#I WISH I COULD SIMPLY SLAM MY FUCKING HEAD AGAINST THE WALL UNTIL MY BRAINS LEAK OUT

[graveyarrdshift]

[thearvariblues]

Sing Me a Song

“You Geralt of Rivia’s bard?”

Jaskier looks up from his notepad and grins at the man who’s just sat at the opposite side of the table.

“Technically, I used to be,” the bard says, taking a sip of his ale. “We had a tiny misunderstanding last year. I’m sure he’s gonna be fine, though, I’m just giving him some time to cool down and wallow in self-pity.”

Jaskier frowns, because his brain has finally caught up with his mouth and informs him that even though the man who asked the question is very pretty (and he is – a bit short, but lean and clearly very agile, brown-skinned, with dark, wavy hair and stunningly unnatural green eyes), he also has got two big, scary swords strapped to his back, way too many scars and has, in fact, only one green eye, the other being covered by an eye patch, presumably missing.

And then there’s the Cat school medallion on his chest.

As Geralt would say… fuck.

“Unless you’re here to kidnap me and torture me to lure him into a trap. If that’s the case, I’ve never met a Geralt of Rivia in my life. Also, if you harm a hair on my head, he will hunt you down and kill you, very slowly and painfully. Just a heads up,” Jaskier smiles, utterly failing to sound at least a little bit threatening.

“Thanks for the warning,” the Witcher laughs. “But I actually need you to write me a song.”

“Sorry, I’m afraid this bard already has a Witcher to praise,” Jaskier protests, shaking his head firmly.

“Ugh. Who says I want praise?” the man says, making a face. “I just can’t seem to find a friend of mine, so I need to make him find me.”

“With a song? Do I look like a fucking pied piper?” Jaskier smirks.

“A little, yeah.”

“Fair enough. What’s in it for me?”

“What do you think is going to happen once Geralt hears that his bard has found himself a new muse?” the Witcher grins.

“Oh,” Jaskier says, chuckling. “Oh, but that’s good.”

“Are you in, then?”

“Absolutely. And, uhm… What did you say your name was?”

“By the gods, where are my manners?” the Witcher laughs. “I’m Aiden.”

*

Geralt places two tankards of ale on the table and sits down with a grunt.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting old, Wolf,” his brother Lambert smirks and promptly pulls one of the tankards closer. “Because that almost sounded like Vesemir when he’s trying to get up from his chair.”

“You’re so fucking funny,” Geralt murmurs.

“I know, right?” Lambert grins, tucking a strand of curly red hair behind his ear. “So, how’s life on the Path without your beloved bard?”

“Not my bard.”

“So pretty fucking terrible, eh?” Lambert chuckles.

“Fuck off, Lambert.”

“You’re being very nice and friendly today, you know?”

“I bought you a drink. So shut up and… drink.”

Lambert shrugs and for once does what he’s told. Within a few seconds, half of the tankard’s content vanishes.

“If it’s any consolation, life without my Cat is also pretty fucking unbearable,” he says then.

“Hm.”

“Oh, really, Geralt? You’re using your famous hm against me? Me, your brother?!”

Geralt groans.

“By the gods… Why can’t I just run into Eskel for once? Why does it always have to be you?”

“You’re just lucky, I guess.”

“Lucky. Yeah.”

Lambert rolls his eyes and focuses on his ale again – until the local bard grabs his lute and starts playing a slow, romantic ballad. Lambert growls.

“Fuck, I hate that song!”

“Why?” Geralt blinks, because he’s never heard the song before, and to be perfectly honest, it doesn’t really sound that bad.

“A brown-skinned woman with dark hair who’s seemingly killed, then comes back to life already plotting her revenge, only to find out that her lover’s already avenged her? Always reminds me of Aiden.”

“Aiden wasn’t exactly… A woman, was he?”

“He also hasn’t come back to life, as far as I know,” Lambert mutters.

“Who wrote it?” Geralt frowns, listening carefully. “It sounds like Jaskier’s work.”

“Some Master Dandelion. Never heard of him, but it seems he’s very popular now.”

“Hmmm…”

“Oh, not again!” Lambert groans.

“It just… It really does sound like Jaskier’s song.”

“You just fucking miss the bard, Geralt, that’s all.”

“No. No, I actually think…”

“That might be exactly the problem,” Lambert says and places his empty tankard back on the table. “The second round’s on me.”

*

“Seems like your plan’s not working as intended,” Jaskier comments. He’s spent weeks traveling with Aiden, and they still haven’t even heard about another Witcher trying to find them.

“I’m aware,” Aiden mutters, chewing his dinner without even noticing its taste – which is, honestly, probably for the best. “Could you be, like… less subtle?”

Jaskier shrugs.

“I suppose.”

“Fine,” Aiden nods. “Do it.”

*

“It’s a man now,” Geralt frowns, listening to the song he’s heard countless times already. “That’s new.”

“Looks like Master Dandelion might like to, uhm, dual wield,” Lambert snorts.

“It still sounds like Jaskier’s work.”

“Does Jaskier like to dual wield?”

“Hmm,” Geralt says dreamily.

“All the more reason to apologize, then, eh?”

“Oh, shut up, Lambert…”

*

“Still not working!” Aiden groans. He’s been waiting for three months for his Wolf to find him, and to no avail.

“I could, you know… Try something more obvious,” Jaskier offers.

“Please.”

*

“It’s a cat now,” Geralt blinks. “Dark-skinned, dark-haired… cat.”

Lambert sighs.

“Yeah, I hate those fucking metaphors.”

*

“I’m starting to think I should have just… kept trying to find him,” Aiden sighs, staring out of the tavern’s window.

Jaskier, cheeks still flushed from his performance, downs his ale and shakes his head.

“Don’t give up hope just yet,” he says. “I’ve already made a few changes to the song.”

“Oh, have you?” Aiden smirks. “Does it now say Lambert, I’m alive you moron, stop hiding and fucking find me?”

“Well, not yet… But almost.”

“Great. I can’t wait to hear it.”

*

Lambert is staring at yet another local bard singing the fucking ballad. He doesn’t even blink. Geralt is getting a little worried that his brother’s brain might have actually exploded.

“It says a Cat Witcher now,” he says, hoping it would get a reaction out of Lambert.

The redhead finally blinks. That’s probably good.

“A Cat Witcher who comes back to life only to find out his Wolf lover has already avenged him,” Geralt adds.

Lambert blinks again.

“And you know, I’m almost sure that this Master Dandelion is just Jaskier’s new alias.”

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Lambert mutters when the song finally comes to its end.

“Which one of them?” Geralt smirks.

“Both of them!” Lambert growls. “I swear to gods, if I find out your stupid bard stole my Cat…”

“Excuse me, madam,” Geralt says to the innkeeper who’s just brought them their dinner. “Where did your bard learn this song?”

“That sappy ballad?” the innkeeper frowns. “From this Master Dandelion himself. He passed through the town last week with a Witcher.”

“And Master Dandelion…”

“You know the bard that calls himself Jaskier? It’s him with a fancy hat on,” she smirks.

“About this Witcher,” Lambert growls. “Does he look like in the song?”

“Pretty much, yeah. Kind of small for a Witcher, and almost too pretty, you know, but we had a little griffin problem and he slayed that beast like it was nothing, so…”

“I’m so gonna kill them both,” Lambert murmurs while Geralt has to try very hard not to chuckle.

“Would you happen to know where were they heading?” he asks.

“I would,” the woman says and looks at the Witcher expectantly.

“I see,” Geralt sighs. “You have another monster problem, don’t you?”

“Well. It turns out the griffin probably had a mate…”

“Of course it fucking did,” Geralt nods and picks up his fork. He simply refuses to deal with this with an empty stomach…

*

Jaskier critically eyes the clothes he’s picked for tonight’s performance.

“What do you think, Aiden?” he asks his companion. “Isn’t the purple a bit too much? It’s a small town, after all. Wouldn’t the steel blue look better?”

“I don’t know, I like the red one best,” Aiden shrugs from his spot on the bed.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Reminds you of Lambert’s hair,” Jaskier says, rolling his eyes. “Melitele’s tits, I wish he’d find us already, because this is getting really–”

As if on cue, the door of the room slams open and a big, red-haired man walks in.

“You fucking bitch!” he yells when he sees Aiden.

The dark-haired Witcher beams and gets to his feet.

“Lambs!”

“Oh. Okay. That was fast,” Jaskier nods.

Lambert growls and grabs Aiden by the collar.

“Asshole!” he hisses. “I fucking mourned you!”

“Oh, honey, that’s so sweet,” Aiden smiles.

Lambert pushes him against the wall, so hard that Aiden grunts.

“I cried for you!”

“In my defense, it wasn’t exactly my fault,” Aiden smiles.

Jaskier inches towards the door.

“I guess I’ll just… leave you two to it.”

Needless to say, Lambert ignores him completely.

“I fucking avenged you!”

“Yes, that was very kind of you,” Aiden grins, utterly unaffected by Lambert’s angry face so close to his own. “You saved me a lot of trouble.”

Lambert groans, buries his face in Aiden’s shoulder and sighs deeply.

“You fucker,” he mutters.

“Yeah, I missed you too, puppy,” Aiden smiles, wrapping his arms around Lambert.

Jaskier, who’s already standing in the doorway, places his hand on his heart and takes a deep breath.

“Oh,” he whispers. “I shall write the most beautiful ballad about this… Ow!”

He’s unceremoniously dragged out of the room and this time it’s his turned to be slammed against the wall by a big, angry Witcher – but this one is white-haired and dressed all in black.

“Geralt!” Jaskier exclaims, his face brightening up.

“You won’t write a fucking thing,” Geralt growls.

“Is that so? May I ask why, dear heart?”

“Because you’re mine. My bard. And if I ever find out you’re writing about another Witcher again–”

“Then what?” Jaskier asks, cocking his head. “But before you answer, I’d like to remind you that I am not yours anymore, as you have made it quite clear on the mountain that you are not interested in having me as a companion–”

Jaskier is effectively shut up by Geralt’s lips pressing against his with determination that makes it absolutely clear that Geralt hasn’t merely lost his balance and happened to be falling in Jaskier’s general direction.

“Mine,” he growls.

“Well,” Jaskier sighs, slipping his fingers into Geralt’s hair. “When you put it like that… Fuck the mountain, I suppose.”

“Fuck the mountain,” Geralt agrees. “But I’m sorry. For what I said.”

“Apology very much accepted,” Jaskier laughs. “I’d ask you to fuck me, but I’m afraid my room is currently… occupied.”

Lambert’s loud moan only confirms Jaskier’s statement.

“Hm,” Geralt hums. “Do you think this tavern has a bath? I think I still have some griffin blood in my hair from last week.”

“Oh,” Jaskier purrs. “Oh, yes. And I’m sure I could get some chamomile oil…”

They hear another moan, this time Aiden’s.

“What are we waiting for, then?” Geralt grins and grabs Jaskier’s hand. “Come on, bard. We have some catching up to do…”

[keanureevesisbae]

You're on a roadtrip and in the middle of nowhere, your car breaks down. Obviously your phone died too - what happens next?

This, is very interesting and my horny brain figured out what would happen next 👀👀

Walter Marshall x fem!reader

Wordcount: 1.5k (yes, a lot happens)

Warnings: Fingering, squirting, unprotected sex 👀

‘Piece of shit,’ you mutter under your breath. You cannot believe this happened again and to make matters even worse, you're in the middle of fucking nowhere. Last time your car decided to break down, at least it happened downtown, meaning there were around five men who saw you hopelessly staring at your car, not knowing what to do and offered their help.

Now, you’re by yourself.

You grab your phone from the passengers seat, only to discover the most horrible thing that could ever happen to you.

Your battery died.

It’s probably around thirty minutes until you reach some sort of civilization and it’s getting darker and darker.

Oh no, is this how people get murdered?

Great, now you’re not only by yourself, but you also scared yourself by envisioning horrible scenario's. You pop the hood of the car, only to realize that everything looks the exact same and you have no idea where to start. Why do the problems have to be so complicated? If it were a flat tire, you probably would’ve managed to fix it, but this is on a whole new level of complex.

A car stops behind yours and your heart stops for a few seconds. Please don’t be a serial killer, please don’t be creepy in general. You peek around your car, only to see the very familiar truck. You’ve seen that car around in town, including the owner of it.

You watch him step out of the vehicle. His shoulders are broad, his strut is confident and his brows are furrowed, but that is nothing new. When he sees it’s you, one corner of his mouth curls up. ‘Sweetheart,’ he says and you can’t help but slightly giggle when hearing that nickname.

Detective Walter Marshall is a very well loved customer at the cafe you work at, mostly because he comes by every day and has become a reliable income. He always orders one cappuccino to go and sometimes he goes a little crazy and orders a cookie with it as well. He rarely smiles, but recently you noticed that whenever you took his orders, you not only earned yourself a very lovely 'Sweetheart', but also a small smile. Sometimes, he would even go as far to asking you what your plans were for after work and when you answered with whatever the plans were, he would simply nod and tell you to not have too much fun without him.

It was cheeky and slightly flirty, but it was always within the four walls of the cafe and nothing happened. You wished though. Walter Marshall was a very desired bachelor in town.

‘Hi detective,’ you say with a smile.

‘Car trouble?’

You nod. ‘Yes, it’s just that my car gives up from time to time.’

‘I see, I see.’ He rolls up his sleeves and stands next to you, examining everything. He starts to say something about some sort of liquid/fuel-thingy, but you have no idea what he means. Not only are you distracted because it’s too complicated, but also because of his outstanding beauty. No man in town tips to him.

Of course you fantasized about him, just like everyone else. There was quite the age gap between you, a rough fifteen years, but that never stopped you from having the most disgusting, NSFW dreams about him.

‘What?’ you ask him, when he looks at you, obviously waiting for an answer.

‘You weren’t listening,’ he chuckles. ‘That’s okay. What I said was that it’s too late to call for a tow truck and that I can’t fix it right away. We can leave your car here and I can drive you to your place if you want.'

'But what if it gets stolen?'

'How?' he asks. 'The car doesn't work, right?'

You shake your head. 'Maybe it's for the best. It's a stupid car anyway. The only reason I have it, because I got it for free.'

'Maybe that should've been a red flag. Free cars are rarely reliable.'

You scoff. Dammit, you hate it when other people are right. 'You sure you want to give me a lift?'

Walter scoffs. ‘I’m not gonna leave you in the middle of nowhere by yourself.’ He closes the hood of my car and adds to it: ‘Besides, I don’t want anything to happen to my favorite barista. You’re the only one who hasn’t messed with my cappuccino.’

You shouldn’t giggle or feel nervous, yet you do both.

‘Come on, go grab your stuff and we’ll go.’

You walk over to the driver’s side and lean over the seats to grab both the key from the ignition and your bag. Then you realize that you are wearing a pretty short skirt and your underwear is a bit on the flimsier side. You hear an approving hum from behind you. Part of you wants to die of shame, the other part however makes sure things heat up in between your thighs.

When you get out of the car and close the door, Walter has his arms crossed in front of his chest. ‘One condition, sweetheart,’ he says, taking the bag from your hand.

You frown. ‘For what?’

‘For me to give you a lift back home.’ He holds out one of his hands and says: ‘That piece of fabric you call your underwear, please.’

You blink your eyes once, twice and the universe how many times after that, mostly because you cannot believe those words—those dirty words—left his lips. His expression barely changed. It’s the emotionless look you are so used of seeing, but the words that take you by surprise.

You have had many dirty daydreams, but handing over your underwear in the middle of nowhere wasn’t one. You hook your thumbs behind the waistband of your panties and push it down your legs. When you step out of them, you hand them to Walter, who nods in approval.

The two of you walk towards the passenger’s side of his truck, when he grabs you by your hip and turns you around. With your back pressed against the door, he lets his hand slide underneath your skirt between your thighs. Your lips slightly parted, as his rough fingers knead the soft flesh of your thighs. ‘Do you have any idea how much I’ve been wanting this?’ he asks you. ‘It’s always those pretty smiles,’ he continues, ‘the way you lean over the counter in those tops with a deep neckline and how you bite your lip when you’re focused. Have you got a clue of what that does to me?’

‘No detective, I don’t,’ you whimper.

Walter smiles at your desperation, as you’re already grinding against his fingers. Fuck, he knew deep down what you could be, but this he didn’t expect. He dips in one finger, but when he discovers how wet you are, how ready you are for him, he pushes in another.

Your pleasured moan fills the emptiness around you. You’re a loud one too, Walter thinks to himself. You sure are the jackpot. His fingers brush against all the right spots. He watches your eyes rolling back, your breathing become ragged and your thighs and walls clenching together. ‘Beg for it,’ he says.

Instantly, you obey. ‘Detective, please, please, can I cum?’

There is no way you are truly real.

He barely has the change to answer, when you tumble over the edge. When you have to hold onto him since you can’t trust your own legs. When you squirt passed his fingers down your legs. The sobs and strained moans that leave your lips, make him grin in satisfaction. He roughly slams his lips against yours and within a second you melt against him.

He pulls out his fingers and without letting go of your lips for one millisecond, he opens the door of his truck. ‘They always say you are such a lovely young lady. So innocent and sweet,’ he says to you. ‘But you’ve got a dirty streak.’

You bite your lip and let out a sweet giggle when he turns you around, bending you over the passengers seat of the truck, your toes barely finding the ground. As Walter uses one hand to knead the soft flesh of your ample behind, the other unzips his pants and pulls out his cock. After pumping it a few times, he lines himself up at your throbbing cunt, before pushing himself in entirely.

The sounds that leave your lips, make him go feral. Part of him wants to take the time, worship your body and look you in the eye as you fall apart in his arms. But that part doesn’t have the upper hand now. The part that wants to destroy you, rail you, fill you is completely taking over.

There is no stopping now. Skin slapping against skin. His groans mixed with your cries of pleasure. He can feel it, your warm walls that feel so good around him, start to squeeze his hard member. ‘Detective, I’m close again,’ you wail.

‘Let it go, sweetheart,’ he tells you and on cue you start to shudder, your orgasm washing over you and that’s enough for him to reach his limits. He holds your hips tightly, probably imprinting you with some bruises, as he paints you from the inside.

He gives himself a few seconds to regain himself, before he pulls out and watches it all drip down your legs. You’re limb, barely able to stand on your legs. Your skirt is still bundled up near your waist, revealing your beautiful round bottom.

He grabs you by your arm and pulls you against his body, pressing his lips on yours. ‘You’re gonna make a mess on my seat,’ he says.

‘You’re fault,’ you mumble against his lips, only for you to earn a sharp slap on your behind. ‘Sorry, detective,’ you whisper. ‘How— Where do I sit then?’

He smiles. ‘Right on my cock as I drive you to my place, because we’re not done yet.’

✨ Okay, I'll see myself out now ✨

[lovesanmotion]

ateez reacts: in a serious arguement with s/o

💌 This is: requested

Hongjoong: 

When you met Hongjoong, it was the happiest day of your life. Everytime you get sad, your brain takes a trip down memory lane and reminds you of the day when you met him. Of course it brings a smile on your face. However, a happy memory can no longer bring happiness to you. 

Arguement after arguement, nothing seems to be coming to peace between you and Hongjoong. One heated night, tensions arose once more between the two of you, arguing how Hongjoong so desperately wants a child but you say you still weren’t ready. 

“We’ve been married for three fucking years! If only I knew our marriage is going into a shithole, I shouldn’t have married you or should have opted for a second marriage!” Hongjoong slams his fist onto the wooden table that broke and slid down on the floor. Tears brimmed your eyes at the impact and weight of his words. You felt guilty and to blame for. 

“Y-Y/N- I didn’t mean that..” Hongjoong spoke, his features softening as he tries to approach you. But you looked up to him, your visions blurry at the tears ooling in your eyes. 

“No it’s okay. It’s really okay. It looks like you’ve made up your mind and why should I get in the way? I hope you’re happy with the choice you’ve made.” You smiled at him, despite the pain and emotional stress you’ve pent up for weeks, you let it all out by crying yourself to sleep, And when the morning comes, you quietly slip out of the shared apartment and Hongjoong’s life. 

Seonghwa: 

Days spent with Seonghwa always felt like walking into a flowery road that would lead you two into happiness. And the road is endless, you were sure that he’s the one for you. But you spoke too soon. 

Now, throwing plates are being thrown at one another, dodging those plates as they hit on the walls and picture frames. As Seonghwa throws a plate, it narrowly misses you and smashes into the picture frame that you took on your first date. And suddenly, the world made you two stop and stare and take in everything that happened for the past few minutes. Neither of you two could speak, let alone look at each other in the eye. What happened, happened. And now the silence spoke for the two of you. 

Yunho: 

Your parents were against you dating Yunho. Why? They know for a fact that relationships between an idol and non idol partner were uncommon and would never work due to the fact that the idol’s schedules are hectic and almost has no room for them to breathe into their personal lives. But you still wanted to be with Yunho. At the same time, Yunho’s parents were aginst him dating you as well. Why? To put it simply, you are non idol. They want someone for him who walks down the runways or sings in sold out arenas, but you didn’t fit in any category. 

And lately, it seemed to you that Yunho was slowly giving in to his parents’ wishes. The photos he uploads on his Instagram stories includes different women every night, all of them are not like you. It pains you that this silent arguement kept on going between you two. And one day, while on a walk with Yunho, you stopped walking. You were somehow hoping that he would stop from his tracks and look back at you, if you were catching up to. But to see him continue walking without even going back to look at you is already enough to know where you two are heading. 

Yeosang: 

Yeosang coming into your life was the best thing that has ever happened to your existence up to day. Though you two have different worlds, you solely depended your life and happiness to him. And the world seemed to be in favor of you, after a year of dating, he got down on one knee and married you in front of hundreds of people. You were the happiest, nothing in this world could ever make you sad, as long as Yeosang’s beside you. 

But what if your world’s the one that decides to hurt you? Weeks after the marriage, Yeosang had a complete change of heart. He stopped coming home to you and was always spotted with a certain someone whenever he is outside. Whenever you confronted to him about it, he tells you not to worry. But you knew it was a lie and without knowing, you unconsciously raised your hand and swung it across his face. 

Was it enough to make him feel the pain you feel? Maybe not. But was worth it? Yes. You hated yourself for being not good enough, but most importantly, you hated yourself for depending your happines to a person. 

San: 

They say “nothing lasts forever, nothing stays the same”, but you love to disagree with that saying. What about the elderly couples who found love and comfort in each other and are growing old together? What about those couples who, after so many lifetimes, still find each other in different life times? 

