#also we thought that match was stupid fucking sexy

[elitehoe]

Why is every man speaking for women when it comes to Hangman vs Swerve right now?? Women like deathmatches. Women like gory wrestling. Now shut up and just let us have some fucking fun damn.

[coleskingdom]

Everyday it feels like we are getting reenergized by the Death Match with new photos

[borathae]

↳ Index [Day 11 - Mommy Kink]

Pairing: Good Boy!Taehyung x Mommy Dom!Reader

Genre: married life!AU, new parents!AU, CEO!Taehyung

Kinks: sex on the living room sofa, praise kink, nursing handjob, her breasts still produce milk, breast & nipple massage, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering with three fingers, squirting, he eats it uppp, he spits on her pussy to lube her, multiple orgasms for both, sensitive pussy, deep creampie, talks about getting pregnant again, she kneels on the couch so he can fuck her doggy, he is frozen in pleasure and gets used as her pretty dildo <3, suit kink, she holds his tie, gentle hair holding, drooling, he bites her shoulder because of too much pleasure, subby boy tears, he is deep in subspace, giggly aftercare

Wordcount: 5.6k

a/n: rope inspo. i wanna start my notes by telling you guys do not expect regular pregnancy content on the blog at all. this is solely for kinktober cause we can be unhinged together. idk what happened but the thought of him helping her get rid of the swelling of her tits did something in me 😶 it was sexy for this story and in this context, but it’s not gonna be something regular on here. okay? okay. now that this is out of the way, here you go anon you finally have your ihyily!tae mommy kink story and it’s very sexy omfg it's so sexy holy fuck idk how to go on from now on 😩 have fun reading, i genuinely was so into it as i wrote it fajdsjf it's so hot holy fuck

Taehyung has been coming home late again. Since the birth of your daughter, he has reduced his hours at work to spend quality time with the family he always dreamed of. Until last week. A huge project has been keeping him in his office until the evening and it has been weighing him down. Not only because it is very stressful to work ten, sometimes more, hours per day but also because it means that he has to stay away from his family. Taehyung hates it. He hates it so, so much, but can’t do anything about it. 

The only thing he can do is be grumpy about it and oh how grumpy he is tonight. He takes off his shoes and coat with a big pout and puts his office bag on the dresser groggily. 

He doesn’t call out for you because it is already late and he doesn’t want to risk waking you. 

You are staying at home entirely for now, enjoying your time with the baby as much as possible. It is difficult and exhausting work, draining you so much that you always end up already fast asleep when Taehyung comes home. Which is another reason why Taehyung hates working late. He doesn’t get to see you all fucking day, can’t eat dinner with you, play with his daughter, let alone talk to you. When he leaves for work, you are still sleeping and when he comes home you are already sleeping. Taehyung hates working long hours and he hates this stupid project and the loneliness he feels. 

He goes straight upstairs, wanting to check in on you before he eats a sad, lonely dinner all alone and sad and alone and sad on the couch. He hates working long hours. 

Taehyung opens the bedroom door carefully, using the light of the hallway to check on your sleeping figure. Except that the bed is empty. 

“Darling?”

The room stays silent. He closes the door and scratches his head in confusion. Where did you go? Taehyung thinks of any possible location in the house, remembering the nursery last. Bear with him, he is very groggy from work. 

He makes his way to the nursery, eyes flitting to the faint lights instantly. He was correct. He increases his steps, heart fluttering unbearably. He hasn’t talked to you in days and now he finally gets the chance. Taehyung feels like a giddy boy who knows he can talk to his crush soon. 

He feels actually lost for air and words when he lays eyes on you.

You are wearing a mint green satin slip with a matching floor-length rope. Delicate lace frames the edges of the garments and little diamonds in the lace glimmer in the dim lights. You aren’t wearing any makeup and your hair is unstyled. Taehyung has never felt so in love with you before, gazing at you as you whisper-sing to your baby daughter. 

She is already sleeping soundly in her crib. You must have come in here to check up on her. 

Taehyung loves you so much. He will take any amount of stress if it means that he can come home to you looking like this. Like the mother of his daughter and the love of his life.

“Darling, I’m home”, he speaks softly.

You lift your head, features instantly lighting up.

“I haven’t heard your voice in days. Tae darling, welcome home”, you say, closing the distance in hasty steps.

Taehyung meets you in the middle with stretched out arms, grasping your soft waist in sync with you grasping his shoulders. You kiss. You kiss like two lovers finally reunited after being separated. You kiss as if you had worried to never see each other again. The kiss ends with Taehyung squeezing your butt softly and you twirling his tie.

“I missed you”, you confess.

“I missed you too. You’re beautiful, darling.”

“You think so? I already had to change because our princess threw up on me.”

“Oh god, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“Mhm, it was nasty at first, but I’m okay.” You scratch your fingers over his undercut at the nape of his neck. “I’m more than okay now that you’re home”, you say, smiling at him goofily. 

Taehyung’s heart flutters. He can’t help but giggle and poke your cheek with his nose.

“Stop flirting with me.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m shy.”

“That’s why I’m doing it. It’s fun and mommy’s gotta get her entertainment in.”

You are jokingly referring to yourself as mommy, but Taehyung feels tingly because of it nonetheless. His heart skips multiple beats and his knees are wobbly for just a second. Holy moly.

You sigh in contentment, oblivious to his state.

“We should be talking outside. We don’t wanna wake her.” 

“Right. Did mommy put her to sleep already?” he asks to play into the joke, but also to taste the sweetness of the words on his tongue.

You snicker, leading him out of the nursery with your arm around his waist.

“Yeah, mommy did”, you say, closing the door tightly. 

“You’re the best mommy”, Taehyung says, almost moaning the words. He gulps, looking to the side in panic when you don’t notice. He opens his tie a little, taking a deep breath. What is happening to him? Has he really been away from you for long enough that the mere playfulness is enough to turn him on? Is it the arm around him? The hand on his waist? The fingers which played with his tie? Is it your outfit or your natural beauty? Or is it this fucking word? Innocent but tonight it tastes sinful on his tongue. Taehyung doesn’t understand what is happening to him, but he can’t stop it. He craves to be close to you.

“But enough about me. How was your day, darling?” you ask him, oblivious to his racing thoughts. 

“Me? I”, he clears his throat. “Good, I mean, I don’t know. Kinda shit.”

You and he have reached the living room, sitting down on the couch together. You pull your legs up, turning to him so you are facing him. Taehyung glances for a second, having to swallow harshly. You aren’t wearing any panties. You are accidentally exposing yourself to him in this position. You move your arm, flinging the rope over your crotch mindlessly. The view disappears, but Taehyung is left with a scrambled mind. 

You scoot closer and weave your fingers through his styled hair. Taehyung shivers, eyes closing halfway as he gazes at you.

“I’m sorry to hear that you had a shitty day, darling. Do you wanna talk about it?” you ask in a soft and caring voice, eyes focused solely on him. 

Taehyung swears he might whimper any second now. 

“I just have so much to do. I guess, it’s been weighing me down”, he says.

“Of course it has. You’ve been working long hours lately. I was already worried for you.”

“It sucks”, he confesses honestly and pouts, “I only see you two when you’re sleeping, I don’t get to eat dinner with you or talk to you. I’ve been so lonely lately.”

“No, I’m sorry you feel this way. Gosh come here you”, you say and get on your knees to hug him. Your soft, swollen breasts squeeze against his chest. Taehyung takes in nothing else for just a second before his situation sinks in and he melts into your embrace. He buries his face in your neck, eyes closing and arms wrapping around you. You smell so good. He wanted to hold you like this for days. Just with this one hug you heal him of any kind of loneliness he felt and rid him of any pain he ever felt. 

“I’m here now, darling and I’m proud of you. You’ve been working so hard, I just wanna tell you that I’m proud of you.”

Taehyung tears up a little, squeezing you against him. 

“Thank you”, he whimpers. Not many people told him that they were proud of him in the past, but you always do. He always soaks up the praise like a greedy sponge. It feels so good to know that you are proud of him.

“Are you crying?” you gasp.

“No, just finally feeling good. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too”, you say and snicker which lets Taehyung know that you are going to crack a joke next. “Mommy missed you, darling.” 

You giggle mischievously, but Taehyung can’t see any humour in it. He feels fucked, pounded, railed, totally ruined just from this one sentence. If you took him, ripped his clothes off and fucked him violently right here and now, it would basically be the same thing. 

Taehyung twists the fabric of your rope and presses his lips against your soft neck.

“Mommy”, he whimpers. 

You tense up, smile dropping in shock. You know this voice. This is his sub drop voice. Your entire body tingles in realisation, heart skipping way too many beats. Damn your post pregnancy body, you are leaking already.

You test the waters carefully by humming a sound of acknowledgement, holding your breath. 

“Mommy, please take care of me.”

“What?” you breathe. 

Taehyung mewls and kisses your neck sloppily, long fingers digging into the silky fabric of your rope. You sigh, body going up in flames instantly. So this is how his neck kisses feel like. It has been too long since you last felt them.

Taehyung isn’t the only one who has been going a little crazy ever since he is home. You are just a woman and he is the hottest man ever. His dark styled hair, his styled eyebrows, his pretty eyes and his slim, sculpted body in a tailored suit; all of it has been doing their effects on you. You haven’t seen him in days, except in pictures and your dreams, so seeing him tonight all ruffled and ruined from work is doing things to you. His kiss makes you greedy, his body in your fingers almost mad. Feeling his perfect hands roam your torso and his soft lips kiss your neck is doing the rest. 

You are just a woman and he is a man, who knows exactly how to turn you on. 

Taehyung lifts his lips from your neck, brushing them against the shell of your ear.

“I’m going insane. You are so soft, Mommy. So soft”, he whispers and whimpers, tugging on your rope needily. 

You shed it off with a skilled touch, basking in his reaction. He moans, kissing your newly exposed shoulders while his hands grasp your upper back. They are so big and feel so warm. 

He shudders, exhaling shakily.

“Mommy, oh god…”

“Are you okay, baby?” 

“No, I’m feeling so submissive to you. I can’t think straight”, he gets out in a slightly pitched voice. 

“Shit, you’re sexy. Should Mommy take care of you, mhm?”

Taehyung moans, legs squeezing together needily. His cock is twitching in his slacks, soaking the fabric a little. You are into this as well. You are playing into his fantasy. 

“Please”, he begs, needing you like air.

“Mhm, okay. Lie down on my lap, yeah?” 

“Yes, Mommy.” 

You and he get into position. You sit on the sofa with your feet on the ground and he lies his head onto your lap. You caress his hair, smiling down at him.

“There we go. Are you comfy, my pretty boy?”

He nods his head, gazing up at you with a droopy head. He is so deep in subspace right now. So, so deep.

“I love to hear this. You’ve been working so hard, have been so stressed out. Let Mommy make it better again, okay?”

“Yes, Mommy”, he whimpers, falling even deeper.

“And you gotta help me out too. My tits are killing me tonight, they’re so heavy. Can you help me?” 

“Yes please”, he begs, barely seeing you at this point because you are scrambling his brain to the point of a blurry vision.

You smile at him and reach up to tug down the straps of your gown. The silky fabric slips down instantly, exposing your plumped up tits to him. 

Taehyung moans, fucking the air. 

“Go on, they’re all yours.”

Taehyung gathers them in his shaking hands and goes down on them with an open mouth. He trembles, eyes filling with tears. Your nipples are so swollen, sitting heavily on his tongue. He didn’t even realise how much he missed your breasts in his mouth until now. He whimpers, falling oh so deep into subspace that he won’t be able to escape anytime soon. 

You groan in relief, rolling your head back and parting your lips. Your tits were killing you. Even the mere fabric of your dress was painful against your nipples and your skin feels so stretched to its limits. Taehyung’s wet, warm mouth feels like pure heaven. He releases you of so much tension, so much pressure and so much pain that you could honestly cry. 

Taehyung is on a high, running on nothing but your sweet taste. He can’t decide on which side to stay, switching between them over and over again as he gets absolutely lost in you with tears down his cheeks and his cock hurting in his grey slacks. 

You take care of his big (quite literally) problem. With barely open eyes you watch your own hand as you open his belt and slacks with. Taehyung is too lost to notice. He also doesn’t notice when you push the flap of his briefs to the side. He does notice when you take his cock out however.

You pick up a pace instantly, fingers pumping him quickly. 

He sits up slightly in shock, head tilted back and messy mouth agape in a surprised moan. His eyes are widened, staring up at you.

“That feels nice, doesn’t it?” you ask him, massaging his heated tip.

Taehyung keens, spilling tears. It feels amazing. Your hand is so warm and so soft. Your touch is placed with so much love. He missed you so much and it feels so good. 

“Of course it does. Relax, yeah? Mommy is gonna relieve you of your pressure too, yeah?”

“Mommy”, he whimpers, dropping on your lap to bury himself back in your soft tits. He takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking hungrily. His cock throbs in your fingers, spilling excitement down his shaft. 

You pick it up, using it to jerk him off from the base to his tip. You are spilling down his throat too, feeling on cloud nine from the relief.

“Good boy, that feels amazing”, you praise him. You pick up speed, moving your hand up and down his entire shaft. Now that you finally have him again, you are going to make sure to memorise every single inch of him. Just in case he goes missing again. 

Taehyung whimpers, kicking the pillows. His mouth is so eager in how he sucks your nipples. You are getting so much pleasure from it that it is difficult not to moan each word you speak.

“Good boy, my good boy. You’re doing so well for Mommy.”

He can’t really describe how he feels right now, but he knows that he doesn’t want to leave this headspace. He feels safe, that much is sure. He feels horny and pleasured, of course that is a given. But in a sense, he also feels high and far away.  

This isn’t the first time that he gets to help you relieve your breasts of pressure. There is only so much your daughter can eat and only so much you can pump before it gets too much. Taehyung read in some of his countless pregnancy books that some wives like it when their husbands relieve them of the excess milk. He talked to you about it, you tried it and both loved it.

You because it genuinely helps with the soreness and pain and because he is so eager in his feast. Taehyung loves it because he gets to help you and be a good husband. His biggest fear is to end up being like his father, so when he gets to make you happy and help you instead of making you cry, very deep wounds heal on his heart. He loves it because he gets to be a good husband, he gets to be with you and share intimacy with you. And because you taste good.

You taste especially good tonight, making his head pound. Every single fiber in his body is submissive right now, charged in electricity because your touches feel really good.

Taehyung sobs, writhing on the sofa in his very distinct way which lets you know that he is going to orgasm way too soon. You spill on the couch because of it. He is so excited that he needs to climax. What a perfect boy he is.

“Do you wanna cum? Is Mommy making you cum?” you ask him, hand restless around his veiny shaft. 

Taehyung sobs again, kicking his feet helplessly. His cock is so hot and swollen between your fingers, you fear that it might burst like a balloon soon. He is so perfect. 

“You do? Then cum for me, okay? Cum for Mommy”, you encourage him, pumping his tip quickly.

Taehyung whimpers loudly, fulfilling your wish. He arches off the pillows, fingers dimpling your back as he grips you for support. His cock throbs angrily, shooting his cum all over his shirt and tie. 

He sobs into you. He was in so much agony, he felt so bad and stressed and lonely. He was so sad. All of this built up in his stomach as painful pressure and you are releasing him off it. This one orgasm is healing him and it feels so good that he has to sob.

You moan with him, soaking up the view like a starved woman. You missed him so much. You missed how he shakes and writhes. You missed how his cock is so pretty when it squirts cum. And you missed how he is gripping whatever he gets a hold of.

“You’re so pretty when you cum. So pretty for Mommy”, you coo, pumping his tip needily. You know that he isn’t climaxing anymore, but you need more. So much more.  

Taehyung reaches down hastily, pushing you away. He has had enough. You let off of him, caressing his twitching thighs instead. You need more, but need to hold back. It is so difficult. You want him so bad.

“Good boy, my good boy”, you praise him, trying to sound as normal as possible.

He pants and gulps for a few moments, clearly needing time to get back to you. His eyes open first, glassy and foggy they stare up at you.

“I’m sorry”, he croaks.

“For what?”

“I came too quickly. I didn’t mean to.”

“That’s okay, baby. Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Yes, so much”, he pouts, “thank you, Mommy.” 

“Hm, you’re welcome, cutie”, you say and boop his nose with a snicker.

He soaks up the sound like an addict, gazing up at you. He loves you so much. 

“I don’t want this to end”, he confesses. 

“Me neither, but you’re soft.”

“I’ll eat you out, please.”

You writhe, biting down on your lower lip. You whimper your consent, nodding your head. 

Taehyung rolls off the couch, not bothering to stuff his cock inside his slacks nor to clean up. He falls right between your legs, kneeling between them like a worshiper would before his goddess. He gazes up at you, drooling at this point.

“I saw your pussy when you sat down”, he confesses, eyes switching between your face and your exposed tits. They’re wet because his sucking made them leaky. 

“Sorry?” you gasp.

“Your pussy. You’re not wearing any panties. I saw.”

“You did?” 

“Yes, Mommy”, he whimpers.

“Well fuck”, you chuckle and open your legs, tugging the dress up your butt so you were completely exposed, “no need to hide then.”

Taehyung groans, tongue dripping drool as he gawks at you like a hungry dog. 

“Whenever you’re read-” 

He interrupts you by burying his face in your pussy with a hungry growl. He doesn’t waste any time going slow, lapping up your sweet nectar greedily. 

You moan, dropping your head on the edge of the backrest and burying your hand in his hair. You lift your legs, placing them over his shoulders. He supports them by wrapping his arms around them, hands spreading out on your inner thighs. 

“That’s it, holy fuck”, you moan, toes curling in ecstasy. You have been incredibly sensitive ever since you gave birth. One night you even confessed to him that you worried something was wrong with you because his touch felt so good to you. Taehyung called a doctor the next day who told him that this could happen and shouldn’t be reason for concern unless it becomes uncomfortable. When Taehyung then proceeded to ask what he could do to help, the doctor told him that the answer would be inappropriate but that Taehyung knows exactly what to do as your husband and to do it right. You laughed so hard when he confessed the phone call to you and how the doctor basically told him to just fuck you right. But that night, you soon couldn’t laugh anymore when Taehyung followed the doctor’s orders and fucked you so goddamn right. 

Ever since then, Taehyung has been practically insane in his skills, regularly bringing you to the point of a liquid brain and a wobbly body. Tonight is no different. He uses his entire mouth on your pussy, switching between licking and sucking every inch of you. He also switches between your clit and your folds, sometimes lingering on your entrance as well. 

“Tae more”, you beg during a moment he pulls his tongue away from your leaking hole. He lifts his head for a moment, checking for consent. You are blissed out, leaky tits heaving up and down and face glowing in bliss. Taehyung moans. 

He looks back at your pussy, gathering his saliva so he could spit on you. He picks up the slick, stuffing it into your pussy a moment later as he buries three of his fingers inside your swollen walls. You arch off the sofa, twisting his hair just enough that there is a tug present but no pain. Taehyung doesn’t like pain and you never disrespect this limit, even if he is currently making you see stars.

“Holy fuck Taeeeee….” 

Taehyung connects his sloppy mouth with your clit again, fucking his fingers out of you vigorously.

You practically curl up into a ball, thighs against your chest and ankles crossed. He is too good. You can’t handle the pleasure any other way.

“I can’t breathe, Mommy”, he lulls against you.

“Fuck, sorry, ahm.”

Weakly, you unravel yourself again, putting your feet on his shoulders and your own hands on his own thighs to force your legs to stay open. You grip your own flesh a second later when Taehyung fucks his fingers into you quickly, flicking his tongue over your clit just as quickly. He moans as he does it, forcing a loud noise of pleasure out of you. 

Your toes grip his shoulders, your nails leave imprints on your thighs. 

“Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck”, you chant, seeing entire galaxies. 

Taehyung mewls and growls, spitting on his fingers hastily before his tongue dances on your clit again. The slip is so wet and messy. He doesn’t have his palm facing up, but sideways, allowing his long fingers to go so deep that you honestly feel stuffed to the brim. 

You can’t do this. Taehyung isn’t the only one who had too much pressure built up in his stomach. 

“I’m cumming”, you croak, breaking apart a second later. “Tae! Ah!”

Taehyung moans, swallowing your orgasm hungrily. He moves his fingers and tongue just right, helping you ride out the blissful warmth until you tell him to stop.

With shaking knees, he climbs onto the couch again. You don’t change position, letting him kneel on the pillow with one leg while the other was still on the floor. 

You kiss messily, sloppily. He tastes like your squirt, you taste like bliss. You are both gone, moaning and gulping each other up as best as possible. Going days without talking nor seeing each other was torture. Going even longer without sex is literally the reason why you are acting like animals right now. 

“I need you to fuck me”, you break the kiss, hands on the nape of his neck. 

“Yes, Mommy. Please.”

“Good boy, do it.”

Taehyung nods his head vigorously and stands up. He takes off his pants and briefs, but keeps his ruined shirt on. You get into position in the meantime, kneeling on the couch with your stomach against the backrest and your butt facing him. 

He moans at the view but doesn’t acknowledge it any further because he is too needy for you. You look at him over your shoulder, grabbing his tie to tug him closer.

“You’re mine. Mommy’s pretty boy.”

“Holy fuck, Mommy”, he moans, spilling submissive tears. His chest melts with your back, his arms cage you in as he lets you pull him into a kiss. His right hand is on your stomach at first, caressing it, but soon slips to your exposed tits to knead them eagerly. He has one knee on the sofa and the other foot on the floor. You moan and mewl, tongue kissing him back eagerly while your left hand dances down to align his newly hardened cock with your dripping pussy. Once he is, you push your hips back, swallowing him whole. 

The kiss breaks because Taehyung broke it in a submissive moan, swollen lips pressing against your cheek. 

“That’s it. Filling up Mommy so well…”

“Mommy…”

“So pretty, you sound so pretty when you call me that.”

He bottoms out. You instantly begin rutting into him, fucking his cock fast and sloppily.

His right hand slips from your tits, gripping the backrest as well. His normally deep voice comes out a high-pitched whimper, face dropping into the crook of your shoulder. 

He drives you mad. You drop your head to the front, twisting his grey tie. It feels so good to fuck yourself on him. He is such a good dildo. The way his cock curves is so perfect for positions like tonight’s. You are getting stimulated at the deepest spots, making you wish that he could fucking live in you. 

Taehyung is a mess behind you, drooling on your shoulder and spilling constant tears of pleasure. He knew that he missed you, that the long hours in his lonely office made him needy, but he wasn’t aware of how bad it actually was. He knows that he should be moving his hips right now, but he can’t. He is frozen in too much pleasure, reduced to serve as your dildo to fuck yourself on as he tries not to pass out in the process.

“Good boy, good fucking boy. Mommy’s good boy”, you chant, riding on a literal high. 

“Mommyyy”, he keens, throbbing inside you. 

“Soo good. Touch my clit.”

Taehyung obeys, moaning with you as you tighten around his cock.

“Good boy, ah!” you throw your head back, fucking him faster. The position you find yourself in, makes your tits naturally hang over the edge of the sofa. They are hurting from not being touched.

“Actually, changed my mind. Touch my fucking tits. They’re so heavy.”

Taehyung obeys instantly, holding your swollen tits in his big hands. 

“Good boy. Fuck yes, hold Mommy’s heavy tits. Fuck baby…”

Taehyung bites your shoulder, hips stuttering as your words make them work against his will. No wonder he got you pregnant. Taehyung always forgets how good you are at sex and how much power you have over him until he is balls deep inside you and you literally ruin him. No wonder you managed to get yourself pregnant on him, when you fuck like this it is bound to happen that Taehyung nuts in you as deep as his seed can go and it actually fucking works. There is no way around it. 

“Mommy, it’s too much”, he sobs.

“Too much? Need a break?” 

“No. No, just too much. Too good. Aaah.” 

“Mmh so good. Mommy’s so proud of you, baby. You’re fucking me so well”, you praise, fingers rubbing your clit vigorously. 

“I have to cum again, Mommy.”

“Don’t hold back, fill me up.” You encourage him with clenches of your walls. “Make me a Mommy again.”

Taehyung breaks instantly, and with such utter need that he accidentally pins you against the sofa to rut into you. The praise you wanted to moan gets knocked out of you, loud wails replace it. Your eyes go cross, your limbs shake. He is fucking you just right, making your walls tremble as he fills them with his creamy cum. 

He wants to slow down afterwards but you stop him with a yelp.

“Don’t stop! I’m close!”

Taehyung somehow growls and whimpers at the same time, hands kneading your tits to the point they leak against their will. His cock aches, but he can’t stop. Not when his beautiful, soft wife is so close to an explosive orgasm. He knows how sensitive you are, how much sex you need, how he had neglected you unwillingly. He needs to serve and please and submit to your pleasure to finally make up for what you had to miss out on.

“Mommy, my cock is so sensitive. Oh god Mommy”, he is still whining about his condition, crying into your shoulder. 

“Soon. Soon. Please harder. Everything.”

Taehyung understands. He bites your shoulder again, speeding up his hips as he slams his cummy cock into your creamed walls repeatedly. He squeezes your tits harder, rubbing your swollen nipples between his fingers vigorously. 

“Tae!” you scream, breaking apart simultaneously. It feels so good that you can’t tell if it started in your pussy, in your clit or in your nipples. All you know is that it makes you writhe and shake and sob because you haven’t had this kind of orgasm in so long. Taehyung fucks you through it, seeing light as he fears for his life. He keeps going despite all that, fucking you so good that have to squirt a second time, soiling his legs and the sofa with it. 

“Urgh woah”, you let out once then give up, dropping into the backrest which forces his cock to slip out of you. You spill his cum instantly, groaning in relief. 

Taehyung drops beside you into the sofa, burying his hands in his hair to twist it in disbelief. He can barely even breathe. What the fuck was this?

You pant next to him, feeling shocked as well. 

It takes the two of you a while to recover from what just happened. The sex was just too intense and your bodies are too broken. 

You are the one to end the forced silence.

“Are you okay?” 

“I don’t know”, he whispers.

You and he turn your head slowly, locking eyes. 

“I think I can’t move.”

“Me neither.”

You break first, Taehyung follows, showing you his prettiest boxy smile as he laughs with you wholeheartedly. You manage to get out of your trance as you laugh, falling into each other’s arms to hug.

“This was actually insane”, you say.

“Yeah, oh god, I can’t believe you let me call you Mommy.”

“Not gonna lie that was like super hot and sexy. I don’t know what this says about me. Or us for that matter.” 

“That we’ll do it again one day?”

You lift your head to meet his gaze. He is giving you the cutest puppy eyes ever. 

“Mhm definitely.” You cradle his flushed cheek, caressing his heated skin. “You’re actually the cutest and hottest man at the same time. I think I might be pregnant again just because you’re so sexy.”

He laughs, eyes glimmering shyly.

“Don’t say that”, he mumbles, playing with his own hair giddily. 

“I mean it. Gosh you, you’re the best. Mwuah”, you say, giving him a big smooch. 

He giggles, kicking his feet happily. You giggle with him, hugging him against your chest. 

“You also seriously helped me with my tits. I thought that they would burst tonight.”

He hums, closing his eyes as he seeks your scent and rubs your back.

“I love helping you. Knowing that I can relieve some of that pressure is all I want.” 

“You are helping, so much.” 

You and he share a nice silence where you hug each other. It is so healing to be with each other. You love each other so much. 

Taehyung’s rumbling stomach breaks the silence. You lift your head, meeting his embarrassed gaze.

“Are you hungry?” 

“Did you hear my stomach?” 

“Loud and clearly.”

Taehyung pouts, and huffs out air, “I haven’t eaten since lunch. I’m so hungry.” 

“That’s not good. Luckily for you, Misses Choi made dinner before she left. Come on, we’ll clean up and then eat it together.”

“Really?” he gasps, eyes lighting up at the aspect of finally having dinner with you again.

“Of course. We have so many lost dinners to make up for and I’m hungry again. I’m always hungry lately.”

Taehyung giggles, letting you pull him to his feet so he could follow you to the bathroom hand in hand. 

He came home grumpy tonight, but even the concept of this emotion is gone from his heart now that he can finally be with you again. Oh he is going to cuddle you so, so good tonight.

[pedropascallme]

Deny Me

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x f!Reader

Summary: “'I’m fine,' you squared your shoulders, as if adjusting your posture was all it would take to convince the men around you that you were sturdy. 'I could understand a couple weeks—I could understand a month. But six weeks is—that’s appalling. It's not fair.'”

Warnings: Allusions to smut (masturbation) (minors DNI!!!!), canon typical violence, detailed descriptions of wounds, hospital imagery, allusions to PTSD, reader experiences panic attacks and a bout of depersonalization, smoking, implied age gap (ages not mentioned), enemies to frenemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, I know little to nothing about how the military works, if I missed anything please let me know!!

AN: So. Um. Never played COD. Barely understand the various plot lines it follows. But I DO understand that a man in a mask is inherently sexy. And that is my truth! Part two here <3

You hated Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley.

With every fiber of your being, you hated him.

You hated how he was so quick to pull rank; how swiftly his friends became his subordinates.

You hated the way he always spoke with such a cold, calculated indifference.

You hated the way he squared his shoulders to remind everybody of his stature; his status.

You hated his Britishisms, the way the pet names rolled off his tongue in your direction. And from anybody else, you might be fine with it, but when he called you sweetheart it made your stomach roll over itself.

You couldn’t tell why.

You hated how rookies acted as if he were some semi-legendary Adonis beneath his stupid fucking mask—which you’d also grown to hate.

You knew what he looked like under the balaclava; under the skull faceplate that made his eyes look so sunken and so attentive.

And who cares that his features matched so nicely? Who cares that his profile was just as carved as the rest of him? Who cares that the deep scars that crisscrossed over his left cheek looked almost silver under the fluorescent lighting of the barracks?

It didn’t matter that he was handsome. It didn’t matter that it was his face you thought about late at night, alone in your bed.

Certainly, he was no Adonis.

You hated the smirk in his voice, and the crease between his eyes, and the piercing edge of his gaze.

