#also me: FOUR AND A HALF HOURS LATER | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

highvern · 2 months ago

Text

endpoint

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x f!reader

Genre: fluff, smut, angst, FWB to idiots to lovers

warnings: cumshot/facial, unprotected sex, multiple sex scenes, oral sex (m & f receiving), rough sex, breath play (choking), mentions of exhibitionism, face fucking, virgin wonwoo mentions, idiots in love, edging (emotionally), impact play, sir kink (brief), alcohol consumption

Length: ~19.5k

Note: thank you to @gyuswhore my love, my life, for suffering through this with me. this fic is set in the same universe as her gyu fic for this collab so check it out (threat). also thank u @haologram and everyone else who beta'd this for me bc im sensitive. follow @camandemstudios for more fics!!! i will come back later and tag the people who commented on the teaser but rn im getting day drunk hehehe

summary: Senior year of college is meant to be full of celebration and smooth sailing. Years of work culminating in the final semesters that will send you off into the real world where clubs, sports, and weekends packed with hungover volunteering to pad your resume no longer mattered. It’d be a piece of cake if it wasn’t for your fuck buddy turned coworker having the same plan. But only one of you can get the department’s most coveted recommendation that all but guarantees your acceptance. Tension rises and the nearly four year thing you’ve had with Wonwoo approaches its endpoint.

collab m.list || m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

“What’s the difference between a proton and an electron again?”

“Shoot me in the fucking head,” Wonwoo whispers harshly.

He’s a seat over, a laptop covered in gaming stickers and a coffee cup containing a lethal amount of caffeine occupying the space atop the narrow lecture desk. It’s a feign to productivity. His screen is split between thesis notes and a countdown to a new video game release that unfortunately hits 0 in the middle of lecture.

Dr. Wagner’s intro to chemistry course isn’t difficult – freshman aside – which is why you and Wonwoo agreed to be her teaching assistants. Easy money and a way to get in her good graces come grad school application season. You’ve TA’ed the same course since sophomore year for different professors but it’s all the same; the metaphorical killing field before hopeful freshmen become cannon fodder in the real trial of will: O Chem.

��Me first,” you whisper back.

Wonwoo slumps in his chair, opening the shared drive keeping track of problem areas to touch on in lab hours, and typing “check for basic brain activity” under the class To-Do list.

Fair enough. If they can’t understand the basics this far into the semester then you two are in for a world of hurt for the next practical. You're in for a world of hurt come next study hall when half of them will complain about failing their quiz this morning despite having the answers spoon fed straight from the notes.

[09:48] You: be nice

[09:48] wonwoo: if they were smarter, id be nicer

[09:48] You: maybe they’re scared stupid

It wouldn’t be too far off. One time a freshman burst into tears while asking Wonwoo to check their practice work during lab hours. Wonwoo swears he didn’t say anything and the kid looked on the verge of a mental breakdown if the wind blew the wrong way.

[09:48] wonwoo: from what?

[09:48] You: the fact ur trying to kill them with your mind

[09:49 ]wonwoo : i wouldn’t kill them

[09:49] wonwoo: just maim or seriously injure so they dont come to class and say dumb shit

Dr. Wagner fields more questions in front of the powerpoint. More ‘dumb shit’ Wonwoo rolls his eyes at with such obvious disgust even you feel chastised. Luckily, no one can see his face from the front row besides you.

[09:49] You: you wonder why they like me more

[09:50] wonwoo: i know why they like you more

[09:50] You: oh?

Stifling an eye roll of your own you throw a glance his way as the next message comes through,

[09:50] wonwoo: nice ass

“Alright, Y/N and Wonwoo will be passing out the study guide for the next exam. We still have a few weeks so don’t worry about the back half but try and review the modules we’ve done so far and bring questions for them during study hours,” Dr. Wagner prattles off.

The gigantic stack of printouts is split in half for you and Wonwoo to disperse around the massive lecture hall. Over one hundred students sit in this lecture; the unfortunate ones who were forced to take a 9 AM course three days a week. Half look like their brain is melting out of their ears, other’s clearly haven’t paid attention at all, and a few are sound asleep. It’s Friday after all. They probably didn’t get back from their Thirsty Thursday night out until a few hours ago.

You wouldn’t even be here if Wonwoo wasn’t a built in insurance policy.

Dr. Wagner collects her things and heads towards the front exit with a cheery, “Have a good weekend!”

“There's a party at Sigma tonight,” Wonwoo shares as you both pack your own bags. The next class is already shuffling through the doors to claim their seats.

“I have work until eleven.”

“After?”

Shouldering your bag, you head towards the door where the next class is already trickling in to find their seats. “Don’t you have a tournament tomorrow?”

“I only have to be at the party for like an hour. I can come and walk you home.”

“Fine,” you nod. “But bring your laptop. I think Chan fucked up the last set of results and we need to fix them.”

It’s not unusual for Wonwoo to spend his Friday nights with you; or another night for that matter. He lives in a dingy frat house on the edge of campus with twenty other guys. It’s an act of mercy. A long standing tradition from the week before freshman year when you two were the only chemistry majors in your orientation group and that turned into a clumsy hook up at an upperclassman’s party. You didn’t know he’d be a virgin and he didn’t know your high school boyfriend dumped you less than twenty four hours before you left for college (but not before you lost your own virginity in the backseat of his car).

It’d been…not good.

Wonwoo was awkward and you were unsure. But he was sweet under the bravado; walked you home that night, pretended he wasn’t interested in the fact your roommate never moved in, leaving the suite empty. But he wasn’t a good enough actor to feign nonchalance when you invited him upstairs. Turns out sex was a lot better the second time around, in a bed that didn’t belong to an unknown upperclassman who could’ve burst in any minute.

Wonwoo isn’t your boyfriend. You’re too busy piecing together the ten year plan concocted since junior year of highschool to even think about such frilly ideas. There’s barely enough time as it is; you’ve got work, a full class schedule, TAing, and all the random clubs you’ve wiggled your way into to pad your resume.

And he’s busy too. Navigating a sports scholarship and one of the hardest majors left barely enough time for him to wipe his own ass, let alone date. Then came research hours and TAing and the fact volleyball, apparently, wasn’t just a one semester sport, there were scrimmages, workouts, and tournaments out of season.

It’s been over three years of your arrangement which works best because you don’t have to spend precious brain power deciphering if some random guy you went out with once is playing hard to get or just straight up not interested. You have Wonwoo. He’s simple.

So what you have now, friends. Who hook up. And work together. Who also happens to be applying for the same PhD program for next year. Not together but at the same time.

The application website stares back from your laptop with horror.

It’s still too early to submit any materials but it’s been highlighted in bold red in your calendar since two years ago. Everything is ready to go the second it opens—except Dr. Wagner’s recommendation. It’s the sole reason you (and Wonwoo) agreed to be her TAs this semester; she’s one of the program’s most notorious alum, her words as good as gold in securing a spot.

Someone hacks a cough and shatters the eerie silence of the library. The backtrack of sparse typing and the custodian shuffling around to have been the only company throughout your shift. No one would choose to rot at any of the weathered study tables late on a Friday night so early in the semester.

With the abundance of free time, you fixed Chan’s mistakes in his set of trials easily, no thanks to Wonwoo who still hasn’t shown up. It’s good though. Your stoichiometry homework is submitted three days before the deadline and the mountain of emails clogging your inbox from hopeless undergrads is in the single digits. Half the labs from last week are graded for Dr. Wagner’s approval, the other half can wait until Sunday night. A long weekend of sleep awaits once the clock hits eleven and you’re free to run home.

Wonwoo stumbless in five minutes before the clock runs out. His duffle for tomorrow is slung over his shoulder and he’s already dressed for bed, rumpled sweats and a hat he definitely wore to the party with high hopes to cut out early.

“You’re late,” you acknowledge, cramming your belongings back into your bag. He’s close enough to get a whiff of. “And you’re drunk.”

“I am not drunk,” he argues.

The lazy smile tugging at the corner of his lips says otherwise but it isn’t an argument worth having. All you want to do is get home and pass out.

He shoulders you bag, presenting his hand when you insist you can carry it on your own. The dry warm of his palm against your cold is pleasant enough you don’t argue as you tug him towards the automatic doors.

“Have a goodnight, Mr. Lee,” you call towards the security desk.

The guard, old enough to be your grandfather, calls back, “You too, sweetheart.”

Out in the balmy night, you tug Wonwoo down the street in the direction of your apartment. Two blocks and then a right turn leaving you outside the dowdy building with hallways that constantly reek of weed and new paint smell.

A pack of freshmen girls heading somewhere, marked by their matching uniform of jeans and black tops of various coverage, crowd the sidewalk straight ahead. Someone is crying, one is on the phone, and a few others stand dumbly waiting for their next movie like zombies — all incredibly wasted. You barrel through them without acknowledgement. A few drunken bitter ‘bitch’s hit your back but you ignore them to focus on the man struggling to push through the crowd without accidentally shoulder checking any of them.

On the other side, you ask, “Have fun at the party?”

“Some pledge puked on Jihoon’s stuff,” he huffs, nose scrunching.

“May he rest in peace.”

Wonwoo sways from side to side from the weight of your bag but also whatever radioactive mix was served at the party. The stairs provide an extra challenge since the elevator has been broken for weeks but thankfully it’s a short trip to the second floor.

He presents your belongings with routine ease once the front door of your apartment looms ahead. Music from the floor above shakes the walls; hopefully you can make up for the lack of sleep tomorrow morning.

There isn’t much space inside the four walls you call home – the ‘kitchen’ which is a single counter with a stove and fridge you’re barely around to use, fifteen feet away your bed in the corner, bordered by your desk at the foot cramped with a spray of errant papers and books you’ve been too busy to deal with. The monitor doubles as a TV and finally a tiny loveseat with a broken leg replaced by a stack of hard covers completes the room.

You beeline for the bathroom to wash away the filth of a long day and Wonwoo, keeping on trend, follows into the cramped space.

“Can I help you?” you ask, shirt tossed into the bin in the corner.

Wonwoo’s shirt goes the same and then his pants after a brief struggle. “You know I sleep better when I shower.”

True.

“And I doubt you're gonna let me in your bed if I’m dirty.”

Even truer.

The water is still cold when you step in but the man glued to your back fights the worst of the chill away. Goosebumps prickle along your skin but have nothing to do with the vent that points directly into the stall (whoever designed the apartments must have had a sick sense of humor) and everything to do with Wonwoo’s mouth tracing the curve of your shoulder.

Forcing the heat blooming between your legs down to a simmer, you focus on washing up and getting into bed before it rolls into a boil and you do something stupid that’ll only leave you and Wonwoo struggling for balance.

Shower sex is a dangerous sport. Shower sex with Wonwoo has left you both with bruises. Drunken shower sex with Wonwoo will get you both killed.

Soft hums tickle your neck as you clean up. There isn’t enough room for two people to stand in the spray at once so you take turns hogging the steamy water and braving the frigid cold until the last bits of soap swirl the drain.

Even when drying off you stay in each other’s orbit until the need for clothes and sleep drive you both out of the bathroom and back into the equally cramped space of your room.

It’s not until you’re laying on the mattress, darkness snug on all sides, that you feel Wonwoo roll atop you with purpose.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Wonwoo hums into your stomach, fingers crawling up your bare legs.

“That,” you inhale at the nip of his teeth on the curve of your thigh, “doesn’t feel like nothing to me.”

Wonwoo doesn’t answer but gives you plenty of time to brush him off while bruising your skin. You don’t. Instead you sink deeper into the blankets and let him push your shirt up until you're bare once more.

The fuzziness of alcohol lingers in his veins – just enough that he smiles into the strip of skin above your panties as you sigh and arch under the delicious weight of wandering hands and mouth at your nipple.

“Wonwoo,” you sigh and he’s up and kissing you with eager clumsiness.

A familiar prod at your core through his boxers crashes bubbles through your veins. You felt it in the bathroom but now is when you finally get to indulge with subtle grinds Wonwoo meets in his own search for friction.

“Don’t you need to be up—ugh—early tomorrow?”

He kisses you slowly, tongue dragging along your bottom lip until your mouth opens under his. It burns you from the inside out. Mindlessly you shift your legs to frame his hips better but Wonwoo kisses deeper and all you can think about is giving in to whatever scheme he’s working up to have you both naked and panting.

He leans back a fraction to speak, giving in when you chase his lips before ducking to nip at your ear and mumbling a response. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I will worry about it when you snooze twenty alarms and your team hunts me down because I smothered their star player with a pillow,” you snort but heat under a squeeze of his fingers at your sides.

“Sleep when I’m done with this.”

“And what is ‘this’ exactly?”

A harsh suck at your jaw has your stomach tight. heavy and thick until need drips down your spine to coil in your gut and the emptiness between your thighs becomes unignorable. He hides pleased groans in the curve of your neck until you force a hand under the band of his underwear. Eyes opening, you watch the muscles of his back tense and flex as he rocks against you, fucking your fist greedily.

It doesn’t last long. Wonwoo gets antsy under the taunting pressure of your thumb and descends back down your body with burning lips. “Take your shirt off.”

“It’s cold,” you complain but do as he asks.

He traces your figure clad in nothing but your glasses and a soiled pair of panties; damp at the crotch from his attention and Wonwoo slips a finger under the hem to tease you that inch closure to depravity.

Wonwoo laves against the hickey on the inside of your thigh from a week ago, it’s yellowed and perfectly shaped like his mouth. It’s tender under his attention, even the gentle tracing on his nose forcing you to wince in discomfort.

He coos, kissing it before skating back to the hem of your panties, lips vibrating against your skin. “Sorry I didn’t come earlier.”

Why he brings it up now is a mystery. Or the fact he brings it up at all. Life happens. You’ve blown him off more than once for a late night in the library; no hard feelings.

“It’s fine,” you sigh as he tugs the last scrap of fabric off your body and pushes your knees up to display you like a meal.

Spreading you apart, he lands a wet kiss at your entrance before teasing with the heat of his tongue.

In a beg for sanity you twist a tight grip in his hair; a tangled mess from his drunk endeavors. Wonwoo pushes harder, drowns in your taste with enthusiasm as you moan and sigh.

“F-fuck.”

He won’t ask if it’s good. He knows it is. Nearly four years of hook ups attunes him to your pleasure, a well rehearsed routine that has you both ache in the best way.

You lose yourself in shaking breaths, feet planted to drive up into his mouth for more. He sucks your clit and nearly gets his head crushed by your thighs. It doesn’t take much and he knows it.

You chant ‘gonna cum’ in choked groans that almost die at the edge of your teeth but Wonwoo hears and takes it as permission to pull out the stops, hand at your thing with a harsh grip and fingers sinking home.

He’s memorized all the signs of your want; the wrecked echo of your throat and the sounds he pulls from you a clear tell. He flattens his tongue, holding steady as grind straight into mindless bliss. Spit pools and drips and slips down onto the sheets. Wonwoo hums praise, unintelligible but you vaguely know it’s something that’d make you blush you could hear it over the pounding in your ears.

Back arching, your vision flares white at the edges and when Wonwoo realizes what's happening he makes it last until your fist ball up and you’re floating.

Wonwoo backs down as you twitch through the tail end, sloppy kisses to your clit that could knock into another fit if he isn’t careful. But even as you tremble the only thing you want is the weight of his cock in your mouth, or inside you. You aren’t picky as long as you get to feel him cum too.

You finally manage to pry Wonwoo from between your legs with an ankle to his ribs. You’re not done with him despite the fatigue hanging around your shoulders like dead weight. He angles over top of you for a kiss that tastes too much like pussy for your liking but it’s hot knowing he’s covered in you so you push until his shoulders meet the sheets and you can claim his lap.

His dick strains through his underwear, preening when you rock back into the heat. His nostrils flare when you grab for it, stiff enough to sink onto easily.

“Oh god,” he groans, head digging back into the pillows to watch you like a goddess.

His fingers web across the tops of your thighs, a harsh grip keeping you flat as he grinds up into the wet heat of your pussy. You whimper and sigh for him; all the sounds he loves to hear. You squeeze your chest, taut nipples framed between the slants of your fingers to entice him until he reaches around and knocks you forward for the sole purpose of taking one in his mouth.

Your eyes roll back, jaw locked open, drowning in the stretch and the bite of his mouth and the hands squeezing your ass so hard it hurts. Wonwoo groans, throaty and desperate. “Gonna cum. Wanna cum in you. Holy shit.”

He gets you on your back. Too absorbed in his own end, he’s dead weight with his tongue between your lips and harsh thrusts that take him right to the edge. It gives that grit against your clit that means you’ll come too, soaked in cum and spit and sweat.

You wish he’d flip you on your front and fuck you with a hand between you shoulder blades and the other tangled in your hair. That’s the kind of fuck that’d leave you satisfied the entire weekend he’s busy but he’s running out of steam just doing this, picking up speed in his thrust, the clap of bodies filling the room.

Chanting his name like a broken record, ‘Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo’ breathy but loud enough your neighbors will leave another passive aggressive note on your door come morning, all you can think about is his cum. On you, in you. A sick part wants him to pull out and cum on your face – he hasn’t, not in a long time because priorities and responsibilities and you're usually lucky to have even five minutes alone before someone needs either of you. But you want it. God do you want it.

“Cum on my face,” you whimper. There’s drool on your lips and sweat in your hairline. Even if he doesn't, you'll need another shower anyway.

A strangled noise escapes from between his teeth at your neck. Then he’s driving forward so hard you burn; painfully so, mouth locked in a silent choke. Your orgasm rips through your insides, jagged at the edges where Wonwoo fucks himself into your guts.

“Fuck yeah,” he grunts, pulling away and replacing the grip of your pussy with a tight fist as he straddles your chest.

The taste of cock floods your tongue, heady and intoxicating. You get one, two drags against the stiff head and then he’s cumming, dripping his spend over your lips, then your cheek, then your glasses because he’s a sick freak. Even in the dim light from the window he twitches at the sight. You open your mouth and replace his hold, moaning as more comes to the surface. You swallow down as far as he’ll go which isn’t much in this position but it’s the thought that counts.

Wonwoo grinds to halt with an occasional kick of his hips that leaves you choking – rigid limbs locking in place until he melts with sticky satisfaction.

He’s up and off, your glasses in hand for a thorough cleaning, not even bothering to flick on any of the lights but you hear the sink running in the bathroom before he comes padding back.

“God,” you whimper in disgust. “That’s so gross.”

“You’re the one who asked for it,” Wonwoo snorts, soft passes of a damp cloth on your skin focused on getting you clean enough to sleep.

“Because it’s hot but you aim for shit.”

Wonwoo tosses the rag somewhere, flopping down and pulling you close as possible with a kiss on your forehead. “Next time I’ll aim for your hair.”

“Bitch.”

The sound of music from upstairs pulses through your head as you drift off, Wonwoo asleep on your chest, fingers laced together on the sheets beside your indecipherably intertwined bodies.

Your week is divided into a simple pattern. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays you wake bright and early to attend Dr. Wagner’s chem lecture and then stay on campus attending every other class you could find to fill the gap between your evening shift at the library. Tuesdays and Thursdays are void of responsibility until your afternoon lab with the freshman near tears while learning basic titration for four hours, followed by office hours where said freshman finally come to actually cry about their grades. Those are the nights you, Chan, Wonwoo and a handful of other lab techs work on research that carries the same threat of waterworks.

It’s there Dr. Wagner pulls you and Wonwoo aside.

“I know you both are applying to Dr. Collins lab for your PhD studies,” she starts.

Her office reflects the same disarray as her personality; warm and lived in. Papers and exams are organized in chaos, thick stacks lining her desk waiting for you and Wonwoo to enter them into the online grade book. Books, some leather, some paperback, some the glossy cover of a textbook with cracked spines and yellowing pages are crammed into the bookshelves lining the walls until they threaten to collapse from the weight. It smells like coffee, plants, and the candle she always has burning. It’s a cozy hovel overlooking the rear courtyard of the science building that resembles the sterility of a hospital.

Wonwoo occupies the other barrel chair with worn upholstery. You’ve barely seen him in the past three weeks, too busy with volunteering and working and classes while his own responsibilities keep him so exhausted it’s truly a miracle he’s even here. Dark stains ring his eyes beneath his glasses and he looks paler than usual. You’ll ask about it tonight when he comes over to work on your most recent stoichiometry project (which will be forgotten in favor of passing out during a movie while you play with his hair if history is anything to go by).

“I don’t think I’ve ever met two students who belong more in his lab,” she continues.

You try not to preen, but academic validation is a hell of a drug to caffeine addicted undergrads. Wonwoo perks up too. Three and a half years of barely being people for this moment and it’s finally in reach.

“However,” Dr. Wagner clasps her hands atop the dark wooden desk. “I’m writing only one recommendation this semester. It might seem unfair but I want to commit to the student that deserves it the most since my schedule doesn’t allow me much free time.”

It’s like being underwater. You hear her words but nothing registers, blinking rapidly in case this is a hallucination from falling asleep in the lab again.

“I know it might not be the news you hoped for but I know senior year is a lot, especially for students as involved as you all, and I thought this could alleviate some of the stress. You two are the only students I’m considering. So please, keep up the incredible work and we can talk again at the end of the semester when I have a more holistic evaluation of your progress.”

She stands to leave, snagging her purse and blowing out the candle with finality before abandoning the shit storm in your lap for whatever else she has to do on a Thursday night. Probably retell the events of the last five minutes to other professors in the department, laughing at the way you’ve turned purple from holding your breath.

“Have a good night you two! See you tomorrow!”

The office, once warm, feels hollow. You feel hollow.

“What the fuck?” Wonwoo hasn’t moved either, glued to his seat as he stares at Dr. Wagner’s now vacant chair with his mouth wide in shock.

“Did that just happen?” you scoff in disbelief. “Is she serious?”

Wonwoo collapses over his knees with his hands scrubbing at his face like he also might be hallucinating. “I needed that recommendation.”

“Well, so do I,” you argue.

“I know. This is bullshit.”

“Did Changkyun say anything like this happened last year when she wrote one for him?”

“No, all three people who asked her got one.”

“Oh, so it’s just us she hates. Great!” you throw your hands up, sinking deeper in the chair. Maybe it’ll swallow you whole and the entire ordeal will cease to exist.

“She’s probably just trying to get in our heads so we don’t slack off this semester.”

“Have we ever slacked off any semester? I’ve been on the President’s Honor List since freshman year. You’ve been on the President’s Honor List since freshman year. We’re those people.”

Since starting college, since that one night during orientation where you and Wonwoo became a ‘we’. Not in the relationship sense, but in the way two lines merge. Same path, same goals, same classes, same PhD program prospects. There was plenty you two did separately but more you did together. Neither competing, but working together.

But now that’s over.

Because only one of you can get into Dr. Collins lab, only one of you can get the recommendation, and only one of you can have what you both worked tirelessly for over the past three years.

“Listen—” you stand up and scrub at your own face. “It’ll be fine. We’ll figure it out.”

“We? Only one of us can get her recommendation. What’s there to figure out?”

Your face goes hot. He’s right. “Well, I need that recommendation.”

“So do I,” Wonwoo argues, eyes cold.

“Fine.”

That recommendation is mine.

“Fine!”

We’ll see about that.

Wonwoo stays in her office, flinching as you slam the door and flee.

The issue with fighting with Wonwoo is that as mad as both of you are, there are a million responsibilities you share that require close proximity.

Presently, it’s grading the last batch of exams. Seventy eight packets. And because Dr. Wagner doesn’t believe in convenience, it all has to be graded by the hand of two TAs running on nothing but caffeine and spite.

Which means it’s past midnight and the couch has a permanent impression of Wonwoo’s ass while you both silently fume and scratch through wrong answers with a heavy hand in red ink.

The weather reflects the atmosphere; pouring rain and thunder loud enough to shake the windows. The power has flickered in and out since the rain started but you're both too stubborn to call it quits – if there is nothing to keep you occupied then you might rip his throat out.

Wonwoo doesn’t even ask if you want more coffee before he snags your empty mug and moves to the kitchenette. You don’t look up when he sets it back down, and only grab it and take the first sip of perfectly steaming hot sweetness when he flops back on the couch without another word.

Then the power goes out again, and doesn’t come back.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Using the flashlight on your phone, you search the drawers of your desk for candles. There nowhere to be found amongst the stacks of unopened sticky notes and tangled cords.

Wonwoo shuffles behind you, papers landing on the coffee table completely abandoned. “We’ve been at this for hours. Let’s just go to sleep.”

“I have them in here somewhere,” you bite, another handful of chargers and a stapled you’ve never used and other things you didn’t even realize you own fill the drawer. You move to the second. “There’s only a few tests left.”

“We can do them tomorrow. It can wait.”

“No,” you spit like a curse.

Whatever Wonwoo was planning to say dies on his lips. “Fine.”

His shirt lands over your head, you rip it off only to find him half naked in the dark, huddling under one of the throw blankets you keep on the back of the couch. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sleeping.”

“On the couch?”

“Yep.”

“You’re too tall.”

“Well,” he draws like a pouty kid. “I don’t feel like sharing the bed with you.”

In a way it’s safer to argue about something trivial like this versus the entire reason you’ve iced each other out since that day in her office. Because at least like this, you won’t lose him. It’s stupid and petty but at least you’re speaking to each other; breaking through that wall of silence that’s been steadily growing more and more unnavigable as the inevitable draws nearer.

“Fine, then I’ll sleep on the couch and you take the bed.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. N. O.”

Fine.

It’s difficult to navigate in the dark. Your knees end up a victim to the edge of the coffee table and you trip over the edge of the rug, but you find the couch. Reaching down, you find his chest, then his shoulder. And once you’re sufficiently oriented you sit on him.

“Ow,” Wonwoo grunts as you flop down, elbow in his gut and his chin hitting your forehead. “What are you doing?”

You wedge in closer, slipping between his body and the cushions, bracing to kick him off by force if needed. “Sleeping.”

“Here?” he asks. Too aware of your plan, he turns as well, grabbing the back of the couch overhead to stay put.

“You’re too tall to sleep here.”

“And we’re both too big to sleep here together. Take the bed.”

“No,” you huff.

“No?”

“No. N.O. I believe you’re familiar with the word,” you spit.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“If you keep talking then neither of us will sleep.”

“Neither of us are gonna sleep anyway. You move too much to be comfortable like this.”

He’s right of course. Your hips already ache but if you move then he’ll find some way to pull you off. “I’m fine.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

You do the mature thing and bite him.

The muscles corded around his pec twitch under your mouth as he flinches. “What the hell was that for?”

You do it again.

“Stop.”

“Or what?” you ask, muffled in his skin as you move to leave another bite.

Wonwoo also does the mature thing and pins your wrists in one hand, maneuvering until you're sandwiched between the couch with his chest flat to your back.

“I can’t breathe like this,” you muffle into the cushions.

“Oh, how tragic.” You feel his words tickle the back of your neck rather than hear them.

Wonwoo releases your wrists pinned to your stomach. His hand finds its way under your shirt, his shirt from some stupid frat fundraiser you’d been coerced into attending, flat to your belly with soothing circles. His calf hooks over your own to tangle your bodies together. He kisses the back of your neck, a simple brush of his lips that lingers.

It’s easier to feel everything in the dark. Your annoyance and frustration forged over the past weeks melts away and all that’s left is the need to have Wonwoo close. Just like this. Where there are no deadlines, or responsibilities. Where you both can drown in each others’ presence and everything else is washed away in the heavy drops pounding the windows outside.

Here, everything is uncomplicated.

The next rumble of thunder is loud enough to send you both in the air. Unfortunately, Wonwoo drags you backwards off the couch and to the floor. You land relatively unscathed but he knocks his elbow into the coffee table.

“Are you okay?”

Wonwoo groans and curses, cradling his elbow.

“Aw, tell the doctor where it hurts,” you coo, prodding his side.

He snatches your hand and pins it to his chest but not before lacing his fingers through your own. The gentle rise of and fall of breathing and the thud of his heart reverberates down your arm and straight into your own chest where something frozen softens. “Has anyone told you you’re annoying when you’re tired?”

“Yes. You. Lots of times.”

“Good. Wanna make sure you’re aware.”

Lighting turns everything white, a quick flash highlighting the room. There and gone and leaving you more disoriented than before. Rolling over, you hook a thigh over his lap which he welcomes, tugging you closer and absorbing the proximity like second nature. You’re a glutton for warmth – Wonwoo’s warmth specifically – even in his sweater and his sweat shorts and his shirt, you still want more of him.

