#Dude I started working on this in fucking march and only just now finished it. I STILL LIKE IT BUT . ourgh

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Besotted 9

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, virginity loss, age gap, 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: your new neighbour brings intrigue and a bit of danger.

Characters: ex-con!Bucky Barnes (silverfox)

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. 💖

"You're fucking cheating dude," Sterling sweeps the plastic chips from the table.

Colin and Trent cackle and Ryan cradles his head, a few too many cans stacked around him. The other girls giggle as they set on the foldout sofa. You watch from your perch near the window, uneasy from your run-in. You're almost sober. 

"You're a sore loser," Trent hurls back and belches. "And drinking all my beer." 

"The fuck ever. You said help myself." 

"Not much help can save you," Colin chirps. 

"Would you all stop whining? God, little boys," Angelique cackles. 

"Little boys?" Trent scoffs. "Not what you said last time--" 

"Average at best," she retorts. 

"Compared to some," Colin smirks, catching your eye. You glower and look at the wall. He's such a slime, yet you have bigger things to worry about. 

You turn and peer out over the deck. You squint into the dim blue and the stirring waves beyond the coastline. Did Bucky really mean it? Is he really watching you? 

Well, he said it himself. He told you, he warned you, how many times, and you were so set on what you wanted. So much so that you just didn't care about what he wanted. You can't really blame him after all. 

You put your palms to your neck and shudder. He said he went to prison. What did he do? You should have worried about that sooner... you should have thought a lot more about all of this. 

"Missing the geezer?" Harley snarks as she struts up, another bottle of neon swill in hand. 

"No, I'm just... tired. The sun..." you shrug, unable to finish the lie. Half a lie; you are exhausted. 

"You didn't tell us everything," Hazel approaches. "How big was it?" 

"Jesus," you gasp. 

"Oh, your prude days are over," Tracy snorts. "So," she puts her hands up before her, "tell me when." She starts to move them apart and you scoff.  

You roll your eyes as heat creeps up your neck. You want to stop thinking about him. Desperately so. You want to believe that if you do, he'll just go away. Bucky was great but scary. You played with fire and now you don't want to get burned any more than you already have. 

"You guys are children," you push away from the window frame and march buy them. "I need some air." 

"Were his pubes grey? Like one of those scouring sponges?" Colin taunts. 

You ignore him with a shake of your head and stomp behind his chair. You feel the air stir as he reaches for you. You dodge him and storm out into the balmy evening. The door snaps shut behind you and you huff. 

You cross your arms and pace up and down the porch. The boards creak and have you spinning with paranoia. You stop and stare out into the trees. It's too dangerous for anyone to be out there. Even him. 

You sit on the top step and lean your elbows on your knees. You cradle your head. You think about all the red flags you raced past. That shady bar and his bruised knuckles. Did he hurt someone that day? 

Then there's that other chill. Not fear, but deeper. The way he made you feel. His patience, his calm intent as he devoured you bit by bit. It was amazing but you're young and it just doesn't make sense. What do you really know about Bucky? You don't even know why he went to prison. People don't go for stealing five cent candy... 

The door swings open and the hinges squeak. You don't look up. It's probably Angelique coming to tell you you're being a buzz killer. Not really. You separated yourself from the situation. Better then sticking around and moping. She only knows how to make her problems everyone else's. You could blame her for all of this. She dared you to do it. Still, you did it. 

Footsteps tramp heavily up next to you and hop down on the second step. Colin drops beside you on the step and slings his arm over your shoulder. You shrug him off as he snickers. 

"You know, the old man's not around..." 

"Stop," you mutter and cross your arms. 

"Come on. It's vacation. Have a little fun," he plants his hand behind you, leaning against you. "I've been hard all day." 

"You've been a creep forever," you sneer. "I want you to go away." 

"Why? I mean. You wear that suit all day, ready to pop out, and you expect me not to notice?" He slides closer, nearly crushing you against the railing. 

"I didn't wear it for you," you push your elbow into his side. "Take a hint, buddy." 

"I took all the hints," he caress the top of your ass. 

You growl and lift your hand. You reel back but before you can swing, he flies forward and lands at the bottom of the steps. You squeal and look up as a deep black shadow puffs above you. Bucky steps to the edge of the top stair as Colin wheezes on the ground. 

"What-- How--" You stand and he catches your upper arm. 

"You're leaving. Now." He snarls. 

"Bucky, I was dealing with him--" 

Colin coughs as he writhes in the dirt. 

"Sure you were. Barely," he growls. "I seen men like him in the pen. Animals. He wasn't gonna stop." 

"Let go--" 

To your surprise, he does, but only to barrel down the stairs. He grabs Colin as he tries to sit up, gripping his wrist as he pushes his middle finger back. The pop of his joint roils in your stomach. Colin hollers. 

"Bucky!" You hurtle down and latch onto him. 

"Fucker! Touching my woman," he grabs another finger. "Wanna see what happens to rats like you--" 

"Bucky! Stop. Please. Don't hurt him--" 

"What the fuck is this?" Angelique's whiny screech comes from behind a flash. You turn as she lights up the seen with her phone. "Oh my god! Are you serious?" She slams each foot down as she crosses the porch. "You invited this loser? Withou even asking?" 

"No, I--" You cling to Bucky as you tug on him. "I didn't--" 

"Don't fucking worry," he throws Colin's arm away and boots him in the side. "I don't wanna fucking be here." He turns to face the others as they follow the chaos outside. "I came here to take her away from you filth." 

"Filth?" Harley gasps. "Excuse you. You might be hot as fuck but you can't talk to us like that." 

Bucky walks up the steps calmly. "You gonna stop me?" 

Harley backs up and grabs onto Hazel. Both of them hide behind Sterling who just stares, a drunken droop in his eyelids. The others gape, sharing looks as aimless as your own. What do you do? 

You're jostled from behind and stumble. Colin staggers up the steps only for Bucky to spin and send him plummeting again. The crack of his fist carries up into the sky. He shakes out his fingers then points at you. 

"Go get your stuff. Now." 

The thunder of his voice, the violence he's wrought, it has your throat in a snare. You can't breathe, you can't think. Why is he doing this?

"What the fuck--" Kissie exclaims. 

"Bucky, please--" you put your hands up. "Don't hurt anyone else, okay? I'm going to.... I'm going to get my things. Alright? Just no more hitting." 

He glares at you then tilts his head. "Five minutes." 

You gulp and sidle past him. As you get to the top of the steps and Angelique postures, "yeah, get the fuck out of here, slut." 

You flinch. It was always a joke before. Whore, slut, bitch; not anymore. The venom in her voice makes your insides sour. 

"Ang?" 

"You ruined this whole fucking night," she shoves you. 

She squeals as suddenly her arm is wrenched back. Bucky spins her, pulling her wrist between her shoulder blades. Trent and Sterling step up but Bucky doesn't relent. 

"Trying it, you skinny fuckers," he barks. 

They stop. Trent clears his throat, "look, dude, let her go and get out of here." 

"I will," Bucky looks at you. "Go on, doll. Before anyone else does something stupid." 

You look at him. His face is cast in darkness but you feel the anger roiling off him. You turn and flit inside. The door is caught behind you. 

"Are you fucking serious? You brought that criminal here?!" Harley's on your heels. "He's hurting Angie." 

"I'm going, okay? I'll get rid of him." 

"Doesn't change that you led him here--" 

"Would you shut up?" You grab our phone and spin to face her. "And grow the fuck up. Stop whining. All of you are so immature and maybe I'm better off without you. Even if it's with him." 

Ryan falls out of his chair and belches. "Shhhhhh, sleep." You stare at him as he all but reaffirms your statement. You frown at Harley and throw your hands up. 

"Wow, you're a bitch," she sneers. 

"Sure. Yeah, whatever you say," you drop your shoulders and brush by her. 

You go down the hall and grab your bag out of the room. You turn back and ignore Harley and Hazel as they stand just inside the door.

You step out, your stomach plunging, the sudden drop of your heart nearly folding your legs. Kissie is down with Colin as he whimpers and holds his hand. Bucky release Angelique and she whines. She stops a few inches from you. 

"Get the fuck out of here!" She snivels and bats her lashes against a wall of tears. 

You don't say a word. You're too embarrassed, too afraid. You don't have much of a choice. Your so-called friends wouldn't let you stay even if you could stand up to Bucky. What friends? Shouldn't they protect you like they did Angelique? 

Bucky grabs onto your wrist as you near and drags you down the steps. You stumble but keep your feet moving. You don't look back. You can hear Angelique hurling insults under her breath as everyone else comforts her. Your eyes sting. They really don't care about you. 

"Come on, doll," Bucky lead you into the dark, not hesitating as the gloom surrounds you. "They ain't no good for you." 

You let him. You give in to your own bad decisions. How stupid! 

It’s jarring how only last week, you were so excited, thrilled about this man. You were intoxicated by him and now you are terrified. That liberation has turned into entrapment. 

He stops you as you trip over an unseen root. He pauses then a light blooms ahead of you. He uses his phone to light the way. His bike is just ahead, like a beast against the evening hue. 

He takes your bag and shoves it into the saddle bag. Your phone drops as he does and he quickly swipes it from the ground. He puts it in his pocket. He grabs a helmet and puts it on your head. You wince as he secures the strap. 

“Bucky,” you croak. “Bucky, please...” 

“It’s late.” 

“Yes, and dark. It’s not safe--” 

“Don’t tell me what’s safe,” he snaps. “Not after today.” 

He puts his own helmet on then grabs the jacket draped over the seat. He puts his leather coat on you. The summer night has a sliver of a chill on it. He zips it to your chin then taps the rear seat. The one he installed only days after you met. 

He straddles the bike and extends his arm out. He helps you on behind him and you squeeze his shoulders to steady yourself. He exhales and leans back into you. 

“You know, doll, I missed you. I didn’t come to punish you,” he sits up and straightens the bike. “I came to save you.”  

He twists the ignition and the bike roars to life. It rumbles beneath you and you wrap your arms around his middle. You rest your head against his back as he twists the throttle. As the bike tears forward and he steers along the narrow path, your tears spring forth. A tunnel of wind encases you, adding to that sense of suffocation. 

He told you who he is. He told you what he is. Why didn’t you listen to him? 

[halflifebutawesome]

i knew this was gonna happen.

[dillweedshole]

hey guys i have news for brigade and that news is "you're not playing it cuz it's probably never releasing"

Brigade started work as Powerless Duel (i fucking hate you, powerless duel) back in late March 2022. 2022. Two years ago.

Yeah, Charon did too, but at least I wasn't the actual only fucking dude working on the thing. Charon's release was so borked with us not knowing who was doing what but at least there were actual active devs, especially near the end (Boog is a champion).

Brigade, as it is and not as fucking POWERLESS DUEL, has only one finished song and I'm on the fence as to whether we should just upload it or not.

I really don't like throwing in the towel at all for stuff that's really close to me. Whether it's finished or not Brigade taught me so much about how to run a project, how to draw and animate (absolutely fuckign did not teach me how to interact with people i am still a fucking ROCK dude). I think I just don't wanna let go of it because I just love it too much to let it die.

I'm really torn right now.

[darcydarlingdabbles]

❣️🖋️ Darcy Darling’s Writing Update 🖋️

❣️

Feb 26, 2025

🩷Fanfics |✒️Original Fics |🩸Fave Comments

~Fanfics~

At Valentine's Day

This fanfic finishes today!

It's been my favorite in the series so far, ugh I love wedding chaos

...guess what, this series is now a series...with plans for 5 more parts!! Yikes, I'm insane.

Falling for the Morningstars ~

They. Finally. Fucking. Kissed.

Mr. Silver Tongue can turn anything into an innuendo, just wait.

No one has guessed my plot twist THIS TIME

Until the Devil's Last Dance ~

Had to take a little pause but will be back on Sunday

Reunited in hell and it feels so good~

If only Alastor could get over his damn self. And Lucifer still has no memories.

The Melody Between Us~

TOMORROW WE GET THE 8k SEX SCENE AHHHHH

Everytime I think the chapter is going to be a short one, nope, it's not. these fuckers like to talk.

Remember when this fic was about Vox being cucked...well, guess what?? It will be again~

~Original Fics~

Guessss what? You can read my original works for free for one year, with the code DARCYDARLING

Throuple vs Plant Zombie Apocalypse MMF

Book 1 was published on Jan 22, check it out here!

Book 4 has just started on my Ream

Our girl is having to bring her two boyfriends home to her dad and big brother...pray for her.

Smalltown Second Chance Sheriff MM

Book 1 Was published on Feb 19, check it out here.

Got one star lost on a review for southern accents...

You will not believe the fanfic this was based on my dudes.

Superheros & Soulmates MM

Book 1 will be published on March 19, check it out here.

This started out as a marvelous soulmate au, if you catch my drift

Why the fuck do I put myself through slow burns??

~Fave Comments~

"If he bites his ass... I'm going to die." "And I'm dead." Ream User on The Bites of Autumn Nights

"The description of every moment between them is so gorgeous and beautiful that it made me cry. I like that when Lucifer is weak, Alastor becomes a strong shield. And when Alastor feels insecurity about something, Lucifer provides comfort and encouragement, letting him know that it is safe to show his vulnerability" chunchun1991 on At Valentine's Day

"bitch crying T-T❤️‍🩹" Rina1889 on At Valentine's Day

"You know, after re-reading up to this point, it became abundantly clear why Alastor wanted to keep the afterglow to themselves in the previous fic (the one that inspired this one). It represents a lot more than just a nice moment after intimacy. It also explains why Alastor isn’t that bothered by being watched during sex, but not as much afterwards. That moment is just for them. For Lucifer who’s teaching Alastor that it’s ok to want and desire things for himself regardless of his sex. This is one of the reasons I love A/B/O fics so much; the primal urges and desires that give way for more touching moments and heartfelt emotions." TheCheshireCat01 on The Melody Between Us

"lol This is how you do possessive male in a healthy way!" Ream User on The Bites of Autumn Nights

Thanks for Reading, My Darlings~

[tteokdoroki]

what he lost | k.bakugou.

⇝ pairing: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader.

⇝ word count: 5.4K

⇝ rating: for everyone.

⇝ genre: pro hero!au, exes!au, angst.

⇝ summary: back then; he was young, dumb and a little too prideful, taking your love for granted. now, years down the line he wonders if he’ll ever stand a chance in getting you back or the one in which katsuki bakugou grew up a little too late.

⇝ warning(s): please read ! heavy angst, no happy ending, mentions of toxic relationships, emotional distress, mentions of violence ( explosions, fight scenes, knives, blood ) and cursing all around.

⇝ author’s note(s): greetings everyone!! i hope you’re all doing well, today’s one-shot is a request from @killakatsuki​​, i know you wanted a happy ending but i got a little ahead of myself eee !! anyways thank you all for 400+ followers, i love you all :(

⇝ masterlist | requests

“katsuki bakugou if you leave me right now, please... please don’t come back.”

bakugou had always hated that, he thought, casting his gaze elsewhere in the room. he always hated how you cried when you were angry, red hot tears stinging a pathway down the apples of your usually glowing cheeks.

he couldn’t quite place the reasoning as to why. maybe it was because you rarely ever found yourself angry or perhaps it was how pathetic you looked when your bottom lip wobbled and your harsh words were laced with watery sobs.

or maybe it was because he didn’t want to feel sorry for you, didn’t want to comfort you when he was too prideful to admit that you were right. “whatever, don’t tell me what the fuck to do.” he spits, eyes and voice full of a venom he barely ever uses against you. he watches with a scarlet gaze as you falter, as if a knife has dug deep into your heart and cut you all up but bakugou only scoffs and continues to pack his side kick costume into the duffle bag he’s got on your shared bed.

every fibre of his being is tell him to reach out for you and apologise, he knows that he’s wrong. keeping his late night shifts from you, working extra hours— of course you were going to worry but he needed you to understand that being a hero was his dream above all else. the last thing he needed was a distraction like you.

something in you changed that night, both of you. as the rain hit hard on the roof of your shared apartment, even as you took his things and threw them out into the hall and even as you gave him one last chance on the doorstep. “you can leave now and not comeback or you can stay and we’ll talk this through—“ your eyes spoke to him in a silent plead, asking him if he would really give up the life that you’d built for lies and a better job?

but you knew the answer already.

“like i said,” katsuki rolled his eyes as knowing sobs wracked your body. “i never needed you anyways.”

you slammed the door before he could walk away and forget the tears in your eyes.

six years later and katsuki is pissed.

he’d been irritable since this morning when his interns fucked up the paperwork at his agency— leaving him to clean it up and then when his assistant brought him the wrong coffee and forgot to notify him of the pro hero meeting he was currently attending right at this very minute.

of course heroes of all different calibers were present; including none other than the number two, shoto todoroki, who was in charge of directing this week’s patrol missions but something about that only grinds the explosive pro’s gears even more. although, he could see himself being even more pissed if the number one; deku had shown his face instead of being away on an overseas mission. the schedule for this week’s patrol sits heavily in bakugou’s hand and he almost wants to burn it to pieces just at the thought of working with his future partner.

‘yn ln.’

the sight of your name printed in block capitals next to his has the ash blonde reeling, glancing up to send a blazing scowl towards shoto. he feels set up, as if the half hot, half cold bastard is dangling you right in front of him— its not like todoroki doesn’t know the history that sits between bakugou and yourself, after all,  he had been the friend you’d ran off to during the fight that ended your five year relationship.

it’s like todoroki had a sixth sense because by the time he’d finish announcing the pair ups, he’d tiredly caught wind of katsuki’s heated stare. “bakugou—“

“i wanna fuckin’ switch, icyhot.”

“you can’t.”

bakugou stands from his seat next to kirishima ( who only looks apologetically at his colleagues ), annoyance rippling through his veins as he approaches the taller male. “why the fuck not?” he growls, small explosions sparking in the palms of his sweaty hands ( he was undeniably nervous because of the impending patrol ) the group of heroes simultaneously sigh— having been used to the explosive pro’s usual outbursts.

todoroki sighs, running his cooler hand over his face. “because the pairs have been matched up by quirk and strength, on top of that they were done in advance so if you really have a problem with it then i suggest you take it up with the number one—“ the dual quirked hero falls silent, a triumphant smirk appearing on his lips as red riot pulls his friend away before it’s too late.

“dude, you can’t just go blowing people up!” the red head scolds beneath bakugou’s sailor mouth, wrestling him over to the couch.

katsuki feels defeated, there’s no way to get out of this situation. he’s done his best these last few years to avoid you like the plague. it was somewhat easy, considering you were lower in the ranks compared to him, so there wasn’t much time to interact anyway. but katsuki hated the fact that he had always thought you would fall below him.

nonetheless; he took to switching event time tables around, rejecting hang outs with his old high school friends... all to avoid you, and now that he had to see you face to face, he wasn’t sure how to react. would you still hate him? how did you feel about working with him?

there’s not much time to dwell on the thought for kirishima is already patting his back and guiding him out of the meeting as it ends, the promise of drinks at an ‘heroes only bar’ hanging in the air.

“you’re so handsome, ground zero ! thank you for protecting japan !”

bakugou can feel the bile rising in the back of his throat at the words from the sickly sweet fan, so he gives a nonchalant grunt in response as he finishes up his signature on her notebook before continuing his march to your hero agency. it’s been a few days since the meeting between the pro heroes and all the number three wants is to make it to your agency without being fawned over by more obsessive fans.

he gives the fan a casual wave, ignoring the look of disappointment on her face— either she was expecting his number or for him to grow bashful under her flurry of compliments but katsuki was never one for fan service.

he hated fans that expected something from him, ones who wanted more than a casual chat with their favourite pro hero but he wouldn’t let them in. they didn’t want the intimate, vulnerable sides of katsuki bakugou like you had— maybe that made the ash blonde stuck on you.

yn ln was the only girl in his life who had tried to understand the many layers of the hot headed hero, you saw past his aggressive nature and touched the deepest parts of his soul…parts that you longed to love and keep safe.

you’d loved him for who he was below the surface, not for the money and fame he had come to amass as number three in the ranks.

behind scarlet eyes are the best moments of the hero’s life, each shared with you. katsuki had took for granted the seconds you had been with him, even from the very start— he didn’t care for the way that you held him after he’d been kidnapped, clinging onto him like he’d disappear or would never return to your arms, he should have cherished the tears of worry you shed for him too but katsuki was too prideful at the time.

too full of himself even with his raging nightmares that you had managed to soothe.  

you’d comforted him after he’d failed the licensing exams, promised him he’d still get to be the greatest hero of all time and still, bakugou had cared for none of this. now that he’d thought about it, he hadn’t been good to you, he didn’t know how you’d dealt with they way he undermined your quirk and doubted your ability to protect him when he should have been the one to protect you.

your love was wasted on him, and for that bakugou needed to apologise.

hands in his pockets, katsuki’s mind could have been said to be away with the fairies, haunted by the night he came home with a half hearted apology on his lips to an empty apartment and a note from you. something about staying with the icyhot bastard and not to contact you.

that is until he collided with the back of someone in the crowd. “hey!” he’s quick to growl out to the figure, a slight snarl to the words leaving his mouth. “watch where you’re going, shitty extra—“

“ah, katsuki! nice to see you haven’t changed,” your voice sends shivers down the blonde’s spine, bright red eyes focusing on you and only you. your smile is bright, dazzling under the hot japan sun and even if katsuki hadn’t changed, you certainly had— your pretty eyes he used to get lost in, he used to watch glimmer with tears now hold a different kind of light, they greyish hue that dulled you over your time with him had finally cleared.

you looked healthy, happier and bakugou realises how much your relationship must’ve wore you down.

he feels like he doesn’t deserve the grin that you give him; the one you would save just for him in the early mornings you’d spent together back when you were dating. maybe that makes his heart jumps out of his chest.

“y-yn— “

he hadn’t prepared himself for your sweet, airy giggle that fills the space between you. “ground zero getting shy on me now? don’t tell me you forgot about our shift today, did’ya?”

“n-no, ‘course not, dumbass.” fuck, katsuki’s heart thumps against his ribcage so loud that he’s afraid you might hear it with the little distance between you. since when did you make him nervous? despite the pet name, you still give him a laugh as a flicker of fondness twinges in your bright eyes.

it’s quickly replaced when you blink it away, beckoning ground zero into your hero offices. “nice to see that sailor’s mouth hasn’t changed either ,” you mumble more so to yourself than him. bakugou walks a few paces behind you while you explain to him that you have to finish assigning your sidekicks and interns a few low level missions before you can head off for the day.

the group of young heroes are excitable, seemingly loving the opportunity to work with you— their chatter is loud but it gives katsuki time to drink you in.

crimson eyes travel over your form while you talk— your hero costume has changed a lot since your U.A and sidekick days.

you’d interned under the number two at the time, hawks, thus leading you to have become one of his most trusted sidekicks. no doubt; his skill level had not only  improved your abilities, how you controlled your quirk but your costume as well.

your quirk was known as lullaby, if you could sing a tune in the right pitch to certain groups of people, it allowed you control over the abilities and to put them to sleep. this obviously however meant you were poor at short distance attacks— something bakugou always teased you for, so he was excited to see how you’d improved.

your suit had a visor that allowed you to amplify your quirk, while patterns of the night sky dressed your body— paying homage to your hero name ‘nightsky’.

katsuki felt bad to imprinting the image of your skin tight, midnight blue suit into his mind but back when he had known you like you were his, your costume hadn’t been nearly as advanced as this.

snapping fingers pull him from his thoughts before they can get too hazy.

“eyes are up here, explosion boy.”

katsuki’s gaze snaps up to meet yours, an angry red to rival his gemstone eyes spreading like wildfire across his cheeks. “i wasn’t staring.” he tries his best to defend himself, but your knowing look tells him that you’ve caught him red handed.

“of course you weren’t, sidekicks left about ten minutes ago so we can head out  now—unless you want to keep glaring daggers at my boobs, katsu.” you’re teasing him, voice dripping like honey off of a spoon as you waltz back out onto the streets of japan and leave a bewildered ground zero behind you.

you’ve changed so much since your relationship ended with bakugou, you’re stronger, a vixen and more confident in yourself.

and he hates knowing that he’s the one that kept you down all this time.

patrol remains uneventful even as the afternoon goes on and the stress of japan begin to fill with citizens for the oncoming rush hour.

the lack of action has lead your conversation to die within the wind and leaves katsuki alone with his thoughts for the time being— you only really speak when you catch the blonde staring you down or when he accidentally walks into something ( highly unusual for him ) but he enjoys the seconds where your teasing voice tickles the tips of his ears and you smile so wide his own lips pull into somewhat of a grin.

bakugou doesn’t know why he’s so quiet, not when the storm in his mind brews all the words he should have said to you years ago. the apologies, the grateful thanks that you deserved; none of these could fall from his tongue.

he liked to say he never had the opportunity, which was partly true you were both up and coming herores yes, but you had damn well made sure you’d never have to encounter bakugou unless the situation required it. and it seemed, that years down the line, he was still doing the same.

the thought alone cause nerves to choke him from the inside out, building up in his throat until all he can do is grunt in frustration—  kicking an empty can along the road you’re currently walking down.

“that’s unlike you,” your chuckle cuts through the thick fog of katsuki’s mind, drawing deep red eyes towards your frame. you walk in front of him now, arms folded behind your head while you step backwards— the sight almost comical to anyone passing by. bakugou must look just as shocked because some how he manages to pull the cutest snort from you, even as his face morphs into a snarl and he marches forward to fall into pace with your steps. your eyes dazzle with your next words. “the great katsuki bakugou, quiet? never thought i’d see the day.”

you’ve always been able to read him like an open book, seeing right through the front he puts on. “i haven’t changed.” he grunts through his teeth.

katsuki stops walking when you do, now standing a breaths width away from you. electricity jumps between you both, static forming in the finger tips that just barely brush against bakugou’s arm.

your eyes spell it out for him, clear as day, as you finally reach out to touch him. His own close at the brief gesture, the pain from having lost you blooming across his chest.

“you did.” you breathe out,  the warmth of your soft voice making katsuki’s eyes screw shut.

he could never get a lie past you.

“we both did.”

vermillion eyes open, trying to seek you out in the light of the day as bakugou wills and prays that he can say what he needs to right now, to get you back but he doesn’t have the chance as an explosion cuts through the building on your left.

bakugou manages to wrap his arms around you, shielding you from the blast before you hit the ground. the impulse sends you  both rolling down the street, small grunts escaping you until you roll to a halt and end up on top of katsuki— straddling him.

dust and debris surrounds the pair of you, creating a thick smog in the air as sirens and screams sound off in the distance. the explosive hero groans in pain— no doubt with a litter of bruises forming under his suit but he has no time to register the sting properly before he’s noticing you on top of him, smirk on your face, devilish glint to your eye.

you’ve been waiting for some action all day.

you’re gone in the blink of an eye, so you must have a plan. katsuki remembers from high school that you made up for strategy where you once lacked in strength, so it’s no surprise to him that you’re already on the move. meanwhile; you manage to slide undetected through the smoke, moving fast to take out the low level criminals.

it’s only a robbery, but the explosion could have caused more casualties than you would have liked. you trust that bakugou can take care of the civilians and bring them out of harms way as you do your best o sus out the ringleader.

the grey tinted fog that sweeps over the area allows you both to work quickly; neither of you need to say anything, for one it would give away your position and secondly— there’s an underlying trust in one another that the two of you had built up when you worked together while dating.

bakugou, through his end, tackles down the small group of criminals after clearing the area and making sure no one was hurt. emergency services had been alerted and were already on their way, all there was now, was to predict your next movements and follow your lead. he’d never liked being bossed about, but the look in your eye made him believe you knew what you were doing.

you were right, you’d both changed. you might as well have been a better hero than him.

the ash blonde follows the trail of unconscious wannabe villains to your whereabouts, he only knows that they’re unconscious because of your ability to put people to sleep with your quirk— all you had to do was get close to them, which wouldn’t have been hard as katsuki knew first hand that these guys’ quirks weren’t shit.

“it’s almost funny, how you thought you could pull a stunt like this on a day when all of japan’s biggest heroes are in one place,” bakugou’s ears pick up on you teasing the criminal leader with that smooth chocolate voice and he follows it deeper into the air that’s heavy with debris— glad you were able to find him before the smoke cleared. “even with the number one out of town, tsk, you should have known better…”

the hot headed pro spots you, holding the hooded ringleader in a choke hold with only your thighs as you sit on his shoulders— eyes wide with victory.

he recognises the dip in your voice as you adjust your tone to put the guy to sleep and call it a day. you’re powerful, a great pro and bakugou watches with awe while you get ready to take this guy down once and for all.

“so cocky, nightsky— why do you think we chose attack the street you were on?” the guy spits through clenched teeth, resisting the urge to succumb to your lullaby of a voice.

brows furrowing, you decide not to dwell on the criminal’s words before leaning down to whisper. “sleep...” but katsuki’s body comes alive with fear as the villain wannabe jams a blade into your thigh, causing your grip on him to loosen enough for him to throw you to the floor and put a boot to your throat. “oh miss nightsky, you really rely too much on your quirk and not enough on your senses. hmm, i think it’s time we say goodnight, don’t you?” the guy chuckles while you squirm under his foot— the need for air burning sharply at your lungs.

bakugou, who’s remained hidden this entire time feels himself snap— a heavy explosion loading up behind his gauntlets while he launches himself right into the scene. he won’t let you struggle for your life, not on his watch. “GET YOUR FILTHY FUCKIN’ HANDS OFF OF HER!”

he reaches the criminal just before your eyes roll back into your head, an explosive right hook colliding with their cheek and sending them flying down the street.

the ash blonde reaches down to pull you up into his chest, that very same one heaving with laboured breaths; you’re shaking but it’s nothing you can’t handle even with the red lines at your throat.

“you good?”

“better, thanks to you.”

there’s a look that you wear right now, one that katsuki recognises from years of training and running into fights with you— you want to do the move. he nods at you, vermillion eyes lighting up with a bright fire while you grip onto ground zero’s wrists.

just as the villain stands, you kick your feet off the ground and in the meantime bakugou begins to twirl you in circular motions until you’ve built up enough momentum for him to throw you towards the criminal.

you collide with his back foot first, knocking him to the ground as your eyes glow a bright white. “i said, go the fuck to sleep.”

the criminal drops to sleep and you roll to the ground after taking him out. you smile to yourself at the familiar wail of sirens in the background but don’t bother to make an effort to stand up, letting the exhaustion, pain from the wound in your thigh and bruises at your neck finally flood your body.

sitting beside you, bakugou smirks and holds a fist out to you. “still got it,” he gestures between the pair of you, the same signature move you’ve been doing since high school having worked successfully once again.

“still got it.” you look up to the now clear sky, fist bumping bakugou right back.

he’s going to do it, he thinks, he’s going to apologise.

after everything you and bakugou had been through, something in his chest was relieved to know that you didn’t hate him, something in him is lead to believe that you’re going to give him another chance.

katsuki watches you now, an attendant from the paramedics that you called working on patching up the gash in your thigh while you rub a salve into your neck.

despite the pain you must be in; you’re still glowing, still smiling even when fans ask you for autographs or tell you how brave you were during the fight. you’re so genuine, such a ray of sunshine in the world and bakugou can feel himself falling for you all over again.

“Is that all mr. ground zero, sir?” an officer asks, taking down notes for the report about the incident. the hero nods, waving the kid off after giving them all of the details from today. they thank him and he finds himself marching over to you almost immediately, now that you’re all bandaged up.

“walking already, ln? are you sure it doesn’t hurt?”

you beam up at the ash blonde, hopping out of the back of the ambulance and rubbing at the tear in your hero costume where the cut is. “it’s good, stings a little but i’ve seen worse on you,” you comment to him, beginning your stride back to your agency.

“and who’s fault is that, dumbass?” a genuine laughter bubbles in bakugou’s throat, albeit raspy, its not a foreign sound to your ears and it makes you laugh along with him.

he knows you’re referencing the many times you’d kicked hiss ass when sparring from high school to your side kick days. back then you‘d have traced every scar that littered his pretty body and told him how much you loved him.

katsuki aids you while you head back to the nightsky agency, you insist that you don’t need help to walk but you’re limping and the explosive pro hero is stubborn as hell— he’s not about to let you get hurt again, even if its physically and not mentally like he had done to you before.

with the lighter mood, memories flitter between you both— you mention how katsuki used to love his food so spicy you would cry and he brings up the time you had given him and kirishima a bout of food poisoning when you’d come up with an alternative to the latter’s cooking. the stories don’t seem to end even as you lean into him more; trusting him again.

“about what i said earlier…” you begin after finally coming to a halt outside your agency building, a scarlet gaze full of fondness lands on you. you turn to face him with the softest of smiles, half chewing on your bottom lip— something he knew you did when you were nervous. “you’re different, to how…how you were back then and it’s good, katsuki you’re so good…”

there’s a breath of silence, only filled by the quiet hum of city traffic where people are travelling to and from home. “i’m glad i had time to become good,” bakugou offers, forgoing the words ‘for you’ and pausing instead. “i regret who i was back then, with you… thought it made you hate me and that you wouldn’t fuckin’ work with me today.”

you shake your head, breaking contact with bakugou to paw at the stupid tears preparing to make their way down your cheeks. “i-i did hate you for a while, after everything…but we were young and dumb and—“ you freeze as the ash blonde wipes a stray tear from your cheek, you not having realised that it’d escaped. “and i’m so thankful to have met you, to have shared a love with you, you taught me so much and that i could never hate you for.”

“yn...i—“ i love you. i’m sorry. i should have loved you better. the words are there, the ones that katsuki always told himself he would say to you if he had the chance but he finds himself frozen and unable to speak. why? why now? when the perfect chance sat right in front of him, the perfect time for him to make it up to you.

to start over.

“yes, katsuki?”

to get you back.

“yn i’m sorry—“

“—guess who?”

a sing song voice full of positivity bursts through the moment while a pair of hands clasp their way over your pretty eyes and hide them away from the world.

bakugou instantly recognises the voice as belonging to none other than his childhood rival and number one pro hero, deku. he seems to have changed— grown taller, green hair shaved at the sides for an undercut.

the ash blonde isn’t very sure what else has changed, but then again they hadn’t seen much of each other as sidekicks, working under different agencies with different missions.

it was only as they started competing for the top ranks that they started to run the same circles— but bakugou had no idea how you would’ve come to know deku since the blonde hated him and you were dating each other for most of that time.

katsuki is just about to tell the green haired idiot to ‘fuck the fuck off’ for ruining his moment when you do the unexpected.

you clasp your hands over midoriya’s, cheeky smile gracing your lips as you attempt to pull them away from your face. “let me think, could it be? izuku midoriya?” relenting to your cheery voice— deku pulls away from you, hands falling to grip your waist sweetly. possesively. horror flashes behind bakugou’s raging red eyes. you turn in his rival’s strong arms, smiling so hard that it delves deep into the apples of your cheeks. “izu ! when did you get back? i thought you wouldn’t make it in time for today…”

“flew in this morning doll, i wanted to surprise you—“ the number one beams down at you and bakugou’s world crumbles when you cut him off while pressing a chaste kiss to deku’s lips right in front of his eyes.

this couldn’t be happening...since when were you and the damn nerd a thing? why didn’t he realise? why didn’t he grow up and try and get you back sooner?

he has no choice but to sit and stare, a dark cloud now sitting over his shattered heart.

all the while, you’re giggling into deku’s lips, fumbling over his hands that pinch at your sides just to get you to gasp enough for him to kiss you more.  the painful ( well, only for the explosive pro ) lip lock ends when you both come up for air and your eyes land on your ex boyfriend.

“ah, katsuki ! you remember deku right? wait that’s a dumb question you were literally childhood friends—“ you start to ramble, mind getting away from you and katsuki barely registers anything that leaves your lips. his crimson eyes lock with the emerald ones that stare right back at him and hurt swells in his chest.

to deku, he must look like a kicked puppy. a weakling. a loser.

all the things he had labelled izuku midoriya when they were kids.

when bakugou tunes back into your excited rambling, his heart cracks even more in his chest. “this green giant flew all the way in from overseas to come home for wedding planning ! can you believe it?”  the answer to your question is an obvious no.

he had no idea that you had been seeing the number one, let alone being engaged to him. the hot headed hero freezes in his spot when you reach down the chest of your hero costume to pull out a silver necklace.

on the end of it, an engagement ring with a tiny emerald in it’s centre.

katsuki bakugou feels sick, bile rising up in his throat. he’d really lost you. really. “...pretty thing that is, congratulations.” he mentions blankly, eyes trained on midoriya once again. you don’t notice, but deku does and bakugou hates the sympathetic, apologetic look that the fucking nerd gives him.

“mhm ! izu put it on a necklace for me because, well you know, i’m clumsy and didn’t want to lose the thing,”

you’re so clueless that it hurts, burning katsuki from the inside out. that should be him. it should be his arms around you, his lips on yours, his engagement ring on that fucking necklace. not deku’s, not anyone’s. the green headed hero beside you seems to notice the distress ebbing away at your ex and tilts your head up to look at him. “doll, why don’t you head inside and change into something more comfy real quick? we’ve got cake tasting in an hour…”

the tail end of deku’s words are drowned out by your happily animated squeal and with a quick nod you press a kiss to his freckled cheek and bounce inside— missing the way bakugou winces at your display of affection.

it’s quiet despite the bustling sounds of the city but neither if them know what to say, even as the minutes pass.

bakugou knows that you’d be better off with deku, he would treat you right and give you the love that you deserved all along. but that didn’t make it any less painful.

“kacchan, look...“ the number one says eventually, green eyes swirling with guilt. “i’m sorry—“

the blonde shakes his head, spitting his words out through gritted teeth. “don’t...just,” fuck, it hurts to breathe. “just…take care of her for me, you got that deku?”

“yeah, of course…”

the pair of childhood rivals don’t have much time to speak after that, for you’re already bounding out of your agency wearing a comfortable mint green summer dress and pair of red sneakers to rival deku’s, despite the thick bandage to your thigh.