You hated that you knew, deep down, that your dislike of him was born out of convenience; that you loathed him for all the reasons that, in another life, you would’ve thrown yourself at him with open arms.

You hated that you knew you had become dead set on despising him because it was easier than the alternative.

He was an acquaintance, at best—a coworker you’d grab a beer with, under different circumstances. Mostly, though, he was a pain in the ass, and a detriment to your sanity.

You hated Ghost more by the second.

So why was it that, as you came to, bleeding out on the hard ground, he was the only thing you could think about.

You heard voices above you, a droning cacophony of accents and alarm that overlapped with each other, dissolving as they mingled with the ringing in your ears.

“Took a beating—”

“—fucking exploded before we—"

“—man down, but she’s—”

“—was beyond fucked.”

“She’s breathing,” you recognized Kyle’s voice above the panicked yelling. “Soap—she’s up.”

The first thing you noticed was how dry your mouth was, and a viscidness that clung to your side.

You tried to sit up, pushing back on your elbows against the dirt beneath you, and were met with a sharpness that ran up your lungs. You winced, coughing dry pain.

Your vision was blurry—almost watery, as if you were trapped beneath a sheet of ice and looking up through it. Still, you managed to track Gaz’s movements as he approached at a cautious speed to kneel beside you.

“Don’t move—” He held his hands out in front of him, trying to encourage you to lie still without having to touch you. “Where’s the worst of it?”

You stared at him blankly, only half registering his words.

“Everywhere,” you wheezed, and there was that same pain shooting up your lungs again, back with a vengeance. You squeezed your eyes shut, “Ribs. Left side.”

“Johnny!” Gaz’s voice carried in a way that made your skull vibrate, and you shuddered.

“C’mere, lass,” even in your sorry state, Soap’s accent was hard to miss. He gave Gaz a pat on the shoulder, encouraging him to stand and replacing him by your side. “Take yer kit off.”

“Buy me—me a fucking…” you heaved, “Drink…first…”

“Aye, she’s fine!” Johnny laughed, throwing a smile over his shoulder, though the wrinkles near his eyes weren’t deep enough for it to be sincere. “Yer bleedin’. Need t'let me dress the wound, Sergeant.”

You stared up at him, possibly concussed; definitely shell-shocked.

You swallowed the bile that rose in the back of your throat, trying to remember how you’d gotten here.

There had been open fire; there had been movement, and a tense argument between yourself and Ghost about who should lead the charge; there had been a brief period of satisfaction after you’d convinced him to let you stay up front.

There had been landmines.

“Nae, look here, lass—stay awake,” Soap snapped his fingers in front of your face. You must have begun to fade out when you tried to recall the details. He reached to unclip your chest rig, “Yer kit—”

“No.” you shook your head, and it made you feel like vomiting, but you didn’t stop. You felt a deep-seated dread pulse down your spine, and you needed answers.

You needed one answer.

“LT?” You looked at Soap, who stared back at you with a sympathetic frown, confused. “Where’s—where’s Ghost?”

“Oi,” a heavy boot stomped the dirt a few inches above your head, “Look up.”

And there he was—seemingly unscathed. It made your stomach burn, a sloppy mixture of frustration and something else. Maybe disappointment, maybe embarrassment.

Maybe.

If he had done things his way, it would probably be him on the ground right now. And if you could just hurry up and die, you wouldn’t have to eat your words about being able to front the line.

How long had he been standing there, anyway?

Your voice was shaky as you addressed him.

“Want—” you rasped, “Want you to do it.”

Soap exhaled audibly through his nose, glancing up at Simon with sharp eyes through a furrowed brow.

If words were exchanged, you didn’t hear them; and when Ghost took Johnny’s spot on the ground next to you, you didn’t see it happen, once again fading out.

“Gotta open your fuckin’ eyes, sweetheart.” Ghost’s words snapped you back to attention. He said it as if he were chastising you for forcing your way to the front of the line and, successively, getting yourself blown up.

You wanted to argue, tell him it was his fault for yielding to your demands, but all you could do was look up at him while he stripped you of your chest rig and pressed down hard around the sticky spot on your side. The action made your muscles flex, and you clenched your jaw through the unbearable pain that ran through you.

You might’ve grabbed at his forearm, but your body was numbing itself too quickly to register your own movements.

The last thing you saw were his eyes, almost frantic as he scanned your body.

But it couldn’t have been real fear—likely a figment of your imagination. Something to focus on as your body grew colder. Probably just a trick of the mask.

You wanted to rip it off.

~~~

You woke hesitantly.

You felt cold, but it was only skin deep; nothing like the chill that had infiltrated your bones when you’d started losing blood.

With a shallow sigh, you opened your eyes.

The infirmary.

You felt a level of reassurance in knowing that, if you died now, at least it would be in the comfort of a medical cot and not on the ground in the middle of nowhere.

There was an IV stuck into the crook of your elbow, padded with cotton and medical tape to keep it in place. You couldn’t feel it, but you winced at the thought of the needle in your arm, and the bruises that were scattered around it.

“Morning.” You registered Gaz sitting on a chair next to the cot.

You breathed, happy to see him. He didn’t look tired, didn’t look concerned—you wondered if you had even been here for more than a few hours.

You shifted, propping yourself up with your pillow. The pain that had been plaguing your side seemed to have been reduced to a dull pulse, but you still huffed at the feeling as you resituated yourself.

There was a piece of fabric—a shirt—draped over your stomach that you didn’t recognize. You tugged at a loose string on the hem, noticing the blood stains that had crusted over the material.

It didn’t bother you; it was probably your blood.

“Hi.” You smiled halfheartedly at Kyle, who watched on as you made yourself comfortable.

“How ya feelin’?” He tilted his head forward, smiling back at you.

Gaz was one of the few people you had bothered to get close to.

It wasn’t on purpose, and it wasn’t as if you put effort into shutting everybody else out—Gaz was just easier.

As much as you appreciated Soap’s friendship, and Price’s guidance, Gaz had the innate ability to listen. He knew when to shut up, and when to keep himself scarce; he knew when to add his two cents, and when to make himself available. He managed to be kind and collected, even in the most outrageous of scenarios, and you found him to be a tranquil presence in an otherwise stressful line of work.

Maybe it was because he was closest in age to you; maybe it was because he knew where to get cigarettes; maybe it was just the urge you had to form a bond, to experience the type of friendship that was always depicted in old Vietnam War movies.

Whatever it was, Kyle was the closest friend you’d ever had in any platoon. And you appreciated him immensely.

“Like I got blown up.” Your smile morphed into something more sincere, and Gaz laughed quietly.

“Happens.”

“Sucks,” you responded pointedly. “But I feel better than I did.”

Gaz just nodded, his lips still curled into a soft smile.

The doors to the infirmary opened with a loud scrape against the linoleum of the floor, and Soap walked in carrying a tray of paper coffee cups. He tsked at the sound of the doors, cringing slightly as they swung shut and produced the same grating sound.

“Christ, haud yer wheesht.” Soap muttered, toeing the scratch on the floor before squaring his shoulders and making his way to your bedside.

“Come bearing gifts, Johnny?” You watched him put the tray down on your cot’s side table.

“Bottoms up, lass.” Soap handed you one of the cups, and you popped the lid off to hasten the cooling process of the coffee.

The aroma of the drink on its own was enough to perk you up, and you smiled at the men who sat beside you.

“You Irish it up?” You quirked a brow, smiling at Johnny as he sipped his own coffee.

“Scots have a bit more, eh, practicality than that.” He smirked.

“And I wouldn’t let him.” Gaz chuckled, blowing gently on his own coffee.

The three of you drank in silence. The coffee was black, bitter, but it warmed you up and helped you relocate your senses.

“So,” you popped the lid back onto your cup, putting it onto the tray that Soap had left on the side table. “How’d I end up here?”

“Passed out before evac,” Gaz sighed into his coffee, clearly not too keen on having you relive the series of events. “Got you here without much trouble.”

“Aye, y’were fine,” Soap finished the rest of his coffee and tossed the paper cup into the trashcan nearest to your bed. “Wound was shallower than we thought. Fucked up yer ankle, mild burns, couple cracked ribs, but—” He gestured to your chest, which was mostly bandaged. “Fixed ye up nice.”

You looked down at your body, really taking it in for a moment.

Your chest felt heavy, constricted by the bandages that covered your ribs and side, and your ankle was wrapped, but looked much less serious. There was something sticky on the irritated portions of your skin, probably bacitracin.

“What’s this?” You finally brought attention to the shirt that still rested on your lap.

“Ghost’s.” Soap didn’t explain.

“Couldn’t find anything to wrap ya up with—fucking disaster out there,” Gaz picked up Johnny’s slack, “Used his shirt instead. Couldn’t let you bleed out, though I doubt you would’ve, either way.”

The image of Simon removing so much of his kit just to get to the t-shirt beneath it in the middle of an evac zone made you smile. You tried not to dwell on the heat that crept into your abdomen.

That explained why it was covered in blood, at least.

You nodded, sighing. “I wasn’t out long, then?”

Soap pursed his lips, almost smiling. You looked at Kyle for a straight answer.

“How long have I been here?”

“Day and a half…maybe—little more like two,” Gaz smiled sheepishly. “They’ve had you pumped full of everything. Morphine, the works.”

“Knocked ye out good.” Soap laughed.

“Better than dying.” You sighed, shaking your head. You reached out for your coffee again, finishing it in a gulp before passing the cup off to Soap to toss it for you.

“Chest feels alright?” Gaz took the lull in conversation to ask again about your state of being.

“Tight, but…” The ache was still there, and the bandages were a bit snug, but you could manage. “Yeah. Feels ok…”

“Just rest.” Gaz still didn’t look worried, and that made you feel more at ease with the situation.

“Haven’t a thing goin’ on, next few days.” Soap nodded, doubling down on Kyle’s suggestion that you commit to relaxing.

The doors to the infirmary scraped against the floor again, but you didn’t bother looking at who had opened them, assuming it was a nurse coming in to check your IV or replace your bandages.

Soap and Gaz briefly made eye contact, glancing at each other in their peripheral after watching the doors open, but you ignored it as reflexive; a nod to each other in support of their insistence that you rest.

“And after that?” You knew you were looking too far ahead—you didn’t even know how long it took ribs to heal—but a little taste of optimism from your friends would be encouraging.

“You’re out of commission.”

The deep Manchester growl rattled your train of thought, and you turned to look at Simon, who stood in front of the doors.

“What?” You looked at him incredulously—surely he couldn’t be trying to punish you for nearly getting killed; surely you had misheard.

“You’re not goin’ back out there.” Simon’s eyes flickered over your body before he let his razor-edged gaze land on your face.

“Just—with the state yer in, lass—” Soap tried to soften the blow, brows furrowing into a gentle expression.

“Not in any state.” Ghost finally moved from his spot by the doors, and in several brisk strides he was by your bedside.

You tried to chalk it up to the fact that you were lying down, but you couldn’t help but feel as though he was looming.

“You were out o’line.” You could practically see his sneer beneath the balaclava, lip curling into an ugly, twisted shape as he lay into you.

And for what?

For the first time since waking up, there was a shock running down your body; not out of any physical discomfort, but out of pure rage.

“I was doing what I enlisted to do.” You huffed, folding your arms over your chest and trying to ignore the twinge of your muscles as bruised flesh rested on bruised flesh.

He stared at you for a moment; unmoving, unblinking.

“You join the army to get y'self killed?” He said it like he thought it was funny, and that’s what really did it for you.

He could’ve excluded you from any ops in the near future. He could’ve yelled until he was red in the face about how your stubbornness and lack of awareness consistently and unnecessarily put you in harm’s way.

That much you could’ve understood. Respectively, it made sense; it was true.

But the edge of mirth in his voice as he mocked you whilst you lay drugged-up in the infirmary made your blood boil, and the morphine could do nothing to stop that.

“You can’t do that.”

In an effort to save face, you turned your attention back to Soap and Gaz, trying to shut Simon out.

“He can’t do that,” you searched their eyes for signs of support, something you could leverage, “We have a pecking order. Price has to—to...”

Your sentence fell off when you saw Soap giving Ghost a pointed look, Gaz staring at the floor, frowning.

“It’s only six weeks,” Kyle tried to highlight the silver lining, looking back up at you and giving you a timespan to consider, “Just till we can be absolutely sure you’re okay.”

“We…” Soap sighed, still looking at Simon with a subtle glare, “It’s just to make sure yer in the best shape possible, lass—nothin’ personal.” He chanced a glance at you, smiling, and you scoffed.

Taking a deep breath, you turned to stare straight ahead at the foot of the cot. “Your idea, Lieutenant?”

Simon stared down at you, saying nothing, but when you side-eyed him you could see a glint of something in his eyes that told you everything you needed to know: It had definitely been his idea.

Even if you had only been bruised, you were certain that he would've suggested the same timeframe for you to stay on bed rest, under the guise of healthcare. A sadistic form of punishment that saw you wasting away while your friends continued business as usual.

“You’re being irrational,” you scowled at him, letting your arms drop down to your stomach to give your chest a break from supporting them. “And—not for nothing—kind of a dick.”

“Easy, Sergeant.” He glared down at you.

“I’m fine,” you squared your shoulders, as if adjusting your posture was all it would take to convince the men around you that you were sturdy. “I could understand a couple weeks—I could understand a month. But six weeks is—that’s appalling. It's not fair.”

“Life’s not fair, sweetheart.” Ghost, too, squared his shoulders, and it had the effect he surely desired; you shrunk into yourself slightly. “You wanna talk about appalling? You let me know when you ‘ave to dig shrapnel out of a subordinate.”

He turned on his heel without so much as a nod towards Soap and Gaz, and you felt just as upset about his disregard of them as his vitriol towards you.

“Lieutenant!” You called after him, “Ghost!” You were aware that the conversation was over, but you were still keen to argue. “Simon!”

The doors swung open and shut again with the same piercing scrape against the floor.

You glared at the doors, your disgust at Simon heightened in your state of exhaustion.

“Johnny?” You didn’t look back at Soap, still focusing your anger on the doors.

“Aye.”

“More coffee.”

~~~

A week later, you were back on your feet.

The nurses had given you enough ibuprofen to last a lifetime, maybe two, and then they sent you on your way.

The hurt was still there; every time you coughed; every time you stretched your left arm too suddenly, but it was fading.

It wasn’t really the pain that bothered you now. It was more so the waking worries, the shakiness of your breath, and the way you jerked awake each night in a frenzy of twisted blankets and sweat and nausea.

You tried to suck it up; you were hardly the first soldier to have an experience like this. You tucked your head between your knees when you had to, but never your tail between your legs.

You refused your need for help. You refused to acknowledge any weakness.

You hated the notion that this stretch of forced bed rest was only proving a dismal point; you weren’t cut out for the task force. The people that whispered in the halls about you being nothing more than something for the men to look at were likely finding their evidence in this extreme shortcoming of yours.

You kept your distance from Simon in order to avoid any further conflict. But he always did a good job of making himself unavailable, even at the best of times, so you hadn’t had to tiptoe around the barracks.

You walked into the mess hall on a whim. Your appetite was still mostly touch-and-go, but you knew the least you could do for yourself after everything was eat.

Gaz waved you over to the usual table, and you set your tray down across from Johnny.

“Need a new callsign.”

“Don’t like Bravo-Nine?” Gaz looked at you over a spoonful of applesauce.

“No, not—you know what I mean. Soap; Gaz; Ghost; Berserker.”

You’d been doing a lot of thinking over the course of the week; maybe Berserker wasn’t you.

And you’d laughed at the thought initially—of course she wasn’t you. That was the whole point. She was a projection, symbolic of you. It’s not like Simon was Ghost.

You had rolled your eyes at the comparison, trying to stifle any more thoughts of him.

Eventually, you’d decided that the ritualistic version of yourself was inadequate—or perhaps you were inadequate to call her a representative.

You were no Berserker. You were the Sergeant who cracked three ribs in one go after going in blind and setting off a landmine.

"Hard thing to change," Gaz quirked a brow, "Sticks with you."

“It’s a good name.” Soap picked at his fingers.

“Feels wrong now,” you tried to explain, “A berserker would’ve been able to handle some scrapes.”

“A berserker would jump’t the chance to run onto a landmine.” Johnny countered with a smirk.

“Thought about your other options?” Gaz spoke up again, stopping an argument before it had the chance to begin.

He was always good at that.

“What about, uh…” He tilted his head back, squinting at the ceiling as he tried to come up with something.

“Tits McGee?” Soap laughed at his own suggestion.

You flicked a pea from your tray at him, but it veered off track and hit Gaz in the cheek.

“Oi!” Gaz wiped the moist spot it had left on his face with his hand, cringing. “No friendly fire at the lunch table.”

Soap barked a laugh, and you kicked him under the table as you stifled your own laughter.

“What’re you lot on about?”

And there was Simon.

Always when you least expected him; ready and willing to ruin a good time.

Ghost sat down next to you like it was nothing; like he hadn’t just chewed you out a few days earlier for nearly dying.

He was taking up too much space—at the table and in your head. You tried to ignore him, but your smile wavered.

“She’s changing her callsign.” Soap gestured to you with his chin.

“Doesn’t feel like a true berserker,” Gaz smiled, eyes darting between you and Ghost. “Tell him.”

Kyle knew how upset you were, and he had said he wouldn’t get in the middle of it. But it was clear that he was now attempting to take on the role of peacekeeper, if only to keep mealtime pleasant.

You shot Simon a sidelong glance, nodding in response to Gaz’s prompt. You didn’t want to grace the Lieutenant with a verbal reply. He didn’t deserve one.

“I suggested Tits McGee.” Johnny smirked into his drinking glass, and this time you stomped on his foot under the table. He winced through a chuckle.

“Fair idea.” Ghost huffed out what could’ve been mistaken as a laugh.

You grit your teeth.

“What about something…scarier…?” Gaz spoke as the thought came to him, looking at you again. “Give Ghost a run for his money.”

Soap swallowed the water in his mouth, eager to toss out suggestions.

“Reaper.” He let his voice drop an octave for emphasis.

“Spirit.” Gaz quirked a brow at you, expectantly, as he silently asked for your input.

“She wouldn’t wear it right.” Simon shook his head, crossing his arms.

Your nails bit against your palms. It seemed like you couldn’t do anything right, as far as he was concerned.

“Shut up.” It came out muttered and withdrawn, but it felt good to get it out all the same.

“You ‘ave something t’say, love?” Simon looked down his shoulder at you, and the moment you looked back up at him, you knew you’d made a mistake in thinking you could keep it together.

“Yeah,” you glared, standing from the table. “Fuck you.”

You left without clearing your tray.

~~~

You never thought you’d find a barracks bed so spacious, but your own bed felt huge compared to the medical cot you’d recuperated in.

You pressed the heels of your palms against your eyelids, appreciating the silence and warring with yourself about why you always let Ghost get under your skin the way you did.

You heaved a sigh, stretching your arms out. You made sure to rest your left arm at a more practical angle even when you extended it.

Relief for the rest of your body wasn’t worth the jolt in your side.

After the incident at lunch, you fell into a repetitive pattern; mind wandering to Simon, chastising yourself for letting him live so comfortably in your head, then trying to focus on something—anything—else.

And you didn’t appreciate the way your body reacted to the thoughts of him, warmth swelling in your stomach and fingertips grazing your waistband.

It was a losing battle.

He had the ability to be kind, and it was a rarity, but a welcome one.

When you’d started as a rookie, you understood why people worshipped him; he was strong, capable, and, for the most part, managed to stay humble.

He was competent. And that was nice.

For a while, even you had fallen victim to the cult of personality that trailed him—it was hard not to.

He was just a person, a soldier like any other, but he could seem like so much more than that at times. You admired him, his drive, his passion.

He was merciless in his work ethic, unforgiving in his reproach, but he had his moments.

You’d knocked on his door early on into your time at the base.

It was nothing more than a work-related rendezvous, impromptu but necessary; you had reports he needed, and that was all. But you still felt a sort of buzz, a sense of pride nipping at your heels for being trusted enough to take on a task as menial as paperwork.

He’d opened the door, and you’d been left to stare up at him.

“What’s'is?” He nodded his chin down at your hands.

“I—the reports you needed,” you handed them to him, “They’re all in proper order.” You hesitated, “I think.”

He had stared down at you.

“You think?”

“No, I…I know. They are.” You didn’t want to be overly confident, but you did feel as though the reports looked good—better than good, even.

“Good to be certain.” He’d folded the reports, almost fidgeting with the paper.

“Yeah,” you nodded, unsure of what to say now. “It’s...all there.”

There was another pause. He let your words hang in the air, leaving you to stand awkwardly in the threshold of his room.

“But, uh—that’s all,” you nodded again, trying not to squirm in the silence he created. You looked at the ground. “Thanks for…trusting me, Simon.”

You turned to walk back to your own room, but he cleared his throat.

“Simon?” He seemed confused, and for a moment you wondered if you had gotten his name wrong, “We on a first name basis, love?”

“I just—that’s your name…” You'd probably gone pale at that point, but you tried to recover. “I figured, I mean, in your own room…do you want to be Lieutenant?” You stuttered through an explanation.

He had narrowed his eyes at you then, but there was no malice in his gaze; if anything, he just seemed more confused than he had been.

“Ghost is fine…” He spoke as if he were questioning himself.

“But you’re not Ghost,” you doubled down, smiling sheepishly, “I mean—not here, you’re not. Not to me.”

“Why?”

“I don’t really think of you as Ghost unless we’re…out, somewhere,” you tried to sound nonchalant, but the words spilled out as you tried to avoid the repercussions of disrespecting a superior officer. “And—I dunno. You’re kinda scary when you’re Ghost. Your name…suits you…”

You searched his eyes, still trying to read whether his bewilderment would morph into anger.

“It humanizes you. And I…I like that.” 

“You like Simon.”

“Yeah.”

He shifted his weight. “A’right.”

You waited for more, but it never came.

“Yeah,” you repeated, finally finding the willpower to walk away. “Goodnight, Simon.”

“G’night.” He watched you leave before shutting the door.

You couldn’t help but smile at the memory, despite yourself. So you tried to remember what had made you hate him in the first place, just to torment yourself further.

It had been the day following that conversation.

He had been brusque, finding you in a common area with Gaz, playing a watered-down version of blackjack—no bets, just yelling and laughing as you continued to fall short.

“Redo them.”

“What?” You’d looked up from your hand.

“Redo them.” He repeated as he dropped the stack of reports onto the table in front of you.  

The reports you had been so excited to hand over to him.

“But what’s—”

“Fix. Them.” He’d gritted out, and you didn’t have the strength to look him in the eyes. “And be fucking certain they’re in order this time, sweetheart.”

“O—ok…” You conceded to his demand and rested your palm on the stack of paper in a gesture of submission.

He walked out without another word, leaving you to stare down at the reports he’d returned to you, feeling well and truly insufficient.

You had decided, in that moment, that you hated Ghost. And you hated Simon Riley just as much.

You had never been able to figure out why exactly he had switched up the way he had; if you had done something to get on his bad side, if it was delayed payback for calling him by his name. No matter how curious you got, you never asked, simply putting him on your bad side, too, just to keep things fair.

You heaved a sigh, sitting up in bed and staring at your room.

It was messy in a very minute way. You had clothes that needed washing, and a stray sock on the floor; your bed wasn’t made and there were reports on your desk that needed filing.

Clean to an onlooker; filthy to a soldier.

Your eyes wandered to Ghost’s shirt where it hung on your door.

You still hadn’t given it back to him, too dead set on eluding him at all costs after the ordeal in the infirmary, but it was casting a dreary shadow in your room. You didn’t want it near you, despite the way you’d clung to it when you’d woken up, and despite the way you’d managed to avoid returning it even when you’d had ample time to do something as simple as hanging it on his doorknob.

You didn’t know whether you should treat it as if it were a talisman or an omen, but given that it was stained in your blood, you leaned towards the latter. 

You stared at it for a few moments before finding the motivation to get up and grab it off the hook it had been dangling from.

Maybe you could treat it like an olive branch, even if it was only for this particular occasion.

He’d have to offer you a whole tree to make you consider allowing him on your good side for anything else he’d put you through.

~~~

It was relatively quiet in the barracks, and you felt like you were missing out on something. But you knew it got like this sometimes; weeks of high energy often resulted in a lull.

Simon’s room was at the end of the hallway, shrouded in shadows where one of the hall lights had gone out. His door had the same menacing energy that he did, and you felt insane for comparing the man to a door.

But were you really that far off?

Rigid, unfeeling; Ghost was essentially just another fixture—in the barracks, on the force, in the quiet corners of your mind.

You quickened your pace in an effort to get this over with. The sooner you gave him his shirt back, the sooner you could quell the feelings of frailty and lousiness, the sooner you could rid him from your thoughts—at least for a little while.

You stood in front of his door, and before you could question your true intentions, you knocked.

He opened the door in a huff, and you found yourself taking a step back. He didn’t say anything, fixing his unforgiving gaze on you.

“This is yours,” you held up the shirt, “Figured you might want it back.”

You watched his eyes scan the shirt in your hand before flicking back up to your face.

“Covered in your blood.” He looked like he was quirking a brow beneath the balaclava, and you suddenly felt irate—why wear the mask in his own room?

“Well, I haven’t really had time to wash it, considering…” You motioned up and down in front of your chest with your free hand. “But, um…Johnny said it was yours, and I felt bad holding onto it, given that I don’t really have any…need for it now.”

“Why would I want it back?” His tone was flat.

“It’s your fucking shirt.” You heaved a sigh, realizing that your attempt at diplomacy was going unheeded.  

“Don’t want it.”

Nothing else. Not a word—not a ‘thank you’ or a ‘happy to see you out of bed.’

Nothing to suggest he even cared about what had happened, or that he had any inkling of what was still going on in your head. He didn’t even question you about your outburst in the mess hall. He was completely cold, fully detached.

Typical.

“Well,” you swallowed the urge to push him, to see his feet slip out from under him and watch him stumble. “Fuck me for trying, Simon.”

You turned to make quick work of walking away, fidgeting angrily with the shirt in your hands. But he was clearly in the mood to argue.

“Oi—” You heard his footsteps behind you, “You mad?”

You scoffed. “Shut up.”

“Are you mad at me?” He clarified, catching up to you as you stormed down the hallway.

You didn’t answer him until you got back to the door of your room, opening it, and standing in the doorframe.

It gave you a sense of power, being in your own space.

“Am I mad at you?” You swiveled to stare up at him, your tone venomous. “Fuck you, Ghost.” You could no longer deny yourself the satisfaction of shoving him, and you pushed against his chest hard enough that he swayed back slightly.

“Watch it.” He glared down at you like he was trying to burn a hole through your head.

“Please—or what?” You challenged, “You’ll make me sit on the sidelines for an extra week? You gonna snap my neck in my own fucking room?”

Once you started, you couldn’t stop, and every single issue you had with him was coming to the surface.

“You won’t do shit. You never do shit—not unless it’s in the job description. You ignore everything so dutifully, Simon, like it’ll just disappear if you don’t give it the time of day,” you were yelling now. “Cause that’s what you think, right? That problems and people will vanish when they realize they’re not good enough for Lieutenant Riley?”

“Wasn’t personal, sweetheart—you’re in no shape to be out there.” He sighed, and it just fueled your rage.

“I don’t take anything you do personally,” you pressed a finger into his chest for emphasis. “You walk around here like you own the place, Lieutenant, and you don’t. You don’t get to call all the shots—I don’t care what kind of hard-on you get for the authority you have in one-four-one.”

“Sergeant—” You could tell it was taking effort on his part to stay stoic as he stood in your line of fire, and a vicious part of you wanted to see him break and fight back.

You wanted him to give you a good reason to hate him. Something that might finally stick. 

“I’m not fucking finished,” you cut him off, eager to express every single detail about him that made you feel so incensed. “You are the epitome of ego, you are indisputably one of the most self aggrandizing people I have ever had the misfortune of meeting. All you are is a fucking killer, just like the rest of us, but you seem to think you’re God’s gift to SAS—because what would one-four-one be without you, right, Simon? What would any of this be without you!”

You took a deep breath, and it made your ribs settle over your lungs uncomfortably, but you were nowhere near done.

“You act like you don’t care about the praise, the commendation—but you fucking do, and that’s why you turn your nose up at it. Cause you think you deserve it. And why the fuck should you acknowledge any compliment to your skill? Why should you acknowledge something that you already know to be true?”

Suddenly, you were cackling; manic with hatred, confused by your hostility towards him.

Ghost stood silent, and you wished he wasn’t wearing the mask so you could see his face and analyze how your words were hitting him.

You wanted to see the upset on his features—never mind how pretty he might look, carved in agitation.

“You don’t pay attention to the way people shy away from you, or the way the rookies worship you, or the—fuck, Simon, the women! You don’t care about how girls look at you! Because it’s what you think you deserve!” You couldn’t stop yourself from throwing that detail in, but you quickly recovered from your thinly veiled barb of jealousy.

You lowered your voice, wanting to hammer home how deeply, truly repulsed by him you were.

“You are so fucking aloof, it’s insane,” you hissed, “Ignore me all you want, Lieutenant, but I’m not fucking going anywhere. Am I mad at you? Fuck you, Simon.” You focused now on catching your breath, but you wanted to make sure he knew you meant it: “Fuck. You.”

He hadn’t moved the whole time, staying in the same spot in front of you throughout your rant.

Maybe he was thinking about the situation at hand. You wondered if he had actually listened to anything you said, or if he was too baffled by the fact that he was being screamed at by a subordinate to even hear you.

Maybe he’d hit you. You would, in his position.

“S‘at all?” His tone was casual, maybe a bit gruffer than normal, but that did nothing to subdue your rage.

All you’d really wanted was a reaction, and he wouldn’t even give you that.

“Get the fuck out.” You took a step back, slamming the door in his face.

You leaned against the door, breathing. Your side felt like it was splitting—maybe the stitches were under pressure, or your ribs had been held too taut against your lungs when you yelled.