“We can’t sleep like this.”

You don’t want to move – laying like this, in the dark, nose dug into his chest as you twisting your fingers in his, squeezing and glowing pathetically when he squeezes back – all you want is to drown in him a little longer. Until you're forced to come up for breath.

But the sore spot between you two is still raw like a fresh bruise.

“Then sleep in the bed,” his lips drags over your knuckles as he speaks.

“No. You sleep in the bed, you’re too tall to sleep on the couch.”

“Fine.” Wonwoo jumps up from his place on the floor, grabbing your hands once again before dragging you around the coffee table towards the opposite side of the room. It’s ridiculously childish, especially in the dark where he bounces off the desk and the rug roughens the back of your legs.

He shimmies you around a corner and a cloud of laughter puffs between your lips. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sleeping in the bed, and you’re sleeping in the bed with me.”

“What if I don’t want to sleep next to you?”

“Then I’ll cry. Like that time we watched Steel Magnolias.”

“Have mercy,” you whimper.

“Then get your ass in bed.”

Deflating like a balloon, you stand. Wonwoo keeps his hands on you the entire time, guiding you down to the mattress and covering your body with his own just in case of an escape. He bunkers down in the safety of your neck, dragging your hands to his hair, mimicking the motions he craves until you take up the action and gently comb through the tangles.

A part of you wants to cry. Preemptively mourn the end of this – whatever this is. Late nights with Wonwoo, whispering in the dark about clueless underclassmen and annoying professors. Taking turns scrolling through adoptable cats at the local rescue. Cooing over them, rolling your eyes when Wonwoo finds Pixel still listed as available for adoption, a sign to him that he’s meant to have her except he lives in a frat house. Or the nights neither of you can sleep and take a trip to the local diner and tuck yourselves away in a corner booth to watch drunk people cling to consciousness over waffles and hash browns.

There will be no more of that. Not by the time winter break comes. One of you is getting the gold ticket and the other will be up in the air with the hundreds of other people competing for the same handful of slots. And if one of you doesn't get in?

“Was that so hard?” he whispers into your collar.

When you don’t answer, he looks up at. In the cast of lighting coming through the window he’s the same Wonwoo. The one you’ve been best friends with for years now. The one who is practically glued to your side whenever possible.

The one who you’ll have to say goodbye to.

He meets your kiss lazily. Like he still thinks you have all the time in the world.

It makes the urge to cry that much worse.

The rain is gone by morning.

The room glows from the orange light of the first minutes of sunrise. Sometime in the night you rolled to your side and Wonwoo pressed tight to your back. He’s awake, drawing shapes on your hip beneath the fabric of your shirt.

“Morning.”

You hum and roll over to burrow in his chest, the crown of your head digging into his neck and away from the sun. “Morning.”

The warmth of his hands trace the curve of your back, pulling you closer; hiding his own discontent with such an early break in the tentative truce that only seems to exist in the late hours of night and earliest minutes of dawn. Days of sleep deprivation with nothing but sterile lighting in the lab leaves you both needy and vulnerable. So he hugs you tighter and sighs when you do the same.

He’s hard against your thigh. Clearly a result of biology more than need because he’s snoring against your hairline. Flashes of dreams rush forward – him beneath you, on top of you, behind you. It’s been weeks since you two last fucked. When you called him an idiot and he called you stubborn and next thing you were on the table with your legs spread for Wonwoo’s hand in a clumsy bump and grind while arguing about which one of you fucked up the biosensor callibration through gritted teeth and needy whimpers.

You’re wet. With his thigh pressed between your own the fact becomes more evident as the urge to curl into it nags.

Taking advantage of the exposed curve of skin beneath your mouth, you kiss and suck with lax intent until Wonwoo tips his chin up and gives a silent green light.

A heavy hand drags down his front, nails scratching bluntly through the fabric until it can slip beneath the waistband of his sweats and the curve of his cock sits pretty in your palm. Commando for convenience and comfort. More the latter because there’s no shot in hell he’s been getting laid lately.

His breath is sticky in his throat, vibrating beneath your teeth from thin pants as you work him through a loose fist. “Can I?”

“Yeah,” he huffs. “Yes.”

Slouching down, your head rests on his stomach, sweatpants bunched around his thighs. The first lick sends his hips up in search of more and you eagerly supply the soft suction of your mouth; lips catching around the flared head. A hand on the back of your skull keeps your hair from interfering as he plumps against your tongue.

Eagerness fails to penetrate this moment slowed down by the greater need to drag this out. To savor every second because who knows when you’ll both stop being petty enough to just enjoy one another’s presence again.

“Might cum—fuck— don’t stop,” he grunts.

With the sun filling the room even more you’re running out of time, the warmth growing to leave sweat at the small of your back. He pushes harder into the curve of your throat and you let him, gagging wet with a lewd mix of spit and pre-cum that has you both moaning at the choked sound. Jaw slack, Wonwoo fucks your mouth with slow ruts; stomach tightening and the hand in your hair fisting tight enough you moan.

“Shit, babe—c-cumming,” he whines with a pathetic groan you’d make fun of him for later but all you can think about is the thick taste of cum and if there’s enough time for some attention between your own legs before life becomes unignorable. Not enough time for a real fuck but Wonwoo has a few tricks up his sleeve that promise satisfaction.

You bounce back down next to him and Wonwoo pounces, rolling on top of you, thing between your spread legs. He doesn’t shy away from your tongue against his teeth, dips a thumb beneath your chin and slips his tongue right along with it, sucks your lips until the swell, backing off only to bunch your shirt up. Lazy drags of his mouth on yours – not the ‘I need you’ kisses after a late night but the ‘I miss you’ ones after weeks of passive aggressive silence.

He licks down your front, goosebumps blooming from the draft as he sucks a nipple until you arch and twist a hand in his hair. You give a lax stretch and sigh while his hand slips beneath the edge of your panties.

Taking the morning for what it is, you fall into the motions until the blare of the alarm clock signals the beginning of the end.

You push away and swipe blindly at the night stand to make it stop but Wonwoo has other plans.

He pins your hips down, tongue flat to the crotch of your underwear with a pant. “Ignore it.”

“What?” You look at him and find tired eyes watching back from over the edge of your wrinkled shirt. His hair is a mess, stuck to the side of his head from sleep and your eager hands and all you want to do is comb the tangles out while he pulls your strings like a puppet master.

But you can’t.

“We’ve got class,” you gasp through a hot kiss on your clit.

A groggy groan of, “skip,” vibrates on your skin.

Fingers curling in the sheets, you grasp for disagreement only to find a moan as he pulls your hips closer and works a finger where you need it most.

“We can’t.”

“We can,” Wonwoo grunts, focusing on peppering greedy kisses to the sensitive insides of your thighs. “We’ve been early every time this semester.”

The hand not curling in your guts runs down the back of your calf, bending until it hooks over his shoulder.

“Fuck, Wonu,” you whine over the crude sounds of his mouth. You want to. God, do you want to. But you open your eyes again and they land on the stack of exams on your desk. Ungraded. Because Wonwoo said you could do them this morning. And now he wants you to skip class despite how important it is.

You close your legs only for Wonwoo to take it as a challenge, pinning your hips in place and celebrating his perceived victory with a throaty moan as he rocks against the bed.

“Stop.”

He pulls back, mouth wet and brows furrowed. “Huh?”

The alarm on your phone pings again. Swiftly silenced this time as you roll out from beneath him and land beside the mattress on unsteady feet. “We can’t skip. We have to give exams back.”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” he argues, flopping down into the warmth you left vacant.

The room is too bright, a clear sign your morning routine is behind. “You think now is the time to start slacking off?”

“It’s not slacking off.” Wonwoo snags his glasses. He looks more annoyed with them. “It’s a break. You clearly need one.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Just forget it. I’m not arguing with you about stupid shit.”

“And what's stupid shit? The job we signed up for? With the professor who controls our futures?”

Wonwoo fixes his pants and rolls out of bed. On the opposite side. As far away from you as possible. “Whatever.”

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

“Good!”

You slam the bathroom door shut with finality. When you come back out, any trace of Wonwoo is long gone.

There aren’t many people in class. A benefit of Halloweekend is the partying starts Wednesday and doesn’t stop until the following week. Even with last night's rain plenty of students are battling hangovers which leaves a third of the usual lecture attendance to witness you and Wonwoo go head to head while Dr. Wagner sits at home with a mysterious illness she announced in an email three minutes after nine AM.

The few that are there snag their papers, lips curled in disgust at the plethora of red ink spilled on white pages. Their own faults for not paying attention during lecture but maybe the scarlet gashes were a little dramatic. Wonwoo’s jaw is tight, pointedly ignoring you except to hand exams over that someone is waiting for with dread in their eyes.

You could’ve skipped. It wouldn’t even count as skipping because class is canceled and there’s no award for hauling ass at the crack of dawn when your advisor isn’t even here to see it. You could be tucked away in your apartment with him under your skin; firmly in the place between dreams and waking where you liked him best, nothing but warm skin and rough hands with his lips on your hairline and your head burrowed in his chest.

There are too many witnesses to just drop the act and wrap your arms around him from behind until he gives in. Apologize for the stupid shit he rightfully called you out on. But as your courage grows with each student’s exit, Wonwoo makes to leave before you can make use of it.

Barely an hour of fighting and it already feels like an eternity.

“Hey,” you call.

He freezes by one of the desks near the back of the room, like he’s shocked you’re even there in the first place. But he doesn’t turn around; just tilts his head so you know he’s listening even if he doesn’t want to.

“Sorry about this morning. I-I think the stress is getting to me.”

And the fact that I can’t be mad at anyone besides the universe for this incredibly shitty situation. And I miss you. Even when you’re right next to me.

“Okay.”

“That’s it?” you fidget with the strap of your bag; a million pounds heavier even without the weight of ungraded tests that Wonwoo snatched before you could divide the remaining work.

He turns around, eying you with an exasperated look. “What else should I say? You called me a slack off and implied I don’t do my job.”

“I didn’t,” you argue but it’s salt in the wound because—

“You did.”

“But—”

“It’s fine. I’ll finish grading the exams over the weekend.”

And then you're alone.

You’re alone in the study room you both usually occupy to work on the Nanochemistry project due at the end of term. The shared document has updates, the blink of his cursor mocking your from wherever he hunkered down. Away from you. The temptation to type ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again disappears once he logs out barely a minute after you logged on.

You’re alone at the circulation desk of the library through your shift, head whipping around to every squeak and cough only to find someone who isn’t Wonwoo. There’s an email from him, to Dr. Wagner with you CC’ed, about class averages and exam questions that should be thrown out.

You walk home alone. Other students in various states of dress and intoxication crowd the sidewalks, a few you recognize but they feel a million miles away.

Alone in your apartment, the two mugs from last night clean in the sink.

The good part of being alone is when you start crying, no one is there to see.

It’s near midnight and the chill of the breeze whipping down the street bites at your exposed skin. Already the should-be-condemned frat house pulses with life, the promise of a long night ahead thrumming through the symphony of drunk screams and music.

It’s not unusual for you to attend frat parties. Wonwoo’s favor guarantees free booze and a perch at the top of the staircase where underclassmen are barred from entering. But you’ll settle for watching drunk underclassman stumbling over the front lawn from one of the couches on the front porch (which are so broken in, no one sinks into the cushions – they just fall straight down until the worn springs catch them) because the inside of the house is too hot, and too crowded, and far too loud.

A hail Mary apology is the only thing on your mind. Yesterday had been the nastiest spat in recent history between you two; notwithstanding sophomore year when Jeonghan asked you for tutoring and Wonwoo insisted on helping. “Helping” meant cutting off every question Jeonghan dared ask with a series of snorts and huffs until you left and refused to talk to him for a week.

He’d apologized in the most Wonwoo fashion – completing your Thermodynamics assignments for the rest of the semester and before going down on you until you threatened to kick him in the head through sensitive sobs.

Wonwoo is here – somewhere. Shuffling up the past, past the line of eager party goers looking for a way in, you scan the front porch, he’s not in his usual waiting spot to whisk you upstairs where the older members hang out with better drinks and better music. Not that he would be. He doesn’t even know you considered coming to this.

Instead, poor Chan, dressed in yellow and black stripes, mans the door with pilot Jihoon by his side.

“Jihoon,” you greet, before looking at the younger man. “Speed bump.”

Chan mumbles something under his breath but lays on the ground regardless. When Wonwoo went through the same hazing you only got a few chances to enjoy the ridiculousness before he dragged you upstairs and shut you up himself.

“Can you not torment the kids?” Jihoon grunts.

“I could. But, where’s the fun in that?”

“Your boyfriend is inside. If you see Jun, tell him it’s his turn to watch the door.”

“Got it.”

Stepping over the underclassman still laying on the ground, you head inside and straight for the packed kitchen to get a drink. There’s barely any space between the hoard of bodies, forcing you to shuffle forward everytime there's a gap in the crowd; but it’s more like swimming against a rip tide.

It’s difficult to see with nothing but a few strobe lights and some strings of Christmas lights to clear the dark. One glance up towards the upper landing of the staircase is all it takes to find him right next to Mingyu. Matching costume, two bean poles standing out from the crowd of shorter men. Mingyu makes a brief nod in your direction but before you can see Wonwoo turn you’re off into the kitchen.

It’s an even tighter fit in here. A pledge pours drinks from a cooler, for a brief second you’re tempted to indulge. The last time you did, freshman year, you ended up crying in Wonwoo’s room mid-hookup. You scan the slim pickings and settle on an unopened beer. The shots you took while getting ready are already catching up.

Forced between anxious isolation and drinking, a few of your friends come up and briefly make conversation. You feign interest, eying over their heads for a familiar mop of dark hair without success.

A few guys stop to compliment your costume. They give themselves away in glazed heavily lidded stares, single minded focus on your legs. They ask what your major is, boast their status as pledges to your disinterested grimace, and move on when you finally put them out of their misery and fib about your “boyfriend” being “president or something” but “I don’t pay attention to those things,” and they all disappear significantly paler than when they first appeared.

You bite the bullet of your pride and turn to leave, only to find Wonwoo barely an inch away.

His eyes burn over your figure, the short toga covering just enough for you to avoid public indecency. Good. It’s the entire reason you wore this stupid costume in the first place. He’s a horny loser for nerdy shit and this is the best thing you could’ve worn other than one of those video game character costumes forcing your boobs in your throat and leaving you at serious risk for public indecency.

It’s not the first time you’ve wrapped yourself in barely enough fabric to constitute an outfit for the sake of his forgiveness and it probably won’t be the last.

Wonwoo pins you to the counter with his hips, hands bracketing your figure on either side. The green hat with an ‘L’ is lopsided on his head but at least he didn’t wear the fake mustache. “So, what is your costume?” he hums into the space just below your ear with a kiss.

“Guess.” You tilt your chin, cocky.

“And if I get it right?” he asks, lips at your ear.

Heart pound, you ditch the beer and reach for his hips with purpose. “Whatever you want.”

“Dangerous words.”

“Think of it as my apology for being a huge bitch yesterday.”

He sighs into your neck, arms tight around your waist in a loose semblance of a hug. It’s a farce. Your ass meets the counter with minor effort and Wonwoo claims the space between your legs before you can pretend to object.

He still hasn’t kissed you.

You want more than kisses. You want to feel him, all of him. Want to drag him to the living room serving as a makeshift dance floor and sink into the heat of his body pressed flat against your own for everyone to see. You want to pull him into that closet off the main hall, familiar from that hot night of freshman year when a drunk make out turned into a timid fingering and eventually Wonwoo handing over his first time on a silver platter. Or even run back to your apartment, pluck through the leftover Halloween candy you bought on discount and watch whatever horror movie has become his recent obsession. You just want him.

“Mingyu thought you were Socrates.”

Pressed this close on the sticky counter, his body is the only thing protecting what little of your dignity is left. Even then, there's enough of the slippery warmth of alcohol to tempt you into rutting against him right here for those stupid pledges to see. “Mingyu is an idiot.”

“Clearly,” he chuckles. “The rubber chicken gave it away.”

You shake it at eye level. “Behold, man.”

“Lame,” his kissing gets bold down the shaft of your neck, teeth scraping your collarbone.

“Oh please, I feel your boner.”

He doesn’t resist you when you nuzzle along the bare parts of his neck, a tease of soft kissing usually reserved for quiet moments tucked away in your apartment. Even in the chaos of the party, body heat turning the air uncomfortably warm, you crave more of his closeness.

His hands feel nice on your legs. None of the timid gentleness of years prior when he’d touch you like it’d burn if he wanted it too much; trailing higher and higher but never under the short hem of the bedsheet turned dress. His fingers flex into the muscle at the outside of your thigh, hook behind your knees and drag you to the edge of the counter.

You're sweating through your own skin when he kisses you.

The need in your gut blooms at full force. Your mouth loosens, welcoming his tongue and teeth and whatever else he’s generous enough to give while you tug at the loose fabric around his hips to force more close proximity; the zipper of his pants is hot against your core and if you fucked him right here it wouldn’t look that different than the PG-13 make out happening right now.

“Wanna show me your room?” You blink like some moony eyed freshman, glassy, pupils blown from vivid images of all the possibilities in the solitude upstairs. Wonwoo is fine with the game of whatever your apology entails even if it means you throw cheesy lines like that.

He ushers you off the counter, flat to your back as he pushes through the crowd with you ahead. Even in a drunken haze people part out of his way because of the mastery of resting bitch face only he seems to have despite the complaint putty that lies behind it. A private smile splits your lips. He can’t be that mad. Not with how he pulls you closer, in the protective way he so often does in the buzz of a single minded crowd with more alcohol in their veins than blood.

Mingyu is standing on the landing. Girls in scraps of fabric eye him up and down, even in his stupid costume with the mustache but he ignores them in favor of pouting straight into a red cup.

“Why is your boyfriend moping?”

“Fuck if I know.” Wonwoo focuses on sucking another bruise on your neck like no one's watching.

You’re loose enough not to care about Mingyu’s annoyance as Wonwoo ushers you by. “Cheer up buttercup, I’m sure there’s a Peach here into charity fucks!”

It’s meant to be encouraging, but Mingyu looks like he’s torn between strangling you and throwing himself over the banister.

Maybe you did lie about being Wonwoo’s girlfriend, but he is president and his room is the biggest and furthest away from chaos. Up on the top floor where the music isn’t as loud and the only people on this floor are other members and their guests for the night.

Wonwoo pushes you inside, kicking the door shut loud enough you wince before crowding you against the wood. You throw his hat away somewhere into the darkness, hand twisted in his hair as he kisses you. Sloppy and gross until he rocks into the softness of your stomach, gasoline on the flame.

“Turn around.”

He barely gives you enough space to do so, pressing you flat once again, cheek squished to the door and a rough pull at your waist.

“If you’re thinking about touching my asshole, don’t. I have shit to do tomorrow,” you warn.

On the other side of the door you hear footsteps but they pass by without stopping.

“Noted, but not what I’m going for,” he jokes.

Your skirt flips up and a draft against the damp crotch of your panties sends a tremor straight through your core. “Share with the class.”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I’m shaking in my toga.”

“And you call me a loser.”

“I can call you some other things,” you grit, pushing back into the heat of his covered cock. “They aren’t as nice though.”

“Yeah, yeah. Take your panties off.”

He’s a little bit of a freak. Sometimes he enjoys fucking you in nothing but your underwear and others he wants you in everything but. Maybe because of how this entire thing started; when you wouldn’t even take your bra off and he survived on the barest flash of nipple.

The flimsy soiled fabric barely passes your knees before he’s on you again, easily tempted by the arch of your spine. You hum content as he presses a finger into your cunt, then two. His other hand forces the neckline of your dress down and lo-and-behold your lack of bra delights like you knew it would.

Whatever bright idea that fluttered in Wonwoo’s brain is forgotten as he spins you back around for an eyeful of naked skin; a mouthful of your chest and your leg hooked around his hip for a pathetic dry hump into the heel of his hand.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan with extra emphasis and a caved stomach because there’s teeth and he makes it hurt. “Kiss me.”

Another rut into your thigh and his teeth are back at your bottom lip. It’s not exactly what you anticipated when you showed up tonight but there are far worse places than having a doorknob in your back while Wonwoo leaves a hickey below your ear; a perfectly good bed ten feet away but neither of you can be bothered to move much more than forcing Wonwoo’s pants down enough his cock leaks in your grip, head nestled at your entrance.

You surprise him by sinking to your knees. Head tipped back against the door, you tilt your mouth open to welcome him on your tongue. Wonwoo stares down at you; tits out, hand between your legs as you suck his cock in quick motions until he takes over and fucks into the curve of your throat.

“Holy s-shit,” he hisses and you flatten your tongue to help him along. It feels good; seeing him reduced to so little just from the wet suck of your mouth on him.

A choked gag forces Wonwoo back into his body, hips curving away so you can swallow air before leaving a sloppy kiss on the tip. Seizing him in a tight grip, you use the spit to jerk him off until he cringes with another pathetic moan.

Someone giggles in the hallway, close enough you both hear. They’re far enough away you can still whisper to Wonwoo. “Remember that time we fucked in here last year?”

“When you almost got us killed?”

Last year, at the same party, when you showed up in a skin tight Shego costume, Wonwoo pulled you to the only available room: Seungcheol’s. It’d been hot. Fucking when you aren’t supposed to, having Seungcheol pound at the door while Wonwoo came down your throat (no condoms and no hope to clean up).

“Do it again.”

His hand creeps into a loose collar around the base of your throat. You keep rubbing between your legs, working up a slick slide until your nails dig into the skin of his thighs.

“Really?” There’s no need for muffling the noise when it's his room and the only people at risk of hearing anything have done far worse. He pulls you to your feet, forces your cheek against the door and slides right behind you. Like he was made for you.

“Choke me,” you gasp before digging into the sick part of your brain that likes seeing him strung out, extra breathy just to see his eyes go wide. “Sir.”

Your skin sticks to the door, shamefully squeezed as he drags his cock through the mess of your pussy. “You can’t just say that.”

“Why not?”

“Because—”

“Because what?” you goad. “Gonna punish me?”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you? Show up wearing this,” he grits, tugging at the white fabric bunched around your waist, using the hand on your throat to squeeze your cheeks tight with authority you drool for. “Asking to be choked and now you probably want me to spank you and call you a good girl.”

You grunt through the raw thrust at your gut, sending your head back from sheer enthusiasm. “N–not my fault you fuck me so good.”

Wonwoo almost can’t control himself, hearing nothing but praise fall from your mouth as he fucks you limp against the door. “God.”

Someone screams, “Leave room for Jesus!” from the other side of the door and you almost rip it open to kill them if Wonwoo wasn’t dragging you to the bed.

He folds you onto your front, both standing at the foot of the bed. A deep roll of his hips and you’re filled completely.

“O-oh, fuck me,” you moan, uncaring if the idiot outside the door is still listening. Wonwoo has a hell of a hand and puts it to use against the curve of your ass. The coil in your gut pulls taunt as he delivers one after another.

He fucks deeper, a the hand not burn against your bottom between your shoulders. “You look so good— ah —taking my cock like this.” His voice waivers with the same stunted rhythm of his hips.

“W-want,” you choke on spit, drooling into the comforter. “Wanna taste you.”

The animalist need to suck both your flavors off his cock nearly sends you into a fit but Wonwoo’s there, hooking his hand back around the front of your neck with a subtle squeeze. You want the stupid dress off, you want Wonwoo’s clothes off, you want to fuck him where there’s no one around to catcall in the hallway like twelve year old boys. Want. Want. Want.

What you get is enough pressure from his fingers that your mind blanks. Wonwoo gets a tight enough squeeze on his cock that he’s forced to a grinding halt.

Then his rhythm goes deeper, harder. Course curls against the resistance of your ass until you almost collapse against the edge of the bed. His cock hits that spot like it was made for your body. “Touch yourself.”

You comply without further command. You’re wet, soaked, arousal smeared down your thighs from Wonwoo’s treatment. Your fingers bump against his length as you match the pace of his strokes. “Fuck, Wonwoo — hmmm.”

“Tell me how it feels,” he gasps like it’s his first breath in hours.

“Wet, so wet,” you croon, arching harder, joints locking. “Gonna cum. Oh my god.”

He reaches low, grabbing your hand from between your thighs and pulling it to his mouth for a taste. His tongue slides between your digits, liquid slick with a soft suction your crave on your clit.

“Beg for it.” Wonwoo bites your shoulder hard enough you cry.

Stuffing your hand back between your legs, you play with your clit clumsily. Until pink crowds the edge of your vision and it hurts. “Please, please! I need—Want it. Wanna come for you. Please, sir.”

Wonwoo strains to hear your pleas over the clap of bodies. He’s worked you near the middle of the bed, practically laying on top of you as he fucks in quick succession.

“Harder, fuck me,” you demand. “Yes, yes, y–yes!”

If you were on top you’d fall straight off, jerking tightly under Wonwoo’s weight, turning your face to greet his tongue between your teeth and mewling sensitivity. He doesn’t show mercy, continuing to fuck you through the worst of it.

“Holy shit,” you whimper, head throbbing. Wonwoo forces you back on your knees and you fight through sore muscles and sensitivity to preen under the weight behind his hips.

“Can I come in you?” he asks in a shivery breath.

You nod with closed eyes, tugging the hand around your throat to your lips and sucking his fingers like it’s a cock. He finishes with a choked breath, flooding your insides with sticky warmth you’ve never gotten used to in all the months you’ve fucked without condoms.

His breath fans against the nape of your neck, another swivel of his hips from the sensitivity. Your walls squeeze as Wonwoo pulls away.

You roll onto your back with a bounce, Wonwoo jostling you when he joins. Shoulder to shoulder, you stare up at the ceiling while catching your breath. “Do you think you’ll pop a boner when your students call you a sir next year?”

Wonwoo heaves a long breath, amusement in his voice. “I come inside you and that's the first thing you think of?”

Immediately you regret the joke. Since Dr. Wagner’s announcement weeks ago neither of you had broached on the topic of what happens after graduation. Mostly from fear. But also because it’s a long discussion you’re not exactly sure what you want out of.

“Answer the question.”

“I hope not.”

The bed shifts beneath your knees as you crowd over Wonwoo, laying with his arms behind him to keep from sinking flat. The tired lines of his face look deeper in the lamp light. He’s nothing more than a big softie that wants to cuddle half naked in his bed while you play with his hair until sleep finds its place.

“It’s our last Halloween party.”

“Wow, just like old times,” you snort. “Should I start crying? Then it’ll be just like freshman year all over.”

Wonwoo laughs, his hand snatching yours and lacing your fingers together. “You wore a bra and bunny ears freshman year so if you’re gonna whip that out too – by all means.”

“God, we were so lame,” you announce matter of factly. Crying in lingerie and animal ears in one of the supply closets downstairs all because—

“Don’t rope me into that, miss ‘crying-because-she-didn’t-know-how-to-suck-dick’.” Wonwoo rolls on top of you, hoping to silence whatever argument bubbling in response with a teasing press of his lips. You're still sticky with sweat and spit and cum, nipples and pussy out and the thought of his dick, limp against your thigh, makes you sensitive all over.

“That’s former miss ‘crying-because-she-didn’t-know-how-to-suck-dick’,” you trail off into his mouth. “And you’re one to talk. Remember the time you cried about how happy you were that we were friends.”

He bites your lip in retaliation. “I didn’t.”

“You did. I have the video from Mingyu.”

“I thought he was an idiot.”

“He is but he’s good for blackmail.”

You might consider staying the night if he keeps tracing his nose along the arch of your collarbone. But a shrill giggle and some pornographic moans ring through the walls of the neighboring room. Not the side Seungkwan occupies. Hoshi’s. And it’s only the start.

“We can’t sleep here.”

Wonwoo collapses, tugging you with him. “I can’t ditch again, I’m on pledge duty.”

“You’re hiding in your room with me.”

“Okay, technically I’m on pledge duty.”

He wouldn’t stay here if he wasn’t required. Wonwoo hates party nights, especially Halloween. Too many variables requiring all hands on deck; too many needy people demanding his presence for some issue that could’ve been handled if they used their brain to think farther than the tip of their nose. Rarely, if ever, does he sleep in his own bed when you have a perfectly good one tucked away in a private apartment without thirty other men tripping over each other.

