the edge, tantalizingly close as every fiber of your being aches for release.

With your body trembling on the precipice of ecstasy, he withdraws his tongue from your throbbing clit, his face shimmering with your essence. “Do you really think you deserve to come?” His question hangs in the air, a challenge laced with mischief and desire.

Frustration boils within you, your body teetering on the edge of release, craving that sweet release. With a hiss of desperation, you prop yourself up on your arms, determined to meet his gaze. “I’ll be a good girl,” you plead, your voice a whispered promise laden with need. “I’ll behave. Just let me... please, let me come.”

His tongue returns to your throbbing clit with a ferocity that reignites every nerve ending, driving you to the precipice of ecstasy faster than thought itself. Your breath catches in your throat, each ragged moan echoing the crescendo building within you. As your body tenses with anticipation, you feel the inevitable release cresting like a tidal wave, crashing over you in blissful waves. Tremors ripple through your body, held securely in his grasp, as he maintains his relentless assault of pleasure, ensuring your euphoria knows no bounds.

As the waves of ecstasy continue to crash over you, he remains steadfast in his ministrations, guiding you through the tempest of pleasure. Yet, as the intensity peaks, reaching heights almost unbearable, you signal your overwhelming sensation by grasping his hair once more, a silent plea for respite amidst the storm of sensation.

His fingers retreat, and a pang of longing fills the void they leave behind, craving the sensation of being filled with his touch once more. His gaze meets yours, ablaze with desire and urgency, mirroring the yearning that courses through your own veins.

“Was it good?” He teases, a smirk playing on his lips as he gazes down at you, observing the subtle flush painting your cheeks as you struggle to catch your breath.

“Fuck yes,” you pant, your voice husky with desire, feeling thoroughly ravished. Yet, beneath the lingering sensations, anticipation simmers, an eager yearning for him to take you with his cock, to stretch you, to fill you completely with his intoxicating presence.

He comes up to hover over you, his presence intense as he locks eyes with you. “You know what my plan is?” He murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine.

Your eyebrow raises in curiosity, your heart beating a little faster as you wait for his next move, uncertain yet intrigued.

“I want to ruin you so deeply that every touch, every kiss, every moment with another will only remind you of me,” he whispers huskily into your ear, sending shivers down your spine as your body responds to his words, your pussy clenching around emptiness at his crude words.

“You’ve already achieved that, Jimin. No other man could ever measure up to the fire you ignite within me,” you confess, your voice laden with desire and admiration, your body still thrumming with the remnants of pleasure.

Your gaze, undoubtedly dazed and intoxicated with lust, fixes on him with an urgency that speaks volumes. “Jimin,” you implore, your fingers grasping at his arms, “I need you inside me. Right now. Please fuck me.”

He rakes his hand through his disheveled hair, a dangerous glint igniting in his eyes as he bites his lip in contemplation. “Fuck,” he breathes, desire smoldering in his gaze. “I want to fuck you. Badly. But I don’t have condoms. Do you or are you okay without that?”

You hold his gaze, your voice steady despite the urgency pulsing through you. “I don’t have any condoms either,” you admit, your eyes searching his for reassurance. “But I’m on birth control and I’m clean. Are you?” Your breath steadies, anticipation threading through your words.

His voice carries a confident assurance, yet there’s a vulnerability in his eyes as he meets yours. “Yeah, I’m clean,” he confirms, his tone firm, but tinged with a hint of vulnerability, as if silently seeking your trust.

“Then fuck me already,” you say, a bashful smile playing on your lips, your eyes locked with his, daring him to make the next move.

Jimin sits up, shedding his harness like shedding inhibitions, unbuttoning his white shirt with a flourish and tossing it carelessly to the floor. Now completely naked, he embodies the essence of a god, his presence both captivating and dangerous. Every line of his form speaks of strength and sin, his lean muscles rippling beneath pale skin that seems to glow in the dim light.

His touch ignites a trail of electricity along your skin as his fingers trace the curve of your sides. With a swift motion, he seizes the fabric of your dress, lifting it over your face, and then, in one fluid movement, he strips it away, revealing your body completely to his hungry gaze.

