but it still looks decent enough

4

Shoutout to friends who don’t fit into the clothes they bought on final sale.
Also shout out that my new BUID picture looks better than the old one.
It’s sunny(ish), I’ve prayed a lot this morning I COMPLETELY FORGOT to turn in a final in my panic last night so that has caused a decent amount of upset, prayed more about that, feel okay now. Emailed the professor and explained and hopefully that’s enough. This class is incredibly easy and the final is only worth 20%, so even if they only give me a 50% (which I don’t think they will) I’ll still get an A-. Peter came from the North End last night to lend me money until my new debit card comes in. I’m running today. All will be well. All will be well. 
Two weeks from today is my last two finals (back to back, both are two hour essay exams…. actually going to bring an ice pack for the half hour between to ice my hand)
Let’s go!!!!

Clueless (M)

Jimin/Reader

Words: 9.4k

Summary: After your apartment gets flooded, Tae let’s you stay at his apartment for a few days. But things don’t go as you had expected. Your problem? Having a crush on Jimin. His problem? Well, you’re about to find out. 

Disclaimer: You all know the drill: strong mature content ahead, clueless Jimin, sharing beds, and an unexpected suggestion. Enjoy!

It had been decided that you’d be spending at least three days at V’s house.

Apparently, your plumbing hated you, and a faucet decided to blow up without you noticing, leaving most of your apartment completely flooded. You’d managed the water flow to stop, but the damage was already done, and it seemed as though you had an entire river filling the place up. Nothing you couldn’t deal with, so you picked up your phone and texted V to ask for help.

He sent you the plumber number.

Asshole.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Tae? We’ve been friends for years, and you send me a number? It’s two in the morning!” You had yelled at him, your patience wearing thin.

“Fine! You can come to my house until that’s fixed!” He had growled before hanging the phone in your face to go back to sleep.

You managed to stuff your bag quickly with your laptop, phone charger and a few clothes before exiting your ruined apartment. Not to mention, you’d have to call the plumber and some house service to deal with all that water first thing in the morning.

After half an hour, you’d finally reached his apartment, pressing his doorbell and waiting for him, and it didn’t take long for the door to abruptly swing open to reveal a shower-dampened and half naked Jimin dressed only in some sleeping shorts.

You had not expected to be confronted by Jimin’s bare torso, but it wasn’t as if you had never seen that before.

But more importantly, it had been quite a while since you’d last seen Jimin. And your feelings for him had never wavered even apart. It had been at least a month, and it felt like too damn long. Watching BTS live videos on Youtube wasn’t quite the same, especially considering how you felt towards him.

He had dyed his hair a soft pink color again that was slightly darkened from being wet, but he somehow seemed different besides his hair color. Something about the way he was eyeing you.

Your body reacted before your mind could, a big smile on your face “Do you greet everyone dressed like that?”

Jimin leaned against the door frame, eyeing you from head to toes. “Only you, of course.”

It as a harmless tease, you knew. However, it still made your stomach do a summersault at his sultry tone.

And then he unexpectedly swung his arms around you, gripping you into a tight embrace, and you tensed briefly before you returned the gesture, hugging him as you smell the sweet scent of his shampoo.  You felt your own shirt dampen as droplets of water fell from his hair.

“I’ve missed you!” You laughed, finally breaking the embrace.

“Me too,” Jimin stepped aside, allowing you to enter before shutting the door. “You look great.”

And so did he. More than great.

You looked around, dropping your bag by the nearby couch. “Where’s Tae?”

Jimin arched one eyebrow, drying off his hair with a towel. “Tae is not here. He’s with Jungkook on some trip that lasts the three days we have off. I thought you knew.”

What? Why hadn’t he told you anything? That was weird.

“Oh,” You started, slightly confused at that information. “So, what are you doing here?”

You tried your best not to let your eyes linger too much on any part of his body that wasn’t his face, but it was proving to be harder than expected.

“I’ve been staying here whenever we get some off time. We keep each other company.” He flashed you his trademark cute grin.

Well, it made sense. They had been friends long before you had met any of them.

Jimin yawned, rubbing the towel through his hair one last time. “I’m sorry to hear about your apartment. It sucks.”

Keep reading

Perfect Ten

Summary:  Just like his freckles and bowlegs, Dean’s slight pudge has always been a part of himself that he’s never felt completely comfortable with.  After a few miserable days of unsuccessful dieting and choking down rabbit food, Cas reminds him exactly how beautiful he is.   


“You’re getting kinda chubby!”  

Charlie makes this remark lightly, offhandedly, as she passes by Dean on the way to breakfast that morning:  Dean had been stretching his arms overhead in a yawn so that his cotton shirt rode up over his stomach, which Charlie takes the opportunity to poke.

Startled, he looks down just in time to see the disconcerting way in which her fingertip sort of smushes into the soft, freckly flesh.  

Dean halts in his tracks, blinking comprehensively.  “Wait, what?”  is all he can think to say.

Charlie, who’d been nonchalantly continuing on her way down the hall, turns to look at him.  “Well, you don’t have to sound so offended about it,” she laughs.  “I didn’t mean it in a bad way or anything!”

Dean folds his arms defensively.  “Then what did you mean, Charles?”

“First of all, I answer only to Charlie, Ms. Bradbury, or the Illustrious Queen of Moondoor.  Next, I just meant you put on a couple pounds.  Maybe getting a bit of a tummy.  It’s no big deal.”

Dean looks comprehensively down at his stomach.  Now that he thinks about it, he has been eating more these days – he’s been going through sort of a “nesting period” during his relationship with Cas:  lots of baking pies, burgers, etc.  He didn’t think it was noticeable.  

Taking note of the gravity of his expression, Charlie laughs, punching him lightly in the shoulder.  “You don’t have to look so glum about it!  It’s cute.”

Dean glowers at her, tugging self consciously at his t-shirt.  “M’not cute,” he mutters grouchily.  “I’m a warrior.

Charlie laughs again.  “Alright, warrior.  Hurry up and take care of your morning breath – Kevin’s making waffles again!”

With that, Charlie skips off down the hall, leaving Dean to steep in his juices.  He lets Charlie laugh it off, of course – he knows she didn’t mean any harm – but the fact is, Dean’s always known he’s had a little bit of pudge around his midsection, and he’s always been the slightest bit insecure about it.  Just like his freckles and bowlegs, it’s one of the things about himself that he’s never particularly liked.  

His one solace was convincing himself that these features weren’t as noticeable to everyone else as they are to him.  Now, that seems to have changed.  

Dean pulls up the rim of his shirt, noting sourly the way in which his pudge protrudes slightly over the waistband of his pajama pants.

Suddenly he doesn’t feel so hungry anymore.

Keep reading

Dead (Jeff Atkins, 13 reasons)