“ready to go?” you ask your fiancé, face as warm and as bright as it had once been when you used to look at bakugou. izuku nods, delight dancing in his eyes despite the nervous chew to his bottom lip, before letting you turn to your ex lover. “great ! well, see you around kasuki, don’t be a stranger ! we’ve got to catch up again sometime, alright?”

you link arms with izuku midoriya, your fiancé, after that—walking away and  leaving ground zero in the dust.

he doesn’t know how long he stands there for, heart in his hands even while he comes to the realisation that you hadn’t gone to todoroki that night when you’d left. no, you’d only told him that so it hurt a little less when he found out midoriya had been the one to look after you. you’d lied because you’d loved him.

you lie because you love him.

and it was only now that katsuki bakugou had realised what he’d lost.

[moldisgoodforyou]

you’re excused

wordcount: 2.6k

warning: hinting at smut

_______

After another late night out, the group of four stumbled into the pizza shop they frequented regularly - Sophie leaned on Rafe, Colin was walking like he hadn’t had a drink all night, and James was leaning on the other side of Rafe, like liquid when he was drunk. Rafe fished his AmEx out of his pocket like usual and slid it across the counter, authoritative. “Hey man, how’s your night? We’ll take a large pepperoni.”

The cashier shrugged, pointing to the sign on the register. “Cash only, dude. Sorry man.”

“Damn, cash-only? Since when?” Colin lamented, turning to leave the pizza shop.

“Oh!” Sophie’s face lit up. “I know what to do.” She went to pull up the hem of her tank top and Rafe grabbed her insanely quick, arms wrapped tight around her chest. “Absolutely fucking not, Sophie.”

“I’m just using my assets!” She protested, squirming in his grip. He kept a tight hold on her, practically frog marching her out of the shop.

James laughed, shaking his head. “Bold move, Soph. I appreciate the effort.”

“Not in a million fucking years.” Rafe grumbled, holding her tight.

“This is blatant misogyny.” She argued, trying to wrestle her way out of his arms.

He didn’t let her move an inch. “By not letting you show your tits?”

“Yes. They’re great tits, the world deserves to see them.”

“Good god.” He sighed, only letting her go when she stopped moving. “No. Only I deserve to see them.”

“No, dude, I think she has a point. That sounds pretty misogynistic to me.” James pointed out, only for Rafe to sock him in the arm.

“Don’t ever talk about her tits again -"

“I wasn’t technically talking about her tits, I was talking about the concept -"

As the two started to wrestle, Sophie slipped back inside the pizza shop. She found three dollars in her pocket and gave it to the cashier, then returned with two large slices of pizza, handing one to Colin. The boys stopped wrestling abruptly when they saw the exchange. “Hey, wait, I want one.” Rafe protested.

“No. You didn’t let me show off my boobs.” She replied primly, taking a large bite of the pizza.

“You didn’t - Sophie. No. You didn’t.” He glanced back and forth between her and the pizza shop, confused.

Sophie grinned, strolling forward to link arms with Colin and kept walking, with no response.

Colin smirked and leaned down, whispering. “Are you gonna tell him you found cash or should I?”

“Nah. He’ll get over it.” She shrugged and tapped her crust against his. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

Rafe jogged to catch up, walking next to the two of them. “Wait, I want some. I’m hungry too.”

She made a show of taking a big bite. “Mmm. I’m sure you are. It’s really good, Rafe.”

He frowned. “Can I have the crust at least? You never eat the crust.”

“I dunno, this crust is really good this time.” She replied. “Are we still going to my place?”

“We’re going to your place?” James chimed in, unsure. He nearly tripped over his feet as he tried to shove himself in on the sidewalk so they walked four across. “I wanna go home instead.”

“No, you two aren’t coming.” Rafe shook his head, then looked to Sophie for confirmation. “Right?”

She finished the majority of the pizza and handed the rest to Rafe, holding back a smile at the grin that lit up his face. “Yeah, it’s just us. Unless you guys want to…?”

“No, we’ll go home.” Colin nodded up at the upcoming intersection. “This is us anyways, we’ll see you ‘round. James, this way, buddy.”

“Bye!” James waved, peeling off with Colin. Once they were out of sight and Rafe finished the pizza, he glanced over at her, unsure.

“You didn’t really flash that guy, did you?”

“Might have.” She shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“Yes, it matters.”

“Okay. No, I didn’t, I found cash in my pocket. I would have though.”

“I know you would have.” He grumbled. “How drunk are you?”

She squinted, holding up her thumb and her pointer finger close together. “Only a lil’ bit. We can still hook up, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

He groaned, rolling his eyes. “You have to stop calling it hooking up. We’ve been dating for nearly a year.”

“Eleven months is not nearly a year.” She retorted, checking her hip against his. “What do you wanna do?”

“We’re still sticking to that November date instead of Halloween? Huh?”

“Yeah. We are. What position?” He could tell she was drunk because she spoke a little too loudly, her tongue slipping over some of her words. “We could do reverse cowgirl, 69 - we haven’t tried that, um -”

“Sophie -”

“Missionary, I guess, but that’s kind of boring -”

“Jesus, Soph, please shut up -”

She raised her eyebrows, stepping in front of him to cut him off. “Excuse me?”

He sighed and reached into his pockets, adjusting his shorts, and was thankful it was dark enough to hide his situation. “You’re excused. Can we go home?”

Her eyes flicked down to below his belt and back up to his eyes, with a smug grin. “What are you gonna do to me?”

“Sophie.”

“I bet you wouldn’t even last if I go down on you. You’re so predictable.” Sophie smirked, knowing she was pushing Rafe to his limit.

He reacted instantly, reaching out and catching her forearm and pinned her against a parked car in the alley, caging her in around her head with his forearms.

She inhaled sharply, caught off guard with wide eyes.

He grinned, leaned in close and whispered in her ear. “What was that?”

“Um. I, uh, I don’t know.” She stuttered, feeling her knees go a little weak as his lips brushed against the shell of her ear.

“Something about me being predictable?” He supplied, giving her a kiss on the cheek then pulled away like nothing had happened. “Hm?”

She took a moment to compose herself, swallowing hard. “You’ve done that before.”

“No I haven’t.” He argued, taking her hand.

“You have.” She nodded, slipping her hand into his. “Halloween, when I finally told you how I felt.”

“You remember that?”

“I remember every damn detail of that night.” She replied with a grin, her eyes bright. “You combed back your hair but had one little strand out of place, it kept falling into your eyes on top of your glasses. When you kissed me I was almost convinced to hook up with you right then and there but I was afraid I’d ruin it and you wouldn’t want to see me again.”

“Sophie.” His tone took on a serious edge and he slowed their pace a little so he could look her in the eye. “No matter what had happened that night, I knew I had to find a way to keep talking to you after that class. Hell, I’d have settled on going back to arguing every day if I meant I’d still get to see you.”

She blushed, grateful they made it to her house and even more grateful her roommates were back at the bar. “You’d still fight with me?”

He nodded, punching in his code to let them in. “I would.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know, about the stupid shit we always fought about.”

“Give me an example.” She stepped close, trapping him in between the kitchen counter and her body.

He held back an amused smile at the way she tried to take charge. “Like how you think you can get away with grinding on me at the bar with no consequences. Or how you leaned across the bar, with this top so loose and low cut that I can practically see your nipples right now, so the bartender would give you free drinks. Twice.”

She noticed his eyes darkened a little and she stood taller as a sly smirk spread across her face. “I wasn’t flirting.”

“Better not be.” He flipped positions with her quicker than she could process what was going on, lifting her up onto the counter and slotting himself in between her legs. “I don’t want anyone else even thinking they have a shot with you.”

She wrapped her legs around his waist instinctually. “I can’t help it if other people flirt.”

“You can not encourage them.” He kissed her hard, his hands immediately going to her waist. “Twirling your hair, doing that thing where you try to look all innocent with me - yes, exactly, that -”

She grinned, biting her lip as she blinked up at him. “I’m not doing anything, Cameron.”

“You absolutely are, Flint.” He growled, slipping his hands under her ass and lifting her off the counter. “You and your fucking bedroom eyes.”

“You do it more, you know.” She informed him with a smirk. “You smolder.”

“I smolder?”

“Yes. Your eyes just kind of...linger on me, then you meet my eyes, and then you lick your lips. Sometimes you’ll rub the back of your neck too, and I’m pretty sure that’s just so you can show off and flex your arms.”

“None of that is intentional.”

“Well it works.” She laughed, yelping as he started walking up the stairs. “I can handle myself -”

“You shouldn’t have to.” He cut her off with a kiss, biting her bottom lip. “Fucking tease.”

“I’m not teasing.” She insisted, breathless as he gripped her ass a little tighter, pressing her against the wall at the top of the stairs. “Fuck, Rafe.”

“Yeah?” He kissed her again, running the tip of his tongue along her lips. “Tell me what you want.”

“You taste like pizza crust.” She mumbled, laughing when he pulled back with a quizzical expression. “Sorry. Sorry. Got distracted.”

Rafe rolled his eyes, carefully setting her down. “Fine, I’ll go brush my teeth -”

“No!” She grabbed his wrist as he moved to walk down the hallway. “C’mere. Need you.”

A slow smirk spread across his cheeks as he stepped back in her space, reaching out to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. “Yeah? You need me, baby?”

She bit her lip, staring up at him with wide eyes as she nodded.

He slowly stepped forward, gently pushing her up against the wall as he slid one of his thighs in between hers, his chest touching hers with every rise and fall of their breath. “Tell me.”

“Tell you…?” She echoed, hands going to his waist.

“Tell me. Tell me what you want.”

Sophie blushed, breaking eye contact. “Rafe, I’m not gonna -”

“Fine, then I won’t touch you.” He replied, raising his hands as he backed away with a smug smile, but he barely got back before she wrapped her hand around the back of his neck, yanking him down to her level so she could kiss him, hard.

“Stop, fuck, you’re teasing.”

“I’m -” He pulled back just enough to lift her up, tapping the back of her thighs to signal for her to wrap her legs around his waist. “Fuck. M’not. Just wanna hear you.”

“Oh, you’ll hear me.” She promised, sucking a spot against his neck. “You’ll hear me, baby. All night.”

He paused, breath catching. “I kinda have a work meeting at 8am tomorrow -”

Sophie laughed, pecking his lips. “You know damn well when I say all night I don’t mean it.”

“Okay. Yeah. Yeah, yeah, got it. Okay, fuck, keep saying sexy shit to me.” He exhaled, nodding quickly as he strode into her room and kicked the door shut behind him. The door slammed especially hard and she winced when he dropped her to the bed.

“C’mon, Cameron, door’s gonna jam now.”

“Don’t care. I’ll figure it out. Take your shirt off.”

“Demanding.”

“You like it when I’m in control.” He pointed out, grinning when she let him tug off her crop top and unbutton her jeans. “Okay, c’mon, hips up.”

She obliged, lifting her hips and helped wiggle the denim down her legs. He pressed kisses down her thighs as he tugged them off, grinning.

“Fuck, you’re hot.”

“I know.”

He just laughed, pulling back to tug his shirt over his head. “I love your confidence.”

“I love you.” She replied, moving a little up the bed.

Rafe beamed ear to ear, fumbling with the button on his corduroy pants. “I’m never gonna get tired of that. Ever. Fuck. Will you?”

“Will I get tired of it?”

“No, my -” He gestured helplessly at his stuck button, yanking on his pants. “It’s these new pants you convinced me to buy, I look like I’m straight out of a fucking Ralph Lauren ad.”

“Oh, so nothing new.”

“Sophie -” he sighed, exasperated, but cut himself off quickly when her fingers teased under the waistband of his boxers. “No, keep going.”

“Magic word?” She tugged him forward, pushing his pants down to pool around his ankles until he kicked them aside.

“Suck me off?”

“Rafe.”

“Oh, sorry. Please suck me off?”

“Rafe Cameron.” She rolled her eyes, flicking his abs, and got up on her knees on the bed then pulled him down to kiss him, hard.

“Sophie Flint.” He grinned, running his fingers through her hair. “God, you’re so fucking pretty.”

“Keep that up, really does wonders for my ego.” She breathed out, moaning when he tugged on her hair a little. “Fuck. I need you.”

“But I wanted to -”

“Rafe.” She pleaded, looking up at him with doe eyes, and that was all he needed to reach into his nightstand and grab a condom.

“Okay, okay, hold on -”

“We don’t have to -”

“Yes, we have to, you nearly broke up with me last time we didn’t -”

“I did not -” Sophie huffed, exasperated. “Are you going to fuck me or not?”

“Fuck you? Baby, I’m gonna -” He grinned, making Sophie roll her eyes before he even opened his mouth again, and sang, horribly off key. “I’ll make love to you…like you want me to…”

“You’re so weird when you’re drunk.” She giggled, grabbing his hand to tug him onto the bed, shaking her head as he stood there, completely naked, singing way louder than he should have been for nearly 3am on a Sunday.

“You love it. Love me.” He insisted, letting his full weight fall on top of her as he pinned her to the bed.

Sophie grinned, grabbing his chin so she could kiss him properly. “I do.”

“Yes, I’ll marry you.” He replied with a grin, kissing her hard and slow, swiping his tongue against her lips.

“Stooooppp.” She whined, blushing. “Get in me already.”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me.” He smirked, gripping her hips. “Tell me more.”

“I don’t know why you’re dragging this out when you could literally be fucking me right -"

“Making love -"

“Okay, Romeo, whatever you say -"

He laughed, clearly not concerned about time, and leaned down to press a kiss to her lips. “Love you.”

“Love you too. Please fuck me.”

“Yes ma’am.”

taglist: @drewstarkey @lemur46 @jjmaybanksbaby @edgeofgr8 @quxxnxfhxll @obxtess @hoodpankow @vtgirl802 @outerbankies @messagesinthesky @nicolecarsley @svechnikolan @ilovejjmaybank @obxtess @abbyj1822 @oopsiedoopsie23 @g4bster @jjmaybankzz @freddymaybank @dontjinx-it @illbesafeforyou @moniamaybank @tovvaa @jailcalledlife @sunshineitsfine44 @randomficsandshit @outerbankspreferences @outerbanksbro @karsinner @kkmaybank @whoeveniskendall @lemur46 @outerbankies @proactivetypeofperson @gloriousmoneyrascalbiscuit

[the-wild-wolves-around-you]

hear those bells ring: chapter 3 (a deaf!bakugo x reader fic)

Summary: Bakugo wakes up with his hearing and a bunch of questions.

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader; Katsuki Bakugo x You

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: Blood, descriptions of gore, and adult language.

A/N: Sorry for the wait on ch 3, I had to work over the weekend. Anyway, hope you enjoy! 

~*~*~ No spoilers or anything. This is just a self-indulgent AU fic with aged up characters. Everyone’s in their mid-20s. Fic title is from a song called “Achilles Come Down.”

Ao3 Link: Here

Ch 1 Tumblr Link: Here

Ch 2 Tumblr Link: Here

Bakugo woke up confused, disoriented, and pissed off. 

He bolted upright, the taste of smoke and ash still on his tongue, but when he whipped his head from side to side, there was no fire, no burning asphalt, no villain, only the empty, dark expanse of his apartment. 

But something was still tugging at him, fucking incessantly, and it took him a moment to realize it was his phone alarm. 

Red eyes flicked to the device on his bedside table, and even though its continuous siren was like nails on a chalkboard, Bakugo found himself unable to move, unable to stop it. 

Because he could hear the alarm. Clearly. Loudly. 

He hadn’t been able to hear his phone alarm in weeks, not really. It was nothing more than a muffled tone that petered out toward the end as it rose in pitch and frequency. Thankfully, Bakugo’s internal alarm got him up most days around the sun, but he’d been late to morning patrols a handful of times. 

But now… 

Numbly, Bakugo finally reached out and tapped his phone. His ears rang slightly in the ensuing silence, but it was barely perceptible, nothing like the perpetual buzzing he’d been living with, like a hive of bees had taken up residence in his head. 

The quiet, after so long, was almost… unsettling. 

And it was all because of that woman. He was sure of it. 

Bakugo pressed his lips into a thin line as he thought about you, the memories of last night flooding back. The blurry image of your face, crouched over him, splattered in a thin mist of red blood and dusted with white plaster. He couldn’t remember much from right after he blasted that villain into the fucking dirt. He remembered the feel of glass breaking around him, and pain, a lot of fucking pain, but then it was black until you appeared. When he’d opened his eyes and met yours, he recalled thinking he should be in more pain, but then you spoke to him and derailed all coherent thought. 

Because he’d heard you. Clear as fucking day. 

That immediately drew his attention, and so did the blood all over your hands. 

There was a lot of it. Way too fucking much for nicking yourself on some glass or whatever bullshit excuse you gave. And Bakugo knew it was bullshit. You weren’t a convincing liar. Well, maybe to some idiot extras you would be, but not to him. He clocked the way you stuttered, the way you fidgeted and averted your eyes. And when you looked at him… fuck, your face was so goddamn guilty. 

Why, he had no idea. 

But he did know one thing. 

You had a healing quirk. There was no other explanation. 

Even if he hadn’t just miraculously recovered the hearing that a doctor told him he would never get back, there were a lot of other little discrepancies. His left arm, for one. Bakugo remembered how it felt when the villain’s asphalt wrapped around his limb, the burning, scalding agony of it. But now, the skin was just pink and barely blistered in some places. 

Then there was the blood. 

When he’d gotten home after ditching the crime scene, Bakugo had immediately beelined for his bathroom to take a shower. But, when he stripped off his hoodie, he realized it was heavier than it should be right before he noticed it was dripping onto his floor. Dripping blood. Without thinking, he’d wrung the hoodie out on the bathroom floor, and a fuck ton of red liquid seeped out of it. 

He had immediately dropped the jacket and started scanning his body in the bathroom mirror, but besides the shallow gash on his abdomen, the burned arm, and a few other minor scrapes and bruises, he was uninjured. 

But… his back was coated in red, and so were the seat of his dark jeans and boxer briefs. It was almost like… he’d been lying in a pool of blood. 

So, you had to be a healer. You just had to be. 

Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to confirm this since the cops had been circling you like vultures. He also hadn’t wanted to be bitched at by any more heroes, or the fucking media, so he made himself scarce. 

But he needed to see you again. Needed to hear the truth from your own mouth. 

And maybe he could coax you into a deal. 

The doctor Bakugo spoke to yesterday obviously hadn’t known what the hell he was talking about. He had made it sound impossible to fix the blond’s ears, and yet you’d somehow done it easily, in the middle of a fucking battlefield. 

With that kind of power, Bakugo wouldn’t have to worry about going deaf or designing stupid hearing aids with some company. 

With that kind of power, Dynamight would become Japan’s Number One Hero in no time. 

But first, he had to find you. 

Resolved, Bakugo shoved the covers off and slid out of bed, but before he could make it to his bathroom, someone started knocking on his front door. 

No, not knocking. Banging. It sounded like they were trying to break the fucking door down. 

“Bakubroooooooo!” 

“Gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” Bakugo grumbled as he padded to his front door. He was only dressed in boxer briefs, but that’s what the idiot got for barging over so early in the damn morning. 

The banging persisted, growing louder and more fervent. 

“I’m fuckin’ comin!” the blond shouted just before he undid the deadbolt and wrenched open the door. 

Eijiro Kirishima, dressed in his Red Riot costume, blinked on the other side of the threshold, his fist still raised to knock. 

“What the fuck, bro?” he asked after a moment of just staring at Bakugo. 

The blond immediately scowled. “That’s my fuckin’ line. What are you doing breaking down my door at six in the damn morning?” 

“Excuse me?” his patrol and agency partner scoffed. “I’m obviously coming to check that you’re not dead since you’ve been MIA for over twenty-four hours.” 

“What?” Bakugo frowned. “I saw you yesterday morning for patrol.” 

“Noooooo,” Kirishima drawled like Bakugo was a particularly stupid child. “That was two days ago, bro. Then that night, I see you all over the damn news, and no one could get ahold of you all day yesterday. I would have come to check on you sooner, but I’ve been having to play damage control with the media because someone decided to blow up a residential neighborhood.” 

“Two days?” Bakugo echoed with a furrowed brow. He’d slept that long? 

“Have you been passed out this whole time, dude?” Kirishima groaned as he shouldered his way into the apartment. “I guess that means you got none of our messages?” 

“Our?” the blond grumbled as he closed the door and followed the redhead to the kitchen bar. 

“Yeah, Denki, Mina, Sero.” Kirishima waved his hand dismissively, marching over to the counter where Bakugo kept the fruit and selecting an apple from the wire basket. “I even asked Izuku to message you, just to see if he’d actually get a rise and response from you.” 

“I don’t need stupid Deku knowing about my problems, Shitty Hair,” Bakugo growled before he stomped over to his fridge to see what he had to eat because he was suddenly starving. 

“Well, that would imply I know your problems, Oh Great Lord Dynamight,” Kirishima snorted and took a bite of apple. “So, what the fuck happened the other night?” 

“I blew up a residential neighborhood,” the blond deadpanned as he turned on his stove, cracking a few eggs into a skillet. 

“Yeah, I saw that. I was more wondering about what led up to it.” 

“What the fuck do you think led up to it?” Bakugo snapped, rummaging through his cupboard for seasonings. “I was walking home from getting a drink, and a damn villain just popped up in front of me.” 

“From what I heard, there were other heroes there, too,” the redhead mumbled around another bite of apple. 

“Yeah, fuckin’ useless extras,” Bakugo sneered as he started to whisk his eggs with a pair of chopsticks, throwing in some leftover white rice and a bit of nori. “They obviously weren’t getting anywhere, and the bastard was tearing up the street, so I stepped in.” 

“To finish destroying the street?” Kirishima cocked an eyebrow, chewing noisily. 

“Fuck off,” the blond said with an eyeroll. 

Internally, though, Bakugo knew the redhead was right. He’d been sloppy, careless, probably still borderline drunk. But he’d just been so angry about the doctor’s appointment, his fucked-up ears, his bleak and silent future. He had just wanted to break something, hurt someone, consequences be damned. 

Except now the consequences were catching up to him. 

Fuck, he didn’t even want to think about what his citizen’s approval rating must be now. 

Silence stretched between the two pro heroes for several long minutes, in which Bakugo finished making his breakfast and Kirishima finished gnawing on his apple core. The blond quickly shoveled a few bites of eggs and rice into his mouth, but his scarlet eyes kept flicking over to the redhead. 

“How bad?” he finally asked. 

Kirishima, to his credit, had learned how to translate Bakugo’s curt grunts years ago. 

“Actually, if I’m being honest, it’s not that bad,” he sighed, tossing the apple core in the trash and scratching at the back of his head. “Could be worse. From the reports I read, most of the damage—besides the road—is superficial. Broken windows, charred and peeling paint, a few busted cars that we’re still trying to figure out if our insurance or the city’s will pay for. It also helped that you saved two people. That definitely softened the blow.” 

“Two?” Bakugo mumbled around one of his last bites. “I just remember the stupid extra on the street that I shoved out of the way.” 

As the memory flashed through his mind, Bakugo frowned. He’d shoved that extra out of the way and got snatched by a giant asphalt hand for his troubles. The blond’s red eyes dropped to his pink and blotchy left arm and then trailed over to his chest. He recalled the sensation of his ribs snapping under pressure, but now only a mild soreness lingered after he took a deep breath. Yet another inconsistency… 

“Yeah, two,” Kirishima said and drew Bakugo out of his thoughts. “Do you seriously not even remember your own heroics? And that girl had such nice things to say about you, too.” 

“Girl?” Bakugo snapped his head up. “The girl whose… apartment I fell into?” 

“Crashed into, dude,” the redhead snorted, but then he narrowed his eyes as a sly smirk tugged at his lips. “But yeah. Sounds like you remember her, huh?” 

Bakugo didn’t like the smug look on his friend’s face. 

“I remember her fuckin’ yellin’ at me.” The blond scowled. “Like I wrecked her place on purpose and didn’t just save her whole block from a lunatic.” 

“I mean, to be fair, if you crashed into my house, bro, I would have yelled at you, too.” Kirishima grinned. “But don’t worry, she’s fine. In fact, when she called the agency yesterday, she asked for you specifically.” 

“She did? Why?” Did she want to confess her healing quirk? Fuck, were there side effects Bakugo didn’t know about? 

“Bro, seriously.” Kirishima rolled his eyes. “You’re Japan’s Number Two Hero, and you saved her life. And, like Mina keeps telling you, you’re not as ugly when you stop scowling.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Bakugo flipped him off before he went to dump the dishes in the sink. 

“Yes, dear.” The redhead smirked. “But, in all seriousness, she called to figure out how to file a claim with our insurance. Or at least that’s what she said, but she also asked how you were doing, and she actually sounded genuinely worried.” 

Worried that a random side effect was going to kill him? Or worried that he would say something about her quirk? She’d obviously hidden it for a reason, tried to lie for a reason. 

And Bakugo was determined to find out just what that reason was. 

“Yeah, well, I’m fine,” he grunted as he rinsed off his plate and put it on the drying rack. “Just a few scrapes and bruises.” 

“I can see that,” Kirishima said as he eyed the butterfly stitches stretched across the gash on Bakugo’s abdomen. “Well, I’m glad I didn’t find you dead in a pool of your own blood. That woulda been a real bummer way to start the morning.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Bakugo muttered before he averted his eyes to the living room window across from him. “So… what did you tell her?” 

“The girl?” 

“No, you’re fuckin’ mom,” the blond scoffed. 

“Oh, speaking of moms, you might want to text Mitsuki. I called her last night after you ignored my billionth text, so she’s probably going crazy wondering where you are.” Kirishima grinned and then immediately dodged out of the way as Bakugo hurled a fork at him. 

“You bastard!” Bakugo hissed. “Now, I’m going to have to see that hag this weekend or she’s gonna fuckin’ barge over here.” 

“Maybe you should turn the ringer up on your phone.” The other hero shrugged, ducking again when Bakugo chucked an apple in his direction. 

The blond scowled at his friend, but he didn’t reply. 

If you and your quirk were the real deal, Bakugo wouldn’t have to worry about missing a call ever again. 

When Kirishima realized the projectiles had stopped, he popped his head over the back of the couch and smirked. “But to answer your previous question, I told the girl we would handle the insurance claim on our end if she sent us her info. And I didn’t really have anything to tell her about you since, like I’ve said, I thought you were dead. Kinda. I was at least thirty percent sure.” 

“Have you filed the insurance claim?” Bakugo asked. 

“No.” Kirishima shook his head. “She hasn’t sent in the info yet.” 

“Well… we should go get it from her.” 

This caused the redhead’s eyebrows to shoot up into his hairline, and the surprise on his face quickly made Bakugo backtrack. 

“I just… want to get this shitshow over with,” he grumbled as he averted his eyes again, but he could feel a traitorous heat crawling across the bridge of his nose. “The longer her apartment’s all fucked up, the longer the press is gonna rake me over the coals. The hero ranking’s aren’t far off, and I’m not going to lose to Deku again over some stupid broken windows.” 

“Righttttt,” Kirishima drawled, but his tone was mocking. “Okay, well, I know the hotel the police have set her up at. After we swing by the agency, we can head that way… to get her insurance info.” 

He still sounded unconvinced and like he wanted to needle Bakugo more, but the blond changed the subject quickly. 

“Why do we have to go to the agency?” Bakugo asked, and he frowned as he glanced back at his partner. “Even if I lost yesterday, my next scheduled patrol isn’t till tonight.” 

“Oh, I know.” Kirishima nodded solemnly. “But Nao wanted to have… a word with you ASAP, if I confirmed you weren’t dead.” 

“Fuckkkkkkk,” Bakugo groaned as he dropped his head back. If there was anything Bakugo hated more than the press, it was his actual PR manager. That old hag was good at her job, which meant she was always up Bakugo’s ass about something, and he knew she was going to have a field day with this shitfest. 

“Yeah, I’d recommend coffee and preemptive painkillers before we head in,” Kirishima said. “Plus, some putting on clothes. Maybe we can stop on the way and get her something sweet as a bribe.” 

“No amount of sugar is gonna make that bitch nice to me,” Bakugo grumbled before he spun on heel and started marching to his bedroom. 

“Maybe flowers then?” the redhead shouted after him. 

Bakugo slammed the door in response. 

~*~*~*~*~*~ 

“This is fuckin’ ridiculous,” Bakugo growled around his cargo, kicking his foot out at Kirishima. “Why did I listen to you? I’ve had to go shopping twice today now.” 

“Come on,” his friend laughed as he dodged the blow, which made the bags in his arms crinkle. “You can’t deny the flowers and cookies sweetened ole’ Nao up.” 

“To you,” Bakugo muttered, shifting the package in his arms a bit. “She still yelled at me for fifteen minutes.” 

“Well, you kinda deserved i—yow!” Kirishima yelped as Bakugo kicked him squarely in the ass this time. “This isn’t helping your image, bro!” 

“No one even knows it’s us,” the blond hissed. 

“Yeah, I guess the hoodies and sunglasses help,” the other pro hero mused. 

“And the fact that we’re carrying all this stupid shit.” 

“It’s not stupid.” Kirishima frowned in that earnest way of his, which made Bakugo roll his eyes. “It’s thoughtful to bring gifts to people who are having a difficult time. Especially when you made that time difficult. You basically kicked her out of her house, dude, not to mention her shop.” 

A wave of guilt actually washed through the blond, which he didn’t like. It made his throat feel tight and his stomach churn, and he glanced away from the redhead with a scowl. 

“Tch.” He clicked his tongue. “It’s not like we aren’t gonna pay for it.” 

The excuse felt flat, even to him. 

“Still,” Kirishima said as he shifted the bags in his grip, pulled out his phone, and consulted the map. “It must be stressful. So, we’re going to be nice to her, alright? Which starts with the gifts.” 

“And how is a fuckin’ fruit basket supposed to help?” Bakugo asked as he glared around the overflowing mound of crinkling plastic and bright fruit that he held against his chest. 

“Uh, one, it’s practical. Her apartment’s all fucked up, the power’s probably still out if not inconsistent on the street, and she’s been living in a hotel for two days, so she probably hasn’t had some nice fresh fruit in a while. And two, it looks nice!” 

“We coulda just left this shit at the hotel,” Bakugo grumbled. “She has to go back there eventually, right?” 

After old Nao chewed his ass out, Bakugo and Kirishima had gone to the hotel the police said they’d put you up in. Except you weren’t fucking there, and the number you left with Kirishima when you called the agency was going straight to voicemail, so here there were, fucking trekking through the city with a bunch of useless shit. 

Bakugo just kept reminding himself it would be worth it when he got the truth about your quirk out of you. 

“Nope,” Kirishima said and drew the blond out of his thoughts. “The city only pays the first two days after an emergency, unless the villain caused all the damage, but, uh, that’s not the case here, so we’ll be accommodating her until her apartment gets fixed up.” 

“At the agency?” Bakugo asked as his red eyes clicked over to his partner. 

As the Number Two and Three Heroes, the two of them had built a solid agency together. Bakugo still didn’t care for a bunch of extras riding on his tailcoats, so they had few sidekicks, all of whom reported to Kirishima and left him the fuck alone for the most part. But they owned a nice, sleek building in a nicer part of town, and one of the floors was dedicated to individual rooms with beds and other amenities. They were usually used when Bakugo, Kirishima, or the other sidekicks wanted to crash after patrol instead of going home—which Bakugo did more often than not—but they’d never had a civilian stay on the premises. 

Until now. 

“Yessssss, at the agency,” the redhead drawled as a shit-eating smirk crawled across his face. “So, you’ll be seeing a lot of her for the next couple weeks.” 

“Wipe that stupid look off your face.” Bakugo scowled and shouldered past the other hero, who snickered as he jogged to catch up. 

“Take the next left up ahead.” 

“Shut up!” the blond growled, but he followed the instructions. 

This was good news, though. Bakugo wouldn’t have to trek to this shitty part of town more than he had to. 

And he’d have a healer just down the hall. 

They marched along in silence for a few minutes, keeping their heads down, but there wasn’t much foot traffic. Bakugo was lost in his thoughts, planning out the questions he was going to ask you once he could distract Kirishima, but the redhead suddenly stopped in front of him. 

“Hey,” Bakugo grunted as the fruit basket crinkled against the other hero’s back. He hadn’t even notice Kiri get in front of him again. “What’s the damn hold up?” 

“Holy shit, dude,” Kirishima muttered, staring out at the road he’d just turned onto. 

“What?” the blond grumbled, shoving past his friend, but then he stopped, too. “Oh… yeah.” 

The street in front of him looked much worse in the bright light of midday. The road was a torn-up mess, more patches of dirt and gravel than actual asphalt. Most of the large-scale debris had been hauled away, but black scorch marks covered the sidewalks in long, dark smears. The walls of several businesses also bore charring along the facades, but most of the damage was focused in the center of the street. A crater nearly six feet deep was carved into the middle of the road, and the buildings on either side were blackened, their broken windows gaping voids. 

And then there was the hole in what Bakugo remembered as your second-floor apartment. A tarp hung over the wound, but one of the corners had come undone, flapping in the wind and giving split second glimpses into the darkened room beyond. 

Guilt crept up on him again, but Bakugo shoved it down, hunching over the fruit basket and nudging Kirishima. 

“Come on,” he muttered before he started moving forward, and a moment later he heard the crunch of boots on gravel as the redhead followed him. 

There were more people on this street than on the last several, but Bakugo could immediately tell they weren’t customers just passing through. People swept sidewalks, clearing away the last of the rubble and glass in front of their shops. Then a few old ladies stood under one awning shaking their heads, their hands laden with containers of food or gifts. 

Guess Kirishima hadn’t been wrong with this stupid idea. 

Then Bakugo realized some of those people were starting to look back at him, so he ducked his head further behind the fruit basket, grateful for his hoodie and sunglasses. 

But then suddenly he was there, standing in front of your ruined shop. His red eyes immediately flickered upward, but if there was a sign there before, it was gone now, burnt to ash. 

“What kinda shop did you say this was?” the blond asked under his breath as Kirishima paused beside him. 

“I’m… not sure,” the redhead said with a furrowed brow. “I don’t think she said on the phone. No time like the present to ask, though.” 

Before Bakugo could stop him, Kirishima shifted the bags in his arms, lifted one hand, and knocked on the charred metal frame of the front door. 

“Hello?” he called through the broken windows, followed by your name. “Anyone in there?” 

“Shit!” The squeaking voice was followed by a crashing sound somewhere in the shadows of the store. 

Bakugo didn’t speak a lot of English, but he did know curse words, and the sound of it made his lips twitch in amusement. 

“Are you okay?” Kirishima called out. “Can, uh, we come in?” 

“Yes, I’m fine!” the voice answered back in flustered Japanese. The words were fluent, though, with barely the hint of an accent. “And, um, I-I guess you can come in, but—” 

That was good enough for Bakugo. 

The blond shouldered past his partner, boots crunching over glass as he ducked into the darkened shop, and Kirishima sighed as he followed. 

The interior, if possible, looked worse than the outside. The room itself wasn’t very big, but it was a mess. Two metal rods had been embedded in the left and right walls at odd angles, obviously caused from the explosions, though Bakugo couldn’t tell what they used to be. Several pieces of blacked mannequins were scattered through the debris, and one wall was a charred mess of shelving and fabric, spots of color peeking through the black ash here and there. 

In the back, left corner were the remains of a tri-fold standing mirror, the ones where you could see yourself from different angles. Large shards of glass were missing, though, so the image of Bakugo and Kirishima standing backlit against the street was fractured. 

Last but not least, in the rear, right corner of the store was a counter that was half collapsed to the floor, behind which stood an empty doorframe that Bakugo assumed led to the back of the shop and upstairs. 

And it was from behind this broken counter that you popped up with a dustpan in one hand and a tiny, handheld broom in the other. 

The first thought Bakugo had was your face was rather plain… but in a somehow pleasing way. Like if his eyes had scanned over you in a crowd, something about the line of your jaw, the slope of your nose, the delicate quirk of your mouth would give him pause. 

His second thought was that his first one was stupid. You were just some extra, of course you would be plain and unmemorable. 

But his third thought was something about the color of your eyes was captivating, in a way that was damn fucking annoying. 

“Sorry, I was just… cleaning… up,” you said, slowly trailing off as your eyes met Bakugo’s. 

He saw the recognition flare in them immediately, followed by fear, and he couldn’t help the frown that twisted his face. 

Why were you afraid of him? 

“No, we’re sorry for barging in here like this,” Kirishima barreled on, oblivious to the stare off the other two occupants of the room were engaged in. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Oh! I’m being so rude. My name is Eijiro Kirishima, or you might know me as—” 

“Red Riot,” you breathed, finally tearing your eyes from Bakugo’s, and you flashed the redhead a half-smile that trembled along the edges. “We spoke on the phone.” 

“Yes.” Kirishima grinned, pointed teeth flashing in the dim light of the shop, before his gaze flickered over to the blond beside him. “And this is—” 

“Dynamight,” you finished once again, and you looked like you were trying desperately to maintain eye contact with the hardening hero, but then your eyes clicked back to Bakugo. You didn’t flash him a smile. “We’ve met.” 

“Oh, yeah, right,” Kiri chuckled awkwardly, and his arm jerked like he was going to rub the back of his neck, but the bags in his hands crinkled and stopped him. 

“What… do you have there?” you asked, frowning at the bags and the fruit basket the heroes were carrying. 

“Gifts!” the redhead declared as he hefted his arms up, and then he shuffled forward over charred fabric and glass and extended the bags to you. 

You blinked at him for a second, but you set the dustpan and handheld broom on the counter, where they promptly slid to the floor since the whole surface was slanted. You winced at the loud clatter and tried to cover it up by taking the bags from Kirishima, which crinkled loudly again as they transferred hands. 

Bakugo would be annoyed if he wasn’t more grateful that he could actually hear the innocuous little noise. 