Being young and naive has its cons, but you believe in the idea of love and all its forms. And that is what brought yout to believe that San is the one for you. Talking about your plans together, what you two would want to be in the long run, how many children he wants to have. You are young and naive but believe in the idea of love and all its forms. 

But when everything comes spiraling down, a false rumour spreading against you and San chooses to believe whoever spreaded the rumour and never listened to any word you say made you think about the saying. You never confronted San anymore as you let the relationship that you so love and dear fall apart before you. 

Mingi: 

When you got into a relationship with Mingi, you never suspected anything. Nothing was suspiscious and out of the place at all. But after a year of dating did it only made you realize why you were somehow suspiscious: not once did you two fight each other. You couldn’t believe how a year of dating Mingi and is the most healthiest relationship you have ever been. This is exactly what you wanted that others want too, and you were lucky and thankful at the same time. 

But you never got along with his friends, and so did your friends with him too. Whenever they would go out and drink, they would often talk about you and often make up lies about you. This went unnoticed to you, how toxic his friend group. Until one day, Mingi confronted you with all the things his friends have said about you. You argued back by saying how could he believe them instead of listening to what you have to say. THe night went on you two cursing at each other until it was inevitable to fix whatever you two had build together. 

Wooyoung: 

After being married to Wooyoung, you thought everything would fall into place. However, three months into the marriage, not one day did he initiate any itimacy with you. It was always the “good morningy/n” and “i’m going to work now”. He was never like that before when you two were dating, you wondered what caused him to be so cold towards you. 

“When can we expect a grandchild?” Your mother in law asks. 

“Having a child is too early. Y/N and I are still enjoying each other’s company, that’s what matters, mother.” Wooyoung smoothly answers for you. You felt small in the eyes of your in laws, unable to tell them the truth. 

“Do you really think its too soon for us to have a child?” You ask as you cleaned the dishes once his parents left. 

“Having a child is too much right now. My parents even want you to stop working.” 

And that’s when your soft facade cracked. First, Wooyoung has been so cold towards you, second, his family belittled you earlier and now they want to take away the career you’ve worked hard to get. You couldn’t help but let out a dramatic, long sigh and ranted everything that you’ve been feeling. 

“And do you think I have it nicely for me? That you think everything is going well for me? Maybe marrying you was a mistake.” 

Jongho: 

Jongho was never almost always home. He was always outside, impressing his bosses by taking them out to restaurants, treating them to lavish parties and women while you were left at home, having to take care of your eleventh month baby and worried sick if he’ll ever come home. As a good wife, you’ve made everything for him - cook his food, iron his home and work clothes, kept the side of this bed warm and always makes sure he still has hot water to use in the shower. But then, those things that you do for him tires you out now, and you no longer continue to do them for him. 

When he complains how he comes home with no food and a cold shower to use, you kept yourself quiet and moved around like a ghost. Jongho walks up to you and takes a hold on the back of your head, motioning you to turn around to him.

“If I ask you something, you should respond. I’m your husband.” He spat, but you looked at him with hate and pushed yourself off his hold.  

“Husband? You’re always and never home, if only your son could talk right now, he would always ask for you. It’s always me who runs around this house! And I got tired of waiting for you! You don’t how it feels, because you’re too busy kissing other people’s asses!” 

Jongho’s pushes you away from him, maybe a little too agrressive when you landed on the floor with a loud thud. That night, Jongho slept on the couch, and you on the little bedding inside the baby room. Maybe a divorce doesn’t sound so bad after all. 

[midgardian-whore]

This was requested by @lokis-petwhore i hope you love it, darling

Ye Zeltain Asa

I sat on the sofa, in the living room, of the cabin that I had been stranded in when the Odinson and Laufeyson boys dragged me to Asgard. They stated it was to keep me safe from whatever nonsense the Avengers were doing. Thor had already fucked off to help and here I was, stuck here with HIM. Loki.

Everything about him annoyed me. His stupidly arrogant and cocky attitude. The way he carried himself. Just...all of it.

The door opened and he walked through carrying firewood. I scoffed and picked up a book, and started where I left off. "Took you long enough." I muttered.

Loki whirled around with a sarcastic smile. "I am so incredibly sorry, Princess. I had no idea that I was not trudging through the woods fast enough for you. Please, do tell me what else I am doing that is not suited to your liking."

I rolled my eyes and flipped a page hatefully. "All I'm saying is, it is getting late and I'm hungry."

Loki threw the wood into the fireplace, obviously irritated. I smirked, thinking I had won by getting under his skin. He stood up, looking at me and striking a match. "How dare I be so careless?" He asked sarcastically, tossing it onto the wood. "What would the princess like for sustenance this beautiful evening?"

"I would like you to stop calling me that."

"Oh? You dislike being called exactly what you act like? An entitled little princess?"

I smiled. "Only when it's coming from an obnoxious, wannabe king who cares only about himself." I said, smugly.

Loki's lips pressed in a hard line. "Are you done? I have quite had it with this mindless back and forth." He said, meeting my eyes for the first time. I faltered for a split second. What was he doing? I stood up and tried to walk away but my feet wouldn't move. Butterflies were flying around in my stomach and my breathing hitched. "What have I done now to displease you?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm...erm...I'm going to bed. Sweet dreams." I blurted out after a couple long moments of trying to think of somethimg witty to say. I turned and ran to hide in the bedroom. "Sweet dreams?" I whispered to myself. Did Gods even sleep? I had never once caught Thor sleeping. But I hadn't seen any of the Avengers sleep either. I chalked it up to being a damn fool and stood staring at the door for a while. I even went to grab the knob. No. Turning around, I yanked my shirt angrily over my head. I was going to sleep it off and have full control of my senses tomorrow.

I turned and looked at the door one more time, jumping when I noticed Loki standing against the door. Covering my half naked chest with my arms, I cleared her throat. "I didn't hear you come in."

"Yes. Well, a god can be quite quiet when he wants to be. Would you not agree?" He asked, running a hand through his hair.

I nodded and looked at him. "MayIhelpyouwithsomething?" I asked, nervously, kicking myself mentally.

"I am terribly sorry. What have you said? I could not quite make it out." He smirked, devilishly and started sauntering towards me, sliding his tongue over his lip, slowly. He stopped when our bodies touched and grabbed my wrists to move them away from my chest. "Ye zeltain asa."

"Wha…" Before I could finish the word he broke the space between us by pressing his lips against mine and slowly guided me backwards, in the direction of the bed. The back of my legs hit the mattress and he slowly leaned his body forward, laying me down. Several different emotions ran through my head at once. I wanted to slap him across the face and call it a day. But a part of me wanted him to just kiss me forever. He kissed his way down to my neck and cupped my breasts with his hands.

"Y/N...do you want this?" He asked, staring longingly into my eyes. All I could do was nod. He had left my brain a puddle and I couldn't think of anything. "Good girl." He said, before taking my lips with his again. He inched his way down my body leaving a trail of kisses. He slid my jeans down and kissed each one of my thighs, before standing up. I let out a slight whine and he smiled. "All in due time, love." He said and snapped his fingers. His clothes vanished into thin air which let me get a very nice look at his body. This man...was in fact a god. In all aspects. I bit my lip and he smiled. "Where were we?"

He was on his knees on the floor in front of me. He grabbed my legs and jerked me to the edge of the bed, making me squeal in excitement. I closed my eyes as soon as I felt his fingers slide my panties down and I gasped when I felt a warm tongue on my clit. My hands immediately tangled into his hair and I tugged gently. He growled low in his throat which erupted a small moan from me. 

My eyes rolled and my back arched. I felt him smile against me and come to sit beside me on the bed. He helped sit me up and then pointed between his legs. "Kneel." 

I nodded and dropped to my knees. He grabbed my face roughly and stood me back up. "I only wanted to see if you would obey your master." He explained. 

Before I could contemplate what was happening he had hoisted me up, and spun me around until I slammed against the wall. "Are you ready for me?" He asked. I nodded. "Use your words, Princess." 

"Yes."

"Yes, I'm ready for you." 

I felt him rubbing his dick against my clit. "Well, now. That simply will not suffice, will it?" 

I moaned in agony at his teasing. "Please."

"Please, what?" He asked, attacking my neck with bites and kisses. 

Then it hit me. I knew exactly what he wanted. "Please, Sir. Fuck me." 

His head shot up to look into my eyes. "As you wish." He said, smiling and thrust hard into me. I lolled my head back and hit it on the wall. I felt fingernails dig into my ass cheeks and I dragged my fingers down his back, causing him to shiver. His lips met mine as I fought (and lost) for dominance. 

His moans against my lips grew louder. A thin layer of sweat broke out on both of our bodies. He moved his lips to my ear. "I am about to cum, Princess." He whispered. 

"Me too." I moaned again as his pace sped up before he stilled. He put his forehead against mine, breathing heavily. He removed himself from me and carried me to the bed. "If you do not mind, I would like to do this again in the morning."

"Yes, Sir." I said, still panting slightly. "What did you say earlier? Before…" I gestured to our naked bodies. 

"Ye zeltain asa?" 

"Yes. That." I said, furrowing my brows.

Loki smiled and gave me a kiss on the forehead. "I need you." My stomach fluttered again. I was alright with that.

@lokis-petwhore @tephi101

[whorecruxriddles]

first of all your username is A+ pls can I get a story where Tom uses the reader for sex and she lets him because she’s in love with him but after he refuses to date her seriously she ends things with him only for him to realise he’s been in love with her all along and wins her back

thank youuuu, i’m pretty proud of it!

also i loved this request so much, ahhhhhh

-

It had started out with an innocent kiss when you were fourteen. Your first kiss actually, though it hadn’t been Tom’s. He still made it feel special, told you it had been special.

Now, at sixteen, that stupid kiss had evolved into this; grinding against the wall of Tom’s prefect dormitory, his tongue practically down your throat as his fingers gripped bruises into your skin for what felt like the tenth time this week.

It was exciting, you liked it but something about your rendezvous always felt...hallow. Sure, Tom was always courteous, made sure that you felt safe, taken care of. If you were in his room, he’d even let you use his shower. But you worried that there was never any emotion other than the boy’s unrelenting anger behind it.

Your entire relationship with Tom was built around sneaking around, fucking where nobody would see him with you. He never held your hand or had a proper discussion with you in front of his friends. Everytime he enticed you with the notion of a real date, it ended with you blowing him in the bathroom at the Three Broomsticks or having sex on top of the homework he’d promised to help you with.

He was using you. But you knew that. You just didn’t want to believe it. Not when every beck and call made your heart flutter so.

Tom moved from your lips to your neck, immediately going for the spot just under your ear, knowing how much you liked it. You shivered, sighing a little and when he got the reaction he wanted, he moved on. You became hyper aware of his hand moving up your body, making to feel you up. Something in your stomach suddenly felt knotted and you pushed on his chest.

“Tom, stop.” You whispered, not loud enough for him to hear at first. His hand kept trailing and you caught his wrist, “Tom, stop it.”

This time he pulled away, a look of confusion and annoyance on his face. He studied you for a split second, trying to read what was wrong.

“Are you...W-what exactly are we?”

“What are we doing?” Tom repeated, narrowing his eyes at you. He chuckled coolly, “I thought it was rather obvious?”

You shifted under his gaze, suddenly embarrassed that you had asked such a thing. No, that was just Tom trying to put that in your head. You had all the right to ask, “I was just wondering since we’ve been doing, you know, this for a while now and I-I...”

Realization hit the Slytherin, leaving a cruel smirk in it’s wake.

“Do you have feelings for me, (y/n)?”

Oh Merlin, your cheeks felt as though they were on fire and you were resisting the urge to cry. When you didn’t answer, Tom leaned down, his lips nearly touching your ear, “Love is a weakness, my silly girl. People die for love. I have no intention of dying.”

Rolling your eyes, you squirmed out of his grip, shoving him away. Grabbing your school bag and house tie off his desk, you headed for the door but now before turning on your heels to glare at him.

“Then I don’t want to be your little doll anymore, Tom. Just leave me alone.”

And with that, you left, slamming the door behind you. You strutted past two of Riddle’s goons, Avery and Lestrange, who no doubt had been trying to listen in on your make out session with Tom. Both of their mouths were open, as if they hadn’t been expecting you to leave the one and only Tom Riddle high and dry, but you simply turned your nose up at them.

You didn’t even let anyone see you cry until you were back in your own room.

-

Three weeks had past since you broke things off with Tom. You were trying your best to avoid him at all costs, but that was difficult when it seemed that everyone was always pointing him out to you. Of course, for Tom, who specialized in coldness and cruelty, ignoring you had come easier than Charms class.

You just wanted some fresh air. You didn’t want to be around other people, not even your friends, lovely as they were. They kept trying to fix everything for you, handling you like you were fragile. Well, you weren’t. It was impossible to be Tom Riddle’s fuckbunny for three years and be easily breakable.

Eventually, you’d managed to find a spot to be alone. A nice patch of leaves underneath a tree that looked out across the Black Lake. It was cozy, peaceful even, albeit not the most comfortable. But it was quiet and lonely, just what you needed.

An unexpected crunching of leaves nearly made you drop the textbook you’d been pouring over. You looked over, expecting to come face to face with a curious animal but instead found Tom sitting beside you, blankly starring at the dark water of the lake. Sighing, you set your book down and leaned back against the tree, following his gaze.

After several long minutes of silence, Tom reached over and, for the first time ever, slipped his hand into your’s. You tensed as his fingers looped through your own, resting over your knuckles. Despite the shock, you didn’t feel the need to pull away but rather the urge to resist leaning your head on his shoulder.

“I didn’t realize that it’s easier to fall asleep when there’s another person next to you.”

You didn’t respond, you didn’t even look over. Tom continued in a nonchalant, monotone voice,

“You aren’t as much of a weakness as I thought you were-”

“I’m not interested in being wooed back into being your personal mattress, Riddle.”

Now you graced him with your acknowledgement, shooting him the coldest, most piercing glare you could muster. You were certain that you saw him flinch and his eyes moved from the lake to his lap.

“I’m not trying to have sex with you, (y/n), just hear me out.” He gritted, looking over to you with a pleading expression you’d never seen before, “I...I care about you in a way that I don’t really quite understand. I like being around you, I get frustrated when I can’t see you. You make me want to do better, to be better.”

Instinctively, your hand started to mirror his grasp.

“I was going to have Rosier deliver a flower to you but then Avery made some wisecrack about me going soft for you and I just...” Tom’s hold on your hand tightened and a look of anger flashed across his face, his jaw ticking, “I hate how they talk about you. How they make comments about your body and ask me if they can have a turn with you, only for them to ridicule me for letting you spend the night.”

“Oh.” Was all you could think to say, your brain frantically trying to process all the information Tom was pouring on you. He scooted closer to you, so his knee was brushing against your’s.

“They acted as though my...affection for you somehow makes me weaker, less respectable. Truthfully, (y/n), I let myself buy into it because you...you humble me, as it were.” He explained sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, “But they were wrong, of course they’re wrong, they’re idiots. You’re the only person I’ve ever met that understands me, that talks to me without acting like I’m a child or like a blithering oof. You make me stronger and I don’t particularly care who knows it.”

So this was Tom Riddle for ‘I’m sorry’. You weren’t sure how to react. There was such a stark contrast between the Tom you’d last spoke to and the one that sat before you now. There was more humanity in this one, in the gentleness of his touch, the softness of his eyes and the sincerity of his words. There was still all the pride, but with none of the icy harshness.

“Tom, I care about you too. I just need to know that you can show me that you care about me beyond just sex. I don’t want to be used anymore.” You whispered firmly, turning more towards him. He nodded slowly, bringing the hand not holding your’s up to cup your cheek.

“Whatever you wish for, I’ll give you. Affirmations, time, the moon. Anything.”

“All I want is you, Tom.”

Without another word, he leaned down and kissed you with an unfamiliar tenderness. It wasn’t like the hundreds of hungry kisses you shared before, it was more like that very first kiss from when you were fourteen. Innocent and sweet, unsure but confident.

You weren’t entirely convinced that Tom wasn’t still trying to use you, but if he was putting up an act this good, you figured you might as well enjoy the show.

[wornoutmouse]

OH MY IM SO FREAKIN LATE THIS IS MY FIRST TIME HAVING A DEADLINE. @ozarkthedog (really hope this is the right person)

Day one: Cum Play

As of recently, Tamaki has been acting,...aggressive. You don't blame him, you blame his company. Due to a secret mission off on the coast of Japan, he has been forcing himself to eat wolf hair.

"Babe, can you pass me the lemon pepper seasoning?" You say not looking up from the chicken you were massaging for tomorrow's barbeque. There was silence, "Babe-" you say looking up before feeling something hard and plastic hit you in the middle of the face. "O-Oh bunny! I'm s-s-so sorr-y!" Tamaki stuttered quickly coming to your side as you dropped to your knees in pain. You just closed your eyes and asked the Lord to give you strength. "I promised not to yell." you muttered to yourself.

"It's fine Tamaki." you jumped when Tamaki slammed his fist on the counter, making it crack. "I told you to call me Amajiki Y/N." You jerk your head up to look at your boyfriend. He has never raised his voice, much less said something with this much force unless he was dealing with a villain. You peek up at him, "Amajiki?"

Tamaki's face for once in his life was not red with constant embarrassment. Instead, he was calm and calculated as he looked down at you. You could tell he was breathing shallowly as his pupils dilated, and based on the whiteness of his knuckles, he was doing his best to not being aggressive.

You could feel the hostile energy filling the room by the second so, not wanted to stir any more altercations, you stood up and smiled, "To make it up to me, why don't you finish the seasoning and put it in the fridge to marinate?" You ask standing up, dusting imaginary dust off your legs to help calm your nerves

Before receiving an answer, you quickly turn around, and just as you step out of the kitchen you hear a low snarl from behind you, making you speed up.

When Tamaki is done your sitting on the couch watching TV and Tamaki slides onto the couch all the way at the end. You don't look but you can feel his eyes on you. "Are you scared Bunny?" he asks.

You quirk your eyebrow trying to feign ignorance to how your body was shaking. "Why would I be scared, this isn't a scary movie?" You look over at Tamaki to try and defuse whatever situation was rising, only to evolve into a coughing fit at the violent yellow glow Tamaki's eyes were emitting.

At this point you could see Tamaki's breathing was ragged, "T-Tamaki?" you asked, and at this point, you were stuttering like him. Tamaki shook with something indescribable, "I told you to call me Amajiki!" he growled and that snapped you out of your daze making you leap up startled ad you slowly walk backwards.

"Don't run from me, your only making it worse!" Tamaki said as he stood up looking more like a predator with prey with every step he took.

"The hell wrong with this nigga?" you think to yourself as you locked your shared bedroom door and slip under the bed. "Why the hell did we have to live at the top floor?!" you whisper to yourself wishing you could just jump out the window and head to Mirio's for the night.

You freeze when you hear the door jiggle and you sigh in relief when you realize it's the bathroom door on the other side of the wall. "Bunny.." Tamaki sighed almost sounding like a deranged moan. "He done lost his mind, I'm calling Mirio after this!" you think to yourself.

Tamaki get's to the bedroom door and jiggles the lock scoffing when he feels that it's locked. "That wasn't smart." he says before you hear a hard thump against the door making it click open. 'Did this man just use pressure to unlock the door?" you thought to yourself watching his feet through the thin sliver you could see from under the bed skirt. "He really gon kill me huh?' you thought hopelessly.

You shiver as you hear Tamaki maniacally giggle as he skims through the closet. Luckily for you, your closet was rather large and definitely a decent hiding place, so using his distraction you carefully scoot from under the bed and head towards the door that was thankfully left open. "Make me white and call me Becky." you thought to yourself instantly regretting your decision.

Just as you step out, you feel a hand roughly grab your side and another one come around your neck caressing your chin making sharp nails dig deep enough to draw blood. "Y/n!" Tamaki moaned in your ear before you felt a wet stripe being licked from your neck, up to your ear.

You were harshly pulled back into the room and tossed into the bed. "S-So what you're going to kill me? Cause I called you by your last name?!" you say in disbelieving. Tamaki blinked slowly at you as if looking through a mist. You could tell his brain was clouded by whatever was going on with him.

While a dark grin came over his face, you'd be a lie if you said it didn't slightly turn you on.

"Kill you? Why would I do that?" Tamaki asks crawling onto the bed in a stalking manner, making you scoot back only to have your ankle grabbed yanking you back towards him. "Oh no Y/n, I'm not going to kill you silly. I'm going to fuck you." you blink rapidly trying to catch up on what he just stated all the while Tamaki's eyes raked over your body as he literally begins to salivate.

"My bunny's skin is so smooth and brown like the earth." Tamaki purrs leaning down to press kisses to your legs, "I want you to feel me, I want you to feel my cum drip down your thighs." Tamaki's words slurred together as if high on your scent. "Or maybe I should make you drink it." he stops applying kisses and simply stares at you, tongue loling out his mouth ever so slightly.

"I'm going to defile you." he moans as he continues to travel up your leg to your center, making you throb as his warm breath ghosts over it. "Amaijiki where is this coming from?" you ask, unsure of what was actually happening or if you should let this behavior continue. "I'm so horny right now, I tried to tell you but you ran away!" he whined into your cunt making you tremble and latch onto his hair making him groan.

Tamaki pulls your damp underwear to the slide before licking a stripe up your entrance. "T-Tamaki!" you yelp. Tamaki raised his eyes and glared at you before lightly slapping your entrance making you jerk at the limited pleasure.

"What did I say about my name?" he said with a low whine. Your eyes widened, "The wolf hair!" you blurt out making Tamaki look at you funny. "It's March, wolves tend to mate between January and April." you explain squealing as Tamaki shoves his index finger all the way to the knuckle inside of you not paying attention to your discovery. You clear your throat, "That's why you are so adamant about your name, It's custom for the female to accept the males." you hum in thought, "Oh wait, that's birds."

You arch your back suddenly as Tamaki forcefully adds a second finger into your body. "You talk when your nervous Bunny." Tamaki whispered in your ears before taking your ear between his sharp teeth. "Don't be nervous, I'm going to make you feel so good."