“Well, I’m not sleeping with that.” On cue, another whimper, clearly a man’s, breaks through the tentative silence. Are they fuck against the shared wall?

Wonwoo sighs, scrubbing his face before moving for his phone. “I’ll send one of the kids to walk you.”

“Wow, a pledge escort. How thoughtful,” you sneer.

He huffs again, unwilling to start a fight that’ll leave neither of you satisfied. “Text me when you get home.”

You don’t.

There is an unspoken habit between you and Wonwoo that Sunday mornings are spent at the only reasonably priced coffee shop just near your apartment. A charming hole in the wall, with hanging shelves displaying layers of tchotchkes, paintings lining whatever free space between them, and wobbly tables with equally unbalanced chairs. It’s always packed because the coffee is decent and they have outlets. After last night, you hope he’s too exhausted to even think about showing up.

Mugs click against dark lacquered tables, the dull murmur of conversation churns over the music swelling softly through the speakers. The smell of pastries and espresso wake you enough to slide into a vacant table in the corner and set to work.

Or you would’ve if someone didn’t sit down first.

“Oh.”

Wonwoo already has a mug and a little brown bag as he looks up at where you stand dumbly.

“I can just go…sit somewhere else…” You turn to leave, except there are no other tables. Couples and groups claim every single seat except the one across from Wonwoo.

“Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know, probably because I’m mad at you.”

He unpacks his laptop, shaking his head. “You’re not mad at me.”

“Yes, I am,” you emphasize.

“You’re a bad liar.”

Neither of you are good at lying. Even worse at fighting. Incapable of committing to real anger when it takes all your energy to stand up straight and not fall asleep in a pile of ungraded papers and half finished assignments. Besides, you're only pouting because he passed up a night at your place to clean up pledge vomit.

You can’t tame the annoyed grin cracking your face. “Fine, I’m not that mad at you. Buy my forgiveness in the form of coffee.”

“Too much caffeine will kill you.”

“I can only hope,” you sigh, arms cradling your head against the hard wood of the table while he joins the queue at the register.

Wonwoo orders your drink and a cheesy pastry the size of your head, the smell of greasy carbs first thing in the morning softening the ice in your veins. He knows your weaknesses too well.

“Is this penance?”

“Something like that.” He tears the crispiest corner off and pops it into his mouth.

“Did you look at the study guide for Calc yet?”

Two hours later you approach the counter for a second round of coffee and snag one of the jammy tarts Wonwoo likes but rarely buys for himself. Whatever chaffs between you two melts under the constant stream of note checking; Wonwoo’s hand on your knee under the table helps too.

“If I look at this anymore, I’ll run into traffic.”

“We’ve got the Nano project that needs some work,” you suggest.

He stretches wide, a sliver of skin visible between the hem of his sweater and the band of sweat pants. “I’ve got practice in an hour. We can do it tonight when I’m done.”

You try not to stare and instead return to focusing on the screen of your laptop burning your retinas.“I’m tutoring Seungkwan.”

“After?”

“He’s gonna be a bitch and the last thing I wanna do is look at more school stuff.”

“Then no school stuff,” he decrees with finality. “I’ll bring mushroom pad thai from that place on Market.”

“Are you trying to bribe your way in?”

“Is it working?”

You hum a dismissal but watch him through your lashes. He looks good – washed in late afternoon glow, hair a mess with glasses and a sweater that hangs off his shoulders. It all screams ‘drag me to bed and nap the rest of the day’ which is trouble for you because you still want to be mad at him if only to see how fair he’s willing to go for your forgiveness.

“We can watch Yellowjackets,” he barters, packing his bag.

Another group eyes your table with hope to claim it the second it’s available. Sadly, your ass is firmly planted for the rest of the afternoon. With or without Wonwoo.

“You’re really trying to butter me up, aren’t you?”

“I cannot sleep in that house,” he deadpans. “Please take mercy.”

“Oh, so you’re just using me for a place to sleep. Even after I wore that stupid Halloween costume?”

He pauses, eyes glazing like it’s a distant memory and not less than twenty four hours ago. “You looked hot.”

“You made that pretty clear.”

“Anyway, I’ll come over after practice. You can bitch about Seungkwan until you pass out.”

“Fine, but if there is no pad thai then don’t come.”

“Whatever my woman demands,” he snorts, dropping a kiss to your lips before turning towards the door.

Two hours and another coffee later, Seungkwan occupies Wonwoo’s abandoned chair. There’s no reason for him to be taking an intro chem class as a Creative Writing major other than the fact he’s a bit of a masochist. He’s not half bad at it and doesn’t really need any tutoring but you get paid for showing up even if it’s complete silence as you pick your nails until he needs something.

You’re marking through his latest attempt when he finally speaks up, “You're dating Wonwoo, right?”

Red pen scratches through the edge of the paper. “What?”

“You and Wonwoo.”

What is the absolute configuration of the two carbon atoms in this compound? More red ink.

“What about me and Wonwoo?”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes with exasperation, like you’re on the outs of some obvious joke. “Dating.”

If an alkene has 24 hydrogen atoms, how many carbon atoms does it contain? Another X.

“No.”

“Oh, I thought—”

“We’re just friends.”

When 10 g of 90% pure lime stone is heated completely, the volume (in litres) of is liberated at STP is… Wrong, again. Which makes no sense because Seungkwan is good at this level. He’s fucking with you on purpose.

“Huh,” he comments, grabbing the worksheet back from your claws.

“‘Huh’ what?”

“I heard a rumor he had a girlfriend last night, that’s all.”

It's not the first time someone assumed there's more between you and Wonwoo then there actually is, your fib last night clearly fanned the flames of even more speculation. But neither of you date; not enough time, willpower, or patience to entertain someone around packed schedules. If you and Wonwoo didn’t have the same life within the chemistry department then you’d never see each other. It’s convenient as it can possibly be.

Maybe at one point there was. Summer of sophomore year when he studied abroad in Spain and the usual substance of correspondence morphed from memes and jokes to something softer; I miss you’s and you’d like it here’s. Late night phone calls that lasted hours, refusing to hang up first until one of you fell asleep and the other finally canceled the call.

But the opportunity to tip over the edge came and went without coalescing into whatever was on the other side.

Seungkwan can pretend it’s an innocent suggestion but he stares you down until you crack with your own curiosity. “Who told you that?”

“Some pledges said they accidentally hit on his girlfriend. I don't even think he knows another girl beside you. Plus you were at the party last night.”

Stupid fuckers, you mutter under your breath. “We’re not dating.”

“But you guys are always together.”

“We work together. You and Vernon are always together, are you two fucking?”

“My room is next to his and it doesn’t sound like work to me.”

“How does me failing you sound?” you spit.

Seungkwan doesn't so much as flinch at the threat but returns to the practice sheet with a smile nonetheless.

Typically, fall break is spent hidden away in a pile of blankets with you and Wonwoo alternating movie choices throughout the weekend. Dead Poets Society (him), When Harry Met Sally (you), Over the Garden Wall (him), Fantastic Mr Fox (you), and so on and so on.

This year, you have a strong feeling Dr. Wagner’s favorite pastime is seeing her TAs squirm. It’s the only explanation for the unique brand of humiliation she subjects you and Wonwoo to. Tonight, Friday and technically your first night off for the long weekend, she decides to engage in a new sort of torture. A fancy dinner that neither of you could ever hope to afford, and even as her treat, you still eye the menu prices nervously.

But Dr. Collins sits across the table, in the flesh, so you pull out the skills you learned in the ridiculous theater class you took freshman year to “diversify” your transcript and smile through the anxiety.

Wonwoo does a little better; in a button up you’ve only seen him wear a handful of times when his usual wardrobe is sweatshirts and free shirts from campus events, he looks more comfortable than you feel.

“Jill, tells me you both work on Epitranscriptomic mapping in her lab?” Dr. Collins asks after another sip of his drink. Two whiskeys at dinner.

It’s not an official interview. Not anything close to it, according to your advisor. Nothing is set in stone, even if Dr. Collins laughs at Wonwoo’s awkward jokes and nods enthusiastically to your stories about working in the library (he also worked in the library in undergrad, but used it to nap more than actually work). But it feels like a step in the right direction.

“Yes, sir.” Wonwoo and you nod in tandem.

Dr. Wagner’s research focuses on how different RNA modifications vary across various cell types and states. It’s high level stuff that no one but Wonwoo understands when you rant about the broken Cellraft machine. And his complaints about NovaSec’s constant crashes that leave him without work fall on deaf ears except when they’re directed at you.

Half the reason you two started speaking during orientation is because the overly enthusiastic intern asked what people were looking forward to the most during school. You and Wonwoo were the only ones who seemed to think she meant school-related and not where to buy a fake ID. Apparently, the best person to get a fake ID from was a junior in Dr. Wagner’s lab that year. Go figure.

“I’ve seen you two listed down the line as co-authors,” he nods.

The waiter brings dessert, spiced toffee cakes and ice cream. You’re starving but the knot in your stomach from when you sat down is even tighter and all you can do is pick at the plate.

“Well, Y/N does a lot of the troubleshooting for the RNA degradation issues,” Wonwoo shares.

Your face heats at the unexpected but not undeserved compliment. Dr. Wagner’s work isn’t cheap and the thought of wasting valuable money, money that could line the pocket of an extra set of hands, forced you to run a tight ship. The other researchers in her lab could say what they wanted behind your back but Dr. Wagner nods with fondness and you try not to preen.

“We’d be a mess if it wasn’t for her,” Dr. Wagner agrees. “The lab techs should write her a card.”

Not wanting to leave him out, you shoot a look to your left where Wonwoo pulls at the napkin in his lap. “Wonwoo is the one that made sure the parameters made sense for the last publication.”

“Also true.” Dr. Wagner smiles. “I told you, Harry, they’re my best students. Excel a mile past my TAs last year. They work together exceptionally well. If I could keep them both for next year, I would.” She says it with finality. There might very well be an opportunity to stay here and continue in her lab, even if your ambition has outgrown the place you’ve called home for four years.

The table is cleared, your plate full of mashed cake and melted ice cream with not a single bite missing. You’re exhausted. Mentally, emotionally; physically from the three all nighters you’ve pulled this week. There’d be an earful from Wonwoo about the dangers of sleep deprivation (hypocrite) but he looks like he’s seen a ghost tonight and won’t sleep himself.

Dr. Collins glances at his watch with a muffled yawn, “My, my! Look at the time! My apologies I didn't mean to keep us all out so late. I know you two probably have far more interesting things to be doing than spending the evening with a couple old timers like us.” He winks at Dr. Wagner, who rolls her eyes and hands the check back to the waiter who can’t be more than nineteen. “It looks like I’ll have some tough decisions to make in the upcoming weeks. Best of luck to the both of you.”

Hands shakes all around, and an awkward shuffle at the door and Dr. Collins and Dr. Wagner disappear into the night, leaving you and Wonwoo alone on the long walk back to campus.

You don’t beeline to your apartment for a debrief. Or even to ignore the obvious awkwardness cracking between. A bench to the side of the campus green is where you find yourselves, across from the fountain that upholds the tradition of drunken seniors taking a dip during finals when they’ve given up.

You want to drown in it.

“Wonwoo,” you whisper. “What happens if one of us doesn't get in?”

“I–I don’t know.” He peers down at you with what you think is grief and the white noise that follows his quiet admission chokes painfully. There’s no plan B for something like this

If you got in, then Wonwoo did too. An unfounded assumption that wherever you went he’d be there too, based on almost four years of something between you. Too much to be friendship but too scared to call it something else. Something more. All the stereotypical college firsts had been with him or witnessed by him, you assumed grad school would be the same.

But it can’t be.

“Then we should end this.”

The words are out like shaken champagne, a dramatic explosion you can’t take back; a mess in the slimmest inches of space between your bodies on the bench in the freezing air.

“What?” he says.

You can’t swallow back down the idea. Wonwoo won’t let you. Maybe you don’t want to. You stare at the fountain across the green with a twitch in your jaw.

“One of us is gonna move to Boston and the other is gonna have to figure it out and I’d rather not hate you or you hate me when it happens.”

You won’t take it back but you won’t look at him either.

“You think I’d hate you?”

He’s staring at you. You can feel the burn of his gaze on your cheek where embarrassment heats as well.

“I would.” You ignore the break in your voice at the complete lie. “I’d hate it if you got in and I didn’t. Even though you deserve it and I couldn’t be mad about it. I’d hate it. All I’ve wanted since freshman year is to go there, and I won’t ruin it for you just because I can’t have it.”

For a painstaking moment, he doesn’t say anything. His shoulders are still rigid and he props his weight into his knees, head bowed so you can’t even see his face in the stark street light. He doesn’t do anything until you do, until you slump with utter defeat.

“Fine.”

“Fine?” Your voice pinches in your throat.

“What else is there? You’ve already decided for the both of us. That stupid fucking program matters more to you than—”

You heat close to explosion.“It’s not stu—”

Wonwoo rushes off the bench. “It is! It is because we’ve been dating for the past three years but you won’t even fucking admit it! You’ll tell some stupid pledge I’m your boyfriend but everytime I think we’ve worked it out – that you’re finally ready to talk about it – you pretend nothing is happening.”

“That wasn’t—” you shake your head.

“It’s fine. I’ll get over it.”

You move quicker than he does and find his hand, but he doesn’t want to stay and you can’t stop him from leaving. “Wonwoo.”

“Stop.” His voice is stoic, whatever emotions previously controlling him locked up tight behind faux dismissal. “Just…stop.”

If you’re going to lie then the smallest favor you can do is obey his command. You hide your face in your hands, cheeks hot and eyes stinging. Because if you look at him then you’ll break into a million pieces. You’d admit to lying to his face; that you could so much as entertain the idea of hating him.

Wonwoo waits but you say nothing. No argument, no final comment.

When you finally look up he’s far enough down the sidewalk that the pathetic croak of his name is unheard.

Endpoint: a critical moment in a chemical process where a specific change indicates that the reaction is complete.

Two days later, when you finally get the balls to call Wonwoo and apologize, to tell him he’s right and that you’re an absolute idiot, he’s already blocked your number.

In a game of passive aggressive pettiness, Wonwoo takes gold.

He won’t talk to you outside of class and lab hours. Even then, he refuses to look at you; talks straight around you. Any form of correspondence you receive has Dr. Wagner’s name attached and anything you send without it is loudly ignored.

Other people notice too.

In study hours, the students notice, whisper to each other when Wonwoo snubs your attempt to discuss a batch of graded homework in favor of focusing his attention on a cowering freshman who looks like he might piss himself when Wonwoo calls him by name. All the others bury their heads in their textbooks in fear he’ll pick them next.

In Nano, when he shows up just in the nick of time to leave his self-assigned seat next to you empty, and instead sitting next to the door. You feel the eyes on you, hair standing on end at the back of your neck when Dr. Lim stutters through his intro with wide eyes at the scene.

Seungkwan shows up to tutoring significantly less interested in your love life. Or he pretends he isn’t. He doesn’t ask outright and there’s pity in his eyes, thick enough you want to burst into the tears you’ve waited to come for the past two weeks. Instead you feel hollow.

Even Mr. Lee, the night guard at the library, eyes your solitary exit with something like concern. Even going so far as to call campus public safety to escort you the short walk home.

Your other friends try to take you out, get your mind off the tilt in your world axis. You go. Sit at bar tables and laugh when you're supposed to, make empty conversations with strangers but you don’t care. You want to go home and curl up in your own misery like a blanket and cry until your eyes swell shut and pass out from exhaustion. Eventually, they stop asking if you want to come and just leave ice cream and bottles of wine on your doormat as support.

Your grades don’t suffer, and that’s the only thing you can cling to right now.

In Dr. Wagner’s office, an impromptu meeting under the guise of setting final exam expectations and tinkering the schedule, Wonwoo continues the harsh coldness of silence; content to pretend you don’t even exist.

You work through it easily enough. You and Wonwoo have the same finals so there's only two schedules (Dr. Wagner’s and your shared one) to coordinate for extra study hours. The entire ordeal takes ten minutes to complete the shared calendar, pack it full of final lab meetings and deadlines for grading.

And when it’s over, you move to rise but Dr. Wagner stops you short.

She looks sheepish which is an odd sight. Immediately, you go to the worst. You grit and swallow and sit back down in the same upholstered chair from the last time she dropped a bomb in your lap.

This is the bandaid rip you’ve waited for all semester. Whatever is at the end of this meeting means you finally know if you’re good enough or not. If karma does justice and gives Wonwoo the spot in Dr. Collins lab next year because you committed the sin of wanting it too much, sacrificed too much.

“It seems my attempt at friendly competition had some…unintended consequences.”

Where sizzling anger would once flourish and bloom, nothing but empty exhaust stutters to life. “What?”

“Last year, the second my TAs found out I’d recommended them, they slacked off. Missing class, incorrect results in the lab. Now I know you two are hard workers but I was afraid senioritis might set in and I’d have to lay down the law. I don’t like being harsh with my students, not directly anyway. I want the best out of them, and I knew I could anticipate the best from you two. I was always planning to recommend both of you to Dr. Collins. I told him he would regret it if he even thought about not making space for you both next year.”

“What?” you repeat again.

There’s a weight on your knee. You don’t even need to look to know it’s Wonwoo’s hand. He doesn’t look before flipping it over when you place yours on top, fingers knotting together; holds it tight like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go. You unconsciously squeeze and he mimics without thought.

“So what does this mean?”

“Dr. Collins can’t outright say it but he’s on the admissions board and decides who gets to join his lab. He was adamant that both of you join him in Boston.”

“But we haven’t even—”

“I know, but the application is a formality at this point.” She waves a dismissive hand. “Your work speaks for itself.”

Wonwoo is still there, clenching your hand for dear life. Waiting for the other shoe to drop because there is no way – no way – it’s this easy. Months at each other's throat from the tension and for nothing. You’re sweaty, heart thumping loud enough it might break from your chest and skitter on Dr. Wagner’s desk. She keeps talking and you still haven’t looked at Wonwoo.

“I’m so proud of you both!” she beams. “And I’m sorry if I’ve…complicated things…for the two of you. It was never my intention. Now, go! Rest! Take the day off and celebrate. Send me the links to your applications and I’ll do my part so you can finally relax before finals.”

The pair of you shuffle outside like zombies. In broad daylight, the world keeps spinning and someone drops their coffee a little further down the street and curses a storm; a car honks at a biker, there's packs of students shuffling around where you stand dumbfounded. Your sweater does little to block the chill of late November wind.

Wonwoo still hasn’t let go of your hand.

“Did that just happen?” he asks.

“What the fuck.”

Your laughing, deranged and fatigued cackles that earn several looks but on the cusps of finals it’s not uncommon enough to stop anyone out of concern. “What the fuck!”

You’re not sure what to do. Celebrate? Cry?

It’s a little bit of both as Wonwoo swoops in, wrapping his arms around you tight enough to squeeze a surprised scream from your lungs. He’s not done, lifting and spinning you around in a quick circle before crying, “What the fuck!”

You laugh, snorting ugly cackles as he almost drops you with both of you gasping for breath. Completely deranged but what just happened that the rift between you momentarily heals.

Wonwoo sets you down gently but keeps close, his hands your waist like he’s afraid to let go. Like he’s missed you just as much as you’ve missed him. You finally look at him, and it’s the first breath of air after drowning for hours. The creases around his eye, the happy wrinkles around his nose. His hair is long enough it brushes your skin where your foreheads almost touch. His hold is like a cocoon of warmth.

“I’m sorry!” you blurt. “I’m so fucking sorry. I’m stupid and stubborn and I’ve been so caught up in this program that I—”

“No,” he shakes his head, arms tightening as you squirm in his hold.

“Let me finish.”

“No,” he says. “I like that you're stubborn and a pain in the ass. And it wasn’t fair that I expected you to just push aside something like grad school for me. I was being selfish and—”

“I love you.”

You might say it again just to see the way he chokes and turns purple; pulls you closer. He’s at a loss for words and you capitalize on the moment.

“I’ve thought about what would happen if I didn’t get in, like a million different possibilities and never once were you not there. I felt like…I don’t know, honestly. Like I was losing you and it was easier to be upset about the program than admit that. It was stupid and I’m stupid, and I’m really bad at speeches so…feel free to shut me up or whatever.”

You wait for him to process what you’ve said – a million emotions swiping across his face. Ridiculous some people act like he’s the embodiment of stoicism because if you know what to look for then they’d realize he’s terrible at hiding the way he feels.

“You love me?”

All that crying you did in the past few weeks means nothing because you could cry right now. But you don’t look away, you don’t ever want to look away from him again because you’d miss the way his face softens.

“Well, we’ve been dating for the past three years. It’s about time I told you.”

Wonwoo doesn’t speak, facing morphing into confusion before he scoffs with disbelief. “You’re so annoying.”

“Hey!” you stomp but Wonwoo pulls you closer, buries his face in your neck and squeezes so tight something feels on the verge of popping in your spine. His ears burn red as he whispers those three words back quietly enough you strain to hear them. He bites your shoulder just to be an asshole.

“What the hell was that for?”

He does it again.

“Stop biting me you freak, we’re in public.” You pinch his side for good measure and only then does he smash the side of his face to yours and begin walking you backwards, in the direction of your apartment.

“Whatever, you love me.”

He lets you walk normally at the cross walk, your hand in his, both tangled in the warmth of the pocket of his sweatshirt because it’s fucking cold and the wind isn’t helping. Wonwoo drags you straight home, up the stairs, and crowds you against the door and kisses you until you can’t breathe.

“Why are you crying?”

You are. You don’t even realize it had started until you reach up and feel the dampness on your cheeks.

“Probably because I haven’t slept in two days and I missed you, idiot.” Wonwoo kisses you flat on the mouth again at the confession, smiling big enough it’s less of a kiss and more of teeth pressed together. But it’s good. You like it. You speak into his mouth, “I promise I would have really ‘sloppy I love you sex’ but I’m so tired I think I might throw up.”

“You missed me.” he hums, more of a statement than a question.

“Yeah, big head, I missed you. Now let’s sleep.”

“God,” he moans, biting his lip in mock pleasure. Maybe even real pleasure at the idea of a Friday afternoon full of nothing but hazy dreams in silence rarely found in a frat house. “I love you too.”

You undress straight down to your underwear. Cotton with a conservative cut because in no universe did you think you’d end the day with Wonwoo back in your orbit. Wonwoo who loves you, Wonwoo who you love back. But he eyes you like you’re a grand prize and all he wants is to touch you. But the rush of adrenaline keeping you conscious is burning out quickly.

He strips too, nothing but boxers and circles under his eyes but he’s happy. It radiates off him in waves and if you weren’t part of it, you’d throw something at him because it’d be annoying. You might just be glowing too.

You slip under the covers and Wonwoo snuggles up behind you, a second skin with his hand flat to your stomach to keep you from going anywhere. Not that you would. You don’t even remember falling asleep.

When you wake up, it’s dark outside; which could mean it’s been minutes or hours since the winter sun likes to deep beneath the horizon early in the afternoon. It’s the best sleep you’ve had in weeks.

Everything is warm; your body beneath the comforter, where sweat sticks at your back, the lips dragging across the curve of your neck, Wonwoo’s crotch firm between your legs.

“Good morning to me,” you sigh.

He hums in happy agreement, tongue traces the shell of your ear before kissing across your cheek and chin and finally landing on your mouth with a kiss that can only be described as sappy.

“Got started without me?” Your hands press under his underwear, two palms full of his ass holding him still enough to grind up into. Something about a sleepy make out has you hungry to lay there and take whatever he’ll offer.

“I’ll catch you up, don’t worry.”

You snicker, “No wonder those freshmen have crushes on you.”

“What do you mean?” He traces your naked sides with his fingers.

“I’ll catch you up,” you mock, then wince from a razor of his teeth as he shifts down your chest. “If you were my TA, I’d try to fuck you.”

“I’m trying to have’ sloppy I love you sex’ and you’re trying to goad me into some student teacher shit?”

He bites your side, just a nip but you flare and blush anyway. “Ooooo, tell me I’m bad.”

“You’re annoying.”

“You love me.”

“As I was saying,” he whispers into your stomach, fingers tugging your panties off. “Sloppy I love you sex.”

“Okay, okay.” You sink a hand in his hair only for him to tug it away, fingers laced together over your sternum as he strokes you to life. “O-oh, that’s—fuck.”

He hikes a leg up over his shoulder, out of the way for the fingers that satisfy the empty squeeze in your gut. Your tongue prickles with another goad but Wonwoo senses it first and swiftly works to silence you with a hot kiss to your clit that makes your vision bleed red.

The cold of the room works in his favor, pinching your nipples tight until you cave to the need to touch yourself. If the light was on then he’d watch and you get the urge to pause the action just for the chance to watch him watch you.

“Don’t stop,” you grunt.

He eats it filthy, spit and arousal forming a wet mess slipping down your ass. The way his tongue lashes is nothing short of despicable and you know you’re the one that taught him that and you can’t help but flare with pride. “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m—” you chant blindly.

The warmth between your legs surrounds, suffocates until your thighs go numb and your shoulders pull away from the mattress with a groan rivaling porn; but you mean it. Wonwoo means it too.

You clench harder, revitalized in the stretch of another finger and a clip of teeth on your clit. You tug at your still clasped hands on your chest, bite into the meat of his palm and let the flood consume you with stiff legs and tears in your eyes. “Oh, Wonwoo – u-ugh. Fuck. Fuck.”

Wonwoo takes it, mouth waiting for every eager roll of your hips; completely unphased until you melt back in the sheets with a pathetic mewl.

He kisses up your body, mouth and cheeks wet and warm. When he reaches your mouth you resist the urge to lick him clean. Something about that feels decidedly unlike sloppy I love you sex. So you slip your tongue between his lips instead and spread your legs until his crotch is level with the raw sensitivity of your own.

“Roll over,” you pant.

Like an asshole, he laughs. And then he drops his weight behind his hips and you actually see stars. “Wanna do it like this.”

“Make love to me,” you croon.

He doesn’t even pretend to stifle the obnoxious snort. “Don’t ever say that again.”

“What happened to sloppy I love you sex?”

“Getting to it. You like it when I come inside you?” Now he’s the one goading and you’re blushing like you’ve never fucked him before. To be fair, you haven’t fucked him as the man you’re in love with so it’s a first time for the both of you. Wonwoo’s drunk on the power of having you stutter through something so familiar yet new.

“Love it.”

“Good,” he agrees with a saccharine peck to your nose that makes you feel like a doe eyed virgin again. “I love you.”

Your need for games and pretense dissolves. You just want Wonwoo, all of him, until you can’t take it any more.

Wonwoo senses the change, noses against your cheek before kissing you. He’s still holding your hand, the other cupping your jaw, thumb tracing the curve of flesh. It’s vulnerable and soft and something you probably could’ve experienced years ago if you weren’t willfully blind.

“I love you, too.”

You whisper the confession so quietly it doesn’t even make a sound but Wonwoo figures it out because he surges into action, pulling you to the center of the mattress in all your naked glory. The flood light from the side of the building reflects back in through the slats in the blinds and Wonwoo sits up to soak in what he can see in the limited light.

Twisting a hand in his hair, you pull him down for a kiss; forcing all the emotions you have to the surface. He doesn’t make you wait. Instead, he drops flat, flat together from head to toe as he slips inside. You’re still tight and sensitive, squirming at the feeling of being stretched so thin with Wonwoo wrapped tight in your arms.

“W-wonwoo,” you mewl. You know he loves the sound of his name, any time, in desperate moans and sleepy coos. You’ll say it as much as he wants to hear if he kisses you like he is now – with something new at the edge. Something needy. “More.”

He wraps your legs around his hips, folding you clean in half with a heavy rut into your pussy you’ll feel for days. You both want to drag this out – take hours to come apart and come together again and again – but Wonwoo is already working a hand between your bodies; stroking you over hot coals just to hear you moan his name again.

In record speed, you feel that familiar burn creeping along your spine. He fucks you into a wet mess and it’s all you can do to hold on and claw up his back. Breaks you into something limp and pliant, hands twisted together over head; tugs at that loose thread over and over until you unravel beneath him and Wonwoo watches like it’s magic.

“Oh- oh, Wonwoo–” you cry. Actually cry. Tears he swipes away with a thumb before pressing his mouth to yours.

You’re swollen and stiff, muscles taunt while they twitch from a rush of complete bliss.

“M cumming, baby – oh my god.” Wonwoo bucks into the tight squeeze of your legs, deeper, harder, more. “Love you—fuck.”