“O-Oh, um, you shouldn’t have, really,” you started as you peeked into the bags, and then Bakugo swore he saw your eyebrow twitch once you saw what was inside. 

“It’s not much,” Kirishima said, and he was finally free to rub the back of his head and neck as his smile turned a little sheepish. “But, what with the state of your… apartment, we thought you might need some new clothes! And comfy clothes are the best after stressful days. These especially are super soft, we made sure of it. And, if you don’t like them, you could always sell them for a good chunk of change.” 

The redhead winked at you, not in an overly flirty manner, that was just how he was, but your cheeks flared as crimson as his hair, and your eyes dropped to the floor. 

Bakugo took the split instant to get a better look at you and noted you were wearing patched, faded jeans, solid boots, and a bleach-stained orange sweatshirt with some English writing he couldn’t read. Usually, he didn’t really see what other people wore because he couldn’t give less of a shit, but somehow he found your obvious cleaning clothes… endearing. The orange looked good on you, too. 

Fuck, maybe you didn’t heal him as well as he thought. He had to be hemorrhaging into his brain to be thinking this stupid shit. Or maybe it was a side effect of your quirk? 

He needed to get you alone and get answers. 

“Well… thank you, this was very thoughtf—oh, wow, that is soft,” you murmured as you partially drew a sweatshirt out of the bag. 

Bakugo instantly recognized the forest green and orange color scheme, and apparently so did you, because your face twitched, and you dropped the garment back into the bag and traded it for fuzzy socks with Red Riot’s signature gears stitched into them. 

“These will definitely come in handy, my feet are always cold,” you said with an awkward giggle. Then you cleared your throat to cover up the sound. “Thank you, um, Red Riot.” 

“You can call me Eijiro, or Kirishima, whatever you’re comfortable with,” the redhead said with another easy grin. “We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other, after all. Oh! We also got you a fruit basket, and I think there might be a few other sweets tucked in there.” 

Kirishima nudged Bakugo forward, and your face rippled through a range of emotions, like your brain was taking a second to catch up to everything the pro hero just spewed. First, flustered embarrassment colored your cheeks, then confusion buckled your brow, and your eyes widened before they looked at the fruit basket Bakugo was extending at you. 

“Oh, you can just put it down… um…” you trailed off as you turned to the counter and remembered it was half destroyed. Then your eyes jumped around frantically for some kind of flat surface, but the ruined shop didn’t offer any solutions. 

“Told ya we shouldn’t of brought this shit,” Bakugo grunted, shooting a scowl at Kirishima. 

“Yeahhhhh, we probably could have just delivered it to your room at the agency, my bad,” the redhead laughed. “But don’t worry, we’ll carry it back for you, along with any of your other things.” 

“My… things?” you echoed, sounding out the words like a child, and a frown marred your face. “I-I think I must be misunderstanding you, I’m sorry, I’m American. But did you say my room at the agency? As in… your hero agency?” 

“You’re American?” Kirishima asked with wide red eyes. “I wouldn’t have even guessed! Your accent is almost perfect, I thought you were maybe just from like the countryside or something.” 

“I thought you said we were supposed to be nice to her,” Bakugo snorted at his partner like you weren’t in the room, and he saw you frown at him out of the corner of his eye. 

“Oh, shit, no, that wasn’t what I meant!” Japan’s Number Three Hero immediately began waving his hands in front of his face, his mouth moving twice as fast. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I really think your accent sounds nice! It’s very cute!” 

Now, not only did your cheeks flush again, but the red hue traveled down your throat and across your collarbones, peeking out the stretched collar of your orange sweatshirt. 

Bakugo found himself half distracted by the sight, but the other half was wondering why he suddenly felt irritation flare up in his gut. 

“Okay, you don’t have to take her out on a date now,” the blond snapped, shifting his burden of fruit and plastic. 

“I-I think we might have gotten off track,” you stuttered as you clutched the bag of Dynamight and Red Riot merch to your chest. “You said something about your agency.” 

“Yes, right.” Kirishima cleared his throat. “We would have mentioned this in our follow up email after you sent in your insurance info, but—” 

“Oh, no, I’m so sorry!” you cut him off with a grimace, and you actually dipped your head and shoulders into a bow. “I meant to send that yesterday, but my laptop is broken, and my cell service isn’t great—” 

“No, no, it’s fine!” the redhead interrupted this time. “You obviously have a lot on your plate. I just meant that this might seem kind of sudden, but—” 

Fucking hell, this was taking too long. 

“You’re staying at our agency until we can pay for the repairs to your apartment and shop,” Bakugo said bluntly. If he didn’t step in, the two of you were just going to stammer circles around each other all day. “Starting tonight. We have rooms with beds and shit, so pack whatever clothes or crap you need.” 

Your mouth fell open as you gaped at Bakugo. “I… what?” 

“You deaf or something?” The words rocketed from his mouth before he could stop them, before he could even think about what he was saying, and he saw the way the question struck you like a physical blow. You flinched, your cheeks paling, and he saw dawning, guilty horror glint at the back of your eyes. 

He’d been right. You did do something to his ears. 

“Bro, you were just talking about being nice.” Kirishima frowned at Bakugo before he turned back to you. “Ignore him. We’re really sorry about the inconvenience this whole… incident has caused for you, but we’ll take care of everything you need until your shop’s grand reopening, so you don’t have to worry about a thing, okay?” 

You continued to stare at the two heroes in shocked silence, your wide eyes clicking back and forth between the two of them as you clutched the bags to your chest like a lifeline. 

“That is… all so generous,” you finally breathed, your tone rising in pitch like you were growing increasingly flustered. “It’s, um, a lot to take in.” 

“Of course.” Kirishima nodded fervently. “What else can we do to help?” 

“Could you leave?” 

Bakugo blinked in surprise and then had to stifle his snort. 

“Oh, no, I’m sorry!” you quickly followed up when you saw the redhead’s falling expression. “I didn’t mean… I just meant, could I have some time to process this? Um, alone? L-Like Dynamight said, I need to pack a few things, a-and there are some people I need to speak to before, uh… well, is it okay if I tell someone where I’ll be? Like, at your agency?” 

“Yessss?” Kirishima said with a confused frown. “Why wouldn’t that be okay?” 

“O-Oh, I just don’t really know how the whole hero and media thing works here,” you quickly lied, and Bakugo clocked the way you averted your eyes, the way your throat bobbed as you swallowed thickly. “I-I wasn’t going to post on social media or anything, I barely use that stuff anyway, but one of my customers, Mrs. Kojima, would be upset if I disappeared without saying anything.” 

“Aww, that’s sweet.” The redhead grinned before he glanced at the shadowed ruins around him. “What kind of shop is this by the way? I don’t think you mentioned.” 

“A-Alterations,” you said, ducking your face in embarrassment again. “My grandparents were a tailor and seamstress. I inherited this place from them.” 

“I thought you said you were American?” Kirishima asked, but not in an accusatory way. He was just too curious for his own good and didn’t possess much of a filter. 

Bakugo usually didn’t care for small talk, fucking waste of time if you asked him, but he found himself focusing intently on you, awaiting a response. 

“I am.” You nodded. “My parents were both born here, but they moved to the States after they married, and I was born there. After my grandparents passed, my dad was going to sell the shop, but I was looking for something… new, so I decided to move here instead about a year ago.” 

Bakugo pursed his lips at this new information. If you had a healing quirk, why were you patching up clothes in some little shop all the way across the world from your surviving family? Could it be because your quirk was dangerous? 

“Wow, that’s cool,” Kirishima said with an impressed expression that quickly turned sheepish. “Except about your grandparent’s passing. My condolences.” 

“Thank you,” you muttered, a small smile tugging at your lips, but then you quickly shook your head. “I-I’m sorry, didn’t mean to give you my whole life story, I tend to talk when I’m nervous.” 

“You don’t have to be nervous,” Red Riot laughed like he did when he was meeting shy little kids on the street, flashing his sharpened teeth jokingly and winking in an overexaggerated fashion. “I promise, we look scarier than we are.” 

“Speak for yourself, Shitty Hair,” Bakugo scoffed, which made you jump, like you’d forgotten he was there. 

And that rubbed him the wrong way for some reason. 

Kirishima merely smirked before he partially covered his mouth with his hand and lowered his voice into a stage whisper directed at you. “All bark, no bite, I’m telling you.” 

“Stop making me seem lame, you bastard!” the blond growled, but the effect was kind of ruined by the fruit basket crinkling in his hands again. 

This actually seemed to startle a giggle out of you, and the two heroes whipped around, one with a grin and the other a scowl. 

“See, you don’t need to be nervous,” Kirishima said before he slung an arm around Bakugo’s shoulders. “But we’ll get out of your hair for now so you can have some time to pack and everything. Don’t worry about picking up too much, though, we’ll have cleaning crews in here before we start the remodel, and we don’t want you to get hurt in here. If there’s stuff up in your apartment that you don’t want to bring with you to the agency but don’t want thrown out, make a list, and we’ll be sure to keep everything safe.” 

“O-Okay,” you said, still standing there with the hero merch clenched to your chest and a dumbstruck expression on your face. “T-Thank you again, Red--, erm, Kirishima.” 

“Of course!” He grinned. “I have patrol tonight, but we’ll send a car to pick you up—” 

“No,” Bakugo cut in as he locked eyes with you. “I’ll pick you up. What time?” 

The blond could see Kirishima shoot him a look in his peripherals—probably because they both had patrol tonight—but Bakugo ignored his partner, maintaining eye contact with you. 

You, meanwhile, squirmed under the explosive hero’s intense scrutiny, your face paling and flushing in turns. “I… no, you don’t have to do that, I can take the train—” 

“I insist,” he interrupted again, narrowing his eyes so you would realize he wasn’t going to back down. “Like Shitty Hair said, we caused this… inconvenience, so I’ll pick you up. What. Time?” 

You swallowed thickly, your throat audibly clicking. “S-Seven?” 

“I’ll be here at seven sharp,” Bakugo said. “And you better be out front or at least answer your phone this time.” 

You better not run, he didn’t say, but by the look on your face, you understood. 

“Seven sharp.” You nodded, biting your lip as a resigned expression settled over your features. “Got it.” 

“Great. See you then.” 

With that, Bakugo turned on heel and crunched his way out of your store, leaving Kirishima stuttering apologies in his wake. 

But that didn’t matter. 

All that mattered was, tonight, he’d finally get you alone and get to the bottom of your damn quirk.

[queenoftheworldisdead]

Cupid

Note: This is for @afriendlyblackhottie​​ Brat and Birthday challenge. Happy Bday Month 🎉🎈🎊🎂🍰! I chose Cupid by 112. Chris art work by @nix-akimbo​ she is amazing here is the original.

Summery: Ransom likes a bridesmaid.

Warning: Daddy Kink, gag, oral (reader receives), sex

Groomsman Band member Ransom x Black Reader, Knives out Alternative Universe

Leaning in the archway of the reception hall you sighed watching the newlyweds dance their first dance. You didn't want to be here. Not after all the shit he put Courtney, the bride, through.

But your bestie was the kind of girl that could not function without a man in her life. He had cheated on her five times, that you knew of. You were sure there was more, but she as well as you were tired of the berating.

It was always the same. He cheated, she cried, you picked up the pieces and then when he was ready she would go back. Pathetic.

"Aw don't pout princess your day will come" your eyes rolled at the sound of his voice. You had the misfortune to be linked with Ransom, the cousin of the groom. All the other bridesmaids drooled over him, but you weren't impressed. This rich boy was looking to add to his body count so you only interacted with him only when you needed to.

Their family had paid for this whole affair. You nearly punched one of the grooms relatives when she made a remark on Courtney's color choices. They were all on your shit list.

Just ignore him. Its almost over and you will never have to see him again.

As the song ended everyone applauded while you made your way over to the open bar. Your wrist was snagged as you crossed his path. Snatching it back you looked at him as if he grew another head.

"Look you don't want to be here I don't want to be here. Let's be miserable together." He held up his hands in surrender. You were stuck on this island and you were smart enough not to fall for dumb shit so you gave yourself permission to relax.

You both took over an empty table in the back of the massive hall. Ransom disappeared for a bit, then returned with two bottles of champagne and two glasses. The bar was an open bar, but you were sure they weren't handing out bottles left and right.

"OK let's play a game to pass the time." Ransom proposed as he approached.

"Game? What kind of game?" You waited curiously. Sitting the glasses and bottles down Ransom proceeded to pop the cork on one of the bottles of Champaign.

"We both take turns pointing out people we think the other would fuck."your mouth fell open with his boldness as he spoke. "If you guess wrong you have to take a sip. Yatta yatta you get it."

"Are you just trying to get me drunk?" You squint at him playfully suspicious.

"Nah, just bored. So come on let's play."

You watched as he poured the glasses to the brim, when he handed you the bubbling glass you thanked him. Ransom moved his chair next to you, sitting shoulder to shoulder so you both were sure to have the same view of the people on the floor.

"Ladies first" he held his glass high. You clinked your glass with his signaling ‘good game’.

"What about her?" You pointed to Courtney's great aunt. The lovely woman was at least eighty-seven, you knew this would be a 'no', but why not start off with a softball.

He gave you a look that made you snort.

"Wow was that a laugh? I seriously didn't think the ice queen was capable. You didn't even smile for the wedding photos. Achievement unlocked." Ransom was full of himself.

"No one is gonna believe I got the frost queen to crack a smile." Ransom boasted.

You took a sip from your glass so you didn't have to reply. There was nothing to smile about. You didn't approve of this wedding so you weren't going to act like you were. Courtney was lucky you even agreed to be a bridesmaid.

"OK my turn." He observed the crowded floor, before finding his mark. "Glasses two o'clock."

You searched out 'Glasses' and scoped him out. Tall, put together nicely. "Yep."

"Really?" He gave you a look, that made it hard to fight back the curl of your lip.

"Yep..I have particular taste." You say casually with a shrug.

"Well all right to each his own I guess."

"My turn" you stopped for a beat then found her. " Oh what about her?" you pointed to a tall slender blonde.

"Ugh no...That's my aunt."

"Oooops....My bad... let me see who else, umm" you looked around the room, but he only looked at you.

"Oh! Oh! Her" you pointed to Stephani, a younger cousin of Courtney's. Thick thighed, uber fit college student.

"You can't go twice. Take your sip."

"What that was your aunt that cant count" you argued back.

"A no is a no" he tutted.

"Fine" you gulped from your glass and waited your turn.

"OK my turn. Hmm...What about him" he pointed to an older man that was chatting up a bridesmaid that was way to young for him.

"Eww nah not my type, but he might have gotten a yes back in the day." You tilted your head with a smirk.

"Oh thank gawd. That's my dad."

"What the fuck? Dude gross" you slapped at his shoulder and laughed. Ransom rubbed it fanning pain.

"Hey you picked my aunt" he chuckled with you.

"Yeah but I didn't know she was your aunt!"

After finishing the first bottle you started to feel loose. Ransom's arm stretched out along the back of your chair, slyly rubbing circles on your bare arm, while you leaned snuggled into his side as you both continue to people watch.

"So what do you do?" You asked him.

Ransom was silent for a moment. Taking a long swig from the glass before looking over at you and sighing.

"I'm in a band."

"Oh really, is that your little hobby you do before you take over the board seat at your grand-papa's company?" you bit back a laugh. Ransom frowned at you, but you didn't care.

You knew of the older Thrombey, the famous author and owner of a publishing house. Through rehearsal you watched the interactions between the two and you knew that Ransom was the favorite of the acclaimed writer's brood.

"I don't want anything to do with that company believe it or not. I love music always have."

"Must be nice to play in a band bankrolled by a publishing house. What are y'all called 'Blood and Rock'" you laughed at the ridiculousness of it.

"Ha wrong again. We're called 'Coffee and Roses'. And I've been cut of financially ever since I got these bad boys" Ransom shimmed out of his blazer and rolled up his sleeves. His well toned arms were completely covered in ink. When he pulled down his collar you were able to see the massive art work that encompassed his neck, you bit into your bottom lip as he allowed you to ogle him. "This art work was not board approved " he joked. The booze mixed with Ransom's rocker bod was starting to lower your inhibitions and you needed to put a stop to it.

"Your cousin is a piece of shit." You changed the subject before taking a pull from your glass.

"Yeah well he gets that from his dad, he's always been an asshole."

"Apples don't fall far do they?" You snipped. When Ransom didn't respond you looked over, he was looking at his father who had now moved on to another pretty young thing.

"He made a mistake and he is fixing it." Ransom replied, suddenly in defense of his cousin.

The mistake in question was a child, by another woman. That baby you thought would be the final straw to break the camels back.

"Diamonds don't fix problems." You didn't come from money, but you knew that this wedding was a band-aid. And once it got wet you wondered what would be the gift for the next 'mistake'.

The groom had always bought his way out of his binds. The more he fucked up the more money he poured on it. This wedding you couldn't even fathom the cost. The wedding ring alone looked like it could choke a horse. And this destination wedding on his dime made you think on what happened in the interim leading up to this event.

"You're a really good friend. She's lucky that she has someone that cares so much." You both stared into the distance at the couple. They danced and smiled at each other so happy, but you felt sick. Ransom's sweet words made you immediately suspicious of his intent, his cousin had a habit of talking sweet, but he was a fucking snake. You weren't going to end up like Courtney.

"Look don't think that just because we got all chummy that all of a sudden I am gonna want to bang one out." You hit your glass on the table harder than you meant to, it tipped over and spilled out the rest of your drink.

When a little bit of the liquid trickled off the table and hit your dress you pushed away from the table. Just a tiny bit, nothing major to fuss about, but you had hit your limit. You'd done the wedding, you took the pictures and you stuck around for the reception. It was time to go.

You weren't about to be some random rich kids one night stand. So you stormed off. Thankfully the ball room was not far from the adjoining hotel. Marching you fumed and you cursed your friend for being this dumb, yourself for not doing more to stop this and almost falling for Ransom's charm. Mashing the buttons you thought of changing your number, wiping your hands from this friendship and looking into an overnight flight back home.

How much worse would it be now that she was legally married to that douche bag. The thought of them having kids only served to further irked you.

Before the elevator door could close a hand sliced down the middle, halting the closure.

You stood stunned as Ransom appeared out of breath and in-between the open doors.

**"Baby, I'm so tired of the way you turn my words into deception and lies"**

Ransom consumed the space between you two. Your ass hit the hand rail as the doors closed.

"I am not my father, I am not my cousin. I liked you." His confession made your heart flutter.

Don't be stupid. He is the same as the rest of his family. Don't fall for his game.

His hands rested on the bar on either side of your hips as he stood toe to toe with you. You rolled your eyes and scoffed turning away from him, unable to keep staring into those eyes.

**Don't misunderstand me when I try to speak my mind I'm only saying what's in my heart**

With one finger he brought your focus back to him. You frowned at him, you weren't weak. You weren't falling for him no matter how much your body wanted to throw in the towel.

**Cupid doesn't lie** He leaned in close and you held your breath as your heart raced.

**But you won't know unless you give it a try** Ransom whispered over your lips before kissing you gently. You broke down allowing him to invade your mouth. His lips felt soft and his firm arms a welcome feeling as they wrapped around you.

The elevator dinged loudly and you pulled back. Your lipstick smeared on his mouth made for a funny sight. Looking at the number it was your floor then back at him.

**Give it a try** Ransom pleaded.

A switch flipped inside you. Angry at yourself you pushed past him and marched to your hotel room.

He is just a spoiled rich kid trying to have fun. Don't fall for it. You try and convince yourself.

He shouted as the doors closed and you tried to ignore him.

**Cupid doesn't lie**

He shouted again. You halted, but refused to look.

"All men lie" You stopped as you replied back at him. There wasn't a woman in your life that wasn't hurt and you didn't want to join that club. You wanted to protect yourself at all cost. You heard the elevator doors close so you let out a sigh of relief.

What if you were wrong. What if he was right? A nagging thought bubbled in your mind. He was fun, you felt at easy around him. Some part of you yearned for him to come back.

You were so lost in your own head that you hadn't heard him rush up behind you. Ransom quickly spun you around, his eyes boring into your soul. The sight of which made it hard to stay angry.

**"Oh baby, true love won't lie...But we won't know unless we give it a try"**

He kissed you again. This time more hungry than before, so much so it took your breath away as he pulled back.

**"Give it a try"** he pleaded yet again.

It was hard to get the door open with Ransom latched onto your face. Fumbling with the key you tried blindly several times to get the card in the slot with your back pressed hard against the door.

Frustrated Ransom snatched the card and opened the door for you.

"Thanks Daddy" you teased, looking up through your lashes at him.

"Daddy huh?" The grin that grew on his face was devilish indeed. "So that's it...You act all bratty to get Daddy to react. Huh?"

Scooping you off your feet he carried you across the threshold. You were so surprised that he was able to handle your weight with ease, as he walked you over to the bed, before tossing you.

"Keep the dress on and pull your tits out" he command as he furiously unbuttoned his shirt.

You marveled at the fit rocker. He revealed more tats as he opened his shirt. Pushing down your off the shoulder strap you yanked your top down. Your half bra going down with it, allowing your breast to bounce free.

"Stand up."

Without a word you rose to your feet.

"Turn around."

Again you followed his orders. The way he commanded you made your need soak through your panties.

"Gonna come deep in that pretty pussy, show you who you belong to" Ransom taunted into the shell of your ear. "Say ahh."

The neck tie that had long since come undone was now being wrapped around your open mouth, wrapping it  quickly then knotting the fabric.  

Once secure Ransom proceeded to massage your breast from behind. As he tweaked your nipples you felt his cock, hard and stiff pressed into your ass.

You pushed and rubbed against it toying with him, the hum that buzzed from his lips almost sounded primal. "Nothing but a big tease huh? Daddy's going to show you what he thinks about teases."

Pushing you over on the bed you yelped through your gag. Looking over your shoulder you watched as Ransom bunched up the fabric of your dress, tossing it over your hips to expose your ass.

Feeling cocky you twerked your ass before him, the look in his eye showed that he approved of the sight. Ransom palmed your cheeks with both his hands, kneading the soft tissue as he rubbed his erection on you.

One hand moved around your hips and on the outer-lining of your panties.

"Fuck baby girl is that all for me?" Ransom's finger pulled at the elastic that touched your bud. He felt the drenched panties and pulled them back until they snapped back in place.

"Fuck baby girl" he purred.

Ransom lowered himself onto his hunches, pulling your panties down with them. You felt his tongue lapping gently at your folds. The sensation sending shivers throughout your body.

His tongue separated your lips, you knees wanted to cave at the tantalizing feel of him. Through your gag you moaned, the slow torture of his feasting was bringing you close to the finish line.

Ransom sucked hard on your bare mound adding a finger as he rose to his feet. "You taste so sweet baby." He praised as he curled his fingers inside of you.

"Do you want to come on my cock or my fingers?" He asked as your cunt tensed around his digits. Ransom knew you were getting close and you hoped he would choose the former.

"I cant hear you" he added another digit as you begged through your gag. You wanted to feel him all of him, but there was no way to make your answer clear through the fabric.

"Well, if you are not going to answer I will pick for you."

Ransom knew what you wanted, even with your desperate mumbling. Kicking your legs father apart he then removed his fingers. You whimpered at the lack of touch, but you were also thrilled to finally get what you really wanted.

The sound of his zipper going down made you antsy. You danced on the heels of your feet with anticipation of his next move.

Ransom took his cock in one hand while he spread one of your cheeks with the other. He rubbed his cock against the deep pink within your folds.

Toying with you as you mumbled through the tie. His pre-cum mixed with your juices as he pressed his tip hard against your opening.

"Are you gonna be a good girl from me?" He teased. You furiously nodded 'yes'.

You felt the pressure of him entering you as drool seeped past your gag. "Do you belong to me?" He halted, the sudden stop drove you crazy. Again you nod and shouted 'yes' through your restraint.

"Good girl."

Ransom filled you to your core, only stopping when you sheathed him completely. You gripped the fabric of the hotel duvet, you hadn't expected him to be so big.

The slapping of flesh on flesh filled the room. His moans mixed with the sounds of your sloppy sex were enough to send you over the edge.

Ransom controlled the pace, his length undeterred by your lack of space to take him in. You cried through your gag as he sent jolts through your body. "You were made for me" he proclaimed as he snapped his hips into you.

Your mewls were muffled by the tie, but you were sure whoever was in the room next to you could still make out what was happening here.

"Fuck" he growled as he fucked you into the bed. "I'm gonna fill you up."

"Gonna make you nice and round" he slapped your ass as he thrusted. You felt your core tighten.

"Fuck Daddy I want to come on your cock!" You finally shouted as the gag finally slipped from your lips.

"Come in me Daddy!" You felt him twitch inside you at your desperate pleading.

"Oh baby girl your tempting me."

"Please!" You panted.

"Fuck" Ransom shouted as he shot his load inside you. You felt him coat you as you milked him dry.

Ransom fell on-top of you and your knees buckled, causing you both to fall forward onto the bed. Ransom moved off you, sweaty and exhausted. "Don't think that I'm done with you yet."

[ptergwen]

4 times peter loved you and 1 time he said it

warnings: angst, swearing, and flash being a dickwad (love him tho)

a/n: i wasn’t sure if i would ever finish this bc i started in march? and gave up but i really like the concept so i made myself get back into it and AHH i’m really happy with how it turned out! fingers crossed y’all like too ahaha. also this is unrelated but send me requests!

-

to say you and peter were each other’s missing halves would be an absolute understatement. there wasn’t a secret you didn’t share, an inside joke you didn’t have, a text or call left unanswered, or a second you weren’t on the other’s mind.

it had been like that since your first day of freshman year. you took the seat next to peter in first period spanish, and the rest was history.

peter knew you better than you knew yourself. as cheesy as it sounded, it was true. he could guess what you were going to order at a restaurant before you picked up the menu. if you had a bad day, he’d come over to your place with tissues and hugs, without you having to ask. he knew all the little things.

you? you were a peter parker encyclopedia. you watched all his favorite movies so he could rant to you about them, and you’d actually understand what he was saying. whenever he felt overwhelmed by his chaotic life, you found a way to calm him.

you two were soulmates in best friend form.

best friends, nothing more.

♡ 1.

you had an arm around peter’s neck as you picked at some fruit on his lunch tray. his head was resting comfortably against your cheek, whole body leaning on you. impromtu cuddle sessions weren’t unusual for the two of you. they worked in both of your favors. peter was your own personal heater, and you were just really comfortable to nap on, in his opinion.

“are you gonna eat all my grapes? i was looking forward to those,” peter whined, taking one out of your hand. “are you gonna keep using me as a pillow?” you challenged. he responded by moving his head to your shoulder and chewing. “then, yes. i am gonna eat all your grapes.”

“you know what two people who share food are?” ned chimed in from across the cafeteria table. already knowing what he was implying, you sighed. “what, ned?” he cupped his hand over his mouth like he was about to spill the world’s biggest secret. “a couple.”

it wouldn’t be a regular day without ned trying to play matchmaker for you and peter. the idea made peter scoff. “leave us alone, man. that doesn’t even make sense.” “yes it does!” ned nudged mj for backup. she only raised her hands in defense. it was always a hard pass from her on getting involved in these types of things, unless she found a reason to.

“really? how?” you grabbed peter’s milk and took a sip just for the hell of it. he chuckled at that, forgetting he was supposed to be annoyed with you. a bit of milk dripped down your chin in the process. “oops,” you grimaced at yourself and licked it away.

something about the whole thing made peter’s heart clench. it was so... you were so... cute. cute was definitely the word he was looking for. wait, what? that was new. peter had always thought you were pretty and all, but he’d never found himself endeared like this over such a little thing you did. or had he? no. nope. it was ned’s stupid theory messing with him. that was all.

“y/n, dude, everyone knows it’s a thing. like, why else would someone give up their whole lunch? it’s flirting,” ned interrupted peter’s sudden thoughts about your cuteness. the smug look on his face made you want to throw the tray at him.

before you even joined their friend group, ned was on a mission to set the two of you up. peter described you to him and mj as “the actual sweetest girl ever. she makes me laugh a lot. you guys gotta meet her.” mj obviously ‘tsked’ at him, but a light bulb went off in ned’s head. peter was crushing. he just didn’t know it yet.

part of how you and peter got so close was that ned and mj used to back out of group plans. you’d end up hanging out alone most of the time. of course, it was ned’s idea. a successful idea, yes, but neither of you understood the obsession. apparently it was a guy in the chair’s duty to be a good wingman, and you should leave it to him. whatever that meant.

“if i remember correctly, you and your mom went halfsies on a piece of cake at your birthday party last year. what are you trying to tell us, leeds?” mj asked with a smirk. you and peter looked at each other and burst into laughter, ned’s mouth hanging open. the girl could really get someone when she wanted to.

“shut up, you guys! that’s different!” “so is y/n stealing my food and you calling it sharing,” peter made a point of saying more to you than ned. despite his words, he pushed the tray over to you. it was basically yours, anyway.

you thanked him with a pat on his cheek and popped more grapes into your mouth. in that moment, peter decided he’d get you all the grapes in the world if he could. jeez, he seriously needed to reel it in.

ned was only going to keep going now. “see that? peter’s such a sweet boyfriend. isn’t he, y/n?” he cooed and clasped his hands under his chin. you didn’t have the chance to change the topic before flash appeared at your table. he’d probably overheard your conversation. “penis parker is somebody’s boyfriend? good one.”

feeling peter tense up next to you, you put a hand on his shoulder to let him know you were there. you’d been in too many of these situations. the way flash talked to peter pissed you off in ways you didn’t think were possible. he was fine with everybody else, so why did he choose to pick on him? peter was the least deserving person of having to put up with it from anyone.

“just ignore him, okay? he’ll get bored and leave. works every time,” you reminded peter. too uneasy to say anything, he reached back and put his hand on top of yours. he tried to focus on how nice your touch felt instead of the fact that he was about to be humiliated by flash yet again.

“peter could totally get a girlfriend! he has, like, tons of girls after him,” ned attempted to back peter up, pleased with himself. groaning, peter put his head down on the table. he couldn’t bare to watch his friend destroy what was left of his social life. “you’re really pushing this now. stop talking,” mj warned in a whisper yell to ned. that didn’t stop flash from hearing her.

“she’s right. even parker agrees! look at him,” he snickered at peter’s embarrassed state. you’d had more than enough of him at that point. screw the silence. it wasn’t going to cut it for this one. while wingman ned was still making up stories, you tapped peter’s shoulder to find out how he was doing. his head remained down.

“you okay? want me to say something?” “i’m used to it, and no. i don’t wanna make you deal with him.” peter hated putting his issues on other people, but you couldn’t stand another second of listening to the things flash was saying. you cut into an argument between him and ned about peter’s body count. like his was any higher.

“fuck off, flash!” he stopped in the middle of his sentence. “huh?” “i said fuck off. anyone would be so lucky to date peter. you’re probably salty at him all the time because it’ll never be you,” you finally snapped. his tough guy persona faltered for a few seconds at your words, ned and mj taking the opportunity to high five you for telling him off.

peter was glad his head was still down because his cheeks were pinker than he’d like to admit. did you really mean that? would you be lucky to date him, too?

“what are you, president of the parker protection squad? or are you two a thing?” flash quickly recovered. there he went trying to get the last word in. the embarrassment for peter if you denied it was exactly what he wanted, but you weren’t letting him have it.

“ask me again some other time.” you plastered on a shit-eating grin and waved goodbye. unsatisfied with your answer, flash huffed his way back to his own table. after he was gone, peter looked up at you with something you’d never seen before twinkling in his eyes.

“thank you, y/n. you really didn’t have to say all of that.” “oh, no. don’t thank me. i‘d do it for you anytime. i am president of the parker protection squad, after all.” your fake smile turned into a genuine one for him. peter couldn’t help but mirror it.

his was heart doing that thing again. he guessed it was because he loved you so much, but this love felt different somehow. it wasn’t the friend kind of love he’d had for you all those years.

it was the kind of love he saw in the rom coms you made him watch when you got to pick for movie night. cupid’s love was the official name for it. when he put two and two together, the realization smacked him straight in the face. ned was right.

peter was starting to fall in love with you, and there was no way he could stop.

♡ 2.

peter was a workaholic. patrolaholic to be exact, especially when he had a reason. he’d sometimes find himself in a cycle of getting home late and going out early for days on end. he’d gotten used to the sleep deprivation. his grumbling stomach from missing meals wasn’t too big of a deal either. not when he had a city to save.

it was also a good distraction from everything else going on in his life. man, did he need a distraction. after peter came to terms with the fact that he loved loved his best friend, he narrowed it down to two options; telling you about his feelings or taking them to his grave. since the city was so busy, he was thankful he could throw himself into patrolling and not decide just yet.

may would usually only allow peter to patrol on weekends. school existed, and he had to take breaks. peter really wanted to help out more, so he proposed an idea that could potentially let him up it to the full seven days. he had to make it home in one piece every night for a trial week. that would prove to may he could handle it.

ignoring his black eye on tuesday and limp on thursday, it worked out. peter was positive he could finish off the week just fine. may didn’t have the same optimism. she decided that so much as a scratch on friday and it was strike three. friday came, and peter had impressively managed to end the day, like he thought, just fine.

he did one last swing around the neighborhood he was in, then started heading back to queens to gloat to may. on his way, he remembered he had to text you goodnight. he was bound by a pinky swear to you that he would do it every time he finished patrolling.

peter being spider-man was something you figured out only a few months after he got his powers. he technically exposed himself, and you pieced everything together. it all happened when spider-man offered to walk you home from school one day.

the way he rubbed the back of his neck while asking was a nervous habit that was oddly familiar, and urged you to say yes. you also thought it was strange how even though he didn’t ask for your address, he somehow knew where he was taking you. then again, he was spider-man. it was his job to know new york city and the people living in it.

you came to the conclusion you were making things up until he was about to leave. he walked you to the door of your apartment building and said, “stay safe, squirt.” nobody called you that besides peter. he came up with it because he had recently grown a few inches taller and could finally give you hell for being the short one.

needless to say, peter didn’t take off like he was intending to. he realized his slip up as soon as the nickname came out of his mouth. you brought him upstairs and had a long afternoon of questioning, explanations, and making promises.

peter typed out a message telling you he was fine and to go to sleep. as he was about to hit send, he swung too low and smacked his head right into a traffic light. that was what he got for texting while swinging. he could imagine mj giving him one of her famous safety lectures already, but that wasn’t first on his list of worries. he had a throbbing head and may’s third strike to deal with.

crap, may couldn’t know about this. she’d ban him from patrolling probably forever. going home was out of the question, but peter was in desperate need of an ice pack. there was already a bump forming from where the light hit him. his next choice would be to go to happy, only he couldn’t do that because he‘d tell may.

peter’s hands worked faster than his brain, and he started swinging over to your apartment. the overthinking began soon after. nobody wants to deal with a surprise appearance from their possibly concussed friend at 2 a.m. besides, what would he say? he’d barely seen you all week. it wasn’t fair to you, but it was too late to turn back.

peter landed on the sidewalk with an “oof” and crawled up the wall of your building. when he reached your window, he knocked in the same rhythm that he always did. no answer. he knocked louder. no answer again.

seeing as he had no other option, peter had to let himself in. he pushed on your window to see if it was unlocked. thank god it slid up then, but he made a mental note to remind you about keeping it locked another time. he climbed through the window with as little noise as possible so your family wouldn’t hear.

after navigating in the dark, peter pulled off his mask by the side of your bed. he instantly melted at the sight of you. your face was squished into your pillow, hair sprawled everywhere. you’d must have fallen asleep waiting for his text because you were holding your phone. peter was sure he’d never seen something so adorable.

he let himself stand there and watch the peaceful rise and fall of your chest. the bump on his head was no longer a priority. peter was utterly and completely entranced with you. god, why was he acting like this? oh, right. he was secretly in love with you.

before peter could help himself, he brushed some hair that had fallen into your eyes away with his fingers. you squirmed in your sleep, peter pulling his hand back. he was such an idiot sometimes. your eyes fluttered open and landed on him.

“peter? ‘s that you?” you squinted to see in the darkness of your room. he moved closer. your legs dangled over the bed as you slowly sat up. “yeah, it’s me. sorry to wake you.” he went to scratch his head out of nerves, but stopped when he remembered it really freaking hurt right there.

“‘s okay. i was hoping you’d come over soon. missed you all week.” you frowned at the red and blue clad boy in front of you. except for school, you hadn’t seen peter the past few days. “lots of crime to fight lately?” “missed you more, and yeah. been kicking lots of asses.” the awkwardness peter was imaging faded away when he plopped down next to you on your bed.

“how’s your eye doing? and the limp?” you turned his head towards you by his chin. he exhaled in relief. “getting better, i think. now that we’re talking about injuries...” the sleepiness was knocked out of you. you all but leapt to your feet and turned on the lamp by your bed. peter had a feeling you’d slightly freak.

“we’ve been making small talk and you’re hurt? what happened, peter?” “i-i sort of, um, i was texting you and swung into a traffic light.” “oh my god, where?” he pointed at his forehead with a weak smile. surely enough, there was a big bump. you gasped. “please don’t be mad at me.” “i’m not mad at you. just feel bad it was kinda my fault. do you think you have a concussion?”

you weren’t sure what to do beyond the mostly useless first aid videos they played in gym class. being an avenger, peter had had his share of experience with wounds. whenever he came to you hurt, he talked you through how to help him. the most you’d ever dealt with was a few particularly deep cuts. this was not the same.

“i‘m not sure. you could try that finger thing?” he suggested. you crouched down in front of him. “good idea. let’s do that.” as you waved your index finger back and forth and peter’s eyes followed it seemingly well, his mind was elsewhere. he was thinking about crawling into bed with you and sleeping in your arms.