You’d take an ibuprofen later. Now, you clutched his shirt in your fists, and tears slid off your cheeks to mingle with the bloodstains.

~~~

An hour or two later, you felt somewhat more under control.

You tried to shrug off your emotions, burying them somewhere to keep them guarded and stop them from getting to you.

You shoved Simon’s shirt under your bed. Out of sight, out of mind.

You saw no point in wallowing—you’d had a week to do that in the infirmary. Now you just wanted some semblance of peace, a good night of sleep.

Distracting yourself with paperwork seemed just as good. But your hands were shaky, and you quickly grew frustrated.

Be fucking certain they’re in order. You heard the words in Simon’s voice, clear as day, as the memory bounced around in your head.

You shoved yourself up from your desk chair at the same moment you heard a knock on your door.

You hesitated.

“Yeah?” You called out, walking slowly towards the sound.

“Got you something.”

Gaz’s voice was cheery, and you let out a brief sigh of relief upon hearing him—initially worried that Ghost had come back for retribution.

Relief may not have been the proper word. Still, you opened the door.

“Didn’t even ask who it was.” Gaz smiled when you ushered him in.

“What’d you bring me?” You ignored his teasing with a grin.

“First," he made himself comfortable on the edge of your bed, "Tell me if you’ve got a light.”

You quirked a brow at him, taking the hint. You rummaged through your nightstand to locate a lighter, finding one and handing it to him.

“Solid,” he took the lighter, reaching into his pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes. “Go ’head.”

You smiled, shaking your head with an amused huff. “Inside?”

“You deserve it.”

“With my…” You tried to appeal to your better judgement, the stitches in your side a reminder of the turmoil your body had only just experienced.

Kyle looked at you expectantly, holding out the pack, and you let your sentence trail off as you fished a cigarette from the box.

“Terrible influence, Garrick.” You perched the cigarette between your lips, waiting for him to light it for you.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” he smiled, watching you puff smoke as he lit your cigarette. “You need a vice. Heard you tore LT a new one.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes. You moved from the bed to open the small window in your room, resting your hand on the sill and watching the smoke trail up into the night air.

“Word travels fast,” you almost smirked at the knowledge that people had heard about your row with Ghost. “He had it coming.”

Gaz got up from your bed and walked over to lean opposite you against the window.

“Only person that’s ever done it,” he wedged the window up a bit more when the smoke blew back into his face. “Long as I've been here, at least. When Soap’s mad at him, he just listens to songs about stickin’ it to the English.”

“I know,” you ashed the cigarette, smiling, “I have his playlist.”

Gaz laughed, and you stamped the cigarette out on the outer part of the sill, walking back to your bed and taking a seat. Gaz watched you, analyzing your movements before he pulled the chair from your desk and sat.

“You, uh…” He chewed the inside of his cheek, “He was glued to you, Ghost was. Wouldn’t leave your side.”

You furrowed your brow, looking up at him in confusion. You didn’t know where this was coming from—or why Kyle would bother to tell you right now, rather than while you were still in the infirmary. Or why he'd tell you at all, for that matter.

“He wasn’t there when I woke up.” You scoffed halfheartedly, unsure of what point you were trying to argue, or why you were trying to argue it.

The thing is, you had questions—but it was easier to inquire with a reserved disbelief than it was to ask anything up front. 

“He was there before that, though,” Gaz fiddled with the lighter, flicking it on and off. “We—y’know, Johnny and Price and I—we made him leave.”

“Just because?” You tried to sound amused, but the curiosity gnawed at you.

“Needed a shower, hadn’t eaten.” Gaz put the lighter down on the desk. He rolled his shoulders back, pressing his palms to his thighs with a sigh.

“So?” You prompted when Gaz had stayed silent for longer than you anticipated.

“So, just…” He cracked his neck before looking back at you, “Maybe try not to take it all out on him.”

“Take what out on him?” Your tone went sharp, and Kyle made a face.

“You know what I mean,” he backed down slightly, but continued with his effort. “I think he’s…unhappy.”

“I get blown to smithereens and we all throw Simon a pity party?” You felt your skin growing hot, unnerved by the notion that you were supposed to go about business as usual after such an event, while everybody around you seemed to have more sympathy for Ghost and the grave he’d dug for himself.

“You cracked three ribs!” Gaz smiled, trying to ease the sudden tension.

“It was enough for LT to throw a hissy fit over!” You snapped back, perhaps a bit too harshly, and Gaz let his smile fade, ready to concede to you.

You continued to seethe for a moment longer, staring at Gaz’s feet. He dipped his head down, trying to get you to listen.

“I think he’s unhappy because he wasn’t there when you woke up.” He said simply, his voice gentle. He wasn’t trying to upset you, just attempting to share his opinion and see whether or not it improved anything.

“Hardly my fault…” You frowned, finding his gaze again and crossing your arms.

“Yeah, no, I know—believe me, I know,” Gaz rubbed a hand over his face, “But he was…so…He was fucking besides himself with worry—or, I mean, it seemed like it. Didn’t leave the infirmary til we pushed him out a few hours before you came to. And I think he was really set on being there to see you through it.”

Gaz looked at you. You looked back, tilting your head in silent encouragement; you were listening.

“It’s like he…built up this idea in his head about…” he trailed off, “And then it didn’t happen. And he doesn’t want to feel stupid, so he’s just angry instead.”

You nodded, taking in the revelation that maybe Ghost wasn’t mad at you, but at himself; that he was facing a similar struggle from you as you were from him.

It didn’t make you feel better. If anything, it made you want to knock sense into him all the more.

You’d laid out your cards—it was his turn now. If he had such big feelings, he could either suck it up and ignore them, or he could come out with them. And nothing Gaz said or suggested could make you change your mind.

You scoffed, shaking your head. But you smiled a little, subconsciously reassured.

“That’s my hypothesis, anyway.” Gaz shrugged, returning your smile ten-fold, and you felt yourself relax a bit, feeling the tension dissipate.

“Big word.” You laughed softly.

Gaz grinned. “Read a book or two.”

You reached out to snatch the pack of cigarettes from him, fishing another out for yourself before pushing the box back into his hands. He put them away, handing you your lighter.

“Not joining me?” You nodded towards the pocket he’d shoved the pack into, speaking through your hands as you lit the cigarette.

“Nah,” he shook his head, sighing. “There’s…mm—I didn’t come to see you just so we could talk about Ghost.”

“You talked about him,” you mumbled, “I listened.” You moved to the window again. “What else?”

“We’re shipping out,” Gaz sighed, “Next week.”

You went quiet, picking at one of your fingernails and watching your cigarette burn.

“…Without me.” Your words came out small, disappointed.

“Yeah,” Gaz’s voice went soft around the edges. “First time in—”

“Yeah.” You cut him off.

You knew how long you’d been in 141; and it felt like eons to you, despite the fact that it had been only a tiny fraction of the time everybody else had been on the task force. You didn’t need the reminder now—not when you already felt like an outsider.

“All of you, then?”

You looked back over your shoulder at Kyle, and he nodded.

“Price too?”

He nodded again. You took a long drag of your cigarette.

“In and out,” he tried to make it sound like fun—and really, it was, to an extent, but your thoughts were elsewhere. “Won’t even be a full forty-eight hours, way we’ve got it planned.”

You smiled—he always downplayed it, but you wanted to believe him.

Without Gaz and Soap around, you’d be bored out of your mind. You could handle a couple days, but anything longer than that seemed dreadful.

You didn’t let yourself fall into the vortex of thoughts that opened up relating to Simon; you refused to acknowledge the way your stomach tensed at the idea of him on a mission without you, the way sweat beaded on the skin of your back at the notion that you wouldn’t be there to watch him—you didn’t know what the feeling was, but you knew you didn’t like it.

“I believe you.” You flicked the cigarette out the window.

“Good.” He said simply.

It was another hour of banter before Gaz decided to call it a night, by which time the strange feeling in your stomach had begun to feel more akin to a hunger pain.

“Hey,” he nudged you with his shoulder as you walked him out of your room, “Don’t think too hard about it, yeah?”

“About what?”

“Ghost—and him being…”

“Being Ghost.” You offered sardonically with a smile to match, but Gaz took it in stride.

“Mm,” he nodded, “Ghost being Ghost.” He added, “You were the one that wanted his help, remember.”

He didn’t clarify, but you knew he was talking about how you’d pleaded for Ghost to be the one to treat your wounds as you lay bleeding.

You nodded, sighing an affirmative.

When you shut the door behind Gaz, you found yourself standing frozen in the same spot you had been in after shouting at Simon.

It was significantly more tranquil now, but it still made you feel a sense of unease.

Did you feel bad? And if the answer was yes—did you feel sorry for yourself, or for him?

You got in bed and curled into yourself, suddenly feeling like it was too big and almost wishing you could be back in the infirmary.

At least you could sleep in that cot; the morphine drip kept you in a steady, sleepy haze and removed all of the anxiety induced by your near-death experience.

Against your better judgement, you threw your hand over the edge of your bed, contorting yourself as comfortably as you could to lean down and grab Simon’s shirt from the spot you’d chucked it beneath the bedframe.

If he was so adamant that you keep it, you felt as though it was only fair for you to use it.

You draped his shirt over the foot of your mattress, and you instantly felt as though the bed had shrunk down to fit you exactly; it was cozy, it was made for you, and not hundreds of recruits just like you.

He took up too much space at the table and in your mind, so what was a little space in your bed?

It’s not like this changed anything. You were still upset, still frustrated, still completely and utterly confused. Simon’s shirt was simply an added presence that helped quell the shakiness in your hands as you moved to switch off the light.

And it added a bit of fuel to the thoughts you’d deemed taboo.

~~~

You hadn’t been trying to count down the days until the force left, but it was hard not to. You knew that them leaving base would mean radio silence and a consuming sense of loneliness.

You couldn’t tell if the feeling in your gut was a product of the unfortunate event you’d just lived through, your intense dosage of Advil, or just the crushing fear of being left behind.

So, you’d tried to make the most of things as the week went by; and maybe you sat at the dinner table a little longer than you needed to, even when Simon cared to join; maybe you didn’t say anything when Soap tried to look at Gaz’s cards over his shoulder.

You wandered into the transport bay on the morning they were set to leave, and they were all standing at the ready.

It almost had you laughing; little toy soldiers, all lined up.

“Where you off to?” You sidled up next to Soap as he fiddled with his chest rig.

“Need to know basis.” He grunted, pulling at the strap around his shoulder. He looked up at you with a grin. 

You rolled your eyes, returning the smile.

“Then tell me all about it if you come back in one piece.”

“Always do, lassie.”

You cringed. “Don’t tempt the fates, Johnny.”

Gaz appeared in your peripheral, and you turned to him.

You couldn’t decipher his gaze; if he was nervous or if he felt sorry for you.

“Gonna miss ya out there, Sergeant.” He smiled softly at you.

“Yeah,” you walked over to him, slinging an arm over his shoulder, “I know.”

“Always the picture of humility, you are.” He smirked, and you punched him in the arm.

“Take care of yourselves.” You knew they would—they always did. And it wasn’t like you had anything to worry about; it was one operation, a brief mission to wherever the hell, and you’d see them in a few days’ time.

As cocky as Soap could be, he was right: they always came back in one piece.

Unlike you.

Price cleared his throat, cutting short the banter between you and the Sergeants that flanked you.

“Captain.” You looked up, offering him a nod.

“Sorry to see you sitting this one out.” He was being sincere—that was something you appreciated about Price; he didn’t say anything he didn’t mean. “Won’t feel the same without you.”

“Yeah, well,” you still didn’t know how to take a compliment from him, “I’ll be good as new, soon enough.” You added; “Only a month left, and then I’ll be back at it.”

He nodded, and you saw his cheeks broaden, offering you a small smile.

“Don’t let that arm go stiff, Sergeant.”

“Roger that.” You responded with a similarly minute smile.

You turned your attention back to Gaz and Soap, hoping that getting enough face time with them now might hold you over while they were gone.

Ghost stood in the corner, checking guns for loose ammo and saying nothing. He barely looked your way, and when he did, you tried to hold eye contact.

Maybe you were trying to scare him, wear him down a bit and make him nervous. Realistically, though, the man that stood a few yards away from you would never consider you a threat.

And you knew that. But you couldn’t admit that you were looking at him just to look.

You wanted him to squirm under your gaze now the way that you always did under his.

The door to the bay opened and you knew it was best to see them off before they loaded—you were a soldier, not a would-be widow; you couldn’t bear the feeling of being left behind, but the idea of watching them leave was even worse.

“Alright,” you rolled your neck, trying to appear indifferent to their departure. “Be good.” You looked pointedly at Soap, who nodded, saluting.

“Aye.”

“You too.” Gaz pressed a finger to your chest, feigning menace, and you rolled your eyes as you watched the Sergeants gear up to go.

Ghost still hadn’t said a word, but you found yourself being pulled into his orbit as you turned to leave.

It was no big deal. He was standing by the exit, anyway.

Still, you stared at him as you walked out, waiting for him to say something. Or not.

He gave you a curt nod in an effort to catch your attention.

“See you in a few days, sweetheart.” He kept his voice low—maybe out of habit, maybe because he wasn’t sure if he wanted you to hear him.

You huffed at him, frowning at him but refusing to respond.

His eyes shifted beneath his mask, but he didn't speak anymore. And you didn’t care.