Tamaki added a third finger, before bending back down to add his tongue into the mix pushing it deep inside of you, making your legs shake from the stimulation. You grip his hair and throw your head back. "I'm close." you stutter out. Tamaki pulls away and you groan as you watch him practically rip off his clothes

"Jesus.." you trail off as you gaze down at his painfully hard dick. "I'm so hard for you Bunny." he groans lazily jerking his cock placing a hand on your shoulder. "Lay upside-down." he says and you raise your eyebrow but comply. It's too late when you realize what was happening as you gaze up at your boyfriend positioning his dick at your mouth. "Tamaki wait-" you choke as Tamaki takes the liberty of shoving his member deep in your throat. You sputter around the girth but he doesn't falter, only giving you the mercy of not moving.

"Your so cute" Tamaki strokes your face before lightly tracing his fingers along your neck, pressing down on it slightly before covering his face in mock embarrassment. "I'm so deep in you Bunny!" unable to respond, you only focus on trying to breathe. Tamaki moves back and forth fucking your face andnot wasting any time on going slow.

"F-Fuck!" you start gagging but that only spurs him on to move faster. "I'm going to come on your face, can I do that please y/n? you'd like that so much huh Y/n?" Tamaki rambled delirious and drooling onto your chest as he grips the underside of your chin moving faster.

Tamaki suddenly pulls out and drags you to the ground, violently jerking off in front of your face. Before you can even say anything more you are forced to close your eyes as you feel his cum hit your face covering your lips. You reach a hand up to wipe it off but Tamaki grabs your hands with an animalistic growl, "Leave it." You feel yourself hoisted up and without any warning, you feel his dick go inside of you, still hard.

Standing up Tamaki bounces you up and down hitting your cervix and with your limited senses, your pleasure was doubled tenfold. Tamaki lays you down onto the edge of the bed and continued to drill into you.

"Fuck! I'm close!" you moan not sure what to grab onto. You gasp when you feel Tamaki's warm tongue swirling on your eyelids as he licks his cum off your face before kissing you making you cringe at the taste. Tamaki pulls out making you whine, 'No I was so close." Tamaki smirked licking his now extended fangs causing you to shiver with anticipation. "You tasted me, now I get to taste you"

Tamaki gets a firm grip on your legs and spread them before eating you out vigorously making you shiver before cum harder than you have in a while with a tearful cry. Tamaki cleans up your release until you're pushing him away from overstimulation and exhaustion.

It's nothing but heavy breathing for a while but you could tell that was ending as Tamaki's face went from pink due to overexertion to red from embarrassment. Knowing what to do, you open your arms and allowed him to hide his face into your neck. "D-Did I scare you?" he asked you chuckle, "No sweetie...I was terrified". Tamaki whined making you laugh as you two fell into a comfortable, dreamless sleep.

[markberries]

o h  b a b y┊draco malfoy

anon requested: do you think you can write this? 6thYear!Draco FWB with fem reader (really rough smut to take out his stress and frustrations) and she ends up getting pregnant from a broken condom but tries to hide the pregnancy until it can’t be hidden anymore/Voldemort somehow finds out and uses her to his leverage so Draco does his task? it doesn’t have to be a happy ending. if you don’t want to write this, it’s okay. thank you.

info: war was upon the students of hogwarts. getting pregnant wasn’t the plan.

warnings: SMUT, slight dirty talk, death

genre: smut, angst, fem!reader

word count: 1700+

a/n: LMAO on my wip page i put fluff.... sorry guys but no fluff here. semi edited,, ALSO I JUST REALIZED THIS ISNT FWB :((( IM SO SORRY

your hand tightens around the plastic in your hand, there’s a slight audible gasp that escaped the grasp of your lips, quiet enough for no one to notice, but loud enough for you to hear. you bite your lip, a surge of anxiety pumping through your veins, a skip of a heartbeat making you tap your foot. the two lines that formed in front of your eyes nearly had you shaking, but the worst part is you knew who the culprit was, and you knew how it happened.

you should have known that the moment you hadn’t gotten your period, that something must have happened. he used a condom that day, didn’t he? did i take birth control?

you and draco had been together for over a year, but you would be lying if you said that you hadn’t noticed his change in behavior. the silence that would fill the air, tension thick enough to slice with a knife. he always seemed like he was in thought, an empty gaze within his eyes.

two weeks ago, he was noticeably frustrated and agitated, so you didn’t question when he dragged you to a nearby supply closet, palming him through his pants.

he shut the door, quietly groaning into your left ear. his hands held the flesh of your ass, you could feel his warm breath on your skin, sending goosebumps all over. his mouth lightly brushed your ear, whispering an, “i need you.”

he took his thumb, slowly swiping it across your bottom lip. you parted your lips teasingly, letting his thumb enter your mouth as you lightly sucked on the fingertip. you could see the tent in his pants becoming tighter, the wetness building between your legs as you clenched your thighs together to hide your arousal, exciting thoughts running through both of your minds.

“we don’t have time for this, my love,” he whispered to you, lightly slapping your bottom. “i want you to turn around.”

a sudden feeling of confidence ran through your body, dragging your fingertips across his clothed chest. “oh yeah? why should i listen to you?”

draco decides to play along with your teasing, walking towards you as you walked backwards, your back pressing on the cool wall behind you. draco smirks, shamelessly looking at you up and down. he places his leg in between your thighs, his knee pressing against your clothed heat.

“you’re going to do exactly what i tell you to do princess, or else,” he says seductively, “now unbutton your shirt.”

the excitement running through your body made you bite your lip in anticipation, slowly unbuttoning your white dress shirt, draco watching your fingers play with the black buttons.

“hurry up princess,” he said sternly, nearly growling into your ear. his hand gripped at your thigh, and you let out a slight chuckle. 

“i don’t really feel like it, i think i’ll take my time.”

draco clearly wasn’t happy with your answer, roughly grabbing your waist to turn you around, now your chest was touching the wall, your two hands pressed against it. draco, still holding your waist, whispered in your ear, “since you decided to be a brat today, i’m gonna fuck you like one. alright? do we have any problems?”

you whimpered in response, breathing heavily as you heard the unzipping of his pants. he tugged open the foil of a condom, rolling it onto his length. he raised your skirt, pushing your panties aside. he lined up with your entrance, and with no warning, he slammed into you. you cried out, screwing your eyes shut.

“oh fuck,” he groaned in relief, aggressively pounding into you as you continued to moan his name loudly.

“hm? what do you have to say now?” draco grunted as he continuously fucked you from behind. you and draco have gotten rough before, but not like this, it was different. you liked it.

draco repeatedly hit the same spot in your body, pleasure rushing throughout your system. he would pull out to your entrance, then slam back in, the sound and smell of sex filling the small room.

“it feels so good,” you moaned, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. a recognizable feeling began to build up in your stomach, draco’s thrusts becoming sloppy but still pleasurable.

“i’m gonna come,” you whimpered, your vision becoming fuzzy.

“beg for it, princess.”

you were panting, sweat drenching your clothes, “please draco, f-fuck. i want to come so bad — please!”

“then come, princess.”

and with that, you let go, your body shaking while draco thrusted one last time, before finishing off as well.

the memory of that rough day in the closet was still freshly etched in your mind, and it remained there as you stared at the positive pregnancy test. your hand covered your mouth, tears welling up in your eyes. this couldn’t be happening.

you needed to tell draco, he had a right to know. you were still going to decide for yourself if you wanted to keep it or not, and you were leaning on the idea of raising the child. it didn’t matter if draco wanted it or not.

—

the first thing that draco wished, was that he had told you about his hidden identity. when draco heard the news, he wasn’t sure if he should be happy or not. he loved the idea of having a family with you, he didn’t expect to have one so early, but he genuinely wanted to create a future with you — just not under these circumstances.

the dark mark on his arm haunted him, the voice of voldemort’s appearing in draco’s recurring nightmares, and his ghastly tasks assigned to him never failed to make him shiver. so raising a child during this dark and twisted era, scared him.

a hundred things ran through his mind, asking himself if he would be a good father, whether or not his child would hate him because he was a bad person, and the secret he hid from you about being a deatheater.

“that’s amazing, y/n,” he smiled at you, and you let out a sigh of relief. you ran into his arms, burying your head in his chest as you let out a small cry.

“i thought you would leave me,” you said quietly, muffled by his clothing, but still audible. he smiled, brushing your hair as he held you in a warm embrace.

“i would never leave you,” he said softly, smiling down at your figure. you looked up at him, your eyes watery and shining like crystals, happy tears running down your face. you were draco’s soft spot, the one person who draco would rather die with than live without, and the thought of losing you made draco’s heart hurt.

he wiped the tears off of your face, planting a kiss on your forehead. for the first time in awhile, he felt calm, the warmth of you surrounding him, your soothing presence making him feel like this moment would last forever, and he wished it did, for he would have preferred to stay with you in that circumstance for the rest of his life.

—

the second thing draco wished, was that he had never been brought into this type of life. draco swore he nearly cried when bellatrix, voldemort’s fanatically loyal servant, ordered him to kill dumbledore. he almost said no, when thinking of you. the only thing that had stopped him, was the mention of your name. he froze in his tracks, trembling.

“you’re in love with another pureblood, aren’t you? what was her name — y/n?”

a cackle left bellatrix’s chapped lips while she played around with her wand. she sat comfortably in draco’s home, an evil smile from ear to ear. “she bears a child, doesn’t she?”

draco was left speechless, his lower lip quivering in horror. “how do you know that?”

he barely heard the sound of his mother questioning him, only thinking of what might possibly go wrong in this situation.

“it’s not about how i know, it’s about what i can do,” bellatrix said, standing up from the chair. “so it settles it then, you kill dumbledore, or i kill y/n and your child.”

draco forgot how to breathe. his brain scattered with possibilities of anything bad happening to you, how you would sound when you were being tortured, the pleading cries you would scream out while draco could only watch. he had to do it. he had to kill dumbledore.

but how could he? he would have to bear this weight on his shoulders, be seen as a murderer to you and his child. what would you think of him? would you think of him as a monster? even so, how would he protect you if he were to refuse the proposal of voldemort?

he was overwhelmed with thoughts, no hope left in his body. he couldn’t do it, he was too scared. he knew he was too much of a coward, and his inability to tell you about his dark mark proved it.

—

the third thing draco wished, was that he could’ve started a family with you. he imagined you with a bright smile on your face, placing breakfast on the table while your baby babbled random noises in their high chair. you would kiss him goodbye as he left for work, and he would never lose that feeling of happiness you gave him; but as he heard the terrified screams and shrieks that emitted from you, he knew that it would not be happening.

he simply had refused to kill dumbledore, creating a plan to escape with you, to run away and live a secret life, but that was too good to be true, as he watched your shivering body. you weren’t dead, just badly hurt. voldemort was laughing in amusement, watching you writhe in pain while tears ran down draco’s pale face.

“stop it! you monster!” draco bawled, his mother and bellatrix holding him back.

“did i not say that she would die? how dare you disrespect me?” voldemort shouted in response. the pain was too much for you to handle, and you dropped to the floor, still alive, but almost gone. draco should have told you, he knew he should have said something about the dangers that were ahead of you. he knew that he was in the wrong, and what he was about to do wasn’t going to fix everything, but it was the least he could have done.

so when draco ran in front of your body, as voldemort yelled out the curse that would send you to death, draco had received the curse instead of you, and the final thing he wished was that he had told you how much he loved you.

so when you began to crawl towards draco’s lifeless body, your own soul beginning to leave yours, you kissed him.

and both of you lay there, with your unborn baby, never knowing what could have been.

[prideful-sins]

Cockwarming/ Fucking Diavolo on His Throne GN! MC (Vagina Version) SMUT

Here’s the Penis Edition

Bratty Diavolo gives me life, also I’ve never written cockwarming so I’m almost sure I did it wrong

Tags: Voyeurism, Cockwarming, Public sex, Skirt Wearing MC, Vaginal Penetration,  N/S/F/W, SMUT

Word count: 2K

Masterlist | Buy Me A Coffee?

--

“I want you to wear this, MC.” Diavolo held up a RAD School uniform but there was a slight alteration to the outfit.

“Uhm, Lord Diavolo... this has a- a skirt?” You looked at the outfit and back at Diavolo, a light chuckle escaping your lips as you joked around with The Prince.

“Yes. It does.” Diavolo’s face didn’t change, his eyes staring into you with a dedicated seriousness.

“Please tell me you’re joking?” Diavolo’s silence to your question spoke a lot more than any reply he would have said, “y-you’re not joking?” He shook his head and thrust the clothes into your chest before turning away and heading out of the room.

“I’ll be waiting on my throne, be there in under 5 minutes” You could practically feel Diavolo’s smirk in the hallway as he walked away, leaving you there, clutching the clothes with wide eyes and a deep blush.

A few minutes later you had changed and started walking down the hallway, various lower demons passing you and staring, Little D’s waving at you innocently as they went about their business. 

“I’m going to kill him for doing this to me” you muttered to yourself as you walked along, hands clutching the hem of your skirt in an attempt to seem dignified as your composure defied you.

Diavolo sat on his throne, head resting in one hand and his legs spread wide open, other hand resting between his thighs, loosely hanging as his fingers twitched in anticipation. You opened the door, stepped through, and closed it behind you.

“I’m on time, I know I am” You walked towards Diavolo slowly, teasing him with this outfit, swaying your hips a little and puffing your chest further with your hands clasped together behind your back.

“I know you are. Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have been here sooner” He sat up and raised a hand, his fingers beckoning you closer.

“You can be such a brat sometimes” Your pace quickened without thinking, body desperate for his touch as you walked towards him. Diavolo only smirked, waiting for you to approach him, and as you did he sat up and crossed one leg over the other.

“You look amazing MC” His voice was low and sultry, eyeing you up with a wild gaze, tongue licking at his teeth as he savoured what you were serving him.

“Well, you did pick it out after all” Diavolo spun you around and placed his hand on your hips before dragging you closer to him and pushing his knee into your inner thighs, your body tensed up and a fire lit within the pit of your stomach, your clit reacting and becoming wetter  as he continued.

“Indeed I did, and it suits you perfectly” Diavolo wiggled his foot between your legs and you obliged, knees parting and letting him in. Your eyes were glued to the floor, embarrassingly avoiding any kind of gaze that may befall you. Diavolo’s foot inched further and further up your legs until it was a hair’s breath away from your labia, his shoe invading the base of your underwear.

“D-Dia...” you shuffled on your feet, bringing your ass closer to him in the hopes of spurring him to continue.

“Hmm?” His hum was low and sultry as his foot dropped from between your legs, your body disappointed at the lack of his touch, only Diavolo’s hands remained pressed firmly on your hips. Just as your body gave up on receiving more of his touch he pulled you back to sit on his lap, his cock hard and pressing against your ass. Diavolo’s lips came to your neck, just below the baseline of your hair, his lips dotting hungry kisses along what skin it could, your hands clutched the hem of your skirt as sweat beaded upon your brow.

You gasped lightly and wiggled your hips to increase the contact, earning you a light nibble from Diavolo. His hands moved from your hips and slid under the skirt, as his fingers came to your underwear he stopped, lips leaving your neck with a disappointed grunt.

“Underwear?” He said, obviously disappointed

“Yeah?”

“I told you not to wear any” You pouted and turned your head.

“No you didn’t!” Dia glared at you, lust in his eyes as his fingers slid under the waistband.

“I’m sure I did” he knew he hadn’t but The Prince just couldn’t resist teasing you like this, your reaction was priceless. Diavolo wiggled your underwear down, the fabric clinging at the weteness between your legs. You whispered his name as one of Diavolo’s hands made its way to your vagina and fingered it gently, wetness coating the end of his fingers, he knew this would make you writhe, hips wriggling within his clutch as his fingers teased at your skin.

“Diavolo please” you whined, wiggling your hips just that little bit more into his hardening cock, you heard a low chuckle followed by a zipper, his hand hitting against your ass cheek as he worked his trousers.

“You’re impatient today, and you called me a brat” he smirked and removed his hand from your clit, instead opting to lift you by the ass and hover your entrance over his dick.

“Wait already? Are you even going to-”

“Shush.” Diavolo hissed at you before sliding one of his fingers into you, warming you up for him. Your hips jerked at the invasion, the whole of your lower stomach twisting in excitement. You moaned loudly, clit throbbing in anticipation of your ecstasy as Diavolo thrust his finger within you before sliding in a second, widening you for his cock.

When he felt like you were ready enough Diavolo removed his fingers and placed his dick at your entrance before lowering your hips down, your vagina stretching more to accept his dick, an electric current sent straight through your entire back as he filled you more and more. After he was fully in you his dick still grew more, no longer a half-chub and becoming harder by the second. Each vague movement sent a shiver through your spine as Diavolo fulfilled pleasuring you more and more.

Just as both of you were getting into it, his dick within you and ready to thrust, the doors swung open and you let out a yelp before proceeding to try and stand up but Diavolo’s hand gripped your waist and kept you down, you looked at him in surprise but he merely smiled.

“You may want to cover yourself up front, darling” you whipped your head around and slammed your hands down onto your skirt, anchoring it down and attempting to look as un-dishevelled as possible.

“My Lord?” Lucifer walked up to you both with a raised brow and a report within his hand, you smiled back at him with a red face and a toothy, unconvincing, grin.

“Yes Lucifer?” Diavolo was as composed as when you had started, his face calm and hardly a blush on his cheeks as he softly moved his hips, you let out a slight hum at the movement but kept your face in control.

“I’m sorry to disturb you but this is a matter that needs to be resolved urgently-” the words melted away into a fuzz as Diavolo proceeded to roll his hips into you, as discreetly as he could. You could tell Lucifer had an inkling as to what was going on, he was averting his gaze and a light blush dusted his cheeks as he continued to speak.

“I’m sure however you deal with it will be fine Lucifer, do not worry. I believe you’ll choose the right path” It was unlike Diavolo to simply tell Lucifer that he should deal with a problem how he sees fit, the Prince must be more unravelled than you initially thought.

“Of course My Lord, again, sorry to disturb your- uhh- private time”

“Not a problem at all, if you wish to watch you’re more than-”

“Bye Lucifer!” you basically screeched it out and ended up lifting your hips in the process, once again in a vain attempt to stand up but Diavolo yanked you down again, this time a loud moan escaping your lips and a grunt through his gritted teeth. Lucifer turned away, the pink dust now a deep red, and walked off down the hall, but as soon as his back was turned Diavolo thrust his hips up and slammed his cock into you making you moan out in pleasure, each moan spurring Lucifer to walk faster out of the room.

“So impatient” Diavolo grabbed your hands and held them behind your back, arching you forward and letting your skirt free from its enclosure. His thrusts became more hungry as the noise of skin slapping together echoed within the walls along with your own mewls and moans. Diavolo grunted behind you as he continued to pound into your cunt, your own hips bouncing to the perverted song both of you were playing in this empty throne room.

“Dia- I’m- hh- I’m-” words escaped your brain as you tried to think straight but nothing worked, your whole body was thinking with Diavolo’s dick and it wasn't providing much more than brain-cancelling pleasure, your stomach flipped and turned as your orgasm called out amongst the noise, a small crescendo to your intermittent ecstasies. Dia let go of your hands and wrapped one of his own around your chest, bringing you into his own, the other hand gripping your face and turning your head to face him before planting a deep kiss upon your lips.

Your hips moved of their own accord, accommodating the change in posture making it harder for Diavolo to thrust but you had it covered, your body bouncing up and down while keeping your lips planted firmly on his own. Your tongues battling it out in a war of spit and saliva, it drooled down your chin as you panted and breathed in each other’s dry air. Both of you were moaning, dishevelled messes, your hands reaching back and intertwining within his hair, clutching a fistful to drag your spirit back down into you as the pleasure sent your soul into heaven.

“MC hah~” this was the first time you had heard him seem un-composed, the orgasms becoming more and more apparent between you two as your moans shifted to breathy sighs and grunts. You bit down on his bottom lip and thrust his cock deep within you, hitting a G-spot you weren’t even aware of making you winded and gasp for air as your stomach dropped to the floor.

With a few last thrusts Diavolo came within you, you had moved one of your hands to your clit and began fingering yourself, just to speed you up in the hopes that you’d cum alongside Diavolo, and you did with just a second difference. Your lips had parted and Diavolo bit down into your shoulder, muffled moans vibrating through your arm as you shouted his nickname, the word ‘Dia!’ echoing through the room, and probably into the hallway.

Your juices had spilled down Diavolo’s groin, the fabric visibly wet from your orgasm, Diavolo came into you and you could feel it seeping down, trying to escape, you both sat there panting and staring at each other with a loving gaze.

“That- th- that wa- was- hah” words failed you, once again, as you came down from your highs. His dick was still within you, softening as the blood drained from it, cum seeping out little by little as it found small crevices to escape from.

Diavolo nodded and pressed a kiss onto your shoulder, “maybe we should have people walk in more often” he nuzzled into the crook of your neck and you let out a groan.

“You invited him to watch!” Diavolo chuckled at your statement and shuffled his hips around, cock still within you.

“And I meant it, did you think I didn’t?”

“Maybe a bluff, Lucifer looked like he was about to combust”

“He’s only jealous”

“Of you or me?”

“let’s go with ‘yes’ on that one.”

[cottoncandyjester]

Wait....Top Wholesome Y/N gets terrifying jealous. Can I request that!? Y/N wrap their arms around the yandere's waist (hugging them from behind) and lay their forehead on their shoulder. Y/N takes a deep sigh and looks at them with a glare full of anger (or horniness...but mostly Y/N being piss off.) Y/N whisper in their ear, "Let's go home...I need to release some steam." Yandere is unable to walk the next morning. (Can you write it about the yanderes who are just...bottoms? Or become a bottom when Y/N is a top? Thank you)

I just adore the thought of the yanderes being bottoms to a possessive y/n

Skipped hikaru cause he has a whole story bout him being a bottom

Didn't add scarlett cause there is no way she is a bottom, the only way she would ever bottom is if maybe she was with a feral reader

This story contains: smut, jealous reader, reader giving off soft yandere vibes

Theodore

Theo was incredibly handsome so it's only natural that someone would wish to flirt with him. He had took you to one of his favorite coffee shop for a relaxing date, all it took was you leaving to the bathroom only to return to have a flock of girls around him. "Oh, well thank you for such kind words but I'm on a date" it seems they weren't getting the hint so you walked over before simply plopping down in theo's lap a sharp glare on your face while the male pushed up his glasses his face red before he placed a hand on your thigh. "Theo, let's go home now."