He hides with soft sighs in your neck, skin sticky where you both slide together. You cradle him to your chest, fingers rushing through the sweaty tangles on his hair gently. A kiss to his head, his brow, his nose that wrinkles from pure content.

But you’re not done yet.

You wiggle from beneath him, peeling yourself off the pillows, lower half still numb from one hell of an orgasm. But you want more, insatiable and doped on years of repressed fondness. “Can you go again?”

Wonwoo looks like you asked him to run a marathon. “You want me to die?”

“Worse ways to go,” you coo, sinking low enough to take his cock in your mouth. It tastes like you and him and it makes your eyes roll.

“God. I didn’t know sappy sex meant you’d try to kill me,” he moans airly under your ministrations, a hand at the back of your head when you show off with a nose to his crotch before sliding off. “You’re evil.”

“I’m in love with a sexy nerd and I'm horny,” you sigh dreamily, thrilled with the way he pulses in your hold.

“Yeah, well…” he gives up on whatever rebuttal under the weight of your body on top of his. Nothing he can argue with in that statement anyway so you tease him with a kiss, smile when he chases your mouth, roll when you realize he can taste the mix of you both off your tongue.

“You know…I’ll need a roommate in Boston.”

“Huh,” Wonwoo feigns. His focus is on the way your tug at his cock, spit and cum webbed between your fingers. This isn’t the best way to have this conversation but you’re both high on sleep deprivation, love, and orgasms and it encourages loose lips.

“Know anyone interested?”

He shudders back into the pillow, leaving his neck open for your teeth with a choked, “Yeah.”

“Who?”

“Me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah —fuck—wanna wake up to you every morning.”

“Even if I’m a cranky bitch?” Your knees bracket his hips, cunt split on his cock as you grind against the underside.

His stomach caves as he responds with a thin voice, “yeah.”

You like waking up to him too. Falling asleep with him tangled in your body, listening to him hum in the shower when he thinks you aren’t listening. Sometimes he even sings with a little encouragement like those times you were sick and the only thing that got your mind from exploding like thunderclaps was the lullabies from his childhood that he cooed into your hairline.

Starting and ending everyday with Wonwoo sounds nothing short of blissful.

“Okay.” You tangle his fingers with your own, rising on your knees to distract from the sheepish smile splitting your face in two.

“Really?”

“I like having you around,” you admit, sinking down on his cock. “Makes me feel better.”

Weird conversation over the back track of slapping skin and pathetic muffled sobs but you like it. Feels well overdue.

“A-about?”

Everything.

He gives a tender squeeze to your thigh, cradles your face in both hands, eye contact that you fight not shutter away from because it’s terrifying he can see you clearly.

He’s lost; completely mesmerized by the way you bounce on the length of him, grind back into his lap like you’re possessed.

“Can’t last—” he chokes.

“S’okay,” you press the words into his cheek, his jaw, the bones jutting from around his collar. “Just wanna feel you.”

You bend and strain for his pleasure, to watch it dance across his brow as he cums inside you again, his hands heavy on your ass, your thighs, whatever he reflexively grips in a bid for grounding, nails leaving streaks of color. Twitching and jerking in sensitive painful bliss, his eyes roll back with a quick exhale. “Fuck-k.”

You're sticky and used between the legs but you take comfort in the feeling and bask in the glow on top of him. Nothing but a pile of satisfied boneless goo where you lay with sweaty skin and heat you feel from the top of your head to your toes. “Good?”

“Great,” he hums, pulling into one last toe numbing kiss.

When feeling returns to your bodies, you spend the rest of the night eating greasy pizza on the couch in nothing but his shirt, drinking wine straight from the bottle in celebration. You kiss Wonwoo whenever you want, which, admittedly, is a lot; a flurry of sappy pecks over his face leaves him blushing and dewy. When you fall asleep after making love once again, the last thing you hear is him saying he loves you too.

Epilogue

4 months later…

There’s a certain level of comfort that comes with receiving an official acceptance email. The words you’ve been waiting to hear since Dr. Wagner all but confirmed your future in a fifteen minute meeting last semester.

On behalf of the Chemistry department, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted as a part of…

The big envelope in the mail today helped too.

Wonwoo sends a photo of his, unopened, because you promised to open them together tonight. On your date; which is nothing more than grading assignments and eating leftover take out on the couch like so many nights have been spent already. But this time he’s your boyfriend. And after all the worksheets are graded, and you get to cuddle deep into the worn couch cushions, you get to tell him you love him and he’ll say it back and the flutter in your veins at the thought is nothing short of magical.

And this time you have a surprise waiting for him and he might just cry. Or you hope so. You’ve got $50 riding on the possibility.

You’re sweating through your shirt from putting the new piece of furniture together for the past three hours by the time he shows up with a bag of takeout, Thai food from the place on Market where they know you by order, and a kiss you’ve been missing since the morning when he left for one of his stupid workouts.

Wonwoo sets the bag on the counter, immediately pulling you into his arms before sagging like a deflated balloon. “Pixel got adopted today.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He’s moping. He accepts your placating kiss with a pout, and starts unpacking the food.

You feel the smallest flutter of guilt but it's worth it. “That sucks.”

“She needed a good home.” Wonwoo confirms and that's the end of the conversation.

Even in your final semester, your schedules are still packed. Crammed full with meetings, exams, work, Wonwoo’s volleyball stuff that you attend with posters and sit near the other girlfriends. It’s weird but not because its the same stuff you two were doing for years. But it’s exhausting.

So you don’t blame Wonwoo for not noticing the newest addition to your apartment until he’s inhaled his food and the last third of yours.

“Babe.”

“What?” you ask, focusing on cutting another red slash into the white paper.

“What’s that?”

He points at the gigantic cat tower in the corner next to the couch. It’s cramped in tight but in two months you’ll both be in Boston with a bigger apartment with real bedrooms so it’s only temporary.

You shrug and make another mark. “Oh, just something I picked up.”

“You don’t have a cat.”

“Huh. Weird.” Your eyebrows furrow in mock confusion but you keep grading papers or else it’s game over and the need to watch him puzzle together your plans is all you want. “Then what’s the thing in the bathroom?”

“You didn’t.”

“I did,” you confirm.

Wonwoo stares open mouthed, between you and the bathroom door and back to you. He might pinch himself but he flies off the couch with childlike eagerness and your face hurts from smiling already.

Pixel spends the rest of the night curled up asleep on her new dad’s lap and you’re $50 richer. Mingyu’s girlfriend is already offering to catsit despite Mingyu’s pouts about losing money.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie

@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire

@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi

@writingbarnes @dokyeomkyeom @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @idkjustlovingbts

@wobblewobble822 @futuristicenemychaos @seungkw1 @horanghaezone @jespecially

@scoupsjin @isabellah29 @luvseungcheol @crisle19 @iamawkwardandshy

@lukeys-giggle @aaa-sia @tinkerbell460

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thatnewweeb · 4 months ago

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Childhood Sweethearts | Bakugo Katsuki

Summary | You moved to America when you were young, having to leave behind your childhood sweetheart. After moving back to Japan, you'll find out if things have changed between you two

Content | Fluff, honestly I can't think of any warnings for this so let me know if you see anything that needs a warning

Word Count | 1.7k+

A/N | I love the idea of Bakugo being in love with someone through his whole life, I have no idea why. At the time of posting, I wrote this forever ago

It had been almost 5 whole years since you moved away. You missed home. It wasn't like you'd wanted to move away in the first place, but your dad's job took you away from Japan all the way to America.

Finally, at 18 years old, you finally convinced your parents to allow you to move home. Having attended an elite hero school for the past 2 years, you managed to have some special arrangements made for your return home.

And so, that is how you got to where you are now, nervously walking down the halls of UA next to Principal Nezu. He had spent the first half hour of the morning before classes began showing you around and explaining a few things to you.

At the start of homeroom at 8:25AM, he walks you to the classroom of Class 3-A, the class you will be joining, starting today.

Everyone looks over as the door opens, the principal strolling in and standing at the front of the class. You follow nervously. These people have had nearly 3 whole years to get to know each other, and here you are, the new girl joining in the final year, not knowing anyone.

At least, you didn't think you knew anyone, until you force yourself to look at the class properly.

Your eyes immediately fall on a blond boy in the second row. His own eyes are widened, locked onto you. A moment later, you rip your eyes away from him, prompting him to look away also.

When you realise Nezu has stopped speaking and is now looking at you, you snap out of it and look at the whole class.

"My name is Y/N. I have two Quirks, which I am sure I will have more time sometime soon to explain. I look forward to spending this year with you." You say and bow slightly to the class.

Your homeroom teacher, Aizawa, points you to your assigned seat, so you sit down quietly, not saying another word.

It isn't until lunch, almost four hours later, that you say anything else, besides answering questions in class. Your fourth period was English with Present Mic. Having lived in an English-speaking country for almost 5 years, it was quite an easy class for you.

Almost as soon as you are dismissed from class, you're surrounded by people, wanting to talk to you, get to know you. You're fine with that, but you did have someone else you wanted to talk to. They already walked out the door though.

"Y/N!" Someone says, popping up in front of you out of nowhere.

"Izuku!" You smile, excitedly throwing your arms around your old friend.

You see a brown-haired girl blushing as she watches you hugging Midoriya.

"I can't believe you're here! I didn't know you were coming back!"

You nod. "I know, I'm sorry I didn't say anything."

He shakes his head, wanting to reassure you. "It's okay! We fell out of touch, that's not anyone's fault."

Izuku invites you to spend lunch break with him and his friends, being introduced to them all, him explaining a little about how he got into UA at all.

After classes have finished for the day, you don't give Bakugo the chance to run. As soon as you're dismissed from class, you walk over to his desk, standing in front of it and resting your hands on the surface.

"It's nice to see you again, Katsuki." You smirk.

He looks up at you from his chair briefly, quickly looking away. “Yeah, it is.”

You lean down so you’re closer to his height, him still avoiding eye contact. “Would you mind walking me back to the dorm? I haven’t actually been there yet, Nezu didn’t have time to take me.”

He tuts but stands up, picking up his bag and slinging it over your shoulder. Not saying a thing, he leaves the classroom, you following him. You know what he’s like, you know to follow.

As soon as you're out of the halls and outside, he decides to say something. "I didn't know you were coming back." He mutters.

You're just happy to hear him say something to you. "Yeah. I know."

He takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

You pause where you are, stunned. You hadn't expected him to apologise to you.

When you don't say anything, he sighs and turns to you, also stopping walking. "I shouldn't have stopped responding. I was upset you were gone, and I went about things in the stupidest way. I... I regret it."

It takes a moment for you to say anything, blinking in shock. "It's okay." You smile brightly up at him. "I understand. It was hard on both of us, after all."

"Yeah, but I ghosted you. I shouldn't have done that. Not to you, you don't deserve that."

"I agree you shouldn't have done it, dummy. But I'm saying I understand, okay?"

He smiles a little, looking down at you. "Come on, let's go to the dorms." He tugs on your backpack, indicating that you should take it off. When you do, he slings one strap over his shoulder, carrying it for you.

"Since when did you become a gentleman?" You ask with a small laugh, making him grunt a 'shut up' to you, his cheeks going slightly pink.

Finally reaching the dorms, Bakugo opens the door for you, letting you into the large building.

Everyone else is already there, the people in the communal area looking at you as you enter. Other than Izuku, people seem a little surprised to see you with Bakugo, and even more surprised that he doesn't look as annoyed as he typically does.

With everyone staring, Katsuki shoves your bag back into your arms before walking over to the stairs to go to his room.

You smile a little as you watch him, shaking your head.

Izuku is the first person to come up to you, smiling. "Everyone wants to get to know you a little. If you have some time, come sit with us?"

You do what he says, walking over and taking a seat between him and a boy with a black streak in mostly blond hair.

You end up spending a couple hours with them, telling them about your Quirk and what it's like to live in America. When they ask about you seemingly already knowing both Izuku and Katsuki, you tell them that you grew up with them.

A girl with pink skin, who you learn is Mina, asks you for some stupid stories about them as kids, Izuku going red and telling you that you don't have to talk about anything you don't want to, trying to save himself the embarrassment.

Even though you're unsure if Bakugo will be annoyed at you for telling them this, you also tell them a few stories from when you and him were dating before you left for America.

Everyone seems surprised, a small uproar coming from the class. No one had ever even seen an indication that he had ever been interested in anyone, yet alone had a girlfriend. It appeared to be a ludicrous idea to most of them.

Kaminari seems to deflate a little upon realising you dated one of his best friends. Guess he thought you were pretty.

Not long after, you go find your room, needing to unpack. Right before you close the door, a foot stops it from closing. A second later, Bakugo comes into view.

"Well, hello there." You smirk a little, looking up at him.

He smirks back, placing a hand on the doorframe, standing in front of you. "Hey. Care if I come in?"

You move out the way for him to come in but tell him it's a little messy because you're still unpacking.

He doesn't even look at the room, closing the door as soon as he's inside and standing close to you, essentially pinning you between him and the door.

That's when you really realise how much he's changed. He's so much taller now than when you last saw him, his shoulders broader, entire body more muscular, a few visible scars now. The whole thing makes you a little flustered.

"So, do you have a little American boyfriend now?" He asks with a slight snarl, expression turning into a smirk as soon as you shake your head. "No? Then, would you mind if I kissed you?" He whispers in your ear.

You don't verbally respond, but the look on your face gives him the answer he needs. He keeps one hand on the wall, the other coming to rest on your waist, leaning in and pressing his lips against yours. Your own hands find your way to his chest, gripping onto his shirt.

A moment later, he pulls away a little, smirking. "Guess we haven't missed a beat, huh?"

You laugh, not letting go of his shirt. "Suki, you're an ass." You say, making him laugh too.

"Yeah, but you love it." He whispers, leaning in to kiss you again. "It's starting to get late, and you haven't finished unpacking yet. If you wanted to stay in my room tonight, you're welcome to."

You look up at him, a little surprised by the proposal. When he sees the look on your face, he panics a small amount. "I didn't mean it like that! I meant we can spend the night sleeping together- no, not sleeping together! Not like that! I just meant- we- we can- I meant-"

You giggle at his nervousness, making him look a little angry. You move your hands to rest on his cheeks, standing on your tiptoes and smashing your lips against his.

When you finally break the kiss again, both a little breathless, he stares at you, mouth open slightly.

"Sorry, I had to find a way to shut you up." You smile. "I'd love to cuddle tonight, Suki."

He looks relieved, taking your hand. "Come on, let's go."

You spend the rest of the night in Bakugo's dorm, cuddling and eventually falling asleep in his bed.

Before he falls asleep, he spends a few moments just watching you, barely being able to believe that he got lucky enough to get you back into his life. He gives you a soft kiss on the forehead, holding you tighter, closing his own eyes and falling asleep.

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homunculus-argument · 7 months ago

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My usual problem of "and then some other shit happens" is that they keep piling up on top of each other. This morning, I was just about to start work when

mail comes in. I've received a letter from the tax office.

I open the letter and get a Fuck No Way That's Right kinda bill.

time to hit up my accountant and ask what the fuck do I do now

realise that I haven't delivered my accounting stuff for like four months either, gotta apologise to her about that too

e-mail doesn't go through, double-check the address, re-type my whole apology and explanation again

four consecutive e-mails do not go through

fuck I gotta call them, where's my phone

just as I was about to make a phone call, I receive a phone call

forgot I had a phone appointment with my doctor, turns out I do not have a natural physical resistance to poison damage, and my medication resistance is something else.

confident in my ability to execute two unrelated tasks at once, I take a sip of my tea while on the phone. Naturally I fuck it up and pour the lukewarm tea on my lap instead.

figuring that since I'm unhurt and only poured enough to soak my clothes, not my chair, I'll just sit with the wet tea on my lap until the phonecall is over, and hang them to dry on the balcony later.

phonecall done, I remove my clothes and go hang them up to dry.

spot my little ficus tree cutting on the balcony, decide to water it since it's so hot and I don't want the thing to die.

coming back inside after leaving my clothes on the balcony, my boyfriend sees me undressed and wants affection.

he also wants to show me a video that he came upon.

make myself more tea

coming back to my computer, remember the phonecall I was supposed to make.

call the accounting people and tell them I can't e-mail the person I worked with, and get informed that the person I had been working with quit unexpectedly, and the one currently running the whole business on her own will look into my shit once she's personally out of the hospital. She meant to call me earlier about What The Fuck I'm Doing but unfortunately hospital.

promise her to deliver my accounting things today since it's the least I can do to not make her day any worse than it already is.

save through my paypal activities, log onto my online bank, check my account and do some math to confirm that I should more or less be alright until my next payday. Move some more money to my bank card account for groceries, and log out.

remember that the reason why I logged into my bank in the first place was the accounting, and log back in to get that data.

send my records to my new current accountant with apologies for not doing that for four months despite of being supposed to do it monthly.

finally done with that, satisfied of actually Getting Things Done, I suddenly realise I've spent the past three hours on random sidequests, haven't even touched whatever it was that I was planning to do today, and top of that I've completely forgotten what it was that I meant to do.

waste another half an hour writing a meticulous account of how I spent my morning doing everything else than what I meant to.

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rynbutt · 8 months ago

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pierced. pt. 4 | spencer reid.

"Focus here, sweetie."

you can find the other parts on my masterlist.

cw: fem!reader, 18+ content, suggestive as fuck, making out, nipple stuff (my finger slipped), fluff

a/n: this made me feral

He had been gone for weeks.

You hadn’t seen Spencer in almost four weeks after your little date at his desk. Case after case came through and he and his team were sent all over the country. You came to understand that Spencer’s job was hectic, wondering how any of them had social lives at all with how often they were called into work only to disappear for days or weeks at a time.

Spencer had called you a handful of times while he was in Illinois, telling you all about the UnSub they caught while you were half asleep working late at your desk. But after that, it was radio silence from Spencer and you could only assume he was neck deep in work just like you.

You sat at your desk, leaning back in your chair with a loud sigh. You were sure your boss had it out for you, given how you were basically the last one in the office trying to finish up a project. You tried to take it as a compliment that they trusted you to handle these things but god you just wanted to go home, pour a glass of wine, put on a face mask and pretend to have your shit together.

The exhaustion made your eyelids feel heavy and your vision blurry. You let out a tired yawn, attempting to blink away the deep desire to crawl under your desk and nap. The sudden buzz of your phone kept you from nodding off at your computer.

Spence: Are you home?

You: Nah, I’m at work, sorry :(

Spence: Still? Isn’t it a bit late?

You: What can I say, I’m an ass-kisser

Spence: Have you had anything to eat?

You: Not yet, I’ll worry about that later

Spencer read your message but didn’t reply. You turned your focus back to your work, sipping on your cold coffee to hopefully bring you back to earth. After forty-five minutes and another two cups of coffee, you finally finished your project. You were in the midst of sending a half-assed email to your project manager when you heard the elevator ding.

“Is Y/N still here?” You heard Spencer’s voice and your heart fluttered.

“Oh yeah, she’s just around the corner,” one of your coworkers replied. You rolled your chair back from your desk, peering around the corner as a lost little Spencer looked around.

“Spencer?” You called softly. His eyes darted to the sound of your voice, his face lighting up at the sight of you. He looked so precious in his sweater, with his messy hair and mismatched colourful socks. He did a little run down the row of cubicles to your desk, holding a plastic bag of what you assumed was takeout.

You stood up to greet him, the exhaustion suddenly dissipating, “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to bring you dinner,” he replied, holding the bag of the best smelling food out for you.

You pouted at the gesture, “Spencer, you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. As a thank you for bringing me dinner the other week,” he said with a smile.

“Wait… how did you know where to find me?” You raised a brow at him, staring at him sideways. Spencer’s face went red, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“I’m sure you told me,” he lied.

“You’re a bad liar.”

“Garcia maybe… did some digging,” he replied under his breath, staring at everywhere but you.

You playfully punched his shoulder, “you stalker,” you laughed.

You pulled another chair over for Spencer, sitting down at your desk and finally pulling your dinner out. You don’t know where Spencer found this food but it was probably the best thing you’d ever eaten… but you also hadn’t fed yourself in 12 hours so maybe your judgement was slightly skewed.

“When did you get back?” you asked, mouth full of food.

“Two hours and four minutes ago,” Spencer replied, playing with the little Hello Kitty figurines on your desk.

“Spencer!” you scolded. “You must be exhausted!”

“I’m okay, really,” he quickly said. He let out a breath, shyly avoiding your gaze, “and… I wanted to see you.”

You smiled softly at his confession, reaching over to move some of his messy hair out of his face, “you’re cute.”

“Thank you,” he beamed.

The two of you sat at your desk for another hour as you ate your dinner and finished up your passive-aggressive email to your manager. Spencer helped you clean up your small collection of mugs and carried your bag for you while you cleaned up your desk. You walked to the elevator together, reaching up to gently grasp Spencer’s hand in your own.

“This okay?” You asked.

“Y-yeah, of course,” he replied quickly, feeling his hands going clammy and praying you didn’t notice.

You were lucky you lived within walking distance to your job, it proved to be very convenient for exercise and the price of fuel didn’t murder your already dusty bank account. Spencer opted to drive you home since it was late and he wanted to make sure you were safe. You tried to offer him cash for fuel but he waved you off (you hit twenty dollars in his glove box).

Spencer pulled up outside your apartment building, the two of you sitting in a comfortable silence for a moment before you spoke, “you… want to come up?”

“Oh… yeah, yeah, sure I can,” Spencer replied nervously, clearing his throat.

“You don’t have to,” you laughed.

“No, no, I want to,” he said quickly, putting his car in park and taking his keys out of the ignition.

The two of you walked up to your apartment, Tofu rubbing against Spencer’s leg upon his arrival. Spencer was delighted by this revelation (he’d done a lot of research on cats after finding out you had a cat).

“Did you know cats rub up against you like this as a way of putting their scent on you?” Spencer said, running his hand along Tofu’s back, “so other cats know you’re theirs?”

“I didn’t know that,” you lied, of course you knew. But you would never let Spencer stop talking. You shrugged off your coat, tossing it over one of the chairs at your kitchen table. “Make yourself comfy, I’m just gonna go change.”

Spencer watched as you walked to your bedroom, Tofu trotting behind you. He awkwardly shuffled around your apartment, admiring the polaroid photos stuck to your fridge of what he assumed was your friends from your hometown. He smiled softly at how happy you looked. A particular photo of you at a halloween party made his face heat up. You were wearing a white lacy bralette, a white skirt and angel wings. Your friend next to you was dressed like the devil and your other friend dressed as… the Pope?

But that’s not what caught his eye, it was the fact he could clearly see your breasts through your see through top. He could see the little gold studs on either side of your pert nipples, truly juxtaposing the whole angel costume. Spencer had honestly almost forgotten you had your nipples pierced (no he didn’t).

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” you almost scared Spencer out of his skin. He was so distracted by your… assets, he didn’t hear you leave your room.

“Uh, nothing- nothing… just this,” he grabbed the closest thing to him, which happened to be your toaster.

“My… toaster?” your eyes narrowed.

“Yup, love this model,” Spencer nodded, putting your pink toaster back down on the counter.

You glanced at the polaroids on your fridge, deciding not to embarrass him further, “you want a drink? I have wine, wine and… wine?”

“Oh, no, that’s okay. I need to drive home,” Spencer waved you off before shoving his hands in his pockets. Spencer glanced at your outfit, the baby blue tank and grey shorts made a comeback and now he was rethinking the whole ‘wanna come up?’ scheme.

“How bout a coffee?” you asked.

Spencer gave a tight-lip smile, “Sure.”

You made Spencer his coffee and watched as he almost emptied your sugar jar. You poured yourself a glass of wine before sitting down on your plush couch, patting the spot next to you for Spencer. He sat down next to you, taking a sip of his sugar drink. He looked positively adorable drinking coffee from your Kirby mug.

“You should tell me about your recent case,” you said, tucking your legs under your butt, giving Spencer your undivided attention.

“...You want to hear about that?” he asked, brows furrowed.

“Duh, of course,” you retorted. “I like listening to you talk, Spencer.”

Spencer’s heart quickened at your genuine words, making him beam internally and his brain turn to mush. Spencer proceeded to tell you about the BAU’s most recent case, a string of seemingly unrelated murders of college students at house parties. Your heart leapt to your throat when Spencer told you how the UnSub started shooting at him and Emily before he was arrested.

“If you get shot, I’ll be so mad,” you told him after he finished his story.

“Okay, I’ll try not to get shot,” Spencer grinned, “so you won’t get mad.”

“Correct answer,” you nodded, downing the last of your wine. Spencer watched you as you stretched your arms over your head, a yawn pulling from your wine-stained lips. His eyes darted to your blue tank top, one of the thin straps falling off your shoulder. Your apartment was cold and your nipples pressed against the thin fabric of your top.

Spencer reached a hand over, gently lifting the strap of your top back over your shoulder, his warm hands making the hairs on your skin prickle. You glanced up at Spencer as he retracted his hand, quickling reaching your own hand out to grab his wrist.

Spencer stared at you with wide eyes, so beautiful and brown.

“Do you… want to see?” You asked quietly, your voice low.

Spencer looked at you, unsure of what you meant, “See what?”

You smiled, “My piercings,” you clarified.

Spencer felt like he exploded. His cheeks went red at the idea of seeing your breasts and the tiny intimate piercing he had only seen through your shirt and in his mind late at night. Sure, he had seen breasts before but he had never seen yours and that’s what made him nervous.

“I know you must be curious,” you said after Spencer didn’t reply. Spencer opened his mouth, attempting to form a single coherent thought. “Earth to Spencer?” you sang softly.

“I, uhm-”

“You don’t want to?” You asked.

“No, I do!” He quickly said before the weight of what he said hit him, “Wait, no… Y/N, I like you and I don’t want you to think that I’m only here to see… that,” he gestured vaguely.

You grabbed his hand gently, leaning over to kiss his cheek softly, “I like you too, Spence,” you muttered, his eyes finally meeting yours, “and I don’t think that you’re only here for that, trust me, guys have before and you’re not them.”

Spencer felt jealousy at the thought of other men seeing such an intimate part of you nag at the back of his mind. You watched his expression change, knowing his big genius brain was in overdrive. You reached a hand up to cup his face gently, bringing his attention back to you.

“Focus here, sweetie,” you whispered with a smile.

“Sorry,” Spencer whispered back.

“I don’t have to show you if it makes you uncomfortable-”

“I am curious,” Spencer interrupted, his voice nervous and quiet. You let out an airy laugh at his sweetness and let go of his face, sitting up straight.

Spencer swallowed the painful lump in his throat as you crossed your arms, fingers grasping the hem of your tank top. His eyes never left yours as you lifted the fabric over your heart, your breasts fully on display for him to see.

It took all of Spencer’s courage to glance down.

And god you were perfect.

Your breasts were smooth and soft, your nipples hard against the chilly air of your apartment. If Spencer were any less respectable, he would be drooling. His eyes stared at the gold jewellery threaded through your hard nipples. He had never seen anything quite as attractive as this and he was sure that nipple piercings were the single greatest thing to ever exist.

“...You’re giving me the wrong idea, Spence,” you chuckled after he stayed quiet for several minutes, simply admiring your beauty.

“I-I’m sorry,” he quickly said, “You’re just…”

“Bit weird, you think?”

“Perfect,” he said, looking up at you again. “You’re just… perfect.”

A small smile graced your lips, “Do you… want to touch?”

“I-I’m not very good at… any of this,” Spencer quickly replied, all he wanted to do was impress you and this was sending him spiralling.

“I don’t care about that, Spencer,” you grabbed his hand, “I like you, I trust you and I want it if you do.”

Spencer kept his eyes on you, “I… Yes. I want to.” He let you guide his hand to your breast. His hand was warm and large, cupping the soft plush skin gently. His breath hitched in his throat as he felt your soft skin, curious and nimble fingers exploring your skin. His thumb came up to touch the cool metal of your piercing, your breath catching in your throat at the feeling, “Sorry,” he quickly said, pulling his hand away.

“No, no, it’s okay… they’re just sensitive. An added perk of nipple piercings,” you replied. Spencer nodded, taking a mental note as his hand reached back out to touch your skin again.