There had been whispers about it. Jeff wasn’t a drinker to begin with. He was always the designated driver and even when he wasn’t he never had more than two or three beers. That particular night you’d been absolutely bombarded with math and science homework. He’d begged you to come to the party with him. You’d thought about it, but declined in the end. He kissed your cheek and told you he wanted to go to breakfast in the morning and that he’d be there to pick you up at 9:30. You wouldn’t be going to breakfast. In fact the next time you saw your boyfriend it was under very different circumstances. It was six hours later in the middle of the night. He was in a body bag. He was dead. Over what they called a drunk driving accident. Jeff was deemed drunk by most everyone at the scene. Everyone except you and his mother. Of course your opinion on how it happened didn’t matter as much as the fact that he was dead, whether he’d been drunk or not. You’d gone spiraling out of control. So much so that your mother forced you to take the rest of the semester off of school, joining independent studies. It didn’t do any good. You just felt more lonely. Jeff’s presence lacked even more and there was rarely a distraction. You didn’t feel any better about him being gone by the time you had finished your time in independent studies. You felt the same as when you’d first entered independent studies, so you had no problem when it came time for you to come back to school. Still a zombie, of course, and it didn’t help that your friend Hannah Baker had committed suicide during your absence from school. You knew you looked bad. You knew you had dark circles under your eyes. You knew you’d broken out from not eating right or regularly. You knew your hair was in the bun because you hadn’t bothered to shower, turning to perfume and deodorant instead. You opened your locker, shoving your books into it, you were back at it. Everyone was in their usual spots, nothing had really changed since you’d left. Except that Jessica and Justin were no longer together. Zach had gotten dumped by your best friend after the tapes were released. He’d known too much, she said, to keep it all a secret from the people who deserved to know. He’d borderline stalked her for a while. She’d threatened to move across the country with her aunt and uncle if he didn’t leave her alone. So he did. Nothing changed with Bryce. At least not yet. The fact that he was a rapist had gotten out. You’d heard things about Bryce and girls and parties, but not about Jessica and Hannah. You hid your face in your locker as you looked at your phone. You got a text every morning from Jeff’s mother. They varied in what they said. Today’s said “hello beautiful, your mom said I could pick you up after school and we could go to the mall. We also want you to stay for dinner.” You had your license but you hadn’t wanted to drive and your parents hadn’t trusted you to drive since Jeff’s accident. You were scared of cars now. You were also scared of alcohol.
“You’re back.” You hear from behind you. You turn to see Justin Foley. There’s concern in his eyes, like he knows that there’s a great chance you don’t want to be talking to him. And that you won’t forgive him. Forgive him for staying quiet when anything but that would have been a better option. He’d stayed quiet knowing his friend had raped not only Hannah baker, who would of course go on to kill herself, but his own girlfriend.
“Yeah.” You responded, not looking up from your phone as you texted Mrs. Atkins back.
“You look good.” He smiled at you. You locked your phone and slammed your locker closed, startling Justin.
“I’ve learned to accept pity but I’ll never accept being lied to, Foley.” You looked him dead in the eyes before moving to walk away.
“Seriously, Y/N! Given the circumstances you look really good. I don’t know how many people could survive what you’ve gone through.” By the end of his message he’s just white noise and you continued to walk.
“I’m not so sure I did.” You mumbled, leaving the jock in the dust. You knew he’d been having his own struggles. Hell, he’d been having his own problems since the day he’d been born to his waste of space mother. But that boy had let himself become a bystander for rape on account of somehow owing it to his rapist friend. There was no use telling him what you thought, he knew he was in the wrong and he’d heard it a lot. Marcus smiled at you as you continued down the hall. You found yourself walking towards him.
“Hey Y/N how are y-” you cut his formalities off.
“Is Y/FN at school yet?” Marcus was quite obviously caught off guard. His words fumbled together a bit.
“Uh, well, yeah. She tends to not go through the halls a lot anymore. She avoids us a lot.” Marcus explained. He didn’t give much eye contact.
“I knew that much, thanks.” Again, you were stopped before you could walk away.
“Will you guys ever talk to me again?” Zach’s familiar voice took over.
“This is your first attempt to talk to me as far as I’m concerned.” You crossed your arms. He looked as though he was in an extreme amount of pain.
“I’ve called and texted you for months.” Zach looked at the ground.
“One text of the many was you asking about me. The rest was you trying to get to Y/FN because she blocked you on everything. Your motives were not the most selfless, Zach Dempsey. Reassess yourself and your self righteous nature.” You spun on your heels and walked out of the room. You see your best friend talking to a girl named Skye, one of the only people either of you could stand the be around in the school anymore.
“Saw you talking the some henchmen.” Skye said, staring at her fingernails, which were painted black.
“Strictly to see where you were.” Skye smiled a little. Y/FN turned and hugged you.
“I’m glad you’re back, normal is what you need right now.” She said. Once you pulled away from your best friend, you saw someone coming. Clay Jenson. Lanky, kinda dorky Clay Jenson. The Clay Jenson that brought you free candy and free movie ticket vouchers after Jeff died. But this was also, and most certainly not least, the Clay Jenson featured on the tapes. The Clay Jenson that knew girls got raped, that knew a lot about the night Jeff died. Including that it wasn’t Jeff’s fault at all. In fact, he knew he wasn’t drunk and that it was Sheri that was drunk and had caused Jeff’s death. There was a handful of people that knew it wasn’t Jeff’s fault. The people that were featured on the tapes. Clay was featured on the tapes and so was Justin and so was Marcus and so was Zach. They saw you yanked out of school for being mentally unstable and not being able to understand how Jeff did this and why he was drunk at all. There were answers, and no one gave them to you until the tapes were handed to the police. You knew when the public knew. Nothing hurt more than that. And that’s why you hated those boys. And Courtney and Jessica and Alex and Tyler and every other god forsaken person who earned themselves a tape by being an insensitive asshole.
“Hey Y/N.” You looked over at Clay, his hands were stuffed in his pockets as he stared at you nervously. You looked at him, blinked twice, and looked away.
“You look good.” Silence.
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” You can feel Clay looking at you, but you won’t look at him. There’s a short pause.
“Y/N I know I should have said something to you as soon as I knew but it was a lot more complicated than it se-” you found yourself waving your hands in the air begging him to stop speaking.
“You’re going to listen for a moment.” Clay nodded, finally able to make eye contact with you.
“Jeff and I were going to apply to all the same colleges, did he ever tell you that?” Clay nodded his head. You and Jeff had already planned on marriage. Everyone knew it.
“Did you know we were going to share an apartment right away instead of dorms?” Clay gulped, looking at the other two girls nervously.
“He talked about you constantly, Y/N.” You rolled your eyes at his words.
“People have been talking about me constantly. It’s my turn to speak.” Clay shut his mouth quickly.
“Wanna know something I’m sure you weren’t aware of?” Clay’s eyes filled with more fear by the second.
“Did you know that the day after I saw Jeff dragged away in a body bag is the day I miscarried our baby?” Clay knew he wouldn’t speak but his mouth fell open from the shock and not knowing what else to do.
“So yeah, maybe you can forgive yourself for not always being there for Hannah. And maybe Jessica will forgive Justin someday and maybe, just maybe Y/FN will give Zach another chance. But guess who doesn’t have the tools or the people to move on? Me. My boyfriend is dead and my baby is dead. And my future relies on me being a zombie through life, hopefully getting decent enough grades to shuffle through the rest of my life because there will never be someone who makes me feel and love the way Jeff did. And I’ll never be able to have a baby made up of more love. Everything will be me settling because the best of what life has to offer is quite literally dead.” The bell rings but no one moves, and everyone just looks at you as hot tears stream down your face.
“Y/FN, go tell Zach how much you still love him and how much you’re willing to fight for each other. And Skye, tell Clay how you’ve been in love with him since the sixth grade and how you’d be really pumped to go out with him. Because life’s short and sometimes even shorter than expected. No time is put on this earth to be wasted. Love each other.” You let out a shaky breath before turning and heading to English class. Jeff would be proud. In that moment you knew maybe you would be fine.

LETS START A NEW TAG FOR STEVEN UNIVERSE THAT'S HATE FREE! #Steven Universe Hate Free

I see a lot of people who are often get really upset because they can’t scroll through the Steven universe tag anymore without seeing hate. I feel for the people who can’t stand looking at hate or even criticism and there’s so many people who don’t care enough to tag it as such. Asking them to be decent people is not working so lets try to start a new tag for Steven Universe content that is hate free. 

Here’s what you can do: 

  • tag your original content as #Steven Universe hate free (AND ofc you can still tag things as #Steven Universe as well so it will get noticed better. The new tags purpose is just so people can look through a general Steven universe tag but with much less hate. not to replace the old tag) 
  • Reblog and like this post to spread the word, if this post doesn’t spread then this tag will never work 

And yes, there is always going to be a few really bad apples who will put hate in the new tag to bother us… But at least this way people can avoid all of the hate that ends up in the main tag because people don’t care or know to properly tag it with #su criticism / hate.

Please please please signal boost this post to spread the word

Love Yourself - Connor x Evan

Author - K (I’m pretty sure J doesn’t really listen to musicals I’m not entirely sure)

so this is something I wrote when kind of tipsy on mango vodka and schloer. but I quite like it and hope you guys too. also, i was tipsy and now so is Evan.

~

Connor was sitting on his bed, painfully sober after only three beers, while Evan was giggling at the ceiling on the other end. Connor sighed, looking fondly at the other boy, feeling guilty that he has gotten Evan drunk. Yet, he couldn’t let himself feel too bad because he knew that Evan needed this. He needed a distraction, and Connor was putty in this boy’s hands. He would walk across hot coals just to make Evan smile. So getting a few beers into his home while his parents were away was nothing. He pushed himself up off of his bed, getting a baggy shirt and sweats that Evan had left ones of the many other nights he’d stayed there. He was planning to attempt to get Evan into them so he’s reasonably comfortable when he sleeps, but he’s that drunk that it probably wouldn’t matter if he was still in jeans or not. But, when he tried to get Evan’s top off, he went bright red and tried to bat Connor’s hands away.