Your hands gripped the male's hair as he felt like his hips were breaking from you slamming down on his cock over and over and over. "Y-y/n~ y-you're being too rough on me i-i cant-" his shaky words were met with a rough kiss before you pulled back watching his eyes get teary. "Who owns you and this cock?" Your voice was low and filled with a burning rage that you just had to release. With that you continued to ride him in such a way that drove him absolutely insane, you were definitely in control of this situation "y-you do! I-im all yours!"

Axis

"oh so you're blind? Poor baby. Must be hard on you."

Axis nervously stood waiting for you to show up to the movie theater for your date and while waiting some older women decided that he was just too adorable to pass up. The male tried to explain that he was on a date but it seems they weren't getting it "y-you all a-are really k-kind but I'm waiting for my-" his words were cut off when a scent hit his nose and like an excited dog he turned his head towards the smell before feeling a soft hand against his arm. It's you! He knew that smell anywhere! You wrapped your arms around his waist your breathing tickling his neck.

"hey babe, let's go home and watch movies instead okay?"

Axis drooled as he felt you grip his hair yanking his head close to your sex making him pleasure you while you pumped your fingers deeper into his hole. "You're such a sweetie, but you shouldn't be so kind to strangers ax it makes me sad" your pouting tone made the male whine and whimper as he trailed his tongue along your more sensitive of areas

"i-i never wanna make you sad..never! P-please forgive me y/n!"

Salem

Salem had his nature of docile and calm, moments where you two can go on a date on public without making a scene. Though feeling someone rub against him always riled him up so when you excused yourself to the bathroom while you do were eating breakfast at a diner it wasn't long until he had some flirty strangers sit beside him and rub along his thigh trying to take him home.

"you're hair is so pretty, I've never seen a boy with such pretty long hair" their voice was making salem's head spin though he wasn't sure if that was good or bad. His instant thought was downright gruesome they weren't you, so it was okay to eat them..right?

Salem started to drool which they must've taken as intense pleasure cause it wasn't long until he was backed into the corner of the booth trying to hold in his cannibalistic urges while he felt hands trail up his thighs. And soon the feeling was whipped away as you pulled the stranger away before grabbing salem's hand your eyes cold and filled with rage. It was time to go home

"who owns you?! Who owns everything about you?!"

Your voice was drowned out by salem's loud squeals and moans as you thrusted deep into his hole your hands gripping the leash connected to the collar around his neck that choked him. "Y/n! Y/n! Y/n!" His chanted got more and more whinier as you fucked him harder until he was sobbing and shaking under you. Salem was such a good boy

Prince

Prince was a total ladies man or at least he was until he met you, he had to let all his many one night stands know that he was off the market though some just didn't get the memo. "Come now princey, you really gonna say no to me? Don't you remember what we did right here after hours...we were so loud I'm sure the whole area heard it" prince nervously gazed at the female who sat at his bar clearly wanting another ride. His main worry was you coming back thinking he was unfaithful.

"Sorry but I don't put my dick just anywhere anymore"

"but you could, you always hated commitment so why bother now?"

Before prince can utter a word you were hopping over the bar without a single care in the world. "Hey babe, you done working?"

Prince admired your badass nature and simply nodded ready to go, though he missed that deadly glare you shot towards the slut.

"if your groupies can only see you now, whining and whimpering to feel an ounce of pleasure" you spoke lowly as prince bucked his hips up as you stroked his cock and fingered his hole but gave a frustrated huff when you stopped for the third time that moment, just as he was close you would stop and he was going crazy.

"p-please, have mercy"

"I'll think about it."

Yuki

Yuki gave off huge 'dont bother me' vibes but even still with that people would come up to him thinking they have a chance. You two were at the arcade and had split up since he had to use the bathroom, as he started to walk back to where you were he bumped into someone causing him to stumble back lightly. He looked and saw that it wasn't you so he proceeded to keep walking without speaking a word.

"don't leave a guy hanging now hot stuff!" The male stranger followed yuki who now scrolled through his phone ignoring the stranger but soon noticed they blocked his path. With a frustrated sigh he looked up his green eyes clearly bored and uninterested

"you're quite the looker..how about we go out together?"

"no."

They definitely wasn't expecting his dry and short response but when yuki suddenly felt himself being touched he cringed lightly making an expression one can see as cute. Having someone touch his chest that wasn't you gave him bad vibes, he didn't like that. Before he could take action you were at his side hugging against him calming his nerves down

"please don't touch him okay? He has anxiety" your sweet tone did not match your sharp glare or light scowl. With that you dragged yuki along who was more than eager to cling to you.

Yuki panted softly his back arching as you thrusted slowly inside of him making it unbearably slow, he needed more so much more and your teasing was making him crazy. "Come now, you can be louder than that can't you? Tell me what you want yuki"

"y-you, I want you..please y/n"

Rocket

Your beefed up boyfriend always got attention wherever he went, so going to the beach was probably a terrible idea honestly. You two found a perfect spot and once all set up rocket excitedly stripped out of his shirt, you definitely noticed all the stares from both male and females. Of course it wasn't long until a group of girls came up to him blushing and giggling, clearly wanting to ask him out

You sat next to him on the towel while he started to put sunscreen on, your glare was sharp as the girls started to flirt and gawk. "You're really ripped, do you work out or something?" Rocket who was oblivious as always proceeded to entertain them with his innocent answer. "Well we're going to play volleyball, of your sibling doesn't mind you leaving then maybe you can join us?"

SIBLING?! utter rage filled you but you forced a smile now standing up, rocket glanced your way and was about to correct the girls but you simply interrupted him. "Hey babe I think it's gonna start raining soon we should go" you were met by a pouty rocket who really wanted to go swimming but the two of you packed it up and went home.

The water grew cold as you stroked rocket's thick cock while standing behind him trailing kisses along his back feeling him shudder and squirm against your touch. "B-babe, I'm gonna- ngh! So good" his small moans always made you even hornier and it wasn't long until you had him pressed against the shower wall sliding inside of him and feeling his large body shiver at the feeling. Your hands going straight to his chest now groping it and squeezing his nipples

"I'll show you who you belong to"

Yuuta& yuuji

Having two boys meant twice the flirting and twice the annoying sluts bothering them. You three had taken a vacation to disneyworld and when your three weren't in the hotel fucking each other's brains out you were at the amusment park walking around and doing things.

"hey how about we ride that?" Yuuji pointed at a big roller coaster that made both you and yuuta worry about your life. As you three waited in line yuuta felt someone brush their hand against his waist, thinking that it was you he settled down not minding it until he nothing both your hands gripped yuuji's arm.

with wide eyes he turned only to see a random girl touching him but to make matters worse it seems yuuji got targeted as well by a boy, the twins had a look of discomfort. "Sorry me and my brother were wondering if you two would be open to a double date, you two are very cute and-" you cut them off with a loud fake yawn causing both boys to look towards you in worry their attention on you now.

"oh sweetie! Are you tired? We can go back to the hotel if you want?"

"damn y/n if you're sleepy you should have let us know!"

Wasn't long until you held both boys hands the three of you walking back to the hotel while you shot the strangers a hard glare.

"you two really are so cute, no wonder people fall for you." You eyed the two boys who both had their hands tied above their heads, blindfolds on while a line of sex toys sat at the end of the bed. You've been teasing their holes for the last hour and they couldn't take it much longer.

You pumped the toys into each of their holes watching their reactions, yuuji always gave the cutest moans while yuuta whined and let out small cries of bliss.

[dcnatural]

The Dominoed Daredoll

Word Count: 3656 

Pairing: Arkham Knight!Jason x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Synopsis:  You, the hero Flamebird, thought you would never find love again after your first love, Jason Todd died. In a attempt to rescue Oracle, you run into the mysterious Arkham Knight.

I should’ve waited for Bruce. That was the last coherent thought that crossed your mind before everything went black.

You woke up what could have been minutes or hours later, hands cuffed together behind your back and your ankles tied up preventing you from running. Your head still pounded where you had been hit and you could feel the dried blood that clung to your scalp. 

It all had happened so fast: in one moment you were jumping from building to building following the trail that the Arkham Knight had left behind and in the next he had been upon you. You could only hope that, since you were still alive, maybe there was a chance Barbara also was. She had been your mentor from the moment you entered the world of crime fighting and you couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. You still hadn’t healed from the death of your best friend years ago, you couldn’t lose her too.

And so, you had sprung into action the moment you heard Oracle had been kidnapped, ignoring Bruce’s orders to stay away from the militia. You wouldn’t let anyone take anything from you again; as long as you were breathing, you would protect the ones you loved. But it seemed you wouldn’t be breathing for much longer, unless you could find a way to escape.

The room you were in was completely dark and you couldn’t see anything. The floor and wall behind you were made of cold metal and you assumed they had taken you to an abandoned warehouse. The only sound was that of your own erratic breathing; they had left you alone.

Except you weren’t. You heard the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking and felt the muzzle pressing up to your forehead. Whoever it was, had approached you in complete silence. Not only that, but they had been able to see you, even without any lights. It must be the Knight himself, you guessed.

“Look who finally woke up,” his modulated voice announced, sending chills down your spine. He loomed over you and even though you couldn’t see him, there was something familiar about his presence. Like the two of you had met before. 

“I swear I’ll beat the fuck out of you when I get out,” you hissed in return. Even being at an extreme disadvantage wouldn’t stop you from getting mouthy.

He laughed dryly. “You surely talk a big game for someone who can’t even defend herself.” And as to prove his point, he slammed the sole of his boot against your ribs, causing you to growl in pain. He kicked you again, stronger this time and you felt the air leaving your lungs. You bit your tongue to avoid screaming, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. 

“Fuck you,” you managed to curse as you coughed, blood spurting out of your mouth. “You’ll see. I’ll get Oracle and we’ll defeat you.”

“Keep dreaming, daredoll.”

You flinched, the nickname hitting you harder than any punch could ever have. A wave of nostalgia rolled in as the memories flashed in your mind. 

You and Robin, fighting side by side against Two-Face and his thugs. You and Jason, getting ice cream downtown. You and your best friend, taking out drug dealers. You and your first love, swaying in the gym during a school dance. You alone at his funeral, watching as the empty coffin was lowered into the earth. And echoing through the memories, his voice calling you his daredoll. 

“My dominoed daredoll. The Batgirl for my Robin,” you remember him saying on the first night you donned your cowl, draping his arm around your shoulders and tugging you closer to him as you both watched Dick and Barbara, now in their new mantles of Nightwing and Oracle, kissing in the Batcave. You had blushed, wishing he would kiss you like that.

“Don’t call me that,” you said through gritted teeth. You focused on your breathing, refusing to let yourself cry in front of him.

He snickered. “I think it suits you, don’t you agree?”

You ignored him and tussled against the restraints, desperate to escape. If you could only free your hands, you knew you could disarm him.

“I asked you a question, daredoll .”

You felt a silent tear running down your cheek. There was something about the intonation he said that stupid nickname that was so like Jason. Annoyed by your lack of response, he pressed his feet to your injured ribs, threatening another blow. Finally, you gave in and slowly you shook your head, the gun's barrel sliding down your cheek until the muzzle was caressing your mouth.

“I hate it. It reminds me of someone I once knew.” Another tear fell down your face and your captor crouched in front of you, using his free hand to wipe them away. His touch was cold and harsh, a mockery of what should have been an endearing gesture. This close to him, you could hear his heartbeat and the faint buzzing of the circuits of his suit.

“Why so sad? I thought bats didn’t cry,” he taunted.  

You shook your head again, feeling the cold metal sliding across your lips. “You know nothing about us. About what we have lost.”

He chuckled, amused by your answer. “I know more than you would think.” There was an edge of sadness in his tone, the first emotion he had shown since you woke up. Or perhaps you had only imagined it.

Either way, he couldn’t possibly know what it had felt like after losing Jason. You couldn’t even look at your Batgirl outfit without feeling guilty. Guilty that you were alive and he wasn’t. After Tim came along, it became too much. You didn’t blame him for taking Jason’s mantle, you saw it as a way to honour him, but you simply couldn’t be another Robin’s Batgirl, and so, you abandoned the purple and black suit to adopt a new one. Following the step of your older brother, you moved to Bludhaven and began to call yourself Flamebird. Not only the kryptonian bird was a perfect match for Dick’s Nightwing, but it also symbolized rebirth. Just like a phoenix, you had been reborn. It did nothing to quell the ache in your heart, but at least it was easier than to be constantly reminded of your deceased love.

A new idea seemed to cross his mind and, grabbing you by your chin, he pressed the pistol past your lips. Before you could react, it was already half buried in your throat and you choked on it, struggling to breathe around the large intrusion. 

“Suck it,” he ordered and, not seeing another alternative, you did as you were told. His finger was on the trigger the whole time while you shoved your tongue inside the barrel, the taste of gunpowder and metal coating your tongue.

There was a fire building inside you, not of anger, but of excitement. It was dangerous and thrilling and you wondered how it would feel if, instead of his gun, he had placed his cock in your mouth. You quickly dismissed the thought, he was a criminal, for God’s sake.  When he pulled it out, you couldn’t help but be a bit disappointed.

“Damn,” he exclaimed as he looked at you, drool dripping down your chin and cheeks flushed red. “I wonder if you’ll be as good when sucking my dick.”

His words affected your body in ways you refused to acknowledge, the mere threat of what he would do to you making you squirm. You knew your arousal was building up and really hoped he didn’t notice.

Even in the dark, you felt when he got up and walked away, causing your heartbeat to quicken. You feared what he was going to do, thinking that perhaps he would try to assault Barbara too. Please don’t harm her, you begged mentally. You would take whatever he threw at you, as long as it meant your friend was safe. She needed to survive, she had Dick waiting for her, she had someone to return to. You had no one. Perhaps if he kills me, I’ll see Jason again, death will reunite us for all of eternity, you thought hopefully, recalling the words engraved in his tombstone, a line from one of his favorite poems: “No more let life divide what death can join together.”

You were blinded by brightness when all of the lights lit up simultaneously, your eyes, already accustomed to the darkness, struggling to adjust to the change. The Knight came back and now you could see him properly. He wore an armor with the symbol of Arkham Asylum on the chest and his physique was in top shape, not even the metal protection being able to hide his muscles. On the holster, his pistol still glimmered with the wetness of your mouth. As you analized him, your eyes stopped a second too long on his thighs, your brain already starting to think about how it would feel to straddle one of them.   

The light also allowed you to inspect your surroundings. Like predicted, it was indeed an old warehouse, a rectangular space empty except for the wooden boxes piled up under the mezzanine. You caught sight of your utility belt tossed on top of the boxes. If you could escape the binding on your feet, you could reach it and use one of the many tools it stored to open the cuffs and escape. The only problem would be doing all of that before you got shot. 

“Much better this way,” he said, looking around at the lit up room. “You look much better without the night vision lens.”

He sat on your legs, pinning you down even harder. From a pocket, he pulled a sharp knife, which he ran across the skin of your neck, erupting goosebumps and leaving a faint red line across your skin, blood barely prickling through the cut.

“It would be so easy to kill you right now. No one would miss you. Hell, they likely haven’t even noticed you're gone.” 

You knew he was just trying to get under your skin, but there was some truth to his words: with everything going on, your absence would take a while to be noticed. Especially since you had been doing exactly what Bruce had ordered you not to do. He probably thinks I’m patrolling Bludhaven like he asked.  

The Knight then pressed the blade to your shirt, cutting past the yellow and red kevlar from your suit and exposing your breast to him. He tossed the pieces of fabric aside and cupped your boobs with his gloved hands. You ignored the sensation running through your body as he pinched and twisted your nipples, focusing solely on reaching one of the shredded bits. You took advantage of his assault to wiggle a little, making it seem you were only reacting to his ministrations. When you finally felt the cut material under your fingertips, you began to peel away the many protective layers in search of the metal wires, knowing that you could use those to unlock the handcuffs.

Unfortunately, he soon got bored of your chest and your red skirt became the next victim of his knife, followed closely by your leggings and panties. Your heartbeat quickened at the realization of what he was going to do and you began to work faster on freeing yourself. You closed your eyes in a pathetic hope that, if you couldn’t see it, then it couldn’t be really happening. However, you sprung them open again when you felt a cold object being pressed to your pussy lips. His gun. 

“Please, don’t,” you croaked, eyes tearing up again. “I’ve... I’ve never…”

“Oh, don’t tell me you are a virgin. With such a pretty face, it’s hard to believe that.”

“It’s true. I'm in love with a dead guy,” you said in almost a whisper. After Jason died, you promised yourself to never be with anyone, and so, despite the many admirers who were constantly asking you out, you always declined, knowing they were nothing compared to your deceased beloved.

He seemed surprised at your confession, and he hesitated for a moment. But just as you took a breath of relief, his demeanour went back to what it was before. “Liar. Everybody knows you are a slut for your stupid boyfriend.”

You frowned. “I swear it’s the truth. I don’t even have a boyfriend.”

“Do you think I’m stupid, daredool?” You muttered a ‘no ’. “I’ve seen you and him together. Nightwing and Flamebird. Crime-fighters and lovers.”

You shook your head vehemently. “No, you got it all wrong. He’s my brother, I’m telling you. The boy I loved died years ago. So, please, I beg you, let me have this last symbol of loyalty to him. Don’t touch me where he never had the chance to.”

You wished he wasn’t wearing a helmet so you could have seen his expression as he pulled away the gun. You didn’t understand why he cared about this detail, but mentioning Jason seemed to have affected the Arkham Knight in one way or another. Perhaps this could buy you enough time to escape.

“Tell me more about this boy,” he demanded.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

You had to suppress a cheer as you finally pulled free a wire from the discarded armor. “Okay. His name was Jason. We were the same age,” you began, thinking carefully of what you could say without giving away your secret identity. “We were adopted by Batman at the same time. He trained to become Robin and I, Batgirl. Jason was smart, handsome, strong and passionate. I was in love with him for the whole time, but he only saw me as a friend. And then he died.”

“How did he die?”

By that point, you were crying freely. “The Joker… the Joker killed him.”

“If you loved him so much, why didn’t you avenge him?”

You didn’t know what to reply. The truth was that you had wanted to do just that, a life for a life. But Bruce always stopped you, saying you wouldn’t have been able to live with the guilt. “I couldn’t. Batman didn’t let me. But I should’ve. At least the Joker is dead now.”

You had opened up thinking that he would change his mind, but that hope was crushed as he spread your lips open and pressed the muzzle to your entrance. “If your Jason hadn’t died, would you have allowed him to do this to you?” he asked, a hint of playfulness in his voice, as if it was a private joke only he understood.

“Yes,” you told him, not missing a beat. “If he was alive, I’d let him do anything.”

“And if I offered you a deal... You cum for me once and I’ll return him to life. Would you take it?”

“Yes. But you can’t bring him back. He exploded, not even Ra’s Al Ghul with his Lazarus pit could bring Jason back.”

“Just remember that you consented to it,” he gave as a last warning before shoving the gun into you. It slid in easily, the path well lubricated by your arousal. Still, it hurt. The barrel was wide and it felt like it was splitting you apart. The metal was cold and it was a sharp contrast to your own warmth. You wanted to shout to the Knight that you hadn’t consented to anything but you couldn't find your voice.

And then he began to move in and out of you. The pain melted into pleasure and your hips rocked automatically to meet his rhythm. His thumb circled your clit in ways that made your whole body shake with passion. Moans left your throat against your will and you knew he was smiling behind his mask. His pace quickened and you felt your orgasm building up.

You climaxed with an explosive scream, its sound covering the noise of the metal handcuffs hitting the ground. You were unable to move, your limbs were heavy and your vision blurred. Besides, in that very moment, you had no wish to leave.

The Knight holstered his gun and brought his hands to his helmet, slowly removing it. At first, you thought you were imagining things. But there was no denying it was him. You would recognize those blue eyes anywhere.

“Jay,” you yelled in joy, jolting up to throw your arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug, the context of your reencounter completely erased by the sight of him. Your hands roamed his face, assuring you he was real.

“That’s me, daredoll.” Without the modulator, his voice was exactly the same as it had been when you had last seen him and you were flooded by a mixture of emotions. 

New tears began to fall from your eyes, this time out of happiness. They were mirrored by his own as he reassured you time and time again that it was really him. He placed soft kisses all over your face and whispered secrets only he could possibly know. When your mouths finally met, it was everything you had ever dreamed of and more. You were lost in pure bliss. When you finally broke away you had a giant smile plastered onto your face. It was like all your dreams had come true.

He looked older, of course, but other than that, it was the same face from before: from the disheveled dark hair to the crooked smile. Then your gaze fell to his left cheek, where a “J” shaped scar marked his otherwise perfect skin. Your eyes widened in shock, and his smile faltered, a dark shadow crossing his face.

Your hand raised upwards to touch the scar and he turned away. “What happened to you?”, you asked quietly. The euphoria of finding him alive had run out and the situation once more hung heavy above you. And by hugging him, you had thrown away the chance of catching him by surprise, as he now knew you had freed your hands. Stop, you told yourself, he’s not the enemy anymore. There must be an explanation to it all. He would never intentionally hurt any of us. We are family. 

“The Joker happened,” he stated simply. “He didn’t kill me, no. He kept me prisoner at Arkham this whole time. And none of you came looking for me.” There was anger in his voice, but also disappointment.

“That’s not true. Bruce tried to-”

“I DON’T CARE!” he shouted and stood up, his helmet tucked under his arm. “He tortured me, daredoll. The Joker did things so awful I can’t even put it into words. And no one stopped him. No one. Not you, not Bruce. Bruce. Bruce fucking Wayne. You know this is all his fault right? If he had gone to a fucking terapist instead of dressing up like a bat our lives wouldn’t be this messed up. I’m just trying to fix what he ruined.”

He began to walk away, his heavy steps echoing in the metal walls. He did have a point. If it wasn’t for Batman, there would be no Joker. Besides, who in their right mind would train children to fight? You had once thought that being chosen to be Batgirl was the highest honour possible, but right now, you felt like you had been manipulated to take on a duty that wasn’t yours.

You untied your legs and followed after him, grabbing his arm just before he could open the door. “Where are you going?”

“Away. I need some air,” he ran his finger through his hair, “I need to think. I-”

You shut him up with a tender kiss. “Don’t leave me. Not again,” you pleaded.

“You were the one who left me.”

His words shattered your heart. It hurt that he thought of it in that away. He’s not wrong, though. I should’ve done something. I shouldn’t have sat back and listened to Bruce.