“No bra?”

With a mischievous chuckle, you shoot him a playful wink, a silent invitation dancing in your eyes.

“You really are a wicked little thing. Were you planning to seduce someone tonight?” His smirk deepens as his gaze lingers on your exposed breasts. His hands, cool against your skin, find their way to your chest, cupping them firmly, coaxing your nipples into stiff peaks within seconds.

He chuckles, his fingers dancing lightly over your skin, teasing and tempting you, eliciting a sharp intake of breath as anticipation courses through your veins.

“No, I just revel in the freedom of my body. Restrictions aren’t my thing. Encountering you, though, was a delightful surprise,” you chuckle, feeling his fingertips tracing patterns over your nipples, each touch sending delicious shivers cascading down your spine.

His fingers encircle both of your nipples, pinching them just so, and your body arches involuntarily, a gasp escaping your lips as you pant for breath.

He guides you further up the bed, positioning your entire body for his pleasure. As he settles between your legs, his fingertips dance along your thighs, each touch sending electric waves of anticipation through your body, leaving you trembling in anticipation.

His voice, a low rumble, breaks through the charged air, his eyes seeking confirmation before he delves deeper into the intimacy between you two. “Are you ready?” He inquires, his gaze locking with yours, seeking not just consent, but a shared desire to plunge into the depths of pleasure together.

You respond with an urgent plea, your voice laden with need as you offer yourself fully to him. “Yes. Put your dick in me now,” you moan, your legs parting eagerly, beckoning him to claim you as your desire ignites the air around you.

With an air of command, he positions you, pulling your thighs onto his sides, his posture exuding dominance. As he rises to a sitting position, his dick completely hard again, standing tall and unyielding, eager to claim you once.

“You’re so wet, I can’t wait to be inside you,” he murmurs, his hand finding his cock, eliciting a guttural moan from deep within his chest.

“Fuck me, please,” you rasp, the urgency in your voice palpable. Begging isn’t your usual style, but right now, you can’t help it. You need him inside you, filling every inch of you.

As he aligns his dick with your eager entrance, a primal urgency fills the air. The anticipation builds with each teasing prod against your folds, a delicious tension mounting between you. With a low grunt, he starts to push into you, a slow and deliberate motion that sets your senses ablaze, every inch of him awakening a craving you never knew existed.

“Fucking hell, you are tight!” He pants, the raw intensity of his voice echoing the primal desire between you. With a slick ease, he slides inside, your wetness enveloping him like a long-awaited embrace, each inch stirring a tempest of pleasure that threatens to consume you both.

“Fuck. You’re so thick! It feels so good,” you moan, your voice a symphony of desire as he fills you completely. With him buried deep within, he pauses, his gaze intense and heated, a testament to the raw hunger pulsating between you, his sweat-slicked skin glistening in the dim light.

The way he stretches you is nothing short of incredible, sending waves of sensation rippling through your body. Your hands grasp onto his arms, seeking an anchor in the whirlwind of pleasure, forging a connection to him as he pushes you to the brink of ecstasy.

Then, he begins to move, drawing out slowly only to thrust back in with an irresistible force. Your gasp of pleasure is swallowed by the room as he establishes a rapid rhythm, plunging into you with a relentless urgency.

The bed jolts against the wall, the sound echoing through the room, and you know your neighbors will hear, but you couldn’t care less. You’re being thoroughly ravished, lost in the primal intensity of it all. The sheer ecstasy of the moment eclipses any concern for discretion.

He presses his weight into you, drawing you closer in an embrace that feels almost possessive. In a sudden rush of intimacy, he leans down to meet your lips, igniting a fiery kiss that seems to consume you both. As his body melds with yours, his every movement synchronized with the rhythmic pulse of his thrusts, you feel an electric connection unlike anything you've experienced before.