He spluttered while trying to stop Connor from undressing him. “I have a boyfriend! You’re not allowed to undress me because Connor will get mad and him being mad kind of makes me want to cry.” He continued to ramble, his words slurring slightly. His heart broke slightly at Evan’s statement because Connor knew he was mad quite a lot. But he shook the thoughts away and replaced them with ‘Evan is such a lightweight. Probably because he has never drunk before.’ 

He let out a deep sigh. “I am your boyfriend, dipshit. I’m trying to get you into pyjamas so you don’t sleep in those shitty blue jeans.” Connor tried to persuade him, but Evan wasn’t having it. He kept waving him off, mumbling about how he wasn’t going to betray Connor. He would have found it adorable if he wasn’t trying to do something. Eventually, Connor gave up and sat next to Evan, laying his head in his hands and yawning, exhaustion suddenly taking over.

After a few minutes of silence, Evan spoke up. “I love Connor.” His chest tightened at Evan’s words. “I love him so much it hurts. Because sometimes I think to myself, ‘if I asked him to list everything he loves, how long would it take him to say himself?’ I’m not even sure if he would and it breaks my heart. I know he isn’t perfect and has done some shitty things, but he is getting better and loads of people don’t see that and treat him like he is some dog that they can provoke until it runs and tries to rip their face off!” Evan had slowly become slightly hysterical, crying about how amazing he feels his boyfriend is. Connor wanted to cry as well. No one had ever spoken so kindly of him. But Connor settled for holding Evan’s hand and saying sweet words to calm him down. 

When he had eventually calmed Evan down, Connor squeezed Evan’s hand. “He loves you, too. He worships you and I know he wouldn’t say he loves himself. But that list? Of things he loves? Would be filled with different things about you. He could go on for days about everything he loves about you. The only reason he doesn’t say anything day to day is because he is damaged and doesn’t show any emotions except anger. But I swear to you, he loves you.” Evan smiled warmly, looking at the floor with teary eyes before picking up the pyjamas, and slowly picking himself off the bed and to the bathroom to change.

By the time he returned, Connor was under the duvet waiting for him.When he climbed into bed, he left a decent chunk of space between him and Connor, obviously still drunk enough to think that Connor wasn’t actually Connor. But as soon as he heard Evan’s breathing even out, signalling he was asleep, he slipped an arm around his waist, pulling him closer. 

Before he went to sleep himself, he kissed Evan’s shoulder and whispered ‘I love you’. 

-

I might do a part two if you want??
-K

anonymous asked:

So like, well obviously, its gotta be Derek Nurse for the meme thing ??

MY BABE. 

  • Nursey thinks like a writer. Which is to say: his inner monologue is rambling, overcrowded, occasionally very poetic, but mostly just a giant mess. His mind is too full, and he gets lost in it. It’s not his fault. This tends to lead to longer paragraphs of thought, of close attention to the things around him, especially things (and people) he can wax poetic about.
  • Nursey’s an introvert. YOU CAN FIGHT ME ON THIS ONE. Nursey doesn’t actually talk all that much in canon–he has some close friendships, but he tends to be quiet when the whole team is together, with the exception of kegsters (when he’s…well. “Nursey Patrol” is there for a reason). I write him as being more talkative with one or two people, a chatterbox if he’s with Dex and/or Chowder because they’re his People, but more reserved and on the sidelines in a group. Which leads to:
  • Nursey is hyper-conscious of his presentation and behavior. I want to be careful with explaining this one, but it comes down to: Nursey’s a 6′2″ biracial man who grew up in the most diverse city in the world and then went to a boarding school where he had to conform to a Certain Type of Behavior (even though, from what I hear now, Andover’s gotten more diverse, though it’s still a psychologically rough place), he plays in a White as Fuck Sport, and he’s navigating academia. He is aware–at all times–of how he looks to the people around him, about how his behavior might read. I write Nursey’s anxiety as going beyond his awareness of his presentation of race and queerness, but I think that awareness is a critical thing.
  • Nursey gets angry - but is usually responsive, not reactive. Most of the times we’ve seen Nursey angry enough to yell, he’s actually making decent arguments. When he and Dex were initially fighting and Nursey called Dex privileged, he’s not wrong. When they’re fighting over Dibs and Nursey not only points out that he deserves them as well, but that Dex isn’t the only person who needs to afford room and board, he’s not wrong. He’s not making the best arguments or behaving perfectly maturely–we all saw those ear grabs, Derek–but he’s not calling names, he’s not being mean. And I think that’s an important distinction when writing the antagonistic side of Dex and Nursey’s relationship–when we see Nursey instigate, it seems to be things that are annoying (i.e. the classic sibling “stop hitting yourself!”) but not cruel. It really doesn’t seem like Nursey starts those real fights, and I wonder (ahem, fandom) how it came to be a trop that he does.
  • Nursey is funny!! Like, honestly I think he’s one of the funniest characters in the comic? His one-liners–especially in the tweets–shows a mix of deadpan humor, chirping, and what I’d argue is some self-deprecation (I’m sorry, there’s no way he wasn’t self-aware when he said “we can totally handle ourselves!” and then immediately fell down the stairs in that one tweet). I write his humor as generally dorky and sometimes self-directed, but I let him needle at other people–especially Dex and Chowder, where we see him poke most often in canon. LET NURSEY BE FUNNY Y’ALL.

Anyway I could probably write a million of these, but honestly they start veering in to headcanons as opposed to, like, “these are things that I legit believe are essential to his character based on what we’ve seen from canon.” But also, DEREK NURSE IS MY SON AND HE IS ALSO ME AND I LOVE HIM.

Pick a character I’ve written and I will explain the top ~three to five ideas/concepts/etc I keep in mind while writing that character that I believe are essential to accurately depicting them.

prove it. (m)

a/n: i dedicate this to @wonhopes because she made me realize how much kihyun wrecks me. if it wasn’t obvious enough, it’s safe to say i’ve finally accepted it.

associated with this drabble though it’s not nearly as smutty.

rivals au; 5,490 words; smut, fluff; warnings: none.
↳ when all kihyun can talk about is how good he is in bed, you decide to shut him up by telling him to put his money where he mouth is. fortunately, you both learn a few things along the way.  

Originally posted by wonhontology


If it wasn’t for the mere fact that Mrs. Fern told you who your partner was, you would’ve scoffed, maybe protested, or even blurted out a concise, “Fuck no.”

Out of all the people in the classroom, you’re stuck with him. Yoo Kihyun. The asshole with an ego bigger than Jeon Jungkook’s, and that was probably an understatement too. You can’t imagine the outcome of this, not that anyone can, but when you catch sight of his stare from across the room and a smirk spreads across his lips, you already glower at the possibilities.

Keep reading

7

Part 2

The first picture was taken in early September. My hair had grown out juuuust enough to not be complete shit, and I was getting better at my makeup. I still was waiting to feel good about myself, but at least I wasn’t hiding it anymore. Social anxiety was at an all time high. 

Once October rolled around, I felt way better about myself. I actually remember telling myself that in October, I will look better, and I was waiting endlessly for it to come. My hair (which by now I’m sure you’ve noticed is a big part of my dysphoria) was actually getting decently long, and could actually help my image instead of hurt it. I would say I passed about 75% of the time at this point. 

In late November, I uploaded another picture, this time. Each picture before this one, I look back now and hate looking at, but this one is the one where I finally can see a girl. After waiting so long in my life to see myself that way, I finally hit that point, and I was so happy. Everything was going to be great from here. 

I soon turned 21, and felt that a picture was needed, as this would be my first birthday as me. I didn’t go out or anything that night, because my ID’s still were male, and I was really self conscious about it. Plus drinking has never really been my scene. 

In mid January, I got my name legally changed. It was a huge relief to not have to see my old name on so many things. I had finally ditched the old me, and could actually not lie to someone every time I introduced myself. A few days later I took the next photo, to showcase my progress a little more. Everything started to come together. At this point, I hadn’t gotten misgendered in a while. I felt good. 

I sorta went through February without taking any pictures, but the the next one is around early March. A lot of my focus went from facial appearance to body appearance. I wanted to get a more fem body, instead of the twig I was. I’ve been working out and eating more to try and combat that, and so far things have been going well!

I was planning on doing a part 3 about body developments, but I really don’t have the self confidence of my body to do that, but perhaps one day in the future. Thanks to all who have supported me this year, and here’s to the next!