“So tell me how to make it right. Please, Jay. I just want you. I don’t care if you are trying to kill Batman or to destroy the city, I wanna be with you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Let me show you.” Your voice broke as you spoke, words being cut in half by your sobbing. You didn’t know when you had started crying again, but now you couldn’t stop. “Whatever you are doing, you can count on me.”

You could see the doubt in his eyes. “You would turn your back to the only family you ever had?”

“ You are my family. Besides, I told you. For you, I’d do anything.”

He pulled you into his arms, hugging you tightly, and placed a kiss on your forehead, like he used to do when you were kids. “I love you, daredoll.”

“I love you too, Jaybird.”

And with that, he escorted your out of the warehouse, careful to cover your exposed body with his on the way to the car. An hour later you stood in his headquarters dressed in an outfit matching his. He didn't admit to it, but the fact that he had an armor waiting for you proved that he had never given up hope that you still loved him. 

Outside, a mass of soldiers waited in a semicircle, a fire lit in the middle of it. Your former uniform burned to ashes and fed the flames, which went high into the night sky.

“I introduce to you my partner, and your new captain,” Jason announced as you walked to his side. “Lady Arkham.”

Holding his hand, you raised your first to the sky. You glanced at him out of the corners of your eyes, still kind of wonderstruck on how it had all worked out. “Let’s make this city pay for tearing us apart.”

[sckyie]

Can I get #20 sfw with bokuto please? And can you make it a kind of angst to fluff thing? Oh, and with pronouns she/her. Please

prompt: rule number seventeen, no dating in the friend group, remember?

word count: 2.7k

genre + warnings: angst to fluffy ending; swearing, thas ab it

pronouns used: she/her

a/n: i went a TAD bit over board

The rulebook, the bible, the whatever cult ritual book. It's something you and your best friend had made when you two first got into junior high. It was a glorified bro-code if you will. The two of you followed the rules religiously.

Rule one, the "bros before hoes" rule. If Bokuto dated a girl who gave him an ultimatum to pick between the two of you, you'll always be first choice. The same goes vice versa.

Some rules were kind of pointless, but you two loved following them. Like rule fourteen, the "shotgun" rule, similar to how people call shotgun in cars. If one of you called "parent trap," the two of you had to switch whatever intended. Whether it be switch seats, food, or even who's driving, you'd have to switch. Though you'd only be aloud to switch once a week.

The rulebook was a fun friendship bonding activity. Though there was one issue, you began to fall for your best friend. It was stupid rule seventeen that got you. You had to keep your cool about how you felt.

You had your head resting on your forearm on the table. You and Akaashi sat across from each other as Kuroo and Bokuto played video games on the table. Akaashi was working on a paper while you played with a pen.

All day you had your mind on Bokuto. It was hard to keep your mouth shut on how much you liked him. How you wanted to just grab his face and kiss it. How you want to hold him close when you fall asleep. How you just want to hold his hand everywhere you went.

"Oi, did Y/n die on the table?" Kuroo says, pointing out how zoned out you were.

"She's overthinking," Akaashi doesn't look up from his laptop to say.

"What are you thinkin' about?" Bokuto asks.

"A boy," You say simply. "How no guy would date me."

"Hey, don't say that," Kuroo says. "There's plenty of guys who'd date you."

"Sure, a guy would date a girl who has three guy best friends," You say sarcastically.

"Well, your personality is great, right guys?" He responds.

"Definitely," Akaashi closes his laptop to pay attention to you.

"Well yeah, but I'd never date you or someone like you," Bokuto didn't bother looking away from the game. A sharp ache hits your chest hearing those words. You move your face to hide your lips and you shut your eyes.

"Bo!" Kuroo punches his arm.

"What?" Bokuto says. "I don't like her like that. Plus, it's unlawful."

"The fuck you mean by unlawful?" Kuroo raised his eyebrow.

"I mean I don't necessarily like her more than a friend. I don't want to date someone exactly like her, it'd be weird," Bokuto pauses the game. "Also, rule number seventeen, no dating in the friend group, remember? No broken hearts, no ruined besties?"

Rule seventeen, "no broken hearts" also known as no dating in the friend group. This only really applies to you dating one of the boys but you still had it to avoid any unrequited feelings for someone. The rule was made to ensure no broken hearts take over the group's vibe.

"He's not wrong," You mumbled. "I'm tired. I'm gonna go home." You stood up to leave.

"Wait, let me walk you home, it's late," Bokuto offered. You didn't respond other than leaving without saying goodbye to the boys. "Y/n- Wait for me-"

You picked up the pace outside as you walked away from Bokuto's place. You kept your hands in your pocket as you walked. It was a busy night in Tokyo, you could hear the traffic and trains. The silence from walking alone was killing you.

The words Bokuto said rang in your ear. You were right about how he would've reacted but you never thought it'd be so harsh. What was so bad about you that he didn't want any romantic connection to you? You couldn't help but feel worse about your feelings. They're useless now that you know he doesn't like you.

Since the day Bokuto revealed he didn't like you, you had to remind yourself that you can't like him anymore. That the built-up admirations for him meant nothing.

Bokuto won a game against a school in the prelims. He looked so good playing and you wanted to go up and hug him like you always do. He doesn't like you, you're doing too much.

He needs help studying for an upcoming exam. You would've offered to help and end up playing video games afterward or late night food runs. He doesn't like you, Akaashi can help him study.

He asks if you want to go get some food after practice. You would've said yes so you could spend time with him like normal. He doesn't like you, turn down his offer and lie.

There was one thing that caught his attention. In the middle of the group spending time together, Bokuto was talking to you guys about a girl he might go out with. "The only problem is she said that if I date her, I can't talk to Y/n," Bokuto says.

"Do you really like her Bo?" Akaashi asks.

"Yeah, she makes me happy," Bokuto scrolled through the girl's social media to show Akaashi. To keep yourself from crying, you chose not to look at his phone.

"If you like her, then it's alright," You say without looking up from your homework.

"Y/n, what did you just say?" Bokuto says.

"If you like her a lot and you know she'll make you happy, go for it. I've been busy enough with work, I haven't been able to hang with you guys as much. I think it'll be alright," You sighed.

"Y/n," Akaashi says sympathetically.

"Don't say that," Bokuto says. "Rule one, dude!"

"Rule twenty," You smiled. You closed your book before leaving the library. The boys were stunned as you left. Bokuto stood up to stop you but Kuroo grabbed his arm.

Rule twenty, "4U" or the sacrifice rule. The final verse of the rulebook. Only use it when you know it's necessary. If you know it'll guarantee happiness for the other, you must sacrifice that one thing for them. This rule overrides all previous rules.

In this case, you gave up your friendship for Bokuto's love life. You knew the pain it'd cost you, but you also knew this would make him happy. A different girl in his life, a better girl.

What would've been worse, letting the man you love lose a girl he's falling for or let him go to make him happier? You couldn't believe what you did. So much so that you cried on the train ride home as well as the walk. You hid your sobs by putting on a face mask and put up your hood.

That night, you received multiple calls from the group. Bokuto called and texted you the most. You put your phone on silent as you finished your homework. You crawled into bed to see the missed notifications.

Rooster head (12)

Missed Calls

Study Guide (7)

Missed Calls

Owl Brain (28)

Missed Calls

Owl Brain (30)

Text Messages

You sighed and locked your phone. You tried your hardest to sleep away the pain but you want to just scream. There was no stopping your tears, so you let out all the hurt and let yourself go. Your eyes grew puffy and you were running out of tissues.

A small knock on your door disrupted your thoughts. You wipe away your tears and walked over to the door. You open it to find Kuroo standing before you. "Figured you didn't want to see us," He said. "Why do you have the lights off?"

"Because," You sniffled. Kuroo flicked on the lights to reveal your tear-stained cheeks and your stuffy nose.

"Holy shit- Y/n, why on Earth are you crying?" He puts his hands on your shoulders and tries to get you to look at him.

"Bokuto," You say softly. Your voice shuddered at the sound of his name. "I liked him a lot. More than a friend."

"Y/n-" He didn't want to interrupt you.

"Bokuto made me happy, he made me think that there could be something. He could never like a girl like me. He said so himself. I'm just a dumb stupid girl in love," You were frustrated. "I just wanted to show him how much he meant to me. How he made my days better. How I loved going out with him in the middle of the night. How I loved hugging him after games. He's just an amazing dude, but that stupid- that stupid rulebook! I would've confessed if it weren't for that fucking rule seventeen. I'm just some idiotic best friend who fell in love with him. I just wish he'd like me back but he likes some other girl and I can't do anything about it because he's-"

"Y/n stop," Kuroo grabs your shoulders. "Stop."

"Wh-why?" You ask as he moves to the side. You notice Akaashi and Bokuto standing behind him. Your eyes widen at the sight and your brain shifted into panic mode. You pushed Kuroo out and slammed the door afterward. You locked the door, putting your back against it. As you slid down the door, you turned off the lights.

"Y/n, open the door," Bokuto knocked.

"Go away," You sniffled. You hid your face in your knees as you cried. Exposing your feelings to your crush without even realising was truly embarassing.

"Let's talk," Bokuto leaned against the door as he pleaded. "Please."

"No," You stood up and walked over to your bed. You pulled the sheets over your entire body.

"I'm not leaving until you talk to me," Bokuto says. He turns to the other boys in hopes of thinking of something to get you out. "Can you guys leave me and Y/n? I might have to stay here all night."

"You're stubborn, but be nice to her," Akaashi says. "Let's go Kuroo."

The two boys leave as Bokuto sat at the base of your door. His back was against the wall, his head pointed towards the floor. "Y/n, I know you don't want to talk to me but just hear me out will you?" He started. You sat up to hear his words. "I didn't know how you felt, I don't think any of us did. I'd be scared to confess too, especially how close we are. I like when you come to my games, when we go out past midnight, and everything in between. I just- I can't lose you. I know you used rule twenty, but- but- fuck the rulebook. I can't let you walk out of my life just for me to date someone else. I don't want to date a girl who drives my best friend away."

You opened the door slightly to see Bokuto sitting. "That's all I'll ever be to you though, a best friend," You say softly. Bokuto stood up at the sound of your voice and looked down at you.

"Y/n," His voice lowered as he saw your puffy eyes. "Can I come in?" You nodded before turning toward your desk. You turn on the lamp before hopping on the bed. Bokuto sits at the end of the bed.

"How'd you guys even get in?" You tried to change the subject.

"Your parents let us in before they left the house," Bokuto chuckled. He couldn't keep his normal energetic mood up as he turned to see how gloomy you were being. "Y/n, why didn't you tell me how you felt?"

"I didn't want to ruin our friendship," You sighed. You began to fiddle with the sleeves of your hoodie. Bokuto scoots closer to you and you pulled the comforter against your body.

"Did you mean what you said? All of it?" He asked.

"I did," You mumbled. "I like holding you after games, being dumbasses in stores, and just being with you. Every time I've been around you my day gets better. I know you don't like me like that but it's the truth...When you said you'd never date a person like me, it hurt. Like a lot...I thought Kuroo of all people would've said that considering how mean I get with him. But you? I wasn't expecting to hear that."

"I-I'm sorry," Bokuto looks at your hands.

"You don't have to be," You stopped tugging at your sleeves to admire the chipped nail polish on your hand. "It's your feelings."

"No," He starts. "I'm sorry for treating you like shit recently. I've been lying to you, and it was stupid how I handled it."

"What do you mean?" You looked up to see Bokuto staring at his own hands.

"Everytime I've been mean to you or dismissed your feelings was cause- cause I like you. I didn't know how to tell you or act," He says. "I mean it. From when I told you I'd never date you...

"Really Bokuto?" Kuroo groaned. "I'd never date you or someone like you? A little harsh don't you think?"

"Considering he's whipped for her I didn't think he'd be so mean," Akaashi says. "Why do you still follow rule seventeen when you know she's the girl you want to be with?"

"Because she and I made the rule, it's stupid but what else am I supposed to say?" Bokuto threw his head back. "I fucked up, didn't I?"

"Just a tad," Akaashi says.

To when I was 'showing' Akaashi photos of the girl I liked? It wasn't anyone else, it was just a celebrity I was showing him. I wanted to see what you'd do if you heard I liked someone else. I'm like, in love with you. I've been in love with you before the whole rulebook. When we came up with rule seventeen, I didn't want to break the rules. I didn't think you'd use my own rule against me. For that, I fucked up and hurt you. I'm sorry."

"Are you- I don't believe you," You looked away from him. Bokuto shifts his body to grab his phone out of his pocket. "How could you love me before the rule book?"

"Here, look at my phone," You grabbed it and noticed the lockscreen of the group of you. "Now unlock it."

You unlock the phone, his password was his birthday, to see you as his lockscreen. More specifically when you fell asleep on Bokuto. The photo was the two of you cuddled up, asleep after a long day to which Kuroo took a photo of.

"Best friends shouldn't be cuddling," You snicker.

"You're smiling," He points out. "I mean it when I say I fell for you. I love seeing you happy and I don't want to lose you over my stupid lies."

"You really mean it?" You ask. Bokuto nods as you hand him back the phone. You began to admire him as the waves of relief hit you. "Y'know what, fuck the stupid rulebook."

You sat up and pulled Bokuto by the collar, crashing your lips into his. His hand drops his phone as he snakes his hand around your waist. Your hands settle and wraps around his neck as your lips moved together in sync.

It felt like heaven kissing Bokuto's soft lips for the first time. Feeling how close he was to you made your cheeks full of color. Bokuto finds himself pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss.

After a few moments of making out, you pull away for air. "I love you," Bokuto whispered. "I'm sorry for hurting you and I just want to see you smile. Please let me make it up to you and be the reason you smile?"

"I love you too," You placed small kisses on his cheek before resting your chin on his shoulder. "Promise you won't lie to me again?"

"I promise," He says before softly nuzzling into your neck.

"Bo?" You ask.

"Hm?"

"I know it's late but, can we go get something to eat?" You say into his shoulder.

"Anything for you," He chuckled.

taglist: @amillionfandoms-onlyoneme @just-a-siiimp @d0llpie @elianetsantana

[m3kuroshirt]

Sharp Darts and Wilting Flowers

GrimmIchi Weekend Challenge 3

Challenged by @kuroosden

Genre/trope: angst with a happy ending

Required words: grey, flower

Word count: 3551

Posted to AO3 as well, under the same title, on this account: M34GS

Warnings: some graphic description of injury and pain, death

The only thing he remembered was a wilting flower and the colour grey. Ichigo blinked, looking about the room he was in. It appeared to be a well-decorated elevator. The floor was covered in a plush red carpet and the wall panels were the colour of mahogany. Gold trim lined the edges, but whether it was solid gold or just gold-plated he couldn’t tell. All at once, the elevator jolted and Ichigo realized it had stopped…though he hadn’t known it was even moving at all until that moment.

A small, bright ding! and the doors slid open. Ichigo stepped out hesitantly. He scanned the room he stepped into; a modern-looking place in direct contrast with the old-fashioned elegance of the elevator. The lighting was tinted blue, and all around he could see empty chairs and tables. Turning to his right, Ichigo could see another man, tall with blue hair and piercing blue eyes, who looked just as confused as he felt. Something about the man seemed familiar, but try as he might, Ichigo couldn’t quite remember his name.

“Uh. Hi,” he greeted the man, hoping that would lead to conversation, where he could learn something. The man tore his gaze from the scenery and locked his eyes on Ichigo. And damn. DAMN. That was not an unpleasant gaze to have fixed on him. Ichigo swallowed and smiled nervously. The other man narrowed his eyes and panic seized Ichigo for a moment before the blue-haired man spoke.

“…Do I…know you?” his tone wasn’t angry…it was wholeheartedly confused, maybe even frustrated. As if he was struggling with remembering things, just like Ichigo. Ichigo shrugged.

“I, uh, don’t know? I don’t remember much of anything…I have no idea how I got here or even where ‘here’ is,” he mumbled. He ran a hand through his hair, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Way to sound like a freak in front of the hot guy, he chastised himself. I should’ve just said no. But to his surprise, the other man relaxed.

“I’m not the only one, then,” he muttered. He stopped looking at Ichigo and glanced around the place. “…place is fucking creepy as hell,” he continued.

“Eh? And here I thought it was really nice,” a lilting voice cut through the tense atmosphere. Both men started and whirled around to see…a person. They were standing there, dressed in a beautiful, flowing gown, blue and shimmery. Their hair was jaw-length and trimmed to frame their face, and they smiled at the two men. Ichigo felt suddenly self-conscious. Is everyone here hot as hell? He wondered. He shifted awkwardly on his feet. “I rather like the colour blue. And don’t you find the theme…entrancing?” the person asked them. Ichigo blinked and looked around again, finding himself wanting to please this beautiful person.

“Uh. I…uh, yeah,” he replied very intelligently.

“So, you own this place?” The blue haired man demanded. “You know why we’re here then, how we got here?” He stepped forward, standing right next to Ichigo now. And Ichigo felt the urge to lean against the man, almost as a reassurance; as if no matter what this stranger had in store for them, he would back up this man with his life. And the strangest thought came to him that maybe, just maybe, the blue haired man wouldn’t mind. But he stopped himself when he caught the stranger in the dress smiling at him with what had to be a knowing smile.

They know something about me. The thought slid into his brain unbidden, and, try as he might, Ichigo couldn’t seem to dispel it. His fingers twitched at his sides and his mouth was dry.

“If you really want to know,” the stranger answered as they turned and gestured for the men to follow, “then come over here.” The stranger turned fully away from them and started to walk toward a bar. Ichigo exchanged a look with the blue haired man.

“Do…do you think we should?” he asked. The blue haired man frowned.

“We don’t have much choice. Unless you got any ideas?” Ichigo shook his head and the other man nodded grimly. “I thought so.” He ran a hand through his blue hair and Ichigo snuck a glance at his forearm. He could see the faint outline of veins, and his heart gave an odd little leap. “Grimmjow.”

Ichigo blinked. “Uh?”

The other man rolled his eyes. “It’s my name, dumbass. I think we can be on a first name basis, given the situation. Plus, if shit goes sideways, you’re the only one I think I can trust here,” he clarified. Ichigo blinked again.

“Oh. Uh. Nice to meet you, Grimmjow. Uh. I’m Ichigo.” Grimmjow’s name seemed to roll off his tongue with an easy familiarity, but Ichigo couldn’t quite figure out why. Grimmjow just nodded after Ichigo introduced himself, then stepped forward to follow where the prettily dressed stranger had gone. Ichigo fell into step behind him, feeling oddly much safer than when he’d been alone in the elevator.

They found the stranger at the bar, perched on a barstool and sipping from a martini glass. Another person stood behind the bar, a bald man with sharp, angry-looking features, sporting red eyeliner that only seemed to make him appear more fierce. The stranger in the dress motioned for them to sit, so they each took a seat. The man behind the bar looked each of them up and down for a second, before speaking.

“Wanna drink?” he asked them casually, his voice much more rough than the smooth sound of his companion’s. Grimmjow gave one shake of his head, and Ichigo followed suit. No telling what would really be in the drink if they took one.

“We want to know why we’re here,” Ichigo countered, doing his best to appear intimidating and not as nervous as he felt. The man nodded. He wiped down the bar counter with a towel.

“To play a game,” he answered simply.

Grimmjow slammed a hand on the counter. “Don’t fuck with us! ‘To play a game’?! The hell does that mean, you fucker,” he snarled. Ichigo watched with wide eyes. The pretty stranger sipped their drink, not even fazed by the reaction. Behind the bar, the bald man glared.

“Shut the hell up and listen then, idiot,” he snapped.

Oh good. Two hot-heads in the same room. This will go well, Ichigo thought dryly. Grimmjow quieted but continued glaring at the baldy. Unexpectedly, it was the pretty stranger who spoke up.

“You two will be playing a game where your lives are at stake,” they stated, as calm as if observing that Grimmjow’s hair was blue and Ichigo’s eyes were brown. “You will play against each other in a game that is chosen at random, and the loser will die.” Ichigo felt his brain come to a screeching halt.

“Wait. What?” he demanded. He slid off his seat and stood towering over the pretty stranger. “You want us to play for the right to live? That’s fucked up! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” The stranger stared back at him without even blinking, their eyes a dark and mesmerizing slate grey.

“If you don’t play, you both die,” they answered simply.

“Bring it. I’ll fucking take you both down,” Grimmjow snarled, standing now as well, shoulder to shoulder with Ichigo. The bald man rolled his eyes. Before either of them could react, a gun barrel was pointed at each of them; one held by the baldy, and one by the pretty stranger.

“Unless you want to both end up stone-dead, you’ll do as you’re told,” the pretty stranger replied with a sly smile. “My name is Yumichika, and this is Ikkaku,” they gestured to the bald man behind the bar. “We’ll be your hosts tonight. Now come, it’s time to choose your game.” Yumichika waved to a small roulette wheel Ichigo hadn’t noticed before. On it were game titles that sounded like what a child would play in a cheesy horror movie. Death billiards? Really? He thought to himself bitterly. A faint part of him wished, hoped, dared to believe that this could be a dream; a nightmare.

A button was pressed and the wheel jumped to life, spinning in a flash of colour and light. Ichigo felt his throat seal shut, as if this somehow made it more real than the guns did, more real than the heat of the man standing next to him. This was not a dream.

The wheel stopped. Ichigo blinked and read the bright shining title. Death Seven Darts. He’d barely comprehended the words when there was a quiet rumble. The floor ahead of them split and two dart boards rose from the ground. Along with them came two little trays, each with seven darts. Ikakku stepped out from behind the bar.

“The rules are simple,” he stated, his tone rather indifferent. “You each start with 500 points. You throw the darts and points are deducted from your opponent according to the score you get. The one with the least points when all the darts are gone is the loser.” Ichigo felt a shiver run down his spine. The dart boards were decorated with grotesque images; a picture of human organs adorning each possible space to hit. He really wants us to be constantly thinking about how one of us will die, doesn’t he? Ichigo thought with a frown. We could both refuse to play. We’d be killed…but that’s better than the other option…survivor’s guilt or being sentenced to die by the only person in the same situation as me…

As if reading his thoughts, Grimmjow bumped his shoulder. Ichigo blinked and looked up at him. “You got something to live for?” he asked Ichigo, his blue gaze burning into Ichigo’s own brown eyes.

“I…I don’t know. I can’t remember,” Ichigo answered, fear sliding down his spine and spreading along his nerves like oil; slick and gross.