With tantalizing slowness, he trails kisses along your cheek, leaving a trail of warmth that sends shivers down your spine. His lips wander to your jawline, peppering it with delicate kisses before descending to the curve of your throat. There, he lingers, his mouth exploring every inch, igniting a primal desire that courses through your veins. Gradually, he moves downward, his lips now caressing your breasts with an urgency that matches the pounding of your heart.

His tongue dances sensually around your hardened nipple, sending electric pulses of pleasure coursing through your body. As his skilled hand teases and strokes the other, you arch into his touch, a symphony of sensations unraveling within you. With each gentle suck, you find yourself uttering his name in a breathless plea, lost in a whirlwind of ecstasy.

The sensation is intoxicating, a tantalizing mix of pleasure and desire that threatens to consume every inch of your being.

His closeness envelops you, his intoxicating scent mingling with yours, creating an intoxicating blend of desire. With each meeting of your hips, his warmth and the firmness of his cock hitting your sweet spot send ripples of pleasure coursing through your body, eliciting yet another primal moan from your lips.

“Jimin!” You moan, your hands instinctively flying up to his hair, fingers entwining in the soft strands as he devours your nipple, each flick of his tongue sending shockwaves of ecstasy through your body, igniting a dazzling array of stars behind your closed eyelids.

He hums and chuckles around your breasts, the vibrations sending delightful shivers down your spine, his enjoyment evident in the way he savors every gasp and whimper that escapes your lips.

Then, he shifts his mouth over to the other nipple, the suction intense and demanding, sending electrifying waves of pleasure through your body. Simultaneously, his hand finds the other nipple, tugging at it with a tantalizing mix of firmness and gentleness.

His thrusts are relentless, driving deep into you with an intensity that leaves you reeling, each plunge sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. It’s so overwhelming, you feel like you’re teetering on the edge of blissful oblivion.

With a soft pop, Jimin releases your nipple, his lips trailing a path of fire as he moves back up to your neck, planting gentle kisses that send shivers down your spine.

You pull him tighter into your embrace, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you confess, “Shit. I’m so close.” The urgency in your voice mirrors the pounding of your heart, each beat echoing the relentless rhythm of your desire.

His voice, thick with desire, resonates in your ear, sending shivers down your spine as he urges, “Come on my cock. I wanna feel you more.”

The raw, primal tone of his words sends a jolt of electricity through you, stirring an intoxicating blend of desire and anticipation. Every filthy utterance from his lips molds your insides like soft clay, leaving you trembling with an insatiable hunger for more.

His touch ignites a wildfire of sensation, each pinch and twist of your hardened peaks sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body again. You surrender to the delicious torment, your back arching instinctively as uninhibited moans escape your lips, a symphony of desire echoing through the room.

“Cream my dick, I know you can do it,” his words, a potent blend of desire and command, fuel your fervor even more. With each authoritative utterance, your need intensifies, the primal rhythm of his thrusts, his cock hitting heavenly places inside. His voice, a dark symphony of dominance, stirs something primal within you, urging you to surrender completely to the intoxicating pleasure of the moment.

With a tantalizing flick of his fingers as he pinches your nipple again, igniting a rush of sensation through your body, and a thrust that delves deeper than before, your senses blur, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of pleasure. As his dick plunges into you, reaching depths that send shockwaves of ecstasy through your core, you’re transported to the brink of euphoria. On the tender spot of your neck, he sucks a hickey there. With a primal cry that echoes through the room, you surrender to the waves of ecstasy crashing over you, releasing your essence onto his throbbing cock.

When your walls tighten around him, a low growl of pleasure escapes his lips, punctuating the intensity of the moment. “God, you’re squeezing me so tight,” he gasps, his voice laced with ecstasy. As the pressure builds within him, he can feel the impending release drawing near. “I’m gonna come soon too,” he confesses, the urgency in his tone mirroring the electric tension between you.

You pant, your chest heaving as you slowly descend from the peak of your ecstasy. Every breath feels like a blessing, leaving you in a state of serene satisfaction. Jimin’s touch has shifted, his fingers tracing gentle paths along your sides, while his hips move against yours with a newfound tenderness, each roll diving into you in a more sensual manner.