Only If You Say So - Part One

Fandom: Gotham

Pairing: Jerome Valeska x Reader

Note: So, I realized that this fic is taking too bloody long and I decided to split it in two. This first part doesn’t have any smut like I know you’re all hanging out for, but it’s gonna set the mood so-to-speak. 

Warnings: Slightly graphic?


You were just sitting around eating takeout when your home phone rang. It was odd since hardly anyone ever called the house. Usually it was reserved for random parental calls that you only ever received more than once or twice a month. With a roll of your eyes, you paused the film you were watching and went to grab it, figuring you were due for some hour long lecture.

“Hello?” You answered.

“(Y/N)?”

Perking up at the voice on the other line, your brows shot up in excitement - a reaction that would never accompany a call from your parents.

“Jimmy!” You greeted, “What can I do for - “

“Turn on the TV.”

Your smile fell into an expression of concern. Something was wrong. You’d known Jim Gordon long enough to recognize the tone of worry in his voice without even being in the same room as him.

“What channel?” You asked, rushing back into the living room and picking up the remote.

“Any.” Is all he said.

The film switched off and suddenly the familiar face of the news lady filled your television screen. “As has been reported, Channel Nine’s van was stolen this evening,” she said, “We are now getting video from the thief which we will play in hope it leads to his apprehension.”

Suddenly the screen fuzzed out and static came from the speakers before a raspy voice called out;

“Testing, testing…”

Your eyes narrowed as the camera began to focus. “Jim, what’s going on?”

“Am I live?”

In a state of shock and dread, your body completely froze in front of your television screen, your hand clutched tightly around the remote as you stared into the familiar eyes of the ginger lunatic that you had known to be dead. Your breath caught in your throat and you readjusted your grip on your phone.

“Am I on air?”

“It’s Jerome.”

Can you hear me?”

At Jim’s confirmation, your legs buckled and you stumbled backwards into the couch behind you. The room seemed to spin and you drop the remote as you collapsed. Your breathing becomes more rapid, more shallow as you try to make sense of the situation. “How?”

“Dwight, he succeeded in bringing him back -”

“ - He can’t be back, Jim. I was there. He died. He just can’t - ”

“ - Ah, screw it. Let’s do it.”

You stared blankly at your TV, your body quivering in fright. Had it not been for his red hair and the way he danced around like the showman he was, you might not have been able to recognize him. His voice was scratchy and deeper than you remembered, and his face - oh Lord, his face.

Everyone had heard about the recent uprising of facepainted nutjobs running a muck in the streets of Gotham, and you knew that they seemed to be following in the footsteps of Jerome Valeska. You also knew that a man by the name of Dwight was among them; a crazed experimentalist whom had been involved in the resurrection of Fish Mooney, Theo Galavan and many more of Gotham’s recently deceased criminals. Even you hadn’t missed the broadcasted hijacking of Channel Nine earlier that day. You had been horrified to find that Dwight had cut off Jerome’s face and had worn it as a mask, but it seemed that Jerome was not ready to part with it just yet.

His face had been neatly stapled back on; the skin stretched as to fit over his mouth and eyes without flapping about. It looked like something out of a horror movie, and you weren’t entirely certain you weren’t living one.

“Some of you may know I died.” Jerome gave a disappointed little smile. “Ah oh. And take it from me; death is dull. But coming back, that is something. Leave it to dying to give you a whole new perspective on life and I’d like to share that with you.”

“Are you still there, (Y/N)?”

You watched as Jerome turned away from the camera and approached a man that had been tied up to several explosives and barrels of flammable liquids behind him. From what you could see it was Dwight. “Yeah,” You replied, “Yeah, I’m still here.”

Jerome wiped out a lighter from behind Dwight’s ear and twirled around to the camera, giving a little bow. “Tonight, Gotham, in the darkness there are no rules. So, tonight do what you want - kill who you want - ”

He suddenly started to choke, cutting himself off from his speech to clear his throat.

“ - and when morning comes,” he then set the flame to the fuse, “you too shall be…reborn.”

Then the cackle that had been haunting you since the day you had first met him echoed from the television speakers.

“Where is he, Jim?” You hissed into the phone. “Where?!”

“Power plant across the river from HQ,” said Jim, “We’re getting a helicopter now. Where are you?”

“At home,” you told him, your voice cracking. “Directly across the river from HQ. Jim, you aren’t going to make it. Jerome’s - ”

“Jesus, (Y/N),” Jim growled. “You’ve got to get out of there. He’ll be coming for - ”

Suddenly, like an earthquake, the ground beneath your feet shook and all power went out.

“Jim?” You tried. “Jim!”

Looking down at your phone, you saw that all bars had gone, including wifi. The TV died with a faint click and all lights within the house had turned off. Dropping your phone beside the remote, you bolted up and off the couch, quickly making your way to the front door. You knew there was no point in leaving; the power plant was only a few streets away, meaning Jerome could arrive in a matter of minutes, not long enough for you to escape down the street. Locking the door, you shoved the hallway cabinet in front, hoping to give yourself a little bit more time to find a decent hiding spot.

As you ran through the house, you finally realized the huge design flaw. There were absolutely no good places to hide. The closet and under the bed might have been why too cliche for this situation, but they were your only options. Looking between them, your mind whirled. Maybe there was still time…

You were wrong.

The first knock on your door was light and playful. The next was loud and demanding. Without a second thought you bolted to your closet, pulling the door open and shoving yourself inside to the very back, behind the coats, robes and dresses. Your heart raced in fear as you pressed your back against the wall, the dust tickling your nose as you disturbed your winter clothes that hadn’t been worn in what felt like ages. The throb of your own pulse and your uneven breath were the only sounds you could hear; the low buzz of electricity having been switched off by the explosion of the Power Plant.

You could hear the rattle of the door handle. Your heart jumped in your throat and your eyes squeezed shut in anticipation. Then it stopped.

Then you heard the breaking of one of your windows.

“Honey, I’m home!”

anonymous asked:

Lately I've been thinking of Tony being really good at ballet (maybe professional ballet dancer au :p ) and Bucky loving Tony's practices or performances

YOOOO I AM HERE FOR DANCER TONY!!! So in this AU Natasha and Bucky are brother and sister (grew up in the same orphanage). Natasha clawed her way to be the prima ballerina of the Russian ballet, then decided to leave for America for reasons she does not disclose. (I know nothing about ballet troupes so this is some hand-wavy stuff. East coast gets all the best stuff smh.) Also somehow some Steve/Natasha slipped in here whoops. Look out for under the cut!


Bucky followed Natasha to America. She didn’t say why she left the troupe, but with the way her jaw clenched and her eyes went dark, he assumed something bad had happened. Luckily, her reputation preceded her, and joining a prestigious New York troupe was a matter of a well-executed pirouette and then an arabesque for good measure.

She didn’t speak much about her new troupe aside from, “The manager is terrifyingly competent.”

He hated to see her like this, tight-lipped and silently anxious, but New York… hadn’t been what they’d expected it to be. The apartment they’d had lined up fell through, the job Bucky had lined up fell through, and the only reason they even had a place to sleep at night was because Bucky had backed up a guy in a bar fight and the guy offered up his tiny apartment.

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anonymous asked:

you should make a part two to that blurb about furniture shopping but this time the ugly chair just came and you ride him on it

Part One

God this thing was ugly.  Who the hell put paisley and fish together?  You were sure Anna Wintour put it in some Vogue issue hence the reason Harry just had to have it.  Even the men who delivered it side-eyed you as they unwrapped it from the brown paper and plastic.

So here it was.  The ugliest chair you had ever seen.  And it was in your living room.  You sighed as you glanced around.  He would insist on having the chair where people could see it.  

There had to be a better place to put it though.  Some place where both of you could-

“Ohhhhhh yeah baby!”  He yelled as he emerged from the kitchen behind you.  His voice so loud it caused you to almost jump out of your skin.  He walked towards the chair, “Look at this masterpiece…how beautiful it goes with the wood?  I told you.  You just wouldn’t listen though.”

You bit your lip, the gears in your head turning as you watched him survey his monumental furniture purchase.

He was still in his workout clothes, having just returned from the gym.  His biceps were glistening with sweat and you just knew his hair was soaked with it underneath his backwards hat.  

You quirked your brows as an idea popped into your head.  

You walked towards the chair, nodding gently as you stared down at the fabric,

“Alright…I will concede that it does look decent enough with the wood floor.”  You looked up at him, “Is it comfortable?”