“Then that means you must have. Whatever they did to us…they wouldn’t have messed with our heads if it wasn’t important to their little ‘game’,” Grimmjow reasoned. He glanced to the dartboards and ran a hand through his hair. Then he looked at Ichigo with resolve. “Don’t hold back.” Grimmjow turned away from him and walked over to one set of darts. Ichigo felt his heart sinking. They were really going to do this. His stomach churned and he chewed his lip as he walked up to his own set.

Grimmjow picked up one of the darts. Ichigo couldn’t stop watching him as he inspected it, probably checking to see if it was some sort of trap. Then he took aim…and launched the dart. It hit the board, and pain burst in Ichigo’s skull, behind his left eye. He screamed and grabbed at it, the pain piercing through his head. Ichigo sank to his knees, barely hearing the shout of his name, barely feeling the arms wrap around his shoulders. The pain blossomed into an aching throb and he choked on a sob.

That’s when the images started.

An orange lily in a vase, beautiful but wilting. A warm, inviting kitchen, one he instinctively knew was his. And warm arms wrapped around him. A low voice murmuring in his ear. And Ichigo was smiling.

Ichigo was not smiling when he came back to the present moment. He was on his knees, leaning forward, someone holding him from behind to support him. He gasped, the shock of pain pouring over him once more like cold water.

“-Chigo…Ichigo! What’s wrong?!” the voice that shouted was familiar and yet strange and the thought made Ichigo dizzy. He frowned as the pain faded to a dull ache, finally able to think and speak.

Ichigo looked up to see the indifferent faces of Yumichika and Ikkaku watching them. He glared at them. “What…” he gasped out, still catching his breath, “what the…fuck…did you do to me?” They watched him with unchanging faces. Grimmjow’s arms tightened around him.

“The fuck is this bullshit?” he growled. “I thought we weren’t dying until the game is over.” Yumichika raised an eyebrow.

“Are you saying he’s dead? And yet, isn’t he talking to you?” they asked in their low sultry voice. The arms around him squeezed once more, and Ichigo reached up to rest a trembling hand on them. He felt Grimmjow stiffen and then release him.

Ichigo turned around to see him offer his hand. He took the offered hand and Grimmjow helped him stand. “Sorry,” the blue haired man apologized. “I didn’t mean to go overboard…but when I saw you were hurt…I reacted without thinking.” His voice was low and his cheeks were pink. He refused to look Ichigo in the eye. Ichigo swallowed.

“No…it’s alright. I, uh,” he started but hesitated and glanced at Yumichika and Ikkaku. Ikkaku spoke up.

“Whatever you say, we won’t be intervening,” he stated shortly. His voice was rough but not mean. Ichigo licked his lips and started again, facing Grimmjow now.

“I think I got a memory back. When the pain came on. There was a flower…and someone behind me. It was brief but it felt important.”

Grimmjow blinked. “…is that so?” Ichigo nodded. Grimmjow’s lips twisted as he thought, his brow furrowed. For some reason, Ichigo wanted to press his fingers to Grimmjow’s face and smooth the creases away, help him relax. He did not give in to that urge. Grimmjow gestured to the tray holding Ichigo’s darts. “Your turn.”

Ichigo grimaced. “I…don’t want to,” he mumbled quietly. Grimmjow tensed.

“Yeah. But it’s the only way one of us is getting out of here alive. And,” he paused, as if mulling over his words before plowing on, “and I’d like to see one of my memories. If I’m able.” Ichigo nodded once. Then he picked up the dart, aimed, and threw it.

There was a shout and then Grimmjow doubled over, clutching his left arm. Ichigo was torn between staying away out of guilt and rushing over to him, even though he knew running to Grimmjow would do no good. There wasn’t a thing he could do to ease the pain. Yet he ended up running to the other man’s side.

“Grimmjow?” he called hesitantly. There was an answering grunt and Ichigo reached out a gentle hand to rest on his shoulder. Grimmjow turned his gaze upward, still hunched over, curled protectively around his hand. Ichigo wet his lips absentmindedly as he stared into those intense blue eyes. “Did it work?” Grimmjow gave one nod, his grimace easing, and straightened his posture.

“Yeah.” His voice sounded choked, almost broken. And Ichigo had a feeling it wasn’t the pain.

“What did you see?”

There was a beat of silence far too long to be comfortable. Then, “I think I was going to propose to someone. I saw a ring.”

Ichigo felt his stomach plummet. Violent emotions swirled inside his head. Anger. Fear. Jealousy. Guilt. Resignation. He removed his hand from Grimmjow’s shoulder. “You should win.” Ichigo wasn’t even aware he’d thought the words before they were falling out of his mouth unbidden. Grimmjow shook his head.

“Nuh-uh. You aren’t going to throw this game to give me the win. No fucking way, not with both our lives on the line,” he snapped.

“You have someone important!” Ichigo argued.

“So do you! Someone who bought you flowers! What if you’re already married? Are you going to say your actual spouse’s feelings don’t matter as much as my possible spouse? Huh???”

The two of them stared at each other for a long moment. Finally, Ichigo was the one to look away. “Alright. Fine. I won’t throw the game for you,” he muttered. Grimmjow nodded with satisfaction. Ichigo gestured to his tray. “Your turn then.” He braced himself as Grimmjow picked up the dart.

From that point on, the game was a blur. They rotated between bursts of excruciating pain and blurs of memories. Ichigo did his best to piece them together.

A wilting flower. He wanted to get more. He wanted to go to the florist and pick up some more and maybe some nutrients for the water this time. All he had to do was convince someone…

***

Scenery flashed past them as they drove. It was a city, that much he was sure of. The sun shone down brightly and kids ran along the sidewalks. Something warmed his hand and when he looked at it, it was another hand holding his. Strong, rough, but gentle, the hand squeezed his own while its partner rested on the steering wheel.

***

A voice was talking, and he tried to hang on to every word. ‘A special night’ and ‘reservations’ but Ichigo couldn’t pick out all the words; distracted by a shadow to his right.

***

Someone was screaming. Who was it? Who was screaming? There was red everywhere, scattered and splashed among grey pieces of metal and plastic on dark asphalt. And a spot of blue. Who was screaming?

He was. Ichigo was screaming. The blue across from him came into focus and he could see now, the blue hair, blue eyes, a hand that reached for him, covered in blood, mouth open, trying to speak…

And then the loud sound of squealing brakes.

Turning. Slowly. As if stuck in molasses.

A semi truck careening toward them with no chance of stopping.

Darkness.

Ichigo felt tears slide down his cheeks as he came back to the present.

“Ichigo! What’s wrong? Did you see something else?” Grimmjow’s voice cut through the buzzing in his ears. Up to this point, they’d been sharing their memories with each other, finding they had both been in similar situations…never once had Ichigo imagined they’d been going through all of it together…and that they were…

“…dead,” the word tumbled from his lips before he could stop it. Grimmjow froze.

“What?”

Ichigo turned to Yumichika and Ikkaku. He hoped he was wrong, gaze pleading as he looked at each of them. “We’re already dead, aren’t we?” Yumichika nodded once.

“What? That! That’s impossible!” Grimmjow protested, but even as he spoke Ichigo turned to him and saw the realization steal across his face. The last memory sunk in for him too, then, he reasoned.

“When people die,” Yumichika stated calmly, as if teaching a course in a university, “one of two things happens to their soul. They either go to the void, to be lost forever in darkness, or they are reincarnated.”

Ikkaku stretched his neck from side to side and continued the speech. “Sometimes, when two people die at once, they get sent here, to play a game and be assigned either the void or reincarnation, according to the judgement of the arbiter. I am the arbiter.”

“So, you’re going to judge if we go to the void or get to live again?” Grimmjow asked slowly. Ikkaku gave a short nod.

“That’s right.”

Ichigo frowned. “If either of us is reincarnated…would we lose our memories of each other?” he whispered.

“That is correct,” Yumichika confirmed. Ichigo felt something snap inside his chest, like a string that was tugged until it broke.

He turned to Grimmjow. “I…Grimm…I just got these memories back…I don’t wanna lose them.” His voice was ragged with the tears building up and his throat ached the more he tried to hold them back. Grimmjow shook his head.

“You think I’m gonna let you say you want to go to the void, dumbass? Like hell I wanna see your soul lost in darkness forever. Think about what you’re saying, you idiot,” he answered, but there was no bite to his words, and he walked over to Ichigo and wrapped his arms around him, holding him close. Ichigo curled into Grimmjow’s arms.

“But,” he mumbled, “what if only one of us can be reincarnated?” Grimmjow tightened his arms around him and for a fleeting moment Ichigo felt safe and secure. That came crashing down with his lover’s next words.

“Then it should be you.”

Ichigo pulled back in alarm, mouth open to protest, but he was cut off by Ikkaku.

“I’ve decided. It’s time for the two of you to go back to the elevators. They will take you to your assigned destinations,” the bald man interrupted. His tone was final, and his face offered no consolation to either of the young men.

***

Yumichika watched the two young men step into their respective elevators. The two looked grim, but there was a resignation about them as well, as if they were both accepting of their fate, though they had no idea yet what it might be. Yumichika hummed to themself thoughtfully as the doors closed, remembering how the couple had hugged each other tightly, as a ‘good-bye’, only moments before. They watched as both elevators started upward, whisking the occupants away to be reincarnated in the living world.

“Do you think…Ikkaku…do you think they’ll find each other again in the living world?” They asked, their tone feigning indifference. In truth, Yumichika felt a nervous thrum of anticipation as they waited for Ikkaku’s answer.

“Dunno,” came the gruff reply. There was a pause. And then, “I hope so.”

[hobidreams]

The Early Shift | Last Cup {M}

the last sip of coffee is always the most bittersweet.

pairing: barista!yoongi x reader genre: smut, angst, sprinkling of fluff words: 9.5k contains: coffee shop au, enemies to lovers, jealous/awkward yoongi, condomless sex, softness (ish), dirty talk, spanking, oral (f), hair pulling, the truth index: first sip - second taste - last cup

“H-Hyung?” The word is foreign on your tongue as you swivel, catch sight of Yoongi’s face. He’s gone ashen, stony as he barrels towards you two, abandoning the inventory checklist with a clatter onto the counter.

Yoongi’s hands dig into your wrist as he forces you behind him, taking your place instead right in front of Jiwon’s still smiling face. Except the grin is now somewhat plastered in place on his handsome lips. “Jiwon.”  Yoongi drops the familiar term, his eyes more combative than you’ve ever seen them. Combative, yet not with the fires of passion he usually turns on you. Instead, a chill so cold, so empty you hardly recognize it.

“Ahhh...” Jiwon exhales, covering his mouth with a broad palm, scratching the skin just beneath his lips with a groomed fingernail. “It’s been a while… I’m still your hyung, you know.”

“Bullshit.” Yoongi whips the word at him, but Jiwon doesn’t back away.

“I thought you hated the night shift.”

Yoongi scoffs. “Is that why you’re here then? To ruin something else for me behind my back?”

The tension is so weighty it settles in the pit of your stomach as you look from man to man, neither one offering any explanation. Deadlocked in a standoff of stares or glares depending on the man. Their only weapons are their words, which could cut just as deeply as any blade.

This isn’t good. Especially because there’s still a customer left in the store.

So you throw yourself into the fray. “Yoongi, what’s wrong?” You ask in what you hope is a calm voice. “How do you know Jiwon?”

The second Jiwon’s name comes out of your mouth, Yoongi jerks towards you. “I don’t. Nothing’s happening. He’s just leaving.”

“Yoongi, you can’t just kick out a customer.” You feel bad – Jiwon is starting to look like a kicked puppy with his lips drawn down, somber.

“Can and will.”

“Yoongi…” Jiwon clenches his coffee. “Listen—”

He’s cut off when a blare of familiar song whips through the café. “I KNOW, we don’t talk together!” Volume turned up to the max, the music reverberates off the walls themselves.

“Sorry!” The only customer squeaks, the ringtone obviously hers as she answers the call. “Hello?” She hurries out the door, leaving awkward silence in her wake.

You didn’t think it was possible, but Yoongi’s scowl deepens further. It just had to be this song, the damn reminder of what he’s lost. The lines carved into his face are so hardened and painful you wish you could offer relief. Instead, you swallow that look and all its implications. Then something clicks in your brain.

“Wait, Yoongi...” You gesture to Jiwon, hands slightly shaking, “is he…”

Yoongi grunts, irritated that he can’t hide it any longer. “It’s your lucky day. Meet DJ Alex.” His voice is deadpan. “Or should I say, Do Jiwon.”

“Do… Jiwon.” You repeat in a whisper. “DJ.”

“Yup.”

Another silence, but this time it covers you in its heavy grasp. This Jiwon. This charming, handsome Jiwon that you almost asked out, imagined yourself possibly dating. This Jiwon that’s actually nothing but a thief.

Said man rakes a hand through his dark hair. “Yoongi, let me explain myself, please.”

With another scoff, Yoongi breaks the stare-off. He turns. His eyes find yours of all things and he just exhales as if it’s all too much. “Jiwon. Just… Just go.” He steps away from the counter, tensed fingers finding your wrist. He means to drag you both into the backroom. Running away from this mess like he always has.

But you’re not done yet.

Your mind is exploding with questions, with emotions bolstered by the absolute fatigue in Yoongi’s eyes. Why isn’t he defending himself? He so eagerly goes head to head with you but here? Here is where he loses his nerve? He’s just going to let Jiwon get away with it all without so much as a scolding? When Jiwon took his best chance away from him and his inspiration with it?

No. No damn way are you going to stand there and take that.

You jerk your hand free. Before Yoongi can grab you again, you storm back to the counter. “What the fuck, Jiwon?”

Some carnal part of you relishes the shock in Jiwon’s eyes when your voice whips at him, respectful honorifics dropped.

“What the actual fuck? You just come back here just to offer excuses about what you did?” Your finger jabs at the air over his chest. “If you want to call yourself his hyung, then you should make yourself fucking deserving of that name!” Your volume raises with every word you sucker punch at him. “But no, instead, you betrayed him! Just abandoned him!”

Jiwon’s mouth flaps but nothing comes out.

“How dare you come back into his life and remind him of all that? Of the shitty thing you did and are still enjoying now?” You’re on a roll, apparently. You didn’t even know you had it in you to defend Yoongi so vehemently when you usually spend your time doing the exact opposite. But the resignation in the way he bites his lip scrapes at your heart.

“Yoongi trusted you. You were his partner!” Jiwon shrivels with every syllable. “The only thing worse than a coward, which you are for dodging him, is a goddamn liar.”

You’re left slightly breathless at the end of your tirade, tense hands splayed across the bar You glare at Jiwon, but he refuses to meet your expression, your anger. Instead, he burns a hole in the counter for half a minute before he dares to looks up. Then his eyes flicker to Yoongi. You stiffen, ready for an explosion.

“…You’re right.” When Jiwon finally speaks, his voice has lost all flirtatious flair. It sounds small, pathetic. “I did a shitty thing. A shitty, selfish thing.”

What an ass—

Wait.

Wait, what?

“Y-Yeah!” You can’t quite hold on to the full amount of anger in your tone when he’s not feeding your fire. But having Yoongi in your peripheral vision keeps you from moving an inch. “Damn right it was shitty!”

“The producers, they just. Fuck.” Jiwon sighs, gritting his teeth. “Fuck, I know I can’t take back what I did. But. But Yoongi…” Your hands clench into fists, ready to counter whatever excuse he comes up with. Or his anger, which would be apt considering the venom you’ve thrown his way. “Yoongi, I’m sorry.”

You actually take a step back.

“I’m sorry. I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

This is… Not what you were expecting. And judging by the way Yoongi’s mouth just falls open, he hadn’t predicted it either. He just keeps blinking as if he figures he’ll wake up at any minute.

Jiwon stutters something unintelligible as he fishes in his jacket for a wallet. It’s much fumbling before he drops a white card onto the table, his name embossed on the front. “I-If you want, I can introduce you to some connections and we can get your music out there, Yoongi. Let me help you! Please.” He pushes the card across the counter. “Call me. Let me make up for this.”

Oh, hell no.

You take one look at the flimsy card stock and snatch it up. “He doesn’t need your pity!” You scrunch it up in your fist. Whip the paper ball towards the door. “Just get out!”

Finally, Jiwon gets the point. He gives Yoongi one last look (regret? sorrow? who the hell cares) before he whirls around. Even leaves his coffee behind in his haste. The chime goes off and now, you are left alone together.

You both stare out the door for a long minute, neither of you sure how to proceed. Eventually, your fingers stitch together, oddly flustered as you slowly turn to fully face Yoongi. He seems to have recovered from the initial jolt. He’s closed his flabbergasted mouth, opting for a thin-lipped glower instead. Except this one seems directed at you.

You feel like you should say something, but what? The tension nips at your mind, begging to be shattered. Needs to be, if you are going to move forward.

“Yoongi—”

He beats you to it. “You know what? I don’t need your pity either.” Then he disappears into the backroom, door slamming decisively shut.

He just leaves you standing there like a fish caught on a deadly hook, stuck with bleeding thoughts, hands numb, trembling. You weren’t expecting gratitude, no. Still, you didn’t think he would react like… this, either. Not when the other option was to let Jiwon go.

But you don’t see Yoongi again until an hour has passed. Those two lines, spat like poison, become the last words Yoongi says to you for the rest of the night as he stalks, still mute, to the OPEN sign. He whips it CLOSED precisely one second after the proper time and begins the mopping duties without even so much as a glance your way.

You can’t muster the courage to even try knocking on the wall he’s suddenly re-erected between you; all you can do is look down at the change you’re counting and try to not let it get to you.

You finish the evening in this same solitude. The cleaning gets done. The store is locked, shuttered. Eventually, you go your separate ways in the darkness without so much as a wave of acknowledge. Yoongi’s hands remain stuck in his pockets, closed off, while you pick at your nails in nervous habit as you walk away from him.

Tomorrow, Yoongi is back on his regular shift. Meanwhile, you still have two weeks of your night shift trade left to go. That means your paths don’t have any opportunity to cross.

And so, they simply don’t.

To your credit, you try your best not to think about Yoongi. But your mind just keeps playing that scene over and over again, determined to force you to analyze every word, every gesture. And that song is making a comeback on the radio, if only to serve no other purpose than to antagonize you.

Perfect. Just freakin’ perfect.

You make it all of a week.

“Hey Jungkook… Can I ask you something?”

“Always! Shoot.” Jungkook leans against the bar, letting his adorable, earnest smile shine through.

Here goes nothing. “H-Have you spoken to Yoongi at all?” You’re trying your best to keep your voice casual, not wanting to betray the hours of contemplation spent pondering whether or not you should be asking this question in the first place. Clearly, you’ve been real productive these past seven days.

Jungkook doesn’t look surprised at your query. Or maybe he just hides it well. Either way, he nods. “Not much. Just a little bit when our shifts overlap.” His huge eyes may look innocent, but there’s a gleam of mischief as he deliberately refuses to elaborate any further than that.

Brat. He’s not going to make this easy on you. “Is he… Is he okay?”

Jungkook shrugs. “No injuries. He hasn’t gotten into any fistfights.”

“Yah, you know what I mean.” You smack him on the arm.

He laughs, infuriatingly carefree. “Sorry, sorry. But seriously, he just looks normal, maybe a little tired. Then again, I only see him for like half an hour. Not a lot of time to have deep, soul-searching conversations.”

You don’t know what answer you were hoping for, but it still leaves you disappointed. “Hm.”

Hm, indeed. He looks fine, while you’ve been replaying last week over and over again in your mind like a broken record. Cool. That’s totally cool.

“So he hasn’t… talked or asked about me or anything?”

Hoseok, coming up from behind Jungkook, is the one to answer instead. “Well, actually.” It’s comical how your heart soars at that, leaping bounds and valleys from just two words. But you come crashing down when he ultimately ends up shaking his head. “Wait. Sorry, shit. I… can’t tell you.”

Your eyes narrow. “You can’t? So he has said something?”

Hoseok casts his gaze downward. “It’s really not for me to say.” He purposefully smooths out non-existent wrinkles on his apron.

Jungkook’s doe eyes turn on you. “Noona, have you tried just asking him yourself?”

…Kind of. The text you sent a few days, the careful ‘Hey, Yoongi, are you there?’ had gone woefully unanswered. You eventually had to archive the conversation altogether, to prevent your obsessive checking over whether or not he had replied. Altogether, a disaster.

“It’s… It’s fine. It’s whatever,” you end up muttering. Thankfully, the door sounds and you vehemently turn towards the new customer that’s just entered the shop, grateful for the distraction.

You know your coworkers are much too clever to believe your stammered words. But at least they’re kind enough not to probe any further.

It is on a Friday, the last night of your month-long shift swap, that reality smacks you in the face.

Reality is this: you will be forced to face Yoongi in three days, and things remain extremely awkward between you. He is still ignoring you. Not that you can really blame him, after these two weeks to contemplate that decisive moment. While you don’t regret what you said to Jiwon, you probably shouldn’t have stuck your nose into Yoongi’s issue and taken over for him. Should have respected his decision to back off, no matter how unjust.

Which means you should probably apologize.

Just one problem. You hate doing that. Especially to Yoongi.

But you were the one who committed the wrong, so you have to be the one to extend the olive branch. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, nothing like the lattes you prefer but more like a dark roast: rich, full, and awful. That’s how Yoongi had tasted too, his tongue sliding against yours so feverishly like a man possessed. You hadn’t minded the flavor then.

“Hobi, how do you apologize to someone?” You rest your hands on the top of the mop, then your cheek on top of that.

Hoseok tilts his head to the side, a cute “hm?” coming out of his heart-shaped mouth. “Depends on how bad the situation is, I think!”

“Pretty bad, I guess?”

He hums, as if he knows exactly what this is in reference to. Then he raises a finger in triumph, like he’s just discovered the secret to the universe. “Go with a gift! You can never go wrong with a present!”

Hm! You nod approvingly. That’s a perfect idea.

Thus, your Saturday becomes dedicated to making a gift for Yoongi.

Yes, making, because you can’t exactly afford expensive music equipment. You don’t think Yoongi would appreciate a bag of coffee beans from his place of employment. Somehow, a stuffed animal doesn’t seem to fit his aesthetic either; you also really don’t want to add to the clutter of his place. So, your genius mind has settled on creating a mixtape. A playlist full of songs you hope can express how sorry you are, and how you hope to move on from this.

There’s one surprise at the very end of the CD: a piece that’s self produced. It’s just two minutes of you, a shitty phone microphone, and some heartfelt rambling. Look, apologizing is hard, okay? You don’t think you have the gall to do it in person, so this is the next best thing.