“well, you passed or whatever they say. i’m pretty sure you don’t have a concussion. you’ll heal fast because of... you know.” you stood up and mimicked the way he shoots his webs. peter chuckled quietly. your thumb ran lightly over his bump, making him wince. “how bad does it feel?” “on a scale from one to ten it’s, like, a five and a half.”

although not what you wanted to hear, it was manageable. you hoped so, at least. “i’m gonna go get some stuff. change into comfortable clothes.” “yes, doctor y/n.” peter saluted you. you were happy to see he still felt up to joking around. biting your lip to hold back a smile, you made your way to the kitchen.

peter searched through the spare clothes he’d left here over the years. there were so many, you had to give him a drawer. he changed into pajama pants and a t-shirt, then sat back down criss cross on your bed.

you came in shortly after with a water bottle, two advil, and an ice pack wrapped in a towel. “i was kidding about the whole doctor thing, you know.” “too bad.” you handed him the advil and water. “take these. they’ll help until your magic healing powers kick in.” peter took the pills while you pressed the ice pack to his bump. he took it from you when he was finished.

“is that any better?” “much better. i’m all good. i should probably go soon.” he mumbled, not meaning it but also not wanting to overstay his welcome. you’d already done so much for him. you stopped him from getting up by putting a hand on his chest.

“what? you already changed, and i’m not sending you home to get killed by may. just stay.” “are you sure? i don’t wanna bother you anymore. it was annoying for me to come here so late in the first place.”

a frown set on your face. “peter, don’t you remember my promise?” there was a beat of silence while he thought about it. “that you’d help out with spidey stuff?” “however and whenever i can. i don’t know what made you think differently just now, but nothing’s gonna change that. doesn’t matter if it’s the middle of the night or early in the morning. i’m always here.”

only you could reassure him just like that. peter was really lucky to have you. really, really lucky.

“right. you’re right. sorry for... whatever that was.” “you apologize too much.” you poked his chest to punctuate your statement and switched the light off. “sorry for that, too,” he teased, wanting a reaction from you. “peter benjamin parker, just get in the bed.” “yes, ma’am.” that was enough before you changed your mind and threw him out.

you rolled to lay on the other side of peter. still pressing the ice pack to his head, he laid down next to you. it didn’t take long for both of you to be settled under the covers. “try not to bang into the wall or something,” you joked and pulled your comforter up to your chin.

peter puffed some air out of his cheeks, tugging more of it back. “you can’t be mean and hog the blanket.” “it’s my bed, so i actually can. i’ll hog everything.”

to prove your point, you moved over to peter until there was no room between you. both of you knew it was an excuse to cuddle. he wasn’t mad about it at all. peter opened an arm for you. you curled into his side, letting him hold you close. his whole body relaxed as you hugged him against you. “goodnight, spidey.” “night, squirt.”

♡ 3.

“what does that cloud look like to you?” you pointed up at the sky. peter’s eyes darted around as he tried to find exactly which one you were talking about. there were a lot of them, in his defense. you made a big circle with your finger around the cloud in question.

“the really curvy one. right there.” “kinda looks like a tiger. can we keep walking now?” peter tugged your arm linked in his in an attempt to move you from the spot you’d randomly stopped in. he made a whiny noise when you didn’t budge.

“i think it looks more like a horse, and no. why are you in such a rush?” furrowing your brows at him, you tightened your grip on his arm. “because some people don’t like cloud watching, grandma.” “i only asked you about one! i’m just... trying to get the most out of today.”

with college around the corner, you and peter both had a lot to do and a little bit of time to get it done. your only hangouts had become some shared extracurriculars and weekly study group with your other friends. trying to binge watch your shows together on facetime hadn’t been easy, for one thing. you fumbled to keep your phone up more than you payed attention.

on a more serious note, being apart sucked majorly. it was going to be this times a million when you would inevitably have to split up in a few months. thinking about it for too long usually made you cry.

peter was struggling in other ways. his more than a friend feelings for you were only getting stronger. having all that love and not being able to give it to you was hurting like hell, and he had to just pack everything up and act normal during the rare moments you were together. you were both going through it.

this was the first sunday in what felt like forever that you and peter were both free. you decided that the nice weather called for a meetup at central park. so, there you were, arm in arm on your afternoon stroll.

“don’t say it like that, y/n. you’re making me sad.” peter let out a breath as you rested your head on his shoulder. “that was the point.” you started walking again, peter following next to you. he kicked at pebbles while you smiled up at him. that made him smile at his feet. you were getting really good at making him flustered.

“so, did you finish that pre calc packet?” peter asked to distract himself. you lifted your head off his shoulder with a groan. “peter, we’re not talking about school for once. let’s talk about literally anything else.” “like what?” you were about to make a suggestion, but something caught your attention.

you raced over to a swingset, dragging peter along with you before he could realize where you were taking him. you stopped in front of it and threw your hands up to present it to him. he let out a breathy laugh. “when was the last time you went on one of these?” you asked, taking peter’s arm again. peter shook his head. “way too long ago.”

with a smile, you walked him over and took a seat on one of the swings. peter sat on the one next to you. you spun around in a circle to see how much you could twist the chains, peter laughing. “y/n, what are you doing?” “having fun. you should try it sometime.” he backed up to get himself started and grabbed his own chains. “i do have fun. it’s just not in the ways you think.”

you untwisted yourself to watch peter. “so, how?” “well,” he started going higher, “i like learning about stuff, even the things we have to in school.” “everybody knows that. that’s the first thing i thought of.” you did know everything possible about him.

everything except his new feelings for you, but this wasn’t the time for him to blurt that out. he was still figuring out when or if he should.

“guess i’m not gonna say i like movies, either.” “singing?” you were swinging next to him, turning it into an unspoken competiton for who could get the highest. peter slowed down a bit since he’d had a head start. “i suck. the only person who’s allowed to hear me is you.”

“it’s possible to suck at something and still enjoy it.” the breeze blew your hair around, peter seeing it from the corner of his eye. he’d always loved how carefree you were around him. it rubbed off.

“remind me to force you to do karaoke one day.” “you’re so annoying.” that motivated you to kick off harder on the ground. peter huffed and tried to catch up to you. “don’t be mean to your only source of fun.” if that wasn’t true, he would’ve came up with a comeback.

the only time peter remembered to relax was when he was with you. it was usually because you reminded him. he skidded to a stop on the swing and looked up at you.

“why’d you let me win? was that too mean?” you looked over your shoulder. “nah, i just got tired.” “oh. we can do something else now. catch me?” “sure,” peter chuckled and got off the swing. he stood in front of you on the grass and waited for you to get lower. you clenched your teeth into a nervous smile.

“ready?” “ready.” swinging towards him, you jumped off and expected to land in his arms. you ended up completely on top of him instead.

the wind was knocked out of both of you, but peter had it worse because he broke your fall. your hands were on his shoulders and one of his was around your lower back. neither of you realized the position you were in. you were too busy trying to breathe again.

“god, that hurt.” “my bad,” peter mumbled. in any other circumstance, he wouldn’t be complaining about this. “i should’ve warned you or something,” you dismissed him.

you were still hovering over peter, your lips dangerously close to his. he could’ve sworn they almost touched. that was when you got off of him. he only forced out a laugh. nothing ever went his way. you offered him a hand, oblivious to his inner conflict. peter took it and pulled himself up, falling into step next to you as you headed to another path.

that could’ve been a chance to make some sort of move, and he blew it.

♡ 4.

it hadn’t been easy for peter to move on from that day. his mind kept replaying the split second you almost kissed on an endless loop, and all he could do was come up with what he should’ve done in the moment.

things were getting to a point where he had no clue how to act around you. being your friend was hard, but becoming your boyfriend would be that much harder. his stupid feelings put him in an awkward place, and he was afraid you were starting to realize. he couldn’t lose you altogether.

you asked peter to meet you for coffee after school. it was this small place in between your apartments you’d both been to once before. they had really good cookies and an overall cozy feeling you liked. peter wasn’t sure what this was all about.

were you going to confront him? did ned say something? maybe it was a mistake to confide in his most gossipy friend about how he felt.

with a headache from stress and a heavy backpack hanging off his shoulders, peter walked into the café. he spotted you at a table near the window. you’d already taken the liberty of ordering, two drinks and a chocolate chip cookie waiting there. you looked up from your phone when peter pulled a chair out.

“hi.” you gave him a small smile and put your phone down. “i already got everything.” peter shrugged off his backpack with a grin. he sat down facing you. “thanks. sorry i’m kinda late. i had to stop at my locker.” you usually met him there. come to think of it, why hadn’t you today? you pushed peter’s drink over to him. “you’re fine. i came here early to get us a table, anyway.” phew.

peter bent the straw to his iced macchiato and took a sip. it made him feel grown up, casually drinking coffee with you over a boring conversation. adult life must’ve sucked. “so, how was the rest of your day?” he asked to fill the silence. you only had two classes without him after lunch, so that was a dumb question. he’d never had so much trouble talking to you.

“eh. betty fell asleep on me during this cold war documentary we had to watch.” “didn’t she say american history is her favorite?” you broke off a piece of the cookie with a laugh. “not after that. what about your day?” the light from the window was shining directly on you, blocking out everything else from peter’s view. he wanted to tell you how beautiful you were so bad, but that would be creepy.

you took a bite of your cookie and raised an eyebrow. he was staring. “uh, nothing interesting. i’m gonna patrol a little bit later.” peter sipped his drink again. you clicked your tongue and let out a breath. “that’s all you do these days.” he knew you were catching on to how off he’d been. what was he supposed to say? it would’ve helped if he’d prepared a few excuses.

“just trying to help out while i’m still here.” that was a half truth. “yeah, but you should still take some time for yourself.” you ripped open your straw wrapper and blew it at peter. he caught it just before it hit his face. rolling your eyes, you put the straw into your drink. “i hate your reflexes sometimes.” he shrugged one of his shoulders casually. “jealousy is a disease.”

neither of you said anything for a few minutes. you stared out the window while peter finished the rest of the cookie. he could tell something was on your mind. whenever you were deep in your thoughts, you sort of zoned out like this.

he was too nervous to ask you what was wrong because of the conversation you just had. it sounded like you had already considered he was being distant before today. his feelings aside, he needed to reassure you. that was more important.

“y/n?” you turned your head to look at him. “yeah?” peter’s gaze shifted from you to his thumbs twiddling in his lap. “i know we’ve both been really... busy lately, but i’m still here. don’t forget that.” a hint of a smile played on your lips. you would’ve hugged him if you could reach. “thank you, peter. i kinda needed to hear that.” he nudged your leg under the table. “of course. hey, you wanna come with me tonight?”

a couple of hours later, you were in peter’s arms on a rooftop that was much higher up than it looked. he insisted on taking you for a swing so you could get the full experience. he’d been trying to get you to do this for the longest time, so he wondered what made you agree today. you wanted to find out what was so enjoyable about it.

“i trust you, but you’re not gonna drop me, right?” your legs were around his waist, and he had one hand supporting you by your back. that wasn’t terrifying at all. you grabbed peter’s shoulders, the idea of it making you nervous. he wrapped his arm tighter around you.

“oh my god, no. i can always web you back up.” “peter! that’s not funny.” even behind the mask, you could tell he was smirking. “you’re always safe with me, squirt. don’t worry.” you brought your arms up to loop around his neck.

“i feel better now.” “good. i’m gonna jump when we get to the edge, okay?“ your whole body stiffened up. peter could sense it. as excited as he was to share this with you, he didn’t want to make you feel pressured. “or we don’t have to do it.” his voice was quiet. you tried to relax in his hold. “i’m just gonna close my eyes. i think that’ll help.” “we’re about to find out.”

peter started walking towards the edge of the building with you holding on even tighter to him, your eyes squeezed shut. he kept finding himself in situations where he was close to you in the ways he’d been wishing for, but never for the same reasons. it was bittersweet.

he bit down on his lip and aimed his free hand at a building. you squealed when he leaned back. “i’m jumping now,” he prepared you, and before you could respond, you were in the air. you hid your face in peter’s chest the second you felt yourself pretty much flying.

“what the fuck, you like this?” you had to yell so he could hear you. peter shot another web to keep swinging. “it’s really not that bad! try looking up!” he shouted back, clearly amused.

grip tightening around his neck, you slowly pulled your face away from him. he kept you close as he swung. you somehow convinced yourself you weren’t going to die by looking at something besides peter. your eyes landed on the sky behind his head.

the sun was almost completely set, deep pink and orange merging together against the glowing lights of the city. you were finally understanding why he liked this so much. it was beautiful.

peter peeked at you for a second to check on you. he swore his heart was going to explode out of his chest. the look of adoration on your face, it was even better than the view. it was the view. the little moments where peter got to see you this way made him realize how in love with you he really was.

“this is... wow. i get it now,” you laughed in disbelief, watching as the city whirled past you. peter smiled so big it hurt. “pretty awesome, huh?” one of your hands slid back down to his shoulder. “take me with you more often.”

♡ 5.

peter licked his lips out of habit as he held the door open for may, who was following behind him with a look of pride. he was about to graduate high school. the ceremony was being held in a really nice stadium-like place. trying to find it added minutes on to the parker tradition of being late to everything important.

peter wasn’t as concerned with his tardiness as he was with finding you.

while he tossed and turned in bed the night before, he went over his whole school year in his head. that meant little things and big things. he was starting to drift off until he remembered a conversation with ned a few weeks back. they decided on a deadline for peter to tell you about his feelings, and it was before graduation.

they chose it because if peter got rejected, he’d be over it by the time college started. that was the goal.

it wasn’t that peter had changed his mind. it was that he completely forgot. he didn’t have a solid plan for what he should do. these things needed to be decided way in advance. he ended up pulling something together last minute because it was you. plus, this extra pressure gave him the push to go through with it. somewhere between steps seven and eight, he passed out.

may rushed him to get ready because he’d slept past his alarm. the whole morning was a mess, and he had at most fifteen minutes to confess his love to you by the time he got there.

“you should go make sure you’re marked here. i��ll see you after. love you.” may pressed a kiss to his cheek and half-jogged to the auditorium for a seat. he squeezed her arm and headed off to check in. your whole grade was already lined up along the walls for what looked like miles. the deal was to tell you before graduation. he still had about ten minutes.

peter walked past hundreds of students with his heartbeat thumping in his ears. everyone was in alphabetical order, so it didn’t take too long to find you. relief washed over you when you saw peter. you were worried he wouldn’t show up at all. his cap was in his hand, hair getting tangled from running his fingers through it. he looked at you with pleading eyes.

“finally, i’ve been trying to call you all morning. where were you?” your tone was dripping with concern. “i overslept. there’s something i gotta tell you, y/n.” he gulped. you smiled in a way that was kind of pitying. “we’re about to start going inside. i- you have to wait, pete. go get lined up.”

this wasn’t how it was going to end. not again.

he looked around to see who was watching, then he grabbed your wrist. “peter, what are you-“ “just come with me really quick.” despite yourself, you let him lead you down the hallway. you dodged a couple of teachers having a conversation and went into a bathroom that was vacant by some chance. he let go of you after the door shut. you stood behind it while he walked over to a sink.

it was making you anxious to not be out there. you could be late. peter was the same way when it came to school, so you knew this had to be pretty serious. you gave up the battle with yourself and made your way over to him. he was looking at himself in the mirror, trying to get a stray curl back in place.

“let me help.” you stood next to him. he turned to face you, that same look of urgency still in his eyes. you used two fingers to brush through his hair. there was so much gel that it was wet enough to mess with. you smiled a bit and took your hand out of his hair. his hand was gripping the sink.

“you look good, pete. you smell good, too.” “so do you.” his voice was lower than usual. you flattened out the material of your blue gown. “thanks. so, talk to me. what’s up?”

the question was so simple, but way too many answers were running through peter’s brain. he wasn’t even sure he’d have enough time to explain everything now. this was why he needed a written out and carefully crafted plan.

but, like he said to himself last night, this was you. his best friend in the entire world and any other that might exist. the person who’s been there for his most embarrassing moments, and who’s been responsible for some of his best ones. if he couldn’t finally say the three words he’d said to you so many times before, what was the point?

his fingers drummed a steady rhythm while he mustered up the last remaining bit of courage in him. you watched him expectantly, waiting for him to say something. “just, um...” he was stalling. he pulled his hand off the sink. “i... love you.” peter only glanced at you for a second, too afraid to see your reaction. “i love you, too. is everything okay?” his heart sank. you thought he meant it in the friend way.

that was what he got for being so terrible with words.

“no, y/n. not like that.” he blurted. you were lost. peter pressed his back against the wall and sat down. confused and equally worried, you sat next to him on the floor. “then what do you mean? you’re scaring me.” he checked the watch may made him wear to see how much time was left before graduation. four minutes. he really should’ve woken up on time.

“we have to get back in line soon. i don’t wanna miss-“ “i love you, y/n. i’m in love with you.” a weight that had been on peter’s chest for months was lifted just by saying it. you squinted your eyes at him, but said nothing.

“i’ve been trying to tell you for a while, and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same. i just had to say it.” “fuck, are you serious?” you sounded what peter could only describe as disappointed. yeah, it was unrequited. here came a summer of crying. “i was gonna tell you first.”

peter’s breath hitched in his throat, and he swore you could hear it. he was so sleep deprived that it felt like he was hallucinating. you shook your head as heat came to your cheeks.

“how long have you...” peter trailed off, an eye crinkling smile interrupting him. “that day we went for coffee. something clicked, so i thought for a while and figured it out. i think i’ve loved you for a really long time.”

you inched closer to peter, just barely resting your head on his shoulder. for once, you felt like the shy one. he put his hand on top of yours. his thumb traced over each of your fingers. “i’d ask you out, but you know. we don’t really have time.”

“peter, it won’t take that long.” you giggled. he squeezed your hand in his. “hm. y/n, would you wanna go out with me after this?” you thought about teasing him for it, but he was right. you had to go. that was the friend still in you. “i’d love to go out with you, peter.”

with that, you both jumped to your feet and ran out of the bathroom. you were still holding hands, and a few classmates made faces when you rushed past them to get to your spots. you exchanged one last smile with peter before lining up.

the person in front of you said everybody was looking for you two. honestly, you didn’t care all that much. you were too excited for your date later. peter already knew he’d be checking his watch throughout the whole ceremony.

it was a best friend and soulmate thing.

[mellowswriting]

Sweet but Fierce S/O

**some of these are more blurbs than headcanons... what can I say, it got away from me

Mando: 

The duality is something Mando sees often with you, and he can’t deny that he loves it. You aren’t just sweet and soft with him, an experienced bounty hunter who by definition was the opposite of soft, but you were so good with the Child. You could get him to sleep like you had cast a spell over him, fed and played and talked with him as if you could actually understand his babbling. Soft and sweet wasn’t something Mando saw often in his life and now he can’t get enough of it.

But Mando is familiar with fierce, and seeing the way you protect the Child and his beskar-clad father? It honestly turns him on beyond comprehension. How can the same hands that provide comfort and care so readily also viciously break the bones in the wrist of someone unfortunate enough to have made a grab for the Child? How can the same hands that make warm, delicious food for your little clan (a habit you picked up after balking at Mando’s tendency to survive solely on ration bars) also steadily hold a blaster to the temple of an idiot who tried to remove Mando’s helmet?

As a Mandalorian, he is so used to the world being black and white, either or. Every bit of you is refreshing to him - the considerate gestures, the soothing touches, the biting need to protect those you love. It’s a precious quality. 

It’s also incredibly attractive. Mandalorian culture is based in caring for and protecting children, so seeing you so fiercely loving?? Basically it makes him want to rail you into oblivion, but that’s neither here nor there. 

Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales:

Frankie could use a little sweetness in his life. It’s been a tough time, coming back from all that shit that went down in South America. He was closer than ever with the boys of course, but something was missing. He needed something more. So when Pope introduced you to him at his barbeque, Frankie was beyond interested.

It was a whirlwind, falling in love with you. You changed his life in the best ways; taught him which yoga poses would help with his achy back, filled his house with soft blankets and delicious coffees, listened to him ramble on as he drove. And the way you talked about your work, your career? It’s enamoring. 

Your work is how he gets to see that fierce side. The two of you were out to lunch when your phone rang - it was one of your clients, apparently dealing with some sort of crisis. Frankie couldn’t deny you when you asked him to drive you to her home, especially since he had driven you to the small restaurant. Frankie leans against his car door as you go up to her house. 

Apparently her landlord was illegally trying to evict her. You have no issue getting in his face and telling him with a terrifying kind of calm that you have no issue calling the police and your company’s lawyers. You’ll have him buried in litigation and fines for the next decade if he doesn’t stop being a greedy piece of shit and go about his day elsewhere. If that wasn’t enough to have Frankie wide eyed (and drooling just a bit tbh), you seem to fall right back into your sweet self as you calm your client and reassure her that all will be fine. 

Hell, maybe Frankie could use a little spitfire in his life, too.

Javier Peña:

How? Just. How?

Javier doesn't understand how you've managed to be so sweet when surrounded by the shit you both worked with everyday. Your eyes are so bright and soft, your smiles easy and pure, every gesture full of unwavering kindness. Working in admin meant you saw all of the reports, all of the gruesome pictures of the aftermath of Escobar’s men. So again: how?

Christ, you always offer to get coffees for him and Murphy on those endlessly long days where every lead seems to fizzle out and he wants nothing more than to put his hand through a wall. Your presence is a bright spot in the office, even when the rain clouds hang heavy around his head. 

Javier seeks you out on those bad days. It isn’t intentional - usually, at least. He’ll tell Murphy he needs to go for a walk before he starts throwing things and will find himself at your desk with you looking up at him with those big, soft eyes and asking if you can help at all. If only he had the words to tell you that your presence was helpful in and of itself. 

Eventually Murphy gets onto him about it, tells him to just ask you out already because he’s tired of the longing. So Javi bucks up and makes his way to your desk with a surprising amount of nerves in his stomach. Fuck, how long had it been since he asked someone on an actual date and not just out to drinks as a prelude to fucking?

The sight of Agent Buchanan perched slightly on the edge of your desk gives him pause. The man is obviously laying on the charm and Javi is about to turn on his heel when he notices how uncomfortable you look. Javi’s eyes narrow because seriously? This dude is gonna fuck with the one literal ray of sunshine in the office? Buchanan leans forward and places his hand on your thigh and that’s when Javier is marching forward to break his spine in fucking half…

Before he can even get to you, you slip your fingers under his and give him that soft, sweet smile… and Buchanan’s middle finger is shoved back at a vicious angle. Over his pained sounds, Javier can hear the anger in your voice. “I said no thank you, asshole.”

Holy fuck. If Javier was interested before, he’s downright obsessed now. 

And as always, the honorable mention of Javier’s innocence kink. 

Ezra: 

At first Ezra thinks it's some sort of bluff, the charming and easygoing nature you portrayed. When you came across him in the Green wounded and in dire need of a new filter and probably a meal or two, you just… helped him. His very own partner left him for dead, and here you were, offering him a lifeline without expecting anything in return.

Yeah, no. That’s not something that happens, especially not in the Green.

He isn’t afraid to call you on it, either. This man is straight and to the point in every aspect of his life, might as well do the same in his death instead of getting jerked around. But you just… grinned, all conspiratorial, and whispered, “I’m actually just using you for good karma. This is a selfish act, don’t worry.” 

Huh.

It takes Ezra a moment to be assured that you aren’t playing some kind of long con as you nurse him back to health. You still clean his wounds and force him to take medication to help his lungs recover from the toxic air with confidence and ease despite his untrusting looks. Once he gets over his fears, there’s no getting rid of him. Ezra likes you. He likes the sweetness, the gentle touches. That’s why he offers you his partnership and beams when you accept.

Besides simply liking you, your kindness is a rarity that sparks a deep need in Ezra to keep you safe, protected. The idea of you harvesting on your own with no one to watch your back makes him feel sick to his stomach.

It’s the third day he’s out harvesting with you that he realizes you absolutely do not need his protection. You hear the duo approaching before Ezra does and immediately shove him into the raised, gnarled roots behind a tree - and the shot that would’ve caught him in the chest flies harmlessly past. Before Ezra can tell you to stay put and let him handle it, you’re scrambling out from behind the tree and he can hear the sound of your thrower discharging and a body crumpling to the ground. 

Ezra shoots out to help but you’re trying to wrestle the other man to the ground and Kevva damnit, he can’t get a clear shot with all that writhing about. Just as he goes to jump into the mix, whatever hold you have on the man straightens his arm out behind his back in a harsh, unforgiving line. The man’s thrower slips from his incapacitated hand and the sight of you snatching up midair and firing it right through his helmet has to be the most erotic thing Ezra has ever seen.

You can expect this man to wax poetic about the twofold of your personality for hours. Goes on and on about how he loves seeing the different ways you light up: in passion, in pleasure, in anger. It’s downright titillating. 

Marcus Pike:

Working with you gives leaves Marcus in the perfect position to see both sides. You’re so compassionate with the victims as you guide them through the legal processes but you also look ridiculously hot with a gun in your hand. Or while you pull on your bulletproof vest. Or when you’re strapping a holster to your thigh.

What can he say, Marcus can’t get enough of you either way. 

He loves when you give him that grateful smile when he brings you a coffee. The shoulder rubs you give him when he’s been sitting at his desk for too long leave him hazy with a mix of love and pleasure. The way you open your arms up for him to crawl into bed, still half asleep but still wanting him against you… it was pure heaven. 

Marcus also loves the hard edge in your voice when you’re interrogating a suspect. He loves the fire in your eyes when he wraps a hand around your throat and growls out exactly what he’s going to do to you, that bratty energy radiating off you and filling him with the need to break you down until he gets to see the pretty, begging glimmer of his sweet little thing again. 

Max Phillips:

Max is the kind of man who loves having a pretty, wide eyed thing beneath him, watching their face morph into that surprised pleasure. That’s exactly what he’s gonna get from you, too. He just knows it.

You’re the kind of person everyone loves working with, always offering a smile and kind words throughout the day. You work so hard and so diligently, that work ethic is something that leaves you offering your assistance when you’ve finished up before closing time. Max thrives on those moments where you peek into his office and ask if there’s anything he needs - maybe a coffee or some help with some paperwork. 

One day he decides, fuck it. Throws caution to the wind because hey, this is Max fucking Phillips we’re talking about here. So he waves you in when you pop by, lets you sit in one of the chairs on the other side of his desk, and whispers “You can help by bending that pretty little ass over my desk.”, his hands braced on either armrest. 

The last thing Max expects is a harsh smack across his face. He stumbles back, eyes wide as you stand and glare at him. “Go fuck yourself, Phillips.” 

Okay, yeah. He deserved that. The great thing about him, though? Max also loves the chase. And what could be better than slowly but surely convincing you that the best thing for you is letting him rail you into oblivion? 

Pero Tovar:

Before he sees that fierce side of you, Pero keeps his distance. He’s a sellsword for god’s sake, he feels he has no business around such softness. He’ll hurt you, he’s sure of it. But that doesn’t stop him from looking. Pero often sees you in the market and every time, you take his breath away. You could usually be found aiding an elder in gathering their shopping into their carts or kneeling down to speak with the local children running amok.

As a man who spent his life surrounded by battle and hardship, it was a nice change.

It wasn’t long until he caught your eye, and Pero floundered. He didn’t know what to do with that first small gesture - he just stared at you when you offered him a small bundle of cheeses and meat to aid him on his two month long journey he was about to set off on. Of course he later cursed himself for the stunned silence he offered in response to your well wishes and the small wave you gave before you left him standing like a fool next to his horse. 

Pero would thank you properly when he returned, that was the resolve he came to while away. You deserved to hear the words at the very least. He takes a moment to clean up before he sets out to find you, not wanting you to see him covered in grime, and as always, he spots you within moments of entering the village. Except something is… off. Your face through the shop window lacks it’s usual brightness, your eyebrows pinched together, something akin to fear replacing the brightness your eyes usually held. That’s when Pero realizes there’s a man holding a dagger to the shopkeeper and demanding the man's coin. 

By the time Pero has his own dagger in hand and shoves through the door, the man is already crumpling to the ground from the harsh kick you landed at the back of his knee. Pero watches in  awe as you take advantage of his confusion to snatch the blade from his hand and point it at him with your foot pressed firm to his back. 

Despite just how amazing you look like that, Pero takes over quickly, wanting you out of harm’s way immediately. The assailant is taken care of after a small struggle and when you rush towards him to make sure he isn’t hurt, a fire lights in his belly. As you fret over him, your soft hands searching for any harm to his scarred, calloused skin, Pero knows. He’s found his person, he can feel it in his gut, deep in his bones. 

[beskarberry]

Silver and Steel

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 2 (The Mandalorian x f!reader)

It was then you noticed the open wall next to you. The steel panel was slid open to reveal a vault packed corner to corner with more firepower than you had ever seen in one place. Your eyes roamed from blaster to rifle to flamethrower, noticing that not all of them were made for five fingered hands. This wasn't just an armory, it was a trophy case.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 7.5k

Content warnings: ALOT. Descriptions of violence (a little spicier than canon) blood mention, near death experiences, hurt/COMFORT, fluff, smut exhaustion sex, top!reader.

A/N: I hope y’all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it but yeah PLEASE READ THOSE CONTENT WARNINGS!! It all works out ok in the end! Also good chunks of this was inspired by a particular filk song called Call the Navigator which I’ll link in the replies so the external link doesn’t ef up my post.

<-Previous Next->

"Med pack... junk....junk....spotchka?....is that all you've got?"

You were bent over a deep supply crate, your legs barely touching the ground while you dug through what you had hoped would be the food stock. There were several banged up tins of rations and a handful of miscellaneous junk, but nothing that looked real food. You were clean and dry after your shower, but the energy that had been spent in this very supply room just an hour or so earlier had to be replenished. "Where’s the rest of it?"

The silence coming from the cockpit was expected, but still frustrating. With a huff you grabbed two food tins and made your way through the old ship towards the ladder. At the top though a small antechamber you found your new comrade seated in the pilot chair, fussing with the buttons on the console. On either side and slightly behind his chair were two other passenger seats, though the one on his left was missing a good deal of padding. The cockpit was poorly lit save for the lighted console and the dusty starlight overhead. Though you were in the air, you could tell you were still on Tatooine. Hooray. Why are we still here? The great Dune Sea stretched out on all sides, sparsely dotted with sand people villages, but you couldn’t see any of the large space ports such as Mos Eisley or Mos Espa. In the ships’ darkness you couldn't tell what the lumpy thing was in the other chair, probably blankets or laundry. You went to toss it off the seat when a pair of huge black orbs peeped out from the heap of fabric.

"The fuck is THAT?!" You rocketed backwards, dropping the food tins in the process. The bug eyed creature made a soft cooing noise and lifted the rest of the blanket off itself, allowing two gigantic green ears to pop into view. It didn't look like a threat, in fact it looked kinda cute, but you knew it could still be dangerous. A pair of stubby three-fingered hands made grabby motions at you, the little creature giggling at your bewildered face. " Where'd you find this thing, is it some kind of pet?"

"He's not a pet." Finished fiddling with the console, Mando turned in his chair to readjust the blanket that had slumped off of the small beastie. It squealed happily and wiggled in its comfy cocoon before noticing the food tins that were still on the floor. He pointed the tiniest claw at them and chirped at you, demanding to be fed. "You'd better give him one of those before he gets mad."

It took you a moment to process what he said before scooping one of the tins off the floor, peeling back the lid and placing the dish in the seat next to the little thing. He greedily scooped the mystery mash into his tiny toothy mouth, gibbering between bites. You picked the remaining tin off the floor and leaned against the door frame, watching it happily chow down.

"If it's not a pet then what is it?"

"He's my..." the Mandalorian paused, fishing for the right words to say, "...he is my child."

That was not at all the answer you expected, if he had said emotional support gremlin you would have been less confused. The baby was still making a mess of his dinner, almost dropping his plate before Mando snatched it and set it carefully back in his lap. You had seen first hand that there was a human under all that metal plating, and your tired brain fizzled trying to make the connection between the two very different beings. Mando could tell by your puzzled face that he had some explaining to do.

He told you the tale of how he had been charged to bring the baby in as a high credit bounty, but after he used the reward to get new armor he went back and stole the child away from its captors. He talked about the Mandalorian concept of a 'foundling' and that he himself was one too. At some point you had popped your food tin open and started eating, though you were so captivated by his story that you couldn't remember doing so. When he'd finished you set your empty dish on the busted chair and gently held your hand out for the child to grab with one mush covered paw, who babbled excitedly at his new friend.

Behind you his parental guardian was rigid, ready to take you out if you made one wrong move against his precious cargo. Though he had been the one to steal you away and forgo freezing you in carbonite he still didn’t exactly trust you, your reputation as a hunter-killer was what had driven your bounty so high. He knew you were disarmed, but what else could you be capable of? However, you weren't paying mama-hen Mando any mind. Instead you let the baby play with your hand a bit before he returned to his food. You decided that the only place left to sit was on the floor. Squished into the tiny space between the passenger and pilot seats was cramped, but it gave you a fantastic view out the rounded transperisteel window into the vastness of the night sky.

“Your story sounds awful familiar.” You turned your attention to the metal clad man, watching him fidget with the steering controls. “You abandoned a guild reward for anothers wellbeing, like I did. Someone that didn’t deserve to be dragged back in cuffs. Is that why you picked up the puck on me? Some kind of kindred spirit something or other?”

“We’re nothing alike.” He was watching out the window, focused on flying the ship to unknown destinations, but he was bouncing the leg farthest away from you. So when the cogwheels turn in your head, the machine moves somewhere else. If you hadn’t experienced his human body first hand you could have easily convinced yourself he was a droid.

“Now that’s not true. You told the guild to get fucked because your moral compass was pointing the other way. I didn't just let that quarry go y'know? It was more than that. There was... there was someone she had to get back to. And the New Republic was just gonna lock her ass up and for what? It wasn't right." You remembered that Togruta woman, pointing a blaster at you with tears in her eyes and her belly swollen with a child that did not belong to the man she was being forced to marry. A few thousand credits weren’t worth another child being made an orphan, and you gave her your ship to escape in while you led hunters on a wild-bantha chase away from her. You knew it drove the guild insane but you wouldn’t have it any other way. A tiny green foot poked itself out from under the blankets by your head, bringing you out of your reverie. On reflex you tucked it back into the safety of his blankies.

Though you thankfully didn’t remember much of your early childhood, you knew you had come from Corellia. You didn’t know if you had parents or siblings, but there had been many other young street urchins in your alley behind the shipyard, and all you had then were each other. You never planned on having any kids yourself, but they were still something to be protected. At all costs, if necessary. “I’m guessing this little dude is happy with that decision.”

Mando had begun to take the ship closer to the ground, it was almost totally dark outside but you could see on the radar there was a large mountainous formation up ahead. Carefully, he landed the beat up craft on a sturdy outcropping of rocks, kicking up whirlwinds of dust and sand. Far out over the sand you could see a collection of lumpy looking ruins that were slowly succumbing to the march of the dunes. You guessed this was where your quarry was hiding out.

The baby was starting to get sleepy, his huge eyes disappearing slowly as the weight of his eyelids became too much. His little head rolled forward, threatening to toss him off his seat. Your big mean bounty hunter heart couldn’t take it, so you scrambled to your feet and scooped the baby up in your arms, sitting down in his seat to get him situated in your lap. He fussed and squirmed a bit, but you had learned a no-fail trick from the Corellian ship builders that would often help to sneak orphaned children onto their ships and off that skughole of a planet towards a better life. Many years ago they had done the same for you.

“Oh, I have sailed the midnight sea from Hoth to Arvala-5.

Seen the Cloudshape Falls of Alderaan, met rocks that were alive.

But soon I came to realize as world to world I roamed,

That nowhere in the galaxy could really be my home.”

The songs you knew were often sang by whole crews of starship sailors, loud enough to shake their durasteel walls, but you dropped your voice low and soft to turn the star-shanty into a lullaby. The baby was watching you with glittering eyes, he had stopped his wiggling and curled up tightly against your chest.

“So call the navigator, set the course and go!

We've stars and planets to explore, my wild heart tells me so.

Beneath the metal decking I can hear the engine sigh

And all I need is a mighty ship and a staaaa-aarr to guide her by”

A tiny yawn betrayed his wondrous eyes, and he gave up and closed them shut, rubbing his little hands on his face. You lowered your voice to almost a whisper.

“I've seen a million beauties and I've known a million fears,

And life is what I've found between the laughter and the tears.

Still I will sail the last frontier through worlds both tame and wild,

And marvel at their strangeness with the wonder of a child”

Soft snores were your only applause, the baby having drifted off mid stanza. You hummed a few more lines of the song to be sure he was asleep. The cockpit was as dark as the surrounding sky, but the glint of silver caught your attention. Starlight reflected off the beskar plates in a way that made the black of his visor seem darker than the heart of a collapsed star, and just as deadly. The Mandalorian was watching you intently, completely motionless.

The precious moment with the baby had made you very forgetful of the dangerous situation you were actually in. You had been captured, you were this man’s prisoner and yet here you were all cozy in the chair with his adopted son in your lap. You glared back at him, matching his fierce gaze when the little green bundle moved to get more comfortable, one tiny hand catching claws in the top you were wearing; a tunic that did not belong to you.

“Here, you take him then.” Your voice was hushed so as not to wake the child, and you raised him up gently to try and unhook him from your shirt. Immediately there were two gloved hands coming to lift the baby off of your lap. He was a monolith of leather and metal, but the way he pulled his son in close was so gentle that all the ferocity of his profession dissipated like mist. Mando carefully tucked the blanket under the sleeping little baby and wrapped him up tight before slowly turning away from you and the flight deck to head down the ladder in total silence, leaving you alone in the dark.

You watched him go, the top of his shiny silver head disappearing into the floor. Without the sounds of life in the cockpit the quiet of the night weighed heavy on your ears. He still hadn’t told you why he had kept you out of the carbonite, all you had done was let him use you as his personal play-thing... and maybe murder off some of his bounty hunting competition, but that wasn’t much to go off of. You had done worse for much less. Put your skills to better use, that’s what he had said. Absently you toyed with the end of your sleeve, no, not your sleeve. His sleeve.