But when you walked out of the transport bay, you could feel your heart racing, challenging your mind.

~~~

Admittedly, it was calmer with them gone. But you were bored, and feeling more outcast and alone than you’d care to confess.

It gave you time to work on the reports that had started to pile up, and even more time to debate where exactly you stood with Simon.

And then you debated whether that was something even worth debating.

He was an asshole. He was your superior. But he was also, in a twisted sort of way, your friend.

And you’d never heard him call Soap or Gaz sweetheart.

He was an ally in dark times, who used his own clothes to stem your bleeding—something he’d only done because you, in your weakest state, had begged for his help.

And you still didn’t really know why you had asked. And you didn’t like the fact that the time you spent alone with your thoughts was bringing you closer and closer to figuring it out.

You thought a lot about Gaz's words, his explanation for Ghost’s behavior: he’s unhappy, he wanted to see you through it, he built up this idea.

You still couldn’t fully wrap your head around what the idea Gaz had mentioned was, and you had been too proud to ask for any clarification.

Simon’s shirt was still unceremoniously draped over your bed, and despite the comfort it brought you, you tried to ignore it.

Two days came and went, and by the third day you had allowed the initial drops of worry to seep in.

It didn’t last long before the whole dam exploded.

And then it all started to blur together, like you were lying on your back in the dirt again, feeling like your head was being held underwater.

In the early hours of day four, commotion in the hall roused you. It wasn’t as if you had been asleep, but facing such loud noise after midnight still made you grumble as you padded to the door and flung it open. Walking down the hall, you didn’t care that you were barefoot, too intent on giving into the curiosity that was tying your stomach in knots.

You heard Price’s voice first, the sharp pinch of his words as he demanded everybody move out.

That was your first tip off that something was wrong.

And then Soap rushed past you without so much as a first glance, let alone a second, as he booked it in the direction of the infirmary. There was a hand on your shoulder, then, and Gaz offered a look of sympathy, but his eyes were glazed over and intense in a manner that didn’t suit him at all.

He tripped over himself as he followed Soap.

“Gaz?” You called after him, suddenly frantic and in need of answers.

One answer.

“Garrick?” You started to follow him, but it didn’t feel real; you felt like you were looking down at yourself as an outsider, your legs moving on their own as you sped barefoot down the hall, floating. “Kyle!”

That finally got him to snap to attention, but he kept walking as he spoke to you over his shoulder.

“Ghost—” his voice was shaky, and you had to wonder what had happened—what he had seen, “Direct shot.”

You felt a final tug at the knot in your stomach, and you thought you were going to be sick.

You stopped following Gaz, standing still in the middle of the hall. You felt directionless.

You drifted through the barracks in an unstable haze, almost numb but still all too capable of feeling the anger that had started to bubble within the uneasiness of your stomach.

He was supposed to be untouchable, unstoppable—invincible.

But he was bleeding out in the infirmary just like you had.

He was merciless, yes, and he was unforgiving—but he had his moments.

You wouldn’t have taken a bullet for him. Would you? Certainly, you would’ve done something.

You would’ve tried.

If you had been there, you would have forced him to do things the way you wanted to, the way you always did. Forced him to see it your way and come to an agreement in your favor; forced him to walk in the direction you chose; forced him to follow your pace, stayed in front of him like you always did; forced him to follow your trail.

And he would’ve listened, just like he always did. Because he, in his own way, seemed to approve of your drive.

And then maybe he would have walked back into base on his own two feet. And it could’ve been you lying on a cot in the infirmary.

As it was meant to be.

Somehow, you found your way back to your own room, some guiding force helping you shut the door, pushing you towards your bed.

The numb and the melancholy made way for a stronger sense of fury the moment your eyes fell onto his shirt, wrinkled and pushed to the foot of the bed.

In a fit of blind rage, you grabbed it and began whipping it against the bed; a toddler throwing a tantrum. You smacked it against your mattress as hard as you could, trying to strike fabric with fabric until the fear dissipated.

Because that’s what it was. Fear.

Because without Ghost, what was 141 worth?

Without Simon, what was any of this worth?

There was a knock on the door, and Gaz pushed himself into your room without waiting for a response.

“He’s—”

“Get out.” You were panting, still clutching the shirt in a white-knuckled fist.

“Listen, Ghost is—” Kyle looked exhausted.

“Get the fuck out!” You screamed, burning your lungs in the process and letting the pain in your ribs punish you from the inside out.

You didn’t care. You couldn’t care.

Gaz closed the door in a hurry, and you continued to watch on. He cast a vague shadow beneath the door, and you waited to see if he’d venture back into your room.

“He’s going to be fine,” you heard him sigh behind the door, “He’s up. He��bloody hell—he tried to tell them how to do the stitches.”

You breathed.

You hadn’t realized you had been holding your breath.

You heard Gaz’s footsteps echo through the hall as he walked away, and you crumpled over your mattress. The anger and fear didn’t vanish with this new revelation; it all worked together to create an anxious giddiness.

He tried to tell them how to do his stitches.

You knew he was a good nurse in a pinch, but you were fairly certain that he didn’t know how to do stitches. You didn’t even think he knew how to sew.

Cocky motherfucker.

Maybe it was the adrenaline that lingered from your outburst, or the sense of relief that flooded your senses, but when you pushed yourself up against the headboard of your bed, your hand found its way beneath your waistband.

You had to get this energy out somehow.

So you circled your fingers around your clit, thinking about him—not for the first time, not for the last—and tried to find some kind of relief to distract yourself from the rollercoaster of emotion you’d just been on.

You reached for the shirt that you’d left in a heap on the bed, straining your fingers to curl against the spongy spot on your front wall. But the effort you put into stretching for the shirt where it lay on the edge of the bed made your side split at the exact moment you began to call his name.

And you started sobbing.

It was pained, not at all reluctant—an all at once reboot for your body, shedding itself of all the intensity you’d just put your mind and heart through; finally accepting that you yourself had been hurt, and that you had no idea how to bear this cross.

You stopped trying to make yourself cum, planting yourself face down on your pillow and biting into it to silence your wails. But the tears kept coming, and soon you were pressing your face into nothing but a sopping wet piece of bedding, stained with your tears and your drool and your snot.

You clung to the shirt, subconsciously bringing it up to your face.

It smelled like the iron in your blood, crusted over and lingering in the woven material. And beneath that, his scent still clung to it. You breathed deep, huffing the smell of him.

You must have looked absolutely insane. And you felt like you were; choking on your cries, burying your face in fabric that had been soaked in your own blood.

But it was ok.

He was ok.

And you were in love with him.

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[its-time-to-write]

hello! First thing first, I want to say how much of a good writer you are, I hope you know this 💕 second I have this idea of reader and Jamie dating, but nobody knows. One day reader is in the coaches room and starts yawning and Roy is like what's that 🤨 (something similar to that scene with beard after he gets back with jane) and reader answers with "you have been waking me up everyday at 4 am" or smt like that and this is how everyone finds out. I know you have already written something like this but I thought it was cute, so feel free to ignore

this was cute. you were right.

coffee at midnight

Neither you nor Jamie exactly decided to keep your relationship a secret.

“It’s not a secret, it’s private, babe,” Jamie insists. You just roll your eyes.

But like, it is private.

That means no instagram posts, no public dates, and no unasked opinions. It also means that Jamie gets a Polaroid camera (“so we don’t get hacked, babe,”), plans dates in his giant house, and keeps fans’ noses out of your relationship.

It also, also means that Roy Kent doesn’t know you’re in Jamie’s bed every morning when he knocks on the door loud enough to wake the dead.

You’re a week into these shenanigans, and you’re not sure how much longer you can handle it. You’ve barely been at Nelson Road for an hour, but you’ve yawned more than you’ve spoken. Jamie’s been sending you apologetic looks every time he passes you in the hall, but now the entire team is in the weight room as you bring the coaches their coffee.

You place Roy’s in front of him and he asks, “The fuck’s wrong with you?”

You glare. “Nothing. That’s rude to ask, anyway. I’m-” you pause to yawn- “fine.”

Ted looks between you and Roy. “Normally I’d side with the lady on this one, but you look dead on your feet. You been sleepin’ okay?”

“Yes,” you reply shortly. “I’ve been sleeping fine. I just don’t get a lot of it these days.”

“That sounds decidedly un-sexy,” Trent calls from his desk.

You snarl, “It isn’t,” then realize that Trent is undeserving of your anger. “I’m sorry. I’ve been getting like five hours of sleep every night this whole week. Me and my boyfriend just moved in together and we both talk like way too much. So we usually don’t fall asleep until late.”

The room fills with whistles and hoots from Ted, Beard, and Trent. Roy is stoic as always.

“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend,” Ted grins. “What’s his name?”

You hesitate. You’re pretty sure Jamie would be okay if you told Ted, but you’re not sure you really want to. You let the silence stretch on for a beat too long, and Trent’s on you like a vulture.

“It’s someone here, isn’t it?” he asks.

“No,” you reply, but it’s not convincing. It’s hard for you to lie when you’re this tired.

Jamie and Sam choose this exact moment to come into the locker room to grab water bottles. Jamie glances at you and you make the mistake of glancing back. It’s just for a second but Trent catches it with his stupid eagle-eyes.

“Oh shit,” he says.

You round on him. Maybe he does deserve your anger. “Don’t say anything,” you warn.

He zips his lips as Roy says, “Why are you being so fucking weird? We know you’re fucking lying. Just say which of these little pricks you’re dating and get some sleep like a fucking normal adult.”

“I’d be able to get regular sleep, except you’ve been waking me up at fucking 4am!” you explode.

The room goes silent. 

“Fuuuck,” Roy whispers. “Fucking Tartt? You’re dating- fuck, you moved in with fucking Tartt?”

“Yes,” you groan, “We’ve been together for six months and it’s probably the most serious relationship I’ve ever been in, and I know how it sounds but we really like each other. Higgins already knows because of HR shit but other than that, it’s been private.”

Ted and Beard have matching open-mouthed smiles. It would be a little scary if you hadn’t known them for as long as you have.

“That’s the most adorable shit I’ve ever heard in my whole life,” Beard says.

“Hold on,” Trent interjects, “does this mean you and Jamie have been staying up late every night talking?”

“Yes,” you reply primly. “And then this prick bangs on our door at fuck-thirty in the morning and I’m awake for the rest of the day.”

Roy says, “Right,” very slowly. “Is that fucking why he wasn’t wearing fucking trousers?”

All eyes turn to you.

“I’m not answering that,” you say. “In fact, I think I hear Higgins calling me. I have to leave right now.” You back out of the room and down the hall before anyone can say anything else.

The coaches’ office is silent for a moment before they all clamor out of their seats to chase you down the hall. They have so many questions but first, they’re going to yell at Higgins for keeping it a secret.

[loving-barnes]

LOGAN HOWLETT - BAR

A/N: It took me some time, but here we go again. Chapter Seven, my friends. Just something stupid, fun.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant female reader

Warning: none

Summary: It's a fun night out at a bar.

Please, do not read if you are under 18. This story is suitable for mature audience.

Words: 3300+

Important note: Again, Logan is a tall MF, because they fucked up in the movies. Also, Hugh Jackman!Wolverine. This is set in AU.

A TOUCH OF HOPE MASTERLIST | Chapter Six

LOGAN HOWLETT - BAR

Y/N stood in front of the mirror, looking at her reflection. When was the last time she dressed up and put on make-up? She couldn’t recognise herself in the mirror. Since she came to the school, she would wear simple outfits and almost any make-up. Tonight, she wanted to look nice and make an impression on the people. Hell, she desired to catch Logan’s eyes. Honestly, she would catch his eyes even without all those things.

White blouse, dark blue jeans, black combat boots and a black leather jacket - this was her style. She put her hair into a high ponytail. Y/N couldn’t help but smile at herself in the mirror. It felt like lifetimes since she felt this confident and sexy. Damn, even the drawn cat-eye looked good. 

She winked at herself in the mirror and then glanced at her phone. Yes, they’d given her a phone. It was time to head out. She put it into the back pocket of her jeans. Before leaving, she had to check herself one more time just to be sure everything was perfect. 

To her surprise, she didn’t see any familiar faces. Usually, the students would walk around the school at this hour and hang out. Some noises came from the kitchen or the TV room. She didn’t recognise JJ’s voice. Maybe he was in his room.

Y/N made a mental note to spend more time with the boy. She didn’t keep her promise when she told him she’d come to him before the accident happened. 

“Well, look at you,” said a voice beside her. 

Y/N jumped, gasping. She was ready to hit the man in his face. “Jesus, Peter,” she glared at him. “You scared me, you ass,” she punched him in the shoulder. He could have easily dodged it, but he decided to not use his ability and laughed it off. 

“You get scared easily, Y/N. You should work on that,” he winked at her. “Can I walk with you?” he raised a brow. 

“You already are, so why ask?” she grinned at him. 

They walked out of the school and headed to the main entrance gate. Peter kept his hands behind his back. He had silver aviator goggles on top of his head that matched his silver jacket. “So, Y/N, what is your weirdness? You know about mine. I want to know about yours.” 

That made her laugh. “Nice way of saying it. I have, uh, protective abilities?” 

“You ask, or you know?” 

She glared at him playfully. “I know. I wasn’t sure if that description was correct. Let me put it this way - I can create and manipulate forcefields.” 

“Nice.” That was his only comment. “So, you have a codename?” 

“What?” she raised a brow. 

“You know, like Scott is Cyclops. Logan is Wolverine. I am Quicksilver,” he explained. “Do you have any name you go by?” 

Wheels were turning inside her head. “No,” she said. “I never thought about it, actually. Do I need one?” Was it necessary to have a codename? Holy shit, Logan was called the Wolverine? She could see why. It suited him well. 

“That’s up to you, I guess.  Okay, changing the topic - how long have you been here?” 

“Over a month,” she replied. “It’s been a hell of a ride. What about you?” 

He thought about it. “It’s been over a decade. I love this place, to be honest.” 

They slowly approached the main gate. They could see some people standing there, talking. Y/N was sure Logan was not there. “You took a break or something?” 

Peter nodded. “I needed some time off. It was all overwhelming. Charles granted me a lengthy vacation. I took a break, travelled the States, and here I am, ready to work again.”

Storm, Kitty and Kurt were the first three there, chatting. Y/N felt some excitement building inside of her. It was nice being a part of something bigger and better. Both Storm and Kitty were great women and friends. Were they friends? God, she hoped so. The last three to arrive were Bobby, Logan and Rogue. Rogue and Logan were squabbling. She couldn’t hear what it was about until she heard: “Let it fucking go, Rogue.” 

She had to chuckle. What got Logan so worked up? 

“Let’s fucking go, people,” Peter called them.

Thus, a thirty-minute walk to the bar started. Rogue linked arms with Y/N, and they walked ahead of everyone. Her arms were covered with gloves that hid under the denim jacket. That way, she could touch the other woman without fear of hurting her.

“Isn’t it annoying?” Y/N asked her. 

“The gloves? Yes, a little bit. Luckily, I can touch Remy without them,” she said with a smile. “He’s the only person that I won’t hurt. I don’t know how it is possible, but I don’t care. What matters is that I can touch the person I love.” 

“What if you subconsciously learnt to not hurt him?” Y/N thought out loud. “I can shut my brain from the Professor. I don’t know how, but I do it. Well, I might have already figured it out.”

They talked together the entire way to the bar. Rogue wouldn’t let anyone speak to Y/N. She wanted to have her for herself and get to know the woman better. 

Y/N felt a pair of eyes on her back the whole time. She suppressed the urge to turn around and look at Logan. She was more than sure it was him staring at her. It kept happening until they arrived at the empty bar. 

It looked like an old dive bar. Country music was playing in the background. An older-looking man was standing behind the bar, cleaning glasses. He had short white hair and glasses on his nose. When his grey eyes found a group of mutants at the door, he smiled. 

“Welcome, friends,” he greeted them with a raspy voice. “I was wondering when I will see you again. Come, sit. Ah, I see a new face here,” his lips crooked into a smile. 

Rogue grabbed Y/N by the shoulder and brought her closer to the man. “This is Y/N,” she said happily. “She’s been with us for some time now.” 

“Nice to meet you,” said Y/N, shaking hands with the man. 

“What can I get you, sweetheart?” he asked. 

“A beer would be nice, thank you,” she replied with a smile. They told her the owner was a mutant. What was his mutation? 

Rogue took her to the table where the rest of the people were seated. Y/N sat next to Storm, right opposite Logan. Rogue sat by the man’s side. 

It felt like a friendly gathering. The atmosphere was inviting. It’s been years since Y/N felt safe in a group. They were all like her, unique and not criminals. When Y/N’s eyes travelled around the table, her soul got warmer and relaxed. A gentle smile appeared on her face. She listened to Bobby talk about his day. The teens got on his nerves today. 

“In case you haven’t heard,” Storm interrupted him. “Y/N will become the newest English and Literature teacher.” 

“No kidding!” Rogue shouted excitedly. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

All eyes were on her now. “I asked the Professor today,” she explained. “I don’t know. I simply didn’t. I kind of forgot, I guess.” 

“Another smartass,” Logan commented. 

“Aren’t you one, too?” Y/N glared at him, her lips turning into a grin. “Listen, I asked if he’d need an English teacher, and Charles said yes. I’m glad that I would be able to repay him at least a little.” 

The bartender brought them a tray of beers. They all grabbed one. Y/N put the drink to her lips and took a sip. Then another one. Before she knew it, she drank the whole glass in one go. She burped a little and smiled. “Damn, that was a good beer.” When her eyes lifted from the empty glass, everyone stared at her. Some had their mouths open, and others were impressed. “What? It’s been years.” 

“You’ll be out before you know it,” Bobby warned her. “Be careful.” 

“So,” Rogue clapped her hands. It got everyone’s attention. “Since we are all here, let’s get more information about Y/N.” 

“Oh, no,” Y/N hid her face in her hands.

“Oh, come on, Y/N,” Storm nudged her shoulder. “We want to know everything about you. Let’s start with the basics. Tell us something interesting about yourself. For example, I like gardening.” 

Y/N peeked at Storm, raising a brow. “That’s quite shocking. I could never picture you in a garden, on your knees and covered in dirt.” 

“The more you know. Now, it’s your turn.” 

“Ah,” Y/N sighed and thought about her life. “I used to attend guitar lessons,” she said after a while. “My parents made me take guitar lessons. That was years ago. I don’t think I remember anything.” 

“At least someone who’s not tone-deaf,” Peter commented. “I can’t listen to some of you singing off-key.” 

“I’m saying I played the guitar, not that I can sing,” Y/N corrected him. 

“It’s still the same,” Peter shrugged. 

“Anything else?” Storm asked. 

Y/N’s eyes moved around the place. She found darts and a pool table farther away. “Nothing is interesting about me,” she said. “I’m going to get another beer. Anyone want anything else?” she asked them. 

Y/N’s eyes fell on Logan’s empty glass, and she raised a brow. Their eyes locked. It was a silent plea to save her from the interrogation. “I’ll go with you,” he said. 

They walked from the table and straight to the bar. Logan ordered them more beer. He leaned against the wooden counter, elbows resting on it. “Everyone is curious about you,” he commented. 

“I hate that,” she sighed. “It’s like going to a confession. They all get information, and I get nothing out of it. It makes me nervous. I feel like the least interesting person here.” She turned her body to him. “Back in the day, when I started high school, this was a nightmare. People wanted to know everything to convince themselves that their lives were more interesting than others.” 

Logan’s eyes travelled around her body until they landed back on her face. “True,” he shrugged. “But here, people are genuinely curious and want to know you. You are part of the team, you know?” 

“It feels forced,” said Y/N. 

The bartender handed them beers, and he winked at Y/N. She chuckled at that. He wasn’t too discreet about the flirting. Then again, she didn’t mind. 

Her eyes landed on the pool table again. “Listen. Do you want to play?” she pointed with her head. 

Logan turned to look at it and then back at her, smirking. “Not only do you want me to kick your ass during training. You also want to lose playing pool?” 

“Is that a threat I hear in your voice? I will beat you,” she threatened with a finger.

“Only one way to find out, princess,” he grabbed his beer. “We’ll have a game, Stan,” Logan said to the bartender. 

Storm and Kitty watched them walk around the pool table and play. They both had grins on their faces, squabbling here and there. “They are so blind,” Kitty whispered to Storm.

“Let them have this dance,” Storm whispered back. “Five bucks, they’ll end up together by the end of the month.” 

“I’m giving them a week,” Bobby joined on the bet. 

Y/N held the billiard cue tightly in her hand. Logan was the one who started the game. They flipped a coin, and he won. Logan got himself solids while Y/N remained with the stripes. When he screwed up his move, it was time for her to play. The last time she played pool was years ago. It was a game she wasn’t able to master. All she could do was to try and have a good time. 

She sank one of her balls and moved to another one. She leaned over the table, placed the cue on the table and focused. There weren’t any good shots for her. Therefore, she had to play something and try. 

Logan stood next to her and laughed. “Your stance is wrong,” he said. He reached for her hand and brought it higher on the cue. 

His body was oh so close to her, and Y/N forgot how to breathe. She could smell the cigars, a heavy man’s cologne and something musky. When he pulled away, his hand brushed against her lower back. It made her hit a ball that sank one of his solid balls. “Shit,” she cursed. 

Logan’s howling laughter echoed around the bar. “You really want me to win, princess.” 

“You are distracting me,” she frowned at him when she straightened her stance. She reached for her beer and drank from it. 

Her eyes were stalking him, watching his every move. When did he light up a cigar? He held it between his lips while he played his turn. Y/N huffed. She took off her leather jacket and threw it on the nearest chair. Then, she fixed her blouse and popped open the highest button to show some cleavage. If he could distract, so could she. 

He sank two other balls when the third try was unsuccessful. “Fuck,” he growled. 

Y/N snickered. She walked to the table and scanned her stripes. This round sucked. There was nothing good to play. She sat at the edge and held the cue behind her back. 

“You won’t be able to make it,” Logan stared at the scene. “It’s a difficult move, kid.” 

Y/N exhaled and hit the red stripe ball perfectly. “Ha!” she shouted happily when the ball sank. “Did you see that?” 

Logan smiled at her and rolled his eyes. “Go on, it’s still your turn,” he goaded her. “Show me what else you can do.” He took a drag of the cigar.

Y/N felt confident. Even though she was three balls behind, she started to believe she could win. She gave him a smug face as she walked around the table, trying to find another good shot. It was all fun and games. When she brushed past him, Logan wanted to grab her by the neck and bring her lips to his. He only took a deep breath and pushed the thoughts away. 

Y/N leaned over the table and hovered the cue on the table. There was one ball that had the potential of being taken down. She took a deep breath. Again, Y/N felt Logan’s eyes on her body. She started burning up. With this knowledge, she hit the white ball, and with some dumb luck, she managed to sink the black eight ball. 

“No!” she shouted, horrified. 

Logan’s roaring laughter brought everyone’s attention. “Holy shit,” he placed a hand on his belly. “You did not!”

Y/N leaned against a wall and hid her head in her arms. “What the fuck was that?!” she shouted, pissed. 

Laughter came from the table where the rest of the people sat. They saw what happened. “Oh, Y/N, no,” Kitty gasped, laughing. 

“I’m never playing this dumb game again,” Y/N made a dramatic announcement. “Oh my god,” she pushed from the wall and turned around. She noticed all eyes on her. “Listen,” she blushed. “I am talented. I am the best there is. I should stick to drinking,” she said ironically. 

“Hey, hey,” Logan walked to her and put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it. “If you’d like, I can also kick your ass while playing darts,” he teased. 

She glared at him. “Very funny,” she shook off his hand and went to get her beer. “I will kick your ass when we have the next training session,” she threatened. Once she got to her beer, she went back to him. “I will find a way to burn all your clothes.”

Logan tilted his head and grinned. “If you want to see me without clothes, all you need to do is ask.” 

“Is that a challenge?” she looked into his eyes and wiggled her eyebrows. “Think twice, or you might regret it.” And then, she drank the rest of her second beer in one go. “Refill?” 

He snorted. “You’ll get drunk, princess.” 

“Well, you only live once, right?” she shrugged and walked to the bar to order another beer. 

The rest of the night went smoothly. Everyone talked and laughed. Y/N wasn’t interrogated as she was at the very beginning. Bobby told her about the students and what to expect from them. Kitty added some of her funniest memories and challenges as a teacher. Storm included what to do when the school is under attack.

“It happens,” she said. “Not often, but at least once a year.” 

Before they knew it, Y/N was on her fifth beer and feeling it. Her face was burning, the world spinning, and she could feel it in her veins. Her voice got louder, and words went flying out of her mouth.

“I love my life,” Y/N said out of nowhere. Some giggles spread around. “Everything’s good, you know? I have a place to sleep, food to eat, and amazing friends,” she said with a wide smile. “I fucking hope we are friends.”

“Of course we are,” Bobby nodded.

“No more beer for you, young lady,” said Peter. “By the way, how is it possible to get drunk from beer?” 

She took a big, dramatic breath. “Let me tell you a short story, my friend. When you are locked up for years, barely able to eat and an involuntary abstainer, you can get drunk easily.” 

More laughter followed. “Take it easy, girl,” Storm patted her shoulder. 

Y/N stood up from their table. “I’m going outside to take a breather and clear my head.” She tripped over her feet but managed to stand tall. “It’s the floors,” she blamed it. 

The midnight air was cold. Y/N walked outside without her leather jacket. She wrapped her arms around herself and closed her eyes. Getting drunk was not the plan. On the other hand, the beer tasted good. It eased her nerves. Walking around Logan got easier the more she drank. That fucker was such a tease. 

Y/N let her hair loose and put the elastic band between her fingers. She let her hair fall over her shoulders and face. 

How would his lips feel against mine? Where did that question come from? Her mind was racing miles. All she could see was Logan’s face and those lips she wanted to taste. She shook her head to get rid of those thoughts. 

“You okay, kid?” 

She sighed. Of course, Logan would be the first one to check up on her. It was nice. But it brought back all those impure thoughts. 

“I’d like another beer,” she said to him. 

“Go get some. But I’m warning ya, I’m not the one carrying ya back to the school.” 

“I’m not asking you to,” Y/N winked at him. When she took a step, she almost tripped again. Sighing, she said, “Seriously, what is with the floor?” 

“Y/N, you are drunk,” said Logan. “The floor is fine. Also, you are outside, so there is ground under your feet. I think it’s time to go back to school.” 

“You are right,” she nodded and yawned. “I’m going to get my jacket. I’ll head back to school. You guys have fun.” Y/N wanted to walk inside to get her belongings. However, Logan stopped her. Y/N was about to protest, but she noticed he already had her jacket. “How did you get that? You are not the one who can run fast. That’s Peter.” 

Logan was a bit annoyed when she mentioned his name. He put the jacket around her shoulders. “Come on, princess. Let’s get ya home.” 

“You are coming with me?” she looked up at him, confused. “Why?”

“You think I’m letting you walk there alone in this state? Come on, Y/N, I’m not leaving you when you are drunk and barely able to walk on your own.” 

A bright smile appeared on her face. “Aw, you are my knight in shining armour,” she sang. 

[pjmxtra]

Sweetheart…₊˚⊹♡

♡ pairing: idol bf!heeseung x f!reader

♡ genre: Smut. Fluff

♡ notes: an extension of hee-poster post 🤭 read post for context!

i love your post btw 🫶🏻🫶🏻 also this is my first time writing smut. Bare with me please :(

You tossed your phone in the couch you were comfortably laying on. A frustrated sigh left your lips. Why did he always have to be like this. Be little you like you really didn’t have the balls to leave him. You’d prove him wrong! You’re gonna tell him right in his face. Show him you’re not one to be messed with!

You bit your nail as you though of ways to tell him it was over. No buts no coconuts. Who did he think he was? Really? It made your blood boil as you though of him with another woman. Maybe you were being over exaggerating, but with his sly remarks it made it hard not to let your temper get out of hand.

The sound of foot steps interpreted your thoughts. You looked towards the entrance of you apartment and of course he was there. You sighed as you got comfortable once again on the couch, arms crossed around you.

“I see you listened. Good girl” He said, dropping the shopping bag he had on the table. With that stupid sexy smile on his. “You wish. Get out” You rolled your eyes as you scooted away from him when he sat next to you.

“Don’t be like that baby…” He pushed his body towards you. Caging you in between his arms. “You know you love me.” his voice went lower, causing the pit in your stomach to grow. You started into his eyes and they became lustful. Your lips were so close to touching his.

Maybe you were as weak as he said you were. You hate to admit it but it was so hard not to grab his hair and just kiss him. Show him that he was yours, but you had to finish what you started.

“You disgust me” you whispered. You timid voice not matching the “hurtful” comment that left your mouth. He let out a dry chuckle. “As you’ve said before.” Slowly his hand trailed up your exposed thigh. He let out a low hum as he rubbed the soft flesh.

“You wearing these sluty pjs for me, pretty?” He eyed you up and down. You couldn’t deny how much skin your “pjs” covered. It was a tiny, thin sleeping gown. Was it a coincidence you had been wearing this skimpy outfit when you knew he was coming over? Maybe, maybe not. No one needs to know the truth.

You gave him a shove, “Don’t get any ideas. We are over remember.” He looked into your eyes for a couple of seconds, before slowly lowering his head. His hands coming up to cup your face. “No, no baby. You’re still mine.” You started to give in slowly moving towards him too, your face growing hot.

Finally his lips touched yours. His hand moving from your cheek to you neck. Caressing you to gently, despite his rough kissing. You gave in and let your hands rom around his body. “I won’t let you go that easy…” He said in between kissing. It quickly got heated.

He grabbed you sides and manhandled you, placing you on his lap. His hands became rough as he groped your ass, giving it a squeeze. You let out a low moan, it was getting harder and harder to not take him right here. “I see you’re all talk.” he said while kissing your neck, leaving pretty marks.

“I told you… you can’t resist me” he watches you bite your lip, his dick growing hard inside his pants. He was so obsessed with you. Your pretty little sounds got him all worked up. He won’t go down without you giving in fully. All under his control.

You let out a squeal as his hands travels up your thigh, slowly starting to rub your clit. You moaned at the sensation, rubbing down harder on his fingers. “Come on pretty, just admit it.” you buried your head in between his neck. Shacking your head as you fucked yourself on his fingers. He removed his fingers from your cunt as he watched your cute reaction. You let out a whine as you started grinding down on his thigh, driven on how much you wanted to get off.

“Angel, I need a response. Or do you want me to stop?” He said, holding your hips in place so you had nothing to get off on. “I can’t… resist you” You whispered excepting defeat. He leaned in letting out a hum to indicate he didn’t quite hear you.

You let out a frustrating sigh, “I can’t resist you” you looked down, to embarrassed to look at him. He hummed in satisfaction. He moved his fingers under your chin. Lifting your head, making you look him in the eye. “Good girl” He said, placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

You couldn’t help but get aroused. His pet names and touches making it hard to stay focused on one thing. He hooked two fingers around your panties, pulling on them. Causing them to rip, “Hey! That’s a good pair” you whined. His fingers stopped right were you needed them most. Playing around with your wetness.

“I’ll buy you a new pair. Don’t worry about that” He pushed his fingers into your glossy pussy. Not even bothering to take his rings off. A high pitch moan escaped past your throat. He placed a kiss on your neck while starting to finger you slowly. You let out a low hum as you started moving your hips with the pace he had set.

“Please…” you struggled to let the words out. His pace started to speed up, causing you to moan even louder. “Please what pretty?” He whispered, grading your cheeks while lifting your face up. You eyes became glossy from how good he was making you feel. It was pitiful how quick you were to turn into puddy in his grasp. It felt like you were intoxicated, drunk on love and lust. Just for him.

“Please… I wanna cum.” you whispered, pushing your body towards his. You wrapped your arms around his neck, playing around with the hair on his nape. “Heeseung, please i wanna cum so bad” you said against his lips. His fingers speed up even more at the comment. He felt so defenseless even if he wasn’t the one being fucked dumb. You sweet honey voice saying such naughty things, how was he supposed to deny you?

And your pretty expressions. God he was so obsessed with you. You just looked so sexy right now. Hair all messy, lips all bruised and red. Your sleeping dress was bunched up against your waisted, straps falling of your shoulders. Exposing your cute little breasts.

“So pretty, all for me right?” He said while kissing you. His thumb coming up to rub circles on your sensitive bud. “Oh fuck…” you moaned, starting to fuck yourself on his fingers. Throwing you head back. “Please.. Please.. uunhg I’m so close” you whispered, grabbing into his shoulders for balance.

“Yeah angel? You close? You gonna cum for me?” He teased, grabbing a fist full of your hair, pulling you closer to him. “What happened to the bold Y/N that was all talk? Where is she now? hmm?” He let out a laugh, you let out a whine. Suddenly getting embarrassed.

“I’m a-sorry…” moaning at how close you were from cumming all over his fingers. You started to shake from how sensitive it all was to you. “My pretty angels sorry?” he said, placing a peck on your cheek.

“Mhmmm fuck yes yes i’m so sorry…. just please let me cum.” your eyes rolled into your head as you felt the knot building up. “Oh my god!” you moaned as you dug your nails into his shoulders.

“Yeah that’s it baby, cum for me” he started leaving marks all over your chest, till he reached your boobs. His lips attached to the soft, plush skin. Slowly sucking it, he let out a satisfying moan. Your head fell back as you squeezed you thighs together.

“Fuck! Holy fucking shit!” you cursed as the knot in you snapped. Heeseungs fingered didn’t slow down as you rode out your orgasm. His other finger rubbing your clit. You shock as it washed over you. Afterwards you two stayed there. You on top of his lap. Just like he said you would be.