The sun is just beginning to set when you reach Yoongi’s apartment, finished present in hand. You’re contemplating whether to knock or just leave the tiny bag you have on the handle. One of these options is easier than the other. But maybe you owe it to him to at least ensure it gets to him.

Your knocks go unanswered.

Eventually, you have to accept that he’s out, a fact that has relief pouring over you. You loop the bag straps around the door. He’ll get it whenever he reaches home, you suppose. And if he chooses to snap it in half without listening to it, well, that’s his prerogative too. You’ve done your part. You’ve been the bigger person.

You manage to get all the way back to your apartment without thinking of the package, blasting music from your headphones to drown out your thoughts. You eat your dinner, watch an episode of the latest KBS drama, water your plants. Hell, you even start actually doing the research for your paper due in three weeks. But throughout it all, you can’t shake the listlessness that sits beneath your skin like an unwanted visitor, ever so often poking you with a sharp stick.

You know too well why it’s there: your damn curiosity that won’t leave you alone.

You want desperately to know if your gift has been received, and how. Will he understand what you’re trying to say? Maybe you should have put your apology at the beginning instead of the end. Maybe you shouldn’t have gone with Super Junior’s Sorry Sorry, even though you needed something in the middle to break up the torrent of sappy songs. Oh god. The what ifs threaten to drive you stark wild for the utter lack of answers. (Though judging by your current state, perhaps they already have.)

“Uggggh, that’s it!” You announce to your succulent, desk chair clattering as you shove viciously to your feet. “I’m going to bed!”

With great, groaning creaks, the elevator doors open on the floor of Yoongi’s apartment. Yoongi drags his exhausted body through them, reeking of smoke, stale cologne, and alcohol, courtesy of the bar he just left. His head is still a little fuzzy, but it’s not too bad. A nice haze. The walk here in the cool night air has already sobered him up some. He just needed to get out of the house. Needed to stop thinking for a while.

But the pressure lingering in his system had refused to budge even after the second shot, fifth drink in total, which was what finally prompted him to get his sorry ass back home. He’s desperate for something to relieve what’s been pent-up, the ugliness building and bubbling uncontrollably inside him these past weeks. Sex distracts him, usually. But a meaningless hookup… that would erase the memories of your pretty mouth on him, the heat of your body tangled up with his. He can’t bring himself to do that. Not that he can admit this, even in his own mind. So, he resigns himself to another night of his fist wrapped around his own length and a mediocre climax.

Yoongi sighs as he rounds the corner, digging in his pocket for his keys. Just as he pulls the ring out, he spots the conspicuous bag tied to his door. Who would be sending gifts like this? Jimin? No, his friend from college is currently out of town, he remembers. But nobody else would leave—he peers inside—a CD of all things, with his name scribbled upon it. This handwriting is familiar, but he can’t quite place it.

He grabs the bag and enters the darkness of his place. He drops his jacket on the couch, then makes his way to his computer. Slides the CD inside the console. Waits.

The first song is something indie, something sorrowful. Yoongi doesn’t recognize it but he gives it a listen. It’s not bad. But the next song is even slower, even sadder. Most definitely not his usual type of music, and for good reason. He cringes at the third piece.

The songs just keep coming, all playing off the same apologetic theme. Whoever put together this playlist has no idea what they’re doing, he thinks. The genres are all over the place, with no coherent flow like a proper mixtape should. They all just happen to contain the word ‘sorry’ in the title or lyrics. “The hell is this,” Yoongi mutters, laughing at the absurdity as he stands up halfway through, deciding to take a shower without even bothering to turn the music off.

Yoongi takes his time beneath the hot water – lets it wash away the grime of the night. It helps remove some of the buzz from his mind. By the time he steps out of the bathroom, he feels almost completely sober. He’s distracted with towelling off his hair; he doesn’t even notice that music is no longer playing until he hears speech.

“...eah, so, I guess what I’m trying to say...”

He freezes.

But that’s your voice.

The voice he hasn’t heard in weeks but could pick out of a crowd in a second. The voice that once hammered on his brain on a daily basis but now douses it in undeniable relief, comfort.

Yoongi is glad no one is around to witness him rushing to the desktop, hurriedly replaying the track that’s currently on. He plugs in his headphones, dragging them over his head even though his hair drips with water.

“Hey, Yoongi.” You sound so uncharacteristically quiet it makes his chest tight. “I-I know you’re trying to avoid me, and I don’t blame you.” He gnaws at his bottom lip as he listens to you explain your thoughts. Even though your tone wavers at certain moments, you just keep pressing on. It makes his chest feel inexplicably tight.

“Yeah, so, I guess what I’m trying to say is I’m sorry. I won’t interfere with your business again. And I won’t cross the professional lines between us anymore. I hope we can still work together. Okay. That’s, uh, all from me. Goodnight.”

Yoongi sits in the silence for all of three seconds before he hits the back button. Plays it again. Then again.

“God damn it!” He rips off the headphones, surges to his feet. “You’re so damn silly. It’s not your fault! How could any of this be your fault?”

But then whose is it?

Jiwon is the easiest culprit. But he’s apologized. He’s trying to move on, even trying to help Yoongi, even though that’s just salt in the wound. The only person still mired inside this self-made prison is Yoongi. He made his home in these concrete walls, punishing himself, thinking it was the easiest way out. Still bitter and trying to pretend like he can just stay angry forever because the only person it fucked up was himself.

But now it’s affecting you.

Hearing your voice like this, it’s all laid out for him. Reality and truth stab him in the gut, forcing him to finally acknowledge how he’s hurt you, the one person who has nothing to gain from helping him, yet continues to do so again and again.

Yoongi rubs at his temples, regret radiating through him in waves. He should have realized it earlier, if only he could have pulled his head out of his ass. Hearing this, hearing your voice with that undercurrent of worry is like a punch to the gut and to his mind, blasting out any residual hesitancy.

You don’t deserve to sit in this uncertainty and pain of misunderstanding any longer.

A text isn’t enough. Nor is a call. He needs to see you. He needs to see you right now and tell you face to face just how sorry he is. How grateful. And maybe he just wants to see your face, because he kind of misses the way you scold him.

Haphazardly dressed, Yoongi rushes out the door, almost forgetting his keys in his haste. His slides slap against the floor as he frantically dials Namjoon, hoping he’s awake to get the address he so desperately needs. He jams his finger into the elevator call button, silently willing it to come faster.

No more, Yoongi thinks. No more running away from the hard shit, from his feelings. This time, he’s running right towards his future.

The clock blinks 1:00AM when you check it next, still as wide awake as when you shuffled beneath your covers two whole hours ago.

Damn it. It’s a good thing you have tomorrow off, because there’s no way in hell you could wake up at the crack of dawn otherwise. Counting sheep has proven to be useless, especially after you get up to Sheep #482 (it’s a cute one. Okay. They’re all cute.) Doing math equations in your head usually gets you conked out pretty quickly from sheer monotony, but it��s also futile tonight. Your mind is much too alive, active, overactive to let you doze off.

Then you hear the knocking.

Well, it’s more like a clatter. The sound of something hard slamming against your door, followed by a few wimpy taps. Yikes. Are you going to get murdered?

You slip out of bed, pick up your baseball bat. Weapon in hand, you creep towards the entrance, forgetting you’re not even wearing any bottoms. You press silently to the thick wood, maneuver your eye over the peephole to see what crazy bastard is here at this hour.

What you see has you yanking the door open, the bat clattering uselessly to the ground.

“Y-Yoongi?!”

It feels like a lifetime since you’ve last seen him. You didn’t know how much you missed that stupid, irritating, attractive face until it’s in front of you. Doubled over and breathless, hair a wind-blown mess.

“How the hell did you get my address?”

“Namjoon.” Yoongi is panting so hard he can hardly breathe. You swear he’ll keel over in the next minute. You don’t look forward to cleaning his body off your carpet. “Namjoongaveittome.” That’s all he can get out before he takes another gulp of air, face red with strain.

“Jeez, come in so you don’t bother my neighbours with your dying.” You usher him in, watch him stumble to your couch as you flick on a lamp to cast a glow over the room. He’s wearing a plain tee and sweatpants, but it’s the slides on his feet that probably explain his current discomfort. In his hands, he clutches the same bag you left on his doorstep. You try not to think about the implications of that. “Why didn’t you drive or take the bus or something?”

“Bus broke down… halfway. Had to run…”

You shove a glass of water into his hands and he gulps at it. A few droplets leak from his mouth. He wipes it away with the back of his hand. Classy.

“Thanks,” he finally says as his heart seems to stop threatening to jump out of his chest from fatigue, then speeds up again for another reason entirely.

You stare at each other wordlessly for a few beats.

“What’re you doing here, Yoongi?” It comes out in a harsher tone than you’d intended but your heart beats a drum in your chest, a rude rhythm that is mirrored in the trembling of your fingers.

“I should be saying that to you!” Yoongi reacts to the perceived animosity in your voice, lifting the bag and shaking it. “What is this supposed to be, huh?”

You force yourself to focus on fiddling with a loose thread on your shirt. Quelling the unease in your veins. “…Did you listen to it?”

“Yeah, I did.” Yoongi sets the cup on the coffee table with a smack. “First of all, you have awful taste. Secondly, this CD is completely unnecessary.”

“Oh.”

This squeak of a noise is accompanied by the sudden skydive of your heart, right towards the floor. At least that you can hide. But, against your will, disappointment and exhaustion create a cocktail of tears that prick at the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill over by the next second. No, no, no, you scold yourself but the lump swelling in your throat refuses to be swallowed down. You hate that more than anything, hate that it makes you look wimpy and weak.

When you turn your head, Yoongi catches sight of the glimmer of wet tears. “Oh, shit.” He throws the bag behind him. Scooting towards you, he puts a warm hand on your shoulder and his voice is right beside your ear and god damn it, why is he getting closer? But even you can hear the panic in his voice when he says, “no, no, oh god. I didn’t mean it like that.” He brushes your hair back to expose your downturned face. “Shit. Please don’t cry. Please.”

“I don’t want to cry either, Yoongi!” Your words sound waterlogged, but you force them out. Hope it’ll make him back off.

Instead his thumb comes beneath your eye to catch the stray tear that leaks out. He wipes it away as he murmurs your name so softly you can scarcely believe the noise came from his lips. “Look at me. Please.”

What can you do but obey? Min Yoongi will be the death of you, you swear it. That sentiment is doubled when you find his eyes and see nothing but sincerity in their darkness. He’s never studied you this way. It steals your breath, renders you in silent anticipation for what comes next.

“Look, I’m a fucking idiot.”

That actually makes you laugh, though it’s somewhat strangled as you wipe away the last of the tears. “Well, we both knew that. But why this time?”

“I… I shouldn’t have ignored you.” He drops his hand from your cheek. It sits against your bare thigh, the skin growing hot where you’re connected. “But I was scared. I felt ashamed and more than a little pissed off that you stood up to Jiwon when I couldn’t.” You say nothing. But that seems to make him even more jittery as he bursts out with, “E-Especially since you’re so god damn perfect all the time!”

“Perfect?” You repeat, bewildered as it couldn’t be further from the truth. “What the hell are you going on about?”

“You know… You just. You have your shit perfectly figured out! It just reminds me that I’m a mess.”

“No, I really don’t. Trust me.” Is that what he’s thought of you this whole time? No wonder he was so irritable. It’s almost laughable. “But Yoongi, why didn’t you confront Jiwon?”

He sighs at that, long and deep. “Just… After the whole incident, I had trouble writing. I had all this anger inside me. I didn’t know what to do with it. I wrote diss tracks but they all sounded unoriginal, whiny. Pop songs were the same. Generic and boring. I kept trying to write something better than ‘We Don’t Talk Together’. I was obsessed.” Yoongi is babbling faster, like a dam finally broken and flooding. You’re not afraid of the waters.

“It was easier for me. Easy to just blame everything on Jiwon, say it’s his fault the songs weren’t coming to me. So when he apologized…” He gives a laugh, but it’s a self-deprecating one. “I’ve spent the past weeks getting to this point, I guess. Of accepting that this shitty thing happened. I think I’m finally ready to move the fuck on. I hated that you made me confront that at the time, though.”

“You’re welcome,” you whisper, unable to resist the opportunity to poke at him. Hey, he made you cry. He deserves it.

“Uh huh.” Yoongi reaches behind his back to find the bag he threw momentarily aside. “So that’s why this CD is unnecessary. You don’t need to apologize to me.” He hands it to you. “Thank you. For helping me out. Even though I don’t deserve it.”

You set the bag on the table. “Of course, Yoongi. I wouldn’t just abandon you.”

“I know.” He actually smiles, eyes waning as your heart gives an extra loud thud.

The conversation peters out. You sit soaked in tension, unsure what the hell to do now. Especially because you’re hyperaware that his knee is right against yours and it feels like a million degrees, but neither of you are moving away. Your eyes are still locked to his, unfathomable and unyielding as you awkwardly hold wimpy grins. Even in this situation, your mind won’t stop running to inappropriate places, urging you to lean forward and kiss those pink lips.

But how does Yoongi feel?

“I, uh...” Yoongi gives a start as if he’s read your mind, but he doesn’t finish his thought.

“Anyway...” He hangs his head, cuts himself off again. “I was going to say...” Another trailing, unfinished sentence.

“You okay?” You murmur, his apparent nerves soothing your own.

“Agh, damn it. Okay. Here. Just – listen to this, okay?”

Yoongi whips out his phone, taps on the screen a few times before he places it on the table. Seconds later, music starts to play, a song you’ve never heard before. You tap your foot along to the opening synth, feeling the jazzy beat. Then a familiar voice comes on.

“Yoongi, is this you?!” You cry out, immediately reaching for the phone to turn the volume up.

Yoongi nods, saying nothing but his grin grows at how excited you are. You see the flash of gums, recognize it as the smile usually only reserved for customers. God, how your heart continues to flipflop at the sight.

You lean forward, trying to catch the fast-flowing rap. It’s poetic, weaves a story of a couple around the metaphor of a seesaw. A constant back and forth that ends in heartbreak, a dissolving that’s ultimately better for both parties in the end. When it ends, you instantly want to listen to it again – it’s that addicting.

“This is the song I wrote for the competition. I wanted to show you, since… Yeah.”

“Wow, it’s so good, Yoongi. I swear, you’re going to win.” You want to put this song in your music library and play it on repeat until you know every line. You play it again, listen silently as you really absorb the piece. “I really love the lyrics. And how it progresses. Also, how the singer leaves in the end, alone. I think too many songs out there promote the exact opposite message, even if it’s a shitty relationship, ya know?”

Yoongi nods, cheeks slightly flushed, but he looks so pleased. “Actually, this song,” his breath hitches, “I wrote it about you.”

“Me?”

At first, you’re flattered, beaming even. Then you remember the song’s contents.

“Umm... Wait...” You frown. He’s not saying... “You want to ‘put an end’ to us?” Hell, you didn’t even know there was an ‘us’ to be had!

“Ah, no!” Yoongi’s sleepy eyes blow wide, almost comically so with panic. “No. Definitely not.” His hands clench his knees tightly, as if to stop them from shaking. “I... wanna stop this ambiguous back and forth. This seesaw that we’re on. Of not being just coworkers but not really being anything more than that either.”

“...You want to be more?” Your voice comes out in a whisper as if you can scarcely believe it.

“Yes.” He exhales. “I want more. I want to be with you. Try things out with you. See where they go.” He drums his fingers against his leg. “You make me a better person. And I want to be there for you too.” His lips quirk up, not sure what expression to land on in his nervousness. “That is, uh, if you’ll have me.”

He’s adorable. So freaking cute. You never thought you would see Yoongi like this, and it’s just about the most endearing thing you’ve ever seen.

You lean forward and press your lips to his in answer.

Yoongi is soft.

You feel him hesitate for all of a second before he’s kissing you back, really kissing you back with all of his might. It’s sloppy and your rhythm is all off, but the passion that radiates from him pours the sweetest honey into your system to douse you in heat. He scarcely breaks away to breathe as he tilts his head, searching for a better angle to move against your mouth, to reaffirm this is truly happening and not just some fever dream.

His arms wind around your frame, tugging you closer as if he can’t bear to have any space between you while his tongue traces the outline of your lips. You open for him instinctively, unable to refuse any of his silent requests to taste. You’ve both been denied for too long, but time has not made you forget the curve of his mouth, the nibbles he loves to inflict. His breath tickles your skin as you finally find your pace together. A wild beat you thought you’d lost forever but now roars back to life.

That’s why you’re practically scrambling into his lap, shoving him backwards on the couch in your urgency. Having him against you, tongue flicking against yours, wipes away all thoughts save for him and how incredible this feels, how he feels. It makes you greedy for more, especially more of the muted groans of need that you coax from his throat and swallow.

It’s only when you scrunch your fingers around the back of his neck and come away slightly damp that you finally pause. “Ew, you’re all sweaty,” you tease with a cheeky grin.

He rolls his eyes. “Shut up and kiss me, damn it.” There’s the Yoongi you know so well.

“Rude.”

“You like me rude.” Just to prove his point, he shifts his hips, grinds his bulge against your needy core. Separated only by thin layers of fabric, you can feel him so well you can’t help but get wetter from the mere promise of him.

“T-That’s a damn lie.” But you’re flustered, distracted by the desire surging through your veins at the danger in his tone. It’s all too easy for you two to bring out the sass in each other, but now it keeps you on your toes, thrill in your system.

“Oh? So you don’t want me to throw you onto the bed and spank you until you come?” He accents his filthy words with hot, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your jaw, down your neck. This feels right. So fucking right, he wouldn’t stop for the world. He guides your loose top away, sucking wetly at the skin he exposes. Promising much more in the way of dark violet marks, but not giving it just yet.

“Well, I-I’m not saying that...”

That makes him laugh as he digs both hands beneath your ass and hauls you into the air. “That’s what I thought.” Your legs wrap around his hips, arms around his back. Hold him like he’s yours.

Though it’s a short few steps from the couch to bed, Yoongi keeps his mouth on your skin as if he’s mapping – every bit as desperate to know your body as you do his. He runs his tongue along the curve of your shoulder, obeying his instinctual desire to test your tolerance with the occasional bite. He grins at your yelps. You repay him by tugging at his scruff of hair, nails scraping the skin.

When his leg knocks against the bedframe, you expect him to fling you onto the sheets as promised. Instead he bends, lets you tumble down softly before joining you on the mattress with one knee. Yoongi glows in the dim lamplight, fair skin glistening with lingering sweat as he tugs off his shirt. You’ve never seen anything sexier in your life as he crawls between your legs, forcing them to spread with the hands that slide up your thighs.

“You look like you want something,” he utters in a low tone, toying with the seam of your panties. They are unfortunately plain, but he drinks them in as if they’re made of gold. Touches them with none of that delicacy though, as he hooks fingers under the band and threatens to rip.

You shift your hips, needing friction but he just teases you, lets the cotton drag across your skin only for him to pull it infuriatingly back into place. “Are you going to give it to me if I say yes?”

“Maybe, if you’re a good girl.”

Oh god. You’ve never been called that in your life but when he growls it out in that languid, devil-may-care way, you think you might just be whipped. You’d thought Yoongi devastating before, but that was nothing compared to the intimacy dripping from his fingertips as he removes them from your panties, begins the torturous ascent up your waist. Your whines of protest melt into moans when he eases your top over your head, exposing your naked body to him for the first time.

“Oh, fuck.” Yoongi goes blank. He swears every ounce of blood in him rushes to his swollen cock at the sight of you laid out like this, ready and wanting for him. The fantasies he’s conjured in his mind are nothing, crude sketches of the masterpiece that is your body, your smile, you. “Fuck, you’re so gorgeous.”

The honesty in those whispered, reverent words bolsters the flush creeping beneath your skin. It’s with a smile that you arch into his mouth when he wraps his lips around your nipple in a perfect fit. He sucks hard, noisy and lewd, forcing gasps that make you glad your apartment walls are somewhat thick. But when his tongue swivels amidst the bites he lavishes on your peak, you are reduced to whimpers in his hands. He’s an expert at combining pain with absolute pleasure until your mind is in utter shambles. Shattered even more so when his fingers find your neglected breast, his remaining free hand cupping greedy handfuls of your behind.

When you shift your knee to rub against the pronounced bulge in his sweats, he smacks his palm against your asscheek to a satisfying crack. “Patience is a virtue,” he warns, trailing his tongue to the valley between your breasts. Slathers wet heat on your skin, the curves of your chest even though you’re already burning up from his touch.

But you’re more than willing to play his game. You prove so when you grope his fabric-swaddled cock, massage until you hear the music of his hitched breaths. “I’m not trying to be virtuous.” Then you steal his smirk for your own use while you run fingers along the side of his shaft. His frenulum is sensitive as ever beneath your persistent hand; he bucks when you grind your thumb into the nerves.

“A-Ah!” You yelp when you feel the fresh sting, looking down to find that Yoongi has left his first love bite at the swell of your breast. It blooms in deep, sinful red. Damn if you don’t want him to leave five, ten, twenty more. You want that damnable mouth on you anywhere he can reach until you ache with the reminder of him.

“Thought I told you to be good.” He stares down his nose at you. The act is not nearly as intimidating as it had been in the backroom of the café, but still every bit as arousing. Especially when he pairs it with a sly finger trailing down your slit, the sensation frustratingly dulled by your soaked underwear.

It’s a miracle you can summon the strength to talk back. “Oops. My bad,” you reply in a voice that tells him you’re not sorry in the slightest. Goading Yoongi is a form of art that you have perfected.

Amused and more than a little turned on by your disobedience, he rocks back onto his knees. “On your stomach. Now.”

Oh, yes please. You obey without hesitation, pressing your chest to the warm sheets. You shiver when you feel his hands fit along your waist, as if testing his grip for later use. How hard would he squeeze as he fucks you? As he feeds you every hot inch of his erection, the skin taut and hard for want of your cunt? You tense your thighs in longing, not wanting to wait a second longer to feel him inside you.

But you don’t have a choice.

You lunge forward when the first smack lands on your ass. You cry out, face half-buried in the pillow as pleasure radiates from your burning cheek. Yet you’re still raising your hips for more. You love the pain, addicted to the visceral reaction it beckons from your body.

But your squeal gives Yoongi pause. “Is that too hard?” He asks, breath brushing across your skin.

You throw a coy glance backwards. “Never.”

