#at least during the second half of making this

[erwinsvow]

unintentionally falling asleep on jack abbot's arms GOD i need him so bad..

it would happen on one of those nights—a really long, never-ending night. since the moment you had stepped into the hospital, it had been back-to-back car accidents and gunshot victims. one of those nights where you can't seem to recall how many people you've helped save, because it seems like that number is lower than the ones you lost.

you usually have a routine during your night shifts. it's supposed to be less chaotic than the day, you're supposed to have time for your coffee at nine-thirty, your tea at one in the morning. it's nearing three, and you haven't had time to stop for either, just sips of water and half a can of an energy drink that you keep in the snack drawer that you share with dr. abbot, in case of emergencies.

and even the fact that you'd reached for it so early in the shift should have been a sign to you, that this was going to be one of those nights. but even as hard as it is, when you look up and meet reassuring hazel eyes, you know that you'll be okay. that you've done for your best for this patient, that you'll continue doing the most you can for all the rest that come into the trauma room tonight.

and around three-thirty, there's a lull. jack always says that five to seven is the hardest part of the shift, that the two hours at the end dictate how you go home feeling. those two hours are make or break, but right before them, that's when there's a lull. it's when the patients waiting for beds upstairs finally doze off. it's when the chairs are finally a little emptier. when notes are finished, when a fresh pot of coffee is made, when food is eaten.

four am might be your favorite hour in the emergency department. it's just quiet enough that you can hear jack's steady breathing from the computer next to you. he has to sign off on all of your notes—all the resident notes, all the nurses orders, and this is the best time to do it.

and it's hard, because he's really attuned to you. all you've been wanting to do recently is make jack feel the same way he makes you feel. heard, seen, recognized. you bring him a cup of coffee once it's been fifteen minutes without an incoming, your personal way of telling that you should have at least another ten without one. that's about how long it'll take him to finish the cup, so you bring it to him, in your yellow mug, and take a seat next to him.

you take one sip—but it's black, and you prefer yours with enough cream and sugar to make your teeth hurt. he laughs when you make a face, and then he takes the cup back into his hands, fingers brushing for a second. jack takes a big sip and sets it down, his hand lingering on the handle near where your hand is resting. he's reading notes and clicking a button on the keyboard.

"do you want a cup, sweetheart?" he asks quietly, making sure no one can hear him.

he doesn't care, but he knows that you do. but when he turns to get an answer, your eyes are drooping. somewhere between the repetitive clicks of the keys and your boyfriend's steady breathing, you momentarily drifted off.

"sweetheart?" jack repeats, and you sit up a little straighter, jolting out of it at his voice.

"yeah?" you blink quickly, like that'll wake you up. "what is it? incoming?" you almost get up, but jack brings his warm hand to your knee. you sink back down into the chair.

"no. it's nothing." he wants to offer you a cup but if you drink it now, you won't go back to sleep. "go back to your notes."

wordlessly, you comply, staring back at the screen. back to your own personal sound machine—calm heart monitors in the distance, jack typing something. you try to focus on the screen but your attention goes to how the veins and muscles in his forearm move everytime he brings the cup to his mouth for a sip. that's enough to get your eyes to shut again.

his arm rests next to you yours. and without even trying to, you end up slouched over, head resting on his arm. even at home, you sleep like this sometimes. you think that jack's arm must hurt, but if it does, he's never complained or told you to stop.

it's good that you're sleeping while you can. it's one of those times his favoritism can actually make an appearance—there's not a single other resident that gets to fall asleep in front of their attending, much less on their attending. and you need it—he can tell. you're still adjusting to the demands of night shift and this has probably been one of the worst nights since you started.

it's the kind of shift that would usually end with him up on the roof, but surprisingly, while watching your shoulders rise and fall with each breath, he hasn't thought about the roof once tonight. instead he thinks about what he'll make for breakfast when he takes you home. he'll have you shower first if you two go to your apartment—it's too small, not comfortable enough for you both. but if it's his place, then together it is. maybe he'll wash your hair for you, or let you cry against his chest under hot water.

you bought this sleeping spray stuff when you started, but when you come over to sleep in his bed, you haven't needed it once. hopefully this little nap and the cup of coffee he'll make for you at five-thirty won't ruin your sleep schedule more than it already is. he's remembering something about a pilates class you were talking about and an episode of that trashy reality show you love so much when he hears it—the almost silent yet completely recognizable laugh of his other residents.

shen and ellis look at your sleeping form, and then move their gaze to him.

"not a word," he says quietly. he's lost use of one hand but it doesn't really seem to matter, not as long as you get to close your eyes for thirty minutes.

"just one question-"

"-yeah, when's my turn?"

[wosoarsenalwfc]

could you please right a leah williamson x chronic illness reader ( maybe epilepsy ) !! btw i love your work

aww thank you !! the story is below

your safe, i'm here

summary : you've been hiding your epilepsy from leah for a long time in fear that she will leave you, but when you have an episode, it only makes your bond stronger.

warnings : seizure, epilepsy, angst? to fluff.