Silence filled the room as your breathing returned to normal. Heeseung broke the silence as he spoke, “You know I love you right?” You lifted you head from his chest. Nodding your head “mhm i know, i’m sorry for being dramatic” you laughed it off. Heeseung rubbed his hands over your back to bring you comfort.

“I’m being serious tho. She was just a dancer. Nothing more. I love you and only you.” His hands moved from your waist to your face. He softly squeezed them, leaving a long kiss on them. Both of you smiling like two idiots in love afterwards.

Suddenly, Heeseung grabbed your ass as he stood up. You let out a yelp “ What are you doing, heeseung!?” you looked up at him through your lashes. “You though we were done? Oh baby, how cute” He said smiling down at you.

“This is just the beginning, sweetheart.”

[atopvisenyashill]

nah listen if i’m viserys and i’m thinking “how do i set up rhaenyra as best as i can but also i’m horny and lonely” i’m having a gilf show and finding myself a sexy grandma to fuck so there’s no chance of having a kid. lowborn mistress imo is too risky. i’m not marrying rhaenyra to qoren - again, too risky to have a half dornish heir - but i AM reaching out and being like “i’ll make my insane brother stop carpet bombing the stepstones & help you hold that area if u give me some tips and tricks on how to get a woman in a ruling position.” the laenor match is good, but tbh i’m sitting down with rhaenys sans corlys when i visit driftmark and being like “give it to me straight - do you think your kid will make a good consort and what are potential drawbacks that we should work on here.” i’m making rhaenyra go on progresses constantly, especially in the crownlands and the reach (where the religious freaks are). the moment she feels ready for it, i’m making her master of laws. if anyone in my small council starts pushing back against this, they are getting fired so fucjing fast. i’m telling daemon that if he can ever manage to have some fucking kids, i’d be happy to marry them to rhaenyra’s kids but if he doesn’t throw 100% of his support behind her and get his goddamn old man hands OFF OF HER until she’s had at least ONE (1) silver haired heir, we are about to get so fucking exile happy so fucking fast. i’m pouring over the laws for a loophole that lets me do this while not making the gc 101 look stupid and if i can’t find one, i’m bribing the lords paramount and/or the crownlands lords to start doing some absolute primogeniture stuff. if these bitches thought alysanne was a shrewish prude they are in for a BIG FUCKING SURPRISE when it comes to viserys-with-a-fucking-brain babeeeee

[rcedge]

how would you fantasy book Adam's return? do you think he's going after the tnt title and getting involved with jack/the elite? or will he be involved in the christian/luchasaurus storyline? or something else entirely? i wish we had a better idea of the timeline going forward!

oh this is a really fun question ^_^

umm obviously my ideal endgame is to have him and christian together again but i don't think he'd go straight to working with him when he gets back, adam out of kayfabe (who i will refer to as beth's adam for clarity and because it amuses me to do so) has said a large part about what drew him to aew, aside from jay's being there of course, is the fact that there are so many guys on this roster he's never had a match with. going after the tnt title and the cope open (which i still think should have been called the copen challenge but he clearly doesn't listen to me) was like, the perfect way of getting to go up against a whole bunch of people quickly , so i don't know if beth's adam will want to finish what he started there or not. going after it again could get him more matches with varied people but also i don't know if he'd want to do the same type-plotline twice.

in my ideal world he comes back as a heel, i think beth's adam does his best work as a heel or an otherwise insane violent psychopath. i guess the obvious choice for any feud with the elite would be putting them against a face, but i guess they don't HAVE to do that. i could see our adam going thru the ranks to earn a title shot after world's end with like, single-minded violent obsession, kinda like he was post-e&c and pre-rated r superstar in the mid '00s, which would mirror the very positive-minded hard-working adam going after the tnt title after world's end. but i don't know!!

the other thing is if i hbad to hear more about adam hogan comparisons i'd put my head through a fucking wall, as much as i love to see him with gold. it's my opinion that just because he was winning the cope open matches doesn't mean he wasn't doing business or whatever the fuck, a lot of the guys featured in the cope open were people just coming back from injury (kor) people who usually don't get singles matches (hob) or people who dont really get matches often at all (griff garrison), and i thought all of the matches showcased the abilities of the guys he was up against super well. none of them were squashes and after every match adam went on about how good his opponent was! but i suppose i'm biased, and also a stupid fucking mark, or whatever. this entire paragraph is a bizarre aside. as taz says: but i digress.

it's such a bummer that we'll never know how his title run was supposed to go 😭 this could have been the summer of sexy vampire cope but we were ROBBED because he is KIND OF DUMB. i was SO FUCKING excited to see him have the whole brood shit again and i was really lookign forward to seeing what he was gonna do with that because it was Hot and vampires are Cool. but if my guesstimations are right and he's back in october, which he is clearly doing in honor of my birthday, it would be right around halloween which would be a fun time to launch an espooky gimmick like that. i would really really love it if he had gangrel on more too..........

thank you for the question this was really delightful!! have a baby adam as my thanks

[wetcatspellcaster]

Thank you for putting into words, Rosalie’s “I was just trying to match your energy”. Because I never had such gentle words for my own experience, and now, it’ll colour my days.

On a lighter note, it was delightful you said that the latest chapter was nice and soft and us readers could take a break from angst. The more you lovingly batter up these two puppies to make a delicious cake, I am here, gorging myself on it. Like, I sometimes lie flat on my bed and contemplate what was happening in Astarion’s mind in “Party Favours” after (1) Rosalie failed to turn up at his house after coming by every day in a month (2) when Shadowheart turned up and he realised - he RAN to - and then (3) when he realised Rosalie dressed up for !! Threnn!! But not him!!

I love your writing, so so much. Wishing you the loveliest day, and for every day to be even lovelier after.

P.s. Should it be pleasing to you, I’d love to know your director’s thoughts of what was going on in Astarion’s mind in Party Favors.

Hello friend!! Thank you for your kind words :)

In response to your question -

Astarion's mindset in Party Favours, a dramatic performance.

Chapter One: oh, Foxglove wants to meet up for lunch! I haven't seen her in 6 weeks, 5 days, and 10.5 hours! time to pretend I don't care at all about her or her silly little wizardry business - ohwaitshesaidshewantstodatemeohgodohno oh wait it's a 'fake dating' situation... i see. time to pretend not to care again. i need to start shopping for suits. she likes it when i wear blue.

Chapter Two: I am going to achieve a good grade in boyfriend, something it is reasonable to want and possible to achieve. (don't have a panic attack, babygirl, you're so sexy and talented. have i mentioned i learned love languages for you?)

Chapter Three: this was my competition! this! she is both absolutely dull, and also awful. she fucking sucks! I hate her! ...I wonder if I could still poison her. I have now admitted that I bought poison with me, so Rosalie would know it was me who did it. I will wait six months, then poison her. Time to go back to getting a good grade in boyfriend.

Chapter Four: I have not been able to charm the pants of Rose, so I will charm the pants of every single one of her coworkers. I'm that bitch. oh no, wizards are hot, even when not casting counterspell. oops, kissed my girlfriend. we're not technically dating yet, but as a magistrate, i think that's mostly an administrative technicality.

Chapter Five: I've got this, I've got this, I've got this, I literally used to seduce people for a living, I've got this-

*followed by just that transition sequence from Twilight: New Moon where the months pass by Bella's window, only Astarion's wearing more eyeliner.*

Chapter Six: Shadowheart has told me Foxglove is in trouble. it's 5 weeks, 3 days, and 19hrs since I last saw her in person, 27hrs since I twitched the curtain aside and caught a glance out of my window at her while she was waiting on the doorstep, but *I'm* mostly doing this out of the kindness of my own heart. oh fuck, I hope I look hot. oh no, wizards are hot, even when not casting counterspell. why does she look sad? oh no. I forgot she was fucking stupid. time to confess my love i guess.

Chapter Seven: error 404 - Astarion not found. *horny static* *horny afterglow static* *dazed 'she said she loved me' static*

Chapter Eight: did I mention I live with my girlfriend now? Yes, we're thriving. Crops? Flourishing. Skin? Clear. Closet? Extradimensional. You fucks all wish you were me. We should get married. No, of course I'm not serious (I'm serious). ok, we'll just fuck in a closet instead. that's fine for now i guess.

[gladiatorcunt]

https://www.tumblr.com/gladiatorcunt/764282120401240064/yall-which-one-of-my-favs-do-you-think-would?source=share

modern coryo... I cant explain it I just sense it

this is so sick and twisted because he’s the first one i thought of too. we’d match each other’s freaks too well, the world would explode. our dynamic would be very (in some ways) wimbledon (2004) bc they start fucking and her tennis career goes downhill but his gets better 💀

i do think that neither of us would be able to explain it either beyond there just being an automatic & deep connection. i’d keep him in the situationship limbo so long it’d beat him at his own game & we’d still fuck on the first actual date. so what did i even do that for 😭

he wants that (my) cookie so bad but i am trying to read/watch iwtv (i’m ranting to him because every moment is torture and he’s like ‘mhm mhm why is lestat playing on a cardboard piano, is he stupid?’) and play video games!!! he’d get jealous of my vibrating controller & fictional characters for sure (he has major beef with astarion)

frequent date spots are boba shops & museums, a weekend thing we do is going to a bookstore, a movie, and then the mall/a street with all the stores i’d want to go to on it bc it’s convenient. heavy consumerism relationship icl, i love media and beyond music and a certain type of films & books i don’t think coryo consumes much. definitely not a brainrot chronically online level, he has things to do lmao.

i think he really values an intelligent partner (at least a bit, to be real he just wouldn’t mesh with someone who’s not, and that doesn’t mean you have to be a genius). and while there would be an instant attraction because i’m so guarded and anxious that i have the aura of black cat on a cactus, my mind is what would make him fall love. in the negative (i can be manipulative in theory/sometimes accidentally in practise and i’m outwardly & irl too clinical/serious to cope) and positive ways (my brain is so big and sexy, i love math with letters and latin).

we’d also spend days in bed taking pictures on my laptop (he likes ones where his skinny body is noticeably being sat on by my fat ass) and literally just breathing in others faces because it’s rare the world is quiet for us, bc we r sick and i’m so!!!!!!!!!!! we’re also both in our own heads more than we verbally talk to other people so we become the best at silent communication over time

i yap about flower language to him literally every time he gives me one/a bouquet and he waits to move on with his day until i’m done, doesn’t acknowledge me with a hum or nod or anything but he doesn’t leave

him teaching me how to swim when we’re not even together oh……… he finds out about this blog before we’re even together and i think he doesn’t know……

immovable object vs unstoppable force

i also want to have kids real bad and it’s not even that he has a breeding kink or is trying to babytrap me (unless i ran away to cause problems on purpose bc i’m avoidant), it’s just the fact that school is so important to me and he knows i’d be too willing to let him get me pregnant during it. like i’d risk my future because i want more of he and i in the world so bad. he necessarily wouldn’t put on a big show with words of making sure you know he’d make all these sacrifices (he speaks vaguely and loves via actions) but he loves someone who does that for him.

but also i’d tell him i’m starving level poor and he’d leak pre in his pants :/, he’d spot the cinderella fantasies and start internally rubbing his hands together

[daehee]

Chapter 8

Get Over Her Bro

*2 month time skip*

It had been about two months since I decided to quit talking to Keita. He tried to convince me otherwise a few times, but I stayed strong. I missed him, but emotionally I think I was more stable. I had made a few more friends since I wasn't constantly hanging out with Keita. I was now best friends with Haruto, Yunjin's boyfriend, and Ricky. They had a friend group that I was slowly starting to hang out with more and get to know. Tonight they were having a party, there would only be a few people in attendance. It was sort of like the party on the first week of school. Currently I was getting ready with Yunjin. The party was partly outside and it was supposed to be really hot outside tonight, so I dressed in clothes that would help me stay cool.

It was a simple outfit, but it was cute... and matched my mood swings lmao. Sometimes I was happy but I was also angry and depressed a lot. I guess... I was right when I thought I would lose Keita.

Keita's POV "Hey man, come on, you gotta get out of bed at some point. There's a party tonight. Small group, it's the 'in crowd,' and its at Ricky's."

"Fine, I'll go."

It had been two months since Hana had just randomly decided to stop talking to me... I had cried every day. I'm not entirely sure what I did, but I have a feeling I said some really upsetting things when I was drunk, and I was rude the next day. I missed her so fucking much. I didn't really know what to do without her... I had never had to even think about it.

I wore a simple white T-shirt and jeans, making myself look presentable enough for this party. I didn't really wanna go, but I also didn't want Haruto or Eric razzing me about being upset over a stupid girl. Well, she's not stupid... I am.

"Hey man, you ready to go?" Eric asked, peaking his head in my room.

"Yeah, let's go."

We made our way to Ricky's parents house. It was a huge mansion on the outskirts of town. It was the weekend so most people would probably be staying the night, but since it was only the in crowd, there wouldn't be many. When we arrived, there were only about 12 people chillin in the huge living room. I don't know why I didn't expect it or think about it at all, but I was shocked when I saw Akahana sitting between Ricky and Yunjin who was sitting on Haruto's lap.

"Ayyy Keita! Nice to see you again man. You finally crawled out of your bedroom huh?"

"I guess I did. It was time." We did our signature handshake that all the boys created.

"You ready to party?"

"Yep."

I sat on the couch across from Ricky, a girl who I had remembered as Jiwoo came and sat down next to me. Oh wait, she's one of Hana's roommates.

"Hi." She chirped happily.

"Hey." I said, smiling at her.

"You're Keita, yeah?"

"Yeah, you're Jiwoo. Hana's roommate."

"Yep!"

"Drink or dare time babeessss!!" Eric yelled happily.

"Man get another game, we play this all the time." Ricky said rolling his eyes.

"Fine, spin the bottle?"

"Nah that's basic man." Some other kid I didn't know spoke up.

"Somebody else come up with it then." Eric huffed, plopping down next to his current boyfriend, Seungho.

"How about sticker stalker, sexy version." (Sticker stalker is the game where you find all the stickers on a persons body while blindfolded.)

"Yesss, quality ideas Ricky!!" I yelled.

"Alright so rules for sexy version. Lace blindfold, you have to take the stickers off with your mouth. If you don't get them all in the two minutes you have, then you have to drink and then makeout with your partner."

"Damn, how'd you come up with that idea Ricky?"

"Somethings are better left unknown."

"Ok then... let's go! Who's up first."

"How about you and Jiwoo, Keita."

"Alright, alright, let's go."

Ricky put the lace blindfold on me while someone loaded Jiwoo up with stickers. When they were done, Ricky led me over to her, stopping me directly in front of her.

"And go!"

I felt with my hands at her neck and felt a sticker, I leaned in to grab the paper between my lips delicately.

"Ayo, no hands bro."

"Sorry, sorry."

I continued, tracing my lips across her skin, trying to find the next sticker. This went on for a few minutes until Ricky told us the time was up. I took of the blindfold, seeing that I did not in fact get all the stickers. Jiwoo and I both took a shot as we were told. Now we had to makeout... I pulled her close to me by her waist, smirking down at her. She smiled back up at me, probably excited for the next part. I closed the distance between the two of us, lightly pressing my lips to hers. I moved my hand to her neck, forcing her to lift her head and deepen the kiss. Our tongues tangled together so perfectly, damn... I'm enjoying this a little too much. After a few more seconds of pure bliss, I pulled away, pecking her lips once more. We sat back down and I saw Hana glaring daggers into Jiwoo's back. I put my arm around her, adding to the effect. 

"Okayyy... I can feel the tension in the air between some people... next couple." Eric pointed out then quickly changed the subject.

"How about Ricky and Hana." Yunjin suggested.

Akahana POV

I cannot believe he just did that in front of me... Keita kissed my roommate like it was nothing. AND SHE FUCKING LET HIM. Like what the hell, does she know what she's doing or is she just fucking stupid.

"How about Ricky and Hana." Yunjin said from next to me. She knew how I was feeling and was probably confused at Jiwoo too. I knew what she was doing, and I was down for it. Quickly before we went up I whispered in Ricky's ear.

"Hey, purposely try not to get all the stickers, I'll put one on my foot, so don't go there ok." Ricky looked at me skeptically but nodded anyway.

Eric wrapped the lace blindfold around his eyes... Holy shit he looked hot like that. His pink lips were parted slightly, his jawline was sharp, and I could see the outline of his buff biceps through his tight black button down shirt. I could also see his pecs because three of the buttons were undone.

Yunjin had finished placing stickers on me, and Ricky moved closer to me. He couldn't see anything, but it felt like he was staring straight down at me. He hovered over me because of his height and it gave me chills. Good God he was hot. He immediately began feeling my skin with his lips. He found the sticker on my cheek, pecking the corner of my lips as he continued on... fuck he's such a tease. He ran his tongue over my neck, purposely teasing me. I inhaled sharply at the feeling of his tongue. Fuckkkk I wish we weren't in front of so many people, why is it so hard not to moan. Crapppp. He found the one on my neck, softly pulling it off with his lips. He went to the other side, pulling that one off too. He kissed down to my collar bone, finding the one down their. Everybody was whooping and hollering at the scene unfolding in front of them. He softly nipped right underneath my collarbone, then ran over it with his tongue.

"Fuck." I whispered lowly. He chuckled and smirked at the effect he knew he was having on me. Our two minutes was eventually over and Ricky had managed to removed all but two; one on my thigh and one on my shoe. Ricky shook his head, slightly chuckling. We took our shot, then we went to kiss. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The intro post for this story has all the chapters listed.

[obscure-reference-girl]

Masks &  Misunderstandings Chapter 3

Pairing: Pavel Chekov/Leonard McCoy

Warnings: Swearing (because it’s Bones),

Word Count: 2558

Summary: Leonard thought that a nightclub where you had to wear a mask was  idiotic, but he humored Jim and accompanied him to the club during shore  leave anyway. After Jim fucked off into the crowd of dancing bodies  without so much as a ‘never you mind’, Leonard went looking for him and  found something unexpected. Meet unexpected: sexy, young, blonde...and  if he reminded him a bit too much of a certain Russian navigator he  wasn't going to linger on that thought.

Chapter Summary: Leonard pines over Pavel, wonders why Sulu is pissed at him (golly gee I wonder), and gets an unexpected call from home.

Author’s note: Thank you so much to everyone joining me on this wild ride!

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45899593/chapters/115963387

The day before his two-week STI test Leonard woke in a cold-sweat with an erection. He had spent the previous two weeks resolutely trying NOT to think about the night at the club. He was managing fairly well if you didn’t include when he was sickbay worrying about his two-week STI test…and whenever Jim was around pestering him, trying to figure out who the mystery man could have been…or whenever he woke up with a raging erection. In other words, he was failing miserably. To make matters worse, the mystery man in his dreams now often bore the face of a certain navigator. This only added to the guilt he felt over the fact that he was masturbating more than he had since high school. Jim wasn’t helping either.

When Jim wasn’t bothering Leonard, he was teasing Chekov about his own shore leave escapade making the young man blush the most enticing shade of pink. A flush that only served to remind Leonard of the flush of pale skin beneath his hands as we worked them over the mystery man’s body. Christine was obviously trying to not say anything, but she kept giving Leonard meaningful glances that obviously meant she thought he needed to talk. To top it off, Spock kept shooting him knowing looks that left no doubt in his mind that Jim had told the hobgoblin everything. Jim just couldn’t resist spilling his guts to his first officer regardless of whether he was even asked.

Leonard had also noticed that Lieutenant Sulu seemed to be avoiding him. They weren’t particularly close, but they has always been friendly. He couldn’t remember doing anything to piss-off the pilot, but Sulu kept glaring at Leonard from across the rec room. A few days previously he had even gotten up and left the table he was sitting at in the mess when Leonard sat down to join him. He made some excuse about being done and needing to get back to the bridge, but he had hardly started on his chicken marsala. Len would ask Chekov what was going on with his best friend if it weren’t for the fact that Leonard couldn’t look at him without thinking about the mystery man and how amazing the sex had been.

It really had been amazing too, and yet it had still left Leonard wanting more. He wanted to know what the man’s mouth tasted like, if he had freckles on his nose and cheekbones to match the ones dusting his shoulders. And Fuck, it wasn’t just the physical side of things either. He wanted to know what the man’s laugh sounded like, what his expression would be when Leonard learned exactly where to touch and caress to draw out those delectable gasps. There was a reason that Leonard didn’t do casual sex, he was a god-damned romantic. Logically, he knew that there was no reason for him to be pining over someone he didn’t even know. For all he knew, he would hate the guy if he actually got to know him. He was a doctor. He knew that what felt like a genuine connection was just dopamine and oxytocin and his neurotransmitters being stupid. Yet, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like if he had done things differently, if he hadn’t seemed to lose all sense. What could have happened? God damn it. He felt ridiculous.

***

Leonard had never quite realized just how much time he spent around Pavel Chekov. You wouldn’t think that a thirty-three year old doctor and a nineteen year old bridge officer would find themselves thrown together particularly often, but it seemed like he couldn’t get away from him. To be fair, Leonard imagined that he spent more time on the bridge than the average CMO. The alpha shift bridge crew was heinously accident prone. He was forever reminding Jim and Spock that they did, in fact, need to eat. And Jim liked to have Len deliver his daily briefings while he sat at command as an excuse to see his best friend. As chief navigator Chekov was included in all senior officer briefings and it seemed like in his off time Chekov was always in medbay doing some equipment update that he’d dreamed up with Scotty. It also didn’t help that they were friends, or at least shared a group of friends. Len always found himself sitting next to Chekov at meals with the other alpha shift crew or sitting across from him at the card table in the rec room - Chekov was shockingly good at Texas hold ‘em and damn if Leonard didn’t find that attractive.

Leonard found himself listening to Chekov babble on about warp cores, dwarf stars, and constellations, things that normally held no interest for Len, but he was suddenly fascinated by whenever it was Chekov explaining it. Similarly, Chekov obliged him by listening to Len carry on about the latest developments in vaccine design and organ regeneration. The kid may not have been a medical officer, but he was a genius. Of course, Jim was also a genius, but he didn’t care a whit about medicine.

The real problem wasn’t that Chekov’s presence had Leonard’s mind in a tail spin of flashbacks to the best sex of his life. Len was learning to live with that. The real problem was that Leonard found himself enjoying spending time with Chekov a little too much.

***

After work, Leonard tried to beg off socialization and escape to his room, but somehow found himself in the rec room playing cards with Scotty, Sulu, and Uhura while Jim and Chekov took turns playing chess with Spock. He was trying to focus on his hand and not the way Pavel’s thumb was pressed against his pillowy lower lip as he chewed on the edge of the nail. Len was about to see Sulu’s call when the communications panel on the wall behind him beeped. He pressed the button and was greeted by the voice of ensign Kelly. Kelly was Uhura’s communications protégé and apparently currently stationed at the comms.

“Hi Dr. McCoy, sorry to interrupt. The computer said you were in the rec room,” Kelly said.

“It’s fine Kelly. What is it?”

“Communication from earth for you sir. Origin Atlanta, Georgia.” Leonard felt his breath leave his lungs. That could only mean one thing, a communication from his parents and daughter. He wasn’t expecting a call which meant that his mind instantly started spinning with all of the injuries his daughter Joanna could have sustained at the farm or on the playground at school.

“Don’t worry sir, it says non-emergent,” Kelly added and Len felt his chest relax. Joanna was his entire world. When his ex-wife Jocelyn left him, she took every last damn thing Leonard had to his name, but she hadn’t gotten Joanna. That was the one thing he had fought tooth and nail over. Though to be honest, Jocelyn had never been the maternal type. She remained in Joanna’s life in a transient capacity, but mostly she was too busy traveling and making her weird-ass art out of interplanetary metals. She certainly had the money to do whatever she damn well pleased with what she had sold their house for. Len and Joanna had moved home to his parent’s farm, but he hadn’t handled being the divorced loser who had to move home very well. He had been drinking too much and decided that Joanna deserved better so he said fuck it and enlisted in Starfleet.

Joanna had lived with her grandparents since Leonard joined up. It had been easier when he was at the academy. He had been able to see her most weekends and didn’t have to miss any school plays or daddy-daughter dances. Things had been considerably more difficult since the Nerada incident and joining the crew of the Enterprise. He saved his leave for whenever they were close enough to earth to make it down to visit her. They also had a standing weekly call during which they ate dinner as a family and Joanna would update him on school, her horse, and any little thing that came to mind. He soaked up every detail, nothing too small or mundane.

           “Should I put it through to the rec room view screen Sir?” Kelly asked. Obviously Leonard had hesitated a little too long, lost in thought.

           “Sure thing.” He said. “Thanks Kelly.”

          Leonard swung chair around fully so that he was seated right in front of the viewscreen and pressed a few buttons to accept the transmission. His parents swam into focus on the screen and he was greeted by his father’s crinkly eyes and his mother’s warm smile.

“Hey Len!” His dad greeted. “I know you and Jo have a call scheduled in a few days, but she just couldn’t wait to tell you-“ He was interrupted by Joanna bouncing onto the screen.

“Hi Daddy,” She exclaimed. Her infectious smile made Len forget about all of his troubles. “I won first place in the science fair!”

“Really, Jo? That’s amazing.” He could practically feel himself glowing with pride. “Your experiment on the effectiveness of dermal regeneration on different species must have been amazing! I knew it would be! You’re always amazing!” She blushed. “I’m glad that Pawpaw was able to get those synthetic skin polymers for you.” His father was a retired surgeon at Atlanta general and still had connections in the research department.

“Actually daddy-“ she began, biting her lip.

“Is that JoJo?” Jim asked brightly as he came to lean over Len’s shoulder.

“Uncle Jim!” She chirped. The captain had been Uncle Jim to Joanna ever since their first break at Starfleet academy when Jim had gone home to visit with Leonard. Joanna had been four years old and unbearably cute. She had ‘Uncah Jim’ wrapped around her finger in about five seconds flat. Leonard and Jocelyn had both been only children so it really was great for her to have more family.

“I was just telling Daddy that I won the science fair!” Joanna informed him.

“That’s great Jo! Hear that guys,” he asked, turning to the others, “Joanna won her science fair!”

Uhura and Sulu gave a cheer and Scotty gave an ‘O’course ya did Lassy!’ The senior crew of the enterprise had become like her extended family.

“It is Joanna?” Chekov asked brightly, sliding into the empty seat next to Leonard. Joanna’s eyes lit up.

“Guess what Pavel, guess what?” Suddenly everyone else in the room ceased to matter. Joanna adored Pavel Chekov. He was energetic and listened to her with genuine interest. She was also fascinated by his job guiding the ship.

“What,” Pavel asked eagerly.

“Our navigational chart of the Andromeda system won!”

“Your what,” Leonard asked in confusion. The last time he had spoken to Joanna he was sure she was planning on dermal regeneration.

“That’s what I was trying to tell you Daddy,” She explained, “After our last call when you had an emergency in sickbay, Pavel and I started talking about the constellations of the Andromeda system and how subspace variations affect their use in navigational charting. I really loved our idea about dermal regeneration, but I wanted to try something new so Pavel’s been helping me with my project!” Len had forgotten about that. The last time he had been talking to Joanna had also been in the rec room. She had wanted to talk with ‘Auntie ‘Hura’ for  a school report on a woman she admired so Leonard had taken the call in the rec room where they could all have a chat. He had been called to sickbay for an emergency and hadn’t been able to make it back before Joanna had been dragged off to bed by his parents. He supposed Chekov must have been there. He knew that Joanna liked Pavel, but he hadn’t realized that she had started to think of him as a part of her little Starfleet family.

“Oh, I-I didn’t realize you knew Lieutenant Chekov quite so well,” He replied dumbly.

“I’m sorry Leonard, I didn’t think to tell you,” Chekov whispered to Len.

“No, no it’s fine,” He said, “I’m just surprised. But that’s great!”

Honestly he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about Chekov becoming more entwined with his family. Of course there was a large part of him that loved it, went all warm and gooey at the thought. But then there was the other part of him that could only think about how much more difficult it would be to ignore his feelings for the younger man.

“Pavel has been wonderful helping Joanna,” Leonard’s mom joined in. Of course he was. Pavel was wonderful with everything. The fact that he was so good with Joanna only made Len fall a little deeper.

“The judges were really impressed with the addition of the sub-space oscillations to the vector equation,” Joanna continued explaining. Leonard just smiled and shook his head in defeat. He was smart of course, but his girl had a mind for physics and space science that she certainly didn’t get from him. It was a good thing that she had Uncle Jim-and apparently Chekov-to help her in that regard.

“Of course they were Joanna,” Pavel exclaimed, “Your ideas were brilliant.” Joanna beamed in response. God Leonard hoped she wasn’t developing a crush on Chekov. That was the last thing he needed. ‘No honey I don’t think that Pavel should be your boyfriend. I was thinking more like your stepfather,’ was not a conversation he ever wanted to have. He took a deep breath and reminded himself that he should have a few years until he had worry about Johanna and boys before returning his attention to the conversation.

“I’m real proud of you JoJo.” Len said warmly.

“Thanks Daddy! I know that you don’t have much extra transmission time on the ship so I’ll let you go now. I just really, really wanted to tell you.”

“I’m glad you did JoJo,” He replied sincerely. “Thanks for the call Mom, Pops,” he added.

“Bye Daddy, I love you!” Joanna chirped.

“Bye sweet pea. I love you too!” He reached forward and ended the call.  Jim returned to his chess game with Spock and the rest of them returned to their cards. Chekov hadn’t moved the chair next to Len so he turned to him and quirked an eyebrow.

“You trying to get my kid interested in space?” He asked with mock disdain.

“You know she already is, Len,” Chekov said with a laugh. “You can blame that one on Jim, not me.”

“Hey, don’t go throwing me under the bus!” Jim hollered from the nearby table.

“It’s true Jim,” Leonard said. “Until ‘Uncah Jim’ came along she wanted to be a ballerina, not a damn starship captain.”

“Your girl’s got drive Len,” Sulu pointed out. “She’ll probably outrank all of us someday.”

“Thanks for helping Jo with her project Pav,” Leonard said turning to the younger man with a warm smile. He knew he looked like a damn fool, but he couldn’t help the rush of affection he felt.  He did his best to return his attention to the game at hand and continue riding the wave of happiness that had blocked out what was coming the next day.

[existslikepristin]

Mamba Class

Prepare your butts because this one is chaotic. Make sure to read the very descriptive tags and get out your ELP wrote something dumb bingo cards. Thank you to @panchatea and @ggidolsmuts for beta reads and editing! I promise they're not responsible for the criminally stupid parts of this story, because I rejected those specific edits. They tried to stop this for everybody's benefit, but despite their efforts, it's here.

Tags: TheLounge, NSFW smut, Aespa, Winter, futa!Karina, Ningning, Giselle, look at the cover and try to guess the pairing(s?), also read Get To Blow You first if you haven’t already, penis-vagina sex, anatomy 101, the ultimate birth control, thoughts of throatfucking, thoughts of anal, thoughts of roleplay, thots of Aespa, thoughts of hatred, thoughts of questionable sexualities, thoughts of heterosexual sex, thoughts of homosexual sex, there’s a lot of thinking about lots of sexual topics okay just read the damn fic, wait there are more tags, bartering for nudes, choking intended to be violent but turns out to be sexy, cunnilingus, creeper photos, panty-stealing, breeding, crying about breeding, and I think maybe some student/teacher roleplay, okay now you can read the fic, thank you for coming to my TED tags

The room was similar to a set on which SM had made them shoot a very low budget video with particularly bad microphones. Tiny school desks with built-in chairs awkwardly set up next to each other in an otherwise bland, flat, entirely purple room. The difference was that this time there were only three desks instead of four, because Karina wasn’t seated. She was dressed as a sexy school teacher and trying—failing—to set up an oldschool overhead projector.

Of course, referring to any of Karina’s outfits as “sexy” was redundant. A pencil skirt, glasses, heels, and white blouse so tight that a button had to be left undone? Yeah. That’s fair. Looking like a sex nuke in some dorky-ass costume, Winter thought. She didn’t resent Karina for being so hot, but she still wasn’t over some portion of her inferiority complex, it seemed.

“Aw, come on,” Karina mumbled, “I had this ancient thing working at home…”

Giselle’s voice was muffled by her arms. “Why didn’t we just stay there, then?” Her boorish behavior matched her look. Her school uniform was worn askew, missing a button or two at both the top and bottom of her dress shirt, her necktie’s knot all the way down to her clavicle, and her stockings were replaced with fishnets. Her head was down, as if she was trying to take a nap.

“Yeah,” said Ningning. She wore her uniform a little differently. The skirt was far too short, the deep-cut shirt was tied up to make it an impromptu crop top, the jacket was left wide open, and she somehow found a pair of hot pink heels to wear over her white calf-length socks. She twirled her hair around her finger. “And why did we have to get dressed up for this?”

Winter scoffed. The other two were barely “dressed up,” unlike her. She’d put some effort in. Her uniform was steam-pressed, her stockings were regulation length, and, well, frankly, she didn’t look like such a god-damned whore. “Stop complaining.” Winter chided them both. “Karina said it was important, so we better listen.”