Your answer is accepted with a second slap, a punishment that makes your body shudder further into your mattress. “My little slut,” Yoongi snarls, enjoying the way the possessive words feel on his tongue. “Bet you’re ruining those panties of yours.”

Smack. Fuck, you swear he’s leaving imprints of his palm behind. You wish you could see.

“Totally soaked.” You rock onto your elbows, push your sore ass into his palm. Hope you can convince him to lose control and just fill you up. “So ready for your cock, Yoongi...”

You don’t see how he squeezes his eyes together, biting back the surge of hormones; they bid him to throw all restraint away to sink into your heat. “Not just yet.” Your undies are tugged down, rendered useless and tossed somewhere onto the floor. Chills run through your spine as you’re bared for the second time tonight. He forces your hips up and before you can even breathe, licks a long stripe across your cunt.

“Oh, fuck.”

You cannot stand Min Yoongi and that devil’s tongue he curls around your clit. He drags the tip across your sensitive bead, understanding where you’re too sensitive and then deliberately stimulating that very spot to make your knees buck. Pleasure floods your body, makes your every limb white hot and weak, a mess for one man. You knew he was dangerous from the very start, but that never could have stopped you. Your body reflects just how hopelessly you’ve fallen, pushed to the brink of climax faster than you’ve ever been before.

“So fucking sweet.” His fingers dig dimples into your ass, spreading you wide so he can have his fill. His tongue glides along your curves, taking his time instead of being so focused on chasing climax as he had that first time. Now he’s hungry for knowledge, for intimacy he can only find with you as his landscape. And if he makes you cum a thousand times in the process of that quest, well. You’ll survive somehow.

When his tongue slips into your heat, you almost lose it. He thrusts it like he fucks: ruthlessly, flawlessly. As if you’re the only thing that matters right now, and his only desire in the world is to have you quivering on his lips. A wish he’s getting twofold.

“Close, so close, Yoongi, ah—”

“Yeah, I can feel it.” He sounds utterly entranced, the drawled words thick with longing. “Want you to cum around my tongue. Can you do that for me?” He poses the question as if you have a choice. As if you can do anything against the onslaught of bliss tangling themselves in your veins, demanding that you release.

All because of that accursed mouth that has you at its mercy, whether between the sheets or out. Too compelling for your weary nerves to resist when his hand whips across your skin and without warning, you’re cumming. Tears prick, rolling down your face as he spanks you again, this time even harder, and your climax becomes unbearable in bliss. You were not prepared for the tsunami it is, crashing onto you, sweeping you away.

“Yoongi!” The name is muffled by the pillow you stuff your face in, muscles screaming at you to stop tensing but you can’t, you goddamn can’t. Crest after crest of sensation radiate through you in time with the throbs of your sodden walls. You swear he grins against your pussy as you rock your hips like you’re in heat. Your skin is so sensitive it almost hurts but you couldn’t care less.

“Fuck me, Yoongi, please, god, I need your cock in me right fucking now.” Your voice is desperate and begging and any other time, you would be mortified but all you can think of now is how you need to be filled. To have every crevice of your throbbing pussy stuffed with Yoongi’s cock so he understands just what he’s done to you. Wrecked you, ruined you for anyone else.

“Oh fuck.” He was not expecting you to turn the tables but here you are, fucked out and still so needy for more. His sweatpants join your panties, cock springing free, the deep-red tip leaking from all it’s been denied. God, how he wants to fuck that pretty whine in your voice into moans.

“All of you, Yoongi. Wanna feel the stretch.” He’s taking too long; you’ve always been impatient.

Yoongi will never forget the sight of you spreading your own cheeks to show him, seduce him with how your cunt drips from anticipation. But it’s the look in your eyes, the affection mingled with the heat that has him plunging half of his cock into you in one stroke.

“So tight for me, h-huh? What a good girl,” Yoongi growls, trying his best not to cum instantly from the way you take him. Just swallow him with such ease, yet still squeeze him like a vice. He’s missed this pussy so much, hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it since that night. He’s finished himself countless nights to the memory but now you’re really here; now you cry for him in that tremulous tone that drives him wild.

One of Yoongi’s hands goes as promised on your waist, but the other weaves into your hair to grip at the roots. He doesn’t tug yet, testing your limits, careful to respect them. He’s rewarded with a moan as he bottoms out at the same time he gives his first light tug. Now every thick inch of cock is finally swathed in you, and you are filled to the brim, just like you craved.

“This okay?” He asks, massaging the crook of your perspiration-dotted back with his thumb.

“Mhm...” You slur it like you’re drunk but it’s just the moment, the pleasure forcing you into submission. You love the juxtaposition only Yoongi brings out for you, how he instinctually knows exactly what you seek.

“More?”

You rut into him, feel that friction kindle something indescribable, deeply carnal in your core. “Always.”

It is here that Yoongi realizes how gone he is for you.

You’re incredible. Fucking incredible. He tries to tell you this with every pump he sends into you. So damn hungry but still careful not to pull too hard on your locks even though he thinks you might like that, minx that you are. The gasps just continue to fall from his mouth as he just feels himself drown in you. You fit around him like you were made to take his cock and then some. He wants to give you everything. But first he’ll start with pleasure. Pleasure so intense you’ll forget even your own name.

You’re closer to that goal than he knows. You’re falling into the rough staccato rhythm he sets, bodies slamming together again and again until your mouth feels dry for all the moans you can’t staunch. It sends you soaring: the ache of his fist in your hair, the burn of the stretch that you know will stay with you for hours after. It’s all in service of the inevitable crash that will ruin you.

Yoongi’s thighs have started to burn with strain but he doesn’t dare stop, doesn’t think he could. Not when you’re both teetering on the cusp; ready to fall, not apart, but finally together.

“Y-Yoongi...!” On one particularly hard thrust, you rear up, back pressed firmly against his sweaty chest. He lets go of your hair to curl his arms around you, clutching you as he thrusts upwards to hit your core. You focus on the sole task of breathing. But you fail even that when his fingers find your clit, rough and imprecise in his animalistic movements. It’s still enough.

This is how you cum – speared and full and deliriously sated.

He can’t hold out any longer when you find your peak. His teeth scrape your shoulder, but you can only register pleasure as he grinds out his own orgasm against your ass. You feel him spill deeply inside; it feeds some innate need you didn’t even know you had. Reaching behind, you hold him close as he does you, heartbeats pulsing to the same beat as you let the noises speak for you.

When the high relents, you collapse onto your palms, practically faceplant into your pillow as the aftershocks shudder their way through you. It’s a good few moments before you can roll onto your side, to face Yoongi who has done the same on your right. You feel like a mess, but he looks at you as if he’s never seen anything more stunning in his life.

“I... Wow.”

“Yeah...”

For a minute, all you can do is grin at each other, silly smiles stretched wide across your kiss-bitten lips.

Eventually, Yoongi flips onto his back, chest still heaving. “That was actually meant to be gentler,” he mumbles, staring pointedly at the ceiling. “Since our first time was me getting carried away. And the second.”

“Looks like you just can’t help yourself around me, huh?” You tease, hoping you’ll make him blush, or hit you back with something equally sarcastic.

“Yeah. I really can’t.” He says it so honestly, you melt a little into the sheets.

You shuffle closer to him; he automatically raises his arm to let you in. “Stay over tonight, okay?” You say, kissing his bare chest as you cuddle in. Relish the fact you can just reach out and he’s there. Solid, warm, there. “Not like you have work tomorrow, right?”

“I’ll stay as long as you want.”

He kicks the light covers up with a foot, pulls it over your body so you don’t feel the chill even though his body keeps you running hot. You hum as he runs his fingers down your back, rubbing at that sore spot just right. You fall into cozy silence, tracing the contours of his damp torso, running over the curves you couldn’t before.

“On Monday, I’m going to give Mina my two weeks notice.”

Whoa.

You shove up from Yoongi. Turning with utter surprise on your face, you cry, “What?” You unintentionally crush blankets in your fists. “Why?” When you’ve finally worked things out between you?

“As much as I want to stay, I’m… I’m going to try to produce full time.” His eyebrows furrow together. He sucks in a breath. “Being at the café took up all my spare time and while it was a good distraction after the whole thing, I... I don’t need it anymore. I’m going to chase after what I really want to do.” The relief that soaks his voice tells you he’s finally figured it out. “And I’m going to do it on my own. Without Jiwon. Without his help.”

“Oh, Yoongi...” Your heart floods with nervous excitement. You are not really a fan of change, but this is different. This is a step in the direction he was always too afraid to take. You flop back beside him, let him eagerly draw you back into his arms. “I’ll support you as much as I can. I know you can do it, babe.”

“Babe?” He raises his eyebrows.

“Don’t like it?”

“Mmn. Like it... more than I thought I would.” His voice is practically a mumble by the end as he hides embarrassment with a nuzzle into your head.

You’re grinning as the most welcome thought strikes. “Hey, maybe whoever replaces you will finally be on time!”

Yoongi smirks. “Unfortunately, your boyfriend may sometimes still be a little late.”

You tap his cute nose, his squishy cheeks. “Oh, is that what you are now?”

“Yup.” He proceeds to bury his face into your hair, pressing kisses and inhaling the scent he doesn’t think he’ll ever get his fill of. “You’re stuck with me.”

You chuckle as you snuggle further into his warm embrace. it just feels right to be here somehow. Ironic, that ‘here’ is pressed up against the man who can get under your skin like no other. Maybe you’re a masochist, but you can’t think of anywhere else you’d rather be.

Lying here, listening to him slip into slumber, the apprehensive energy in you just melts away despite the feeling that you’re about to embark on a journey that you’re sure will be anything but easy. But as long as you’re with him... You smile. Then you let the anxious thoughts go, finally surrendering to the sleep that his steady rise-and-fall brings.

Turns out, Min Yoongi isn’t the absolute worst after all.

a/n: yeah, i know, who still makes CDs in 2019? :p but sending over a Spotify playlist isn’t nearly as romantic. hehe. thank you for sticking with me until the end of my first series. i learnt so much through writing it and had a ton of fun! please let me know what you think of the ending, yeah? ;) i hope you all enjoyed TES ♡

huge, enourmous thank you to my betas: @hoseoksdior, @sweetlyseokjin, @jiminspjm, @mypurplelamp, @bigtiddiejoon! 💖 this fic would not have come through without their efforts!!

special shoutout to MISS ARI @flowerymoonlight who hyped me TF up & had to survive the snippets i sent her at 2 in the morning. ily babe, you have a special place in my heart ALWAYS.

p.s. you can find more minis of this couple on my masterlist!

[cordytriestowrite]

Fight, Fight, Fight

Bucky x Reader

One Shot

College AU

Summary: I see your "there was only one bed" and raise you "there was only one shower" with a sprinkle of "enemies to...still enemies but also lovers"

Natasha Romanov slid Sam Wilson a glass of vodka. A literal glass of vodka. Filled almost to the brim with the strong, clear alcohol a few drops sailed over the rim and left a wet trail as the glass came to a stop. 

"Drink."

Who was he to argue with a Russian about drinking? He took a large swallow, letting it burn down his throat and wash over the knot of nerves in his stomach. 

"You have to say something, Sam. It's your house."

He nodded. Natasha was right. When he put up the flyers in the student union offering the spare bedrooms in the house he inherited from his grandfather he thought it'd be a win-win. He was in his senior year, about to graduate and in need of some cash flow: enter roommates. He thought it would be like living in the freshman dorms all over again, bonding with people like Steve and building lifelong friendships. But no, while the roommates individually were just fine, it was when they were together that brought Sam to sit at his dining room table practically chugging eight ounces of cheap vodka. 

Natasha was nice enough to support him, maybe nice isn't the word, annoyed enough to help him. They had only just started dating after being introduced at Steve's birthday party two months ago, but she had been witness to too many squabbles, slammed doors, and sabotage. 

"There's gonna be a civil war in this house in less than," Sam glanced at his phone, "ten minutes."

"That's why you drink.

-

Your books were heavy and kept slipping from your arms. You adjusted them as you walked but that adjustment would only work for a few minutes before you had to perform another juggling act. The house was only two blocks from campus, the air was cool and breezy, you were pretty sure you aced your civ test, but you were far from content, after all finals were only a month away.

Bucky was walking just in front of you, headphones blaring music that even you could hear. He held a single, slim textbook and a pencil in on hand and his phone in the other. That's why you were mad. Bucky insisted on walking home together after class, but you never actually walked home together. You worked hard in class while he coasted on through. And yet you knew you would both pass.

When you reached out to Sam about the open room in his house you were hopeful, optimistic even, about a new living situation that didn't involve sleeping two feet from someone else in a dorm room that was always too cold. Had you known Bucky Fuckin Barnes had also called up Sam you would have stayed huddled under your blankets with earplugs while your roommate had sex in the bed two feet away from you, loudly. Anything was better than being stuck with the guy in and out of classes, but it was too late.

You hit an uneven patch of concrete, stumbling and losing your hold on your textbooks. You growled in frustration as they tumbled to the ground, bending down to collect them. Every week, every fucking week, you had to carry four textbooks to and from class. Every week Bucky saw you carry four textbooks while he carried practically nothing. He never offered to help, not once.

"Hey asshole." You called, knowing Bucky wouldn't hear you over his music, but it felt good to yell.

"You could fucking stop and help me for once."

Bucky stopped and turned, he pulled an ear bud out of his ear and regarded you with a fake smile. He didn't move, didn't even raise his voice to match yours.

"Buy a backpack."

-

Sam's head shot up from the table top at the sound of the front door slamming open and hitting the wall. The house shook, or maybe that was just him. Natasha swiftly stomped toward the comotion, coming back in less than a minute with strong hands gripped onto the shoulder of both you and Bucky, who were still screaming.

"Backpacks were literally made to hold books-"

"Or you could just take one or two-"

"Why would I help yo-"

"QUIET!"

Natasha's sharp tone cut through the animosity between you as she pushed you into a chair opposite Sam. She walked Bucky to the chair at the far end and stood behind him, arms crossed and mouth tense.

"Sam." She prompted.

Sam sighed, wishing he was still face down on the table in blissful, drunk, silence. He took a deep breath, sparing a glance at his girlfriend before opening his mouth. He should have prepared something, but the booze had loosened his lips and now he was just coming out with it.

"I can't have it anymore. The fighting, the yelling...I'm done. I like you both and I'm sorry to do this but-"

"Sam, please don't say what I think you're going to say." You started.

"Dude, come on we're just-" Bucky spoke over you.

"You don't speak for me, Bucky."

"I'm just trying to apologize to Sam for your shitty behavior. Since you don't seem to want to do it."

"Bullshit, Barnes!"

Sam slammed his palms against the table top. He stood suddenly, a wave of dizziness sending the room into a tailspin. He closed his eyes, grit his teeth, and finally just said it.

"I want you out."

-

It was mid semester. Dorms were full and open rooms were few and far between. Sam agreed to give you both a week. It wasn't enough time, but between classes and homework at least you barely saw Bucky.

Wanda had found the apartment. Said it was good practice for when she got her real estate license. You couldn't pass up her help so you agreed to let her do some of the heavy lifting. 

The place she found for you was on the other side of town. One bedroom, no washer or dryer, and on the fourth floor. The building was old too. Faded wallpaper and flickering lights lead you down the hallway towards the unit. The realtor had given you a code to the lockbox hanging from the doorknob, but the box was already hanging open. You were about to text Wanda when the door opened.

"Bucky?"

-

"Wait, you two are moving out...together?"

Sam shook his head in disbelief, hoping he just heard them wrong. 

"Unfortunately." You grumbled, crossing your arms and glaring at Bucky.

Bucky glared right back, eyes hard and hands busy aggressively making a sandwich. He was getting mustard on the countertop, like usual. 

"Okay, one of you can stay here and the other can take the apartment?"

Bucky, finished with his sandwich but leaving the counter dirty, joined you at the table and with his mouthful answered simply.

"Can't."

"Can't?" Sam echoed.

"I paid the first and last month's rent. I'm not trusting her to pay that back to me."

You nodded, "And it's my name on the application. I'm not risking him tanking my credit score when he doesn't pay rent."

You snatched the remaining half of Bucky's meal right out of his hands, taking a large bite, savoring Bucky's protest more than the actual food.

"God, who destroys a sandwich with this much mustard?"

"It wasnt your fucking sandwich! "

Sam could only watch as the conversation digressed into yet another fight. How you two were going to share a one bedroom was beyond him, but at least he would get some peace and quiet.

-

You woke up, not suddenly, but gradually with enough time to know it was still dark before your eyes even opened. You also knew you were cold and that your body was huddled too close to the edge of the mattress. Behind you there was a loud, sudden snort that made you finally open your eyes. 

You were in fact at the edge of the mattress, your blankets nowhere on your person, and your phone screen showed the time to be 4:03 am. You turned, squinting against the fluorescent lights shining through the cracks in the blinds. Bucky was on his back, loud snores erupting from his open mouth, blankets bunched up around his body keeping him warm. He looked deep in sleep and that just wouldn't do.

With both hands gripped tightly on the comforter you yanked with all your might. You pulled and tugged until Bucky was completely bare, his exposed skin erupting in goosebumps. The snoring stopped, Bucky turned on his side, eyes still closed, to grope blindly for his missing warmth. You smiled ruefully and turned your back to him, enjoying the thrill of victory as you shut your eyes.

The mattress squeaked and rocked as Bucky flopped around like a fish out of water and suddenly your victory was stolen by a man who wasn't even conscious.

With a deep groan of resignation you turned over and dropped the comforter over Bucky's form, tucking the corner under his shoulder to trap in heat. Bucky exhaled deeply and settled into the covers. You turned your back to him again. Making sure the blankets were tucked under you as well.

-

Natasha didn't think Sam should be worrying about his old roommates as much as he was. But here they were out to dinner with Steve and Sam had barely said two words in as many minutes. Steve threw her a look, one that asked her to explain, but she only rolled her eyes and elbowed her boyfriend.

"Hm?

"I was asking how class was going, Sam." Steve gently reminded him. "But something tells me you got something other than finals on your mind."

Sam heaved a huge sigh.

"I can't stop thinking about them."

-

You vaguely remembered your alarm going off, but sleep dragged you back under as soon as you made the offensive noise stop. Next time you woke up there was much more appeal. The sun was soft, its rays warming your face. Your body was cocooned in a pleasant mix of skin and sheets. You hummed, turning into the warmth, breathing in the familiar scent of your bedmate. You couldn't even drum up irritation at the smell of his 3-n-1 shampoo. 

Responsibility tickled your brain, urging you to untangle from Bucky and get ready for class. You did just that, albeit reluctantly, sitting up and grabbing your phone.

You overslept. Your final was in thirty minutes.

"Shit!" You hissed, jumping out of bed.

"Whatisit?" Bucky grumbled, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"We missed our alarm. Civ final's in thirty minutes." 

You pulled off your pajama bottoms, stepping out of the pool they made around your ankles. Bucky was up and out of bed by the time you pulled off your shirt. 

"Fuck!"

On long legs he sprinted into the bathroom, but you were there to catch the door before he slammed it shut.

"What are you doing?"

You shoved your way through, pulling back the shower curtain and turning the knob. The room filled with the hiss of water and arguing. 

"I've got to take a shower."

"Well so do I?"

"Does it look like I give a fuck?"

It was a race to get naked, to find yourself under the spray before the water could turn cold. You stepped into the tub, Bucky following suit. He closed the curtain, mouth still set in a hard frown.

"This is your fault."

You laughed, leaning your head back to wet your hair. 

"Oh, is it? Maybe if I wasn't up half the night because of your snoring I wouldn't have missed my alarm!"

You switched places with Bucky once you were doused, letting him under the spray. He grabbed his 3-n-1 shampoo bottle and squeezed too much into his hand.

"I only snore because you insisted on taking your mattress."

"My mattress is the most expensive thing in this apartment."

"So you're just bad at spending money then?"

You glared at each other, silent as your fingers worked to clean your hair. Bucky did the same. The staring match raged on for a few breathless moments, until for the first time all morning Bucky's gaze drifted away from your face and down your naked body.

"Pervert!"

-

"I don't know why you're worrying." Steve said, watching his best friend flitter around the kitchen.

"I just want to know how they're doing." He explained, pulling the chicken from the oven.

"You know, Nat's right. This is crazy. Why am I supporting this?"

Sam had to agree. He felt crazy thinking about his old roommates so much. It's been six months. If one of them had killed the other he needed to know.

"I'm just checking in on my friends, Steve."

-

Bucky opened the door to Sam's place like he still lived there. You pulled on your joined hands, yanking him back a step to chide him.

"We're guests stupid. Knock."

"Knock, knock." Bucky called sarcastically, shooting you a smug look when Sam shouted "Come in!".

"You're rude." You grumbled.

"And you're a know-it-all." Bucky shot back without looking at you.

"I'm not-"

"Hey!" Sam greeted, voice a bit too loud, smile a bit too wide. His arms were open as if he was going to go for a hug but they hung suspended as his eyes found your joined hands.

"What's uhhhh, what's this?"

You and Bucky looked down at your interlaced fingers, then at each other, then back to Sam.

"We're together."

Sam's arms fall heavily to his sides, then up to run over his head as his chest swells.

"WHAT? How? What?!"

-

You and Bucky had made your way home to your one bedroom apartment, changing into your pajamas and you continued your squabble from the walk home.

"They poop in a box. It's disgusting!"

Bucky scoffed, leaving the room briefly and coming back with a glass of water that he sat down on your bedside table.

"We shit in a box too if you think about it. Just admit you aren't a cat person so we can break up and I can take the cat."

He crawled into bed, lifting up the blanket so you could join him. You stood there for a moment before relenting and crawling in next to him, tucking your head under his chin and throwing your leg over his hips.

"Whatever, I'm tired. We'll continue this in the shower tomorrow."

"This isn't over." Bucky warned before planting a kiss to your forehead. "Love you."

"Love you too, but we're not taking Steve's cat."

Bucky groaned, rolling on top of you. 

"Cats are awesome, if you got your head out of your ass-"

"If you thought for more than two seconds about the responsibility-"

The bickering continued as you shed each other's clothes, putting a pause on fighting in favor of moving together. It's how most of your arguments ended and while most people, especially Sam, couldn't wrap their heads around that it was what worked for you and Bucky. So did the one bedroom apartment, the shower that ran out of hot water too fast, and the cat Bucky was going to sneak in before spring semester. It all somehow made sense. 

Except the fucking cat, come on Bucky!

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