Harry shrugged,

“Don’t remember.  Let me check…”  He sat down, a huge grin popping up on his cheeks as he looked up at you, “Like a cloud.”

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On the subject of body language/multilingual customers

I want to preface this by saying I’m not an expert on or student of psychology. I’m working off my two+ years experience working as a cashier at a large chain grocery store in the southeast USA.

I live in Florida, in a neighborhood where the customers at my store are predominantly Hispanic or Latino. Most of those people know at least enough English to get through a transaction with me at my register, but I would say about three times out of ten, I have to stop and repeat myself in what limited Spanish I know to make sure they understand me. (I know just enough to get through a transaction where the customer had no problems.) I’m not bothered by this at all. In fact, I’m more bothered by the fact that I don’t know more in order to be more helpful. But my purpose in mentioning it is that it happens often enough that I’ve gotten a read on when it’s necessary and when it’s not.

Nine times out of ten, a multilingual customer who isn’t fluent enough to understand you is going to be paying attention to what you’re saying. They WANT to understand you. They are more insecure in their ability to get through the transaction than you are, guaranteed. Their eyes are going to be focused on you, they will probably be smiling (because smiling always, always, always helps, no sarcasm or irony), and they will have a distinct look on their face.

When you’re talking to someone and they don’t understand you, they get this look kind of like they’re still waiting on you to finish a sentence. They’re expectant. Not in an entitled way, but like they aren’t sure whether you’re finished speaking. Sometimes a customer is kind enough to say, “sorry, no English,” or, “I don’t understand.” Sometimes they don’t, and that’s okay. No one likes to admit something like that because it can be embarrassing.

If you’re a decent person and you work retail service, you can absolutely tell the difference between someone who can understand you and someone who just isn’t paying attention. It doesn’t take long to learn, and (again) a decent person won’t hold a customer’s language barrier against them.

Blackmail- Auston Matthews (Damsel in Distress Part 2)

Originally posted by hockeyfanatique

Ok so don’t talk to me about the Caps/Leafs game I’m so salty rn… Can’t we just let the kids win? Ugh… anyway here you guys go! A little Auston Matthews love! Sorry it’s late! I promise I’m getting back on schedule!

Warning:  None

@iangiemae Request: Awww, the Auston Matthews Damsel in Distress was cute. Do you think we can get a sequel? I really like your imagines.

~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

              Here you were standing and staring at the Air Canada Centre.

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Happier With You (Part Four)

Summary: Steve has had many regrets in his life, but his biggest regret was when he let you go all those years ago. Now, you’re with someone else, and you’re happy. And that’s all that Steve wants for you. But he knows that he was happier with you by his side. And deep down, you know it too.

Inspired by: Ed Sheeran’s entire Divide album.
Also, inspired by my friend, Tator Tot. Nothing spicer than Sriracha Steve.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: 1442

Previous Part: Part Three

Originally posted by ohevansmycaptain

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Knot because I love you, just because I care

A drabble for @nickillian cos she loves fake!married tropes

1k

*unbetad,sorry for the awful title 😂


“You know you have to actually lift the glass to your lips to drink the vodka.”

Emma lifted her gaze from the glass of icy spirit and smiled.

“Funnily enough I had heard that before, Jones.”

“And here I was thinking that I had stumbled upon something revelatory.”

He gestured to the seat beside her and she nodded, waiting until he ordered a drink.

It was Tuesday and The Rabbit Hole sports bar was just about as empty as she had ever seen it. She was glad of it - the last thing she needed now was to deal with a bunch of drunks even if she really wanted to get drunk herself.

His order came, alongside another vodka for her, and he paid with a crisp ten pound note before settling into the stool beside her.

“So, Swan, what brings you to Wimbledon’s only American sports bar tonight?”

He grinned, his smile bright despite how tired he looked.

“I could ask you the same,” she replied, nodding at what remained of his business attire - tie askew and shirt sleeves pushed up.

“I asked first,” he quipped, “But since you must know today I got a new job and I thought it appropriate to celebrate.”

“The one at Graham’s company?”

He nodded. “Yep, you are looking at the new deputy marketing manager for Mills Media.”

Emma smiled. She knew how much Killian had wanted a promotion and it just wasn’t happening in his current position. At least someone had good news that day.

“That’s great,” she sighed softly, staring longingly into her vodka, before quickly adding, “My visa renewal was declined today.”

“Declined?”

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My North Star (pt 5)

Originally posted by bwiseoks

A/N: So I said I make the parts shorter…I lied. I hope you like this though! Let me know if you want a part 6! and please tell me what you think of this part as well :D 

Length: 4k words

Pairing: Jin x Reader

Genre: Angst, romance, fluff

Summary: You were in love with your best friend and he was the one constant in your life. But what happens when the new girl comes along? And another guy tries to win your heart?

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Masquerade 2.1: The Birth of Red Mask

Nothing changes people more than other people. 

These 2.somethings will consist of little drabbles related to the characters in Masquerade II. (Mostly, Red Mask, because he is a complex character and there is still a lot to tell about his story, but the other characters will probably get their own drabbles eventually too ^_^)

If you haven’t already, please read Masquerade II first !!

Summary: Join Red Mask in this flashback to find out what exactly happened in his past that led him to become the very alluring man we had grown to love so dearly. 

Park Jimin ft. other characters

High school au

Some fluff, some smut, a bit of comedy, a bit of angst

A/N: I made this drabble in first person so hopefully it’s not a bit weird. It’ll be told from Jimin’s POV because I wanted you all to get a little bit deeper inside his head and hear his hopefully somewhat relatable inner monologues, so I decided to stray from my usual POV style. Please read it as if you were listening to Jimin telling you this story! Enjoy! ^_^

Originally posted by 9taefox

            I wasn’t always Red Mask.

           Contrary to what I made everyone believe, I wasn’t always this charming, good looking, attractive, sexy, incredibly skilled –

           “PARK JIMIN, please get on with your flashback!”

           You get the gist.

           I wasn’t always the person that you’ve all met. In fact, I was pretty much different. I was naive and gullible. Unconfident and timid.

           Back in my younger days, I didn’t think much about love. Love and relationships, to me, were just some sort of rite of passage. Everybody would get love. Everybody that was older than me was in a relationship. And one day soon, it was going to be my turn.

           Love to me back then was probably what most children envisioned. The passion, the romance, the butterflies, the awkward moments that end up being romantic and cute anyway. The perfect girl was someone whose hair billowed in nonexistent wind when she walked into the room, and she would flash you a smile that would stop your world for a few seconds. And when your eyes locked, you both would know that you two were destined for each other.

           Love to me seemed so simple.

           Once two people liked each other, that was that. Happily ever after!

           So I fell in “love” constantly. I use quotation marks because who, at such a young age, could truly say they were in love with someone they hardly knew? Someone they fantasized about; someone they saw through a beauty filter; someone who they thought was perfect.

           I had many, many crushes. And while I was always a proponent of nice guys being the best choice, it never turned out that way.

           I was just average in all fields. I didn’t stand out particularly. I was decent looking, but not enough to turn heads. I still possessed some of my baby fat and I later found that that made me look more childish than attractive to others. While all the girls were sweet and friendly to me, I soon realized it was because I was harmless to them.

           They didn’t even consider me an option.

           I was always, always friend-zoned.

           But I didn’t give up. No, I just stepped up my game. I found things I was good at– dancing, drawing, singing– and I tried to use that to my advantage.

           You could say Red Mask was born from the culmination of rejections and excuses that I was given throughout my years. Every time I heard “I’m sorry I don’t think of you like that” or an “Oh you’re a great friend Jimin, but I don’t have feelings for you” or my favorite one, “Oh no. I really like your friend…does he know that you like me? Can you put in a good word for me?”, I began losing my ideals and beliefs about love. That foolish yet elusive feeling.

           I became frustrated. What was I lacking? What was not good enough about me? People who I considered less talented and less good looking than me were getting girlfriends, why was I asking all the wrong ones out? Why wouldn’t anyone give me a chance??

           But then in high school, someone finally did.


           Let’s call her Temptress.

           Because she was seduction personified. She was one of the girls that bloomed early and filled in her uniform well. She walked with dignified confidence, with her large chest out and a bright smile. She knew that the boys went crazy when she smoothed her fingers through her hair, and she would lock eyes with you if you were staring, just to fluster you. Even the girls befriended her out of envy.

           She was the alpha female of my class.

           And like most of the guys in the school, I immediately fell for her.