That was another thing, what reason did he have to show you hospitality when his first interaction with you had been so violent? Binding you and marching your ass through the desert after he had fucking shot you. Your escape plan had almost worked, ha! All you would’ve had to do is tire him out and run but that had backfired entirely. The apex of your thighs still thrummed with sensation, warm and blissful. Though you’d had lovers in the past you usually didn’t still feel them so deeply afterwards. The smell of the fresher soap still clung to your body and clothes. Clutching at the collar of your sweater you pulled it to your face and breathed deep, letting the heady scent of it fill your lungs.

“Let’s go. We have work to do.” The modulated voice coming from the ladder startled you from your guilty indulgence and sprang you to your feet, but the source of the voice was already back down the ladder. You sheepishly followed suit.

“You plan on telling me what we’re up to exactly?” Down below the Mandalorian was loading himself with ammunition, each and every slot on his many bandoliers was packed to the brim with charges. His pulse rifle was slung over one shoulder, clanking up against a new piece of equipment you hadn’t seen before. Some kind of jet pack maybe.

“I have two bounties to catch on Tatooine. One of them conveniently fell into a sarlacc pit. The other one's hiding out down there." A bounty fob blinked red in his hand; quick flashes indicated that the target was close by. “If you help me with this, you’re off the hook. I’ll tell Karga you’re dead and the guild will stop sending hunters after you. But-” He turned to face you, he was holding your beat-up old back pack by one ratty leather strap. "If for one second I think you'll turn against me, I'll take the half credits for your corpse."

"You're one to talk!" You hissed, storming up to the gunslinger with the ferocity of a lothcat. "You kidnapped me! I didn't ask to be here."

The man in question didn't budge under your verbal assault. "Do we have a deal or not?"

He forced your backpack into your arms to accentuate his point. You ripped it from his grasp and stormed to the other side of the cabin. Everything was still inside; a pack of bacta patches, a few mementos, three busted tracking fobs and some blaster charges. Speaking of blaster-

"Where’s my gun, Mando?" Your question was answered when you turned back to face him. He was holding it by its barrel, extending the grip towards you. You met his visor with contempt, but took the old blaster from him carefully as not to cause a misfire. It would be nice to not be on the run from a guild you had pledged your loyal services to for so many years, that now wanted you delivered back to them in carbonite; and you knew that Karga would trust his favorite hunter. The life of a moisture farmer wasn’t what you dreamed of when you escaped Corellia. Fuck that. "Yeah, it's a deal. One hunt and I'm gone."

It was then you noticed the open wall next to you. The steel panel was slid open to reveal a vault packed corner to corner with more firepower than you had ever seen in one place. Your eyes roamed from blaster to rifle to flamethrower, noticing that not all of them were made for five fingered hands. This wasn't just an armory, it was a trophy case.

If he didn't want you to ogle his wares he should have closed the panel, but instead he joined you at the wall, picking up some extra plasma cartridges and a vibroblade with a curved handle, which he pushed into your hands. "Will that be enough?"

Either you trust me or you don't, pick a side, tin can. You didn't answer him right away, opting to pull a chest holster and another couple of blasters down from the wall. You cinched the holsters tight and tucked a blaster in on either side, slung a disruptor over your back and stuffed the knife in your boot. Once you had everything in place you stuck your fists on your hips like a superhero with a confidant nod. "Yeah, that should be good."

Mando was watching you with intensity, his visor going over each of your weapon choices. He tugged on your holsters’ cross straps to make sure they were secured. You rolled your eyes at him, "I know how to dress myself, sir."

No answer. Typical. He stopped fussing with your straps and turned back to the wall, selecting a heavy multi-ammo bandolier. He stepped closer to you, wrapping both arms around your waist to fit the belt in place on your hips. You tried to convince yourself that it was the cool beskar of his chest plate pressed up against you that sent a shiver down your spine. The physical contact was over as quickly as it had been initiated, and then he was back in the vault fishing out the tiny silver explosives that fit neatly into the circular latches on either side of your belt, handing them to you without a word. Finished with his selection he pressed a few buttons on his vambrace, one to slide the armory shut and another to summon an egg-shaped hover crib to float to his side. Inside its shell the child was sound asleep, a heart-melting smile on his tiny little face. As adorable as he was, you furrowed your brow in confusion.

“Is he coming too?”

“Where I go, he goes.” Mando said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He strode back to the supply crate you had been digging through earlier and packed a handful of rations into a bag for the journey through the dunes. Cool desert air gusted into the stuffy cabin as the access ramp fell open, and the three of you headed out into the darkness of Tatooine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your dreams were hazy and feverish, shots of blaster fire flickered through the fog from unknown assailants. The smell of blood and blast plasma strong in your nose even while unconscious. You saw the sneering face of a Twi’lek twist in agony and purple blood painted his face before he winked out of existence, replaced in your mindscape with bloody hands. Your hands. Then there was cold beskar on your cheek and strong arms hauling you from the carnage. Harsh wind in your ears and the ground spiraling away beneath you. The howling wind so loud you couldn't hear the questions being barked in your face. Pain, the smell of burning skin, then nothing. You felt objects moving frantically nearby, and something soft and green was pressing into your ribs. Your eyes, heavy as they were, fluttered open to see two huge black orbs staring up from your side where bright red blood was staining the sheets under you. Is that ... my blood?

“Hey green bean...what’cha up to?” Your voice was hoarse and weak, scratching its way out reluctantly past chapped lips. Talking made your head pound, you reached up to cradle your aching skull when two leather tipped hands caught yours and held them steady.

“Easy... Don’t move too much. Please.” Your hands were gently set back down at your sides, shooting pain up your arms. A large black and silver body was hunched beside you, frantically sticking bacta patches to your skin.

“Mand...do? What…what happened?” Your voice was barely a whisper, so faint the recycled air of the cabin threatened to whisk it away.

“You got the bastard, but that fucking Twi' managed to get a shot off in your gut point blank before he went down. You shouldn't have survived that but you did.” Is that a compliment? He was wrapping a long gauze bandage around your arm, fixing the bacta patches in place so they could do their thing. It hurt, but not as much as you thought it should have. Down by your side the child had rolled into you face first, passed out cold next to an emergency cauterizer. Mando nodded at his sleeping son, “And if it wasn’t for him, you’d be dead for sure.” 

The baby? How is he involved with this? Thoughts echoed loudly in your skull, and you decided that thinky time was over. The little guy had the right idea, you should sleep now, embrace the comfort of the dark behind your eyes, let it swallow you whole.

“Hey hey hey! Not yet. Stay with me, ok? You need to drink something. Here.” An armored hand slid under your head, urging you to sit up just enough to take a drink out of the metal canteen pressed against your lips. “You need to stay awake, just for a little while.” Cool water graced your dry mouth and dripped onto your chin. Embarrassed by your mess you tried to wipe the droplets away but once again your arms were halted in place. A rough piece of fabric dabbed at your face.

“I’m not a baby, Mando. I can take care of myself.” The creeping sting of blast-burn that still scalded your skin told you that might not be true. The bacta was just starting to seep into your bloodstream, but it would take some time to work its magic.

“I know that. I was with you down there in the fray. A rancor would have been less terrifying to face than you. But right now I need you to hold still.”

Another compliment? Or was that sarcasm? You’re losing your edge, tin man. You tried to roll your eyes but the effort made your head spin; you glanced around the cabin, trying to avoid meeting the visor that was pinning you to the cot. Strewn about the floor of the ship was what was left of your holsters and weapons, splattered with red and purple blood. You couldn’t be sure, but it looked like one belt had been blasted to smithereens, torn strips of leather the only indication it had been there at all. Farther away you saw a dark block in the carbonite freezer. The Twi’lek from your nightmare was frozen solid, though from his limp posture you guessed he had stopped moving long before he was put in the chamber. One of his long lekku had been cut clean off, and even in carbonite you could see the wound was fresh. Something long and curved stuck victoriously out of the center of his chest. Your vibroblade, lodged to the hilt in his sternum.

Mando was still kneeling on the floor by your side, and though you couldn’t see his face his hunched shoulders gave you the feeling that he was distraught. He still had your head resting in his palm, his thumb absently toying with your hair. Maybe it was the bacta running through your system that made you start to feel warm and gooey on the inside, but the sensation of his hand on your scalp felt... nice. Nice to be touched in a way that wasn't just for survival. Though you had already felt his hands on your body this was something else entirely. Sincere. Maybe it was just the first time somebody near you wasn't trying to kill or capture you. You foolish girl, you've already been captured. Are you so lonely that a gentle touch makes you melt? Maybe it's you that's losing your edge.

"You should have left me for dead, cashed in on that half credit reward."

"That is not The Way." His mantra was rehearsed, spoken as easily as he drew breath, but you could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

“Well... thank you for not letting me bleed out.” You could see the top of the baby's green little noggin still curled up against your side, though the part of your ribs he was leaning on didn’t have a single mark. You looked for the blast wound that Mando was supposedly talking about, but aside from a handful of plasma burns your skin was smooth and healthy; the pool of dried blood under you was the only indication anything had been there at all. What kind of mando magic is that? And what did he mean about the child? Your first thought was how disappointed you were there wouldn’t be a good scar. Your second was realizing your top was missing. Shreds of it were still on your shoulders, but the front had been ripped off completely to get to your vanished wounds. Mando seemed like he didn’t even care, he had been so focused on patching you up that the idea of modesty was thrown out the window, but you couldn’t help teasing him. “There’s not a scratch on me, Mando. You just wanted me topless, didn’t you?”

His thumb on your scalp froze, his visor going from your face to your chest with rapid snaps. Without letting your head drop he used his other hand to tear his cloak from his back and throw it over you and the sleeping baby. “Better?”

Party pooper. “Yes, thank you.” Why is he being so nice? He must have ulterior motives, right? Why keep me alive if not to cash in on that bounty? You decided to push his buttons some more. “This bed sucks. Is this why you're so crotchety? Because you sleep on this Maker-forsaken thing? It’s making my back hurt.”

The cot you were on was spartan at best, more of a cloth covered bucket than a bed. It was recessed into the wall opposite of the armory, bits of machinery and droid parts hanging over the space above you. There wasn’t much of a gap between your head and the durasteel plating of the ship’s hull. Your teasing was rewarded with a long, tired sigh. The hand that cushioned your head moved down to your shoulders, pushing on you so that you sat up straight. You scooped the baby off of your side and into your arms, trying to ignore the dried blood from your wounds that stained the sheets before swaddling the sleeping bean in his father’s cloak. The metal man rose from the floor, letting go of you just long enough to remove his cross-belts and unlatch his chest plate, setting them on the floor with a dull thunk. He squished himself between the wall and your back, his dorsal plate scraping loudly without its cape. He scooched one armored leg around you until it was between your hip and the wall on your side, pulling you into his lap and turning his whole body into a pillow, letting your torso rest on his. He was used to the sharp metal bed frame, but that didn’t mean you should be subjected to it.

“Is this ok?”

You could only nod, your cheeks flushing red with a mix of emotions. It was more than ok, his formidable body was warm and comfortable. His arms wrapped around your waist, helping to support not only you but also his foundling. The spice of him was strong now with him on your back, worn leather and metal and that damn fresher soap that was making a fool out of you. Underneath his steady breathing the sound of something rhythmic caught your attention, it was quick and faint, but unmistakably the sound of his heartbeat. His heart is racing. Listen to that engine purr.

Behind you a man with a name you may never know watched your chest slowly rise and fall with each breath, not with lust but something unfamiliar though not unwelcome. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, whether from the ordeal of keeping you alive or the fact that you were in his arms again he couldn't be sure. He sighed, trying to convince himself to calm down, but the deep breath he took only flooded his senses with the essence of you, threatening to melt the beskar off his head with the heat rushing to his face. He couldn't help the way his fingers traced over your skin, careful not to undo any of the bacta patches. He jumped slightly when your hands found his, but the weight of the child still in your arms made it difficult to reach your fingers. The glove you were touching was suddenly empty, and a bare hand snaked out from under the cloak that kept you modest. With the press of a button the child’s pram floated its way over to you from the supply crates. The baby’s adopted father carefully lifted the sleeping creature off your lap and into his hover crib, another button press on the vambrace and the shield door slid closed.

His hand returned to the safety of the cloak, pulling the other glove off before finding your fingers again. His skin was so warm you couldn't help but imagine his hands somewhere more intimate. Evil, evil bacta... Maybe you wouldn't have to.

"I should thank you properly." It was impossible to hide the tiredness of your voice, but he was close enough you only needed to whisper. His grasp tightened around you, your once plush pillow was now a rigid wall of muscle.

"You should go to sleep." the sound of his baritone words so close to your ear made your skin prickle. Too late for that. Slowly you guided his hand down your belly until your tangled hands bumped into your belt line. A low growl rumbled out of the modulator.  “Cyar'ika... you need to rest."

The alien term of endearment made you hum, but you ignored his words of warning and pushed his hand under the tough fabric till his fingertips found your heat, both of you gasping softly at first contact. His free hand fumbled with your button, and after some difficulty you undid it for him along with the zipper. With space to work, with his wrist moved freely, lazily rolling a calloused fingertip against your clit; remembering his lesson from the first time he experienced your body, his touch was light as a feather.

There wasn’t much you could do for him in the position you were in, so you leaned back against him and relaxed, letting him enjoy you at his own pace. The bottom of his helmet was pressed into the crook of your neck, and though it was sharp you could feel something warm and soft underneath it. So there is a real man under there. Scruffy stubble brushed at your skin and sent goosebumps down your chest. Under the beskar his eyes followed the prickling trail that lead under the tattered cloak you still wore to your breasts, watching the way the fabric pointed where your nipples grew hard for him. His other hand couldn’t resist finding its way to your pert peaks, rolling them between his fingers in that way he knew flushed you with heat. Soft gasps rewarded his ears as he worked at your breast and clit, rubbing them in tandem. Your hips rolled into one hand and your back arched into the other, urging him to help you build your climax. He obliged, adding a second finger to pinch your clit softly between strong digits until you fell apart around him.

The pressure that was building behind you and pressing into your spine told you that if you wanted more from him you would have to give him a better angle. You started to get up, but the hands on your sensitive spots held you in place.

“What about your injuries? I don’t want to hurt you.” What injuries? There’s nothing left! His voice was filled with sincerity, a far cry from your first encounter. You didn’t answer him, instead you found each of his hands and squeezed them with a hum, asking him to trust that the bacta had set in and made you comfortable enough to move from your impromptu med bay. He slid his fingers out from your burning core, dragging the wetness from your cunt over your skin until his palms were on your back, helping to push you up off of him. The teeny tiny bed frame made it difficult to spin yourself around until you were facing him, and even more difficult to kick your pants off as you passed over top of him, but he never took his hands away from you to keep you steady until you were seated in his lap.

Straddling his waist you rolled your hips over where his cock was hidden from you, making him shudder under your legs. His arms glided from your knees to your hips, languidly making their way up your sides and past your breasts to the last remaining tatters of the black knit sweater he had allowed you to wear. Hooking a thumb under its ruined edges, he slid it up over your arms and cast it away into the darkness of the ship. His hands went right back to working at your breasts, massaging them like dough in time with your grinding hips. You took a moment to admire how he looked underneath you, his remaining armor glinting in the hazy ship light as his hands searched for every sensitive inch of your chest. You knew from legend that his helmet could never be removed in front of you, but you’d never heard anything about the rest of his clothes. Where his chest plate had been was a strappy flak jacket dotted with magnetic fasteners. Your hands went slowly to the first clasp, and the hands that were so indulged in you froze, his body stiff between your legs.

“Is this ok?” The irony of you repeating his question from earlier back to him made your lips turn in a sly smile. 

“Y-yes.” His voice was nearly imperceptible, and you realized that he was shaking. You looked to his visor, watching him nod in consent before you continued. He dropped his hands to your hips, pulling down on your thighs and rutting up into you while you busied yourself with the complicated under armor until it fell away at his sides, revealing a pair of suspenders and an identical black knit tunic as the one that had been shredded off of you. You didn’t have the energy to peel every article of clothing off of him, so this would have to do. Without his cloak bunched around his shoulders you were able to see the flesh of his throat, so warm and inviting that you wanted to sink your teeth into it.

You bent down to nibble at the exposed skin, and the filthy moan that rattled out of the helmet sent shivers down your spine. The taste of him was exquisite, better than you could have imagined under all that fabric and leather. The overwhelming cocktail of his scent straight from the source made you bold. You kissed your way around the edge of his helmet where the metal met his skin until you found his pulse point and made good on your desires. His body convulsed when you bit down, sucking at the tender skin until you left blooming marks that would be there for days.

“Cyar'ika... Please...“ There was that word again, you didn’t know what it meant but the way he breathed it like a prayer felt like warm honey in your belly. Releasing his tormented neck you ran your hands down his broad chest until your thumbs bumped the leather suspenders that lead you down to his waist line where you were able to tug the edge of his shirt free, giving you a delicious window of his tummy; well-muscled and dusted with dark brown hair. 

“What’s wrong, tin man? Nobody ever touch you like this before?” He was still shaking while you ran your hands under the edge of his shirt and through the soft treasure trail of fuzz from the top of his belt line to the bottom of his ribs. He couldn’t answer you, his breath caught in his throat at the sensation of your hands on his skin, but you were starting to put the pieces of his puzzle together. No, probably not.

You decided not to torture him any longer. The fabric of his pants was nearly stretched to capacity and wet with your slick. You had to stretch one leg out onto the floor to get enough of a footing to lift yourself high enough off him that you could free him from the canvas prison. His cock nearly burst out of its confines, and your face flushed red at the sight of him standing proudly at attention, twitching in your hands with a flood of shimmering precum made just for you.

His chest was heaving, ragged breaths forcing their way out of his modulator before you’d even taken his length. You used your hips to notch him at your entrance and his grip on your thighs clenched like a steel trap. Slowly you lowered yourself onto him, letting him fill you until you were stretched wide. Your eyes met his visor, though from the way it was tilted you knew he was watching himself disappear into you. His arms wrapped tightly under your ass as he thrust into you hard enough that he lifted you off the cot, quickly scooting both your bodies down the bed until he was flat on his back. You tried to stay upright, but his pounding soon had your head spinning until you were falling forward into his chest, digging your arms around his shoulders in a way you were becoming familiar with. Your hands found their way to the back of his helmet to where his hair line started, sneaking a few fingers under the metal edge to tangle in his curls. The Mandalorian’s hands were on your waist, holding you in place while he rocketed up into you, filling the ships cabin with the sound of wet slaps. His thick cock hit different from this angle, grinding up against the sweet spot deep inside you with each rut until you started seeing stars behind your eyes. He could feel you building up around him and he quickened his pace until you were gasping his name.

“M-mando! I... I’m gonna....” Your muscles coiled with heat until you burst, your sweet cunt fluttering around his still pumping cock until he went cascading over the edge of ecstasy with you, his helmet vibrating with a guttural roar. His feverish body shook, giving you a few short thrusts to milk the cum from his cock until it spilled out from where he was lost inside you.

His shaky arms held onto you so tightly, as if you would blast away into space if he let go. The endorphins flooding his head made him want to pour his heart out and tell you everything, bare himself in body and soul for the first time in his life. He wanted to tell you how nice you had looked in his clothes, how the loose knit fabric draped over your breasts was a work of art; even more so when you were standing before him armed to the teeth in his hunting trophies. How seeing you slice that fucking Twi’lek to ribbons was more graceful than any ballet. The sight of the bloody hole that had been burned into your side had made his skin crawl. Mando wasn’t ready to explain the child’s healing powers, he barely understood them himself; but if it wasn’t for the baby he would have been burying your corpse instead of tending your wounds. Instead of experiencing your living body like he was now.

His heart fluttered at the thought of his foundling healing you with his baby sorcerer magic, his tiny green paws pushed on your side where the blood was spilling from your wound. The thought of you dying for his bounty made him sick, but pride flushed the sensation away when he thought back to that first day with you up in the flight deck. How when his baby boy was restless that you acted, not with malice but with tenderness and care. He'd never wanted to rip his helmet off faster in all his days than when you sang his son a lullaby, the sweet tune of it filtering through his sensory equipment, and he longed to hear it as it was meant to be. In that moment he had been entranced, but the fierce glare of his visor had made you feel threatened. He didn't want that. He wanted to make you feel safe. The same way you had made his child feel, the same way you made him feel now. Like the galaxy itself couldn’t tear you from him.

But the ugly truth was that soon it would all end when you both went your separate ways. All the feelings he wanted to confess to you died in his mouth, leaving a bitter taste that brought him back to reality. You still straddled his waist, and though the blood had long since left his cock it still sat neatly in your heat, letting him feel your gentle heartbeat around him. Carefully he pulled himself free from the apex of your thighs and rolled you both sideways onto the unforgiving cot, letting gravity shuffle you down until you were nestled in the crook of his arm. He couldn’t help brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, meeting your half lidded eyes with his own behind the visor.

“I don’t think I can get to the fresher this time.” Your voice was barely a whisper, and the edges of sleep crept unbidden to your eyes; the traumatic activities of the day finally winning over your endurance. “You’re probably going to have to burn these sheets.”

Mando hummed with indifference, though for you he would burn all of Tatooine down if you asked. All the lovely thoughts that had danced through his mind came rolling through again, haloed in the warm light of afterglow. Only one made its way past his lips, sneaking out of the helmets’ modulator like a prayer.

“How does the song end?”

“Mmm?” You were so close to sleep, so cozy and full of cum that you knew would be a fun mess for morning-you to clean up. You wracked your brain trying to remember what the hell he was talking about. The star-shanty? “Why, do you need a lullaby too?”

“N-no. Just curious. When you leave, my foundling might ask me about it.” Liar. The calloused hand gliding up and down your spine brought the original contract you made with him ringing through your skull. One hunt and I’m gone.

“Leave? I’m not going anywhere until I see you tell Karga face to face that I’m rotting in a sarlacc pit. No take-backs. That old dog will probably dance when he hears he won’t have to part with his credits and I want to catch it on holo-corder.”

The rumbling sigh deep in his chest sounded more like an engine powering down than a mortal man, and it told you more than words ever could. The arm you had around his chest was met with strong fingers that intertwined with your own. He doesn’t want me to go. Who are you, Mandalorian?

“Tell me anyway? Please?” His arms tightened like a fortress around you. His words were distant, echoing out from somewhere in dreamland instead of right by your ear. Alright you big softie, if you’re going to beg me. You sighed heavily against him, trying to recall the songs of your distant past. 

“The nights are long between the stars, and lonely too for me,

I wonder how I might have fared with home and family.

But the bonds of friendship I have formed will last my lifetime through,

Security is not for me, my dreams are all of you.”

The same soft snores that had been your original encore with the baby now ghosted in your ear, muffled by the mysterious beskar helmet but still unmistakable. Like father like son. 

The weight of his arms around you was like nothing you had ever felt in your years on the run. You had traveled so far and met so many living beings but not once had you let another share your bed while you slept. You could get used to this. The thought was the last you had before sleep overtook you, your body slumping against his while you dreamed of silver and steel.

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TAG LIST

@mandoinevarro​ @mrsparknuts​ @cookiejuicedesu​

[xynetak]

Last night, I killed my first open mic since the March 2020 lockdown. 🤘

I wasn’t expecting much from The Sandwich Factory Lounge and Sports Bar in Neffsville, PA, but the place was packed with old head blues rock biker types, with a few scattered withered millennials. (It was busy in a way that disconcerted me, a triple vaxxed human, but I know that’s something I will have to learn to get over as we move forward into an ever nearing post-COVID future)

I love doing open mics, because no one ever knows what to expect of me. Whether you’re a dude who’s been shredding for as long as I’ve been alive, or the owner of the coffee shop who set up the night, rarely am I pegged at first glance as someone who can competently perform. Probably because I’m a woman, but we’ll just gloss over that for the moment and get to the good part.

The gentleman who was clearly in charge, Jerry, wasn’t taken aback when I said I’d be performing by myself, but he looked a little disappointed. I was only allowed 3 songs, so I did 2 covers and an original. I tend to choose my songs based on the audience, so I decided to open with Clint Eastwood by Gorillaz (for the withered millennials), then do Sellout (gotta have an original, may as well play a classic where my voice sounds good), and then finish out with White Rabbit by Jefferson Airplane (always a hit, especially with the boomers and older gen Xers).

Realizing how long it’s been since I played White Rabbit with a full band (over a decade, been a long time since Wonderland), I decided to bite the silver bullet and ask Jerry if he knew the song. The way his eyes lit up- “I love that song. We can back you up on bass, too”. I had instantly made a friend.

I signed up for slot 3, so I didn’t have to wait long to play, but I am not exaggerating when I say I had absolutely no fucking clue what I had walked into.

First off, there was a house band. A full house band. One of the dudes played keyboard and bass and sang at the same time, VERY WELL, mind you. I don’t know if they think of themselves as the house band or just as the dudes who show up every week, but you could tell they all knew each other and knew how to play together. It was also as loud as a stadium concert for some reason, maybe because most of the clientele was people over 50 who have been attending rock shows since their teens.

I was almost nervous to follow them, but fortunately a teenage girl butchered a cover of Wonderwall to take care of being the one absolute bomb of the night. Poor kid, it happens to the best of us.

Soon it came time for me to fly solo into uncharted territory, and of course I forgot a battery for my guitar, so we tried to mic her, then that didn’t work because she’s quiet as hell, so I asked if I could borrow the last dude’s acoustic guitar. He graciously agreed and helped me get set up.

I love when a room gets quiet for me. It starts slowly; like a wave, and some people never shut up, but it sort of echoes out from front row. They realize I’m doing something worth paying attention to, and their conversations slow. Their heads turn. Suddenly, someone is trying to turn my mic up, or the volume up, or something to hear me over the din. I finished Clint Eastwood to round of pleasant applause, but I don’t know how many people recognized it, just that I was doing something vocally that intrigued them.

Next came Sellout, which is when I just decide to floor it. These dudes had been shredding and being loud all night and I don’t get to use my Big Girl Belt that often. I growled. I wailed. I let my voice consume my throat and swallow up all the air in the room. I let myself howl. This time it was a much more enthusiastic round of applause.

Now, it was time for me to join the Sandwich Factory Rotating Blues Rock Quartet. Jerry hopped on drums and I turned to Mr. Keys-Bass so he could see what chords I was playing. I left lead guitarist to figure it out, he’d been lighting up his fretboard all night so I knew he’d be fine.

And when I say we played White Rabbit, I mean WE PLAYED WHITE RABBIT.

And when I say I sang White Rabbit, I mean, I SANG WHITE RABBIT. That song is a journey that I will enjoy taking every single time I am privileged enough to fully do so. Big Girl Belt and all. There’s just something I can feel that changes in me when I’m singing to my full power, a switch that flicks off, or is it on? I don’t know yet.

Commence the thunderous applause.

Commence people coming up to high five me the rest of the night.

Commence the “where did you come from”

The “Who is Kate Nyx?”

The “you’ve really got something”

I’m thinking about going back next week. 🖤

[imagines-r-s]

sticking it - j. farabee

chapter 1

a/n: ok, this chapter is very dialogue heavy lmao, but yolo. (feedback is always welcome, feel free to send asks about the series, i would absolutely love to talk about it.) i’m also kinda debating to have a ‘sticking it’ blurb night sometime soon?? anyways i hope you all enjoy this one 

taglist: @butgilinsky @barbienoturbby @sunsetholland @lovenhlboys @sortagaysortahigh @hockey-racing-fubol @oopsiedoopsie23​ (if you want to be added, just send me an ask)

warnings: uh, kathryn? that can be considered a warning i think, swearing, i think that’s it? if i missed anything lmk 

sticking it masterlist

wc: 3.2k

(gif not mine)

“You want me to go where with you?” Joel asked the group in front of him.

“My cousin has a gymnastics meet and we were wondering if you wanted to go with us tonight after practice?” Kevin repeated for the third time. 

“Dude, you have to come. These things are surprisingly super fun, it’s not hockey and there’s no physical fighting, but it’s still pretty cool,” Travis said, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Are you guys going to keep asking until I say yes?” to which Kevin, Nolan, and TK all nodded their heads. “Fine, I’ll go.”

“Ok, sweet. Karly is planning on coming, too, so I’ll just meet you guys there,” Travis interjected as he grabbed his practice bag. 

“We’ll pick you up around 4:30, we have to get there early since Pat has to give his pep talk, all traditional stuff, yada, yada, yada,” Kevin said. 

“Yeah, okay, just let me know when you’re on your way,” Joel said as the two of them went to their cars. 

…..

“y/n, I don’t understand why you’re still worried, your knee will be fine,” Nicole reassured you as the two of you walked into the arena, “Adrian already said you’ve been out for long enough and he’s waiting to hear news of the y/n y/l/n revenge tour, you can’t let him down, dude.”

You rolled your eyes, “well, Adrian can suck it up, he’ll be fine.”

“Ok, that’s how you want to be, then tell Marcus and Michelle that you’re scratching every event today. It’s fine by me, you’re my competition, but good luck petitioning onto the Olympic team after that,” Nicole said, walking ahead of you towards the locker rooms to get dressed. 

“Wait, Nic, stop,” you quickly followed after her, “Your reverse psychology isn’t going to work on me, but I’m not scratching every event.”

“That’s what I thought. Now, babes, you have to realize you’re going to be okay and getting in your head about it will only push you back ten steps. And I missed having actual competition,” Nicole caught the small smile on your face in the mirror, “ok, we honestly have to get ready if we want to have time in the tunnels before we compete.” 

Grabbing your garment bag that held your competition leo and warm-ups in, you started to get ready. Quickly getting your leo on, you took note of how beautiful the new leo was. A navy blue, long sleeve leo with mesh sleeves and rhinestone decals or as Michelle always called it ‘all blinged out’. Once you put on your warm up pants, you did a light makeup look that was pretty much just eye shadow and mascara and then pulled your hair up in a tight, but simple messy bun. 

“Are your boys coming tonight?” Nicole asked, meeting you by the door of the locker room. “Yeah, you know Kevin wouldn’t miss it, but I don’t know if anyone else is coming,” you replied. 

“Oh, well Nolan better be here, you need your pep talk,” Nicole added which made you laugh, “okay, well I’m going to let you do your pre-warm up-warm up and I’ll see you out there soon. You got this, babes.” 

Once you saw Nicole leave the tunnel, you immediately put your headphones in and started listening to one of the hype playlist that Nolan had put together for you. You went through visualizing your routines, visualizing the perfect motions, tumbling, and skills. You were stretching your legs out when you heard a familiar laugh sound from one side of the hallway, turning you saw Karly, TK, Nolan, Kev, and then beside them, Joel Farabee. 

You had never met him personally, but you had seen him play enough times to know who he was. He was also usually included in game highlights if you missed a game, so you were well aware how significant he was to the team. 

You stood up quickly and made your way over to them, “Karly, omg, I’ve missed you, babes. Tiki Bar, I’m still planning on stealing your girlfriend, just so you know.”

“You really have your priorities in order, don’t you, y/n/n?” Travis said.

“I like to think so. Hey, Kev, thank you for bringing your friends along for the y/n y/l/n revenge tour.”

“Dude, you didn’t mention this tour?” Nolan questioned. 

“Oh, well Adrian said this is my comeback meet, so it’s a revenge tour to show how cool I am,” when you got a nod in response from Nolan, you looked over to Joel who stood awkwardly beside him, “Farabee, do you talk or just stand awkwardly 24/7?”

When he heard you say his name, his eyebrows rose in surprise, “how come you know me, but I don’t know you?”

“Well, you see, I actually talk to people instead of just standing off to the side awkwardly. Plus, you’re literally Kev’s teammate, so it would be bad if I didn’t realize who you were.”

“I feel like you’re just upset I wasn’t talking to you, babe,” Joel added. 

“Awe, yes, of course. The pain in my heart from not talking to you is unbearable, thank you for sparing a few words,” you said sarcastically, placing your hand over your heart.

“Ok, children, that’s enough of that for today. We just came to wish you good luck, we’re going to go wait outside the tunnel so that way you can get your pep talk as usual. Now, c’mon, Beezer,” Kevin pushed Joel out of the way and towards the exit before he could say anything else. 

“Are we skipping over that for right now or?” Nolan asked as you walked back to where you were standing by the wall before they came over. When he got a simple nod in response he let out a simple ok, “what event are you starting on?”

“Floor. I’m pretty sure at least.”

“Ok, what’s the worst thing about the floor for you right now?” and the two of you talked about each event like you did every competition. Nolan doing his best to make sure that you talked out everything that was on your mind. Giving you a quick hug and a quick you got this, he made his way back towards his seat. You made your way back to get your warm up jacket from the locker room and went to find Marcus. 

By the time Nolan had made it back to his seat, the announcement that warm up and stretching would start now went off. “Ok, I genuinely thought the only people that did gymnastics were like 10 year olds,” Joel said. 

“10 year olds doing gymnastics is honestly a really boring thing to watch. Like when y/n was 10, I hated going to her meets. She was good, yeah, but it was boring and all of them had the same routines. 0/10 would not recommend,” Kevin added. 

“Are we all just ignoring whatever the fuck happened when y/n/n met Joel? Or was I the only one that noticed?” Nolan was shocked by the fact that no one had mentioned it. When the group went quiet for a moment, the only thing that could be heard was Karly holding back a laugh. “Care to share with the class, Karly?”

“Nope. I want to see how this one plays out before I make any comments,” to which the whole group looked at her confused. “It’s a developing story. It has to develop, obviously.”

Once the national anthem was over, the first event that you had was floor. “y/n/n, I don’t care how you do today, I just need you to go for everything. You have it in you to get high scores anyways, so just focus on doing your skills,” Marcus said, “you just have to do this 1 minute and 30 second routine, land all your tumbling, do your jumps well, stay tight, and you got this.”

“Representing the United States of America, y/n y/l/n on floor,” the announcer read over the loudspeaker. 

“Alright Twinkle Toes, go have fun out there,” Marcus told you one last time before you made your way up to the floor. You stood there anxiously, awaiting the judges who were somehow never ready on time to salute you. Once they did salute you, you flashed your best smile and marched onto the floor, going to your beginning pose. 

The group up in the stands were anxiously awaiting for your music to start, which did include Kevin having to yell at Joel to put his phone up before you performed. All of them believed in you, but this was your first competition back and they weren’t sure how it would go. Would you be back to your old competition level? Better? Would you hurt your knee again? They knew the risks, but simply pushed it to the back of their head. 

Just stick the landings. Four tumbling passes. Three leap series. Two turns. And one score. You have worked your ass off to get back to where you are now; this was your comeback and if you started off great, you could only go up from there. Hearing the beep that signaled that the floor music was starting, the first few notes of ‘Feeling Good’ rang out and you started your routine. 

Starting off your routine with a small dance combo and some poses, you went straight in with two back to back tumbling passes. After the first tumbling pass, the tension in your body eased up. You were back in your element for the first time officially since your injury and you couldn’t have felt better. Right now you didn’t care what score you got, you were just happy to be back. You went for your leaps and jumps, then your final two tumbling passes. 

After finishing your routine in your end pose, you saluted the judges again and practically ran back to Marcus. “I did it, oh my god. I did that,” you weren’t in shock, but the realization finally hit you that you had officially had a great start to the comeback tour. “Yeah, we all knew you could, y/n/n. I’m not shocked,” Marcus hugged you. 

When the camera came around as results of your routine came back, you simply smiled and waved towards the camera as you listened to Marcus tell you the plan for the rest of the competition. When the score results came up, it showed that you were in first place. Everyone else had competed in one event already, so you knew it wasn’t just an accident. You were back. 

“Dude, are you crying?” TK nudged Kevin, who quickly wiped his tears. 

“No, but if I were, it’s a completely valid response to a time like this,” Kevin said quickly. 

What you hadn’t noticed from where you were was how much Joel had been watching you. Before your routine started, he couldn’t have been less interested, but once he saw you performing and the smile on your face after you finished your routine he was hooked. Everyone did take note of how much he was watching you, especially Karly. 

“And the story keeps developing,” she thought. 

With a good score on vault and on bars, you were still doing fine in the meet - it was you and Kathryn Davis for first and second, but this event would show who won all around. The only event that you had left was beam, you only hoped that your hesitation wasn’t as obvious as you felt. You obviously wouldn’t be doing the dismount, you were just going to do a double back that you had solid and weren’t afraid of doing. But even with that, you still had fears looming around a dismount you knew like the back of your hand. 

The fear that you had for beam was evident when you had a few too many wobbles - which made your score lower - luckily there were no falls, but it still affected your score. Even with a lower score you still beat Kathryn in All Around, but came third on beam. 

After awards and talks with media, you made your way back to the locker room to get your gym bag. “y/n, oh my god. Babes, you did amazing. I’m so proud of you,” Nicole came rushing in for a hug. 

“Thanks, Nic. I’m just glad to be back, winning was just a plus,” you said, smiling, “do you still plan on coming with me, Karly, and the guys if we go out to eat?” to which she simply nodded. The two of you made your way to the usual spot you met Kevin after a gymnastics meet. 

Eventually the group made their way over there, all of them quickly congratulating you. “y/n/n, I hope you know how proud I am of you right now,” Kevin said softly after hugging you, “you’ve come such a long way and you rocked it today.”

“KD is slowly approaching,” Nolan said. 

“y/n, omg, it was so cool competing against you. Sorry to have beat you on beam though, maybe if you tried your dismount you would have won,” she said, a fake smile on her face.

“Well, sweetie. You do know that’s just one event right? In everything else, I still beat you. Even when I hurt myself last year, I still somehow ended up with the gold, so you honestly have nothing to brag about,” you said, your fake smile matching hers.

“I see you brought your hockey players to help you out here, how nice of them.”

Everyone watched cautiously, Kevin ready to pull you back if he needed to; Nolan, TK, and Karly were all ready to jump in and help you fight; while Joel just stood there realizing how much he liked seeing you when you were mad. A lovely dynamic for today. 