His thrusts delve even deeper, each movement driving him to the core of your being, sending shockwaves of pleasure reverberating through your body. The rhythmic collision of his hips against yours, accompanied by the tantalizing impact of his balls against your pussy, ignites a fire within you, consuming you with an insatiable hunger for more.

He hisses, a primal sound escaping his lips, as you feel the telltale twitch of his cock deep inside you, signaling his imminent release. His breath quickens, each exhale a symphony of urgency, while his once graceful movements give way to a primal frenzy. With a feverish intensity, he plunges into you, each thrust a fervent pursuit of his climax.

“Fuck, Jimin,” you pant, a symphony of pleasure and need in your voice, struggling to maintain your composure as he pounds into you with unrelenting force, each thrust igniting a wildfire of sensation within you. Despite the intensity, or perhaps because of it, you find yourself surrendering to the overwhelming pleasure, relishing every moment of his powerful onslaught.

“Shit. I’m losing control. I—, I can’t,” he begins to mumble, his voice strained with an unexpected vulnerability, and you observe a fleeting, pained expression flicker across his face.

You reach out for him, your hands cradling his face with a tender urgency. “Don’t be afraid,” you murmur, your voice a soothing melody amidst the storm of sensations. “Just let go. Come inside me and fill me up,” you whisper, your words a gentle invitation laced with a primal hunger that echoes the rhythm of your entwined bodies.

His gaze darkens, a tempest swirling in those depths, as if wrestling with unseen forces. With a guttural grunt, he appears on the verge of surrender, yet something holds him back, an inner conflict etched across his features like a turbulent battle playing out before your eyes.

With a few final, desperate thrusts, he succumbs, his release flooding into your welcoming depths, a primal grunt escaping his lips as he fills you with his heated essence, a potent mixture of ecstasy and raw desire intertwining in the heat of the moment.

Ecstasy floods your senses as you revel in the sensation of being completely filled, every nerve ending electrified with pleasure. Your toes curl involuntarily, a physical manifestation of the intense ecstasy coursing through your veins.

“Shit. I’m sorry,” his voice, filled with a mix of frustration and ecstasy, pants out an apology, his breaths ragged and heavy. It’s a symphony of emotions, the frustration of losing control mingling with the sheer bliss of the moment.

Confused by his apology, you chuckle softly, your hands finding solace in tracing patterns on his back, a silent reassurance amidst the continued rhythm of his movements within you.

His lips tenderly graze your neck, igniting a playful giggle within you. As his affection turns fervent, you relish in the sensation of him marking you, a primal instinct you love. Yet, the playful nip lingers longer, teeth sinking deeper than expected, sending a surge of arousal coursing through your veins. Your moans escalate, desire fueling your body’s response. But as the dizziness sets in and the need for air becomes desperate, a chilling realization dawns upon you—something is wrong.

Your eyelids flutter shut, a shiver racing down your spine as an icy chill envelops you, sapping away your energy. In the eerie silence that follows, darkness descends, swallowing you whole.

Someone shakes you gently, and you recognize Jimin’s touch. A warm, sticky sensation trails down your neck. Blood? The throb in your neck intensifies, a soreness radiating from the spot. Did he bite you so hard that you passed out?

“Y/N, oh my god, I’m so sorry!” His voice trembles with distress and worry as he gazes down at you, his eyes wide with panic.

“Why?” You ask, your voice slurred and heavy with exhaustion. Every word feels like an effort, and you’re overwhelmed by a bone-deep fatigue.

“I’m— I couldn’t stop,” he sobs, his voice cracking with guilt. You’re utterly baffled, trying to piece together what just happened.

“I should have told you sooner,” he mumbles, tears glistening in his eyes and his lips trembling. He looks like a completely different person from the confident man you met in Magic Shop.

“What’s wrong?” you groan in pain, attempting to move your body, but it refuses to cooperate, leaving you feeling heavy and unresponsive.

“I’m a vampire…” he confesses, his eyes lingering on your naked body, the sight of blood trickling from your neck and staining the white sheets.