           I gave her homework when and if she forgot it, which was often. I let her copy off my tests just so she would flash me one of her smiles and nudge me while saying, “Thanks, stud!”. I literally melted into my seat whenever she called me that.

           Eventually, I confessed that I liked her, expecting to get rejected of course, but I just couldn’t hold my feelings in anymore.


           "I like you!“ I yelled as I handed her a bouquet of roses.

           She smiled sweetly and took the flowers out of my grip. I perked up expectantly.

           "Jimin.” she called as she cupped my chin with one hand so I could look up at her.

           I gulped. “Yes?”

           "Have you ever been with a girl?“

           I, of course, being the honest, innocent kid I was, shook my head. "Never.”

           "So you’ve never…kissed anyone before?“

           She traced my lips with her delicate fingers and my heart was racing faster than an ambulance at this point. No girl had ever been this close to me, much less touched my face. It was almost always a light smack on the shoulder as a sign of gratitude or a reflex if they were laughing at something funny.

           "N-n-no.” I stammered foolishly and then mentally kicked myself for being so uncool.

           "Aww…“ she pouted. "Poor Jiminnie.”

           She leaned closer to my face, and I can honestly remember my eyes bulging out of its sockets. I wasn’t prepared. Yes, I had fantasized kissing girls more often than I’d like to admit, and in middle school, I embarrassingly tried teaching myself by watching videos and kissing pillows, but obviously those never prepared me for the real life event.

           I panicked as ten thousand plans and questions ran through my mind.

           Should I stick my lips out? Did she want tongue? What the hell do I even do with my tongue when it’s in there? (Videos don’t really show us what’s happening in there, you know, for aesthetic purposes.)

           Oh my goodness, did I brush my teeth? What did I eat for lunch? Oh no, do I have bad breath? What if she hates it after this? What if I’m TERRIBLE? How should I move my lips? Is it slow? Fast? What is slow or fast? Should I just run? What if she’s not even kissing me and I’m freaking myself out? Oh wait, I should close my eyes. Right, that’s step one.

           So I shut my eyes tightly and pursed my lips out.

           And she chuckled.

           I felt my cheeks warm up immediately. Well, chuckling was definitely not what I expected to happen in this situation. Did I screw up already?

           "You’re so cute, Park Jimin.“

           The Temptress called me CUTE. I was literally soaring, having an out of body experience.

           "Relax and follow me.” she whispered.

           Surprisingly, she didn’t back away. She simply traced my lips again to relax me and I felt my knees buckle with the sensation. Suddenly, I felt her soft lips against mine, and I pushed forward eagerly. She pulled back and laughed.

           "I told you to follow me.“ she repeated. "I’ll show you how to kiss.”

           My heart was beating rapidly. The most popular and gorgeous girl at my school just KISSED me and she’s KISSING ME AGAIN. She leaned back in and this time, I closed my eyes slowly, and took in the full feeling of her lips.

           It was steady at first. Like what little kids do to each other because they were mimicking their parents. Lip to lip, we stood there for a few seconds not moving, but despite the lack of action, I still felt my entire being tingling. Then without warning, she parted my lips with hers and slipped her lips into the space between easily. She grabbed arms and pulled our bodies flush together. I literally felt like I was on fire.

           The kiss was a bit…wetter…than I had imagined it to be. And there were no big fireworks or angels singing or anything, but damn did it feel good, especially with her breasts squishing into my chest.

           I was a hormonal teenager (but I guess that much hasn’t changed about me) and I felt my male instincts being enflamed. I followed her lead clumsily. Our teeth clashed together a lot because I really had no idea about the spatial awareness between our lips, or anything for that matter. I was just so enthused about being kissed by my crush that all I could think about was keeping my lips on hers forever. Kindly, she didn’t scold me or make fun of my lack of skill. She just pulled back a bit, adjusting herself, and kept on kissing me until I found the proper rhythm.

           Every time I made a mistake, I would apologize, but she would hear none of it and just grab my face to go back at it again. Eventually, I felt comfortable enough to grab her waist, and as if I had passed the first round boss, she gave me a reward that caused my knees to buckle immediately. Her tongue snaked into my mouth and slid against mine.

           OH. That’s what it did.

           "Oh Jimin.“ she cracked up as I literally gasped for air and stumbled back. I had lost all ability to breathe with the new sensation. Frankly, everything about the moment was overwhelming.

           Here was a beautiful girl kissing me…a lot. And not to mention that I had had the biggest crush on her for a year now. I had my first kiss and my first French kiss on the same day with the hottest girl I had ever seen.

           Talk about saving my luck.

           "Breathe Jimin. You did good.” she smiled and patted my back. “Would you like to learn more things from me?”

           My eyes widened. Was that her way of saying yes? Who was I to turn that offer down?

           "Yes, please.“ I squeaked out breathlessly.

           "Perfect.” She kissed me deeply and I swear I almost fainted on the spot. “I’ll meet you here, same time, tomorrow?”


           Obviously, I showed up bright-eyed and eager to learn the very next day. Maybe a little too eager because I showed up an hour early.

           But anyway, for an entire two weeks, we made out constantly after school. Each day, I learned new techniques by following her lead. And soon, I was pulling her moves out on her and she would become more aggressive. Until one day, on our third week of us being girlfriend and boyfriend, she invited me over her house.

           Boy, I was REALLY not prepared for what she had in mind.

           Shakily, I rang her doorbell, holding my books to my chest tightly. When the door swung open, she welcomed me wearing a thin, satin robe that left nothing to the imagination. My grip slackened and my books scattered onto the ground as I gulped. Immediately, my hands flew in front of my face to cover my eyes.

           "Wh-wha– I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have come so early before you got to change!“ I panicked.

           Temptress chuckled and pried my hands away from my face. My eyes respectfully stared above her head, not wanting to gawk at her clearly exposed body. I had never seen a naked girl in real life before. Sure, there were magazines and videos…but it was like watching a movie or reading a book. But this…this was beyond anything I had imagined, my body was hyperaware of all her curves and I found myself wondering how soft women actually felt.

           I shook my head and turned around, embarrassed as she bent down to pick up my books. Her cleavage was deep and the sides of her breasts were peeking out from the thin fabric.

           "You’re so cute Jimin.” she giggled. “Come in. I’ve been waiting for you like this.”

           I stepped inside backwards, still not wanting to rake my eyes over her body, in fear that I would do something she didn’t like.

           "I-I thought we were just going to do homework and watch TV together.“ I stumbled a little.  

           "No Jimin.” she chuckled as she grabbed my shoulders to turn me around. “When a girl invites you over after making out with you several times, they most likely mean they want to have sex with you.”

           "S-S-SEX?“

           "Yes. Please tell me you’ve at least HEARD of sex, my innocent little nugget.” she squeezed my cheeks.

           "Of course I have…I just…well… I thought we’d at least…you know love each other before thinking about that.“

           "Oh Jimin.” she shook her head and threw off her satin robe boldly. “So are you saying you don’t want to have sex with me?”

           I felt my cock twitch as my eyes were now fully allowed to peruse her body. Nothing compared to seeing a real, live, lingerie-clad female in front of me.

           "Can I?“ I reached my hand out towards her breasts curiously.

           "Please.” She took my hands and put both of them on each boob.

           "Oh my gosh.“ I gasped as I just cupped them awkwardly; my hand a little stiff, like they would pop if I pressed too hard. "Now what do I do?”

           "Massage them Jimin.“

           "Um…okay…” I moved my hands in small circles.

           "Jimin, they’re not going to break, massage hard.“ she guided my hands. "Make me feel good.”

           "O-o-okay…“

           I was sure my entire face and neck was red. Was it out of embarrassment? Out of excitement? I couldn’t exactly remember the emotion that overwhelmed me at that point. But regardless, I had never seen, much less touched a real breast before and there I was, massaging two for the first time. I hadn’t even gotten this far in my research on women.

           "Come here, Jimin.” she whispered, tilting my chin up so she could swipe her tongue across my lip.

           I moaned as her lips traveled down to my neck, as it usually did when our make out sessions escalated passionately. As a reaction, my hands worked her breast hard. My thumb accidentally swiped across her nipple through the see-through lacy fabric and I felt myself harden when she breathed desperately into my neck. Enlightened, I repeated the motion and found that it had her react in the best way. She nipped at my neck and brought her hips closer to my erection. So mustering my courage, I began drawing small circles around her nipples gently. She began grinding into me, her voice breathy and needy.