“Hun, if anyone needs help, it’s you. Especially in the math department, apparently. But congrats on the one gold medal, you deserve it,” and with that you stepped away from her and towards the doors of the arena. 

Somehow Joel was the one that was walking closest to you, “hey, you ok?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. She just annoys me a lot, nothing crazy,” you shrugged. 

“You did good today. It’s crazy what you can do out there honestly,” he said genuinely. 

“Awe, Farabee, that’s so sweet. ”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get used to it, babe,” he said, slightly nudging you.

“Are you guys seeing this, too?” Karly asked the guys walking beside her, “like y/n and Bee? Or are your eyes not working today?”

“Maybe we shouldn’t have introduced the two?” Kevin says looking back towards you two just as you trip Farabee, “yeah, maybe not the wisest decision?” 

“Haha, suck on that on-,” your sentence interrupted as he pulled your shin to where you ended up on the ground of the parking lot beside him, “that was uncalled for, Bee.” 

“No, it was perfectly reasonable, you were rude to me earlier, so it’s payback.” 

“What the fuck is she doing on the ground?” Nicole asked as she caught up to the group, confused by your and Joel’s actions, to which everyone around her simply shrugged. 

…..

“There she is, the gymnastics superstar. How was the first night of the ‘y/n y/l/n Revenge Tour?” Adrian asked as you entered his office. 

“Eh, same old, same old. You win some and you lose some, and then people are extremely petty about the fact that they lost, so they bring up a traumatic injury that you hardly ever talk about while making fun of you losing an event, yada, yada, yada,” you smiled. 

“Didn’t really know all that, but I’m proud of you,” Adrian led you over to sit on the bench, so that he could check your knee, “your knee looks- why is there a phone number written on your shin?” 

“Ohhh, haha. About that. I forgot to wash it off,” you said simply. 

“Girl, I know there is way more to that story that you aren’t sharing. C’mon spill.” 

“Ok, well basically. Kevin brought one of his teammates to the game, and there’s this kinda like tension that’s there, but it’s not. So, I kinda tripped him in the parking lot to show that I’m so in love with him and he tripped me back, then we all went out to eat. We’re basically engaged now, we’ve already bought a house and a dog,” you said in a monotone voice. 

“Ok, enough with the attitude, I just asked about the boy. So, what’s his name?”

“Joel Farabee.”

“What’s your specific nickname for him?” Adrian placed some athletic tape below your knee, just as precaution.

“Bee, but he doesn’t have a specific one from me yet, we aren’t that close,” you jokingly rolled your eyes, “no, but he couldn’t find a blank piece of paper, so he just wrote his number on my shin.”

“Did he not see your arm? And have you texted him yet?” Adrian asked as you started with your daily drills, rolling his eyes when he saw you shake your head, “look, he’s a hockey player. I have dealt with a few of those. 7/10, might recommend. They’re interesting individuals, that’s all I can say. But you have to text him.”

“Ok, well read me the number and I’ll text him,” opening your phone, you pulled up your texts, “wait, what the fuck do I say?”

“Well, there’s this word in the English language that works as a simple greeting when you don’t know what else to say. A three letter word, pretty simple.”

“Adrian. I don’t need the attitude today, this is stressful enough,” you quickly typed up the message and practically threw your phone across the room right after, “there, I did it.”

“Did you just throw your phone?”

“Yep, but I texted him,” you said, holding two thumbs up.

“I didn’t realize how much you doing gymnastics your whole life influenced your social skills. My deepest condolences to you,” the both of you looked over towards where you threw your phone when you heard a notification go off, “you better check that before I do.”

“Okay, fine,” quickly grabbing your phone, answering quickly to which he responded just as fast, “he simply asked if I was going to be at Kevin’s later and if I wanted coffee, so, are we done here?”

“Mhm, get your coffee. And I expect updates.” 

As you were on the drive home, your phone started buzzing continuously, you realized that it was just Nicole, “hey, babes. What’s up?” 

“Have you checked twitter? Or instagram? Or anything?”

“No? I’ve been at P.T, why?”

“You’re not going to like what I’m about to say, so if you’re still in the car, I suggest pulling over for your own safety.”

You pulled into your apartment complex, “ok, I’m home. What’s up?”

“Just check Kathryn’s instagram, but apparently she’s been training her 3.5 dismount on beam for months and she has it now. She said she plans on competing it at the U.S. classic in May.” 

[hockeyisit]

It'll Be Okay.

Summary: Auston and Amelia talk to their son.

A.N: It’s at the end of the story. 

Word Count: 2,472

Masterlist

Auston and I were curled up on the couch as we watched a rerun of That 70s Show. His arm was wrapped around me with his feet stretched out on the coffee table. I leaned into his side turning my head to rest my chin on his chest.

“Are you ready to go up for bed?” I asked, feeling myself growing more tired by the minute. He looked away from the tv to look down at me. His expression softened as he took in my sleepy form.

“Yeah sure. You head up and I’ll be there in a minute,” he said pushing me gently to sit up. I pouted slightly upset he wasn't coming up yet but decided against saying anything. I leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the lips before making my way upstairs. I walked over to Kais bedroom first and knocked. I waited a moment for an answer but after none I knocked again.

“Kai I’m coming in,” I said pushing the door open, only once I was in his room he was nowhere to be found. Maybe he’s in Noah’s room I thought as I walked out of his room to Noah’s. I knocked before announcing that I was coming in. As I pushed the door open Noah was sitting at his desk working on homework.

“Where's your brother?” I asked once I noticed he was alone. Noah looked up from his textbook with an eyebrow raised.

“In his room,”

“Uh no he's not. Try again,” I said, putting my hand on my hip. He glanced at me, his expression radiating annoyance.

“Did you check the bathroom?” he sassed before holding his hands up defensively when I gave him a stern look.

“He’s not in the bathroom, the door was open,” I walked further into the room.

“Do you know where he is?” I asked again. Kai was never one to sneak out of the house; it was something we expected from Noah but never Kai. Noah nervously reached up to rub at the back of his neck.

“He didn’t tell me where he was going,” he finally answered. I ran my hand through my hair frustrated.

“But he isn’t here?” I asked for clarification. He nodded looking back down at his text book. I sighed as I turned to walk out of his room.

“Tell me if he texts you,” I called out softly as I closed his door. I peeked into Brody and Elsa’s room before heading to mine. I pushed the door open to see Auston sitting on the bed facing the wall.

“Kai snuck out,” I said, causing his head to snap to me.

“Are you serious?” He asked standing up and walking over to me. I sighed as I nodded pulling my phone out. I had made both of the boys share their location with me as part of a deal that they could have a later curfew after Noah's sneaking out got to be too much.

“He turned his location off,” I groaned, turning my phone to show Auston. He took it from my hand and looked at it before closing out of the app to pull up Kai’s contact. He hit call and put it on speaker. It dialled for a few moments before going to voicemail. He hit end call and tried again. When he didn’t answer on the second call I pulled my phone from Auston’s grip and sent him a text.

Where are you

Answer now!

“Does Noah know where he is?” he asked, running his hand through his hair. I shook my head no. Auston glanced at me before marching his way out of our room and over to Noah’s. I followed hot on his heels. He pushed Noah’s door open without knocking causing him to jump at his desk.

“Dude,” Noah whined looking at us. Auston gave him a look that shut him up quickly.

“Give me your phone,” Auston asked holding his hand out. Noah looked at him in disbelief as he held it.

“Why?” he asked.

“Noah,” Auston warned, his hand still held out. Noah reluctantly handed it over.

“What's your password?” he asked, Noah reached out and turned it to face him causing it to unlock.

“What are you doing?” he asked. I looked over Auston’s shoulder as he pulled up Kai’s contact and hit call putting it on speaker. He didn’t answer so Auston repeated the action thankfully on the second call his voice finally came through.

“Dude what do you want?” Kai’s voice rang through the phone breathless.

“Dude you're so grounded,” Auston responded. It was silent for a moment before he silently cursed.

“Get home now,” Auston said sternly, he ended the call and handed Noah his phone back before storming out of the room. The two of us watched as he left Noah looking at me concerned.

“Get some rest alright,” I said tapping his shoulder and then leaving him alone.

“Auston,” I called after his retreating figure. He stopped rather abruptly causing me to slightly run into him. His arms quickly reached out to steady us as he turned to face me.

“I’m just going to wait downstairs for him to get home,” he mumbled as he wrapped me up in a hug. I leaned my head against his chest as I hugged him back tightly.

“I’ll wait with you,” I pulled away and leaned up to peck his lips. I then pulled away completely and ran into our bedroom to grab a blanket before following Auston down the stairs.

“Okay are we playing good cop bad cop? Or are we going to just straight up ask if everythings alright? Is he grounded or?” I questioned once we were both cuddled up on the couch. Auston’s hand reached out to cover my mouth causing me to shut up and stare at him with innocent eyes.

“Shh babe, will just ask him why he needed to sneak out,” he said like it was as simple as that. I raised an eyebrow, which made him take his hand off my mouth quickly and send me an innocent smile of his own.

Around ten minutes later Kai walked into the house looking extremely nervous. He slipped his shoes off before turning around to face the two of us. Auston and I stared at him as he awkwardly stared back.

“Have a seat bud,” Auston finally said, breaking the silence. Kai made his way over and sat on the couch next to us.

“Am I in trouble?” he asked hesitantly.

“I guess that depends on if you can tell us where you were,” Auston responded, moving his arm that was wrapped around me.

“I can't tell you,” he responded looking away towards the ceiling. I held my breath as I turned my attention away from Kai to Auston. It wasn't like him to keep secrets from us.

“And why not? Was it anything illegal?” Auston asked impatiently. A panicked look crossed Kai’s face before he relaxed.

“It wasn't anything bad, I was just with a friend,” he said trying to reassure us.

“Who?” I asked leaning further into Auston. He glanced at me before turning back to Kai. We all sat in silence for another minute before Kai let out another long deep sign.

“I can't tell you,” he whispered, his right leg started shaking causing the couch to shake. I turned to give Auston a questioning look before turning back to Kai.

“And why not?” Auston asked confused.

“I’m bisexual,” he whispered after another few minutes of silence. My head snapped up to face Kia as I took in his words. I turned to Aston with a shocked expression. Out of all the things I thought Kai would say that was the furthest from what I actually thought he would say.

“What?” I asked leaning forward and out of Auston’s touch.

“I I uh, I’m Bi and I’m seeing a guy right now,” he stuttered out rubbing the back of his neck as he looked down at his lap. Auston’s grip had tightened around me but had slowly loosened as Kai talked to us.

“Oh my god,” I said as I covered my mouth in shock. Kai and Auston both turned to me looking nervous.

“What?” Kai asked leaning forward on the couch.

“Did we just force you to come out?” I asked, latching onto Auston’s leg in guilt. Kai looked at us in shock for a moment before shaking his head.

“No mom. I just haven’t really needed to tell you guys,” he admitted shrugging his shoulders. I glanced over to Auston hoping that I could get some type of reaction from him. He looked more shocked then I did but other than that he seemed fine.

“But now?” I asked.

“Now I do,” he glanced away from me to Auston, who had been quiet the whole time.

“I’ve been talking to someone and I really like them,” he looked down at his feet. “I can’t tell you who it is because they aren't out but,” he shrugged.

“I’m sorry I snuck out,” he finished.  Auston burst out laughing causing the two of us to look at him in shock.

“Dude,” I said, elbowing him harshly. Kai looked like he was seconds away from making a dash for it. Auston sobered up quickly as he rubbed his side.

“Sorry. I’m not laughing at you. I promise. Kai no matter who you like or fuck your mother and I are going to support you,” Auston said causing me to gasp loudly as I elbowed him again. Although I agreed with his words I wish he had been a little less vulgar.

“But kid sneak out again and you're grounded for the rest of your life. Also if you're willing to come out and he’s not then he’s not worth your time,” Auston told him gently.

“It’s complicated,” Kai said looking away. I stood up and made my way over to him so I could pull him into a hug.  

“Have you told Noah?” I asked, leaving my arm around him. He shook his head no.

“Nobody knows,” he glanced between the two of us.

“I do think you should consider telling Noah because he seemed pretty hurt that you snuck out without telling him,” Auston teased. I laughed lightly as I rubbed my arm up and down his back.

“I do want to tell people I’m just worried I guess,” he glanced down at his hands as he nervously fiddled with his bracelet.

“If I come out and if I make it to the MLB I’d be like the only out player. It would draw so much attention to me and I don’t really want to be known as the gay player. I also don’t want it to negatively affect Noah. If he gets interviewed theyll ask about what it's like-'' he ranted as he fiddled. Auston reached out and grabbed his hand.

“Kai, you're overthinking it. Yeah it might be scary to be one of the only out players but it’s scarier to live in fear. It’s important for you to be yourself and we live in a time where people are more accepting. I get that the lockerooms can still be rough,-” Auston griminaced slightly as he thought back to all the gay slur’s he had heard or laughed at back in the day.

“Be who you are. Your mother and I will unconditionally love you no matter what,” he trailed off. Kai’s eyes filled with tears slightly, he tried to hide it by looking away. I reached out for his other hand.

“Papi’s right,” I squeezed his hand.

“I know that the locker rooms can be really bad sometimes but the leagues are all truly more accepting and we live in a generation now that is trying to change. I’m sorry if coming out to us was scary for you. I truly hope Papi and I haven't ever said anything to make you feel scared to tell us.”

“No mom it wasn't anything like that I promise,” he glanced up at me trying to reassure me. As I went to say more we heard the sound of the stairs creaking. Noah casually making his way down the stairs only to stop abruptly when he saw the scene in front of him. I shared a quick look with Kai and he gave us a nod. I dropped his hand and stood up Auston doing the same. Kai stood up as well.

“Alright will talk more tomorrow. You boys get to bed soon you have school in the morning,” I warned them. They both nodded

“Love you guys,” I told them and pulled Kai into a quick hug before doing the same with Noah. Auston and I quickly made our escape upstairs. I pushed our bedroom door open and Auston closed it behind him. He reached out for me and pulled me into a tight hug. I let out a soft sigh as I wrapped my arms around him.

“What a night,” I laughed lightly as I pulled away to look at his face. Auston sent me a small smirk as he nodded.

“Yeah for real,” he looked like he was in deep thought so I pulled away to go brush my teeth and get ready for bed.

“Do you think I should make like a big breakfast or something tomorrow?” I asked after the silence went on for a little too long. Auston looked up from his phone with a small frown.

“No,” he mumbled. I frowned as I made my way over to him. He was being more moody than usual.

“What’s wrong?” I sat next to him on the bed causing him to lock his phone.

“I feel like I should have known and I didn’t mean to laugh,” he mumbled as he laid down on the bed. He moved his arm to rest over his face as he thought back to just a few moments ago. His shirt rode up slightly. I reached out and placed my hand on his chest as I leaned closer. I knew that if I didn't say anything it would force Auston to keep talking.

“He looked two seconds away from bursting into tears when I started laughing and I feel really bad,” he continued.

“Babe he was just shocked. You said all the right things and he knows that you are supportive. He knows we love him,” I schooced closer so I could rest my head on his chest causing him to move his arm from his face to around me.

“I’ll make breakfast in the morning,” Auston mumbled. I grinned up at him as he leaned forward to connect our lips.

“Yay,” I said softly as I started to doze off in his arms.

“Love you.”

A.N Hello! Here's just a quick little glimpse into the future of Auston and Amelia! Hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did. Another thing I want to say is that I myself am bisexual and for a really long time I wanted to make Amelia bisexual because of that but I was never to sure what to do with that because I know a lot of my readers may not be bisexual themselves. So I came up with the idea of one of the twins being bi almost immediately. Anyway I hope it was something yall enjoyed reading. I love hearing your feedback and questions so don't be afraid to send them in! Also thank you so much for all the support I have received in these past few months you guys have really helped me through a really hard semester.

[imaginesbymk]

“Find Me Under The Giant Rabbit.”

Reservoir Dogs/Pulp Fiction One Shot

SUMMARY: I read a Reddit fan theory that Mr. Pink survived, escaped the cops, got arrested and was then put on parole - leaving behind his old life and lying low as a waiter at Jack Rabbit Slims. What happens when you show up to the restaurant one night?

PAIRING: Mr. Pink/Buddy Holly waiter x Reader

TAGS: swearing, smoking + mentions of basically everything that happened in reservoir dogs which is the heist, violence, etc

NON REQUESTED

WORD COUNT: 2,870 (it’s long i’m sorry)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is probably the cheesiest thing i’ve ever written, and it’s nothing tarantino would ever put in his films, also there’s no way PF and RS can legitimately tie in together 100% even though there are some factors to support otherwise, but i wanted to write this and see something lol :( leave a like/reblog + feedback!!!

[gif credit]

YOU put your car in park, shutting off the engine, and observed it from afar. It was one hell of a big restaurant, almost a bit too cartoon-like. There was a giant anthropomorphic rabbit on top, and the lights claiming the name were glowing a bright red and yellow. Mind you, this was in Los Angeles, so who wouldn’t blame you if you took one look at Jack Rabbit Slim’s, and mistake it for a restaurant at Six Flags? 

Dozens of bikers came in with their motorcycles, yet their engines couldn’t even overpower the chatter coming from newcomers left and right. You ignored a heavy tattooed biker dressed in all leather and denim catcalling you from afar, and you reached the front desk. 

A man dressed in uniform, most definitely in character, tipped his hat at you and led you to a table with only two chairs. You weren’t expecting anyone to join you in the other seat across. So what if you went for dinner by yourself? You didn’t bother asking anyone to join you for that matter. Not anyone you could think of at the top of your head would be any less boring.

You began tracing your fingers around the rim of the ketchup bottle when not even five seconds after sitting down, a lady approached your table with ruby red lips. 

Of course, you thought. Servers were dressed up as icons from the 50s era.

“Marilyn,” you say in awe.

“Close enough,” Instead of being seated in the Marilyn Monroe section being served by a Marilyn Monroe-looking Marilyn Monroe, you were greeted with a tall Mamie Van Doren, who is just as breathtaking as Marilyn refilling everyone’s coffee mugs from the other side of the restaurant. “How about I get you started with drinks?”

Ricky Nelson’s performance on stage came to an end when Mamie arrived with your food. You looked around the place while eating. People weren’t eating by themselves. Families, friends, dates, all of them occupied their seats. Now that you’ve noticed, you sort of wished you brought someone with you, otherwise the seat across from you is used as a footrest. 

So there, you propped your feet on top, and relaxed… then you sat upright. Your eyes fixated on the waiter in his section, which were the cars back in the 50s used as booths. You watch him walk towards one of them. The couple was a young woman in a blunt bob cut with bangs, and a man wearing a black suit with long black hair tied back.

You squint your eyes. It couldn’t be...

“Hi, I’m Buddy. What can I get ya?”

You blinked, dropping the half bitten French fry from your mouth. Holy fucking shit.

It was all coming back to you. The news broke out about the heist going wrong at the wholesale, all dead except for one, a cop who laid dead on the ramp inside the rendezvous was identified as Mr. Orange. Since he wasn’t supposed to know where you were from, Mr. Pink never turned up to your door as an emergency hideout, or to drag you with him on his getaway because he never had one. You never heard of him ever since. 

Here he was, Mr. Pink, alive and well, wearing glasses. What the hell happened? How long has he been working here? Is he supposed to be Buddy Holly?

“How do you want that cooked? Burnt to a crisp or bloody as hell?” you hear him ask the man in the suit who ordered a steak.

“Bloody as hell, and oh, yeah, look at this- vanilla coke.”

You noticed the irony. He left you in a black suit - and he comes back in white. Like he’d ever want to be caught dead in white, or pink.

“What about you, Peggy Sue?” he asks the woman, jotting in his notepad. You recognized the pun.

“I’ll have the Durwood Kirby burger, bloody. And… the five dollar shake.”

Were you about to laugh? Call out his name? That was enough for you to get antsy in your seat, but you didn’t want to draw attention. You saw him again while finishing up half of your meal, giving the couple their drinks and disappearing back into the kitchen. He was doing his job, but it wasn’t like he was giving his one hundred percent. For someone who preached to the Gods about professionalism, Mr. Pink sure lacked work ethic. Every employee was on point with their character impersonations as if you had travelled back in time. Meanwhile, he acted like himself and seemed bored while wearing an emotionless face, as if he hated his job and epitome of his existence. It was never a dull moment for him whenever he was with you, though.

You got up to use the restroom.

“We’re lucky we got anything at all. I don’t think Buddy Holly’s much of a waiter,” you heard the man at the booth tell the woman as you walk past them, spotting their food from the corner of your eye. It’s no surprise hearing that. Mr. Pink never looked like the type to work at a job like this.

You sat back down and soon, Mr. Pink reappeared, standing over to the side and watched the announcement of the twisting contest, smoking a cigarette. You see him eyeing two pretty blonde women walking past him, and he looked back his way, now in your direction.

He finally did what you wanted him to do, and he stares at you for nearly a solid minute.

You waved awkwardly. 

Mr. Pink tosses the cigarette in a random person’s ashtray and disappears behind the door once again. You darted out of your chair, and marched your way to where he headed, just as the couple he served got up on stage to participate in the twisting contest.

A Zorro waiter jumps in front of you. “Stop right there, mi amor!” his eyes darted at you through the cheap black mask he was wearing. “I believe the bathroom’s on the other side of the bar.”

“Where’s Buddy?” you ask Zorro.

“I’m afraid Mr. Holly is taking a quick break from unenthusiastically serving love birds in their cars.”

“Can you tell him I’m looking for him?”

“Once I see him.” Zorro then took out his sword and pointed it at you, a grin plastered on his face. “Now, shall I escort you back to your dining spot?”

Although you were aware this guy was only in character, you didn’t wanna risk getting kicked out, or having a realistic looking sword ripped through your body. You sighed and turned around, heading back. You noticed at your table a folded napkin beside your empty plate. Mamie Van Doren was last seen there, her back facing you with her heels clicking away on the tiles.

“Excuse me!” you called after the waitress. She ignores you, smiling down at new customers at an umbrella table.

Cocking an eyebrow, you used your finger to flatten the crease and read the note in bold handwriting.

FIND ME UNDER THE GIANT RABBIT. - BUDDY 

You threw the door open and ran outside, precisely under the giant rabbit of the Jack Rabbit Slim’s sign, just like he said on the napkin. You felt like an idiot checking every direction to find no one. Not a lot of the bikers were seen riding or hanging out around the parking lot, some people were coming and going, but you couldn’t find Buddy Holly.

Defeated, you turn to walk back inside. 

Mr. Pink rushed out the door and caught his breath. It looked like he was chasing you down before you could take off. A song used for the twisting contest kept playing from inside.

You didn’t run up to him and jumped in his arms or anything dramatic in that matter. You both stared at each other.

A few days before the heist you two stood across each other waiting for Mr. Brown and Mr. White inside the hideout. It was a quiet moment, not an awkward one. He just took that opportunity to study you, as you did him. It took him that moment to realize he was warming up to you. 

“Well hello there, Buddy,” you smile smugly.

YOU and Pink loitered at the side of the eatery, where the back door to the kitchen was located. He had taken off his fake glasses, showing his full frame.

“Okay,” you watch him lean against the wall, lighting his cigarette. “Talk to me. What happened to you?”

“What the hell do you think? Cops tagged me when I tried driving away. I was put behind bars, and by some fucking miracle this place took me in when I needed money.”

“You didn’t know any other crime bosses looking for a lanky dude?” Pink rolls his eyes at your joke. “I know the heist went terribly wrong, I saw the news. Everyone’s dead as Dillinger.”

“That briefcase had a shit load of two million dollars worth of stones,” Pink blew smoke out. “I swear, if that asshole undercover cop was never sent to set us up, I could have been enjoying a cocktail in Santorini. You’re lucky you called in sick that day.”

You shuddered, remembering how god-awful the illness was. “Never again. I felt like I was being hot glued to a sauna.”

You remembered the day of the heist. In fact, you mentally prepared yourself for something that you’ve never done before. You braced for what was supposed to go smoothly as Joe promised. Instead, you were woken up by the worst case scenario above 38 degrees. You were thankful Joe took it easy on you and promised another job next time. 

“All right, your turn. What did you do after that shit show went down?” Pink asks you.

“Just did my own thing. I wasn’t there so the cops never searched for me.” Pink took a slow drag, staring at nothing. He didn’t really look the same as before. Still lanky, except his hair was a bit more darkened and styled in curls, possibly because Buddy Holly had it permed that way. But his face read that he had been through a lot. Normally you felt zero pity for assholes like him, but you managed to blurt out, “I missed you.”

Pink, blowing out smoke in the air, eyed you up and down and furrowed his brows. “Likewise.”

Not only did it suck not being able to make money, you also couldn’t do it with Mr. Pink. As much as he kept his professionalism to a T, he squeezed in time to get along with you. It was no wonder Joe hired you - you were different than the guys, you moved differently and never felt small. Mr. Pink was drawn to that. 

Maybe that was just an understatement. He grew intimidated by something he expected to experience the least from in the job, and of course, straight out of a fairytale, you had to stop and ask yourself if you felt the same way, and if what you felt was right. Neither of you had any idea. It was against the rules to give out personal information to each other, and Mr. Pink took those rules very seriously, even if it was just one job that he most likely wouldn’t come back to unless a higher pay was involved and Joe Cabot liked him enough to recruit him again. 

If Mr. Pink grew too attached, if he let his guard down for one second, God forbid something would have happened to you. Without a doubt, he would have heavily blamed himself and walked away from the job without saying another word. 

His options were to wait until after the robbery to make a move, or do his job, get paid and leave. Whether or not it was out of selfishness was out of the question. Mr. Pink is already selfish in an intuitive kind of way, he’d rather avoid spiraling into a wave of emotions for one person - so he chose the latter.

“What?” Pink looked at you, feeling a bit tense. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Huh? No. It’s nothing,” you blinked, realizing you were staring at him longer than you should have. You shook your head, most likely shaking off the intrusive thoughts. Maybe this wasn’t a good time to tell him what’s on your mind. 

If anything, he’s most likely sleeping with the Marilyn Monroe waitress. “It’s just… you shaved the goatee.”

Pink nodded, looking a bit annoyed that there was no facial hair left on his chin to rub. “Buddy Holly had a clean face. For the record, the only advantage of this job is that I’m under disguise. Other than that, this place is a circus. I’m zooming back in time whenever I clock in.”

“It’s a 50s themed restaurant,” you state. “Working here sounds like fun. At least you get to dress up and experience pop culture.”

He scoffs. “No, fuck the 50s. Shit was all I Love Lucy and those puffy ass dresses.”

“They’re called poodle skirts, Pink.”

“Like I give a fuck what they’re called.”

“You know Buddy Holly smiled. He was a singer and a guitarist. If you keep up the attitude, no one’s gonna tip you. Nice Guy Eddie told me about your rant on tipping.”

“Ha! And? You will never find me up on that stage performing That’ll Be The Day, moving like a fucking animatronic.” Halfway finished, Pink tossed his cigarette aside and looked at you. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

You felt your cheeks flushing. Fuck. “I am?”

He nodded, putting his Buddy Holly glasses back on his face. “Yeah. It’s a breath of fresh air seeing you here.” He stares down at his wristwatch for a moment.

“Your break’s done?”

“It’s been done,” he says. “Fifteen minutes ago.”

You shook your head, chuckling. “You’re so fired.”

“This isn’t the first time I stopped caring, so my boss isn’t gonna bat an eye.” He had his hand wrapped around the back door which was supported by a wooden block to keep it open. “Look, I’ll see ya arou-”

“Pink?” Your heart rose up to your throat.

He turned back to you. “Hm?” 

You just had to do it. You reached up and kissed him softly. Pink didn’t shove or curse at you. His features softened, pulling you close to him and kissed you deeply. Even when you two pulled away, his arms didn’t unwrap from your waist. His forehead was pressed against yours now.

“My name’s Y/N,” you tell him.

He stares at you, no snarky, sarcastic comment left for him to give.

“I know you’re not willing to give your name up just yet, you can’t fully trust me, and I get that, but I won’t tell anyone what happened. You got lucky, I think… but I’m really glad you’re okay.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I’m serious.”

“Y/N,” he says your name for the first time. “You don’t have to go all sappy for me. Karma came in hot. Jesus Christ, I mean, I left you.”

“Not really. You didn’t know me. The cops had the place staked out the entire day, there was nothing you could do.”

He looked down at his shoes. “All right. But still, I feel shitty. Can I at least make it up to you?”

“How?”

Pink shrugs. “I get paid tomorrow.”

“Good for you,” you reply. “Save it like you’re gonna lose it.”

“I’ve had this job for a while now, I got enough to last. But once I win the lottery, I’m gone.”

“To Santorini?”

“With a cocktail in my hand. But that’s besides the point, right now I got enough to take you out on a date… if you’re down.”

“Where would you plan on taking me? Here?” you laugh.

“You’re funny. How about the movies? Overruled, I’m taking you to see a movie. I gotta know where you live first. It’s okay to know now.”

You nodded, you couldn't argue with that. Besides, you two would just be making out in the dark the entire time.

His hand was back on the handle of the back door. Pink pulled it open, looked back at you and smiled for the first time tonight. That warmed your heart, and you were certain it warmed his. He watched you stuff something inside his pocket square as you told him your address. He went back inside, shutting the door on you. You walked back to the front of the restaurant to pay for the bill, and went straight home. 

Mr. Pink shuffles past the chefs in the kitchen, feeling through his suit pocket to pull out his notepad and whatever you stuffed inside just moments ago.

I didn’t even serve them. Is this supposed to be for Mamie Van Doren? He stares down at the dollar bill crumpled in his hand. His frown suddenly transitions to a small but genuine smile. 

Fuck it. Nothing could stop him now. He definitely owes you a date night. He quickly stuffs the tip back in his pocket square, and comes out the sliding door. 

THE END

—

TAGLIST: @locke-writes​ @aryn-the-bearheart​

[ubemango]

one time, in your room (m)

note: I wrote this after receiving such an enthusiastic response to my virgin!jk drabbles. I really can’t thank you guys enough for expressing interest in this story, it really helped jumpstart lunyua lol 😭😭🥰🥰!!!!!!! I’m happy she’s back:) I would be absolutely nowhere without it heheh. My thank yous are also due to Violet and my crème de la crème for helping me write this back in March--I love you both very, very much!!!!!! Enjoy :D

DISCLAIMER. there’s one scene based off a tweet that I can’t find the link to lol... it’s about getting fingered till u cry. You’ll know when you get there 😭

PAIRING. jeongguk/reader GENRE. romance, college au RATED. M WORD COUNT. 17.3k WARNINGS. alcohol, oral (f receiving), cum shot, fingering, sexting, phone sex/masturbation, face sitting, riding, talks about Babies, jk loving oc A Lot SUMMARY. There are papers to write, and virgins to daydream about. (You can think about Jeongguk’s dick later.)

                                          part 1: emergency tactics

It started five months in.

Jimin probably didn’t mean anything by it. There’s talk and then there’s inebriation, and Jimin slurred roughly between the two like the drunkard he is. But Jeongguk was still hurt and you didn’t know what to do.

“He called me a pussy then told me to fuck one instead,” Jeongguk said under the strobe lights, the plastic ones you buy at the dollar store and you know it’s Hoseok who got them because he’s frugal, not cheap. The couch was itchy under your skirt. “Am I—is it really that bad? Like am I doing this wrong? Am I taking too long, or—”

“No, oh my god. Babe,” you said, and the cooler in your hand found the floor before you cupped his face. He was pouting. “Doing things—like that—it’s—it shouldn’t be something you stress over, okay? Don’t listen to other people. I like you. And Jimin is a whore.”

Jeongguk snorted. You could still see the doubt in his eyes, though. Shiny because he’s tipsy, but that downward droop still there. “You’re the best,” he said as sincere as he could sound.

And he’d left it at that. He got way more drunk though, definitely influenced by his post-teen-pre-adult angst but what’s a 21-year-old supposed to do with ample service of alcohol and an aching heart? You’d left him to it and cleaned the vomit on his shirt after. It was an okay party.

It stayed okay for a bit, too. Jeongguk isn’t an insecure person, but his bouts of uncertainty were getting more and more frequent. Especially when all his friends were naturally horny and really fucking stupid.

“So you’ve been dating for almost eight months and you—still haven’t defiled him,” Jimin says, now absolutely sober and still absolutely dumb.

You can feel Jeongguk’s ears heat up. “Dude.”

Jimin ignores him and turns to you. “Aren’t you like—bored?”

“When will you stop talking,” Jeongguk murmurs through a bite of his burrito bowl.

“I’m not,” you answer Jimin, flipping through another page of a study on birth control. A convoluted piece of shit, as Taehyung put so eloquently, but he left a couple minutes ago for a study group. “And stop bullying him.”

“I’m just shocked,” Jimin continues. “How does someone so hot end up with someone even hotter and like—not immediately participate in procreation. This is a crime!”

“Look.” Your textbook flips closed. “I don’t know what your obsession is with this guy’s dick over here, but it’s mine to worry about.”

“I think you upset her,” Jeongguk says.

“I know what it’s like to be pressured into sex,” you say. You feel Jimin lock up. “Look—sorry, that was baggage and I’m stressed.” Jimin nods. “But seriously? It’s—he’s—Jeongguk’s fine the way he is, alright?”

You taper off. It’s silent save for the milling of other students in the quad, but the air is thick. Sliced through with your anger but you’d rather have this conversation in private, without Jimin and his probing. Unnerving Jeongguk was like lighting the fuse in you, and maybe it was the instinct to preserve whatever purity Jimin keeps insisting on but you’ve never seen your boyfriend so upset about something. It kind of hurt to see him like this.

You get back to taking notes when Jimin talks again. “I’ll go,” he says. “Jeongguk I—”

“It’s fine.” Doesn’t sound like it though because he’s tight-lipped. 

Jimin salutes and sidles away. A bubble of unfinished conversations swells around you.

“Thanks for—that, I guess,” he says.

Your highlighter squeaks against the paper. “Jeongguk.”

“M’yeah?”

“Do you want to have sex with me?”

Maybe that was a bad start because Jeongguk sputters. You think he squawks, too—and he’s definitely fidgeting, lots of cut-off noises in his throat as he tries to say anything coherent. You look at him and he finally takes a breath in. “I—”

“You’re worried.”

His face contorts in confusion. “About what?”

“I don’t know. But I can feel it.”

“Same wavelength,” he laughs. Empty but he knows you’re just trying to help.

“Look.” He doesn’t but that’s because you’ve turned back to your books. “We have sex when we have sex. And if someone tries to—bother you about it, you can tell them they can suck on my fat cock.”

You hear him chortle. “I’ll do that.”

The conversation ends. You study. You still feel Jeongguk fidgeting.

Now there’s three weeks left till the term is over.  

“My—brain. It’s exploding. There’s too much going on.”

Jeongguk’s desk is a cramped space—the only place you can prop your textbook up against is his sweatshirt wrapped into a wrinkly ball. Graciously taken from his hamper because he still hasn’t done his laundry. The chair creaks when you spin to look at him: a dejected blob of comfy clothes surrounded by looseleaf paper and sticky notes. “Break time?”

He slumps against his pillows, arms out like a sad toddler. “Break time.”

This probably means you’ll cuddle for the next three hours but there’s little to complain about when Jeongguk purrs into your hair once you settle into his chest. There’s a warmth to him you can’t get anywhere else. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he huffs. “Just working too hard.”

“Okay,” you murmur. Jeongguk’s breath evens out the way it does when he wants to stop thinking. You can hear the hum of the fridge outside. 

“Want this to be over.”

You trace your nail over his collarbone. “I know.” 

“When’s your awards ceremony?”

“In two weeks,” you say.

“Same time as our final game.”

You lean your head up when he sighs, watching his eyes flutter in the afternoon shade of his curtains. A calmer period right after a hectic schedule of school, because you have Professor Kwon to thank for her excessive meetings about tutorials and assignments. It never occurred to you that you might’ve been imposing when you showed up to Jeongguk’s dorm with your homework, but he’d been studying too. Same wavelength, he’d say.

“Jimin been bothering you lately?”

“No, thank god. Don’t think I could take anymore prodding.”

This is the first time you’ve asked since that afternoon in the quad, though now Jimin’s been less annoying whenever you see him with Jeongguk. You know he’s just itching for your boyfriend to finally get his dick wet. 

And you can’t blame him—that was his intention when he finally got Jeongguk to ask you out. Friendship with Jeongguk was a weird stretch of time, especially when he’d spent the entirety of it silently pining for you: involuntarily single, but so preoccupied with the care and keeping of your GPA you’d been blind to any advance. Not that he tried anything, though. 

He’d been in his second year, still getting used to the enormity of campus grounds as a scholarship-bound athlete. And on top of all his schoolwork he had to balance the fragility of having a crush on an upperclassman well on her way to PhD candidacy. It was a good thing he was cute, though, and Jimin had no qualms about embarrassing Jeongguk any chance he got when you were around. The blush when Jimin had pushed him to your desserts table at one of the indoor Farmers’ Markets still burns in the furthest love-lit corner in your mind.

“You remember when you asked me out?”

“God.” A too-late night in the library that prompted the chivalrous part in Jeongguk because he’d brought you to the bus stop too close for campus police to escort you. You’d been good friends for a while already, the hurdle of skirting around each other knocked down when Jeongguk finally got the guts to insert himself in the your friend circle. In that wet shelter, a quivering lip. The sure that now has you seven-and-a-half months down the line with arguably the best thing that’s happened to you since you started your college career, but you won’t tell him that. “Why are you bringing that up?”

“I don’t know. Just—feels like forever ago.”

“Sappy.”

“Maybe the stars are aligning,” you say.

“Is that a good thing?”

“I don’t know, just. Sometimes when I lie down with you I feel like I have to—lay myself bare.”

“Then bare yourself.”

You pause. “I’d like to suck your dick.”

“I’m gonna—I’m gonna need you to elaborate,” Jeongguk says like he’s winded.