The soft flicker of a film danced across the living room walls, painting both of you in warm shadows. Leah’s hand rested gently on your thigh, her thumb moving in absent, rhythmic circles. You had been dating Leah for a around 7 months now, but you still hadn't told her about how you had been dragonised with epilepsy when you were younger, the fear of burdening or losing her was too much to bare.

She had her suspicions, though, you could tell. The way you sometimes rushed off the pitch during Lionesses camps, how the medical staff occasionally pulled you aside for check-ups or quiet conversations. She hadn’t said anything at least not yet, but she noticed.

Right now though, you had felt it creeping in minutes ago, a distant hum in your skull, the strange tightening in your chest, like your own body was turning on you in slow motion. The movie’s dialogue became distant, fuzzy and the edges of your vision blurred.

You knew what was coming.

You shifted slightly and Leah’s eyes caught yours.

“You okay bubba?” she asked softly. Concern, but not alarm. Not yet.

You nodded too quickly. “Yeah. Just, just gonna get some water,".

You untangled yourself from the couch and stood. Too fast. The room dipped. You gripped the back of the sofa like a lifeline.

Leah started to rise too. “Hey, are you okay?”.

“Lee I'm fine,” you interrupted, forcing a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “Really,".

You barely made it to the hallway. The bathroom was just a few steps away, and you needed to get there, needed to lock the door before...

The floor tilted beneath you. The cold frame of the door hit your shoulder.

Nothing.

Leah didn’t hear a crash, not exactly. But she heard something, a thud, a breath cut short.

She stood quickly. “Babe?”

No answer.

“(y/n)?” she called again, louder, already moving.

When she turned the corner into the hallway, she froze.

You were on the floor, collapsed on your side, limbs twitching in harsh, involuntary jerks. Your eyes were wide but unfocused. Your body didn’t look like yours, not the way Leah knew it. Not the way you held yourself with quiet grace, even in your worst days. This was different, frightening.

She dropped to her knees beside you, heart thundering in her chest. “Oh my god, hey, hey. I’m here, I’ve got you,".

She didn’t know what she was saying, didn’t even know if you could hear her.

For half a second, she reached toward you, but then stopped herself. Don’t restrain them. That was one thing she remembered from a first-aid course ages ago. Just keep them safe. Stay calm.

Her hands hovered. She moved the rug so your head was cushioned, cleared your arm from hitting the door frame. That was all she could do. That and wait.

The seizure lasted around two minutes, however to Leah, it felt like a lifetime.

When your body finally stilled, the silence was deafening.

You blinked once, then again. You were breathing hard, your body disoriented and sore. Your eyes glassy with confusion and the tail end of panic.

“Hey, hey,” Leah whispered, her voice shaking. “It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m right here,".

You turned your head slightly, wincing. “Lee…?” you managed to say weakly.

“Yeah, love. I’ve got you. You had a seizure.” Her voice cracked slightly. “It’s over now.”

Your body curled in, weak, trembling. The exhaustion hit all at once.

“I didn’t want you to see,” you mumbled. “I didn’t want you to —”

“Shhh. Don’t say sorry,”.

Leah moved closer, slowly, her palm brushing against your back. She was careful, waiting for your body to guide her.

You closed your eyes. “You’re gonna leave,".

The words were barely above a whisper, but Leah heard them loud and clear.

“What?” she breathed. “Why would I leave?”.

“I didn’t tell you,” you said. “About the epilepsy. About… any of it. I didn’t want to scare you off,".

Leah’s throat tightened. She didn’t know what she’d expected perhaps fear, maybe, or pain but definitely not this. Not shame.

“Babe, no, look at me,”.

She gently guided your chin up, her eyes locking with yours. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You were scared,”.

“Of course I was scared,” she said, her voice breaking. “You collapsed and I didn’t know what was happening. But I wasn’t scared of you, I was scared for you,".

You let out a slow breath, and she felt your body sag slightly toward her, trust blooming in the space where fear had been.

“I’ve had it since I was a kid,” you whispered. “Most people don’t know. Some freak out. Others just… start treating me like I’m made of glass. Or they leave,”.

Leah’s expression darkened, jaw tightening.

“Well, they’re idiots,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere, I’m in this. All of it, even the scary parts,”.

You blinked fast, tears slipping down without permission. “I didn’t want to be a burden,".

“You’re not,”. Leah’s voice dropped, soft and sure. “You’re the person I love. And I want to know everything, even the hard stuff, actually screw that, especially the hard stuff.”

She pulled you gently into her arms, holding you like something precious not fragile, but sacred, like something she would protect even if it meant danger for herself.

The minutes passed quietly. Your body was still trembling faintly, muscles twitching with post-ictal exhaustion, but you felt warm in her embrace.

Finally, she pulled back just enough to brush your hair away and cup your cheeks.

“I love you, babe, and when you’re ready, can you teach me what to do? Like, properly? So next time, I know how to help better?".

She pulled you into another bear hug as you nodded, and she let you hold on for as long as you needed.