“What?” Your eyes snap open, awareness flooding back as you see his tear-streaked face. Your heart aches at the sight, and you instinctively reach out, gently brushing away one of his tears.

“It’s okay. I had a feeling,” you murmur, doing your best to reassure him. When his tear-filled eyes meet yours again, you give him a soft, comforting smile.

“I think I drank too much from you. I’m so sorry. I should have asked,” he stammers, his voice heavy with shame. His eyes drop to the floor, reflecting his internal struggle. You can tell he takes immense pride in his self-control, and losing it tonight is tearing him apart.

“Jimin, it’s okay. I’m fine,” you reassure him, masking your own weakness as you attempt to sit up, your arms trembling slightly beneath you.

“It’s not fine. You passed out,” he grumbles, his expression a mix of concern and frustration, his lips forming a subtle pout.

"Oh. I did?" you ask, a flicker of confusion crossing your face as you piece together the fragments of your memory.

You take your hand up to your neck, fingers trembling slightly as they brush over the tender skin. Examining your palm, you find it smeared with a trace of blood, a stark reminder of the unexpected turn the night has taken. It’s not much though, and you guess the bleeding has almost stopped.

You reach out for him once more, closing the distance between you with a sudden, passionate kiss. The intensity of your embrace catches him off guard, his eyes widening in surprise, his lips yielding to the unexpected fervor of your touch.

When you draw back, your gaze locks onto his, unwavering and filled with a mix of emotions. “It’s still the best and most unforgettable one-night stand ever,” you declare, your words carrying a weight of sincerity and a hint of lingering desire.

He offers you a small smile that swiftly morphs into a mischievous smirk, as if he’s silently challenging you to another round.

“You know, I’m all for making this a regular thing, if you’re up for it. I mean, I don’t mind a little bite here and there. Maybe not to the point of blacking out, but everything before that? Damn, it was fucking hot,” you suggest with a playful wink, your sultry gaze locked with his, a subtle invitation lingering in the air as you moisten your lips.

An exasperated groan escapes him, his fangs emerging, sending a thrilling shiver down your spine. You extend your hand, tracing his full lips before daringly brushing your fingertips over his sharp fangs, a mixture of curiosity and arousal coursing through you.

Your gaze drifts downwards, finding his glistening dick coated in a mixture of your essence and his, standing proudly. With a seductive nibble on your lower lip, you reach out, your hand finding his throbbing cock, stroking it with deliberate intent, eliciting a low, guttural moan from him as pleasure courses through his body.

Teasingly, you inquire, “Ready to go for another round already? Got some superhuman stamina hidden in there?” Your jest is accompanied by an increase in pace, your hand working with newfound fervor, eliciting gasps of pleasure from him as his body responds eagerly to your touch.

In between gasps and needy pants, he admits, “Something like that.”

His voice, dripping with desire, sends shivers down your spine. “I’m ready for more. And you... do you really want this to be a regular thing?” His words punctuate each stroke, his pleasure palpable as he speaks.

“I’ve never found anyone who could keep up with me and my needs like this,” he confesses, his eyes closing intermittently in pure ecstasy.

“Yes, Jimin, me too,” you breathe, your voice husky with desire. “I feel like I’ve finally met my equal. You satisfy me in ways no one ever has. Please.” Your words, a soft plea, dance across his ear, sending shivers down his spine. As you feel him quivering beneath your touch, you know this connection is something truly special.

“Let me ride you,” you suggest with a sultry smile, but you’re not one to wait for permission. With a swift movement, you push him down onto the bed, eliciting a hiss of surprise followed by a deep, rumbling laugh from him. It’s a playful exchange, full of anticipation and eagerness for what’s to come.

“Fuck, I think I might be in love,” he groans, his words punctuated by a sharp intake of breath as you straddle him, aligning yourself with his throbbing cock. With a slow, deliberate movement, you sink down onto him, relishing in the now familiar, exquisite stretch that never fails to send shivers of pleasure down your spine, something you’ll never tire off.

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