“Two weeks of me finishing assignments and you at hockey practice. You know. Take advantage of the time we have with each other.”

“Good point. But I have a counter offer.”

Jeongguk is always a giver. “Which is?”

“I eat you out instead.”

“You’re too good to me,” and this is the only response you can come up with without sounding too shocked. Or horny. Not that you’d ever shy away but Jeongguk had a way of burning you up from the inside. “You’re down for that?”

“Always,” he says, then rolls you over. All that muscle from his workouts barring you from even thinking about fighting him back so you let him push you till you’re comfortable. But this isn’t about you. Not at the moment, anyway. 

“Take your shirt off.” Jeongguk does this so quickly his face almost crashes into yours when he comes back down, gasping a laugh that he breathes into you when his mouth meets yours. A quick tangle of your legs around his waist has him lying over you with ease, caught in his cage of pressed-down elbows and intimacy. 

“Wanna—take care of you.” He trails his mouth down your neck, bed squeaking when his knees pad down. Lips tasting lower and now he lifts your shirt up to your chest, pressing wetness to your stomach and you’re quick to discard your clothing if only to see Jeongguk pause at the zipper of your jeans. “Can I—?”

You nod. 

His fingers don’t shake but he’s blinking fast, pulling on the waistline of the rough denim and shucking it past your feet, sighing when your panties come into view. A short-lived reverence when he leans down to mouth at your sex above the thin cotton and your legs spread wide for his arms to cling onto.

“Tell me—tell me what you like,” he says. A shy demand.

“Take my underwear off then I’ll tell you.”

There’s warmth lost when Jeongguk slides your panties down to one ankle but he’s over you in the second it takes for you to flick it off. No pause in his eagerness but now he lies in wait for your instructions. The way he pauses for you is so agonizingly hot you might combust.

“It’s—I like it when… I feel you lick at my…” God you sound fucked. But Jeongguk’s a wild card and takes it in stride, hands once again finding purchase around your thighs and you feel his hard tongue on you, a wet slide that has your stomach caving. It’s the natural twitch in your fingers that prompt you to keep a loose grip in his hair, other hand tight in the bed like your proxy anchor. “Oh. Yeah. Yeah…”

Jeongguk laves your core, pressing harder the higher he goes. Contingency he takes advantage of because you get louder. It’s the lick on your clit that has you sighing. “Oooh, you—use the… tip of your tongue. And lick right—there.”

He’s so pliant you feel like you’re throttling him. There’s a forward insistence of his head until you feel the flat of his tongue pressed fully against you, his neck rolling with every shift of your hips. In control of your pleasure and he makes it feel like this is what he was made to do. His fingers get tight. “You taste good,” he exhales right onto your sex and you nearly crush his head with your thighs.

“Oh my god.” Your breaths are lost. You might hide your face but that would mean losing sight of Jeongguk providing a service only he can spell out with his tongue. “Ah—”

There’s a little squeak further down the bed and you notice the small flutter of his groin caught in the warmth of him and the sheets. His lips close around your nub before you can say anything, slurping that has your gut wrangled, your fingers gripping his hair as you get lost in his love. Your eyes roll back. “Oh fuck, that—agh—”

He’s made you come before. And the familiar tone of your incoming bliss is something he can memorize—he probably already has judging by the train wreck of your throat and the sounds he pulls from you. A swindler of your orgasms but you’d gladly hand yourself over if it meant deceiving your pussy into its own demise.

“Fuck you’re—so sexy like this,” Jeongguk mumbles. You whine at his attention but now you’re running even hotter than ever.

You’re not even telling him what to do anymore but you know he knows it’s good, a message sent with every twitch of your sex into his mouth and now his fingers are splayed along your pelvis to keep you from bucking up. He doesn’t even need his fingers. It’s the hardened tongue, the little slashes on your clit as his head swings back and forth that have you squealing: “Yes, like that. Oh I’m cumming—fuck—!”

Jeongguk hums when you jerk your hips up, convulsions in all your sweetest parts and your throat is dry from all your moaning, the swell of your lungs so hard to keep up with but he always has you losing your breath. Spit collects in its warmth down your ass but it’s a lost thought when Jeongguk lathers you into your come-down, legs like jelly and he helps your knees together when you finally stop trembling. You don’t realize your eyes are closed until you feel his lips on your mouth, complaint of catching a break right behind your teeth when you kiss with what little strength remains in you. 

“That was. Really good,” you whisper. Jeongguk laughs. And he doesn’t say anything, just looks at you with his wet mouth and red cheeks. “Do you wanna cum?”

He looks like he’ll say no. A bitten lip instead of confirmation. “I—”

“Please, I want you to.” Like a switch turned on he lights up, head bobbing and now he’s shoving his jeans past his ass, underwear down too. “You wanna—come on my face?”

His eyes look like they’re leaking out of his face. A strangled noise escapes his throat. He probably thinks you’re on crack but it’s just in his nature for him to assume a dazed auto-pilot whenever you say shit so outlandish. “You—I—I-I—Can—?”

“You can cum—god you can cum anywhere. I’m yours. Remember?” Reaching behind, you feel for the clasp of your bra, flinging it off before you pull on Jeongguk by the dip of his back until his knees straddle your ribs. “Is this good?”

“Can—could you—spit… on it.” His voice dwindles like he’s caught between the threshold of dirty and pushing it. You don’t answer because your neck straining for the tip of his dick and down the rest of his shaft is all he needs for one. Jeongguk bucks into you. “Oh fuck—ngh—ah!”

If his grinding on the mattress was a ticking bomb, your tongue on his cock is the thirty seconds till detonation. And by the sounds of Jeongguk groaning into the mid-afternoon sun slipping through his curtains you know he’s almost there. “Lie down, lie down,” he instructs, hand replacing your mouth in a stroke so quick you’re scared he might get cum in your hair.

“Agh—fuck yeah I’m—”

A spurt of his cum stains your lip, then your cheek. You feel some on the tip of your nose too but Jeongguk points his dick down to your tits, spilling all his hot frustration on your even hotter skin and you might cum again from the visual of him looking so spent. “Wow.”

“Yeah, that—” Jeongguk swallows twice— “I… wow.”

His dick is getting soft. There’s sweat pooling where your body meets the sheets. “Wanna pass me tissues?”

“Oh fuck. Yeah, yeah—here, sorry.” Jeongguk makes soft passes with a wad of cotton over your chest, handing one to you for your face. “Do you—do you like it? When I… cum on you?”

“Yeah.” You think about making a weird comment about sipping on his juice but you’ll save it for later. You focus on not letting his spunk flake on your cheek. “It’s hot. Really.”

“Good,” he says. Flopping down after shooting the soiled tissue into the basket and now he seems exhausted. “Do you feel gross or is it just me.”

“Gross how?”

“Gross like I need a shower.”

You can’t deny him. “Wanna shower?”

“Yep,” he says with no hesitation, and he doesn’t let you say anything else when he grabs you by your wrists. Somehow, everything feels lighter.

Sometimes Jeongguk invites you out to practice. It’s boring and you don’t know a single rule about gameplay, but the presence of him despite being a ways away on the ice is still a comfort on its own. 

The arena is frigidly cold, and while you aren’t without distraction (re: Assignments) it’s still one you can barely get yourself to really focus on. You rub your face in frustration. You hear the sound of the hockey puck passed around in harsh slaps.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

“Jimin,” you acknowledge. He drops down next to you. “Here to spy on hockey ass too, huh.”

“That and Hoseok promised to get me dinner later.” You raise your eyebrow. “Did one of his assignments.”

“Forgot you were a chemistry genius.” Clicking your tongue, you watch the big 97 of Jeongguk’s jersey as he glides around behind the glass. He waves when he sees you looking. You’d greet him back but your hands are too perfect where they are in the heat of your sweater pockets so you wave your head in what you hope looks like excitement. 

“Been holding up okay?” You turn. Jimin’s eyes are a blaze of concern. “The other week, in the quad. You were pretty stressed.”

“Final paper.”

“Dissertation?”

“Working up to that,” you say.

“So you’re a scholar scholar.”

“Mm.” Your laptop screen blinks to black. “Something like that.” You hear Jimin snicker. He’s coiled up, stomach caved in a tiny laugh, eyes crinkled. Too amused. “What?”

“I’m just—” Jimin takes a breath in to stem his impending laughing fit— “so confused. Like, there’s Jeongguk who can eat eight cups of spicy ramen and literally bomb the bathroom with his shit—and then right next to him is Jane Goodall but with human babies.”

“He loves spicy ramen,” you comment.

“Yeah but do we like his stank? Nope. And you really just compared pronatalism to liking ramen. You know you’re out of his league.”

Jeongguk, completely oblivious to Jimin’s really weird anecdote, brings a fist up in cheers when he shoots the puck into the net. “Well. At the very least he’s cute.”

Jimin heeds with a hum to watch the play on ice. Seeing the team skate around with their broad-shoulders and thick helmets is an odd kind of relaxation. A team of huge men cutting the ice with knives on their feet but the sound is a swish satisfying enough for those kinds of videos that put you to sleep. Rough and gentle, just like Jeongguk. “I’m glad Jeongguk met you,” Jimin starts again.

“Mm. I think he has you to thank.” You boot up your laptop once more in the hopes you get inspired to type, but now Jimin has you distracted even more. 

“He just… used to be so quiet. And I’m gonna brag here but he’s got good friends. But meeting you was a game-changer.”

“Hm.”

“He was so passive.” You think to Jimin almost two years ago, pushing a slightly-smaller Jeongguk towards your table at the market. One look in your eye; pointing to the donut closest to him. Your finger touched his palm when you dropped the chocolate-glazed on it and he looked lost. “But now he’s just. Happy. All the time. It’s nice to see.”

There’s 97 again. Then Jeongguk turns and glides closer to the rail. He holds up ten fingers. Ten till over. You give a thumbs up. You feel yourself shivering but you’re not cold anymore. “Then I’m glad, too.”

“Good kid.” Jimin waves too, and Jeongguk skates off without looking at him. “Bitch! Anyway.” He leans back on his hands, feet perched on the row in front. “You guys… good now?”

And your screen fades to black again. “Oh god.”

“Sorry, fuck. Sometimes I think—no sometimes I don’t think. Sorry.”

“It’s fine, whatever.” You turn to Jimin looking very apologetic, keeping mum with his lips folded in. “It’s—he’s. A lot more eager, I have to say.”

“And are you okay with that?”

You hesitate. “I mean if we’re getting vulgar here—”

“Absolutely not, you are not telling me what he did with his dick.”

You raise your hands in surrender. You wouldn’t have told him anyway. It’s just nice to see a flustered Jimin, especially after what he’s subjected you and Jeongguk to. Good-natured but overtly so, and now you’re both blushing. “It’s been good.” 

Great. Now you’re thinking about Jeongguk and his cock again. Obviously it’s not unwelcome but riling you up is getting too easy.

“Then that’s good,” Jimin says. You hear the blow of the whistle. A congregation of fist bumps forms at the exit of the rink, and Jeongguk lets everyone pass him to get off. “Well I’m gonna go get ready for some free food. See you, yeah?”

He offers a high-five you hit hard. “Bye.”

“Oh. And good luck on your paper. You coming to the game by the way?” Jimin asks. He jumps off the bleachers, leaving you to stare at your honest attempt at getting work done. You close your laptop with a sad click. 

“I have an awards ceremony that day,” you explain. “I’ll try and catch it.”

“Don’t work too hard.” Just then, Jeongguk runs up behind Jimin not at all silently—his gym bag is ginormous—to catch him in a headlock. “Wha—”

“Why are you talking to my girlfriend,” Jeongguk interrogates. He’s probably wet with heat because Jimin scrunches his nose and shoves him off.

“You’re a pig, did you even shower.”

“Smell my armpits and you’ll get your answer.”

“Anyway,” Jimin groans. “I’m off.” He walks to the changing room in a swagger so calculated you’d yell at him for showing off his ass. But Jeongguk drags your attention away when he steps in front of the bleachers, leaning over until you greet him with a kiss.

“Hi,” Jeongguk says against your mouth.

You plug your nose for effect. “So you didn’t shower.”

“I rinsed! Don’t be mean.” He watches as you shove all your things into your bag, his hand poised for you to give it to him, and inside you falter at his generosity but you shoulder the strap and use his outstretched palm to help you up instead. “I wanted your bag, miss.”

“No, you already have a heavy one.”

“Let me carry it for you—” But you shut him up with a tiptoe and a peck to his open mouth. “Don’t distract me!”

You ignore him, grabbing his wrist and dragging him toward the exit. “Let’s go, I might miss my bus.”

Eight p.m. is a dead hour on campus grounds. You see only a handful of straggling students going back to res, even more going into the library building. The lamps guide your every step. Jeongguk’s fingers tangle in yours. “So you aren’t free at all the rest of the week right?”

“Yeah.” You try not to look at him because you know he’s pouting. “I didn’t get any work done thanks to your shouting.”

“That was Yoongi,” Jeongguk defends. “And sorry.”

You reach the bus shelter. “I’m kidding.” The neon sign overhead says your bus is due in three minutes. “I’m—I like going to your practice.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I like seeing my star hockey player tear it up on the ice,” you joke. Jeongguk laughs into your lips when he bends down lock them with his own. 

“Was it sexy enough for you?”

“Oh yeah. Got my pussy rumbling.”

He balks. “You’re so annoying.”

Two minutes. “It’s starting again.”

“What is?” In the dark light of the evening moon rising, you are reminded of this bus shelter seven months ago. A tower of nerves over you. If you think hard enough, you can still hear the shaky question he’d let dangle from his tongue, the one that has you here with him now. But now Jeongguk is nervous for different reasons. “Oh, like when you disappear on me for like five years.”

You see the light of the bus coming. You wrap Jeongguk in your arms. “Yeah. I’m only free next week.”

“Take it easy,” he says. Only one person gets off at the stop. “Just text me. Don’t need a repeat of last time.”

Last time—a month into your relationship. When you texted him every four days because of your midterms and he’d gotten so worried he genuinely wept when you showed up to his doorstep. It was a good thing you’d brought food too; not that you were expecting a cry fest but he’d felt better once he was filled with fried noodles and your affection. You concede to his request with a nod.

He lets you leave with one last kiss to your forehead. “See you,” you say. The air is alive with what you have to leave behind for the time being.

The week is rough. Professor Kwon asks you to submit marks sooner than you anticipate, so the need to get your paper done becomes a lot more urgent. One student hasn’t even handed in her assignment, which—fine. You don’t have any qualms about the zero you input. But the angry email with the threat to report you to an academic advisor the next day has you so on edge Namjoon agrees to grade half your assignments next time.

Jeongguk, somehow, eludes you too. Graduate school demands more tears than sweat and blood and while he tries his best to comfort you during your work-filled days, he’s been getting busier with hockey practice too. The added thought of starting to study for your exams is just another cake-topper. And it isn’t as if you’re going days without talking to Jeongguk, but it’s still a sting to the romantic part in you that misses him.

A week and a half before your big paper is due is a Tuesday. The girl who dissed you in your email doesn’t show up to tutorial. Everyone is dismissed for the evening. It’s good. 

Nothing beats the giddy jump in your step when you find a cubby in the library close enough to an outlet, though.

Then you get a text from Jeongguk.

[8:07 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I’m free the rest of the night!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Let me love u bich u really deprived me of touch for an entire week  [8:07 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Wya

He meets you at the library with sweaty bangs and indents on his cheek from his helmet. You briefly contemplate jumping him. The feeling is quelled with the reminder that the library doesn’t tolerate loud noises and Excessive Romantic Gestures, so you opt for:

“Sexy.” You’re up on your feet to give him a quick hug and he makes a disgruntled face before dropping a kiss to your mouth.

“You wet yet?”

You glare to hide the need to balk. You plop back down. “You ate pussy once, don’t think this gives you free points to get so cocky.”

He pauses. “Sorry?”

“Sit. And don’t—ask me that again.”

“Yes ma’am.” Jeongguk cowers into the seat next to you. “What’s my scholar up to tonight?”

“Researching about Western Europe and their refugee policies.”

He doesn’t look like he’s interested but he makes a contemplative noise. “Very… educated. But anyhow. I’ve been thinking.” Uh oh. “And I have something. It was a week-long thought process but I have it.”

Your pens roll along the wood of the desk. “Have what?”

“A plan.”

“For?”

“For how I’m gonna fuck you. Eventually, I mean.”

“I leave you for a week and this happens,” you answer, but he’s not fazed. You feel yourself melting. Something you learned about Jeongguk during the preliminary stages of your relationship was that he liked getting things right. And if that meant practicing until he was ready—well. There’s a part in you that fears for the livelihood of your vagina. “Babe. That’s—you know we don’t need some sort of… five-steps-to-success thing.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” He pouts like you have it all wrong. Maybe you do, but it doesn’t sound so convincing to your—to be frank—non-virgin ears. “Good practice.” 

You knew he would say that. “You have something in your noggin already, boy?”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna elaborate?”

Jeongguk shrugs. “What do people normally establish before they start having sex?”

“Well I don’t have lice in my pubic hair if that’s what you wanna know,” you offer.

He scrunches his face. “Don’t—joke about that.”

“Sorry.” Jeongguk gives you an incredulous look because you both know you don’t mean it. “But you really wanna do this here?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, lay it on me.”

“Wait—really?” 

You’re starting to think you won’t get any work done for the night. Like all the nights you spend with Jeongguk and you realize the pattern now, so you might as well indulge in him. “Yeah, go pull on all your pornographic roots.”

“Ha ha.”

“I’m not into getting tied up, first of all.” You flip a page in your textbook to feign nonchalance as Jeongguk wheezes.

“Stop that!” But he just takes a piece of paper and readies a fist to write. “You’re so crude.”

Now you really can’t focus. “Are you seriously going to write about my sexual preferences?”

“No, I’m writing a detailed observation about how to go about. You know.” He purses a lip in thought. “Navigating the ocean of your pussy and its desires.”

You didn’t think the library would be home to both of your sexual awakenings, but Jeongguk makes it hard to be shy when he’s this motivated. “Weird way of asking me if I’m into watersports.”

“Okay you have to take back asking me about my pornographic roots because it sounds like you’re the freakier one.”

“You like me being freaky?” 

He reddens. “Anyway!” (Silently, you revel in your power to tease.) “I was thinking. Since we can’t hang out too much the next week-ish, that we save all the good stuff for later.”

Good point. “Define good stuff.”

Jeongguk gets smaller. Eyes drilled into yours, he whispers, “Putting my penis inside you.”

“Okay now it’s getting weird.”

He drops his pencil in disbelief. “Only now? Tell me how any of this wasn’t weird in the first place.”

“You’re literally the one who took out a pencil to jot down my sexual preferences, don’t act like you’re innocent.” Now he has the decency to look sheepish. He doesn’t say anything. “Jeongguk. It’s fine to be nervous. But I don’t want you to feel like you need to do this.”

You might as well be talking to the wall but he nods anyway. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No! Just… you don’t owe anyone anything.” Something in you longs for him to understand that. You hate to make him nervous but Jeongguk is so adamant you almost want to wrap him in your arms from the sexually-inclined horde that came in the form of Park Jimin. “Remember that.”

He deflates with a sigh. “Then… can you come over tomorrow?” He’s squirming. “I’m done practice at seven.”

“If my advisor’s nice enough she’ll let me off at six,” you confirm.

Jeongguk takes a notebook out but makes no effort to open it. “And. I missed you. Just. Wanted to get that out there.”

There’s only so much texting can do, you get it. The pit of your stomach simmers with affection for the dumb boy sitting next to you, legs jumping the way they do when he’s nervous. “Love you.” And he smiles. Fuel for your listlessness. There are papers to write, and virgins to daydream about. Especially about the one who just propositioned you with absurdities. But now his pencil is out, and the moment is lost. 

You can think about Jeongguk’s dick later. For now, you settle in the quietude of his presence with yours.

It’s a colder day today.

“Hi!” Taehyung opens the door, bouncing in his pyjamas from the rush of freezing air. “Come, come. Please don’t ask me how I’ve been, I’m so tired of school and that’ll be my answer and I don’t want to talk about it.”

You swallow your pleasantries down. He’s a stressed Neuroscience major. “Fair,” you greet instead, toeing your boots off.

“Coming from somewhere?”

“Tutorial evaluation,” you say. Taehyung lets out a low whistle, closes the door behind you. He knows your shoulders are stiff because of Professor Kwon’s watchful gaze. Sitting at the back, ramrod straight with that black clipboard, taking down notes on your performance as a first-time TA. 

She’d let you go after with a smile, though. Let you know you did fine. You’d practically glided to residence when she’d given you the go to leave for the day. 

“I have a question for you,” Taehyung says. He sits on the couch, watches as you take off your snow-soiled scarf and jacket. “Has Jeongguk been more… fidgety lately?”

So he’s noticed too. “Yeah, I’ve—seen it. Why?”

“I don’t know, he sort of just—” Taehyung scoots over when you plop down next to him— “he came out of the room yesterday squealing, then ran around the living room for a bit then just. Went back into his room.”

Oh. So that’s what he was off to do when said he needed to get something after you linked him to your favourite porn accounts on Twitter.

“Maybe it’s just. I don’t know, pre-game jitters,” you lie. Taehyung’s giving you the look. Like he’s not satisfied with your answer and the only way to sate him is if you let him do one thing. “You can ask.”

“Did you fuck him yet?”

No reservations. As expected, because he’s just as nosy as Jimin and the rest of their friends annoyingly concerned with Jeongguk’s hesitation in the bedroom. “Nope.”

“Okay but like—can you fuck him already? I’m gonna be rolling in my grave by the time his penis passes the two-inch border of your personal space.”

You can’t keep in your snort. “Oh my god.”

“Just. We really don’t mean to be so standoffish but he just likes you so much it’s insane. Like I’ll see his phone light up and he will too. He’ll literally—he just glows. It’s kind of creepy actually but like. Cute creepy.”

The rush of praise runs through you. You don’t like to brag, but you really did snag the campus boy crush. You were popular enough with academia, but after the first time Jeongguk posted a picture of you two at the Christmas market, though—the entire student body went ballistic. It was the nascence of a fairy tale; movie romance budding in the grey concrete of campus grounds. 

No one saw it coming. And knowing that the one everyone has their eye on has its eyes on you—it’s a good kind of blow.

“He’s my baby,” you say, and Taehyung coos. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of him.”

There’s a rattling of the door knob. The sight of a ragged Jeongguk stumbles in, gym bag dropped on the floor and he disappears down the hall with the call for a shower and a brief smile your way. “I’ll be five minutes, babe.”

That’s Taehyung’s cue. “Well—I’m off to study group. Take care of him, yeah?”

“You know it.” You offer a fist bump. Taehyung’s knuckles are bony on yours. 

The trek to Jeongguk’s room isn’t unfamiliar. You bounce back on his bed, willing yourself not to close your eyes because you know you’ll just crash. A headache prepares right behind your temple, as imminent as rumbling thunder. Something in you calls for Jeongguk to hurry the fuck up before you succumb to Stress and those horrible, horrible thoughts of due dates.

It doesn’t take that long. There’s the squeak of the shower handle turning off and the black of your closed eyes, the scurrying of an unseen body; the lifting of your shirt for a very heavy weight of a hockey player blowing raspberries into the skin of your stomach. Jeongguk chortles when you nearly break your back trying to dislodge him. “You’re—oh my god—hey stop!”

“Hi,” he says, laugh caught in his breath, “I’m clean.”

“I see that.” He’s in his pyjamas. You let him settle on your side. The lingering heat from his shower makes you clammy but you let him hold you tight. “How was practice?”

“It was nice.” This is code for: I wasn’t yelled at by Yoongi. “I’m excited for our game, I’m feelin’ good. Did you find out if you could make it?”

You were blessed by the gods, because not only were your days coinciding, they were also starting an hour within each other. You’d be at the podium with a flowery speech while Jeongguk tears the ice rink with his pretty skates. And if every award recipient’s was longer than a minute then you might miss the entire game. Two hours past Jeongguk most likely scoring the winning goal; an infinity lost to see your star in action. 

(And seeing Jeongguk play is really attractive.)

You settle with: “I’ll try my best.”

“Okay,” he says. The crown of his head digs into your neck. You feel his lips when he speaks. “How are you holding up?”

“Barely.”

“Did you get your paper done?”

“Barely.”

“So it’s done.”

“Let’s not talk about school,” you dismiss. He leaves the conversation to wither with a suction to your skin. Wet where he lines your neck with quick kisses and you soften into the sheets. “Is this your way of—executing your plan.”

“Hm?”

“You know—your—guide to putting your penis inside me.”

He leans up on his elbow. Unimpressed because his eyebrows are scrunched. “Funny.”

“You love me.”

“And what about it?” His eyes shine the way they do before he tells you he loves you too. “It isn’t even a plan it’s just—a buildup. To when my penis goes inside you. Like a countdown but with orgasms instead.” You snicker. He drags a light hand down your front, settling his palm right over your pussy. “Let me touch you.”

You forget how to breathe for a second. “Yeah—I’m—yeah. Please.”

“Sit up.” Jeongguk plants himself near the wall, not unlike the position he was in when you sucked his dick for the first time. Instead of the afternoon heat, you’re caught under the dying evening rays of sunset: not as hot but still you feel the spark in your belly when Jeongguk lifts your bum to settle you between his legs. His nails play with the button of your pants. “I wanna try something.”

“Sure.” And he helps you wiggle off your clothes, bottom bare to his graces. Doesn’t say anything, just lets his mouth meet yours slowly, tasting the day off your tongue, your worries behind his teeth. 

“Anyone ever fingered you so hard you cried?”

“You wanna make me cry?”

“Don’t say it like that.” Jeongguk nips at your lip. “But yeah, I guess.”

You’re wet. This is a fact you come to realize when you feel him spread your legs, feet planting in the mattress in an attempt to ground yourself.  “Okay,” you agree.

His mouth’s busy with yours, lips unyielding like he could do this all day. It’s almost picturesque, the way he has you: head turned over to meet him in his love, arms wrapped around your own. Yours for him to savour and he always tastes good.

He doesn’t wait anymore. Your clit throbs with the passes of his fingers, head falling back to rest on Jeongguk’s shoulder when he dips in the pool of your heat and drags it back up. Groaning when he spins tight circles like you taught him and your hands find his thighs. “Feels—good,” you utter. Already you’re gone but Jeongguk feeds into your pleasure with no qualms for your embarrassment.

“Can I—put in a finger?” He asks shyly, but playing with your slick like he’s known how to make you putty in his hands this whole time.

“Yeah. Please.” You welcome the insistence in your sex with the buck of your hips. Jeongguk curls his middle finger up, the heel of his hand smooth on your clit and you sigh, “Ooh, fuck yeah.”

He kisses your cheek. “Another one?”

“I can take it,” you say, and he has another finger in you, hooking into your nerves. You might moan but Jeongguk turns your head and molds his mouth into yours, stealing your breath with his tongue. He curves in a little too hard and you squeal. “Oh my god, too—much.”

“Sorry.” He adjusts, fingers straight again. “M’gonna go faster, if that’s okay.” You nod, restless, and then he adds: “And you can’t look away from me.”

“Yes please—”

You couldn’t look away even if you tried, because the hand not fucking you into oblivion catches your cheeks, locking you to Jeongguk’s gaze. It’s a fucked out one too, and now you notice his hard dick pressed up against your back. 

It’s a storm of thrusting: wet and more wet and now he abruptly pulls out, smears your slick on your clit in a rub so fast you would squeal louder if it weren’t for his lips swallowing your sounds. 

“Oh-h—!”

You burn. Jeongguk enters you again and your cunt feels swollen. Fucking all the deepest and dirtiest parts of you and you take it, yielding to the draw on your tight walls. The squelch gets louder. So do you. 

“Oh yeah—” And you don’t cry but the feeling of him inside is so overwhelming and all that you need and it’s there— “Fuck, y-eah. Gonna cum soon—”

“Give it to me.” Punctuated with a twist in your sex so rough you would have twitched him off but his legs cage you. Jeongguk smiles. “Come on babe—”

“Nnn—ha J-Jeongguk—” You grab his wrist, the one knocking his fingers so good though he doesn’t stop under the tight hold— “B-Baby—”

“I want it, I want it,” he chants into your mouth, like he’s eager for a release conducive to your early death just so he can say he did that. Awful cocky but you can’t dwell on it. “Just cum for me.”

“Fuck—” He makes you look at him when you do, eyes wide to his imploring ones. He has it in his fingers, a climax that wrangles the most obscene noises from your throat. Your hips grind up uncontrollably, clit a pulsing pain but his thumb rubs it all the same. Jeongguk doesn’t stop till you whine, “God, please—I can’t."

“You’re crying.”

“Am not.” But you feel the sting of heat in your eyes. Jeongguk rubs his nose with yours, wrapped in his arms and affection.

“Was it good though?”

“Was it good, he says.” You kiss him with no bite. “Loved it. Best ever.”

Jeongguk lights up, corners of his mouth lifted into a sated grin. “Woo,” he says. You’re about to ask if he wants one rubbed out but he continues speaking. “So plan’s going well if you wanted to know.”

“Shut up. Shut up!” You make a point of getting up with as much force as possible, disturbing the coils the mattress as Jeongguk laughs. “You’re so gross.”

“You love me.”

Your panties are sticky against you. You turn to see him staring at you already. “I love you.”

The room glows in the last few minutes of red, coated darker and darker. But the look Jeongguk gives you—maybe astonishment, maybe longing—casts a glow that blazes within. Like all he wants is for you to be here and you do too. He breaks the silence with a smile. “You’re the best, you know that?”

You climb back over him, unable to resist anymore. “So I’ve been told.”

“I mean it though.” He shifts so you’re lying down again, head on his chest. Warm again. “Sorry if I’m—pushing the agenda. And I know I say Jimin’s not getting to me and it’s true but it—makes me want you. All the time.”

You settle for the truth with a kiss to his sternum. “I have no free time after today though.” 

“That’s okay,” Jeongguk whispers. “Just love me now and you can always love me later.”

“I can do that,” you say. 

He lets you dig into his side even further. “Are you sure you don’t wanna talk about school?”

“Mm.” You know it’ll help to air your dirty laundry. But knowing Jeongguk has his own shit to deal with is enough for you to hesitate. “Nothing I—haven’t said before. Just stressed.”

“About your last assignment?”

“Mhm.”

“You’re smart. And for whatever reason, really into baby-making in foreign countries.” Jeongguk groans when you pinch him. “But I know you. And you’ll do well. Also it’s official that you’ll do well because you’re dating someone really good at what they do, and I was just inside your body so technically my energy transferred to you.”

“Very solid process.” 

His breathes warmth into your skin. “Believe me. You’re gonna be fine.”

And it’s not the end of the world, not being able to see him for a bit. You both know this. You hug him tighter to you regardless, like making his skin stick to yours was an actuality. You know he feels it too when his arm locks just a tiny bit harder. An unspoken longing for the mold of your body.

You’ll get there.

It’s been four days since you’ve seen Jeongguk, so Namjoon takes the responsibility of keeping you sane. He books a study room for three hours and meets you with a two cups of coffee and three extra pens just in case they run out while you mark your assignments together. He takes the stack of papers from you with a frown, and you work.

The paper is coming along well. You think you have a good five pages to go, but the amount of hounding Professor Kwon has done is scaring you into another late night-in. More and more marks are due, and Namjoon has his own work to deal with. You hate to burden him with your own but now you’re really feeling the Stress from school.

[6:01 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Hey what are you doing [6:02 PM] You: i’m doing work :(( [6:02 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Poo poo [6:02 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I’m bored [6:03 PM] You: 💩💩 [6:03 PM] You: sorry bout it !!!!!!! [6:04 PM] You: wait how can u be bored ur @ practice ?? if ur just…. doin practice [6:05 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: On break [6:05 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: And I miss you [6:06 PM] You: omg!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [6:06 PM] You: my heart

Namjoon’s eyebrows are scrunched. “I can’t tell what this student is saying.”

“Read it out loud.” 

“I will argue that the legalization of crack cocaine will act as a beneficial potential towards the bettering of society. With the advent of legal marijuana usage in Canada—yeah.”

“That’s… an abuse of thesaurus privileges,” you comment.

He hums. “They’re young, let them live.”

Again, Jeongguk texts you.

[6:09 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: When are you free [6:10 PM] You: tonight [6:10 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I’m not 😩😩 What about Wednesday? [6:11 PM] You: i’m only free rn baby :( might have to wait till after friday [6:12 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 [6:12 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Damn [6:12 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I need to go now text me when you’re done k?????? Love you [6:13 PM] You: okay ! 💜

You hear Namjoon snapping at you. “You’re getting distracted.”

“Sorry.” Your pen twitches in your grip. This is your third cup of coffee. “Just—need a goddamn break.

You can sense Namjoon’s nerves grating too. “I get it.” He looks at his watch. “Well. We need to leave in five minutes.”

You graded almost all of your half of assignments. You let yourself breathe a sigh of accomplishment, clearing your work into your bag. “Thanks for helping me out.”

“Buy me lunch someday and we’ll call it even,” Namjoon says. He swipes the papers your way to collect. “And by the way—” he takes one last sip of his coffee— “I caught wind that one of the Commissioner-Generals is coming to the ceremony.”

You stare. “From which agency?” 

“No clue. But I just thought you should know.”

Of course he would. The one time you don’t clear your search history and now Namjoon is up your ass helping you find any potential global PhD programs. And it wasn’t unimaginable either, some higher-up coming to see the semester-end awards the department heads organized, and the student chair had a lot of say in it, current one being Kim Namjoon: a lobbyist, a smart guy, and Twitter-sort-of-famous for being really damn loud about inequality.

But they’re probably not recruiting me, you think. Best not to get your hopes up lest it go to a well-deserved head who apparently doesn’t get distracted by the potential of finally squeezing their boyfriend’s dick. 

Namjoon sighs. “Hey, isn’t the ceremony the same day as the game?”

“Yep,” you confirm. For a split second, an image of Jeongguk giggling pops up into your head.

“Do you think you’ll make it?”

You sling your bag over your shoulder, standing outside the door until Namjoon turns off all the lights. “I’m gonna try.”

The hallway to the main entrance of the Humanities wing is quiet. “Speaking of the game. Any intel about your current… predicament?”

“Jimin?”

“Jimin.”

“About Jeongguk?”

“About Jeongguk.”

“Fuck,” you murmur. And you thought he’d be kind enough to keep your secret, but Namjoon is to Jimin like a big is to a little except they’re both too posh to be in a frat. “Not really. And stay out of it.”

“I will,” he says. He opens the door, winter wind as brutal as ever. You think about Jeongguk walking you to the bus stop but he’s probably already back at his dorm. You shiver. “But if I catch you distracted on your phone again I might have to ask.”

You cower into embarrassment.“Sorry.” 

Namjoon waves you off. “Just get home safe, yeah?”

Getting home isn’t that bad; late enough for the absence of the rush hour crowd and you get to sit on the bus the rest of the ride. You all but book it to your place to escape the frost nipping at your cheeks and into the nest of your textbooks. Plans to demolish at least a tiny bit of your not-so-tiny pile of work come to a stand-still when you hear your phone vibrate.

[7:46 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Hey did u finish yet [7:46 PM] You: fuck sorry forgot to text [7:46 PM] You: yeah i did, i just got home [7:47 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: That’s good [7:47 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Do you have a lot of work to do tonight?? [7:48 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Please say no [7:48 PM] You: ….. [7:48 PM] You: why [7:48 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: The plan [7:50 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Still building [7:50 PM] You: should i be scared [7:51 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: No!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [7:51 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: But [7:51 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I know you wouldn’t like it if I didn’t ask, and I’m a good boy, so [7:52 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Can I send you a picture of my dick?

A boot hangs limply from your toes from when you were trying to tug it off. Dumbly, you’re gaping. Gaping at this transition from shy Jeongguk to… whatever the fuck this was. The pulsing of your sex betrays your shock.

It’s not like things were changing fast, either. That moment in his bed—after he fucked you with his fingers—was the last time you’d been together. A solid evening of knotted arms and Jeongguk’s breath down your neck. He’d only let you go because your complaints to do homework got too loud for him to sleep properly, and you left him in his room like that: heavy-eyed and full of low murmurs for you to come back.

“You’ll miss me, right?” He’d asked. It sounded so innocent. Looked like it too when he stood next to you as you slipped on your shoes. The answer was easy.

“Duh.”

And it wasn’t like you weren’t affectionate. Sure, gaining the impulse to hug and squeeze him was one you had to work up to, but this came with new relationships, that novelty of being someone else’s: one that Jeongguk had no problems getting used to. Took you a little longer to warm up to his kisses in public but you’re here now. Here, slack-jawed at this distant intimacy. Feet mired in your shock, on the carpet of your front door.

You don’t remember feeling this desperate for Jeongguk before. 

[7:54 PM] You: i [7:54 PM] You: definitely wouldn’t be opposed

You lock your screen fast. Fling your shoes off, slap your jacket onto a hanger. You nearly bust your bedroom down in your hurry to get the fuck on the bed, like the rush of a late night with a stranger but Jeongguk is wholly familiar and isn’t even here to touch you. The ding of your phone is enough to keep you on your toes. You don’t swipe yet because already you’re sweating.

Aa…Jeongguk❣️: 1 Photo and 2 Messages

Should you take your clothes off? Or is he supposed to ask you to do that? Should you ask? What the fuck. This was too much.

You open it. It takes one second to download.

That’s his dick. Jeongguk’s dick, flash on, held up by the tips of his fingers at the base like he knows his angles. The tip is flushed with a wetness you’d lick right up if you were there just to feel the way he shivers under you.

[7:55PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Baby I’m so hard [7:55PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Wanna kiss you all over

You squeal. 

This was your boyfriend, mister-campus-hotboy, the one literally everyone got hard over and now he’s sending you his own personal dick pics. Maybe you do need to thank the high heavens one day because

What

The

Fuck is going on.

No matter. 