“Thank you, Winter,” Karina said. Teacher’s pet pride welled up in Winter’s chest. “Now if I could just turn this darn thin—Ah, fuck!” 

Intense light jabbed Karina in the eye as the device flicked on as she peered into the reflectors. She staggered toward the light switch, blinking the residual shadows out of her eyes while the others chuckled. “I read an article online that said creating a clearly defined… ugh.” Karina rubbed at her eye as the light cut out. “A clearly defined educational scenario is good for information retention.”

Ningning gave Winter a confused look. Winter shrugged. She wasn’t in the mood, and it wasn’t the time, to explain big words to the bimbo.

On the wall, upside down, was a cutout diagram of a uterus, arrows pointing at each section. Karina sighed and flipped it right side up. "Who can tell me what this is?"

Winter and Giselle rolled their eyes at each other. Ningning answered, "My baby factory?"

Karina continued, unphased by the blatant disregard for scientific anatomical terminology. "Well, that is its function, kind of, yes. For the sake of ease, I'll be referring to this, collectively, as the vagina, but it's a fascinating piece of biological machinery, capable of creating life!"

"But only if it gets filled to the brim with the creamiest baby batter from a rock hard cock, right?" Ningning asked.

"Yyyes? Sure." Karina moved on, pointing everything out as she said it out loud. "See, here we have the parts you've no doubt seen, the labia majora and minora, the clitoris, and the vaginal opening. Just above is the unfortunately lesser-known urethra. That's where you pee from. And then inside, we have the vagina itself, cervix, uterus, fallopian tubes, and ovaries. These are the sections in which a baby can begin to be created, when a sperm manages to penetrate an egg."

She was interrupted by a loud, fake snore from Giselle. "We know how it wooorks!"

"No, this is good! I didn't know babies were made that far up in my hoohah!" Ningning was doing a great job at playing the ditsy student, though Winter couldn't tell if it was an act or not. "So what you're saying is that you have to really get absolutely flooded with jizz so it's squeezed through those teeny tiny fallcopium tubes?"

Winter scowled. "It's 'fal-OH-pee-in.' And just a little will do. Only one sperm cell has to get to an egg for pregnancy to occur."

"Cell…?" Ningning mumbled.

"Yes, thank you Wint—" Karina said. 

"But," Giselle cut in with a sly grin, "surely more cum gives better chances, maybe even for more babies at once, right?"

Ningning's eyes lit up like they were extra projectors. "I hope so!"

"N—Hey! Let's not get too far off-lesson!" Karina looked flustered.

In spite of that flustering, or maybe partially because of it, Winter still found herself staring every few seconds. She licked her lips. Karina’s tits were the stuff of dreams. Her ass was held tightly by the pencil skirt, which slimmed it down, but it still so clearly flared out from her hips. As she stepped around the fake classroom, adjusting her maybe-fake glasses and pointing at the images on the wall, describing the functions of the female anatomy, the heavy clicking of her pointed heels on the floor gave Winter the kinds of ideas reserved for the bedroom, basement dungeon, and naughty fanfiction (which, considering one of those scenarios is currently relevant, the ideas were like, Karina forcing Winter to lick the heels, pushing them against her throat, etc, all while calling Winter a dirty, dirty girl, and masturbating onto her face. That would be hot, right, you dirty slut? You totally want to read about—).

Winter shook the horniness out of her head and caught back up with Karina’s likely-unnecessary sex ed lesson. She was just finishing the description of stem cell division.

"Now, having explained the basics," Karina stated with a very anime-esque push of her glasses up her nose, "I can explain how our birth control works. Though there are many types, ours has the side benefit of preventing all sexually transmitted infections without requiring barriers like condoms or dams, but it is also one hundred percent guaranteed effective. You see…" She swapped out projector slides to an image of a penis and a vagina, each covered by a ghostly blue sheen. "A nano force field is projected from each cell within the genital region…"

Obviously, Winter was fully aware of how their birth control worked. It was honestly so simple and easy to understand. Therefore, she took the opportunity to fantasize further about Karina. Since the Get to Blow You event, being canonically just over a week earlier, she had avoided Karina in the dorm. Sure, she was feeling quite a bit more confident in herself since then, but not quite so confident as the day itself, and she didn't want to come across as too eager to choke herself near to death on Karina’s footlong schlong at every possible opportunity. Which, for clarity, she was. Eager, that is.

Winter’s imagination ran wild with all of the things she wanted to do with Karina at once. She wanted to dress as a sexy maid and have homeowner!Karina throatfuck her for missing a spot while dusting, be saved from a burning building by firefighter!Karina and resuscitated via throatfuck, and welcome sailor!Karina home from a long voyage with a hug and/or a throatfuck right on the dock… But she fantasized about more than just throatfucking! Winter wanted Karina to bend her over a log on a mountain hiking trail and fuck her pussy, to fuck her ass on an Antarctic science mission, and to lock her in a dungeon and feed her nothing but cum by brutally throatfucking her like a war criminal.

Who’s the war criminal in that one…? Wait, why do I care? Stretch my throat, Karina, fuuuck…

A slap on the arm snapped Winter back to reality. Giselle gave her an “are you an idiot” sort of look and pointed at her mouth. Only then did Winter notice that she’d been drooling. She quickly wiped the throat lubricatio—drool away and looked back up at Karina just in time to catch the last sentences of the lecture.

“Therefore, as hot-blooded hot girls with large networks of extremely attractive friends…” Karina spun around to face the schoolgirls again, her tits coming to rest shortly after the rest of her stopped moving. “We are now perfectly within our rights (and expectations) to engage in any sexual activity we wish, with zero percent chance of pregnancy! Any questions?”

Winter assumed there would be no questions, but was immediately proven wrong.

“WHAT?!” Ningning screamed.

Karina blinked. “What… what?”

“ZERO PERCENT CHANCE OF PREGNANCY?!” That time, everybody covered their ears. They could still hear Ningning just fine.

“Um, yeah.” Giselle took a turn to respond. “That’s kind of exactly the point of ‘birth control.’”

“BIRTH CONTROL LETS YOU CONTROL WHEN YOU’RE GOING TO HAVE A BABY! IT’S IN THE NAME!”

“Technically yes, but like, by preventing it. It’s not like a remote con—”

Ningning’s next scream didn’t consist of words. It was an incoherent banshee wail. Winter stood up to slap a hand over her mouth. “God, Ningning! Calm the fuck down. What’s the big deal?” She pulled her hand away just in time to avoid being bitten.

“You can’t…” Ningning stuttered hard, “You can’t— You c— You can’t— You can’t— YOU CAN’T TELL ME— You can’t tell me about how baby-making works, getting me all hot and worked up, just to say I CAN’T DO IT ANYMORE! I DIDN’T SIGN UP FOR THIS!”

Winter would have planted her hands on her hips, but she still needed them to prevent hearing loss. “Yeah you did. Idol contract bullshit. Don’t worry, though. It’s reversible.”

Ningning stood up slowly, gripped the collar of Winter’s shirt, got inches away from her face, and whispered menacingly. She shook with the kind of rage a momma bear would have if she found out she didn’t actually have any babies to momma and wouldn’t be having any any time soon, which was an appropriately specific type of rage for the situation. Her enormous eyes were far wider than usual. “Hhhooowww?”

Winter shook too, but with the kind of fear that a puppy would have if confronted with a momma bear shaking with the kind of rage a momma bear would—everybody got the point.

“You can just get it reversed, Ningning,” Karina said, cautiously stepping forward. “After our contracts expire.”

Ningning’s head snapped over to her. “THAT’S GOING TO BE YEARS FROM NOW AND I WANNA GET BRED!”

“Babe,” Giselle said, far too calmly for the situation, “we work for SM. We get bread every daaay. Hahaaa—Shit.”

Giselle had to jump out of and behind her desk to put it between herself and Ningning, who let go of Winter to go on a new warpath. “THIS IS NO TIME FOR YOUR JOKES! I! NEED! BABIES!”

The action movie played out in a half circle around Winter. Giselle faked a twitch in one direction, then broke in the other, running past Karina and behind Ningning’s desk just in time to dodge a grab. Unfortunately for her, the previous momma bear analogy proved quite apt, as Ningning picked the desk up and tossed it backward, narrowly missing Winter and smashing into the room’s fourth wall. It hurt your knees.

Before Ningning got her (a sufficiently vague phrase for the incoming violence, in Winter’s mind), Giselle threw up her hands, winced back, and quickly shouted, “Hol’uptheresanotherway!”

Ningning squinted. "What do you mean, ‘another way?’"

Giselle continued with her arms still mostly in front of her face. "Well you see, the birth control—"

"Birth prevention," Ningning corrected, incorrectly.

"Sure. Birth prevention can only take so much of a beating before it gives out. If it gets hit by too much semen, surely it will let the sperm through and you'll get pregnant."

Winter and Karina stared at each other. Karina mouthed something like, What is she saying?

Winter responded with a similarly soundless, How am I supposed to know what nonsense Giselle is spouting? It’s an obvious lie, but I honestly hope it gets Ningning to calm down. I fear for my safety. It seemed that Karina didn’t catch all of that, so, rather than try again, Winter just shrugged. It seemed to get across the necessary part of the message.

Ningning gazed into the vacuum of space. “Too much semen…” she whispered dreamily, “Extreme breeding…”

Giselle raised her eyebrows, put down her arms, and smirked. “Um, yes. Exactly. Extreme breeding is your best bet. You’ll have to try real, real hard though, you know? Just like, constant fucki—” She was interrupted by a stern throat-clearing and glare from Karina. “I mean, just once a week, when you’re ovulating.”

“Once a week?!” Karina interjected. “What happened to the information retention from my lecture?!”

Ignoring her entirely, Giselle continued. “Yeh, totally. Or yeah, like however long it takes you to ovulate. Just ask Karina to fuck you until your womb is overflowing and eventually the birth… prevention will break and you’ll get totally super preggo.”

Ningning blinked back out of her daydream and pointed back at the teacher. “Karina?”

“Yup,” said Giselle.

Silence.

“What?” asked Ningning.

Giselle rolled her eyes. “Well she’s got a huuuge dick, and jizzes like, multiple gallons at a time.” She gestured at Karina, then made repeated “bursting” motions with her hand, accompanying them with explosion noises.

Well, that’s not awkward at all, Winter thought.

Ningning’s eyes met Karina’s, but once again the room was silent (besides Giselle’s continuing explosive ejaculation sounds).

“Is that true?” Ningning eventually asked.

Karina cringed and scratched her eyebrow. “I mean… it’s not that big.”

“Why wouldn’t you tell me about that?! I love cocks!”

“You… Ningning, you just turned eighteen. It’s only early-to-mid-December of 2020 right now, remember?” Karina reminded the reade—her members of when this story took place. Winter nodded, her blonde-blue hombre hair waving around her shoulders as she did. Giselle also confirmed that she was, in fact, still blonde, in case you forgot.

“That’s given me at least a month and a half to discover my love of dick! How do you know I haven’t been getting bred since Halloween.”

Karina took a deep, frustrated breath. “You lost your virginity last week. I literally had to pull Hyunjin’s dick out of your pussy, and you screamed at me in front of him for ruining your first time.”

“Yeah, but—”

“He ran away. You didn’t even ask him if… It’s fine. We’ve been over this.”

“I know. I know.” Ningning didn’t sound especially sincere. “Ask for consent. I remember. Will you please destroy my birth prevention with your explosively powerful jizz missile, Karina?”

“What? I’m not going to do th—”

Ningning growled, clenched her fists in front of her chin, and shook with the kind of rage a momma bear—everybody. Got. The point.

“Damn! Fine!” Karina shouted. “Just… show me your tits so I can get in the mood… maybe.”

Ningning’s entire demeanor shifted from mad momma mammal to cheery Chinese chipmunk at record speed. She spun on her heels and, facing away from Karina, worked to untie the knot holding her shirt together.

Karina huffed, sighed, and lifted her pencil skirt, cinching it around her waist. The look on her face was very much that of one who was done with the situation they’d been forced into. The look on Winter’s face was very much that of one who was on the verge of drooling (again). Karina’s underwear couldn’t contain her enormous dick, so it was, for all intents and purposes, as if she wasn’t wearing any. It hung, bare, against her right leg. Winter marveled at it, wondering how it hadn’t been visible before, since it seemed to reach down further than the skirt had.

As the leader and maknae prepared for what was sure to be a mighty fucking, Giselle walked back over to Winter. She looked strangely impressed. “What a strange turn of events, huh?”

“If you say so.” Winter shrugged. “It seems a little contrived though, like something Rina would write. Oh, but you knew about Karina’s penis too, huh?”

“Haha, hell yeah. It’s fucking awesome, right?” The two high fived each other. Winter immediately regretted high fiving to the objectification of her biggest crush.

Wait, Giselle has seen her cock… Surely, that must have been in the last few days, Winter thought.

Ningning finished untying her shirt, and started turning back around to face Karina with her chest fully exposed. “I hope you know what you’re talking about Giselle, because I really can’t wait until the end of my contract to get knocke—DADDY OF GOD!”

“Ha!” Winter fake-laughed and playfully jabbed Giselle in the rib. “That’s what I said when I first saw it too.”

“You said ‘daddy of god?’” Giselle asked in a mocking tone.

Ningning was on her knees in front of Karina within seconds, lifting the magnificent member to eye level. “Is this real life?”

“Well not exactly.” Winter corrected herself. “I said ‘mother of god,’ not ‘daddy,’”

“Oh, that’s funny. I said ‘mommy.’” Giselle smirked, pulled her desk closer to Winter’s, and sat down.

Rubbing the stress out of her eyes, Karina said, “Yes. It’s real.”

“‘Mommy of god’ or just ‘mommy?’” Winter asked.

Giselle nodded, “‘Mommy of god,’ yeah.”

“And you’ll fuck a baby into me with it?” Ningning’s eyes sparkled.

Karina sighed. “Yeah, I guess. Go ahead and take off your panties.”

“That really is funny,” Winter said, then lowered her voice, “Do you think the first time Karina saw her own cock she said ‘father of god?’ Because if she did, it would be like… full circle, you know? ‘Father, Mother, Mommy, Daddy.’”

“Panties? Why would I be wearing panties?”

“Y-you!” Karina gawked. “Why would you be weari—Why wouldn’t you in a skirt that short?!”

“In case I get pregnant, duh. The baby has to be able to breathe, you psycho.”

Giselle gave Winter a curious look. “That was a weird order to say those in.”

“Well I’m just saying them in the order they happened.” Winter sat back down as well. “Clearly Karina saw her own dick first, then me a little bit ago, then you, and now Ningning.”

“Gorl, I’ve been on that cock for like a year now.”

Winter’s jaw dropped. “‘Been on?’ What’s that mean?”

“You know, like bouncing on it.” Giselle leaned closer and whispered, “Gettin’ fuuucked.”

Winter was glad she was sitting. It wasn’t a surprise that Giselle might have had sex with Karina, but… This… fucking, Winter thought, She… she fucked Karina before me? What a goddamn whore! Of course, it made sense to Winter that Karina would fuck Ningning before fucking her. Karina was being compelled to do so for the sake of saving everybody’s lives. It was a heroic sacrifice that Winter got to watch.

She couldn’t look at Giselle anymore without fuming, so she instead turned her full attention toward Karina and Ningning. Ningning was already on the floor, on her back, with her legs folded almost behind her head. Karina was on her hands and knees, letting Ningning guide her dick.

The scene was actually quite ideal. Winter could watch and maybe deduce what things Karina liked, in a sexual sense. This was just a good experiment, and she wouldn’t let Giselle being a massive Karina-thieving slut ruin her observation. Just because Giselle was a dumb whore who might have taken Karina’s precious virginity while Winter was completely unaware didn’t mean she had to dwell on it while her panties got soaked by watching Karina fuck Ningning who was also quite attractive and had a lovely ass with her beautiful, gorgeous cock and her equally beautiful ass and legs gently guiding herself downward toward the awaiting cavern of—Goddammit Giselle you fucking tramp bitch slut.

Juices subtly bubbled around Karina’s cock as she sunk into Ningning’s pussy.

Winter was torn between her mild disgust at how obscenely wet Ningning was and her not-so-mild horniness. She glanced at Giselle, despite still being disgusted and/or jealous, to see if, perhaps, Giselle was masturbating, in case she could use that as an excuse to begin doing so herself. She was disappointed to see that wasn’t the case. In fact, Giselle was resting her head in her arms like she was going to try to sleep through the scene in front of them.

"OOOH YES, DADDYYY!" Ningning screamed as Karina came close to bottoming out. There was already a small puddle forming under Ningning’s raised butt.

"D-don't… why would you call me that?" Karina asked to entirely no avail, as Ningning only kept screaming.

"OPEN MY CERVIX, DADDY! MAKE BABIES IN ME WITH YOUR HUGE PENIS!"

Winter kicked at Giselle’s desk, offended that a dumb slut wench wouldn’t take interest in the most beautiful woman in the world. "Hey," she whispered, "Hey! Aren’t you going to watch? This was kind of your idea."

Giselle grunted and kicked Winter’s desk in return. "I can hear it just fine."

"But, you're missing out on the action…"

Sitting part-way back up, Giselle revealed her phone in her lap, camera pointed under her desk and toward the aforementioned action. "Oh I'm not missing anything."

"PREGNANT ME!"

“You’re—! You’re recording this?!” Winter hissed.

“Obviously. This was basically my plan all along. The spank bank has been running a little low on funds if you know what I mean.”

Karina turned her head over her shoulder. “What are you guys talking abou—”

“MAKE MY VAGINA A BED AND BREAKFAST!” Ningning was somehow, even with her legs pinned so far over her head, still able to thrust back up into Karina. Winter couldn’t tell who, but one of them squeaked when their pelvises smashed together. Given that Ningning was providing all the evidence in the world that she was a screamer, Winter could only assume the squeak was Karina’s, which made it absolutely adorable. Again, Winter’s imagination ran wild. If she could deepthroat Karina fast enough, suddenly enough, maybe she could hear that same sound again.

Oh fuck, if she did that I would cum on the spot. Wait… Giselle… Spank bank?

Winter very loudly scooted her desk closer to Giselle’s and hushedly repeated her thoughts verbally. “Giselle… Spank bank?”

“Hell yeah, spank bank. If I’m horny without a girl nearby, what else am I gonna do but jill one out?”

“No I get it I know what that is I mean what’s in it?” Winter asked with minimal punctuation.

Giselle smirked and lifted her phone, hitting the stop button on the camera and changing screens a few times at an angle Winter couldn’t see.

“JIZZ IN ME! JIZZ IN ME! JIZZ IN ME!”

“We just started, Ningning! Calm down!”

Winter felt bad that Karina had to deal with a weird semen demon all by herself, but was nonetheless far too invested in seeing whatever Giselle, who was still a stupid little harot to be clear, was about to show her. She shoved her desk even closer, trapping Giselle in place.

“Don’t tell Karina,” Giselle whispered, “but she only knows about half of these, roughly… Ah, this one’s my favorite.”

The concept of Giselle having spank bank-able pictures without Karina’s knowledge gave Winter pause, but her horny mind took over the moment Giselle turned the phone around. Winter gasped. Displayed in the highest of resolutions was a selfie Karina took, lifting one of her breasts with her free hand and sucking on her own nipple.

Heart rate reaching a thousand beats per minute, Winter snatched the phone from Giselle’s hand to get a closer look. She was so engrossed in the image she didn’t register that she was soaking through her panties and onto her desk chair. Even Ningning’s screaming faded into the background.

But Giselle’s words cut through. “And there’s more.”

The urgency with which Winter’s fingers flicked the phone would have appalled her if she had the wherewithal to judge herself. Photo after photo flew by. Giselle’s phone was a perverted pirate’s dream booty’s worth of Karina booty. How?! How can she have all of this?!

Some of the pictures were clearly taken by Karina herself. From the multiple angles of titty sucking, to feet pics, to dildo kissing, to full-body mirror shots of both flaccid penis and erect penis varieties, to outfit show-offs, to a picture of her looking into the camera while eating Giselle out, to awkwardly taken butt shots, to a five second video of her slowly jerking her cock. Some of the pictures seemed dubious, such as a picture of Karina wrapped in a towel walking through their living room in low light, a picture clearly taken through a cracked door of Karina double-penetrating herself with dildos, and one taken in the laundry room, taken from behind as Karina bent over with nothing but panties… Winter squinted at that picture. The butt didn’t look big enough to be Karina’s…

“Giselle, this one isn’t Karina.”

“Oh, uh… let me see. Must have put the normal porn I downloaded in the wrong fold—”

“That’s me!”

Winter dodged Giselle’s attempt to take the phone back. Did she say the wrong folder? She tapped the back button and looked at the folder name, “tits.” One more back button and she was greeted with another, named “best gorls” with three folders inside, titled “tits,” “eyes,” and “flat.”

The subsequent game of Keep-The-Phone-Away-From-Giselle was accompanied by a string of profanity that no author should ever reproduce, and resulted in Giselle’s head stuck in a leglock as they scrambled onto the floor. Winter managed to open the “flat” folder mid-scuffle and found it full of official promotional photos of herself, as well as pictures Giselle clearly took without her permission or awareness that mostly involved Winter in compromising positions and states of undress around the dorm.

Just before Winter could shout to Karina, who seemed otherwise very preoccupied with the screaming and creaming girl she was press-mating, Giselle choked out a “Wait!”

Winter glared down, honoring the last wish of a soon to be dead woman. “What?”

“Don’t say anything! I’ll share!” Giselle strained, face turning red, “All of it!”

A folder full of—Winter hit the back button to check—one thousand four hundred and seventy-three sexually charged pictures and/or videos of Karina minus at least one that was actually of herself surely couldn’t convince Winter to ignore the creepiness and privacy violations required to obtain them. But, when Winter looked to the side, Karina’s colossal, jackhammering cock immediately changed her mind.

“Fine. But I get to delete all of mine.”

“Okay cool.” Giselle’s face was slightly purple. “Also don’t stop, Mommy.”

Winter released her from the leglock. “The hell did you just say?”

Giselle gasped for air, face shifting back to its normal coloration. “I said ‘okay cool also don’t stop mommy.’ Because I wanted you to keep choking me with your beautiful thighs and maybe do other violent and or nasty things to me.”

“RELEASE YOUR EGGS AND LET THEM PENETRATE MY SPERMS, KARINA!”

“That’s not how it works!” Karina shouted.

Winter groaned. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

Winter averted her gaze to stare at the Karina x Ningning action again. She was extremely turned on by the sight. In fact, she was turned on by just about everything that was happening in the room, except for Giselle being a pretty slut between her legs and probably willing to do whatever sexual favors Winter might ask for. Why do you have to be cute too? God… I’m not that gay. Just a lot for Karina… and a little bit gay for Ningning maybe? And if I ever got to fuck Taeyeon, that would be awesome. And there was that one time… Dammit.

Winter never did make good on Karina’s offer to have sex, and she didn’t release any of that pent up energy on anybody else. She must have been affected by the lack of affection. Affection, in this case, being sex.

She sighed heavily, resigning to her horny fate. “How about you just kiss me, Giselle?”

“You got it—Do you mean your face or under the skirt?”

“I mean…” Winter rubbed her eyes with one hand, and touched her panties with the other. They were still quite wet. “Dammit, yeah. Down here.”

Giselle pumped a fist. “Fuck yeah! You won’t regret this, Winter!”

“I already do. Oh and you’re still a harlot and I hate you.”

With minimal effort, Giselle lifted Winter enough to remove the soaked panties, which she tossed back to her own desk, next to her bag. “Hot damn, yes. Call me more smart mean names. OH! And feel free to look through my gallery there, and delete whatever you want, and choke me out with your thighs if any of it makes you like, really mad.”

“Just blow me Giselle.”

Giselle did as she was told, putting Winter’s clit in her mouth and sucking right away.

“FOUR HUNDRED BABIES!”

Winter hummed and laid her head down, doing her best to relax to the calming, spa-like sounds of Ningning’s high-decibel demands for semen. But relaxing was difficult. The floor wasn’t especially comfortable, she was lying to herself about the screaming being calming, and it pissed her off a little bit that Giselle was immediately proving to be good at eating pussy.

There was a silver lining to each negative though. The floor may have been uncomfortable, but she couldn’t deny the incredible view of Karina’s ass. The screams may have been disturbing, but Ningning’s enthusiasm was… arousing. And Winter may have been pissed, but Giselle was really, really good. In fact, she was great. Her lips were soft like Hyungwon’s, her tongue was quick like Jooheon’s, she nuzzled her nose into Winter’s clit like IM, and she squeezed Winter’s thighs the same cute way Kihyun did. Surely, one woman couldn’t be the pussy eating equivalent of an entire boy band.

Winter begrudgingly wove her fingers into Giselle’s hair and scratched lightly, to let Giselle know to keep going the way she was going, and to hopefully get the message across that Giselle was a homewrecking bitch who didn’t deserve Karina’s angelic cock. Giselle moaned at the scratching, which was at least some kind of acknowledgement. Acknowledgement of which part, however, Winter was starting not to care.

“Keep… uh… fuck, god,” Winter muttered. Her hands shook, but she still got Giselle’s phone up to her face. She started tapping the delete button on any pictures of herself she didn’t recognize. Winter couldn’t even remember when she had been watching a movie in the living room without pants, and yet there she was, bare ass cheeks clear as day (through a piece of sheer fabric and between the legs of a coffee table). Do I always sit like that? What was I think—I was thinking we were in private and nobody was staring at my ass!

“GIMME GIMME GIMME YOUR CUM DADDY KARINA YEEES!”

After deleting twenty or thirty dirty pictures, Winter’s mind wandered too far south to think about the pictures anymore. When she looked down, Giselle looked back up, pouting with her eyes, but only doubling her effort on Winter’s pussy. Stupid slut, Winter thought, trying to seduce me with those big, pretty, bedroom eyes and her rebel kid makeup and her stupid, pretty…

“God dammit!” Winter tore her eyes away from Giselle, opting instead to look at the true, ultimate object of her desire, which was definitely Karina, and not Giselle’s stupid face.

“Shit, are you okay? Did I scrape you? I thought I was keeping my teeth—”

“Keep licking, whore!”

Giselle’s mouth instantly engulfed her pussy again, and Winter could feel herself involuntarily smirking.

Sex was in the air itself, and it fueled Winter’s horniness. She watched Karina’s legs as they strained to not only hold her up but bounce her up and down over Ningning. For a moment, she indulged herself in the fantasy of being in Ningning’s place (not that Winter ever indulged in fantasizing normally).

The fantasy didn’t last long though. Karina’s thrusts were becoming erratic. It had only been a few minutes, but it appeared that she was on the verge of orgasm. Winter only saw a bit of her face, but suddenly felt the need to turn on Giselle’s camera again. She got it filming at the perfect moment to catch Karina whimpering. “N-ningning… Fuck I’m gonna—”

“CUM DADDY?! YOU’RE GONNA FILL ME? JIZZ? CREAMY JIZZ CUM IN MY MOMMY WOMB MAKE ME PREGNANT?”

Up until that moment, Winter thought she would never see someone droop their head in shame at the moment of orgasm, but that’s exactly what she saw when Karina’s balls tensed up.

“Yyyeah… I’m cumm—”

“YYYESSS! CUM CUM CUM! GIMME BABY JUICE! BREED MY PUSSY!”

Winter was shocked at the volume of semen that burst out of Ningning, around Karina’s dick. She distinctly remembered struggling to swallow all of it previously. Actually, I didn’t swallow it all, I guess. Some went straight down my throat, then I swallowed some, and then I kissed the last mouthful into Karina… Oh my god, I kissed Karina’s cum into her mouth and made her swallow it… I’m so goddamn awesome. Winter had that exact train of thought at least once a day for the prior week, and it never got old.

No matter how goddamn awesome she was though, Winter still felt jealous watching Karina’s cream pouring. Ningning was getting all of it by being batshit crazy. All Winter had to do was ask. Hell, she could probably lick it off as it passed Ningning’s asshole.

Ningning bit her lip with a smile as Karina pulled out slowly, inch after still-hard inch pulling her further off the floor like a hydraulic jack until popping free. Karina didn’t get far, as Ningning grabbed her by the waist and hooked her legs over Karina’s shoulders. “More? Dreamy daddy cum cum more?”

What little of Karina’s face was visible to Winter revealed terror, so Winter shut off the camera and chimed in. “You know, Ningning, it can take a while for semen to build up in potency. She’s going to need some time to recuperate if you want the maximum chances of making a baby.”

“But how looong?”

The way Ningning said “long” made it sound like a euphemism for Karina’s dick, which was accurate.

“Wwweek—Months, potentially…” Karina sighed. “Yeah, like it jumps from two percent to thirty if you give it a good two months.”

“But that’s… so…”

Winter stopped listening as Ningning started crying. She opened Giselle’s gallery again, and got back to work deleting creep pictures, simultaneously enjoying the apology cunnilingus (Winter assumed it was an apology). Dropped an earbud under the car seat and bent over with her ass up? Deleted. Brushing her teeth in the living room with her nipples poking through her shirt? Deleted. Just a straight up picture of her unwashed panties in a laundry basket? Deleted.

Then Winter passed a selfie Giselle took with her (which Winter was willing to pose for at the time). She remembered that night. They were both a little drunk, and took at least twenty pictures before they settled on one that wasn’t blurry, and neither of them looked like idiots. She scrolled past only to find Giselle had kept them all, twenty-three to be exact. Winter groaned. She didn’t delete the bad ones… They’re just phone pics… It was probably more effort to delete them than organize them…

Trying not to think about it too much, Winter flipped the camera back on and pointed it down at Giselle, snapping a photo while she was too occupied to notice. She navigated back to the gallery and moved the new picture of Giselle’s face between her legs into the “flat” folder, then quickly renamed the folder to “Thighs,” then renamed it again to “PERSONALITY.” Content with the final result, Winter closed the phone, closed her eyes, and laid back again to try and enjoy her treatment.

“Winter? Giselle? What are you doing?”

The cunnilingus stopped, and Winter popped her eyes back open. She stared up at Karina, who was still mid-hug with a quietly sobbing Ningning.

“Uh… nothing! Just, um, demonstrating… your lesson to Giselle. She wanted to, uh, see the urethra up close. So unfortunate how few people know about it.”

“Oh! That was part of my lesson! You retained the information!”

Winter’s heart fluttered at the exhausted pride that shone off of Karina’s cheeks.

“So.” Giselle sat up, adjusting her unkempt clothes to her preferred style of unkemptness. “Ningning. You feeling successfully bred?”

Ningning sniffed. Her lips quivered. “I… I don’t know. Maybe. Do I look bred?”

Giselle stood up and hugged her. “Awww, babe. You look super bred. And sooo super fertile. Do you want some extra fertility tea? I can make you some.”

Transferring her clinging from Karina to Giselle, Ningning gave a sad nod. “Mhm. Can I have another cock after that?”

Karina looked incredulous.

“Of course, honey. Let’s get you that tea to warm up your womb and call around to find you a big juicy cock.” Giselle grabbed her bag from her desk and walked out of the room, arm wrapped around Ningning’s shoulders.

Winter tried to roll her eyes, but stopped when they pointed at Karina’s dick, exposed and dripping a couple of viscous liquids. It was hanging, so Winter assumed it was going soft, but it still nearly touched Karina’s knees.

Following Winter’s eyes down, Karina shoved her skirt back down. The tip of her cock still poked out from the bottom. “Oops. Sorry. Didn’t mean to flash you… I guess you just saw all of that though. Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No! No, it’s fine. Yeah. You did what you had to do.”

“Yyyup, I guess I did, didn’t I?”

“Definitely, yeah. You joined this precinct to save lives, and by jove that’s exactly what you’re going to do!” Winter chuckled nervously. Why am I nervous? I’m just alone with Karina and just watched her fucking and I can still see her cock and I just want her to throatfuck me.

Karina smiled. “I… don’t get it, but yeah, totally!”

Winter cleared her throat and tried to build up some courage as quickly as possible. “Sooo, Karina. You know, we should really fuck when we get home. Just go for it as soon as you want to. Don’t even… stop?” She gestured wildly, unsure of what to do with her hands, like a news reporter whose teleprompter got taken away. “Push me onto a bed and… pick a hole, right? Don’t… take no for answer. An answer. I’m not tired. I don’t have a headache… So we should definitely have sex as soon as we’re out of here… I mean at home, obviously… How about you say something back to me about it? Like as soon as possible.”

Karina was stuck on pause, the corners of her lips pulled back like she was trying not to laugh. She stayed that way for far, far too long. At least four seconds.

“Oh my god, Karina, respond to my sexual proposition quickly!”

“You’re adorable, you know.” Karina grabbed Winter’s hand and wove their fingers together, turning Winter into Spring faster than an oil company. “I’d be happy to take you up on that. I could use something normal after… today.”

“When you say ‘normal,’” Winter said, pulling herself closer to Karina and into a sort of questioning hug, “are we talking about a blowjob and P-in-V? Or could it be possible to negotiate for, say, a throatpie?”

Karina hummed against Winter’s ear, soaking her panties for the umpteenth time that day. The only difference was that Winter was no longer wearing underwear. She looked over Karina’s shoulder and scowled. Giselle’s bag was gone, and so were her panties. Oh, I am definitely going to choke her out with my thighs.

“I don’t think I can say no to you, Winter, but I don’t actually know what that means.”

Winter smiled. “Let me tell you all about it on the way home… And also demonstrate.”

[ppersonna]

swipe right - jjk | m

“ i wanna ruin our friendship. we should be lovers instead. i don't know how to say this, cause you're really my dearest friend “ - jenny, studio killers

♡ summary-  after a horrible breakup, you sign back up for tinder and ironically match with your best friend, jungkook. a date for fun is harmless, right?

♡ genre- best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, jk is a minecraft streamer, brother namjoon, brother-in-law jimin, namjoon is kind of a himbo stay at home dad ngl, ex-boyfriend seokjin (mentioned but doesnt show up)

♡ word count- 9k

♡ warnings- mentions of a bad breakup (smh seokjin wtf??), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (u know the business folx), oral sex (m receiving), teasing, SO MUCH BODY WORSHIP, jk is a simp, slight dirty talk, lots of just talking during sex yall it happens, creampie, cum play, praise praise body worship praise, did i mention body worship, tit-fucking, cum eating, i think thats all.

♡ a/n - helloooo and thank you for your wait for this fic! i’m so happy its done and i loved writing it! it’s a little bit different feel for my usual style of writing (smut-wise) so please tell me your thoughts! i didn’t use dom/sub themes OR a daddy kink LMAOOOO praise me please. i hope you enjoy!! pls feel free to comment, chat, message, carrier pigeon, email, mail, WHATEVER U WANT, me. i love u babies. thank you to @kimtaehyunq​ for the sexy banner. and for @xjoonchildx @ladyartemesia​ @untaemedqueen​ for the writing support and idea generation. i would be nothing without my council. and thank you to my beta editors @hobi-gif and @ughseoks​ and @hongism​ for the perusal and help in writing this!

Jungkook is the person you call when your world falls apart.