           "Come with me.“ she grabbed my hand and led me to her bedroom. "Get on the bed.”

           I nodded meekly. I was unprepared, but there was no way I was going to break this series of events. She wanted me. She wanted to have sex with me. Something I had only dreamt about. Something I thought I wouldn’t get to experience until much, much later in life.

           I lay on the bed and watched her shut her door softly. She had a supple ass, round and perky, and her legs were fairly toned. If I remember correctly, she was an athlete of sorts. My thoughts stopped short when I watched her hands come up behind her to unclip her bra. My mouth immediately became dry and there was a fire of need brewing in my lower region. My pants suddenly felt too restricting.

           "Would you like to taste?“ she smirked, probably seeing the way I was gawking at her like a starving child.

           All I could do was nod and she climbed over me. My eyes were wide with awe as she lowered her breasts in front of my face. What was I supposed to do?

           "Have a taste.” she urged.

           "Um…“ I looked around nervously. "Is like…milk going to come out or something?”

           She threw her head back and laughed. I felt myself press my body further into her bed, ashamed.

           "No, Jimin.“ she looked down at me amused. "But it’s going to make me feel really good.”

           "Um so…like…“ I nervously stuck my tongue out and licked her nipple.

           Her body reacted almost instantaneously. She sighed and her elbows buckled a little. I felt empowered so I did the same thing.

           "Suck on it, please.” she pleaded and I covered as much of her breast with my mouth. “The other hand, play with my other one.”

           I followed her instructions obediently, and watched in surprise as those simple actions had her whispering my name and rolling her hips into mine. What was this magic?

           "I’m so wet for you Jimin.“ she hummed.

           I raised an eyebrow. Wet? Did that mean I was using too much saliva on her boobs? But it didn’t sound like a bad thing.

           As if seeing my confusion, she chuckled and pulled herself out of my mouth.

           "I’m wet for you down there.” she explained.

           Oh.

           I gulped as she tugged her panties down and rolled over on her back beside me.

           "Would you like to feel?“

           I nodded, my words still failing me.

           "Give me your hand.” I did so, and she guided my fingers lower and lower…until I felt something sticky and warm. I flinched a little. What the heck was that?

           "That’s how good you made me feel.“ she smiled. "I’ll show you how to make me scream your name and beg for more.”

           I blinked. Those words flustered me, but something inside me really wanted to hear her screaming my name and begging for me, so I moved down so I could see her entrance clearly. It wasn’t as attractive as I thought it’d be. A valley of pink folds lay in front of my fingers, and I had no idea what to do about them.

           She still held my hand, guiding my thumb over a certain part of herself and she gently had me rub it. She winced and moaned, throwing her head back. I panicked, thinking that I was hurting her, but she gripped my wrist to continue. Worriedly and carefully, I continued as she writhed under my touch.

           "Put a finger inside me.“ she instructed.

           I furrowed my brows. "Where…uh… ”

           She smiled and grabbed my index finger, pushing it into one of her holes as I spazzed out at the tightness. Something was clenching around my finger and I was afraid to go any further inside. Just how far did this go? It was a weird feeling. My finger felt like they had just dipped themselves in a narrow jar of thinned out honey.

           But she shoved my finger inside and cried out. My cheeks were flushed because as scared as I was that she was in pain, her noises were turning me on. My boxers were soaked already just from how she sounded and looked. She hadn’t even touched me yet. I shivered at the thought.

           "Push in and out.“ She panted, and I began moving my finger in and out of her hole, mesmerized by the way my finger disappeared and reappeared; by the way she clutched the sheets and bucked her hips up at the command of my index finger. "Add another.”

           "But–“ I protested. There was no way another finger would fit.

           "Do it…please.” she begged.

           Did she like pain? I pushed both my index and middle finger inside her and found her stretching accordingly to the size, much to my surprise. She yelped loudly.

           "Oh my god, Jimin.“

           I decided that I very much loved hearing that phrase, in that manner, in that tone. I smirked and began pushing in and out of her with my finger.

           "Jimin…” she heaved. “Remember that place where you rubbed your thumb before?”

           I nodded as I concentrated on my fingers staying in the proper hole, maintaining the proper rhythm.

           "I need your tongue there.“

           I looked at her in disbelief. She wanted my tongue…where?

           "My tongue?”

           "Yes, taste me. Please.“

           My ears warmed at her request, but I couldn’t refuse. I licked my lips nervously. Was it edible? Would I die? Would I gag? Would she taste okay? I flicked my tongue out and pretended like I was licking ice cream; my fingers still continuing their motion.

           "Mmm…” I hummed. She didn’t taste bad at all. It was soft. It kind of felt like a small version of her lips. Her hips began moving wildly as my tongue worked its way again.

           "Oh my gosh. Yes. Like that.“ she moaned and it ignited my confidence. My body took over, wanting to taste every inch of her nether region, wanting to see how deep my fingers went. Suddenly, I felt myself being ripped from the steady motion, only to have her tongue enter my mouth. The thought of her tasting herself was a bit nauseating, but I shoved that thought away when I felt her unzipping my pants.

           "Wh-wha–” I was flustered and climbed off the bed nervously.

           "I need to return the favor.“ she grinned as she approached me, and pulled down my pants, boxers and all, in one motion.

           I covered my cock timidly. I felt so exposed. I was worried about what she thought of my body.

           "Hands off.” she swatted them away as she knelt down, and stared at me hungrily.

           Was that a good or bad thing?

           Then she opened her mouth and dipped her head down my entire length. I stumbled backwards slightly, but her grip on my hip steadied me. My eyes rolled back at the wave of pleasure that had just coursed through my body.

           "Oh…oh my…“ I moaned as she bobbed her head back and forth.

           I looked down and felt like I was about to faint at the sight. For some reason, it was extremely hott. She was on her knees in front of me, humming happily as she pleasured me expertly. And to top it off, this wasn’t a dream. It was reality. She was sucking me off and enjoying it. And when she added her tongue to the mix, my hand instinctively grabbed her head and slammed myself deeper into her throat. Then I realized what I was doing.

           "I’m so sor–”

           "Do it again.“ she looked up at me in pure delight. "I liked it.”

           She covered my length again and I bucked into her, gripping her hair tightly to keep my sanity. I needed more. I wanted more. This felt so good, it was indescribable. I was addicted. But just when I thought it was already wonderful enough, she pulled away and stated something that had me leaking shamefully.

           "I need you inside me.“

           When I agreed with her using a subtle nod, she handed me a condom wrapper, "Here. I’m not planning to get pregnant anytime soon, so I always have some protection on me.”

           I nodded understandably and fumbled to open it with much difficulty. I must’ve looked extremely foolish because she gently ripped it open for me. With my hands shaking, I took the rubber and tried to line it with the tip of my cock, but it kept missing. I was growing anxious by the second.

           "Relax.“ she guided my hands and I was able to roll it down easily.

           I took a deep breath. I still couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that this was all happening.

           "Since it’s your first time, how about I top for now?”

           "Top what?“ I tilted my head inquisitively.

           She looked at me amused. "Lay on the bed, Jimin.”

           I got back into the sea of blankets, my heart racing incredibly fast. I was dazed and beyond myself. I wanted the pleasure back, the high that I was climbing to a few minutes ago with her mouth around my dick. I felt the bed dip a few seconds later and she soon straddled me. Her warmth was right above my cock and my breathing became labored as she pushed herself down. I groaned and grabbed her thighs tightly. What was this feeling of unrivaled pleasure and electricity? My blood rushed downwards and I was sweating profusely. This had to be illegal.

           But I was wrong.

           When she started riding me, first slowly then roughly, THAT was illegal. Embarrassingly though, I finished quickly, releasing myself before she even built up to her climax. But she didn’t press further; she slid off of me with a satisfied smile.

           "It happens during your first time. Don’t worry.“ she cuddled beside me after I had thrown the condom out and plopped onto the bed. I was extremely sleepy and exhausted for some reason. I hadn’t even done much, but it felt like I had worked out intensely. "We’ll be doing this a lot more often and you’ll be great.”

           She whispered into my ear as I was lulled into sleep.


           And she was true to her word. Every time we met up, it would end up with our bodies tangled in her bed, sweaty and panting. She taught me a lot, and I learned a lot about women and my own body from our sessions. We hardly saw each other in school, but knowing that we had a set time to meet up afterwards, made it all better. I mean, girlfriends and boyfriends didn’t HAVE to be attached to each other all day. Although, I did really want to walk to class holding her hand, flaunting that I, Park Jimin, was dating the Temptress.