[7:57PM] You: i want u to [7:57PM] You: want u on top of me [7:57PM] You: with ur lips on my neck [7:58PM] You: getting me wet. u always make me. wet

You can’t wait anymore. Your shirt is off, bra tossed, back bare on your sheets. You shimmy out of your pants just as Jeongguk texts back.

[7:58PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Fcurck baby [7:59PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Can’t stop thinnking abt u [8:00PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: The way u sounded [8:00PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: When I was e ating u out [8:01PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: u tasted so good on m y tonguel fucckkkk [8:01PM] You: are u jacking off rn ??? [8:02PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Yess [8:02PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Touch urself [8:02PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Please?

Panties come off. It’s not a surprise when your finger is soaked in your arousal, teasing your clit and you sigh.

[8:02PM] You: fuck im so wet [8:03PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Yeah??? [8:03PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: What r u thinkgnin about [8:03PM] You: your mouth [8:04PM] You: on my tits [8:04PM] You: my cunt [8:04PM] You: u got me off sooo good [8:05PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Fuucckckk baby [8:05PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: You’re so hot ho ly shit [8:05PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Want u so bad [8:06PM] You: how??? [8:06PM] You: u already treat me so good [8:06PM] You: maybe i’’ll take care of u now hm? ?? [8:07PM] You: mymouth on ur dick [8:07PM] You: taste so good [8:08PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Shit

Everything was jumping out of your head so quick your one hand couldn’t keep up. The two fingers on your pussy dipped again, jolts of sweetness straight through your nerves when you rub yourself faster. Focusing on his texts was as easy as trying to stave your orgasm off, which… really wasn’t going too well, pelvis meeting the palm of your hand in a desperate kick.

[8:08PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Take your clothes off [8:09PM] You: past that

It takes him a minute.

[8:10PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Could you send a pic [8:10PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Pleas e

Oh. Okay.

You lean up on your elbow, push your chest against your bicep in the hopes that your cleavage could somewhat be evocative enough in the weak light of your phone. (You notice you forgot to turn the lights on.) The picture cuts off right above your nipples, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t do that just for the possibility of a desperate plea. You lie back down.

Sent.

[8:13PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: urruhguhgkehrdhfg [8:13PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Baby pleease I want more [8:14PM] You: of what ??? [8:14PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: FUck [8:15PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I want you [8:15PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: On top of me [8:15PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Grnding yuor pretty pussy on my dick [8:16PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: You’re wet ik ur wet

Of course he would. He knows your body better than ever before, and you might tease him but the throbbing you’re attending to is too much of a distraction.

[8:17PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Can you imagine that [8:17PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Teasig my cock into you [8:17PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: But I won’t putnit in yet [8:17PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Bc I want u squirming o n top of me [8:18PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Ik u don’t beg [8:19PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: But I would ask u anyway if u want me to sink u down on my cock

Oh my god. The soft sucking sound of your fingers inside your cunt isn’t enough to drag you out of this reverie. It just sinks you deeper into this bliss Jeongguk spells out for you so well. He has you like putty. Your knuckles curve you into a hopeless whimper.

[8:20PM] You: i want that [8:20PM] You: iwa nt that so bad pleas [8:21PM] You: let me feel your dick inside [8:21PM] You: u want that so bad baby [8:21PM] You: to feel me squeezing around u [8:21PM] You: im so tight and wwt [8:22PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Wanna hear u  [8:22PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Ft [8:22PM] You: just call

You don’t think you could handle seeing his dick now. Especially when the build in your pussy is this close to tipping you into a climax he probably wants to hear.

Your phone blares in the quiet. “Baby—”

“I’m so close,” Jeongguk says. He sounds like he’s panting. “Tell me you are too. Please—!” He cuts himself off with a gasp.

“Y-Yeah.” You burn in his desperation, curling into your cunt in the spot you know would have you keeling over. “Ngh—!”

“I wanna hear you. Wanna—hear you when I fuck you. So—good.”

“Oh fuck—”

“You want that too baby?”

You heave. “Yes!”

“Let me hear you cum. Please. I’m so fucking close—”

“Jeongguk!” You sputter, moaning loud, crying in the extremity. It zips through your core, has you reeling, legs shaking as you rub it out so hard you arch from your bed. You barely register Jeongguk’s own completion.

“Fuck I’m cumming—shit!” He groans, long, noisy on the line but the image of his cum onto his hands has your stomach clenching. Clobbered by his own doing and it’s almost endearing how fucked out he sounds. There’s a moment where you hear fumbling, a distant breath; shifts in the mattress probably. “Baby…”

Your phone lights up again. 

Aa…Jeongguk❣️: 1 Photo

You don’t hesitate this time. 

His dick is wet, probably with his spit, but now his entire first is closed around it, dregs of his cum pooling in the suction of his palm against the pink skin. The urge to put your mouth on him is so over-whelming you groan in frustration.

“Want it in my mouth,” you say.

“You’ll make me hard again,” Jeongguk murmurs with a laugh.

It’s just past 8:30. “So. What got you so hard that had you begging for me over the phone?”

“Hm.” You move until you’re under the covers. A makeshift warmth because you don’t have Jeongguk to cuddle you for post-sex softness. “I don’t know. Just missed you. Again. Sorry if you had work to do.”

“No you’re not.”

“Yeah I’m not.” You think you hear him in the washroom. The vent is loud. “Made a mess.”

“Not my fault.”

“Uh, it kinda was. Hoping for more nipple next time.”

“Now you’re asking for too much,” you sigh. There’s a sleepy pull in your head, dragging you through the waves of feelings that currently bombard your heart. “I miss you too. Hope you’re not working too hard.”

“I have a bruise on my ass! Oh my god I forgot to tell you. But Hoseok checked me so hard for no fucking reason and—boom. Landed right on my booty.”

You coo. “Aw. Want me to kiss it better?”

“Yes please, it’s on my fatter butt-cheek I think.”

It dies down again. “So what stage are we at for your build-up?”

“Close to the finale.”

You can’t stop yourself from smiling. There’s only three days left till your prospective hells come to a head. Then it’s back to loving Jeongguk but closer to him this time, not through the cracked screen of your phone. “Can’t wait.”

“Me too,” Jeongguk says. “Guess—I should leave you to your work?”

As much as you want to say no, the pile of essays on your desk is calling for your ass to get moving. It sends a quick ripple of nervous tension down your spine but the sooner you get it done the sooner it is to texting Jeongguk again. You know he’s impatient too. “Yeah. Might stay up.”

“Not too late, okay? You’re almost there. And make that tea I bought you, it’s supposed to help with your headaches.”

You’ll cry. “I love you.”

“Love you too. Text me when you’re gonna sleep.”

You’re probably ovulating because a tear really does slip over your cheek. The stickiness between your thighs rubs your skin when you finally get up, avoiding the offensive stack of work in your periphery when the hints of a new headache start to come up. 

Jeongguk probably knew you were heading straight into another painful night of working. There’s a tin of loose leaf tea sitting patiently for you in your cupboard. And maybe taking on the teaching position wasn’t such a good idea, but then again, dates where everything loomed over you were inevitable. School’s a bitch. But you have an attractive boy waiting for you to finish, and that’s what prompts you to face the music. One more time.

Three more nights. 

The first night is actually okay. You get a page and half done, and Namjoon checks in with a text in the evening to make sure you aren’t pulling your teeth out. Jeongguk has practice the whole day. 

During the second night, you forget to save one of the articles you cited, and you spend a frantic hour searching through all your sources to trace it back. It’s a painful process and you almost cry, but you text Jeongguk and he sends you a selfie of him sending you a thumbs up. Your phone lags trying to scroll through the gigantic box of of hearts he texts you. You find the article. It’s good.

Third night and you’re about ready to give up. Jeongguk and Namjoon are both out of commission because apparently the universe hates all of you and you’re all busy with your respective work. But you have a page to conquer, and the onus is on you to show up with nice skin tomorrow because the department likes to take pictures to post online. The tea Jeongguk got you steams as you type diligently.

One

More

Word

Andit’sdone.

“Oh god,” you whisper to yourself. You scroll through your paper, making sure all your citations are right. Page numbers there. No excessive use of the first-person, your professor’s name spelt correctly. Formatted correctly.

It’s done.

You bask in the harsh light of your desk lamp, weight lifted off your shoulders the instant you save your document to submit online.

The assignment page loads, and you hit the button.

The line of your phone rings twice.

“Hello?” Jeongguk groans. It’s three in the morning. “Babe? Are you okay?”

“I FINISHED I SUBMITTED IT IT’S IN!” You yell. A genuine rise in your throat that has Jeongguk whooping with as much energy as his sleep-ridden voice can allow on the other side of the line.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I wanna hop on your dick right now.”

Jeongguk just snickers. Your eyebrows raise, because for sure he would’ve been choking. But maybe it’s because he’s tired. “Don’t tempt me into a boner, it’s too early for this.”

“Fuck—sorry. You have your game. Okay I’ll hang up. I’m gonna—sleep. Try to. Okay I love you! Sorry bye!”

“Sleep well. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You knock out the second your light is off and your head hits the pillow.

You asked Namjoon earlier in the day to call you awake because your ringtone is more annoying than your alarm. And even though the ceremony is later in the evening, you’re scared that you’ll sleep the entire day away. 

Jeongguk texts you before you’re up. A congratulatory message, and another saying that he’ll be at practice the whole day so he’ll try to text you at lunch. But the afternoon sun sees no text from him and you know it’s because he’s sweating his balls off on the hockey rink. Stubborn like you know he is but now you miss him again. 

One thing that sticks in your head the rest of the day: the thought of it being over. Because once you get your awards and hopefully get to see the end of the game, you get Jeongguk to yourself again. Two weeks of agonizing to get to this point all but crashes into your loins to spark a frighteningly hot fire, and now, once again, you’re left to fantasize about Jeongguk’s dick. You force yourself not to dwell on it too much, makeup a risk to your fidgeting and if the reason why you have an ugly picture up online is because you were longing for dick then—well. 

It’s Namjoon who greets you when you get to the conference hall downtown.

“You look good,” is all he says. 

You stick your tongue out at him. You had to redo your lipstick twice. “Shut up.”

He leads you to where he was sitting: the massive table stuck in the middle with the microphones sticking up along the perimeter. Maplewood and entirely unfitting for the green carpet, though Namjoon beats you before you can say anything mean. “If you look up front, that’s the Commissioner-General I was talking about.”

You look. She’s a petite woman, scarily thin, wearing a bright scarf. “Yoon Soomin,” you recognize.

“Correct.”

“Namjoon!” You hit his shoulder, and he winces with a grin. “Why didn’t you tell me!”

“Because I knew you’d get stressed!”

Well he’s goddamn right you’re stressed now. Yoon Soomin, Commissioner-General of one of the programs you had your eyes on for the past year now. Applications are open next week. You’ve had yours done for a solid six months, and now the head of the program is right here. In the flesh. Watching you about to get your award.

The chatter of all the other students is drowned out when the program head gets up for the commencement speech. “Good evening everyone. My name is Bae Joohyun. Thank you—”

Ding.

Namjoon kicks your shin. You silence your phone. It’s Jeongguk.

[7:39PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Hi babe hope u had a good day!!! Sorry I got distracted [7:40PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: But I know ur gna win like fifty awards so advanced congrats!!!!!!! Proud of ur big brain [7:40PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Love you [7:41PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I hope you make it later pls try ur hardest but if u can’t it’s okay but like I would really appreciate if you. Came [7:41PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: OJO [7:42PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Heh Taehyung said that looks like me 

There’s clapping. You don’t know why everyone’s clapping but you do it too.

[7:42PM] You: pls don’t break any limbs while i am here i won’t be fast enough [7:42PM] You: love u. play smart not hard. i’ll be there for ur final goal 🤪 [7:43PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Anything for my scholar [7:43PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: You r so cute please come soon [7:44PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I have to go now I LOVE You

“I will now invite the Student Chair Kim Namjoon forward to deliver a speech,” Professor Bae says.

No last text to Jeongguk because now you join the applause once more. Namjoon gets up with practiced ease, staggered steps of confidence because if anyone is going to get a PhD first, it’s him. And you know he applied for the program too.

It starts simple: “Thank you for coming today.” A celebratory gathering, gratitude for everyone’s hard work and commitment. A call for everyone to continue being ambassadors for the Humanities. Nothing you haven’t heard before. 

“I would also like to announce that the department has decided to award a special recipient tonight for their academic work and contribution to graduate research,” Namjoon continues. “The award will be presented by Yoon Soomin, Commissioner-General of the Anthropology for the Humanities Global Network. Please give your warmest applause to Doctor Yoon.”

Oh god. Your literal idol because she was just as interested in babies as you were and Jeongguk would for sure be goading you into a frenzy because of your shaking. But you clap as normally as normal clapping goes, and Doctor Yoon takes the mic.

“I’ll just head straight into it,” she says with a pretty smile. You catch Namjoon looking at you. He raises an amused eyebrow, and now you’re suspicious. “It is an honour to call upon ___, for their recent submission of pronatalist work based in Europe for the research study funded by the Global Network.” That’s—you. That’s you, and these are your legs moving on their own accord to the beat of the eager applause. You don’t look at Namjoon but you can hear him, because he’s clapping the loudest. “___ has been recognized before: for an outstanding submission in undergraduate research on cultural genocide, as well as active participation in the Anthropological department.”

Yoon Soomin extends a hand to you, as well as a pretty certificate gilded with bold letters in the form of your name. Again: all offered by Yoon Soomin. Again, you are shaking. 

“T—hank you,” you stammer, and her hand is soft in yours and you really just might cry but it’s probably because you’re exhausted. You’d slept for a solid ten hours but no amount of rest would have ever prepared you for her pretty voice congratulating you again. “I—It’s an honour.”

“Picture time,” Namjoon interrupts. He’s got his phone up. “Smile!”

“Congratulations again,” Doctor Yoon says. She grins like she knows something too, and the rest of the ceremony is static in your ears.

Like always, it’s repetition. A name called, award presented. Your name is exhausted three more times, and you’d cower under the attention but you worked too goddamn hard not get to this point. You think of Jeongguk, probably three to none even though it’s only been half an hour into the game. You and Namjoon are practically trembling when Professor Bae dismisses everyone.

Your jacket is on, purse about to swing over your shoulder when someone comes up to you.

“Hello.” Doctor Yoon again. “Oh—are you in a hurry?”

“Not at all,” you rush out. You can feel Namjoon vibrating too. “I—Thank you so much for presenting the award.”

“It was my pleasure. The overseas program application opens next week,” she advises, and you really might scream but you will yourself to stillness. “We don’t know where it’s based yet, but I hope that doesn’t discourage you from submitting your application.”

“Oh she’s been interested for years,” Namjoon offers. You elbow him. Doctor Yoon laughs. 

“I’m glad to hear that. Keep up the good work!”

You all but skirt around her with a quick thank you again! and make a mad dash out the building and to the underground train because Namjoon sucks and can’t drive on highways yet. “Good thing you didn’t wear heels because you’re so fucking slow.”

“Shut up,” you growl. The people on the sidewalk offer no space for you to slither through, and you grind you teeth with impatience. “And don’t give me shit when I beat you four to one.”

“Not everyone’s into babies like you are, genius.” You reach the closest subway entrance, a seedy staircase down into the dirty cement and your fare is paid with a drop of a coin; running for the departing train and you make it by the wisp of your hair. You sigh into an empty seat, Namjoon right next to you. “Time.”

It’s nearing 9:00. “Oh my god it’s almost done.”

“You’ll make it,” Namjoon says. The jostling ride is another twenty minutes, and you know it’s cutting it short but you promised Jeongguk. He’s so close. You’re out of breath. “So you’re free now, huh.”

“Yeah.”

“You worked hard.”

You scrunch your face in embarrassment. “Thanks Joonie.”

“I mean it,” he says. “No one deserves this more than you. Yeah? Cut yourself some slack.”

“I know—it’s just—I couldn’t be there for Jeongguk as much as I could have—” And it’s all coming out now. There’s only one other person on this cart other than Namjoon so you let yourself have the moment, the breakdown. The awfulness of preoccupation and missing your boyfriend and too much work. You don’t want to cry but the screech of the metal tracks makes it easier to hide. “‘M so fucking tired.”

Namjoon pats your back when you heave. “Two more stops. Then you can curse the gods all you want.”

Good incentive, because once the doors slide open on your stop you book it up the escalator as fast as your fatigue can allow. Luckily campus is right around the corner, cars taking up all the space on the road. Probably all here for the final match of the year, your university against the one a city over, and the cheers are so loud you hear it from the two sidewalks over. “Let’s go let’s go!”

And you and Namjoon run again, down to the set of doors of the arena nestled into the corner of your school. The doors are heavyset but you yank them like you’ll die if you aren’t inside within the next twenty seconds, and it’s only now that you feel the buzz of your phone from a text.

[8:58 PM] Jimin Bimin: I’m on the east side with taehyung, third from the bottom bleacher, mostly in the middle. hurry!!!!!!

Namjoon’s no doubt just following the beeline you make because even you can’t feel where your legs are taking you. All you know is the rush of school pride and the deafening yells of the crowd, lost bits of popcorn on the floor scrunching against your shoes as you search for Jimin. You see Taehyung first: warpaint on his face and he waves you over quickly, scooting over with a pull on Jimin to make room for Namjoon too.

“You made it!” Jimin screams and it still sounds like a squeak with the roar of the people everywhere.

But you ignore this, laser-beaming the rink for that familiar 97. You catch Jeongguk closely following the puck, stick clenched tightly in his fists, legs quick in their glide as the offence. You feel everyone’s bated breath, hands grabbing Jimin’s arm—the other team’s members flying past Jeongguk, the raise of the wood, a slap to the puck—

The red blares. The crowd goes wild. 

“HE WON!” Jimin screams and so do you, the wave of excitement passing over you like fairy dust and now everyone’s cheering. You have no idea what went on. But now all the boys off the rink jump over the barrier to grab Jeongguk in a hard throttle, arms tangled around each other, chant lost on your ears but they look so happy. 

Somehow, a body breaks away from the huddle, and now they’re skating in your direction. 

Jeongguk waves. You smile. A wave back, and now you have each other again.

You wait outside the building, watching as the throngs disperse. Namjoon, Taehyung, and Jimin already said their goodbyes, last felicitations from them both and a promise for lunch from you somehow gets squeezed from the conversation too. The brick is hard against your back.

[9:30PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: WHERE ARE YOU [9:30PM] You: i’m outside already!!

A door bursts open. There’s an inhale, then you turn your head. Jeongguk drops his bag the second you charge for him, arms ready for your attack as you jump and wrap your legs around his waist, arms caught on his neck. You think you hear someone gasp but it’s all lost on you now. “Oh my god I love you,” he breathes, and you cry. “Babe—”

“I watched you,” you sniffle, and you frown when he laughs. “Watched you win.”

“I’m glad.”

You kiss him. “Missed you.”

Jeongguk looks like he might cry too. “Mine again?”

“Yours again.” And you mean it. 

“I would—I would invite you over to the after-party but I’m sleepy,” he says in between presses of his mouth, “and I ran out of contact solution the other day so I can’t invite you over and also Taehyung’s probably sleeping right now.”

“Then you come over.” You melt into his tongue, his feet staggering in your grind and he bites your lip.

“R-Really?” 

“Yeah, actually get some shut-eye.” He lets you off when you wriggle your ass against his hands, dragging him to the bus stop before he can put them back against your jeans or else you might really fuck him this time. “Because Taehyung snores too loud anyway.”

The ride to your apartment totals eight minutes because it’s late, and living on the edge of the suburbs means no one’s up this late anyhow. Jeongguk hadn’t even let you find a seat, balancing through red lights on his feet just to fly out the door when you’d reached your stop. You’ve already done too much running today but Jeongguk still rushes you up to your floor, and before you can get the key to your door he has you pressed up on it instead.

“Want you,” he says. Hard against your throat like he means it.

“God—let me—open my door and you have me,” you say through your teeth, gritted because the hallways echo and now Jeongguk has his thigh pressed up against you. “Babe let go—”

He does, but only with a lingering kiss promised by your burning attraction. You don’t fumble with the lock but you do stumble in from how quick you open the door, slamming shut in your haste and you hear his duffel bag meet the ground and now your back meets the hard metal again. “You have to stop shoving me into this thing oh my god.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Jeongguk whispers. He’s kissing you again. Lifts you up with no warning and you yelp into his curious mouth, dick grinding into the rough of your pants. “Fuck I—”

“Did—you want to—”

“No—wait yes, yes—I just—” He doesn’t let up. You can feel his cock straining against his sweats, flimsy layers you could just shove down but his hips are glued to your own. “I can’t—cum. Right now. Too much. Wind—wound up.”

Your tailbone is starting to dig into the door. “Then let me down and let’s just—sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. One last kiss, nose meeting yours. “Still on my hockey grind.”

“Ew,” you snort. “Also don’t wear your pants to bed.”

“Oh.” He shoves his shoes off when you do. 

“I don’t like it when people wear their outside clothes on my sheets.”

“Oh.”

“But it’d be nice to wake up to your dick on my ass,” you add. Jeongguk makes a strangled noise, then carries you to bed.

“I’ll brush my teeth tomorrow,” is the last thing you remember him saying. 

The morning rushes in too soon. Your curtains aren’t closed and Jeongguk hogs the blanket, sprawled on your side of the bed no less. You weren’t kidding when you said you wanted to spoon but at least his cock is warm with something just as soft as your ass.

You settle in the calm. Jeongguk isn’t one to snore but his soft breaths are just as jarring, disbelief apparent when you realize this is the first time he’s ever slept-over at your place. As convenient as it is to live somewhere that only needed one bus ride, you’re on campus all the time; making sense meant taking up space in his res instead. But now the lump he occupies in your bed is something you think you could get used to.

(Even if he hogs the blanket.)

You’re still in your clothes from last night, but at least you had the decency to shuck off your jeans. And you’d gotten up well past Jeongguk-sleeping-hours to take off your makeup because it took you forever to pry his ridiculously strong arm off around you. You get up with a kiss to his mane of bedhead and a silent reminder to grab an extra toothbrush.

The next plan to execute on your list after washing the tired off: breakfast. And you know you don’t have eggs but you open the fridge like you’ll see the carton sitting there anyway.

You’re standing, coming to a blank for what feels like forever. You think briefly about ordering in, then remember the guilt of just grabbing groceries instead. The internal battle is cut short when you hear the creak of your bed, a long groan. Then, footsteps.

“You look sad,” Jeongguk croaks two seconds later.

You frown for effect. “I want eggs. And why are you up.”

“Come here, egghead.” Jeongguk is groggy. The sexy kind too, because his voice is a tenor that scratches the needier part in you, the one telling you to bury your face in his chest and you do just that. “I felt you move. Sorry I couldn’t wake you up with my dick against your butt.”

“S’ok. And go shower because you’re stinky.”

He lets you go. “Good morning,” he says for the first time. A domesticity you feel lightheaded from. “You should shower with me.”

“Unless you’re scared of detachable shower heads I think you’ll be fine.”

“Don’t be cocky,” he whines. “And you’re dirty too, you sweat a lot just like I do.”

That’s true. “But it’s not even a hair washing day.”

“Why are you resisting me, woman.” He brings two hands up, wiggling his fingers. “I’ll tickle you.”

“You will not—”

“I will tickle you and if you don’t shower with me I will cry.”

You huff. “Fine.” He leads you down the hall to the bathroom, satisfied in his quick win, back flexing when he takes his shirt off. “And I’m the cocky one.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he says. You know he’s baiting but you don’t want to resist him anymore. “You need to turn the shower on because I don’t know how to.”

Getting naked is a different kind of intimate when you’re not in the bedroom. You know this because Jeongguk can’t even look your way when you’ve stripped, but you’re shivering like he’s staring.  You step into the tub before he can back out. He doesn’t come in till the water’s running.

You like it hot. Jeongguk—not so much by the looks of his hesitation, so you compromise with a slight shift of the knob and a switch in place so he’s under the pelt of water. He’s all hard muscle under your hands. “Hope you like cherry blossom.”

He doesn’t say anything. Grabbing the loofah you spurt your pink soap, lathering it on his chest first. Jeongguk just stares. “I really missed you,” he says.

You nod. Nodding fast to keep yourself from thinking too hard because then you might start getting soft. “Me too,” you croak out. “Want me to wash your hair?”

Jeongguk just brushes his lips against yours in answer. You’ve just reached over his shoulders to get the back of his neck but he forces you back into the tiles, back inundated with cold hardness and there’s no room for complaint when your tits press against Jeongguk’s skin like this. He groans a desperate sound into your pliant mouth. “I—I don’t wanna wait anymore.”

You pause. “For what?”

“I don’t—know—I—just having you here again. Makes me want to do everything.”

You are enveloped in mist and so much longing. “Let me finish then we’ll—go back.” You don’t know if you want to focus southward because one look at his dick and you’ll fall to your knees. “Turn around.”

He does. The glass of the divider fogs up in your intimacy. You give a half-hearted scrub along his skin, focusing on the grime you can’t see. Can’t think.

“Okay you know—I think we’re good,” you say, voice tight.

“Come here.” Jeongguk spins to find you again, a hard kiss into you and you feel his dick press up against your stomach. “Towels.”

“Turn off the shower.” You push open the door, shaking legs dripping onto the floor as you scramble to wrap yourself in warmth other than Jeongguk. He grabs the other one, quick passes over his skin before he drops it to the floor and nearly bowls you over to get you out into the bed room.

It’s bright. Jeongguk reads your mind. “Can I—shut the blinds?”

“Please.”

He goes to twist the plastic while you dry off the last remnants of water clinging to your skin, and before you know it Jeongguk has you lain flat across the tangled blankets, legs dangling from the side of the bed. “God I tried really hard to have a normal morning with you but I—just can’t anymore.” He kneels over you. “Please tell me you feel the same.”

You could go on about how quick the one-eighty was. From your thoughts about breakfast to this absolutely insatiable need for your boyfriend to insert whatever valid body part he could use into your pussy. But you and Jeongguk are never conventional, and going too fast is an illusion now. 

You have each other again, and no one’s counting the seconds anymore.

“Will you fuck me?” You ask.

“Yes,” he decides, and he unwraps the towel you’d clung onto before pressing downwards and caving into your lips. “I—have never wanted you so goddamn bad in my life, oh my god.”

“Good,” you choke on your breath because Jeongguk slips down your throat with his tongue and a pucker of his lips. “Ah—!”

A bloom of your slick runs through your cunt when he sucks hard on your skin, thumbs a shy presence on your breasts but they peak under the pressure. “You have the cutest tits,” he says. 

“Shut up.” You flare with embarrassment. “You can—be more rough.”

Jeongguk twists your nipples and you pant. “Like that?”

“Suck on them too. Make it—hurt.” His eyes flutter, determined in your command. Mouth a hot suction, laving you with his spit. His teeth graze in a bite and you moan. “Fuck—yeah. That’s so good…”

He stays like this: feeding into your sounds with sloppy grips of his tongue, suckling till your tits pop out his mouth and your hands find the nape of his neck in desperation. “Ugh—please—”

Jeongguk slurps on a nipple. “Get up there.”

You scramble up the bed, comfortably nestled in the centre and Jeongguk’s fingers go to spread your pussy,   cheeks heating in the sound of wet. He sighs.

“Do you want to cum now?”

You dip your head. “Please.”

He settles on his stomach, diving in to latch onto your clit, sucking that has your head thrown back further with every inch he covers with the jerk of his tongue. Honed in on the dangerous tip that could have you teetering over in a second and your hips pull back, but his hands take your bucking and locks you down to his attention. Too much so and now you wail. “Oh my g—od.”

Curses caught in the grit of your teeth because now he licks the stretch of your cunt like he’s thirsty. Jeongguk’s good at making you want more when you don’t know what means. “Gonna—use a finger.”

“Fuck, yeah. Yeah.” He curls in and up, a sweet crevice touched. Eyes rolling back as you puff. “Holy fu-uck yeah, finger it.”

“Wanna beg?” He suggests. Challenging.

“You’re asking me to?”

“I’m begging you to,” Jeongguk snickers.

“Then—” you settle up on your elbows, watching the minute thrusts into your cunt like a lazy cartoon— “please use another finger. And—make me cry this time.”

His eyes bulge in your confidence. Pulls out; now there’s two hard intrusions and it digs into a sweeter part inside, a touch that has you keening right into the pillow, drool smearing on the sheet. Clit sitting pretty on his wet tongue and you’d let him have it all day if he asked. Then Jeongguk thrusts in a drill so hard you vibrate. “O-O-Oh my fuuuuuuck—”

He curves into your loudness. “So fucking sexy,” he praises, rushing right through you and onto his fingers. “So wet—”

“Ugh—!” Your sobbing isn’t a tearful one but the scratch in your throat is smarting. Jeongguk swipes right over your nub. Leans up, fingers still a consistent presence and now his tongue is teasing yours, a muscle spasm more than anything and you can’t fucking breathe.

“Sit on my face,” he says.

“You—really?”

“I might cum.” Oh. He looks at you, eyes a wonder of pleasured agony. Probably because he’d been grinding into the sheets like last time but now you’re even more gone.

“Okay,” you gulp, and Jeongguk rolls over. Knees above his shoulders, using his elbows to slide along the mattress till you’re settled comfortably over his eager mouth. “You okay?”

“Fuck yeah.” He pulls on your thighs until his neck doesn’t strain up anymore, a stretch you can ignore if only to feel the traction of his rough love on your sensitivity. “This is—so hot.”

“Are you—pulling on pornographic roots right now?”

He hums into a suction. “Yeah.”

“What else have you thought about?” You can’t see his entire face from your view, but his forehead is scrunched. Thinking hard for you.

“Nothing—crazy,” he says. He kisses your leaking cunt. “Always wanna make you feel good. But it’d be hot if I choked you, yeah.”

“Oh—”

“Whatever you like,” Jeongguk decides. “I like whatever you like.”

“I would like it if you made me cry,” you contend.

He doesn’t say anything else. Jeongguk squeezes your ass, neck straining to get you dribbling on the tip of his tongue, pleasure pulled from the bottom of your stomach into moaning so loud you’re worried for the thinness of your walls. “Oh my god I’m close—don’t stop—”

Your pussy grinds right into it. His fingers are lax on your skin like he’s given up if it means you feed into your own demise. And you do: grating all your nerves from Jeongguk’s insistence into your sex and your hands tangle into his hair. “Oh fuck I’m—Jeongguk—!”

The feeling settles heavy in your pussy. Taken with a vehemence you’d praise forever and Jeongguk is nothing but passionate, a power translated through all his work and one he insists on when he paints your cunt like it’s his favourite thing to do. His hands tighten their grip on your ass, nearly falling over when his tongue slides like that—

“I’m cumming—oh my god I’m—fuck!”

Your eyes sting. It bursts—starting on Jeongguk’s tongue and spreading so fast you can’t tell up from down.  Moans wrenched from your chest and you can’t catch your breath, even when you push yourself off from Jeongguk because you can’t stop riding into it. “Ah—oh fuck.” You’re sniffling.

“Babe wait did I actually make you cry?”

“Yes you idiot, come here.” And Jeongguk crawls over you, kiss-ready, lips wet on yours. “Do you—is it—are you okay? Do you wanna try now?”

“Sure,” he says. “I just—might not last too long.”

“We take it slow,” you say. He nods. “Got condoms?”

Jeongguk looks sheepish but he nods again. “Please don’t ask me why I have them on me.”

“I’m asking why you have them on you.”

He groans. “Let me just—get them from my bag.” And he runs, hard penis and all, outside to the bag he’d left outside in your haste to the bed. He’s not even gone for two seconds before he has the string of foil in his hand. “Remember there was a party last night? Taehyung gave them to me just in case—you know. Something happened.”

“Good friend. Do you—have lube too?” 

Jeongguk pales. “No.”

“Come here,” you order instead, because you’re ridiculously wet anyhow. He gets closer, lying down when you push his chest down. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. Just wanna kiss you.”

He lets you. You stay in this moment, a precursor to a new era if you were being dramatic about it. But having him so soft and yielding under you like this makes you want to enjoy it, bit by bit. “I love you,” he says.

You mold into him. “I love you too.” Reaching over for one of the foils, you tear it as Jeongguk stares with a still chest. The condom rolls easily. “Okay?”

“Yep.”

Then you sit on top of him, your own breath caught in the butterflies jumbled in your stomach, a flit when his hands come to rest on your thighs. Nerves tangling with his and you feel the low tremors in his body. Your pussy glides along his dick lying pretty on his stomach. You tangle your hands with his. “Don’t be nervous,” you whisper.

Jeongguk gulps. “Just—kiss me again.”

You lean back down, his hands tightening yours when you meet him again. “Are you okay?”

His eyes are closed. “Yes—yes. You can put it in. Please.”

“Just—say the word and I’ll stop.”

He nods.

There’s a lump in your throat. You want it to be good for him. The griping all his friends did had done a great deal for your sex life, yeah. But the point of his comfort was crossed so many times you feared he’d back out by this time. And now he waits: waits for your go, on your own time, because the last thing he wanted to do was pressure you too. You know it in his attention, his quiet insistence on making you cum first. His patience for you to come back to him. Waiting so that you could get comfortable before he did, because he’s only ever comfortable when you are. 

You hold the base of his dick, tip straight below your core, positioned at the height of both your breaths.

You sink down.

It’s a scarcity, to feel this good from the get-go. A prodding that pinches a little stretches you right, Jeongguk’s length gloved in your heat, so much heat because he groans. “Oh my god.”

“Is that—okay?”

“Yes—”

His hands find your hips when your knees drop down even further. Slow, slow, slow; so wet because he makes you feel it—until you bottom out. Jeongguk shivers. “Tell me—when I can move.”

You watch his eyebrows scrunch up, teeth gritting when you shift to ease the weight on your legs. “I’m good. I’m good, please move, fuck.”

You do. You pick up to an easy pace, not straining yourself but enough for the tip of his dick to hit a spot in your gut that has you cooing. Your hands find his chest. “Ooh—fuck yeah.”

“Is it good—for you?” Jeongguk pants, bucking his hips when he watches your tits bounce. 

“Yeah. Feels so good…” You trail off, getting used to the feel of something so much thicker than his fingers. A burn you can’t say you haven’t missed, teasing your insides and you squeeze.

“Baby—that—fuck—” He’s sweating. His forehead shines, hair caught on his skin. His chest is a flushed, wet where your palms meet him because you’re getting a little winded now. But the little grunts he lets out every time you bounce is enough to keep you going. 

“Do you think—you can cum like this?”

His grin is sheepish. “N-No.”

You opt for a closer grind then. “How do you want me?”

“Your back,” he says, hesitant. “Let me—fuck you from the edge of the bed.”

You can do that. You lift up till his dick lies wet on his belly, sheets a mess under your bum when you let Jeongguk get up to move you the way he wants. He stands, one knee on the mattress as he spreads your legs, pussy served like it’s his to take. Makes a grab for his dick; jostles around a bit on your clit to see your hole tighten, stomach clenched. 

He presses in slow just to see you shiver. In control of your pleasure again, and you sigh into the sheets. 

“Oh my god.” You grasp the blankets, elbows strong to watch what you now know is the visual of Jeongguk fucking you. A little stilted in his rhythm, but only because he’s getting used to the feel of your pussy like this. 

You don’t care for the semantics of proper fucking. As long as his hips meet your ass in the beat you can only call nasty. The squelch of your arousal is loud. “Fuck—baby…”

“Yeah—feels so good.” Buried deep in your walls and maybe you could learn the ridges of his dick like this: lain here for him to use, cunt fit only for his pleasure. A position you’d gladly take everyday from now on because fuck if this isn’t heavenly. 

You know he feels it too when his chest picks up in his panting, dick a piston now and you mewl. 

“Yeah—faster, baby—like that—!”

“Shit—” Smearing your walls with your own slick, made for him to dirty. A push so vigorous you would be sliding if it weren’t for Jeongguk’s tight hands on you, and all you can do is take it. “Babe I’m close—”

And he bends down, kissing you with a pant into your mouth because he’s getting spent, efforts all going into your pleasure. He still thrusts. “Cum. Cum when you can, fuck.”

“What about—”

You shut him up with another press of your lips. “I’m fine.”

He leaves it at that. Jeongguk leans up again, adjusting one more time till he’s got both knees on the bed, cock a heady presence inside your sex and he gives it hard now. You’re trying not to squeeze so hard around him but it’s getting difficult; seeing him so focused, his eyes wild, sweat dripping on his shoulders. Sweltering in your heat and love and novelties—defiling him but in the best way possible. “I love you,” he chokes. “Oh my god I might—”

“Give it to me,” you whisper.

He does. Your pussy is still in Jeongguk’s indulgence, his whines escalating until he groans out: “I’m cumming—”

Jeongguk slams into you, a final push for your core and he croons into your neck. Streams of his pleasure in the form of a long sigh, his pulses inside. And maybe you’re dumb but you’re laughing and crying again, arms wrapping around his neck, swaying him back and forth as he calms down. 

“How was that?” You ask.

He’s crying, too. You wipe his under-eye when he takes one more kiss. “Best ever,” he says. “I’ll make you cum.”

“You don’t need to—” But his thumb is already on your clit, still wet from his doing and you force your hips to stillness— “Jeongguk no—”

“I wanna feel you cum around my dick,” he says, and the plea is enough for you to tighten and cry even more. It hurts, a nudge of pain but it’s already beginning to spread into pleasure—

“Jeongguk—”

You cum into his kiss, walls clenching into an orgasm so sweet your toes tingle. A ripple of pleasure running through all of you and he moans like he feels it too. 

Out of breath. It’s hot under his skin.

“So. Who do we tell first?”

Jeongguk laughs. “Maybe we can decide over breakfast.”

And you feel something, better than orgasmic bliss, the pleasure of a tryst: the simplicity of being in love. Jeongguk makes you feel like you can do anything.

“Eggs?” You ask.

His tongue is sweet. “Eggs.”