He answers, voice raspy from the late hour, and the second he asks you what’s wrong, the downpour of torrential tears you’ve been holding back finally escapes and you’re sobbing through the phone that you just lost the love of your life—that he left and with little effort on his part, and a lot on yours.

Jungkook listens to you—his heart aching deep in his chest at hearing the utter heartbreak that’s clear in your voice. You’ve never been hurt like this, and he’s desperate to hold you, to make it go away. He wants to drive over to Seokjin’s house and throw a left hook into his stupid, handsome face for making you feel you weren’t worth it.

Because if there’s anything in the world that Jungkook knows, it’s that you’re worth it. You’re worth everything. Add up all the money and all the gold in the entire world, and it still doesn’t meet a fraction of what you’re worth to him.

“Where are you?” He asks as he cradles the phone against one arm and pulls on his jeans.  

You sniffle. “Jungkook, it’s 3 am.”

“So? I was up playing Minecraft,” He lies. “Where are you?”

You can’t help but laugh the tiniest bit, a sliver of warmth wrapping itself around your raw and exposed heart. Like a balm to a flesh wound. It doesn’t heal it, not yet.

“I’m at our park.”

Jungkook smiles as he grips the phone back in his hand. The park. The place you and Jungkook spent your childhood playing make-believe games, and formative teenage years loitering around smoking clove cigarettes to look cool.

“Give me five minutes, okay?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. 

“Okay.”

Jungkook arrives with two minutes to spare. His beat up Nissan that he insists is “vintage” and “priceless” idles next to you.

He can see you through the darkened glass of your car—your mascara is running down your face, tears streaked through your flawlessly applied makeup.

You still look so beautiful.

And it angers Jungkook that all that time you spent looking good for Seokjin meant nothing to him.

He motions for you to come over, pats the passenger seat next to him and smiles as he watches you open the door and slide into the security of his familiar car.

“You cleaned your car,” you murmur as you notice a severe lack of McDonald’s trash.

He sniffs haughtily. 

“The trash added character.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to respond. Instead, he’s unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling you as close to him as he can get you. The instant his arms wrap around your body, the floodgates open again and your once-quieted tears turn back into full-fledged sobs.

“I loved him,” you gasp through the pain in your throat.

He rubs your back, pats your hair gently, soothing you the way he has for years now. Through every breakup, through every family fight with your older brother Namjoon, through all the mean girls in high school. Jungkook is the north star—always consistent, always guiding you back to safety.

“I know, babe,” he sighs. “You deserve someone who’s going to treat you right, who’s not just going to give up when things get hard.”

You choke back a cry against his Patagonia hoodie and bury your face further into the crook of his neck. He smells like Old Spice and the shampoo he uses, along with the smell of laundry soap you buy for him—he uses dish soap when he runs out and nearly broke his washing machine last time.

“I thought he was the one. I’m so stupid.”

Jungkook swallows hard. Tonight is about comforting you, not about feeling sorry for himself that you’re his best friend and not his girlfriend. He can’t help but think of what kind of life he would give you. He knows it’s one that wouldn’t end with you crying in a parking lot at 3 AM.

“You’re not stupid, you just loved him. And there’s nothing stupid about loving someone, even if it doesn’t work out,” he sighs as he cradles your head against him. It feels right having you there, pressed up against him and seeking comfort from the solace of his arms.

“Let’s go get a milkshake, yeah?” He asks as you pull your head up and look at him with sad, glassy eyes.

“Yeah,” you nod after a moment of staring.

Jungkook’s eyes sparkle with love, with hope. It makes the desperate, alone feeling inside you—disappear. Jungkook presses a soft kiss to your forehead and then starts the shaky ignition of his car, that takes three cranks of the key before it turns over.

He sends you a look, a laugh evident on your face.

“Don’t even start,” he warns. “The engine is fine.”

“Whatever you say,” you snort as you wipe an errant tear from your face.  

“It’s a certified classic car! I could get millions for this baby!”

As the weeks pass, the pain of losing Seokjin becomes further and further from your mind. You can get through the day without crying anytime you see something that reminds you of him and even start flirting with others without feeling like you’re cheating.

You just still haven’t reached the point where dating someone else even feels possible. You’re terrified of allowing someone close to you, letting them into a place where you’re inviting them to possibly hurt you. You’re not sure your heart is ready for it. 

“I think you’re just scared,” your older brother Namjoon states as he warms up a bottle of milk in boiling water. 

He cradles his new baby in one arm while the other works at the bottle of milk. 

“I’m not scared,” you huff. “I just don’t think it’s the right time.” 

Namjoon sighs and hands the gurgling newborn baby off to you and readies the bottle for you to feed your new niece, Jisoo. 

“Look, Seokjin sucks, okay? I know you two were together for some time, but in the end, he wasn’t the right one for you. There’s someone out there who is the right one for you. You know how many shit frogs I had to kiss before I got my prince?” 

You make a face as you feed Jisoo, who happily sucks and gazes at the lights above. 

“You call Jimin a prince?” 

Namjoon sighs dreamily as he watches the baby and thinks of his husband. 

“The dreamiest prince,” he breathes, eyes closed in bliss. “But back to your problems. I think you should get back out there. Go on some dates, meet some people. No one is telling you to fall in love and get married tomorrow. Just go have some fun.” 

You allow Namjoon’s words to mull through your mind. What could be the harm in joining a few dating sites, perhaps spending some time at the gym or grocery store flirting with someone cute?

“Fine,” you say. “I’ll think about it.” 

“Good. I can’t be the only one giving our parents grand-babies. Soo needs a cousin.” 

You smile down at the tiny bundle in your arms and imagine a future where you have a baby of your own. 

“Okay, I’m not trying to get knocked up, Joon.” 

“Whatever,” he sighs. “Help me choose a wall color for me and Jimin’s new master bathroom.” 

Tinder’s changed since the last time you used it, years ago. It’s gone from any semblance of dating to strictly an app used to get laid. 

It’s discouraging swiping through all the obvious fuckboys. Sure, a quick and easy lay sounds great, but you’re also trying to go out and enjoy real, traditional dates, and it seems none of these guys want to step foot outside of a bedroom. 

The swiping left becomes almost monotonous. You’re sitting on your couch, watching some documentary about serial killers, when a startling profile pops up on your Tinder feed. 

The picture that pops up is... Jungkook. You can’t stop the bubble of laughter that leaps from your chest. His profile is so authentically Jungkook that you’re swiping right before you even know it. 

Your brain doesn’t even comprehend what a match with Jungkook means, really. You’re still laughing as you click on the bubble to message him and send him as many laugh emojis as you can. 

“Hey guys, what’s up, Kookie here with another Let’s Play Minecraft video for ya. Be sure to like and subscribe if you enjoy this kind of content.”

Jungkook’s headset is firmly wrapped around his head, mic next to his mouth and hands at the ready on his mouse and keyboard. He’s set and in the zone. 

The game is well into play when the familiar chime of his phone goes off. It’s a Tinder notification—he can tell by the sound. He can’t help but roll his eyes, wondering what sort of boring conversation he’s meant to have with a girl who will probably ghost him, anyway. 

He lazily lifts his phone and glances at the notification, before dropping it back to the desk. 

His hand freezes on his mouse as he finally comprehends what he just read. 

He just matched with YOU. 

His best friend. 

His secret, lifelong crush. 

He sputters something into the microphone and stops recording his game, wildly grasping for the phone and unlocking it. 

YN: 😂😂😂😂 is your bio a Minecraft pickup line?!

He pauses, attempts to collect his thoughts, before desperately typing on his screen. 

JUNGKOOK: Why? 😉😏 did it work?

You spend the rest of your night jokingly flirting with Jungkook, sending GIFs and emojis in between the silly lines you’re using on each other. 

Right before you’re about to head to sleep, Jungkook sends one last message. 

JUNGKOOK: What if we went on a date lolol. Haha jk. Unless?? 👀👀👀

Your thumbs hover over the keys to your phone. 

A date with Jungkook? Even though you matched with him, you’ve never thought of a date with your childhood best friend. 

YN: alright, it’s only fair since we matched 😝 show me how you treat these tinder ladies

“I have a date with Jungkook tonight,” you tell your brother, Namjoon, over the phone. 

Over the crying of your newborn niece, you hear Namjoon splutter in confusion. 

“You what!?” He nearly screams. “Jeon Jungkook? Like... the annoying kid you’ve been friends with since fourth grade?”

You huff. 

“He’s not annoying! He’s my best friend. We ironically matched on Tinder and… Well, why the fuck not? Nothing serious is going to happen. We’ll go out and have a story to tell about how incompatible we are.”

Namjoon doesn’t reply. Instead, you hear him speak to his husband. 

“She’s going on a date with Jungkook,” he says over the muffle of his hand on the receiver.

There’s a shuffle, and the dulcet voice of your brother-in-law, Jimin, comes over the line. 

“Girl,” he starts. “What the fuck?”

You chuckle as you move about your closet, trying to decide what’s appropriate to wear on a date with your best friend. 

“It’s nothing!” 

“Mm-hmm,” Jimin tuts. “You know the boy is in love with you.” 

“Okay, Chim, you’ve been spending too much time cooped up with my brother. It’s affecting your grip on reality.”

“Sure, honey. I just tell it like it is. Don’t break his heart.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“I won’t break his heart because there’s nothing there, Jimin.”

“I’ll be expecting your call later.”

“Yes, dad. Love you guys.”

“We love you too, sweetheart. But really, don’t break that poor boy’s heart.”

You open your mouth to retort yet another reassurance that there’s nothing to break, but the line goes dead.

“Fucking Jimin,” you mutter as you throw your phone to the bed.

You can’t allow yourself to think that Jungkook might have feelings for you. It’s totally out of the questions. He’s your best friend. The guy who shoves Cheetos up his nose to make you laugh and falls asleep during every movie night with his face in the popcorn bowl. He’s just Jungkook. This date is just a funny way to hang out.

So, why do you care so much about what you wear?

You’re still standing in front of your closet, attempting to find something respectable to wear. It doesn’t matter that the last time Jungkook saw you; it was with mascara streaming down your face and a hoodie from Namjoon’s college swimming days and ripped leggings. Jungkook has seen you in nearly everything you wear, so your indecisiveness gives you pause.

Do you want Jungkook to be attracted to you? Do you want to do your best to look as presentable as you would for a normal date?

The thudding of your heart tells you that maybe you’re more interested in this being a date than you’re allowing yourself to believe.

You shake all thoughts off. 

No, you won’t allow yourself to overthink a night that should just be fun.

You settle for a fitted and simple summer dress, tights and heels. Simple, easy, respectable but also showing enough cleavage and sculpt of your ass to ensure you look more dressed up than not.

Perfect.

With one last look in the mirror, you’re ready.

JUNGKOOK: I’m outside!

ME: See you soon!

Jungkook taps his foot anxiously as he sits on the bench outside your apartment. His tight black jeans feel like a second skin on his legs, and the black button-down shirt he’s tucked in makes him rethink his choice of outfit.

Is he too casual?

He’s never really worn something like this around you. This is what Jungkook wears when he wants to seduce. This is what every girl he’s desperately wished was you got to see. The girls who swooned over his messy hair, the way his jeans display his toned thighs, the peek of skin at his throat.

Maybe it’s too much.

Maybe he’s afraid he’ll scare you away.

Maybe he’s afraid you won’t like it.

He’s given no chance to ruminate anymore because you’re exiting the building and walking straight towards him.

He doesn’t think he remembers how to breathe.

It’s as if you walk towards him in slow motion. Angels chorus around him and the setting sun sparkles on your face like a spotlight. There’s nothing in the world anymore, nothing but you.

You’re the most beautiful human he’s ever seen in his life.

“Hi,” you smile as you approach him.

He continues to stare, eyes traveling over the soft curves of your cheeks and jaw, trailing down to the way your dress clings just right to each dip of your body. His throat goes dry.

You are without a doubt the girl of his dreams. 

“Jungkook?”

It pushes him out of his reverie, eyes widening as he realizes he’s been staring at you for maybe a few minutes too long to play off as normal.

“Hey!” He coughs, attempting to right himself.

“You okay?” You ask, eyebrow lifted in concern.

“Yeah! Yup! Totally! I’m okay—a-okay, absolutely great.” He internally slaps himself.

“You clean up nice,” you smile as your eyes elevate up and down the lean form of his body.

“Oh?” He asks, taken aback. 

In his daze, he never even realized what you’re thinking about him, rather only how intensely he was thinking about you.

“This must be the Jungkook that all the girls in college couldn’t stop begging me to hook them up with.”

His cheeks flame with sudden embarrassment, hand moving to the back of his neck to rub it awkwardly. 

“Ha, yeah,” he swallows. “You look r-really nice too. I don’t think I’ve seen you in a dress since your brother’s wedding.”

The smile that he’s rewarded with nearly knocks him on his ass. “Thanks! It’s fun to dress up cute again. Jin hated this dress.”

A stab of pain eeks its way into Jungkook’s heart. Seokjin. God, how he hates that man.

“Well, uh, you can wear whatever you want with me!” He assures. 

You loop your arm around Jungkook’s, saddling up to his side as you look at him expectantly.

“Well, are we going?”

Jungkook can’t help but smile at the sparkle in your eye, the way you peer up at him with those soft, cherry lips. He wants to capture them with his own, kiss you until you don’t remember Seokjin’s name ever again.

But he resists.

“Let’s go!”

You never thought you’d admit it to yourself. You never even thought it could happen. 

But the date is everything you’ve ever wanted, and more. 

Jungkook is still Jungkook, still just as silly and easy to talk to as he always is. 

But he’s also charming. Flirtatious, even. He holds doors open for you; he rests his hand on the small of your back as he guides you towards your table at dinner. He feeds you bites of his dessert and lets his eyes linger on the way your lips look wrapped around his fork. 

Jungkook treats you the way you’ve always wanted to be treated. Like someone he wants to cherish for the rest of your combined lives. Someone he wants to take care of, build a future with, enjoy life with.

And as much as it thrills you, it absolutely frightens you. 

It’s when you’re walking down the small river trail together that Jungkook slips his hand into yours and laces your fingers together. The once-steady beat of your heart becomes erratic. He continues chatting—as if holding your hand was a subconscious act for him. He’s knee deep in a story of his Minecraft server when you stop walking, causing him to pause. 

“What’s up?” He asks curiously. 

Your eyes glitter with anticipation, with fear, as you stare at the gorgeous man before you. He looks like a full course meal in his tight jeans and he makes you feel like a princess. You can suddenly see doing life by his side—no longer his platonic best friend, but as his lover and lifelong partner. 

You say nothing. Instead, you simply close the space between you two by grabbing the buttons of his shirt and tugging his lips onto yours. 

“Wha—oh, mmmmmm.”

Jungkook is still for a second as he battles the surprise, but jumps into action and cups your face with his hands, deepening the kiss by pushing his tongue past your lips and swirling it around your own. 

Your bodies press close together. He can feel your breasts against his chest and he desperately wants to rip the dress off your body and worship you like he’s always wanted to. 

As soon as the kiss started, it’s over. You’re pulling away with eyes wide with fear.

“I’m sorry, I—I need to go,” you stammer awkwardly.

Jungkook’s heart drops to his stomach.

“What? We were going to get ice cream?”

You can feel tears building in the corners of your eyes. You’re so confused, so unsure of what you’re feeling. You want to stay and kiss Jungkook until you’re clawing at the clothing on his body, pressing kisses to the firm column of his neck. You want to run far away, too scared to admit it to him you’re sure you could love him for the rest of his life.

You can’t lose that friendship. You can’t risk everything you love about Jungkook. He’ll only hurt you the way every boyfriend ever has.

“I don’t really feel well,” you swallow hard as you lie. Jungkook always knows when you’re lying.

His body stiffens.

“Okay, let me walk you home.”

You shake your head, already moving away from the man.

“It’s fine. We’re nearby. I’ll just run or something.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but you’ve already turned face and started running the direction away from him.

Jungkook watches, misty-eyed, as the girl of his dreams runs further and further away from him.

You’re sobbing as you finally reach home, out of breath and confused. The phone call to Namjoon is quick.

“Yo,” he says cooly as he answers the phone. His tone changes when he hears your whimpering sobs on the other end.

“Joonie,” you whisper. “I fucked up.”

“Oh god,” Namjoon quickly shuffles and calls his husband over, before putting the phone on speaker.

“What’s happened, baby?” Jimin’s sweet voice asks.

“I—I kissed him,” you sob, holding yourself close in the comfort of the elevator. 

Namjoon and Jimin look at each other with knowing looks.

“We’re on our way over.”

Jimin knows the first order of business is to stop the crying. He places sleeping baby Jisoo in your arms, which quiets your whimpers enough as you cling to the tiny baby. He knows your weakness is sleeping babies.

Namjoon looks on anxiously, hates seeing his little sister upset and with no way to make it better.

Jimin’s been asked to take the lead on this, because he knows his husband's response is to cry as well—he gets emotional anytime he sees her cry. Namjoon agreed, knowing Jimin was better suited for the conversation.

“Tell us what happened,” Jimin asks quietly. You’re rocking the baby gently, sobs turned to sniffles. “Did something go wrong on the date?”

Your eyes peer up at your brother-in-law’s, a wounded look that makes Jimin feel sad. Namjoon clenches beside him, and Jimin lays a hand on his lap to soothe the protective brother.

“No,” you whisper. “That’s the thing. It was an amazing date.”

Jimin watches you curiously, but remains silent to let you continue.

“We had dinner, and we played arcade games and we walked around. And he was so… fuck, he was perfect. It was like dating the guy of my dreams.”

Jimin nods knowingly.

“And it surprised you how much you liked him.”

“Yeah,” you sniffle. “At the end, he was holding my hand and just talking about normal, stupid Jungkook shit, but this time it felt like more. Like, I felt in my heart that I wanted to be the one he always talked to about it. I wanted to be the one he came home to at night.”

Jimin pats your cheek lovingly, the care for his sister-in-law clear in his gaze. 

“You don’t just like him, honey. I think you might even love him.”  

You pull baby Jisoo tighter into your grasp and nod, pathetic tears slipping down your face. 

“I just left him. Like, I ran away from him like an asshole.”

Namjoon grunts and takes a spot next to Jimin. “If he loves you, which I’m sure he does, he’ll still be waiting for you.”

Jimin nods and rests a hand on his husband's back. “But you better have one hell of an apology.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer your phone calls. He doesn’t respond to your texts, snapchats or Instagram DM’s. He doesn’t even look at the TikToks you sent him! It’s becoming infuriating to get in touch with him.

You take matters into your own hands and storm to his apartment after work, the rising tension in your shoulders and stomach full of rocks an indicator of your anxiety about the future of this relationship.

Jungkook opens the door wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweats. All the carefully crafted words exit your mind at light 

speed and you’re left gasping, wide-eyed at the chiseled body of your best friend.

“Can I help you?” He asks, tone flat.

Ouch.

You push past him into the apartment you know so well. “Yeah, you could start by answering your phone.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and closes the door, then heads back towards the large gaming setup in the living room.

“My apologies for not responding to the girl who literally ran away from me on a date.”

Your cheeks heat uncomfortably as you stand in the center of his living room, arms crossed over your chest. 

“Jungkook, listen. I’m—”

“Please,” he shakes his head as he sits down at the impressive gaming chair. “Save the apologies. I get it.”

“You don’t get it!” You say, exasperated. “You don’t get any of it! That’s why I’m here.”

Jungkook narrows a look at you then stands from his chair. Slowly, he makes his way towards you and stands inches from your face. The proximity of his bare, toned chest to your body makes your throat dry.

“No, you don’t get it.” His voice is threateningly quiet, completely different from his usual chipper tone. 

“Jungkook, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” He quirks his head sarcastically, and you’re struck by the sharp lines of his jaw. “Sorry for running away from the date? Sorry for going on a date? Sorry for making me feel like I had a fucking chance when you kissed me?”

You swallow hard and open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off.

“I’m sorry too. For giving myself way too much hope that this could ever be something. I’m sorry for myself for thinking you’d at least respect me enough to reject me politely.”

“You always had a chance!” You can feel tears building in your eyes and Jungkook feels his heart pound in his chest like a drum.

He scoffs, a harsh and mirthless laugh. “Clearly not.”

“I just—,” you start. “I never saw you like that before and suddenly you became everything I’ve ever dreamed of. It was like getting hit by a train, Kook! Suddenly my best friend turned into the man of my dreams.”

He shakes his head, stepping back away from you.

“I really find it hard to believe you,” he whispers. “I can’t let myself hope.”

“Jungkook, please,” you beg as tears start slipping down your face. “Please believe me.”

“Just leave,” he sighs. “I hate making you cry.”

You want so badly to wrap yourself in his arms, cry into his chest like you always do when you’re hurt. But you stand still, frozen in your shame and embarrassment of hurting your best friend so badly.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, before you spin around as quickly as you can and leave Jungkook’s apartment in a flurry.

He watches as the door slams behind you, eyes full of sadness and regret. As much as he wants to believe you, have faith in every word you said, he can’t allow himself to get his hopes up again.

He can’t watch you run away from him again.

“Welcome back to Kookie’s Wild Weekly Walkthrough!” Jungkook cheers as enthusiastically as he can through his microphone. “The weekly segment where I react to your Minecraft worlds!”

Jungkook needed to dive back into streaming to take his mind off of you. He hasn’t left his apartment in days, only subsisting on takeout and coffee. At least he was making more money and his subscribers didn’t seem to mind the up-tick in content.

“Tonight I’ll be walking through a creation sent by,” he squints at the username. “‘Kookiesgal95’ Aww that’s cute.”  

He readies the content and starts his camera as he watches the YouTube link. His subscribers love his reaction videos—it’s a highly requested segment.

The video starts off easily, a generic Minecraft world that looks like a park.

“Hi Kook.”

The voice that reverberates through his headphones makes him pause the video quickly, wide-eyed with recognition.

It’s you. He’d know that voice from a million others. 

Shit. He’s going to have to edit so much of this clip. He’s staring at the screen as if he’s just seen a ghost.

Unsteadily, he clicks play again and watches as you lead him through your Minecraft creation.

“I wanted to recreate something for someone very special in my life.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother to react to this anymore. This entire video is going to be worthless—there’s nothing he can say.

The video pans around the Minecraft setup and he can see what looks like handmade swings and merry go rounds.

“It took me a really long time to do this and an embarrassing amount of help from some twelve-year-olds on the internet.”

He laughs and is stunned by the wet tears rolling down his cheeks. He hadn’t realized he was crying.

“I re-created a park that is really special to my best friend and I.”

He feels his chest tighten and relax. The park. 

“This is the spot where he held me when my dog died when I was nine. I still miss that dog.”

The view is on a spot next to a blocky oak tree. Jungkook remembers that day, remembers your heartbroken sobs as he whispered words of comfort to you. He misses that dog, too. 

“This is where he and my brother got in a fight when we were eleven, because my brother called me a stupid-head. My best friend has always been protective of me, even from my own big brother.”

He can still remember pushing Namjoon around after hearing him call you names. He pushed Namjoon over and threatened to use his “big muscles” if he did it again.

The camera pans to an enormous structure, rather sloppily made, of a slide and monkey bars.

“This is where we first shared a joint in high school. I coughed a lung up and he ran down the street to a gas station at ten pm to get me a bottle of water even though I told him I was okay,”

The memory of the bewildered 7-11 employee plays through his mind. The man watched as a very stoned, very out of breath, Jungkook paid for a bottle of water in coins.

The video continues playing, moves towards what appears to be a parking lot made of cobblestone blocks.

“This is where he held me when my world fell apart.”

The break-up. The way you cried and cried and cried in his arms and he held you as if you were the only thing left on Earth. 

“This is where he reminded me I’m worthy of love, that I’m not broken. This is where he held me like I was delicate, but treated me like I was unbreakable.”

His tears don’t stop. Jungkook feels his heart thundering in his chest like a summer storm. 

He can hear your sniffles through the recording of the video—you were crying too. It pans around to the swing set.

“And this is where I’ll tell him everything, tonight. Where I’ll tell him how deeply I love him and how I want to make him the happiest guy in the world. In all of Minecraft and beyond. I hope he comes.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother turning his camera off.

Instead, he’s running to change out of his three-day-old clothes and bolt out the door.

The creaky, rusty metal of the swing set is deafeningly loud in the silence of your park.

It’s dark, just a few street lights around to illuminate the perimeter, but it’s otherwise only lit by the moon.

It’s getting cold. You shiver in your hoodie and kick at the dirt under your swing. 

Maybe he didn’t see the video. Maybe he wasn’t going to show.

Maybe it was too late.

You spent hours working on the Minecraft world, staying up at all hours of the night to build and craft a poor re-creation of this park. The twelve-year-olds on Reddit had been invaluable and Namjoon definitely made fun of you for your creative assistants. But it had all been worth it. 

“Fuck,” you speak out loud to no one, as you try to warm your hands in the pockets of your sweater. “It’s cold.”

“You should have brought a jacket.”

The sudden voice from behind startles you. You hop off the swing and whip around to face  down the intruder.

Jungkook.

He looks so good. He’s wearing a thick coat and tight jeans. Your eyes take a delicious journey from head to toe.

He can’t help but preen at your blatant appreciation. He enjoys knowing you’re attracted to him, at least physically.

“You came.”

He nods and takes a nervous step towards you. He’s still far away, more than an arm's-reach away. You’re desperate to bring him closer, to pull him tight against your body and wrap yourself around him. You never want to be without his gentle touch again.

“I felt pretty compelled to come after you made all this in Minecraft for me.” He cracks a wry smile, a boy-ish grin that makes your heart flutter.

“It took me twenty-five hours and some teenagers to help.”

He laughs, a beautiful sound that warms you. “I’m sure they were ecstatic to help.”

You chew at the inside of your cheek, nervous at what he thinks about your in-game confession.

“Did you mean it?” He asks. He steps closer—one more step.

“Every word.”

His eyes are searching yours for the truth, desperately diving into the depths for validity.

“Why did you run away?” Another step.

You swallow hard, heavy tears brimming in your eyes.

“You went from being the silly best friend to being the person I could spend the rest of my life with. It all hit me. It’s always been you.”

One more step and now he’s just within your reach. If you stuck your hand out, your fingers would graze the soft puff of his coat, the delicate skin of his neck. 

“I’ve always felt that way about you. I never thought you’d feel the same.”

You smile softly, timidly. “It just took me a little while longer to realize it.”

All at once, Jungkook closes the gap and holds you gently by your cheeks. His thumbs wipe at the moisture under your eyes. 

“I promise to never make you cry again,” he whispers reverently. 

“And I promise to never run away from you again.” 

Jungkook smiles at that, cradling your face like you’re the most expensive and precious jewel. 

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks, somewhat unsure of himself. 

“I would like it if you would.”

As Jungkook presses his cold, plush lips to your own, you make a promise to yourself to never go a day without kissing him again. 

“I can’t believe you’re in my bedroom,” Jungkook murmurs as he kisses at your face. After the park, Jungkook loaded you into his priceless Nissan and scurried home. You could hardly keep your hands off him as he drove you back to his place—reaching and caressing the spots on his body you’re dying to become familiar with. 

“I’ve been in your bedroom before,” you remind him as he tugs up the hoodie you’re wearing. 

“God, don’t be so semantic when I’m trying to fuck you,” he says before throwing the hoodie to a corner of the room. “You know what I mean.”

Jungkook kisses you again, all lips and teeth and tongue. He kisses you like you’re the last breath of air, and he’s greedy for every bit. He grips your hips, not too tight, and brings your body against his. You can feel him grow in hardness in his too tight, and it feels like bliss. 

Teasingly, you grind your hips against his, making him shudder with desire.

“I want you,” he whines as he nibbles at your lip. 

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

He opens his eyes to level a look at you, pulling his mouth away from yours. 

“You’re such a little smartass.”

His hands become feverish on your jeans, tugging apart the button and flicking down the fly. He pushes them down quickly, and you kick them off carelessly. 

He can’t stop looking at you in your bra and panties, standing at the foot of his bed. 

“Holy shit, okay, this is happening, right? Like, this is real?” 

You smirk, pleased with Jungkook’s obvious excitement. 

“Let me prove it’s not just a dream.” 

Softly, you spin Jungkook around and push him down to sit on his bed. He complies easily, eyes wide and excited. 

“If this is a dream, would you be able to feel this?” You ask as you unbuckle  his belt and open his jeans. He doesn’t reply, simply watches you as you tug his jeans down to his thighs. 

His cock strains hard against his tight boxers, and you run a teasing finger over the obvious bulge. 

“Oh fuck,” he breathes. 

“Feels pretty real, huh?”

“Y-yeah.” 

Your delicate hands gently tug at the waistband of his boxers and easily work them down enough to free the length of his cock. It springs out easily and your eyes widen at the impressive size. You assumed he would be at least average, but you’re looking at something definitely more. 

“Oh wow,” you whisper. “You’re fucking huge.” 

Jungkook grins. “All for you, baby.” The cockiness is palpable. 

One solid grip around him wipes the presumptuous smile off his face, replaced with a gasping, shuddering moan. 

“How about this? Not a dream?”

He struggles to find his voice, instead he’s gulping for air like a fish out of water. 

“That’s what I thought,” you whisper before settling into a position on your knees. “I’ll admit, I’ve dreamt about this too. I always felt so ashamed for dreaming about sucking my best friend's cock.”

You press soft kisses to the head of his length, teasing the sensitive areas at the tip before kissing up and down the length. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

His evident desire for you encourages you, and your tongue swipes at the crown of his tip and swirls around it gently. 

“Oh my god.” His eyes shutter closed and you trace the veins in his dick with your tongue. 

“This h-has to be a dreeeaaaaam,” he whines as you make an exceptionally long stripe with the flat of your tongue. 

You pull off for a moment, humming. He springs his eyes open and watches as you reach behind your back and unsnap your bra. Your breasts escape with a bounce and his eyes widen, nearly bulging out of their sockets. 

“What the fuck,” he whines. “You have the most amazing tits.”

He reaches out to grasp them and you slap them away playfully. 

“Not yet,” you smirk. “Still trying to convince you you’re not asleep.” 

He sucks in his breath and puts his hands back to the bed to steady himself, eyes never leaving yours (except to stare at the luscious curves of your body). 

Grasping your breasts in both hands, you smash them together lightly in an elaborate show of what Jungkook wants most. You lean over his body and place the throbbing thickness of his cock in between your tits, allowing him to feel just how soft and warm they are. 

“Shit!” He yelps, grabbing his sheets in a tight fist. “Are you really tit-fucking me right now?!”

Slowly, you lift your body up and down, allowing his cock to feel each stroke of your breasts. You nod at his question and continue to pump up and down. 

“Still dreaming?” 

He whines and shakes his head, already feeling so close to the edge. His cock is slick from your teasing licks and the pressure of your tits surrounding him had his mind spinning with desire. 

“Ahhh, I’m so fucking close,” he warns.

You continue, speeding up the friction and pressure of your strokes. 

“I want you to cum on me, Kook,” you whisper encouragingly. “Cum on my tits, please?”

Jungkook feels like he’s a wire about to snap, and your thick, sultry voice and incredibly perfect breasts are the snips that breaks him apart. 

“Oh, shit,” he grunts. “Gonna paint your titties white, baby.”

His moans echo around the walls of his bedroom, small gasps of pleasure and your name escaping his perfectly plump pout. 

His hot load splatters on your chest, and you stroke him through each pulse of his cock. You’re slippery with his seed now, and when you pull away from his spent length, you make a show of rubbing in his cum over your chest.

“Okay, definitely not dreaming,” he says in a daze as he watches you lift a wet finger to your mouth, popping it in to clean it off. “Who knew you were so fucking kinky?” 

His confidence grows as he catches his breath. He can’t believe he’s sitting on his bed with you on your knees, breasts covered in his load. You’re suckling the cum off your finger like it’s his cock, and he’s desperate for more.

“There are lots of things you don’t know about me,” you shrug. 

Swiftly, he grabs you gently by your bicep and pulls you close, sucking at your lips until you’re both standing. 

“I plan to find out everything.” 

Suddenly, you’re switching positions and Jungkook is pushing you down into the bed. You lay flat in the center, body relaxed and eager for your best friend.

“What are you doing?” You ask. He’s still standing at the end of the bed, watching you get comfortable. Once he’s satisfied that you’re lying exactly how you want, he settles himself by your feet.

“Worshipping you,” he says as he lifts an ankle and presses gentle kisses to your calf. “Showing you how much I adore you.” More kisses, soft and sweet. “Showing you how I plan on treating you for the rest of your life.” 

He takes his time, lavishing your legs with his mouth. He kisses and sucks at any spot, sexual or not. He mouths at the roundness of your knees, your firm hamstrings. He presses his love into the skin of your thighs, mouthing his praises with each kiss. 

He reaches the dip of your hips and he gently kisses your exposed skin as he tugs your cotton panties off you. 

“I have loved every inch of you since before I can remember,” he praises as his lips skim over the mound of your cunt. “And I don’t plan on stopping soon.” 

Your body feels like it’s on fire, as if Jungkook lights a match at every spot his lips press against. Your eyes close, and you allow Jungkook to continue his pious worship of your body. 

He teases around your folds, kissing your labia ever so gently—making you gasp. He doesn’t linger long, only kisses you enough to stir the licking flames of heat in your belly.  