You wrapped your hand gently around his wrist, catching his attention. Spencer’s beautiful eyes stared into yours and you lost it. Your hands reached out, pulling him in by his tie to plant a hard kiss against his lips. Spencer’s hand cupped the side of your neck, tilting your head back to kiss you deeper. Your hands came to hold the back of his head, fingers tangling in his soft hair.

He pulled away to breathe, thumb stroking over your cheek, “are you okay with this?” he whispered slowly.

“Are you?”

“Yes.”

“Then so am I.”

That was all the encouragement Spencer needed to kiss you again, pulling you closer until you swung one of your legs over his thighs, straddling his waist as you kissed him. You tasted slightly of wine and sweetness, the smell of your perfume sending him dizzy. Spencer’s hands came down to rest on your waist, his thumbs resting against your ribs.

“You want to keep going?” You asked breathlessly against his lips.

“I don’t want to stop,” Spencer replied just as breathlessly, pressing a kiss to the underside of your jaw. You whined softly as one of his hands reached up to grasp your breast again, the pad of his thumb rubbing against your pert nipple.

“Spencer,” you whined, your hands grasping at the hair on the back of his neck. He planted a kiss on the column of your throat, then another to the small divot of your collarbone, and another to your sternum. His fingers gently pinched your nipple, making you whine softly. “Not good at this, my ass,” you breathed.

“I have an IQ of 187,” Spencer retorted, “I remember a lot.”

“Clearly,” you replied, lifting his head back up to kiss him again.

a/n: i hope everyone is okay with the lack of smut, i just want everyone to feel comfy (i'll totally write it in a future chapter ;) if you want tho)

taglist: @crazycat-ladys-blog @cillsnostalgia @secretly-tumb1r @33-81 @elissanatok @outrunangelss @cultish-corner @666-gothic-bat-666 @evvy96 @littlemarvelstan8 @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @meg-black

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #spencer #dr reid #dr spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #cm spencer #cm spencer reid #i want a boyfriend so bad #give me a chance spencer

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bloomries · 1 year ago

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y-you're too close!

includes : lucifer, mammon, leviathan, satan, asmodeus, beelzebub, and belphegor.

summary : they get a little too close to your face— and how are you supposed to ignore their mesmerizing eyes or kissable lips?

warnings : gn! reader. kissing (lucifer, satan, belphegor).

LUCIFER

Lucifer had, of course, went to visit you- and you just so happened to be in an empty classroom at the time. He found you rather easily, almost having a sixth sense for your presence. Standing behind you, he watched as read some words from a textbook before writing down an answer.

He then leans down to whisper in your ear, to teasingly praise you for your hardwork, when you turn your head to the side at just that moment— your lips brushing over his.

"L- Lucifer!?" You squeak, before falling out your seat from trying to pull back much too fast. His eyes widen, and he swiftly catches you before you can cause too much of a commotion.

"Are you alright?" He holds back a laugh, meanwhile you're trying to not have your heart explode.

"I'm fine- I just- you were- why were you so close!?" You manage to get out as he puts you back in place, your homework long forgotten by now. He tries to hide the quirk of his lip, but you see it and know he's preparing to tease you.

"Well, I wasn't expecting you to turn your head and try to kiss me." He says, touching his lips and shaking his head. "You must conduct yourself in a more respectful manner."

"You know I wasn't trying to- you just snuck up on me!" Lucifer frowns, still putting on an act special to you. He'd never act in such a silly manner to anyone else.

"But you still kissed me. You'll have to be held accountable." You groan, looking up at him with a dismal expression. You make him almost take pity on you, but then again he was never known as merciful.

"And how do you suppose I make up for my mistakes?"

"Hmm, perhaps kissing me again? On purpose this time, of course."

MAMMON

"Mammon, knock it off," You groan, pushing him away from you. He had been bothering you for the better half of the day, clinging on to you. You don't normally mind, but Mammon also doesn't normally poke your sides and pinch your thighs.

"Noo," He whines, and this naturally leads into you two play wrestling, Mammon ending up with his face perhaps a little too close to yours when he pins you down against the bed. Your eyes widen when you realize just how close he is.

"Hey, let up." You struggle in his grip and he huffs, getting all smug.

"No way. I won fair 'nd squa...re.... ah," That's when Mammon realized just how close to your face he was. "Uh..." He doesn't pull away from you, though his grip loosens. Now you're both messes. Mammon's hot in the face, and you're trying hard to ignore how sweaty your palms have grown.

After a few seconds on bashful staring at each other, Mammon finally pulls away and lets out a shaky loud laugh. "Ha, well, I won. So... I get to stay."

You're still too flustered to deny him, so you just nod wordlessly. However, the tension in the air is thick, and Mammon is like a statue from how he barely moves.

Both of you painfully aware of the obvious affections you two have been showing nonstop over the last few months, but none of it being really faced until just now- when you two were basically a inch away from kissing.

"Should we, uhm, y'know, talk... about what just-"

"I just remembered I have to do, uh, dishes!" Mammon stood up abruptly. "I- I'll talk to ya later!" Oh, this is definitely going to cause a few awkward days in the House of Lamentation.

LEVIATHAN

Leviathan and you had been up for hours on the new game he got, collecting items, ravaging villages, defeating enemies, and it all lead to now— the final boss. Through sweat, blood, and tears you two managed to defeat the final boss in a total of four minutes and fifty six seconds.

"Y- Yes!" You both shouted, cheering and jumping up from your seats, clinging on to each other with damn near tear in your eyes. "Yes! We did it!" Levi cried, squeezing you tightly.

You laugh with joy, pulling away from the hug only to be met face-to-face with Levi.

"Didn't doubt us for a second," You smile, a flirty lilt in your tone that has Levi sudden very conscious on how close you two are. Your eyes flicker down to his lips and he gasps- were you- no, no way! he was a gross otaku! you must be mistaken! yes, that's it!

And thus, Levi is quick to push your face away and accidentally push you back into your gaming chair. "Ow," you pout, and Levi gasps once more.

"S- Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay, Levi, really," You chuckle, and he awkwardly laughs with you. He sits down back in his seat, letting the end music play as he messes with the hem of his shirt.

"I thought, I thought you were going to kiss me for a second," He admits bashfully, chuckling as if that was impossible. You quirk a brow, leaning back in your seat and eyeing him.

"I was."

"Haha, yeah exactly you weren't- wait, what!?"

"I said, I was. I was going to kiss you, Levi." You push yourself forward, your face once again impossibly close to his and he chokes on his own breath before squeezing his eyes shut, lips puckering forward a little.

You press a finger to his lips, and he peaks an eye open- disappointed. "Aw, too bad you missed your chance today, how about you try again tomorrow?" Ah, he most definitely would- if he didn't talk himself down by then!

SATAN

"Wait, so, forward, right- uhm, oh!" You had asked Satan to teach you how to dance upon getting the invitation to Diavolo's upcoming ball. Apparently demons love ballroom dancing. However, in your attempt to learn, you've come to realize that you're dancing skills are possibly a little rusty.

"Sorry," You chuckle, you had tripped over your own feet for the umpteenth time, but at least it was Satan's? You sigh, looking up at him as he looks down at you, and oh. Oh wow.

It was quiet, except for the classical music playing softly in the background. Your heart is racing, and you fear that in your close proximity he might be able to feel it. He fears the same, his grasp on you tightening. He has that charming smile resting on his features, despite the storm in his mind!

How desperately you want to kiss him- and had his eyes always been so green?

Your certain your cheeks are on fire, and you want so badly for the ground to swallow you up. You can't form any words, just staring like a lovesick fool- and Satan is doing no better. He's at a loss for words, truly. How could he even begin to form a sentence worth interrupting this moment?

Then, a book falls to the ground with a loud thud- a mischievous tabby meowing and stretching somewhere. You both pull away, Satan's cheeks growing a rosy color as he clears his throat.

"Maybe we should take a break? I'll... I'll go get us some waters," You say, about to leave, however Satan can't help himself and pulls you by the waist towards him.

"Please forgive me," He whispers, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"Kiss m-" With that, he kisses you deeply. A kiss that certainly will make itself into your dance routine with Satan at the ball next week.

ASMODEUS

"What do you think?" Asmo asks, scooting closer to you, showing off the new look he was attempting- and obviously he was nailing it. He looked perfect, but that wasn't unusual in his case.

"Pretty as always," You say, not really looking at him. He was always showing off looks that were amazing, so you already knew that it was perfect. He whines, shimmying closer to you.

"You're not looking!" He pouts, and you sigh, turning your head abruptly- not expecting him to be so close. Oh. He did look very pretty. And now your cheeks are warm. "Thank you! So, how does it look?" He asks, as if the close proximity wasn't bothering him.

"You look nice- good- you look... good..." He frowns. Well good wasn't good enough. He pulls back and checks in the mirror, but finds not a single product out of place. He whips back around towards you, getting even closer to your face.

"Just good?"

"You look beautiful," You say, and he blinks in shock at your earnestness. He's glad the make up is covering up the blush that surely spreads on his cheeks.

"Oh my, are you falling for my good looks?" His teasing comment ruins the moment, and you scoff, shaking your head as you turn to look back at your phone.

"You wish, princess." You say, pushing him away by the shoulder. You ignore the heart palpitations as you scroll through your DDD.

BEELZEBUB

"Oh, Beel, you got something right there..." You say, pointing to your cheek to where Beelzebub had some sauce. Beel looks down at the food in his hands- both hands were pretty occupied, so he leaned in for you to wipe it away for him.

"W- What?-" It seems he underestimated how small the table was, though, as he leaned in way too close! Face hot, you lift a shaky hand to wipe away the sauce with a napkin and then he shoots you the biggest, most kissable grin in the world.

"Thanks!" He chuckles, before leaning back and taking another bite of his food. You can only stare at the table now though, lest you wish to continue your rather romantic thoughts.

Beel notices this, and once again leans in close— Damn it, is he trying to give you a heart attack!? He furrows his brows as he inspects you, before frowning. Shit, did he realize that you were having definitely not friendly thoughts?

"Are you okay? You look a lil' sick." He says, leaning back. You let a silent breath of relief before nodding.

"I'm fine, just... just a little hot, that's all." And technically, you weren't lying.

BELPHEGOR

"Shuddup," Belphegor groans, rolling over on to his side to face you, before grabbing your waist and pulling you into him. You gasp, not from the action- honestly, this is a rather typical evening with Belphegor (he claims he "sleeps better" when you're near him) but you gasp due to how close your face is to his.

Usually you land near his chest or vise versa, but this face-to-face view was definitely making you grow quiet. Belphegor was pleased with this, before he realized it took quite a lot to usually shut you up. He peaks an eye open with a frown.

"What's your deal?" When you don't respond and instead try to wiggle out of his arms, he tightens his grip and gets even closer. "Hm? Trying to get away?"

"Yes! Let me gooo!"

"Nah," He grins, realizing what's happening. "I think you don't really want me to let you go anyways, right? You wanna stare at my face longer? Wanna kiiisss meeee?" You groan, wishing to strangle the annoying demon. He laughs when you don't deny him.

"I knew it," He flutters his lashes close and pouts his lips out a little, trying to appear 'pretty' or... something? You just shake your head, done with his teasing. Grabbing his collar, you admire his natural beauty for a second— after all, who knows when you'll be so close to his face again— before catching him off guard with a kiss

Letting go of you out of shock, you're quick to run away, leaving Belphegor in a stunned, blushing mess. Stupid humans...~

#obey me x reader #obey me imagines #obey me headcanons #om x reader #om imagines #om headcanons #omswd x reader #omswd imagines #omswd headcanons #obey me fluff #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #leviathan x reader #satan x reader #asmodeus x reader #beelzebub x reader #belphegor x reader

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kings-highway · 5 months ago

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some safe-for-work headcanons regarding how they might of gone about having sex for the first time for some of my favouritr haikyuu ships:

daisuga: look you know these bitches had it scheduled. not like a meticulous planned thing, but it was definitely something they knew was going to happen in advance. Like they talked about it, agreed they both wanted it, and then 3 weeks later Suga's parents go away for the weekend and they know like a solid week in advance that their "hang out" on Saturday evening is basically exclusively so they can have sex. They're very prepared. This also probably makes that week of training super annoying for the team bc they cant figure out why their captains are being SO overly giggly like you are seventeen/eighteen year old men wtf is going on.

iwaoi: i've always thought they were probably way more nervous than any of their friends assumed and definitely did not have sex as early as people thought. like mattsun and makki both constantly tease them in a way that insinuates they're actively having sex but they probably didnt actually do it until like... the last few months of high school. They were both just nervous! Iwa was very afraid of rushing things and doing it "wrong," and Oikawa wasnt even sure what doing it "right" would be so they had like 6 false-starts before they actually managed it.

ushiten: dorm living is not condusive to intimacy so when for the first time in like 8 months since they started dating that they have a confirmed evening with a locked dorm alone they end up making out for just a crazy amount of time. Tendou is too nervous to actually move anything forward because he's too anxious over the possibility of rejection but he keeps making these weird half-insinuations like "haha I cant believe nobody's going to be back for another four hours... we could do anything and get away with it... isnt that so funny... like nobody would know if we were making out or having sex or just reading a book... haha... isnt that crazy... me and you..." and he's all weird and twitchy about it until Ushijima tells him he doesn't think the idea of them having sex is crazy at all and then it is on immediately.

kuroken: highkey, kuroo probably lays out like a whole romantic, corny ass evening with candles and rose petals and is prepared to have a whole long conversation about being "ready" and Kenma just sort of rolls his eyes and is like "have you finished talking? this is Too Much. I need you to understand this is Too Much. Oh my god I love you but WOW." (it works anyway and Kenma is sufficient wooed).

tsukkiyama: this one might be a little out there but I genuinely think they're the most likely to have it happen by accident, or in a spontaneous moment of opportunity. Like they both intend to just take advantage of the empty house with only a bit of making out and then suddenly they're losing their clothes and it's like "we'll have a conversation about it tomorrow, im sure."

kagehina: okay this one is more stupid but I imagine after they've been dating a while Hinata is like "you know what, im ready to take the next step" but Kageyama cannot read ppl so Hinata's somewhat obvious attempts at seduction go entirely over his head, and Hinata is getting increasingly frustrated and dramatic and trying really really hard to get Kageyama to realize what he wants and it ends up causing a fight between them because Kageyama thinks Hinata is being weird and Hinata thinks Kageyama is being intentionally distant and eventually Kageyama blows up and is like "Oh my god if you want to break up or something just say so!!!" and Hinata is like "Oh my GOD I dont want to break up with you I want to have sex with you!!!" and of course that shuts everyone up and unfortunately Yachi is probably also there and wants to die.

#haikyuu ships #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu ship headcanons #daisuga #iwaoi #ushiten #kuroken #tsukkiyama #kagehina

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puckinghischier · 5 months ago

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Fakers

Jack Hughes x fem!reader

summary: reader needs jack to be her fake boyfriend, and it leads to something very not fake

notes: hello!! it’s literally 2am and i just finished this, so needless to say it’s unedited, but i love this fic so much. i combined two different requests for it and i had so much fun with it. i hope you enjoy!! happy reading!! 🫶🏼

also i’m starting a tag list in the comments, so let me know if you’d like to be added!! 🫡

request: from my 400 follower celly - You owe me.” “I owe you $20 not a day of pretending to be your partner to get your parents off your back” & “A realizing that they have feelings for B when they see them with someone else”

[5.4k]

“Jack! Please tell me you’re home. It’s an emergency!” you frantically slam his apartment door shut.

Searching the large space for any signs of life, you beg for him to be home.

“Jack! C’mon! It’s urgent!” you yell out, walking down the hallway towards his bedroom.

You twist the knob of the closed door, finding it locked. Huffing, you start beating your fist against the wood.

“Open up! I know you’re in there!”

You continue your assault on the door, stopping only when the door opens and your fist meets air. You step back in surprise, nearly hitting Jack square in his bare chest.

A soaking wet, shirtless Jack stands in front of you with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“God, what took you so long? I texted you SOS on my way over here,” you barreled past him, walking into his bedroom.

“Oh, I’m sorry, it’s not like I just had a grueling three-hour practice or anything. God forbid I take a hot shower afterwards,” Jack throws his hands up in the air, watching you walk straight for his closet.

You and jack had been friends since the second you moved to Jersey, the sassy brunette being just what you needed to make you feel at home in the unfamiliar state.

As you were moving in down the hall, Jack had half of the team over at his apartment watching game film in preparation for a week of road games.

Him and few teammates walked out into the hallway to investigate the loud bangs they kept hearing, watching you try to squeeze a bookshelf into your apartment that was three times the size of the doorway.

An hour later you had a disassembled bookshelf and four very attractive men in your living room.

Jack had recruited some of his teammates, as you later learned, to help you put the bookshelf back together.

You apologized for interrupting their plans, the rest of Jack’s teammates still in his apartment, and insisted they go back to their friends. You told them you could handle putting back together a bookshelf, even though you had absolutely no idea what you were doing.

They waved off your concerns, telling you they needed to help you finish what they started.

After the bookshelf was put together and in place, Jack invited you over to his apartment, deciding they had watched enough film for that night, using the incentive of pizza to lure you. You would’ve objected, seeing as he invited you into an apartment full of strange men, but the pang of hunger in your stomach threw all caution to the wind, leading your feet three doors down and into the strange apartment.

You gained a whole group of friends that night, not knowing until a week later your new friends were Jersey’s own professional hockey team.

Jack and Luke helped you finish the rest of your move in, spending more and more time with your new neighbors as the days went on. You added weekly take out dinners into your schedules and alternating hockey watch parties in each other’s apartments, the brothers insisting you need to learn to love the game.

You can’t deny the fact that you started developing feelings for the middle Hughes pretty quickly, his fun energy and magnetic personality roping you in. The nature of your friendship was extremely laid back, the two of you bickering nearly as much as you made the other laugh. Luke often said the two of you either act like an old married couple or newlyweds that already resent each other.

It didn’t take long for you to figure out, however, that Jack was too focused on living the hockey lifestyle to settle down anytime soon. You noticed the flow of girls in and out of his apartment, having met a few on their way out in the mornings on your way to work.

Attempting to push your feelings to the back of your mind, you continued spending time with the rowdy athletes. A small part of you still held out hope, especially after Jack gave you a key to their apartment, telling you he was tired of having to get the door every time you decided you wanted to come over.

Which is exactly how you were able to enter his apartment now, in your desperate time of need.

You knew your parents were going to visit you once you had settled in. The piece of information they left out, though, was that they scheduled a dinner with the lawyer son of one of your dad’s coworkers that also happens to live in the city.

Now, sifting through his closet in search of an outfit appropriate for the high-end restaurant your parents reserved for tonight, you worry about Jack’s reaction to your – and now his – predicament.

“Jack, don’t you own anything that isn’t designer? I don’t want my parents to think you’re a douche throwing his money in everyone’s face,” you slide each Tom Ford, Armani, and his one Gucci suit to the side.

Jack, still standing with his hand on his open door, starts walking over to you, crossing his arms.

“So, you not only barge into my apartment unexpectedly and interrupt my shower, but you’re now criticizing my formal wear?” he asks before realization shows on his face. “Wait, what do you mean your parents? And why are you so dressed up?” he suddenly notices your floor-length, black formal dress and full face of make-up.

You turn to face him slowly, an overexaggerated, nervous smile on your face.

“Well…you’re…meetingmyparentstonight,” you mumble out, running your words together.

“Run that back one more time?” Jack asks you, eyes widening.

“You’re meeting my parents tonight,” you say at a normal pace this time, doing small jazz hands.

Groaning, Jack turns away from you, placing his hands on the top of his head as he paces.

“What did you do?” he asks, still pacing, knowing how you are and that you’re only ever this anxious about stuff when there’s a reason.

“Okay, so don’t get mad,” you start, placing your hands out in front of you as if you’re calming down a wild animal.

“Oh, great, that’s always followed by good news,” Jack rolls his eyes, stopping to stand in front of you.

“I might have, maybe, just a little bit…told my parents that you were my boyfriend,” you rush out again, closing your eyes and wincing.

Jack doesn’t respond, not making a single sound. You slowly open one eye, waiting for him to start scolding you. You see him standing there, wide eyes and frozen.

“You told…parents…your boyfriend?” his broken sentence amuses you, but you have to hold in the laugh, figuring laughing at him wouldn’t do you any favors right now.

“Yes,” you confirm, causing Jack to close his eyes and inhale, his hand flying up to press against his forehead. “But! They’re trying to set me up on a blind date with one of my dad’s stuck-up coworker’s sons. You know I told them I’d never date a lawyer,” you explain, stepping closer to Jack, testing the waters. “Plus, I hate being set up, Jack. One of my dating requirements is friends first, date later.”

“Why?” Jack now pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why in the hell would you tell your parents I’m your boyfriend? I haven’t dated in someone in…I don’t know, three years? This should’ve been a Luke job.”

“Because you’re my best friend. It wouldn’t have been believable with Luke because I don’t know him as well as I know you,” you tell him, watching him open his mouth to argue. “Plus, you owe me.”

Jack scoffs. “Oh, I owe you, huh? Do tell, what for?”

“When I bought your sushi last week because you forgot your wallet at the rink when I met you out for lunch.”

Jack rolls his eyes. “Are you serious? I owe you $20, not a day of pretending to be your boyfriend to get your parents off your back!”

“But…a day of pretending to be my boyfriend can pay your $20 debt,” you smile and tilt your head, batting your eyelashes.

Jack mulls the idea over in his head for a few moments, deciding on if he’s going to help you or not. You continue batting your eyelashes and giving Jack your trademark puppy dog eyes.

“Fine…give me twenty minutes and I’ll be ready,” he grumbles, shoulders deflating a little.

“Yes! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” you squeal, doing a happy jump and running over to hug him.

You realize a second too late he’s still damp and very naked, jumping back and apologizing mere seconds after you made contact with his bare skin.

“I’ll go wait in your living room,” you say, turning and heading towards his door.

“I’m wearing the Gucci, by the way,” he calls out as you reach the doorway.

“Please, at least wear the Armani so they think you’re poor rich, not rich rich,” you hear him laugh as you shut his door.

Just as Jack told you, twenty minutes later you’re in his car on the way to some rooftop restaurant your parents reserved for your ‘family’ dinner.

“So, what’s our story?” Jack asks, breaking the silence.

“Our story?” you repeat, confused.

“Yeah, our story. Like, what was the magical moment we realized we were actually more than friends and were head over heels with one another?” he asks, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You look over at him, a small smirk on his lips.

“Do you seriously think I went into that much detail when I stuttered out ‘oh…I uhh…forgot to tell you, Jack and I are dating now!’ when my mother mentioned Ben was joining us for dinner?”

“Well, I wouldn’t put it past you.”

You scoff at him, leaning back in your seat and crossing your arms.

“We don’t have a story. Mom didn’t ask questions so I didn’t offer any,” you respond, looking over at him.

“Wait, she didn’t ask any questions? What was her response?” he asked you, glancing over at you every few seconds.

“No? She just said it was great and to invite you to dinner too, maybe you and Ben would get along,” Jack’s furrowed brow confusing you.

“Shit, Y/N, she doesn’t believe you,” he sits up straight.

“She doesn’t?”

“No, she doesn’t. If she believed you then she would have told Ben not to come. If she believed you, she would have grilled you with questions and squealed with excitement. She wouldn’t have just accepted the answer and told you to bring me along like some pet,” you note the worry in his tone.

Thinking about your mother’s reaction, you remember the uninterested tone she used when telling you how great it was you were with Jack. The lack of enthusiasm definitely uncharacteristic from your mom. You had just assumed she was shocked, not that she didn’t believe you.

“Holy shit you’re right! She didn’t believe me. What are we gonna do?” you reach down the hand resting in your lap and start picking your thumb nail on again, extremely worried they’ll see through your bullshit the second you sit down at the table.

Jack notices the anxious habit of yours, reaching over and placing his hand over your own, effectively stopping your movements.

“We give them the best damn performance of our lives.”

———————————————————————————

As soon as you walk onto the open rooftop, you think you should’ve let Jack wear his Gucci suit.

The dimly lit space is full of people in expensive looking dresses and crisp, clean suits.

You suddenly feel very underdressed.

The hostess leads you over to a table in the corner, you and Jack being the last to arrive.

Jack’s hand is held tightly in yours, the small pep talk he gave you in the elevator already forgotten.

“Oh, Y/N! You’re here!” you hear your mother’s voice as you approach the table, breaking you out of your wardrobe anxieties.

You give a tight-lipped smile, keeping yourself pressed against Jack’s side.

“Well, don’t just stand there, give me a hug!” she exclaims, standing from her seat, pulling you into a bone crushing hug.

You reciprocate her actions, placing your hands on her back.

“Honey, you look so good. I hope this place has been kind to you,” she places her hands on your face, a smile beaming back at you.

You nod at her. “Yeah, I love it here so far.”

She lets you go, her smile never fading.

“Alright, where’s the hug for your old man?” you hear your dad speak from somewhere behind you, turning to see him walking towards you with open arms.

Sinking into his hug, you let yourself enjoy the feeling. Getting to spend time with your dad is a rarity, considering he’s part of a big law-firm back home. He was always working late and missing holidays when you were a kid, your experience with him why you always swore you’d never marry a lawyer like your mother did.

“I missed you, Dad,” you tell him honestly, pulling back from his embrace.

“I missed you more, kiddo,” he pats your cheek, stepping away to take his seat at the table once again.

You hear Jack clear his throat behind you, reminding him that you need to introduce him.

“Oh! Mom, Dad,” you turn back and reach your hand out towards Jack, “this is Jack, the neighbor I’ve been telling you about.” Jack squeezes you hand, reminding you he’s your boyfriend tonight, not your neighbor. “Well…I guess I need to introduce him as my boyfriend now, cause we’re dating!” you say a little too enthusiastically, lifting your intertwined hands for everyone to see.

Jack chuckles, bringing his free hand over to push your joined hands down.

“Hi, I’m Jack, Y/N’s neighbor boyfriend,” he reaches over to shake your dad’s hand.

You notice your mom’s skeptical smile, standing to give Jack a short, half hug.

As you scan the area, trying to find anything else to focus on other than your lack of being able to play it cool, you notice the third body at the table.

You look at the man, his jet black, scruffy hair not at all what you were expecting. He was extremely handsome, you had to give him that. His blue eyes stood out against the dark setting, his black dress shirt under his black suit jacket causing them to stand out even more.

“Well, since introductions are being made, this is Ben, Jim’s boy. He works at a firm just a few miles away, actually,” your dad beams as Ben stands, walking around the table to give Jack’s hand a firm shake.

They exchange a short greeting before Ben makes his way over to you, grabbing your hand and kissing your knuckles, taking you by surprise.

“Pleasure to meet you…” he trails off, keeping eye contact as he raises back up into a standing position. “Both of you,” he adds as an afterthought, letting go of your hand and glancing at Jack.

“Yeah…you too,” Jack’s tone is laced with an emotion you can’t quite pick up on, but the glare he’s sending Ben is extremely noticeable.

As everyone takes their seats again, Jack scoots your chair out for you before sitting in the chair beside of you, taking your hand in his and resting them on the table.

Small talk is exchanged about Jack’s job, a disapproving nod from your father, your mother asking questions about what he plans to do after his career is over, making sure to throw in digs about how young hockey players are required to retire and the fact that contract money runs out fast with the lifestyle athletes live.

Jack handles them in stride, talking about how he wants to get into coaching once his career comes to an end, but he wants to play hockey for as long as he’s physically able. He also informed your parents that his mother instilled in him how to budget, making sure his necessities are always paid before anything else gets purchased, including a retirement fund.

The conversation then shifts to you and your new job, your mother filling Ben in with side comments the whole time about how you graduated with honors and was offered a big city job right out of college. Ben looked at you the entire time you were talking, seeming genuinely interested in what you were sharing.

Once the conversation shifts to Ben, that’s when the dinner starts going south.

“Ben is in line to become a partner at his firm very soon. It’s all his father talks about at work anymore,” your dad informs the table, laughing and slapping a hand to Ben’s shoulder.

“Well, there’s a few other guys in the running, I’m not a shoo-in yet,” Ben responds, trying to knock down his praise a bit.

“Oh, don’t be so modest, Ben, our Y/N here loves an overachiever, isn’t that right, darling?” your mom looks over to you.

You don’t know what to say to her, stunned that she would be so blatantly obvious about her intentions in front of Ben like this.

“I…well…Yeah, I guess,” you stutter out, not sure how to respond to your mother’s words.