           But I soon found that I had been deluding myself all along.

           I decided to search for her during lunch time one day. I had seen her walk out with one of the popular guys so I followed her, worried that he would ask her out or something like that. I lost their track, so I wandered around. They were heading towards the bleachers for some reason so I perused the area. I was about to give up when I heard a very familiar moan coming from underneath the bleachers.

           Nervously, I journeyed there and found the popular guy rocking into her roughly while she grinned, her face painted with pleasure. I stood there in horror. I knew I should’ve ran. I knew I shouldn’t have stared, but I was floored. What was she doing? Why was she looking so happy to have someone else inside her? Why?

           They both finished and only then did she notice me.

           "Oh. Jimin. Hi!“ She beamed as she patted down her skirt. She dangerously had no underwear underneath, but it had given the other man easy access. "Did you want some to? It’ll be easy to slip inside me now.”

           I stared at her, nearing tears.

           "Why…what’re you…“ I couldn’t form any coherent sentences because I was so overwhelmingly upset.

           "Oh honey. Did you really think I was your girlfriend?” she chuckled as she walked over to me.

           "But you kissed me and we had…“ I leaned over to whisper (because I thought it was such a taboo word at the time). ”…sex.“

           "Oh Jimin.” she looked at me sympathetically. “I felt sorry for you. It was clear you were new to everything and I wanted to help you out.”

           "What? But the sex…you said I was amazing. It felt amazing!“

           "Oh sweetie.” She giggled as the popular guy approached her, giving her a warm embrace from behind. “Sex feels amazing even when you don’t love someone. And most of the time, people don’t do it for love anymore. That’s so old fashioned. And if you wanted it to be so special, don’t you think you should’ve been more careful about who you had your first time with?”

           She cupped my face gently, and I was torn between chucking her hand away, having seen her touching another man with it, and holding onto it tightly, afraid that the only girl who had ever shown interest in me would disappear.

           "You have a lot of potential, Jimin. I sensed it in you all along. Out of all the guys I taught, your skills genuinely turned me on. And if you’re looking to learn more in the bedroom, you know how to reach me. I really think you would be fantastic in bed with more lessons. But let’s make it clear that this doesn’t mean we’re in a relationship, okay?“

           I hung my head down, mind blown. In those few minutes, my entire notion of love and sex was shattered. But I nodded. If there was one thing I understood from everything she said, it was that she didn’t love me at all.

           But I refused to believe that she didn’t like me.


           I remained naive and foolish, and I continued to go for lessons at her house, doing my best to learn how to please her, reveling in the way she focused on just me when my fingers or my dick was inside her. Just for that moment in time, I wanted to believe that she was attracted to me, that if I could show her just how amazing I was in bed, she wouldn’t need to go to anyone else. I was determined to make her fall for me, by being the best of her pupils.  

           But one day, my plans were foiled.

           "Jimin. We have to stop this.” She smiled warmly. She had asked to see me after school and I thought we were going to try something new excitedly. But she had actually called me out to sever whatever it was that we were doing. “I found someone that I want to keep forever.”

           "What?“ I felt the wind get knocked out of me.

           "I have a boyfriend now, and you’ve honestly learned everything I could teach you and mastered it.” she grinned as she caressed my cheek. “I am so proud of you.”

           In anger, I slapped her hand away and sprinted from her, ignoring her calling my name. If she had wanted a boyfriend, why hadn’t she chosen me? If she had wanted to be in a stable relationship, I was always there, waiting for her. I was infuriated and couldn’t see which way I was going so I ended up bumping into someone in the middle of the hallway.

           In my rage and pain, only one thought coursed through me –I wanted to feel someone want me, even if it was forcefully. The girl looked up at me surprised as I stared at her. She was pretty. So I grabbed her face and pressed my lips against hers. She struggled a bit, but soon relaxed and kissed me back.

           "Do you want to have sex with me?“ I breathed desperately against her lips.

           Surprisingly, she nodded, blushing profusely. So I took her to an empty classroom and pleasured her the only way I knew how. I touched her the way the Temptress enjoyed, finding that it wasn’t just specific to her; it worked on girls in general. I was prepared with a condom, and I released my frustrations and desires into this girl, who just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. But she had agreed without questions, so I just let go and did what I wanted until we were both satisfied.

           "Wow…that was great…” the girl heaved as she slipped back into her uniform.

           "Yeah. Thanks. I needed to just get that out of my system.“ I ruffled my hair.

           "What?”

           "Thanks for that.“ I smiled at her.

           "Wait…you didn’t have feelings for me?”

           "Oh…no. I’m not even sure who you are.“ I blinked.

           In the next second, I felt a sting on my cheek, and it didn’t dawn on me until a few seconds after that I had just gotten slapped.

           "We’ve been in the same class for years you asshole!” She hissed and ran out of the classroom, leaving me stunned, but not feeling guilty in the slightest.

           It was her fault for making assumptions, just as it was mine with Temptress. 

          So with renewed vigor, I pursued Temptress seriously this time around. My pride and my social standing didn’t matter anymore as long as it ended with me getting her. I professed my love to her childishly and boldly. In front of school, in the middle of school, after school. I showered her with roses, made her lunch, anything that I could think of to have her look my way.

           But she soon had enough.


           "I need you to stop this, Jimin. I will never be with you. You need to get over me and move on.“ Temptress crossed her arms angrily.

           "You’re the only girl I ever wanted to be with. I wanted the person I shared my first time with to be my one and only. I truly believe that we’re meant to be.” I confessed desperately.

           "Jimin, whatever you think we were is only in your head. I was seeing about five other guys while we were having lessons. And I slept with someone right after you left my house every single time we had sex.“ she admitted.

           I gawked at her, not believing what I was hearing. I really wasn’t the only one. I never was the only one.

           "Jimin. You’re forcing your ideals and desires on me when you don’t know the first thing about me. And besides, love hurts. So why bother with it? Sex is enough to keep me happy. I don’t want anything other than that. It’s too much.”

           "But you have a boyfriend?“

           She laughed. "Yeah. He’s hott, fantastic in bed, and rich, but I don’t love him. I do want to keep him as long as I can though.”

           I collapsed on my knees, overwhelmed.

           "Goodbye Jimin.“

           As she walked away, I felt my world crashing down and I wondered if everybody around me was actually the person I was seeing. Did everyone have a darker side to them? Did everyone feel this nonchalant about hurting someone else? Did everyone think of love as something so trivial and unnecessary? Was I not worth loving?

           I was filled with doubts and trust issues. I was terrified of getting hurt again. Day after day, I was traumatized by past memories and the unknown future, all the times that I had gotten rejected.

           To make matters worse, the girl that had turned out to be in the same class as me, had told everyone about how I had used her. I was permanently labeled as a playboy and gossips ravaged that I toyed with women’s feelings, that my nice facade had all been an act to get close enough to use them for their body. 

           I was isolated, bullied, and looked down upon. The girls that had been so nice to me before distanced themselves and began looking at me with wary eyes constantly, like I had betrayed them, when in truth, it was I that had been betrayed. 

           And finally, one day, as I stared at myself in the mirror, it all clicked. A switch was flipped inside me, and I smirked at my reflection. I had had enough of it all.

           "Fine. If it’s a playboy they see,” I combed my hair up, exposing my forehead. “then a playboy they’ll get. Park Jimin doesn’t need love. Sex is enough to make me happy.”

           I accepted my fate, and became the bad boy openly. Once I embraced that side of myself, I realized that women fell and swooned for me. I had the power of seduction at my fingertips all along, but I had been suppressing it, believing that nice guys were what girls wanted. Even women thought they wanted good guys, yet they still found themselves magnetized towards the bad boys for some reason.

           No longer was I friend zoned. No longer was I not seen as an option. No longer did I take a backseat to all the other guys. No longer did I set myself up to get hurt.

           Until of course, I fell in love with someone just as excellent in bed and just as attractive as I was. And it made me realize that I no longer wanted to live that kind of life and be that kind of person. So now, here I am with a successful job and a beautiful girlfriend who I am insanely in love with. And hell, I have the best sex life ever!

           Yet, when I received an ominous letter, I sat in my living room, staring at it in horror; the flood of negative emotions coming back to me. Three simple words froze time and whisked me back to the days when I was the most vulnerable, to the days that had started it all, to the days that had given birth to Red Mask: High School Reunion.

2.2: THE REUNION (COMING TOMORROW)