He kisses at your stomach, gently nibbling and laving at the softness there. You try to hide from him, try to hide your insecurities of your body in his thorough exploration, but he moves your hands. 

“I know you don’t like this part of your body,” he murmurs. His voice is so soft, so pure and sincere. “But I do. I love everything about you.” 

His tongue swirls around your belly button, making you gasp at the ticklish sensation. 

“You’re so pretty. So perfect.” 

He continues upwards, lips now trailing to your full breasts. He takes his time there, licking and kissing and flicking at your nipples with his tongue. It feels exhilarating—Jungkook’s mouth feels like everything you want it to feel like. His tongue is warm, and he bites with just enough pressure to make your back arch off the bed into his embrace.

His hands explore, taking stock of every millimeter of skin he can find. He wants to memorize every freckle, every bump, every scar and line. Your body is his paradise, and all he can think of is you, you, you.

One hand travels down your body as he moves his lips up your neck. It snakes down your stomach and deftly slides over your soaked core. You whine as you feel his fingers part your folds and dip into the wetness.

“So wet,” he says out loud, verbalizing every tantalizing detail of your body. “So perfect.”

His lips are finally at your own and you kiss him passionately, tongue swirling around his as he slides his two fingers past your clit and into your drenched hole. You gasp against his mouth, eyes widening as he slowly scissors his fingers into you and pumps slowly. It’s almost teasing, the way he fucks his fingers in you. Slow, firm movements with his powerful hands.

“Jungkook!” You gasp. He doesn’t reply, instead he bites at your lip and tugs, then trails his hot mouth back down to your nipples. He can’t get enough of your breasts and the slightly salty taste of him still lingering.

“You feel so good,” he says as he speeds his fingers up minutely. “So tight and wet for me.”

Your hips writhe in need. He’s giving you what you need, but not enough. You need more, more. You want to feel him, all of him, spearing you open.

“Please, Kook,” you groan. “I need you.”

He laughs softly against your nipple and sucks extra hard, letting it pop out of his mouth audibly.

“And I need you, my love.”

“Fuck me, please.” You’re desperate, thighs quaking from the slow teasing. “I want you to fuck me, Jungkook.”

Chills shudder down Jungkook’s spine and he’s powerless to say no, not when you demand it so well.

“With pleasure,” he agrees. He pulls his fingers from within you and copies your move, sliding them into his mouth to suck your essence off. 

He’s never looked sexier. His eyes are dark chocolate pools of burning intensity, and you feel your breath become shaky as you watch him clean his fingers with precision.

After he’s deemed his fingers sufficiently clean, he settles himself between your legs. Easily, he lifts your hips and shoves a pillow underneath, elevating you to a more comfortable position. He grabs your legs and tosses each over his shoulders so they’re higher in the air. 

“I’m going to fuck you so good, baby,” he promises as he rubs the tip of his cock on your soppy slit. “Condom?”

You shake your head, appreciative of his question but desperate to feel him completely.

“Birth control. Regularly tested. Haven’t had sex in a while,” you blurt out. “You good?”

He nods in agreement. “Same. Well, except the birth control. But, I’d take it if they made it for men.”

“Jungkook!” You whine. Your best friend is so easily sidetracked. “Please, can you fuck me?”

He grins. “Tsk, someone is impatient.”

A low moan is rumbling in your chest as he continues to rub his thick cock at your entrance.

“I swear to god, you’re the biggest tease.”

“Oh, I’m definitely the biggest.”

Before you can react, he’s pushing past your entrance and sliding deep in your walls. Your position makes his cock feel deep, and he bottoms out and stills there, eyes closed in bliss.

“Holy shit,” he gasps. “This is absolutely the best pussy I’ve ever felt.”

You wiggle your hips as you get used to the sensation of the delicious stretch.

“Please don’t tell me how many pussies you’ve felt when you’re balls deep inside of me.”

Jungkook turns his head and kisses at your legs resting on his shoulders, lavishing them with his praise once more as he keeps his cock buried inside your tight heat.

“Yours is the only one that matters. The only pussy I’ll ever be in for the rest of my life.”

“That’s a good answer,” you smile. “Now, fuck me, lover boy.”

Jungkook winks and grips your hips with his hands. He swiftly pulls out, enamored with the way his cock is already covered in your creamy essence, then eagerly pushes back in. He sets a pace and soon the sound of skin clapping on skin echoes around the room.

“Oh god!” You’re moaning loudly, unabashedly. You’re thankful that Jungkook’s old roommate, Yoongi, moved out to live with his boyfriend Hoseok months ago. He’d definitely complain about the noise for months. “Fuck, Jungkook, you feel so good.”

Jungkook fucks into you with ferocity, speed and power gradually rising as he feels his core tighten with the coming anticipation of release.

“Mmm, you look so fucking sexy like this,” he murmurs. “Getting fucked by your best friend’s fat cock.”

He moves a hand from your hip, trails it up your body to squeeze at your breast, before he’s cupping your face once again. His hips snap against yours and he loves the way your mouth utters little squeaks and gasps with each deep thrust into you.

“God, my beautiful girl,” he groans. “Can’t wait to cum in this pussy, shit, you got me so fucking close.”

You open your mouth desperately and Jungkook easily slips his thumb in. You latch on quickly and suck, tongue swirling around the tip like you’re sucking another cock. It nearly sends him over the edge and the speed of his hips matches his desperate need for more.

“Fucking hell,” he bites back. He can feel his belly tighten, driven further and further to the edge by the constricting wetness of your cunt. 

He pulls his thumb out and moves it down to where his cock spears into you, allowing your spit to swirl with his thumb around your clit. Your core tightens around him at the added stimulation and your back arches up in ecstasy.

“I’m so c-close, Kook,” you plead, as if begging for mercy. “Please, I want to cum so bad.”

The speed of his thumb increases, and he watches as your face twists in pleasure and desperation. 

“Cum on my cock, baby, let me see you fall apart. Show me what I’ve dreamt of for so long.”

A high and wanton cry ripples out of your body as he savagely increases his speed, both his cock and thumb working overtime to drive you towards your end. The butterflies that erupt in your lower stomach make your moans louder, higher. You’re so close, closer than ever. It’s building to an incredible crescendo.

He can tell you’re close—he sees it on your face as your back arches and your fists grip his sheets.

“You look like a fucking angel, baby,” he whines as he soaks in the vision of you writhing underneath him. “I bet you cum like an angel, too. Let me see it, let me see.”

With just a few more swirls of his thumb and his deep, hard strokes, you’re soaring over the edge into a pool of nothingness. Your cunt pulsates wildly around his length, milking and stroking it with your tight walls. You throw your head back, moaning out his name at the top of his lungs, letting his neighbors know just who fucks you so well.

“Holy shit,” he gasps, hips stuttering as he fucks into your juicy hole. “That was so fucking sexy.”

You grip his forearms, holding onto him tight and encourage him to go harder. “Cum inside me, Kookie, please. I’m all yours, make me yours.”

His heart feels like it might burst in his chest. He’s always wanted you to say it to him, to hand over your love to him like he does so easily to you. It’s all so much, so overwhelming, and the feeling of your hot cunt still fluttering around him sends him reeling into his own completion. 

He spills into you, warm seed coating your walls and pooling inside your womb. He fucks himself through each throb of his cock until he’s sure he’s drained every ounce of himself into you.

Your legs slip off his shoulders easily, and he gently pulls himself out of you. He falls beside you, panting with exertion, and wraps an arm around you.

After a few silent moments of catching your breath, Jungkook pulls you in close to him until he can koala-cling to you, arms and legs both wrapped around your body.

“Mine,” he whispers as he kisses your head. “All mine.”

You return the favor, clinging to your best friend—boyfriend—like he’s your only lifeline.

“All yours.”

“So, you’re telling me, you got together because of Minecraft?” Jimin asks, pointing a fork in your direction. It’s been months now since your grand virtual declaration of love for Jungkook. Months of bliss and romance, laughter and companionship. 

You were right all along. Jungkook is everything you’ve wanted in a man and more.

You’re sitting at your brother’s expensive dinner table, enjoying a meal with his family with your boyfriend at your side.

“Yeah, Jimin, I guess that’s what I’m saying,” you retort as you roll your eyes. “Minecraft and Tinder.”

Baby Jisoo is awake and in your brother’s arms, but she’s whining and wiggling to leave him.

“What’s wrong, Soo?” Namjoon asks with a pout on his lips. “Why don’t you want daddy anymore?”

Jimin snorts at his husband and you hold out your arms for your baby niece. “Come here, baby, I know you want auntie.”

Namjoon dutifully hands over his daughter, sulking that he’s been picked over for his sister. 

You cradle the baby in your arms, expecting her to calm once she’s there, but she continues to fuss. She’s thrusting her arms out and nearly crying, reaching towards Jungkook who’s busy chowing down on Jimin’s homemade ramen.

“I think she wants you, Kook,” you murmur. He looks at you, then to the baby, then back to you, before he wipes his hands and face clean with a napkin.

“Oh, okay,” he whispers, slowly taking the baby from your arms with your help. “Hello, ma’am.”

Namjoon and Jimin laugh. “She’s a baby, Jungkook, not an elderly woman,” your brother teases.

Jungkook doesn’t listen. He’s too busy cooing at the baby in his arms and playing with her tiny hands. Namjoon turns his attention away and looks at you.

“Guess I won’t be the only provider of grandchildren for much longer.”

You playfully glare at him and turn away to watch your boyfriend. Watching Jungkook interact with your niece makes your heart swell, your soul sing. He’d be a perfect father.

“I swear, if he teaches her how to play Minecraft, he’s banned from the household,” Jimin grumbles. “This is a No-Nerd-Zone.”

Jungkook cradles the child and rocks back and forth, singing her a soft, made-up song, before he looks over at you.

“Hey, I want one of these,” he smiles. “Can we have one?”

You lay a hand on your stomach, a soft bump not quite visible yet. It’s only been one test, the lines faintly indicating ‘positive’ on the stick. You wanted to make sure, get confirmation before you spill the beans.

“Sure, Kookie.”

He grins and leans over to kiss you, before turning his attention back to the baby. “Okay, Jisoo, now let me tell you all about the Endermen.”

Jimin groans. “Oh my god, do not give Minecraft facts to my infant!”

tag list - @giadalin @nohayarcoirissintormenta @pjmislovely @xhazmania @marcoazam2 @eggbutnotyolk @feel-the-sunset @unicornbabylover @aretha170 @jeonmisha @hordanhearsawhooo 

© ppersonna - 2021 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.

[helliontherapscallion]

(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Monday

Tuesday     Wednesday     Thursday (Part 1)     Thursday (Part 2)     Friday     Saturday     Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Pairing: SBI x sister!reader (she/her pronouns)

Warnings: swearing, toxic friends, panic spirals/attacks, injury, taking pills for pain

Summary: you have a very bad week, how will you manage? (Characters are fully human, but based on their DSMP characters. High school AU)

Word count: 4,818

(A/N): I’ve never played volleyball or watched Haikyuu before, so I’m not 100% certain how games work. Also, I probs should’ve split this into two parts, but eh.

“(Y/n) love, you look homeless in that sweater, it’s literally so fucking ugly.”

“Haha, yeah it is. I guess I just wasn’t really trying today.”

Adrian snorted, scanning your body with his cold eyes. “Today? You don’t try at all. You always look like trash.”

“More than trash, you always look like you just rolled in dog shit.” Sammy threw her head back and cackled at her own joke.

Your friends around you erupted in laughter as you four walked down the hallways of the hell that was your public high school. You awkwardly chuckled alongside them, you didn’t really find it funny, but you didn’t want to draw more attention towards yourself. 

“Seriously, (y/n), I really don’t know why we still hang out around you anymore. You really let yourself go.”

“Yeah, now that I think about it, you did gain like five pounds in the past week.”

“Really not a good look on you, love. Then again, nothing you do can make you look good anymore.”

You tried to not let their comments get to you, you really did, but sometimes their comments just rooted themselves deep into your subconscious. You didn’t try looking good anymore, you couldn’t wear anything without them criticising it. You could never win. 

“Awe,” Adrien poked your cheeks, “stop looking so sad. We’re just trying to give you advice. You really need it.”

“Yeah, (y/n). You’re so sensitive, get a grip.”

“Guys look, I think she’s gonna cry!” 

You wiped at your welling eyes with the sleeves of your sweater. “I’m not. I just got allergies.”

Annie rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh. Anyways, what are our plans for Halloween? We should totally dress up like sexy angels! I think that’d be so cool. Like, Clint’s party won’t be ready for us.”

“Oh, about that Annie…”

“God, what now (y/n)?”

“I was actually planning on spending Halloween night taking Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating with my brothers and dad. I won’t be able to go with you guys, I’m sorry.”

The group groaned loudly. “C’mon (y/n), you never hang out with us anymore.”

“Oh my god (y/n) you still go trick-or-treating? We’re juniors.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve just been busy with my AP classes and studying for the SAT. My team captain’s really been pushing the team hard with volleyball practice. State finals are soon and we want first this year.”

“No matter how much studying you do, you’re gonna fail. You’re stupid, so why try? Just give up and hang out with uuussss.”

“Yeah (y/n),” Adrien looked at you suspiciously, “you’ve been ignoring us lately. I thought we were friends. Do you even wanna be friends anymore?”

You felt a flare of panic flare up in your gut. “I do! I-I just have so much going on right now. It’s starting to get hard to juggle everything.”

“We’re starting to think that you don’t like us anymore, we want our (y/n) back!” Sammy whined. The others agreed with her, making you feel guilty. You were ignoring them, it was selfish in your opinion. You supposed that you could skip out on taking Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating, there’ll be other years you could take them. 

“I guess I can take Tommy and Tubbo another year. They’d just have to go without me this year.”

They cheered, giving you praise. You beamed at that, they seemed down lately and you loved it when they’d give you compliments. They didn’t do that much, so that made their praise more special to you. You strived to get compliments.

You four went off to your separate first classes for the day. Yours was statistics, a class you’ve been struggling in lately. You didn’t know anybody in there except for your oldest brother Techno, so you tried to stick with him. Unfortunately, the teacher’s seating chart placed you both on opposite ends of the room, probably because of your last names indicating that you’re siblings. You placed your stuff down on the table and plopped down into your seat, already drained. You had a long day ahead of you; you had a major AP world history test in your next class, you had to give a presentation in your AP english class that was worth a quarter of your final grade, and you had a semifinals volleyball match that would last until late in the night. If your team won, you would be going to state finals, so it was a lot of pressure on your shoulders. You were the main setter, so you had to really focus tonight if you were going to score your team points. 

“Alright class, pull out your homework!”

Fuck, you had homework? You looked in your folder, only to see the unfinished sheet full of equations you didn’t understand staring back at you tauntingly. Mr. Mullins walked over to your desk, took one look at your blank homework, and just walked right past you. Another big fat zero in the gradebook for you, just what you needed. At least he wasn’t in the mood to berate you today. You didn’t need any more stress piled onto your shoulders. 

The lesson felt like it dragged on forever with you frantically trying to copy down the notes on the board and trying to understand the content at the same time. Overtime, he would call students up to the board. Hopefully, he would skip over you today. “Ms. Minecraft.” Goddamn it, you spoke too soon.

Your head perked up and you looked at him. “Yes sir?”

“Come up to the board and solve this.”

Gulping, you felt panic rise up in you and stood up with shaky knees. On the board was part of the newer content he was just teaching. Something that you understood only a little bit better than the rest, and that’s not saying much. You still didn’t understand the content completely. Your writing was shaky as you wrote what you thought was right on the board. Finding the answer, you circled it and looked at Mr. Mullins. He looked disappointed. 

“That’s wrong, Ms. Minecraft. Please sit down.”

You felt like your face was on fire as you saw the entire class burning holes into you with their eyes. Though they looked dead inside, as per usual with any morning class full of tired teenagers, their effects still took hold on you. You wanted to crawl into a dark hole and die. You sat back down and stared at your note packet, you couldn’t focus on the lecture anymore. Your attention was fully on your surroundings, you were hyper aware of every little whisper and bouncing leg in your peripheral vision. You could feel yourself spiraling, usually that wouldn’t happen until after your third class. Today was going to be rough. 

The loud chime of the bell startled you out of your thoughts. You shakily put your papers back into your binder and put the binder back into your backpack. Right as you were about to walk through the door, you heard Techno catch up to you. “Hey, you good?”

“Yeah Tech, I’m just peachy.”

“Are you su-”

“Technoblade. I’m fine. Now if you excuse me, I have to get to my next class. I have an important presentation I’ve gotta prepare for.”

Without giving him any room to argue, you rushed off to your english class. You had Adrian and Annie in your class. For your presentation, you were paired up with people that you hardly knew. At least they did their part in the project, you were certain you were going to die if you got paired up with Adrian and Annie again. You loved them, but they never did any part of their portion of work. They left it to you to finish at midnight the day the project was due. To be fair, they both told you they had family emergencies, so you covered for them just that once. 

You pulled out your flashcards only to have them knocked out of your hand when someone bumped into you. You quickly crouched to pick them up so you could have them in order by time class started. “Oops, sorry love.”

It was Annie. She and Adrian towered over your crouched form smirking at you. Looking back down to rearrange your cards, you murmured “it’s ok.”

“Are you ready for this presentation, I know I am.”

You smiled a little. “Actually, I think I’m going to ace this. English is my best subject.”

“Yeah (y/n), I wasn’t asking you. I was talking to Annie. Besides, you’re probably going to fail this.” Adrian scoffed. 

“Thank you for asking, Adrian,” Annie shot a pointed look at you, “at least someone cares.”

The bell rang, signifying the start of your second block. You felt like you had a lump in your throat blocking your breathing. If Adrian, one of the smartest kids in your english class, said that you were going to fail, then you probably were going to fail. That would take a huge hit on your grade, this project was worth a quarter of your final grade after all. You were zoned out for the entirety of your classmate’s presentations putting yourself into a spiral. You jumped when Mr. Todd, your teacher, called your group up to present.

You stood stiffly in the middle of your two groupmates and clutched your flashcards with clammy hands. Luckily, your part of the presentation was not first. When it came to your part, you were stuttering and tumbling over your words. You even dropped your flashcards in front of everybody, causing half the class to snicker. Your face burned as you hurried to pick them up and your other groupmate took this as a signal to continue the presentation. You still had an important point to make that was integral for the set up to your other groupmate’s part of her presentation. You stared at your flashcards for the rest of the presentation. 

When the bell rang, you made a mad dash out of the classroom. You didn’t want to talk to anybody, especially not Adrian or Annie. It was a relief that you had your lunch period at the moment. You could hide yourself in the bathroom nobody used and let your panic attack ride itself out. 

You ducked inside a stall and sat on the toilet, bringing your knees up to bury your face in them. The tears and panic you were holding in all day let itself out with explosive effects. You started to hyperventilate as you muffled your sobs with your knee. Your chest painfully clenched so you couldn’t breathe. Your limbs felt like they weighed two tons each and they were shaking intensely. You didn’t hear the end of the lunch bell ring. By the time you calmed down slightly, you were five minutes late to AP world history. 

You packed your stuff up in a hurry, power walking through the halls. You probably looked like shit, but you didn’t care, you had a class to get to and a test that you probably wouldn’t be able to finish now. You lost ten minutes of your test time. When you tried to open the closed door, you found that it was locked. You had to knock if you wanted to get in. You raised a shaking hand to knock, but the door was opened by a less-than-impressed Ms. Osborne. She ushered you to your desk and gave you your unit test. 

You couldn’t focus. The multiple choice section was usually a breeze to you, but you couldn’t comprehend any of the questions. When you could comprehend them, you couldn’t concentrate on choosing an answer. You did your best to find the correct answers, but you were almost positive that at least half of them were wrong. Your handwriting was nearly incomprehensible and your essay topic was something you didn’t study for. When you were done with half of the body paragraphs, the bell rang and you had to turn in your unfinished test. 

You had your independent online psychology course next in the library. You usually worked alone secluded in a corner deep inside the library where nobody went. You would get some solace in being alone. Maybe you’d calm down enough so that you could ride home with your brothers and not go for a long walk so you could avoid them. 

You settled down in the comfortable chair and pulled out your laptop to get started. Psychology was your favorite class. It was easy for you to understand, it didn’t have much of a workload attached to it, and it was fun to learn about. It always calmed you down reading about the intricate workings of the brain. 

By time the day was over, you got most of your psychology work done and you were on your way to the car you shared with Technoblade and Wilbur. You took out your spare keys and slumped against the window in the backseat. You were absolutely drained after your terrible day and you still felt panic swirling deep within you, waiting for the right moment to strike. 

You stretched out your legs across the seat and leaned your back against the door. For the first time that day, you felt peaceful. You still had at least fifteen minutes to yourself until your brothers would start to make your way to the car. You felt the panic subside slightly and you fully relaxed. You closed your eyes and let yourself drift off into a light sleep. You needed your energy for tonight’s match. 

The door you were leaning on swung open and you tumbled backwards smacking the back of your head against the metal frame of the car and reverse scorpioning onto the pavement. Your entire upper back and the back of your head exploded in pain and your lower back hurt slightly from having your back bent uncomfortably. You heard laughter above you as you felt tears of pain start to slip out of your eyes. Your legs swung out from their place above your face and landed on the ground with a painful thump. 

You saw three blurry figures above you laughing at your pain. You reached up with a shaky hand to wipe at your tears and saw Adrian, Sammy, and Annie. They were cackling as you shakily stood up and sat on the comfortable seats of the car. You waited patiently for them to calm down. 

Eventually, Sammy calmed down enough to explain what happened to you through chuckles. “I’m sorry (y/n), it was just too good to resist. You should’ve seen your face.”

She and the others broke back into uncontrolled laughter as they remembered your embarrassing fall. You were used to their antics, and quite frankly it felt good to make your friends laugh, even if it were at your own expense. Just as they were calming down once again, you saw Wilbur and Techno walk out the front doors of the school laughing at something the other said. Annie and Sammy heard their laughter and quickly turned around to watch them. They had massive crushes on both of your brothers, many in the school did. 

Your brothers made their way to your shared car and stopped to look at you in slight confusion. “(Y/n), were you crying? What happened?” Wilbur asked worriedly. 

“Yea-”

“Oh Wilbur, it was terrible, (y/n) fell out of the car. I don’t think she closed the door before she leaned on it.” Annie interrupted you with a faked concerned tone, a complete contradiction to her reaction before your brothers came.

Techno hastily made his way to the driver’s side door. “Well, if she’s hurt we better get going, right Wilbur?”

“Yes! We better get going, please excuse us.” He sat in the passenger seat and closed the door without hearing Sammy and Annie’s desperate attempts to stop them so they could talk to them. Your brothers thought Sammy and Annie were annoying. They absolutely hated being around them. 

Waving apologetically at your friends, you pulled yourself into the car and closed the door. Annie and Sammy looked offended that you had let Wilbur and Techno get away from them. Avoiding their eyes, you looked down at your tightly clasped hands. They were shaking slightly. 

After pulling out of the parking lot, Techno glanced at you from the rearview mirror. “You ok (y/n)?”

“Yeah, my back just hurts and I have a headache.”

“Well, do you wanna go and get some ice cream? We still have some time left before we have to pick up Tommy and Tubbo. Dad doesn’t have to know,” Wilbur asked you.

You sighed, you wanted nothing other than to take a nap before your match. “Sorry, but I need to watch what I eat today. We have semifinals tonight and I can’t have anything sugary. I just wanna go home and take a nap.”

Your brothers were quiet for the rest of the car ride until you reached your driveway. Techno twisted his body around in his seat to look at you after he put the car in park. “Did you actually fall out of the car?”

Shit, should you tell him the truth? If you did, they would almost certainly get mad at your friends. Sammy and Annie would never forgive you if you turned your brothers against them. You decided that you would take one for the team again. “Yeah, I wasn’t paying attention.” 

Techno snorted. “Well, that was stupid,” he jokingly said. “Next time you’re gonna get run over by a parked car.”

You knew that he meant that as a joke, but it still stung. Stamping your emotions down, you laughed with him and Wilbur. It was stupid of you to do, you shouldn’t have let your guard down if you weren’t at home. 

You winced as you slung your bag on your back and walked the best you could back into your house. Your upper back was killing you. You made a beeline to the bathroom and rummaged through the medicine cabinet looking for some pain relief pills. You took some and shambled off to your room to take your well earned nap. You set your alarm’s setting to its loudest volume and passed out. 

You jolted up and gasped when you felt a wave of pain hit your upper back. You blearily looked at the time. You had a little under two hours before you had to get back to the school for your match. You groaned when you pulled yourself up, your head pounding with every turn. You pulled yourself out of bed and once again took some pain pills. You went downstairs to grab an apple or something to eat. Your dad was at the stove stirring something around in a pot. 

He turned to look at you with an excited smile. “You ready for your match tonight? You’re gonna kill it!” 

You only nodded halfheartedly and plopped yourself down at the table with your apple. Philza frowned at your lack of enthusiasm, but he figured that it was just because you just woke up from a nap. You’d bounce back eventually. 

“Wilbur told me that you fell out of the car? How’d you do that?”

You shrugged, wincing slightly as it moved your back slightly. “Dunno, must’ve not closed the door.”

Philza was at your side in a hurry, his hands hovering over your shoulders. “Did you get hurt? Show me where it hurts.”

“My back and the back of my head.”

“Can I move your shirt so I could look?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

You felt him gently pull the neck of your t-shirt away from your body to peek at your back. You heard his breath hitch as he looked. Was it that bad? “Good god (y/n),” he breathed out.

“What, is it bad?”

“Don’t you feel how bad it is? Your entire back is bruised. I think there’s some blood too.”

“Damn.”

“First, language. Second, that’s all you have to say? Aren’t you in pain?”

“Yeah, but the pain pills are gonna kick in soon. I’ll be fine.”

“Would you be able to play tonight? I really think you should sit this one out.”

“No, I’m playing tonight Dad.”

“(Y/n),” oh no, he was using his stern dad voice. “It’s not a good idea to play tonight. You’re hurt, I’m sure they’ll understand if you sit this one out.”

You felt frustration rise up in you. “We’re in the semifinals. They need me, I’m the main setter. They’d lose without me playing.”

“(Y/n), I’m serious. You’re not playing today.”

“Dad, I am playing today. Look, I’ll talk to Coach Williams to see if I could be rotated out more often. I know she’d let me.”

He stared at you for a while before sighing. He knew there was no convincing you. “...Fine. But you better talk to Coach Williams about sitting out for a bit if your back hurts too much or I swear I’ll drag you off the court myself.”

You smiled a little at the small victory. “Thank you! I promise I’ll sit out if needed.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “If needed?”

You sighed, “when needed.”

He walked over to the pot, stirring the contents slightly. “That’s better. Dinner’s almost ready, I made some pasta.”

“It smells good, but I think I’m skipping out on it for today. I already ate this apple and if I eat any more I’ll probably hurl on the court.”

He made a displeased noise in the back of his throat, “fine, but you’re eating something when we get home tonight.”

He walked off to go get your brothers and Tubbo for dinner. You could hear their booming steps racing down the stairs towards the kitchen. They raced into the kitchen and almost crashed into the back of your chair. You stood up and looked at the two excitable fifth graders. “Careful boys, don’t want you getting hurt.”

“You’re no fun (y/n),” Tommy whined.

“Sure, sorry bout that,” Tubbo beamed at you.

You chuckled, making your way upstairs to get ready for your match. You took off your clothes with great difficulty and slipped on your jersey and your spandex shorts. They were way too short for your tastes, but you couldn’t wear longer ones, they’d just get in the way. You fondly remembered how your dad flipped out when he first saw you in them, he hated them with a burning passion. He still hates how short they are.

When you were struggling with pulling your hair back into a tight, sleek ponytail, the back of your head throbbed continuously with pain. You most likely bruised your scalp. 

You slipped on your shoes that were made specifically for playing volleyball and headed downstairs. You were met with Tommy and Tubbo jumping in excitement seeing you in your uniform. They loved going to your matches, even if they would always pass out in the car after them because matches usually ended late at night. You grabbed your dad’s keys and headed to his car. Before you could lead the boys out the door, Philza’s voice stopped you.

“(Y/n), coat.”

You huffed, grabbing your coat and putting it on before tossing him his keys. You four got into the car and set out for the high school. The short drive was filled with Tommy and Tubbo asking you questions about volleyball and encouraging you. “(Y/n), you’re gonna kick their butts!”

“Yeah!” Tubbo cheered 

Despite their voices causing a spike of pain to shoot throughout your head, you laughed at their enthusiasm. It was always nice to hear your little brother and pseudo brother in the stands cheering you on, they were your and your team’s personal cheerleaders. 

Not long after you got to the school, you were stretching with your team on the gym’s floor. Your posse found their way into the stands, sitting in the front row. The away team watched your team like a hawk, analysing every single player for any weakness. It was because of them that you tried to not show any pain when you moved your back. You talked to Coach Williams before the team stretch and she was obviously sympathetic with your situation. She agreed to switching you out with the standby setter every few rotations. 

The echo of the whistles caused pain to ring in your head every time someone scored or a foul was called. Your team captain, Haley, was constantly, yet discreetly checking on you throughout the game since she was always next to you. She was the team’s main spiker after all. 

The game droned on and on before you realized that the opposing team was targeting you when they were offensive. They probably realized that you were injured a round ago. You tried your best to block every ball that was sent your way, but a few managed to slip past you when you couldn’t move fast enough. This team was good, but your team was better. 

The score during the final round was tied and the clock was on it’s last ten seconds as the ball soared your way. You dove to hit it, landing on your shoulder on the hard floor and hitting it up high enough for Haley to spike the ball down. The crowd went wild as the ball bounced off from the opposite end of the court almost simultaneously with the screeching of the referee’s whistle, signifying the end of the game and your team’s victory.

You laid on the floor in pain, you thought you must’ve pulled your tender muscles in your back and shoulder. It hurt to move it. You felt one of your teammates grab your hand to yank you up into a giant full team group hug. You yelped slightly in pain as you felt arms press against your back and hands firmly patting your bruised shoulders. You were whisked away into the locker room to change into the pajamas you brought with you. 

“(Y/n), are you alright? That was a pretty hard fall.” Haley’s soft voice asked you. You felt your heart sing in your chest. 

“Yeah Hales, I’m fine. I just pulled a few muscles.”

Her perfectly shaped eyebrows furrowed together, “are you sure? As your team captain and your friend, I’m worried about you.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. You felt warm knowing that she cared about you. “I’m sure, worrywart.”

She rolled her eyes playfully and breathed out a soft laugh. “Sorry for asking, grump.” Her laugh sounded like music to your ears. 

Your phone vibrated in your pajama pocket, alerting you of your family waiting for you in the car and for you to hurry up. You sighed, “sorry Hales, I gotta go. Dad’s getting impatient.” 

She gave you a small smile. “Oh, well, tell your family I said hi! Good work on the court today, I wouldn’t ask for a different setter.”

You felt your cheeks warm up and you watched with wide eyes as she left the locker room. Your phone vibrated again, your dad was really starting to get impatient. 

You walked out of the school as fast as you could to find your dad’s car waiting for you up front. Jumping in and softly closing the passenger side door, you slumped against the window. “(Y/n),” Tommy’s tired voice slurred. “That. Was. Pog…”

You glanced back to see him and Tubbo snoring away in their seats. Your match was more exciting than usual, so that must’ve really tired them out. You chuckled, turning back around to lean against the window. You took care not to put any weight on your shoulder or back. 

“(Y/n), you were amazing out there, but why did you dive for that ball? That fall looked like it hurt.”

You hummed tiredly, “thanks Dad. I just did what I thought would win us the game. We’re going to finals!” You quietly sang. 

“Did you hurt your shoulder?”

“I actually don’t know, but I think I might’ve pulled a few muscles. Nothing too bad.”

“...I scheduled a doctor’s appointment for you tomorrow morning during your first and second blocks. I want you to get your back, shoulder, and head looked at. You looked miserable the entire match.”

You sighed, too tired to argue, “mmk.”

He chuckled before the car fell into a comfortable silence. The gentle bouncing of the car and the subtle hum of the engine was lulling you to sleep. Your eyelids were drooping by the time you pulled into your driveway. 

You drug yourself out of the car and into the house, leaving Philza with the sleeping boys. You walked straight to your room and plopped down on your bed, passing out instantly for the second time that day.

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