“Do you excel in your field, Jack?” your mom questions your fake boyfriend of the night.

He looks up from his food, not entirely sure how to handle the question. Does he tell them the truth and risk sounding like a gloating asshole, or does he play the modest card and confirm your parent’s suspicions that he’s less than?

“Jack was team captain of team USA! And he’s an alternate captain for the Devils now! He’s also one of the team’s top point scorers,” you ramble out facts about Jack’s hockey career, sensing his hesitation.

Your father’s brows shoot up in surprise.

“Way to go man, sounds awesome,” Ben sounds genuinely impressed.

“That’s something to be proud of,” is all your mother responds.

You look over at Jack in apology, the flush of his cheeks hidden by the dark surroundings.

“Jack was also drafted number one overall in the NHL draft when he was only eighteen. Isn’t that crazy?” you continue, not knowing how to stop the information rolling from your mouth.

“Good for you, son,” your dad says through chewing his food, earning a glare from your mother.

Jack chuckles out a thanks, kicking your foot under the table.

“Always my biggest fan, huh babe?” Jack looks over at you, the look in his eyes telling you to stop, you’re being obvious again.

“Well…it’s not just your good looks that won me over,” you attempt a joke, but it didn’t land very well.

Jack winces at how that sounded.

Realizing what you just said, with the current scrutiny surrounding Jack’s choice of career, you mentally palm your forehead.

“I need to use the restroom, excuse me,” you all but run away from the table.

You make your way to the small bathroom, collecting yourself and telling yourself you don’t have that long left of this torturous dinner.

When you exit the bathroom, you see Ben standing there, waiting for you to come out.

“So…is now a good time to tell you that I know you and Jack aren’t dating?” he asks you, an amused smile on his face.

Your body turns cold, every muscle frozen in place. How does he know? Has your act really been that bad?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tell him, laughing nervously.

“Listen, you don’t have to hide it from me. I’m not here because I want to be set up with you. I’m here because I need my dad to still think I’m single,” he surprises you.

“Wait, you have a girlfriend?” you ask him, shock evident in your voice.

“Boyfriend, actually. But haven’t really broke that part to my parents yet.”

Your jaw drops, not believing that your parents are unknowingly trying to set you up with a gay man.

“Holy shit,” you start laughing, unable to hide stop your hand from shooting out to grip Ben’s arm. “I promise I’m not laughing because you’re gay. I’m laughing because my parents would die if they figured out the man they’re trying to set me up doesn’t even like girls.” You want to go over there and scream this piece of information into their faces, but know it’s not your place to out Ben.

“I hate when they try to set me up with people, and I thought it would stop since I moved away, but when they told me you were coming to dinner tonight I panicked and told them I was dating Jack because I didn’t want to have to dodge phone calls and ignore texts, again,” you bring your hand up to wipe the tears out of your eyes. “Who would’ve thought I didn’t even have to worry about it because there’s more of a chance you’d be attracted to my fake boyfriend than me.”

Ben laughs with you, allowing you to lean against him.

From the dinner table, Jack can hear your laughter, turning his head to see you leaning on Ben, the two of you being entirely too close for his liking.

“Well, looks like they’re getting along,” your mother tells your father, nodding her head in the direction of you and Ben.

Jack fully turns in his seat, watching how you talk animatedly with Ben, a large grin on your face as he returns it, looking down at you.

Something wicked swirls in Jack’s stomach, not enjoying watching you laugh with someone like you laugh with him.

He thinks back to all the times you’ve been around his apartment, complaining about the latest guy you were trying to meet up with canceling on you and how angry it makes him to see you upset. He thinks about how you always complain to him about dating apps, wishing you could just meet someone naturally, going on and on about having a ‘meet cute’ like your favorite rom coms and wondering why it always makes him think about how cute you looked trying to shove that big ass bookshelf into your apartment. He thinks about the time you brought a date to one of his games, the satisfaction of seeing you in his jersey almost enough to outweigh the sudden burst of anger he felt in the middle of the game, looking up to see his arm around your shoulders, hand resting a little too close to your chest for his comfort.

He thinks about how he’s always fending off his teammates and random men at bars, not trusting their intentions with you. And the looks that he catches Luke giving the two of you when you’re arguing, his favorite activity being getting you worked up, loving how red your ears get when he keeps firing sarcasm back at your anger.

He always assumed these feelings were a general protectiveness of you and enjoyment of being around you, almost like you were his sister, never once entertaining the idea that they could be more than that.

Until now, that is. Until you’re standing there in that dress, possibly the most beautiful he’s ever seen you, leaning all over another man when you asked him to come here with you. You asked him to be your fake boyfriend, not Mr. Big Time Lawyer.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to go make sure my girlfriend is okay,” he tells your parents, dropping his cloth napkin on the table and scooting his chair back.

You’re still laughing with Ben, exchanging stories about the different set-ups your parents have tried on the two of you.

“You know, even though it’s very obvious you’re not dating, I do have to admit, I can see the feelings you two have for each other,” Ben tells you, changing the subject.

“Oh, no, we’re just friends,” you tell him, your cheeks flushing a bit.

Ben gives you a look, rolling his eyes. “Honey, anyone within a three-mile radius can see that that boy is smitten with you, even if he doesn’t know it yet.”

You look over at Jack who’s looking over at you and Ben.

“I don’t think so,” you shake your head, deciding you can trust Ben. “I mean, I definitely have feelings for him, have for a while, but he’s not the dating type,” you laugh. “Hell, he was worried about having to be my fake boyfriend, considering he hasn’t dated anyone in years. Anyways, the girls I see leaving his apartment most mornings says otherwise.”

“Haven’t you learned men are stupid? Someone usually has to tell them what they’re feeling. Show them what they’re missing out on,” he steps closer to you, the two of you only inches apart now. “Just like right now.”

You cock your head, confused at Ben’s words until you hear footsteps stomping towards you.

“Y/N, babe,” Jack spits out, anger radiating off of him, “can we go somewhere…private to talk?” he puts on a tight smile, watching Ben step back away from you.

“Uh, sure,” you tell him as he grabs your arm, gently leading you over to a secluded corner of the rooftop.

He stands in front of you, running his hands up his face before sweeping them through his hair.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asks, jutting his hand out in the direction you just came from.

“We were just-“

“You were ‘just’ flirting with the man your parents are trying to set you up with in front of their eyes when you brought me here to show them you’re not interested,” he interrupts you, frustration clear in his tone.

“Jack, you don’t understand, Ben is-“

“Perfect for you? Handsome? Your parent’s dream man for you? Better than me?” he cuts you off, his last statement taking you by surprise.

“Jack, where’s this coming from? Ben’s not better than you? What would ever make you think that?” your confusion turns to concern.

“Oh, don’t act all sad and worried now. Not when you were over here getting all close to Ben,” he waves his hands around, disgust lacing his voice as he said Ben’s name, “just mere seconds ago while I was sitting at the table with your parents, watching the whole thing and thinking about how much I love you!” he raises his voice, but not loud enough to disturb the people dining around you.

You’re so shocked at Jack’s words that you step back from him, not believing what you’re hearing.

“Jack, I-“ you start once more, but Jack’s voice cuts you off.

“I know I’m realizing this way too late, but dammit, Y/N, that man,” he points over to Ben, “is not the guy for you. I know I’ve just stood by and watched you try to go on date after date after date with men who weren’t right for you, but I think I was too scared to think about what my feelings meant. I’ve ran off so many men at bars its not even funny. Hell, I’ve told my own teammates you’re off limits, thinking I was just protecting you from getting hurt. But really, all I was doing was being selfish. I was keeping you all to myself while bringing random girls home every couple of nights after having drinks, only to kick them out first thing in the morning when I woke up and had a nasty feeling in my chest,” he pauses, his tone turning from stern to soft as he takes a step towards you.

“I’m realizing that feeling was disgust. Disgust at myself for filling my time with girls that don’t matter, girls that I would never be satisfied with because they weren’t you. I think part of me knew from the second I saw this crazy woman at the end of the hall, trying to push a bookshelf that had to outweigh her by at least a hundred pounds, through the tiny ass door of her apartment. It was confirmed when you agreed to come to my apartment and ate pizza while goofing off with my teammates, instantly clicking with every single one of them. It settled a little deeper when you showed up at my door after I had gotten home from being on the road, demanding we watch Quinn’s hockey game because it was time for you to study hockey. It was made permanent when you showed up to your first Devils game, my name and number on your back, eyes lit up in awe like it was Christmas morning,” he continues, causing tears to sting your eyes as he reaches over to cup your face in his hands.

“I ignored it for all of this time, because I think, deep down, I was scared of losing you. I was scared that you were going to see me as this dumb, jock hockey player that lived down the hall from you and let me down easy. I was scared you’d see how absolutely out of my league you are. I was scared to be vulnerable and admit that I was in love with you, because I couldn’t bear to think that you didn’t love me back,” his face is mere inches from yours. “But I’m tired of ignoring it. Seeing you, laughing with Ben, all pressed up against him like that, thinking that I might have already lost you before I even had the chance to have you, made me realize that I had to try. I had to at least…try,” he finishes, resting his forehead against yours.

The tears are fully streaming down your face at this point, not caring that you’re likely ruining the mascara you spent over fifteen minutes perfecting earlier.

“Jack, you stupid man, just kiss me already,” you whisper out, your breath fanning across his lips.

He smiles, lifting your chin up to press your lips together, sighing happily into the kiss.

You match his smile, making the kiss silly and sloppy, but you don’t care. His lips feel like they were made to fit in-between yours, the softness of them far better than you had imagined.

Pulling back from the kiss, you bring your hands up to rest on his wrists, his hands still holding your face.

“You know, if you had let me speak, I would have saved you the speech and informed you that Ben wasn’t trying to make a move on me, because Ben is gay and has a boyfriend,” Jack pulls back from you, allowing you to see the shocked expression on his face. “We were bonding over the amount of times our parents have tried to set us up with people just like this before, and then he was telling me how in love with each other we were. I was telling him how I definitely was in love with you, but I didn’t believe you were in love with me,” you laugh at Jack, the situation comical now.

“I- he’s gay?” is all Jack responds with.

You throw your head back, laughing at him. “That’s what you took away from what I just said?”

“Sorry, I just, wasn’t expecting it, is all,” he says, moving his hands to your neck, pushing your head back up to look at him.

“Oh, so you were expecting my love confession, then?” you tease him.

“Well, duh, you did ask me to be your fake boyfriend tonight,” Jack moves his hand to pinch your cheek.

“So…are you still? Fake, that is?” you ask him, placing your arms on his shoulders, clasping your hands around the back of his neck.

Jack looks down at you, the expression on his face something entirely new to you, but it’s one you can surely get used to.

“Ehh, I don’t know…ask me again the next time you need a buffer,” he shrugs, smirking at you.

You tug on a piece of his hair, causing him to hiss out.

“Geez, I’m kidding. Of course I’m your real boyfriend now. I gave you a monologue, we’re basically engaged at this point,” he jerks his head a bit, making your hands fall from his hair.

You know it’s a joke, but your cheeks heat at the implication anyways, Jack noticing your lack of response.

“Relax, I was just kidding. That’s at least three more surprise blind date dinners with your parents before we to that. I’ll even pull out a ‘fake’ ring and everything,” he winks, putting air quotes around the word fake.

As Jack enjoys the sound of your laugh, he steals a glance over at the table where your parents sit, surprised at the pleased look on your mom’s face and earning a slight nod from your dad.

He looks back down at you, face scrunched in laughter, thinking about how this night was worth way more than $20.

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fictionalmenxyn · 3 months ago

Text

—𖥞𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞𖥞—

Pairing: frat!rafe x sorority!reader

Warnings: language and nudity (no deep description, just showering together, nothing more)

Summary: after a long day at college, all you wanna do is sleep.

(Rafe is so sweet in this 🤭)

��𐬿𖥞𖥞𖥞𐬿𐬾

Your bedside alarm clock beamed 3:26pm, with its bright white light. You currently lay on your bed, stomach to the mattress. Your AirPod maxs played music as you slept. Wearing your comfy baggy football jersey and sweatpants.

You had been asleep for almost two hours.

Meanwhile Rafe had just finished his football practice. He and his team had worked on game plays and drill for almost four hours. They were versing their rival team in a few days; so their coach wanted them focused and ready.

Rafe was sweaty and in need of some attention from his favourite girl. So he drove over to your sorority house. Parking his black pick up truck out front. He walked over to the front door and knocked. Your friend also roommate, Harley, answered the door “oh hey Rafe, what’s up?” He gave her a small polite smile “hey, is uh, Y/n in??” She smirked and nodded. Stepping aside to let him in, she spoke “she’s up in her room, go ahead.”

Rafe jogged up the stairs and walked down the hall. He was used to them both coming to each others rooms unannounced and never knocking. So he just let himself in, putting his gym bag next to the door. He kicked off his air forces, looking over to you.

Your arms tucked under your pillow, fast asleep. Not a care in the world. He smiled softly at the sight. He walked over and leaned down slightly. He placed a hand on your shoulder and softly shook you a little. You stir awake. Your eyes still shut and you’re still half asleep as you mumble “Brooke…I hmmfucking told you… my notes are on the desk… take ‘em” Rafe chuckled softly. “I’m not Brooke… but I may take those notes, when I need them..”

You turn your head, squinting as your eyes adjust to the light “Rafey??” He nodded “that’s me, princess.” You see he’s in his gym clothes “you done with practice??” He nodded and answered “yeah, gonna use your shower…” you nodded.

He pulled the grey nike gym shirt over his head. Tossing it into your laundry basket. Revealing his tan and toned chest and back. He soon discarded his shorts, leaving him in his black Calvin Kline boxers.

He walked over to the en-suite door, looking over his shoulder, at you. He spoke “you gonna join me, princess??”

You shook your head “hmm don’t wanna get up…” he smirked “oh come on, doll, don’t you wanna spent some time with Rafey?” He knew he’d get you to, especially by the way he phrased it.

You sluggishly get out of your comfy bed. Walking into the en-suite. Taking your clothes off and putting them in the counter for later. You open the glass door, turning on the shower. You step inside after you get Rafe in first, so he can test the water.

As Rafe washes his body, you just stood there. You already had a shower when you got in after your classes; so you didn’t really bother washing all over again. You were there mainly for his company. You gently press your hands on your face, sighing to yourself.

Rafe looked down at you, “what’s wrong, princess?” “‘m so fuckin’ tired.” He opened his arms, bringing you into a hug. He softly rubbed up and down your bare spine. “Aww is my baby tried? Had a long day, baby?” You nodded against his chest. He smiled softly, resting his chin on your head. He noticed your tired and almost exhausted appearance. He knew you had a long day. He kisses your forehead a few times, every so often. “M’sorry, sweet girl, you must be exhausted huh??”

He spoke “aw, baby… once we’re out, how about we have a nap? That sound good??” You nodded and mumbled “thank you, Rafey..” he smiled and kisses the top of your head. He mumbled against your hair “anythin’ for you, my girl..”

Soon after your shower, you were in your clothes from earlier. As Rafe changed into clean boxers that he would keep over at the sorority house. For back up and also a subtly warning for any guy. You didn’t brother asking him way that was a reason. He just did it.

Rafe flopped onto your bed, lying on his stomach. He tucks his arms on top of the pillow. He turned his head and watched you move around your bedroom for a moment. “What’re you looking for, princess?” “My blanket…”

He smiled to himself, one thing he always always found cute about you. Was your blanket. It was a comfort blanket. Red, blue and white checkered blanket. You’ve had it since a child. And although you were a popular, mature and responsible nineteen year old. All of that goes out the window when it comes to that blanket.

You wrapped it around your back. Climbing onto the bed. You lay on Rafe’s back. Your head between his shoulder blades, your legs either side of him.

You feel him turn you both over after some time. You laid on his chest. His arms wrap around you, knowing that comforted you.

He gently rubs your back with one hand as the other rubs circles into your hip. He kissed the top of your head, whispering in your hair “go to sleep, baby… I’ve got you… I’ll be here when you wake…”

You close your eyes, in minutes you were out like a light. He smiled, feeling himself get sleepy, just watching you. He too fell asleep.

Some time later…

Rafe stirred awake. Opening his eyes, he looked down at your nightstand. Seeing your alarm clock read ‘6:37pm’. He looked down at you. Rubbing you back again, just a little firmer, to gently wake you.

You lift your head up a little, rubbing your one eye. He smiles, running his fingers through your hair. “How you feeling, baby? You look better.” You give a tired smile and nod.

“‘m so much better…” he smiled “good to hear…”

“Hey Rafey?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Can we get chick-fil-a?”

He chuckled softly, still playing with your hair “of course, sweet girl, I’ll order you some food. We can eat it while you watch Chicago fire? How does that sound?”

“Sounds like I’m in love…”

He grinned, god… the softie you made him… he honestly loves it… only for you though… his favourite girl.

𐬾𐬿𖥞𖥞𖥞𐬿𐬾

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spider-ghoul · 4 months ago

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Babysitting <3

Percy Jackson X gn!reader (fluff)

In which: a call from Sally Jackson leads you to help with her youngest, and spend the night with her eldest son. Lingering glances and sleepy confessions only to be forgotten by morning.

Warnings: Reader is mentioned to be smaller than Percy once, kissing, none I can think of but as always lmk if there's anything!!

this might be complete shit lmao I finished this at like 3:00 am last night but I wanted to get something out to feed the beasts of this website

~~𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒ 𓆡 ⭒ㅤ𓈒ㅤׂ 🫧~~

At six o'clock on a Friday, normally I'd be rotting in my bed after the week of school. And that was the plan, until Mrs. Jackson mom called.

"Oh- (y/n) I'm so sorry for asking but do you think you could watch Estelle tonight? Me and Paul had a date but Percy was going to the movies with Grover tonight and we-"

"Mrs. Jackson, yeah, it's fine. When do I need to be over?"

"Six is when we're leaving."

"I'll be there at five fifty."

"You're a savior."

This was perfectly fine. Me and Percy were friends and i was the only half-blood who lived around here. I watched Estelle a few times before too. No biggie. Except for the fact I'd been in love with Percy Jackson for...a while.

I mean, he was kinda my friend. But god, he was Percy Jackson.

At five forty, i headed out. I grabbed my backpack, making sure i had the baby sitting essentials for any four year old: nail polish, beads, and my old rainbow loom (i also spent a extra minute making sure my hair looked okay so that if i saw a certain older brother) I figured that and the t.v. would be more than enough to keep us occupied till her bedtime at eight.

I got there right on time (surprisingly), and Sally greeted me with another thank you. She tried to hand over a few bucks cash, but i pushed her hand away.

She rushed out of the door with Paul after a few more (failed) attempts of paying me, leaving me with an excited two four old. And before too long, she had me watching Bluey (Though i do thoroughly enjoy that show), and making bracelets for us.

She watched as i showed her how to bead the string and make sure the letter beads where on the right way, and then she helped me choose colors.

To start i made one with her name in purple and white. She giggled and slide it on her wrist. I started working on a second one, and she told me to tie hers. It was all blue and had me spell out 'Percy' with beads for her.

"Is this for your brother?" She nodded excitedly, "well, we'll give it to him when he get here, okay?"

I got a solid hour with the beads before she got bored, and by the end both of our wrists had a fair share of bracelets littering them, and a small pile of three bracelets for Percy.

I seriously hope she's awake when he gets here, I can imagine the teasing that would come with handing him bracelets and saying, "oh yeah sorry I'm at your house haha baby sitting- oh me and your sister made you bracelets-". Or i could imagine our hands touching causing me to panic. I could imagine a million things actually.

I think this whole crush is really getting out of hand, especially with me becoming his mom's go to sitter now a days.

Estelle broke me from my thoughts with requests to watch 'Nemo', her favorite. We've watched it every time I've babysat. Part of me wonders if Percy likes it too, I mean with the whole sea god thing.

As for her request, I made a bag of microwave popcorn and set her down in front of the TV.

I vaguely remember the opening, and Estelle fell asleep next to me before i dozed off myself.

I woke up a bit later, maybe half an hour? The movie wasn't finished, but Estelle was already fast asleep. I took the liberty of scooping her up and placing her in her own bed before going to clean up the main room.

It wasn't bad, just putting away my beads, and getting the popcorn bowl out of the way. I was tired enough, school was rough this week. I just planted myself back on the couch, finding Nemo not quite finished as I did.

I'm not quite sure when i feel back asleep, just that i did.

I'm also not quite sure when Percy Jackson sat down next to me, but he did.

I woke up, curled around a throw pillow, the end credits were playing. I rolled onto my back, and that's when I saw him.

Maybe i was too tired, or maybe he was just smiling, but i didn't feel all that anxious. At least not like i normally do around the son of the sea god.

"Do you always fall asleep to Nemo or is this a special occasion?"

"Do you always watch me sleep or is this a special occasion...?"

He laughed and my heart fluttered.

"Uhm, sorry your mom had me come over to babysit, I didn't know you'd be home yet." I say awkwardly smiley as i sit up, yawning.

"It's fine, y/n. She texted me, sorry to have you waste a Friday."

"Oh its fine, better than doing nothing. Your sis was an angel, like always." I say, shifting, my shirt bunched up around my waist while I was sleeping. I was also pretty positive my hair was a mess.

"Oh and speaking of my mom- before i forget." He pulled out a twenty, "now I figure you aren't gonna want to take it, but it's sally's orders."

"I'd feel bad, its just a favor. Your mom is always so nice, she patched me up after a monster attack once, this is just me repaying her."

"She did? When?" His eyebrows furrowed together, his eyes filled with concern.

And i felt my face getting hot again.

"A few weeks ago, your house was closer than mine, it's fine." I mutter, looking down.

He sighed, "what happened?" he said, reaching out to put his hand over mine. I short wire for a moment, looking back up at him.

"Just something on my way home from school, it wasn't bad."

After a brief moment of silence, i wanted to crawl out of my skin.

He sighed, "as long as you're fine." he lifted his hand off of mine, though I could still feel his warmth.

I smiled weakly, "oh uh..what time is it?"

"Uh.. ten-ish?"

"I should be getting home." I say, sighing turning away from him.

"It's pretty late, I wouldn't want you to walk back alone."

"It's not far-"

"I'm sure my mom would say the same thing, you know."

I sighed, knowing he was right, "i don't want to intrude."

"Neither me or Sally would care."

"...."

"...can i bribe you to stay with waffles?"

"...yeah you can." I sigh, any of Sally's food was enough to make me do just about anything.

Percy smiled, making my heart melt.

"Great, it'll be like a sleepover. Do you need to borrow a shirt or something?"

"Yeah, that uhm- that would be great." I mutter, pushing myself up off the couch. My neck was sore, who would have guessed that a throw pillow wasn't great for sleeping? I stretch my arms out over my head, yawning again.

"tired?" He chuckles, raising his eyebrow.

"well you did just wake me up-" I resort, rolling my eyes. I always forget how nice Percy is. I always worry about stupid things, but when I'm with him none of it really matters.

"You woke up on your own- I was simply..." He trails off, and I laugh:

"Watching me sleep?"

"What can I say? You looked so.. pretty." He look down at me, and I could swear my heart stops, but I don't look away.

"...Yeah, whatever." I mummer quietly, staring into his eyes and blinking a few times before finally breaking eye contact.

After a short moment, He mumbles something about getting me to bed. I nod quickly, following him to his room, which is surprisingly clean. He digs though his dresser drawers for a moment, pulling out some old band tee, and blue plaid pants. He hands them to me.

"Is this fine for you? might be a big big, just let me know-"

"it's fine. No worries." I say quickly, taking them, making sure to avoid his hands. "Thanks."

He smiles again, and I leave for the bathroom, my heart pounding in my ears. 'pretty'? it's nothing, Percy is just nice like that.

I change into his clothes, the smell of ocean engulfing me as the soft fabric hangs from my body. I can't help but to push my head into my shoulder. It smells like him.

I ball up my jeans and tee shirt, shoving them into my backpack. I slipped out the bathroom once I calmed myself down enough to talk to him again.

I walk up to Percy's door, "Hey, I'm gonna go lay down do you have a blanket or something I can use..?"

His eyebrows furrowed as he looked up at me from where he was laying on his bed, "You don't seriously think I'm making you sleep on the couch-?"

"Well I kinda assumed..?"

"Get over here you dork." He said, scooting over on his bed, "Plenty of room- you don't mind, do you?"

Part of me lit on fire, and part of me was desperate to put it out. My ears got hot, but I managed to nod.

"No, I don't mind.."

I place my bag on the floor by the door, walking up and sitting on his bed, sliding my legs under the covers and sliding down to lay next to him. I was stiff, worried to so much as touch him. But eventually, I relaxed, turning to lay on my side, facing him.

I looked at him through half-lidded eyes, my body already starting to sink into his bed, ready to get a proper night's sleep. My eyelids slowly drifted shut.

I was woken when Percy broke the silence.

"Y/N?" Percy whispered, almost silent.

"Mhm..?" I mumbled back, not bothering to open my eyes.

"I really like you, you know that?"

If I wasn't half asleep, maybe I would have said something different. If I had the energy maybe I would have been flustered.

"... I really like you too."

I only heard him chuckle before he placed a hand on my hip.

"Get some sleep, yeah? I'll confess my undying love when you'll properly Remember it."

I must have frowned, because he laughed lightly and pulled me a little closer.

It didn't matter though. I slipped back to sleep, and when I woke up I didn't remember.

I remembered waking up some point in the night, but I didn't know what was said.

And in the morning, I got the promised waffles and left the Jackson's apartment.

The ever chivalrous Percy Jackson (who I woke up cuddling with), offered to walk me home.

We took the long way, and when we reached my door step, he pressed his lips to mine and told me he couldn't wait for me to babysit again, though he wouldn't mind me coming around before then.

He left me breathless and giddy, and so so happy to have accepted Sally's offer.

#pjo x reader #pjo fic #pjo #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x reader fluff #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson fic #percy jackon and the olympians

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redrose10 · 1 month ago

Text

I hope everyone likes it and thank you for your patience!

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Snake Hybrid Yoongi x Female Reader

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, euthanasia, doctors office and sickness, mentions of mating/breeding but no smut, abandonment

Word Count: 6,432

Yoongi stared out of the passenger window watching an unfamiliar world roll by him.

“She’s a really good person, trust me. She’ll take good care of you and she won’t hurt you.”, Taehyung spoke from the drivers seat trying to calm his friend’s nerves.

“You said she was scared of snakes. I give it twenty four hours before I’m back at the adoption agency because she was too scared to have me in her house.”

It wouldn’t be the first time Yoongi was adopted and then swiftly returned.

The first time was when he was in his early teens. He had just been put up for adoption for the first time. It didn’t take long for someone to come in and show interest in him, a young mother had adopted him as a companion for her two kids thinking she was being a cool mom by getting them a snake hybrid instead of the usual dog, cat, or bunny ones.

Yoongi arrived to their home happy and ready to be there for the kids in any way he could only for them to scream and run in fear as soon as they saw the snake hybrid. He was returned first thing the next day after spending the night locked up and alone in the garage.

Then shortly after, he was adopted by some guy. They had an alright relationship for a few months until his new girlfriend came over. She took one look at Yoongi and gave the ultimatum of her or the hybrid. The guy chose her and Yoongi was dumped on the side of the road several days later.

Yoongi never had a real home even before those events. After being bred in a lab as part of an experiment he was used for research for many years. Kept in a room that was too small and not nearly warm enough. Fed barely enough to keep him alive. Poked and prodded for hours on end and threatened with euthanasia if he dared to act with aggression.

Then a couple weeks ago he overheard the director of the shelter he was currently being housed in. The guy made it clear that he was tired of wasting money and resources on an adult snake hybrid that no one was ever going to adopt. One of the volunteers at the shelter, Taehyung, begged and pleaded with the owner to give him more time to find a home for Yoongi. Taehyung had become somewhat fond of the stoic hybrid, but unfortunately didn’t have the time, space, or money to adopt him his-self. Ultimately the owner gave him two weeks to find a permanent home or it was the end of the line for him.

And that’s how Yoongi found himself in the passenger seat of Taehyung’s car on his way to meet some woman who he overheard is terrified of snakes yet for some strange reason agreed to adopt someone who has half the DNA of one.

You paced around your house trying to busy yourself and avoid the feeling of dread that was building up as you knew Taehyung was getting closer. You really regretted agreeing to adopt a snake hybrid. Ever since you were a small child you have been terrified of snakes. Even the sight of one could bring you to tears. You didn’t have much experience with snake hybrids either since they were pretty rare to begin with and you definitely never went out of your way to meet one but you imagined you wouldn’t like a hybrid anymore than a a pure snake.

Taehyung knew this. He also always said you had a heart of gold which he used to his advantage when he gave you a whole sob story about Yoongi’s life and everything he had been through. You did feel bad for him and genuinely did want him to have a good home. You just wished his new home was going to be on a luxurious island while he was being pampered and that it wasn’t going to be with you.

Taehyung had assured you that you wouldn’t even know Yoongi was half snake. He said he was calm, quiet, kept to himself. He ate normal food just like any person.

You cringed at remembrance of the awkward moment with you asking if you were going to have to store a bunch of dead mice in your freezer but he assured you with a smile that Yoongi would be happy to eat whatever you were but if you wanted to do something extra special then get him some tangerines as a treat. They were one of his favorites but gave him stomach aches so he couldn’t have them often.

There was also the issue of your cat, Alice. You felt bad for even thinking about it but you were genuinely concerned with having a snake hybrid under the same roof as a house cat. But again you were informed that it wouldn’t be an issue and that Yoongi actually loved cats even if he would never admit it. One of his best friends growing up was a cat hybrid named Jimin.

After a couple days of thought you finally agreed to let Yoongi stay with you. But you were severely second guessing that decision as you heard a car pull into your driveway. Your anxiety immediately sky rocketing.

Taehyung entered your home and quickly swallowed you in a big hug as he usually did.

“Y/N, this is Yoongi. Yoongi this is Y/N.”, he said getting right to business seemingly a little short on time.

At first glance you really couldn’t tell he was part snake at all. He was slightly shorter than Taehyung and only a little taller than you. His reddish orange hair really stood out as a surprise. You don’t know why you imagined him with jet black or maybe even green hair but then you remembered from the info packet you were sent that he was a corn snake and from the little bit of research you did before your fears got the best of you too much you remembered the colors of a standard corn snake and it made sense after all.

His eyes were a deep brown and didn’t appear snake like as you had imagined…one of your biggest worries. Something about their eyes was always so unsettling to you. You didn’t really see any terrifying fangs or a forked tongue. He had a cute button nose. No scales that you could see but Taehyung did mention he had some small scales sprinkled around his body. When you cringed Taehyung was quick to inform you they looked more like a cool tattoo than actual scales so you wouldn’t freak out if you ever were to see them. After all this Yoongi looked like any average guy about your age. You dared to even say he was attractive.

“Hi. Nice to meet you.”, you whispered.

“Yeah you too.”, Yoongi nodded feeling uncomfortable with how uncomfortable he could tell you felt.

Taehyung quickly said goodbye mumbling something about traffic and the rain and a hard ass boss so he left rather quickly even though internally you were pleading with him to not leave you alone.

“Umm so I guess I can show you to your room.”, you said wanting to escape the awkward silence.

Taking him upstairs you swung open the door making room for Yoongi to follow in after you.

“I’m sorry it’s not much. But I got you a bed and there’s a desk over here. Taehyung said you like to write so I got you a few new notebooks and some fancy pens. And uh maybe we can get you a tv or something but in the mean time you’re welcome to watch tv downstairs whenever you want.”

Yoongi looked around the room. He had never had his own bedroom before. The most he ever got was a corner of the basement and if he was lucky they might hook up a heat lamp for him. This was incredible and he didn’t really know how to respond but he also knew there was no way he was going to trust you even with all of this. Especially when he could sense how terrified you were just from standing next to him.

“Okay well I’m gonna go cook dinner. Um let me know if you need anything.”, you said before quickly exiting the room.

Yoongi waited all night and all of the next day to hear the familiar words he dreaded but had gotten so used to. Then one day turned into two and then into a week and then into three weeks and so on. You never mentioned anything about kicking him out or taking him back to the shelter. You offered him several meals a day even though he politely declined not needing to eat as much as you. When he did eat he preferred to do it privately and he appreciated that you respected his space. He kept to himself most of the time. He didn’t want to do anything to upset you and cause you to send him back. He could still feel the tension radiating off of you any time he did walk into the same room.

You were starting to feel terrible that you were still so scared of him. He had done nothing to make you think he was any kind of a threat other than the dna that created him which he had zero control over.

He was polite. He cleaned up after himself. He even took on some chores around the house like vacuuming and cleaning the litter box, two of your least favorite things to do.

You smiled as you remembered the day you came home to find him frantically tearing apart your house. Your blood pressure rose slightly worried that this was him beginning to act out until he dropped to his hands and knees to search for something under the couch. “Here kitty kitty kitty.”, he said shaking the treat bag.

When you finally asked what was wrong, it turned out that he couldn’t find Alice for their daily nap session so he was worried she had escaped when he took the trash out earlier. He had been looking all over for her. Your fear subsided and was replaced with admiration at the panic he was going through over the thought of loosing your cat who had since become his cat too. You were able to calm him down and show him her usual hiding spot in your closet where thankfully she was peacefully curled up in ball oblivious to the hysteria she caused him. He scooped her up mumbling something about never scaring him like that again and that now he needed double the nap time just to calm his nerves.

It warmed your heart however you still couldn’t shake the constant reminder that there was a snake in your presence.

Likewise Yoongi, while slowly warming up to you, was still waiting for those words. Every night when he crawled into his big fluffy bed that was in his slightly too cold room that he was too afraid to tell you about he wondered if the following day would be the day it all ends.

He really liked living with you. You left him to do his own thing most of the time. You gave him more food than he could eat. You even went out of your way to buy him a birthday cake when he said he had never had one. His birthday wasn’t for another six months but he ate the cake happily not wanting to let you know he thought it was disgustingly sweet and he hoped you would ever find out that it made him sick later that night.

You purchased him a bunch of new clothing when you noticed he wore the same two outfits over and over. He didn’t want to know how much you spent because it would only make him feel guiltier. He didn’t think he deserved it.

You even drove him an hour across the city so he could hang out with Jimin for a while. He didn’t expect you to and he was shocked that you did, especially when he could sense your unease from being so close to him through the whole car ride.

Yoongi did have to admit he was a tiny bit jealous when you welcomed Jimin into a hug with open arms, not that he was really a hugger himself to begin with. But watching you be so relaxed around Jimin as you scratched his fluffy cat ears and giggled when he used his tail to tickle your nose made Yoongi feel a tinge of hurt. No one ever wanted to cuddle with a snake.

He could tell that you were slowly warming up to him but you were still cautious thanks to his dna. He wished more than ever that he could be cute and fluffy like Jimin, maybe then his life would’ve been much easier.

When the two of you returned home that evening he decided that he was going to attempt to cuddle. He had never done it before but watching you cuddle Jimin made him long for that comforting touch.

So he waited until he smelled the popcorn and he heard the television click on. He waited a few minutes to not make it super obvious that he had been waiting for this moment. Then he took a deep breath and shoved his shaking hands into his pockets so you wouldn’t see them and went downstairs to where you were located.

“What’s up?”, you asked after noticing him awkwardly standing in the doorway.

He shrugged, “Nothin, just thought I’d come watch a little tv.”

He sat on the couch next to you but made sure there was enough space that you weren’t touching so not exactly cuddling.

You were scrolling through the movie options when came across the Harry Potter films.

You were completely shocked when Yoongi said that he had never seen any of the movies so you excitedly hit play and handed him the bowl of popcorn to get a handful.

As the movie went on and you really got into it Yoongi started feeling his confidence increase. Slowly but steadily he started inching closer and closer to you until his body was just mere centimeters from yours.

Then he heard the gasp. He panicked thinking maybe you were freaked out that he was so close to you and he instantly regretted everything. He tried to scoot away but you grasped onto him burying your cheek into his shoulder. You kept your head swiveling between looking at the tv and looking at his neck. Your hands had instinctively grabbed onto his and you were fiddling with his fingers. He could sense that your heart rate had significantly increased from the few minutes before.

When he looked up at the screen he saw what was the cause of all of this. Harry Potter was talking to a very large Burmese Python. Then the glass was gone and the snake started slithering out of its cage and onto the ground as people screamed in fear. Yoongi could feel you tensing up as you squeeze his hand a little tighter.

Once the scene was over and the snake was no longer on the screen he waited for you to release him but you never did, instead you snuggled in a little closer and took some of your blanket placing it on his lap so he settled into the couch and tried to take in every single moment of his first ever cuddle session.

When the movie ended and you finally released your grip on him shyly admitting that you hadn’t planned on that Yoongi started to laugh. He realized something he hadn’t before.

“What is so funny?”, you asked amused.

“Nothing…nothing.”, he said unsure if he should bring it up.

“Seriously Yoongi. What is so funny?”

“Well I just realized something. Y-You got scared about the snake in the movie. And then spent the rest of the movie cuddle up to a…a…a snake hybrid. I just thought that was kind of funny.”

You thought about his words for a moment before chuckling yourself, “Yeah I guess I’m lucky you’re just so cute and cuddly.”

Your eyes widened and before he could respond you quickly grabbed your things and headed up stairs feeling overwhelmed with embarrassment.

Yoongi sat there for a moment basking in your words. In his life he had been called many many things but cute and/or cuddly we’re not it and it was you of all people to say those words. He loved it but it also terrified him in ways he never felt before.

Ever since your little cuddle session things were kind of awkward between you. You were stuck between really really liking him and wanting to spend every minute of the day next to him but no matter how hard you tried you still had it in the back of your mind that he was part snake and that you weren’t sure if you should have those kind of feelings towards him. And Yoongi was stuck between realizing he was falling in love with you and not wanting to get hurt because he knew you would never ever feel like that towards him. So he started distancing himself from you.

He had been doing his best to be as easy and simple to live with as possible. He didn’t tell you about how his room was a little too cold or how he had a little rash from the lack of humidity in his room. He didn’t tell you how all of the onions you always cooked with gave him heartburn. He was too afraid to anger you in some way for fear that you would return him.

But then one morning he woke up with a little issue that was getting harder and harder to ignore.

Ever since the first child ran in fear when they saw him, Yoongi begged the shelter director for contacts. He said they would help him get adopted. He had always worn glasses to help with his poor eyesight but he wanted the contacts to help conceal the snake like quality of his eyes. His red irises and large black pupils often made people look away in fear or uncomfortableness but with the contacts he looked human. His intimidating eyes replaced with soft brown ones that looked warm and welcoming instead.

He had been down to two pairs and since the director made it clear that he was no longer spending any money on him he was too afraid to ask for more.

So for the last couple of months he had been wearing the same pair 24/7 and much past their expiration date too nervous of what you would think of him if you saw his true form.

The thought of you running in fear made his heart hurt just a little bit more than he’d like so he wore the contacts even at night just in case.

Then this morning he woke up with swollen eyes that were bright red and hard to keep open. Every time he blinked it felt like he was being stabbed with a burning hot knife. The fear of permanently going blind started creeping into his mind.

To make things worse he could hear you calling his name from downstairs. Reluctantly he went to find you.

“Hey I’m going to the grocery store and just wanted know if there was anything you neeeedd…Oh my God!! Yoongi are you okay? What’s wrong?”, you said quickly walking over to him to get a closer look.

“Yeah yeah I’m fine. Just some allergies or something. You know Alice practically sleeps on my face all night.”, he chuckled.

“Um I think maybe I should take you to a doctor just to be safe. This looks worse than allergies.” Yoongi tried to protest but you were already on the phone calling the first office that Google provided. Thankfully they had an opening later that same afternoon.

“Nervous?”, you asked noticing his leg bouncing up and down for the last several minutes.

“Yeah I uh I don’t do well at doctors.”, he said which wasn’t completely a lie. He had spent the first half of his life being treated poorly by people in white coats so he grew to be uneasy around them, this time though he was more nervous about what the outcome would be once you saw his true form.

“Min Yoongi.”, the assistant shouted into the crowded waiting room.

“Need me to go with you or are you okay by yourself?”, you asked.

Yoongi had never even thought about that and suddenly he felt a huge sense of relief, “I can go in alone. It’s no big de-.”

But he was cut off by the same assistant, “She’ll have to come back with you. Sorry it’s a requirement for all first time patients.”

Yoongi and you both nodded and followed her back into one of the exam rooms.

“The doctor will be right in.”, she smiled before closing the door.

Taking in the view of the room you started to worry that maybe you accidentally booked a pediatric hybrid doctor. The room was decorated with brightly colored music notes and cute drawings of different animals. One of those motivational posters with a picture of a cat hung on the opposite wall. You were about to pull out your phone to double check when the door swung open, “Good afternoon. Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long. My name is Dr. Hoseok Jung but you can call be Dr. J, Doc, Hobi, whatever you’re comfortable with.”

He walked in not looking like any doctor you’ve ever seen before. He was wearing jeans with neon paint splashes on them paired with matching neon Jordan’s and a tshirt you were pretty sure was from Gucci. No white coat and the only indication of who he was being the name tag he wore clipped to his shirt. He had a big bright smile as he shook your hand. You caught yourself wondering if he accepted human patients too because he seemed so bright and bubbly.

“You must be Y/N and you must be Yoongi! So, what brings you in today?”, he said clasping his hands together.

Yoongi too shy to speak looked to you for help.

“Oh uh well he woke up today with his eyes pretty irritated. He says it’s allergies but I just want to make sure it’s nothing serious.”

Hoseok studied Yoongi for a moment, “Hmm yeah I can see that. Well first I have some quick standard questions to go through. I just want to see if anything stands out as unusual or anything. Yoongi you’ll probably have to answer most of these yourself.”

He started typing away on his laptop before he paused to look at Yoongi, “Alright so just to confirm you are 31 years old, a male, and a corn snake hybrid. Is that correct?”

“Yes that’s correct.”

“Perfect! And how long have you lived with Y/N?”

“Probably like ten-ish months now.”

“Good…good.”

“Eating okay? Sleeping okay? Enough energy to get through the day?”

“Yeah yeah everything is fine.”

“Alright and no aches or pains other than your eyes?”

For a moment Yoongi thought about bringing up the painful rash he had since the humidity in his room wasnt right but he didn’t want to irritate you or scare you any more than you already were going to be so he decided against it?

“No, just my eyes.”

“Well that’s good. And lastly how is your libido?”

Your eyes widened and Yoongi nearly choked on his spit, “I’m sorry what?”

Hobi smiled unfazed and clearly used to getting that kind of a reaction. He continued, “You know your sex drive…your want to mate…your desire to breed? Would you say it’s below, above, or just about average?“

“I uh I um uh I…average I guess.”, he mumbled. His poor cheeks were nearly as red as his hair and you felt so bad but couldn’t get over how cute he looked like that. And then the doctor asked a question that embarrassed you just as much.

He was typing away on his laptop, “Mmhmm. Mmhm, that’s good. One more super duper awkward question and then we’re done. Do you notice an increase in your sexual desires when you spend time around an ovulating female?”

You kept your eyes focused on the silly cat poster in front of you not wanting to make this any more uncomfortable than it already was by looking in Yoongi’s direction.

You didn’t hear him verbally respond but the doctor must have gotten the answer he needed because he closed his laptop and walked over to the sink to wash his hands. Your cheeks felt hot and were probably just as red as Yoongi but thankfully no one mentioned it.

Okay this might hurt for a bit but I want to get a better look.”, he said pulling out a small flash light and shining it into Yoongi’s eyes while he gently tried to pry them open.

You felt awful watching him flinch in pain.

“Yoongi when was the last time you removed these contacts?”, the doctor asked.

He chewed on his lip for a second trying to buy some time, “It’s been a while. A couple months at least. I used to take them out for a little here and there but I’ve been keeping them in all the time lately.”

“I see…and are they colored contacts?”

He simply nodded.

The doctor was slowly piecing everything together as he started washing his hands again before reaching for a pair of gloves.

“Unfortunately they need to come out. You have quite a nasty infection going on.”

Curiously you watched on as the doctor put a few drops into Yoongi’s eyes to help them relax a little so he could get out the contacts. Hobi helped him wipe his eyes and then added a few more drops to give some additional relief.

Yoongi blinked a few times before trying to look anywhere but at you.

“I’m going to put a little of this gel in your eyes. We’ll give you a prescription to take home along with some eyes drops. Y/N, if you want to come over here I can show you how to apply the gel. He’ll probably need help with it.”

You nodded before taking a few steps over and stopping in your tracks. It was the first time you had seen his natural eyes. Gone were the soft brown eyes that you had slowly come to know and fell for. They were replaced with red iris’s surrounding large black pupils, the irritation only making them more prominent. There was definitely something snake like about them yet they were beautifully unique. You were a little taken back but you reminded yourself who you were looking at and his eyes didn’t change who he was.

And even though your brain was trying to admire them your body had other plan and Yoongi definitely took notice.

The way you moved to stand behind the doctor as a way of protecting yourself.

Your feet slightly turned and pointed towards the door like you were ready to escape.

He could sense your blood pressure had risen.

His worst fear had come true. But not only were you scared of his true form and he would most likely be heading back to the shelter, he also felt his heart breaking because he knew he was going to be going the rest of his life knowing he loved you and you only saw him as a monster.

The doctor showed you how to apply the gel and he gave you a couple bottles of drops. Yoongi was going to have to wear his glasses for a few weeks until his eyes cleared up and then you could take him to order some new contacts. He even gave Yoongi a bottle of medicated lotion “just in case” any skin issues were to come up and he gave you a pamphlet on how to properly care for a snake hybrid which you appreciated.

The drive home was silent. Yoongi declined your offer of dinner even through you suggested his favorite chicken place. You assumed it was probably because he was still embarrassed about all of the questions earlier so you didn’t pressure him and went home instead.

Yoongi spent the rest of the day locked in his room while you read through the info packet from the doctor. By the time you were done you felt like a horrible irresponsible person. You had thought you did enough research but you were really mistaken. Poor Yoongi was probably freezing and no wonder the doctor gave him a special lotion. The doctor had seen this before so he knew that his room wasn’t providing what he needed and was going to cause him issues.

So bright and early the next morning you headed out with a list of things to purchase to try and make Yoongi’s room more comfortable for him.

At the same time Yoongi was already up and packing. He only packed up the clothes he had arrived with not wanting to take anything you bought for him other than a couple pairs of socks that were really soft and fuzzy, he hoped you wouldn’t mind.

He also grabbed the stuffed mouse you had won him in one of those claw machines at an arcade. It had a pink bow and you had named her Petunia. He found himself holding onto the little mouse at night and he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep without it.

He realized that it was getting quite late and that you were nowhere to be found. He searched the house and started wondering if maybe you were so scared you couldn’t even spend the night under the same roof as him.

Right as he was about to grab his bag and just leave on his own he heard the door open and you come barreling in. He could hear the crinkle of bags and boxes banging against the wall. You were clearly talking on the phone.

“Yeah I know Tae, thanks for telling me by the way…

Of course it was a mistake!…

I’m terrified! What if something happened?…

Okay yeah but still…

Well I’m just saying that it was something you probably should’ve brought to my attention when you asked me about adopting him…

I was so stressed all night. I left as soon as I got up this morning…

No way! I’m not doing that any more…

I’m gonna fix it right now actually. I just got home…

Okay bye…”

Yoongi could feel the familiar sensation of tears beginning to cloud his eyes although this time it hurt more than usual. Whether it was because his eyes were already irritated or because he knew this was his last chance or because he really liked you and didn’t want to leave…he wasn’t sure, maybe it was a little of all three.

He tried to compose himself sensing your footsteps coming towards his room but you were quicker than he was. He already had his coat on when you knocked, “Hey mind if I come in so we can talk?”

Yoongi nodded his head.

You took a seat at his desk and turned to look at him.

“Wow your eyes already look a little better…Wait! Are…are you crying? What’s wrong?”, you asked rolling the chair closer to him.

“Nothin, what time are we leaving?”

“Leaving? What do you mean?”

Yoongi scoffed, “You’re taking me back to the shelter aren’t you? I heard you talking to Taehyung.”

You felt your heart drop and your own eyes started filling with tears. You should’ve been more careful knowing everything that he had been through and that he could hear exceptionally well especially through the thin walls.

“Yoongi no no no. I’m not taking you back to the shelter. Quite the opposite really.”

“But…but you’re terrified of me. My real eyes make you uncomfortable. I can tell and you shouldn’t have to be scared in your own home. I heard you talking to Taehyung.”, he sniffled, “It’s fine. I’m used to not being wanted so you can just drop me off at the shelter or I can walk. I don’t mind.”

You watched him gently wipe away the wet streaks on his cheeks. “Oh Yoongi…”, you said moving over to the bed and wrapping your arms around him and squeezing him tight, “I’m sorry that I made you feel like that but you are wanted. I do want you Yoongi.”

He started crying even harder into your shoulder. His body convulsing with sobs as you tried to sooth him through your own tears.

After a few minutes he began settling down so you took his hand in yours.

“Yoongi I…I know I’ve put a big emphasis on the snake part of you but honestly I stopped caring about that a long time ago. I just didn’t realize it until recently. I like you Min Yoongi. I…I uh I might even love you. I’m sorry that I didn’t do enough to make you feel welcomed here.”

He sniffled, “But what about the stuff on the phone?”

“The stuff I said to Tae was about how I didn’t know that your room needed to be a certain temperature with specific humidity levels and I feel terrible that you’ve been suffering all this time. I was mad at him for not warning me and mad at myself for not being brave enough to do the research I should’ve have before you moved in. I’m sorry Yoongi. But if you want to stay here then I want you here too.”

His face was still buried in your neck but you could feel him nod his head bringing a smile to your face.

After you gave him some time to calm down you asked him to help carry everything you had bought upstairs to his room.

When you were all done setting everything up he had a brand new heated blanket that had several different settings, a new humidifier, and a space heater for when he needed a little extra warmth. You had an electrician coming in the following week to see about the options for installing a heat lamp or something similar onto the ceiling so that he could feel the warmth directly on himself much like a snake would do. You had also picked up some vitamins and a special body wash to help with his skin.

Which reminded you, “Oh! We should put your drops in. Dr. Jung said it was important not to miss a dose.”

Yoongi shook his head, “It’s okay. I can do it myself.”

“I know you can but if I help you it’ll be faster and more precise.”

Yoongi was hesitant but let you take him to the bathroom where all of the products were located.

He sat down on the floor with you on the edge of the tub as you fidgeted trying to get the bottle open.

You put one drop in each eye and told him to keep them closed before the second round.

“Once your eyes clear up we can go order you some new contacts if you want. You can get the clear one or colored ones. It’s up to you. But you don’t have to wear them all the time you know. If your glasses are more comfortable you should wear them, especially at home.”

“I don’t want you or anyone else to be scared.”, he whispered.

“Who cares what other people think. Their opinions don’t matter and I’m not scared of you Yoongi. Besides, I think you look really cute in those glasses.”

You smiled as you watched the blush crawl across his cheeks, “What else about me is cute?”, he playfully asked.

You added the second round of drops, “Well I think it’s cute how you try to hide the way you say your S’s so they don’t sound so snake like. And I think it’s cute how you do a little happy dance every time I stock the freezer with cookie dough ice cream. And I think it’s cute how you have the chubbiest little cheeks.”

You tried to give them a squeeze but he quickly swatted your hand away, “they’re not chubby.”, he pouted which only proved your point more.

After getting cleaned up you both plopped down on the couch ready for another movie night. Alice also joined this time, quickly taking her favorite spot in the center of Yoongi’s lap. You had already accepted that she was now his cat and you were merely the food bringer homer. But you didn’t really care. They were both happy which made you happy.

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and you had no problem cuddling in as close as you could get.

“Hey Y/N.”, he suddenly spoke as you were scrolling through the movie options. You lifted your head to look up at him.

“ Th-Thank you…for everything.”, he smiled feeling like he had a true home for the first time in his life and it just happened the be with the woman he loved, “I just wanted to make sure I told you that. I don’t think I’ve really said it since I’ve been here.”

“Don’t thank me. You deserve it. I’m just happy you’re here.”, you said before giving his cheek a kiss and snuggling back in to his side.

“Ohhh what about this one?”, you exclaimed.

Yoongi looked at the screen and then at you with his eyebrows raised, “Snakes on a plane? Seriously Y/N? That sounds like a terrible idea.”

You shrugged, “Yeah you’re right. I’ll probably get too scared and have to find someone to cuddle with the whole time and then I know I’ll definitely be too scared to sleep later so I will for sure need to find someone to cuddle with and keep me safe all night.”

You started scrolling again but it didn’t take long for laughter to fill the room as Yoongi took the remote from you and quickly scrolled back to the movie. He hit play and settled back in before pulling you close against him and placing a small kiss to the top of your head, “Luckily I’m here to cuddle any time you need it.”

@illnevertrustmyselfagain

#bts #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi #bts fanfic #bts x reader #yoongi x y/n #yoongi fic #yoongi angst #hybrid yoongi #yoongi #yoongi fluff #bts yoongi

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firesmokeandashes · 4 months ago

Text

Mha "could've been canon" quotes/scenarios

Fake Deku: *walks into the common room and over to Katsuki*

Fake Deku: "Hey Bakugou! Want to go spa-"

Half of class 1 a: *suddenly jumps the fake deku*

Fake Deku: "Wait! What are you guys doing! Get off me!"

Ochako: "Cut the bullshit, we know you're not Deku"

Fake Deku: *detransforms into some random villain*

Villain: "But how? I haven't done anything out of the ordinary!"

Todoroki: "Midoriya never calls Bakugou, Bakugou"

Tenya: "In fact we're not entirely sure he knows how to say Bakugo's real name"

Katsuki: Besides, danger sense would have alerted Izuku before everyone jumped you and gotten out of the way. So really you're just stupid"

Jirou: "Wait, sense this guy isn't Deku-"

Momo: "Where's the real one!?"

●●●●●●●

Meanwhile at the villain's hideout:

Izuku: "So you see, you can be whatever you want to be, you don't have to be a villain"

Villain 1: *sniffling* "That's so deep man"

Villain 2: *crying* "No one's ever told us that before! Thank you!"

Villain 3: *sobbing uncontrollably* "Thank you so much! Im gonna turn my whole life around now, I promise!"

Villain 4: *sitting in a corner contemplating their life choices and having a mental crisis*

Izuku: *slightly flustered* "There's really no need to thank me! You guys should have been told all this from the beginning!"

All four villains: *thinking* 'And he's humble too!'

●●●●●●●

Back at UA:

Aizawa: "So you mean to tell me he's been missing for FIVE HOURS!?"

Katsuki: *frustrated sigh* Yeah"

Aizawa: *insert groan of dissapointed and frustration*

Aizawa's phone: *rings*

Aizawa: "What!?"

Villain 1: "Um, is this Erasurehead?"

Aizawa: "Yes, what do want? I'm in the middle of important business!"

Villain 1: "Well, you see, we have one of your students, Midoriya, and we want to know where we should drop him off at?"

Aizawa: "...."

Aizawa: "What do mean 'drop him off at'"?

Villain 1: Well, he kind of gave us a talk about how we don't need to be villains and now we all feel bad about the stuff we did and want to give him back to you"

Aizawa: *sighs tiredly while dragging his hand down his face*

Aizawa: "Meet me at the abandoned choclate factory over on 15th street"

Villain 1: "Okay! Yeah, we can do that and I just want to say how sorry we are for kidnapping him! We're fully expecting to be arrested when we get there, so don't worry about us putting up a fight"

Aizawa: *sighs tiredly and hangs up*

Katsuki who listened to the whole conversation on speaker phone: "So he did it again?"

Aizawa: "Yup."

Katsuki: "And now you have to call the police and do more paperwork than you want to?"

Aizawa: "Yup."

Katsuki: "Want me to go with you to pick him up or..."

Aizawa: "Yes, lord knows he's gonna need someone to talk to on the way back and I cannot deal with him right now."

Katsuki: "So... what do we do with this guy?"

Katsuki: *jabs finger towards the shapeshifing villain who is tied and gagged with sero's tape snd spewing muffled curses at them*

Aizawa:"Hand him over to campus security and let them take care of him"

Katsuki: *nods and drags the screaming villain out the door with him*

Aizawa: "Im getting too old for this"

●●●●●

Later at the abandoned Chocolate Factory:

Aizawa, Katsuki, and a handful of cops walk into the Factory:

Izuku: *jumping up and down while waving his hand*

Cops: *rush over to arrest the villains*

Izuku: "Sensei! Kacchan!! Over here!"

Katsuki: "We know, idiot! We aren't blind!"

Villain 1 being arrested: *whispering* That's 'Kacchan'? I thought he'd be nicer"

Villains 2-4 also being arrested: *nod in agreement*

Izuku: *bounds over to Aizawa and Katsuki*

Izuku: "Sensei! Kacchan! You're not going to believe the day I've had!"

Izuku: *begins rambling*

Aizawa looks tiredly at Katsuki: "You take care of him, I have a big enough headache as it is"

Katsuki: *nods and turns back to listen to Izuku's rant and scold him for being reckless and getting in trouble again*

■■■■■■■

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spookyrea · 5 months ago

Text

You Can Wrap Me 'Round Your Finger...

You’re having a crisis trying to pick the perfect moment to tell Loki you love him. Loki is having a crisis, too, except his is decidedly way more embarrassing. Also, your pillows keep disappearing.

(aka - frost giant biology is weird and Loki has to suffer the consequences.)

a companion to Love at First Sight (or should I walk by again?) - can be read on its own!

Chapter 1 / 2 -- read it on AO3 here

Word count: ~5k

Warnings: fem reader; Loki is CLINGY

You could just make out the rosy hue of a late-season snowfall from your vantage point behind the cockpit; it blanketed the city, turning the streets a pale orange where streetlamp light reflected off of a crisp, white coat. For a city that never slept it was strangely quiet; at just past three o’clock in the morning, not even the snow plows were out yet.

Your team was returning from a four day long deployment to San Francisco – a retrieval mission where you were tasked with tracking down and seizing off-world cargo. It had gone over surprisingly well - zero casualties, a handful of actual combat incidents, and a scant few million dollars worth of petty property damage. It did require a proper cargo plane, though, which meant that the team had to rely on a local airplane hangar to get back home.

(Despite his truly unparalleled complaining, Tony’s choice to put the Avengers tower in the centre of a busy New York metropolitan block meant that there were certain restrictions - namely, the laws of physics - that limited the size of plane they could have on-site).

An unfortunate consequence of it all was that you were freezing. You made a face and folded your arms over your chest; you were dressed for a late February chill, in tac-pants and a knit sweater, not a snowstorm. As romantic as the snow looked, the cold was settling over you like an ache and, coupled with the early-hour and a tender bruise on your left side, your mood was only souring. You cast your eyes to the ceiling and prayed that a car was already waiting for you on the tarmac.

The quin-jet touched down a little roughly; you felt Wanda’s wince without looking at her, but Tony immediately came to her defense. “No, that was because of the snow. Poor visibility. Out of your control. Definitely. I’m passing you with flying colours - hey, get it?”

The loading ramp slid open with a pop and a hiss; your ears felt funny now that you were on solid ground, like they were full of cotton. Natasha tugged on her earlobes, then reached over and tugged on Steve’s too to be a pest. He swatted her away with a scowl.

Moments later, attendants began to climb the loading ramp in groups of two. You scowled. They were at least dressed for the weather.

You pulled your hands from between your thighs, trying to focus on anything other than the way your core muscles were tensed against the chill, and thanked whatever powers-that-be that you could finally go home. You were half way through unbuckling your seatbelt when an automated voice warned you from overhead not to leave your seats.

“Sorry, everyone,” Tony called. “Safety or whatever. All cargo has to be removed before we can get up. Just a few minutes. You’ll be warm and in bed in no time.”

You sank low in your seat, arms crossed, and focused very hard on glaring a hole in the quid-jet floor. Who knows -- maybe you could spontaneously develop heat-vision. It would look good on your resume.

“I was beginning to think I’d have to go collect you myself.”

Crossing the jet in long strides, tall enough to peer over most attendants' heads, was Loki. Your boyfriend.

Dressed in civilian clothing, Loki was something resplendent. His pale skin, warmed by the cool twilight haze outside, was a stark relief against his mop of riotous dark curls, and his green eyes caught the light in a mysterious way. A pair of neatly-polished shoes rattled the grated floor as he approached, weaving in between attendants, until he came to a stop at your side. With a wave of his hand, Loki manifested a fine wool cloak to drape over your shoulders. His long fingers drew the golden hook at the collar through its eye and smoothed it flat against your sternum.

“Can’t have you freezing to death,” he murmured.

You thumbed the stitching along the hem of the cloak; the thread was such a dark green that it almost blended in with the black fabric. “I would have been fine.”

“Well, if you’re too warm, I can certainly help cool you down.” Loki slid into the seat next to you and blew an icy breath across your neck, making you shriek. The grin he shot you was lecherous - truly vile , you mumbled - and sent a hot thrill from your nape to the pit of your belly.

“You are evil.”

“You should have me locked up.”

You pulled the collar of his cloak up to your face, pressing the velvety edge to your mouth. “I’m putting in a request immediately.”

Loki offered you his wrists, that sticky grin growing even wider. “Why wait?”

A flash of green seidr crackled suggestively, implying where a set of handcuffs might bind him. Your eyes snapped to the whirlwind of snow outside, cheeks hot.

Tony gagged obnoxiously from the pilot’s seat. The comms system crackled to life overhead. “Get a room, you two.”

Loki scoffed, mock affront dripping from his lazy posture, and poured himself over your shoulders, even though the armrest was in the way and was without a doubt digging into his side. He plucked your hand from your lap, lacing his fingers through yours and drawing it up to his mouth. His lips idly traced the edge of his signet ring on your thumb while you watched the cargo roll by, box by painstaking box.

You had only been dating for a few months, having finally confessed your mutual attraction after a tumultuous, alcohol-fueled evening together. It turned out that the entire time that you had been harbouring a monumental crush on Loki, he’d been just as gone on you - a fact you hadn’t known, since his idea of showing interest was to give you shiny rocks and hand feed you foods, and yours was whatever Tinder had going on.

Once the two of you had gotten over your - admittedly pretty embarrassing - communication barrier, you fell into a nice routine. You found that you were more confident without the weight of an unrequited crush looming over you, and Loki was eons more likely to finish his paperwork as long as you were there to play footsie with him under the table and let him ramble every fifteen minutes. He still flirted with everything that moved, but you recognized the nuances of his affection now. He never touched anyone, but he hung off of you like a limpet; he might smile and schmooze at parties, all lecherous grins and innuendo, but his eyes always sought your approval out after every punchline; and he only ever called you pet.

(And on one occasion, master. But that was a different story.)

Once the attendants had unloaded the last crate into a van, Tony gave everyone the OK to exit the plane without worrying about being trampled. Steve was the first out, blinking sleep out of his eyes. Natasha, Bruce and Tony were quick to follow, all stumbling into the first car they saw, while Wanda stayed and fiddled with a few switches from the co-pilot’s seat. Under Natasha’s suggestion, she was trying to get a proper license to fly - mostly for paperwork-related reasons, because the insurance company charged a fortune every time an Avenger ‘borrowed’ a vehicle without permission.

Before you could protest, Loki scooped up the duffle bag at your feet and started down the loading ramp into the storm, leaving you and Wanda as the last on the plane. You rapped your knuckles against the ceiling and sent her a questioning look. Decked out in her oversized headset and a fuzzy quarter-zip sweater Tony had commissioned for the team, she looked right at home behind the quinjet control panel. She shot you a thumbs up, gesturing for you to go on ahead. You blew her a quick kiss and then hurried after Loki, fighting to keep the cloak shut against the blustering wind.

Wet snow crept under your pant legs, clinging unpleasantly to the strip of skin left exposed by your socks. Loki had already packed your belongings away in the farthest van and was waiting by the back door, held open for you. You jogged - as best you could given the weather - the last couple of feet and slid into the backseat.

Loki hauled himself through the other door a moment later. The driver - a bored looking man with a dark beard and greying temples - pushed the stick shift into gear and turned off the runway.

You shivered, brushing clumps of snow off your ankles. Dark stains were climbing up your shins where the it bled through. Loki leaned across the seat to help you, running a shimmering hand over your shoulders to dry you off.

Mostly satisfied, you sank back and watched the city roll by, the empty streets cast in shades of neon as the snow reflected billboards and store displays. It was a beautiful sight, the kind of morning you would normally want to commit to memory for the postcard-ness of it all – except you were exhausted and a little cranky, so you turned your eyes to stare at your boyfriend instead.

(You made it a full three minutes without looking at him - a new personal record.)

You admired him the way an owner might creep up on a beloved pet in a sunbeam; you didn’t want him to know you were looking, in case he spooked and moved, so you kept your cheek turned and watched from the corner of your eye. He was deep in thought, luckily, which gave you some leeway to admire his profile. There was something decidedly boyish about him when he was relaxed, a softness you so rarely got to see; it made you want to kiss every inch of him just for the sake of kissing.

He drew an aimless pattern with his thumb across your upper thigh. His pinky finger was stretched comically far from the rest of his fingers, as if willing your hand to reach out and intertwine but too stubborn to ask. For a silly, love-sick moment you were overwhelmed by the need to tell him you loved him - and then your brain caught up with your heart and bludgeoned it into submission.

The knowledge that you were in love with him and the nebulous un-knowledge of how he felt about you was starting to wear on your nerves. You understood logically that he liked you - enough to court you, under different circumstances - but what you felt when you looked at him was a hurricane of emotions, a self-sustaining cycle of hot air up and cold air down, whipping the sea so hard that it formed storm clouds unbidden by the laws of nature. You knew that he felt things differently, had lived a dozen of your lifetimes no doubt filled with pretty things. Would this change your relationship? Would you breaking that last barrier make yourself less desirable somehow?

You wanted to tell him. To share the inherent joy of being in love.

It just scared you to death, was all. No big deal.

His mouth twitched; his eyes caught yours in the window’s reflection as the car entered the dark parking garage. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Nothing,” you squeaked. “Just tired. Sorry.”

The car dropped you off in the underground parking of the Avengers’ tower. Yours was the last of the convoy, so you and Loki slipped out of the car into an empty lot where only a few strangler attendants were unloading and taking inventory. You held one corner of the cloak in your hand, worried it would drag through the slush puddles tracked in by the cars. Loki’s hand came to rest on the small of your back while he hoisted your bag over his shoulder.

“After you, pet.”

You led him to the elevators, where you leaned against the railing and let your eyes slip shut. Loki selected a floor and then joined you, draping one arm around your shoulders to draw you into his chest.

You leaned your cheek against him. Now that you were home, the full weight of your exhaustion was bearing down on you. The pattern of knots Loki was drawing across the back of your neck wasn’t helping. You were suddenly grateful for the support of Loki’s body under you, solid and steady; you slid your hands under his jacket to hug him… then paused.

Something was… off.

You pulled back and gave him a once-over. Nothing outwardly betrayed him as different. He wore a pair of simple, straight-leg tac-pants and a white t-shirt under a brown vintage-style bomber he’d no doubt swiped from Bucky or Steve; the cut of each item flattered his narrow build exceedingly, a fact you knew he was aware of by the way he kept glancing at you during your drive home. His hair was wild and unstyled in a hopelessly endearing way - a look he’d taken to wearing often after you made a passing comment about liking it that way.

The jacket though…

He filled it out well. Too well.

“You’re bigger,” you blurted out.

Loki raised one eyebrow in a perfect, mocking arch. “Excuse me?”

“You’re,” you waved your hand up and down his body, “bigger. Like, broader. Have you been working out more?”

Loki glanced down at his chest. “No?”

You pushed the jacket off his shoulders to get a better look at him. The white cotton of his t-shirt puckered across his chest, wrinkling under the strain of an extra inch or so of muscle, and the side seams were pulled so taut that you could see the thread. You poked him right over his heart, admiring a new, plush firmness.

The tips of Loki’s fingers wormed under your shirt. His smile took on a wicked edge as he soaked in the sight of you in front of him. When you shot him a look, he screwed his face up into something resembling innocence. “If you’re going to ogle me like a piece of meat, I think it’s only fair that I get to admire you, too.”

You hummed and slipped his jacket back into place, smoothing your palms down his chest to rest just above his waistband. Loki’s evilness washed away to something sticky sweet; he slid his hand up between your shoulder blades, his fingers splayed wide to admire the shift of your muscles under your skin. His other hand twined with yours to lift your knuckles to his mouth.

The doors slid open on his floor. With a flourish and a fleeting kiss, Loki stooped to collect your bag. His free hand trailed behind him, outstretched for you to take, but you lingered with a smile and a shake of your head.

He came to an abrupt stop under the threshold, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion. He wiggled his fingers, as if you were refusing because you’d missed his offer to hold your hand. “What are you doing?”

You pressed the button for your floor. “I’m going back to my room.”

“No,” Loki whined, his hand still outstretched. “Please, darling.”

You rolled your eyes and attempted to pull your bag from his hands. “I’ll see you in a few hours, Loki.”

“But you’ll miss out on my new, broader body. Your bed will seem extra empty now in comparison. You should just skip the trouble.”

“Loki, I’m tired. And all my stuff is in my apartment.”

“You can wear something of mine.” Loki, exasperated, threw your duffle down in front of the elevator door and cornered you against the railing.

“Just for the night, Loki.” You pressed a chaste kiss to his mouth, one he didn’t return… and then seemed to regret, because only a heartbeat after you pulled away he was on you, cupping your face between both his hands and swiping his tongue across your bottom lip. You huffed out a sigh and pushed on his stomach; he managed to get two more kisses in before you finally won and put some distance between the two of you.

In a perfectly Loki-fashion, Loki sulked. He stomped out of the elevator and then turned to you, his hands firmly on his hips. “You vex me. Understand that I will be taking you out for breakfast tomorrow, no exceptions.”

You hooked a finger through your bag strap, dragging it back into the elevator. “Make it a late lunch. If you wake me before noon there will be punishments.”

Loki’s eyes twitched with the briefest hint of a smirk. His voice dropped an octave. “Promise?”

The elevator doors slid shut on his leering expression. You spent the rest of the ride valiantly trying not to fall asleep. The low hum of its engine was terribly soothing.

When the elevator opened to your floor, you weren’t surprised to find PAL - Tony’s Paperwork Assistant Lite robot, who usually helped organize and retrieve files in the office downstairs - waiting by your door. Measuring just under two feet tall, PAL could navigate the halls and elevator just fine as long as FRIDAY was willing to unlock the doors for him, but your manual lock-and-key front door was an insurmountable obstacle for him.

“How long have you been here, buddy?”

As soon as he recognized you, PAL trilled with delight. His metal chassis vibrated with the effort of waiting by the door. He rounded your feet while you dug through your pants pockets for your keys, narrating the week to you in his language of whistles and beeps, and raised his tiny paper tray, straining to try and take over the weight of your duffle bag. You huffed out a laugh, leaning ever-so-slightly to the side to set it on him but not to smother; the LED display on his face narrowed, as if he was concentrating very hard on not dropping your belongings.

As soon as you were through the door, you threw your bag by your shoe rack and toed off your sneakers, leaving them in a pile on the floor. PAL set to straightening them, sweeping them to the wall with his tray ahead like a snowplow. He tried to do the same to your bag, but his treads could only pinwheel against the weight.

You stood in the living room for a moment and folded Loki’s cloak over the back of your couch, contemplating skipping your whole routine and going straight to bed. You settled on missing a shower but washing your face - everything else could be dealt with in the morning. You made your way to your bedroom in search of clean pyjamas, then continued to the bathroom to brush your teeth, PAL close on your heels.

You had just exited the bathroom when someone knocked on your door. You tossed your washcloth into a bin on top of your washing machine and rounded the hallway to answer it.

Loki stood on the other side, dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and an oversized AVENGERS TACTICAL UNIT t-shirt. “Please, darling.”

“You have your own bed.”

“It’s too big without you.”

“You’re even bigger now. You’ll fill it out just fine.”

Loki stepped into your personal space; he hadn’t even bothered putting on shoes, wearing only a pair of grey wool socks. His hands curled around your hips as if to steady himself. “I’m afraid of the dark?”

“Try again.”

“My room was taken over by starving wolves while you were away and I only narrowly escaped.”

You sighed. You had to admit that it felt nice to have him in your arms like this, even if you knew giving in would only encourage him to lord over more of your time. “Absolutely no funny business, Loki.”

An incandescent grin split his face in two. He swooped in to kiss your cheek, then sauntered off toward your bedroom. You locked the door, made sure PAL was settled into his charging dock for the night, and then followed after your boyfriend.

You found him curled up on the side of your bed closest to the door, facing you, and holding one of your pillows hostage. He buried his nose in the fabric, a pleased sound rumbling through his chest, and watched you approach.

You swatted at him, not even bothering to round the bed, opting to crawl over his body to reach your side. Loki unfolded, abandoning the pillow to gather you up instead; his arms circled your waist and tugged you into his chest in an awkward collision of limbs, legs tangling in the comforter. You squirmed while he maneuvered you to his liking, tucking the length of his body around you tightly and nosing at the junction of your throat and jaw.

“Loki,” you chided. “I said no funny business.”

“This is a perfectly serious matter.” Loki untangled himself from you just long enough to pull the comforter over your body before sliding in beside you. One hand returned to your neck, tipping your chin back so he could press a loud kiss to your pulse point. “You don’t have enough blankets.

You stifled a yawn and pushed him to lie on his back, draping one leg over his. “Why’s that?”

Loki continued to rearrange the sheets with a scowl. “You’ll freeze to death under this thing.”

Already, your eyelids were heavy with exhaustion. You hummed. “I feel like I had more pillows than this. Maybe I’ve finally lost it.”

A small voice in the back of your mind whispered that you loved him, you loved him, you loved-

You settled with tracing a heart over his collarbone, over and over until you fell asleep.

You woke to the sound of FRIDAY’s voice through the PA system. “Mr. Laufeyson, your presence is being requested on the thirty-first floor. Mission briefing in fifteen minutes.”

You peeled your eyes open. You could tell by the slant of the sun through the curtains that it was past noon - a small victory, really. Behind you, Loki burrowed deeper into the fabric of your t-shirt, nosing along the ladder of your spine while groaning his displeasure. He drew the comforter around you tightly, trapping you under one muscular arm with a vengeance.

His voice, still deep and rasping with the last threads of sleep, rumbled through his chest. “Good morning, dear heart.”

Lovesickness bloomed like a bruise in your chest. “Morning,” you said, instead of I love you.

You half-turned and pecked the side of his mouth before sitting up. Loki made an affronted sound and reeled you back in by a fistful of your t-shirt, sending you sprawling halfway across his chest. He kissed you soundly, licking into your mouth with a low groan.

You blinked up at him once he pulled back. “Um. Good morning?”

“I was a perfect gentleman all night and you reward me with a peck. ” A scowl twisted his pretty face, petulance dripping off him in droves. His hands slid over your ass possessively, kneading the soft flesh with purpose. “I should have you flogged for that. Put over my knee.”

“Patience is a virtue,” you mumbled.

“Wrong faith, pet. Now- wait, where are you going?”

You paused, halfway through peeling yourself out of his arms (again), and pointed at the ceiling where FRIDAY’s voice reminded him that he was needed in thirteen minutes, Mr. Laufeyson . ”You have a debrief and I have a date with my coffee pot.”

“Not after you so callously rejected me. Come down here and make it up to me.”

You rolled your eyes and leaned in to kiss him again, slowly but deeply. Loki chased your mouth when you pulled away, frustration evident in the heavy way he sighed. Lifting you by the hips, Loki deposited you in his lap and held you there, digging his thumbs into the plush of your sides. Using the resulting sigh to his advantage, Loki cradled the back of your head and bullied your lips apart, pulling a sticky kind of want from your chest, leaving you dizzy and aching all at once.

When FRIDAY gave him a five minute warning, blinking the emergency strobe in the corner of your bedroom for good measure, Loki finally drew himself away and let you catch your breath. His head tipped back against the pillow, his throat on display in a long submissive line, and his shiny mouth parted in a groan. He mumbled something in his mother tongue, your name nestled right between lilting consonants.

“What was that?”

“Nothing important.”

“One day you’ll teach me what you’re saying,” you grumbled. “And then I’ll know all your secrets.”

Loki lazily arched one brow, smothered behind a curtain of riotous curls. “Is that so? All of them?”

“Mhm. All of it. Every last one.”

You traced a finger down the line of his nose. If ever there was a moment to tell him you loved him, now was probably it. Here, on the laziest of saccharine mornings, while the city outside was muted by a thick wall of snow and you were both ignoring responsibility to enjoy the other. And yet– doubt wove its way through your ribs, tying knots in the hollow spaces in your chest; you rolled off of him and sat up, pulling the hem of your shirt down where it had ridden up. “FRIDAY is going to bring the appliances to life if you don’t leave soon.”

Loki poised himself on the edge of your bed and snagged your wrist when you rounded it. There was nothing to the gesture – no comment, no complaint to make. He held onto you for the simple joy of owning a second of your time.

As if one cue, PAL rolled through your bedroom door, his little paper tray aloft. He chirped in greeting, then ran head-long into one of the bed frame’s legs.

You tamped down a lingering disappointment. Later. You would tell him later.

“Pest.” Loki swatted at PAL, who had taken to repeatedly bumping into Loki’s shins to convince him to get dressed. You gasped scoldingly when Loki shot a warning green spark in the robot’s direction; PAL, undeterred, narrowed the LED display on his face and wound up, knocking the god extra hard for good measure.

“PAL, go sit in the living room. You can pick something on Netflix for us to watch. And you,” you pointed a finger at Loki. “No threatening the robot.”

You left him to dig through your closet for something to wear; the far corner was steadily developing a growth of black, Loki-sized clothing. While you busied yourself with the coffee machine, PAL chirped at the TV and then parked himself in front of your window with his face pressed against the glass. Once your coffee was poured, you left out the gaudiest mug you owned – chipped, declaring you were Thor’s Number One Fan!, which Loki hated with a burning passion – and a spoon for when he joined you.

PAL beeped distractedly when you joined him by the window; there was a tender tilt to his little head as he gazed out, studying a pair of birds who had built their nest just below. His body shuddered, as if sighing, and his LED display blinked one long, slow blink.

It started as a tiny bundle of twigs a few weeks ago, trembling in the wind but shielded from the elements in the nook between a metal support beam and the windowsill. Then a few pieces of long grass were woven in, and a handful of fresh green branches, still flexible in their newness. They must have finished their home while you were away; two mates were deep under the spell of a snowy Sunday morning, bundled up under a layer of down and straw.

A solid pair of arms wound around your waist, drawing you backwards into an equally solid chest. Loki’s hair was damp where he’d run wet fingers through it, no doubt trying to contain the curling mess of bed head he woke up with every morning. It clung to your cheek a bit, the crown of his head pressed up to your face while he nosed at your shoulder. “Oh, hi– hello.”

“I don’t want to go,” Loki whined. He rocked you gently from side to side, resting his cheek against yours. “We should feign illness. It’s dreadfully contagious. And then we can—” a kiss, just under your ear, “stay in bed all day. To recuperate, of course.”

“As lovely as that sounds, you really do have to go. You know how Steve gets when you’re late.”

“As soon as I can I’m coming right back up here to ravish you. That’s a promise.”

PAL cooed, excited by some small movement from the birds. One of them had woken to preen the other, sweetly running its beak through its feathers.

“Look at their little nest. How cozy,” you said quietly. “Maybe that’s where my pillows went.”

The longer Loki considered the birds, the deeper the furrow between his brows grew. He seemed to be having a revelation of some kind. “I… have to speak with my brother about something.”

“Something wrong?”

“No. Just a thought. Don’t worry.”

PAL rolled backwards into Loki’s shins with purpose. He chirped sternly, as if chiding Loki in his machine-speak, who, in return, toed PAL’s chassis very gently in warning.

You laughed. “He’s coming, buddy.”

“Actually,” Loki muttered darkly. “On the contrary. My problem is that I’m not-”. You suspected the next words out of his mouth would have been incredibly inappropriate, had PAL not rolled pointedly over Loki’s foot.

You exited the elevator on the 31st floor a few hours later. A far cry from Tony’s party, the room was empty and mostly tucked away; chairs were stacked on tables and the bar was cleared of bottles; bright, unfiltered sunlight poured through the enormous lofted windows, allowing you an unobstructed view of the skyline and the meandering streets below. A couple of interns were having lunch on one of the couches in the corner. They must have been part of the newest wave of college recruits, because their eyes lingered in a starstruck kind of way that made you feel a little embarrassed.

You shot them a playful salute. Both startled, turning away in a rush.

Oh well. You couldn’t look Steve in the eyes for your first week on the team– you got it.

You found Loki in the farthest conference room, sat at the end of a long, round table between Steve and Bucky. You watched their fingers walk across its surface, handing a piece of folded paper between the three of them. Steve wrote something while the speaker was turned, then slipped his hand surreptitiously under the desk. Bucky coughed; from your vantage point, you saw his and Loki’s fingers unravel the note so they could read it discreetly.

Some executive droned at the other end, gesturing to a dreadfully laid out powerpoint. Matching manilla folders were spread open in front of the agents; you had a sneaking suspicion that whatever the speaker was saying was also written down and could have been read in half the time this meeting took.

You tried to catch Loki’s eye through the window but his attention was aimless, lost in some faraway place. A thought came to you; you rearranged your belongings to clasp your hands in front of you. Squeezing your eyes shut, you prayed - albeit poorly - to the god sitting a few dozen feet from you.

You peeked through one eye to see if it had worked; through the glass, Loki shot you a private smile, so sweet that it was practically a kiss. You waved him over, jerking your head toward the conference room door.

You watched him interrupt the speaker, his lazy posture rolling forward until he was sitting straight. Steve and Bucky nodded sagely, immediately following whatever story Loki had spun. Bucky pointed exaggeratedly to his metal arm, rubbing it as if it was tense.

The door opened and Loki slipped out into the hallway to meet you. Your grin bordered on becoming painful. Both your hands were folded behind your back. “You didn’t have breakfast this morning.”

“Observant.” He plucked a loose thread from the collar of your shirt and flicked it aside before leaning in for a quick kiss. You decided, even if you couldn’t say you love him, to treat him no less lovingly; you chased him when he pulled away, pressing your lips to his jaw. His grin was dazed, like you’d turned him dumb with the simple act of wanting him. “You’re even lovelier than the last time I saw you.

“I brought you something. Pick a hand.”

Loki walked his fingers down your left arm and pulled; you let him have it, your palm open – and empty. “Oh, that’s too bad.”

“Hmm. Terrible luck.” His knuckles dragged down the length of your other arm. In that hand was a take-out container from your favourite coffee shop, defaced with a smiley-face and cute message from the barista, Yvonne. It was his usual order, nothing special, but when his eyes tipped up to meet yours, there was something uncharacteristically open about his expression, a shy edge to the tilt of his smile. He leaned in and kissed you, soft and sweet like honey. “Do you think they’ll notice if I’m gone much longer?”

“Absolutely.”

Loki groaned, tipping your hips until they were flush to his. He kissed you hard enough to bend you backwards.

“I’ll come by your apartment tonight and we can get dinner?”

His fingers stilled where they were kneading your sides. “Yes, about that. Let’s… Let’s stay at yours tonight. The wolves that chased me out last night haven’t been evicted yet.”

Loki's answer confused you – he’d spent the entire night complaining that you wouldn’t go back to his room, then insulting your blanket choices, and now he wanted to stay at yours? “Ok. That works. Is everything okay?”

“Fine,” he said quickly. “Perfectly fine. You’re so tired though. Easier to stay where your belongings are. I won’t– won’t make you commute.”

You eyed him suspiciously. “Behave today.”

Another groan, this one pitched low; Loki traced your cheek with his nose. “I love it when you order me around.”

“Loki! Be-have.”

“Just one more, nymph. To tide me over.”

You sent him off with three more kisses. You were starting to wonder if you were too lenient with him; he delighted in taking advantage of your weakness to weasel more affection out of you. He returned to the conference room with his little box, opened in his lap under the table. When Bucky made to swipe a grape, Loki flicked his hand away with a glare.

When you returned to your room that evening, with Loki hot on your heels and his hands already halfway up your shirt, you were baffled to find your bed down one more pillow.

“PAL, did you do this?”

He shook his little head, LED screen blinking wide doe eyes up at you. It was the strangest thing, but when he thought you weren’t looking, you could have sworn that he shot Loki a pointed look.

#loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki smut #loki x you #loki fanfic #loki x female reader #no header we die like men (I don't want to dig through pinterest)#another one dredged up from my WIP folder after going. oh hey is this one finished??

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