[zomb-core]

picture you | oneshot 1.3k

pairing: jinx x fem!reader

synopsis: a few silly high confessions between friends leads to more.

notes: getting high, confessions, making out

“wait, so, you exploded the kitchen?”

being high on a sunday afternoon with jinx wasn’t exactly how you planned to spend your weekend. however, you definitely weren’t complaining. if you found jinx eccentric normally, wait until you saw her high.

“yeah!” she sat crisscrossed on the floor in front of what you considered a couch but was really a bunch of cushions pilled on top of each other. one of her monkey bombs was held in her palm, she claimed to be working on the paint job but in reality she’d only picked up the paint brush a total of one time. “I wasn’t always this good at making bombs.”

currently, she was telling you a story detailing a bomb-gone-wrong in her words. “I don’t understand, why were you even making bombs at that age?” you laughed, finding her childhood activities a bit unhinged.

“oh, you know, hobbies — artistic expression.” she smiled, throwing her head to the side allowing her bangs to move away from her face.

maybe it was your dazed state, but you didn’t remember her being quite this pretty. eh, probably the lighting. “mmm, you sure do like expressing yourself in funny ways.”

“I like keeping things interesting,” that she did, in fact, you were pretty sure she was the most interesting person you knew.

“oh, trust me, you do.”

you stared at each other for a moment, a sudden silence coming over the both of you. it wasn’t awkward, though you wouldn’t consider it comfortable either. it was just silence.

and then, laughter erupted from the two of you. jinx’s laughter was crazed — the way it usually was with you. your laughter shared a similar quality, but it was softer, less like you were suffering from an undiagnosed disorder. you weren’t even sure why you were laughing, but you couldn’t seem to stop.

until, “wanna know somethin’?”

“yeah..?” you drew out suspiciously, jinx wasn’t one for announcing her ‘fun facts of that day’ so it was a bit odd to say the least.

“don’t sound so skeptical,” she whined, throwing herself back onto the floor. her arms sprawled out above her head while she propped her feet up against the ‘couch’. you admired her ability for theatrics.

“my names not actually jinx.” a pause, “well, it is, but for sometime it wasn’t.”

you couldn’t prevent the audible ‘huh��� that left your mouth at the confession. you and jinx had only been friends for a few months, an unconventional meeting during one of her many missions, but in that short time you had learned a lot about her — her favorite food, the fact that she wasn’t allowed to drink despite being of age, how she built her bombs, when she got tattooed, she even told you more about her past then you expected to know so soon.

in short, jinx wasn’t a private person, so how she managed to not mention her birth name, even if just briefly as a punchline for a joke, stunned you.

you guessed that meant it was something really important to her, or rather something really bad that she preferred to avoid talking about.

and she was telling you, “what was it?”

another pause. “powder. wacky, huh?”

you couldn’t help but giggle, powder wasn’t exactly the top baby name of the year, but it weirdly suited her. “a little”

“your turn.”

you froze. your turn? “what?”

she groaned, removing herself from her spot on the ground. within seconds she was seated next to you, her leg pressed against yours. you turned to face her and instinctively flinched — her face was nose length apart, so close her breath caressed your cheek with every exhale.

“tell me somethin’.” she demanded, a gleam in her eyes.

“uh, okay,” you ran your fingers through your hair, struggling to come up with a fact half as interesting as hers, “when I was a kid I stole money from my parents wallet..?”

“lame!” she exclaimed, leaning her shoulder into yours unintentionally. you laughed awkwardly, nodding along, “yeah, yeah — sorry I don’t blow things up and change my identity at the ripe age of fourteen.”

you knew your life was nearly as eventful as hers, you doubted anyone’s was. jinx was chaotic, and that’s what you liked about her, she brought some havoc to your day to day. despite your half-assed confession, she smiled, clearly entertained by your attempt.

now, she leaned over to rest her head on your shoulder, this time you couldn’t deny it was intentional. you felt embarrassed by how quickly you tensed up, it wasn’t like this was new — jinx was touchy, not for any specific reason, she lacked boundaries it was as simple as that. so, when your heart rate picked up and your face got hot, you blamed it on the weed.

“your turn.” you mumbled, shakier than intended.

her hand slid on top of yours, her nails tracing circles on the back of your hand. you shallowed to soothe your sudden case of cottonmouth. “I think.. I want to kiss you right now.”

every letter in the word was elongated, making sure you didn’t mistake what she said.

“wh.. what?” even though you had heard her clearly, it was as if your ears were covered.

without saying anything, she adjusted to face you. her other hand wrapped around your jaw, forcing you to look at her.

jinx didn’t ask for permission, and you didn’t expect her to. so, when she leaned forward to kiss you, you were less shocked then you expected to be.

she definitely didn’t take things slow either, within seconds her tongue was in your mouth. despite this, it wasn’t lustful. it was gentle in a way you didn’t expect. her movements were pensive, her tongue exploring your mouth as if she was mapping it out to remember it for later. her lips were chapped, but soft, and she smiled into the kiss.

she was still smiling when she pulled away.

you couldn’t help but giggle, “woah.”

she rolled her eyes, which you couldn’t blame her for — ‘woah’ was a pretty dorky thing to say. and before you knew it, she was straddling you, her hands placed on both sides of your face.

and when she kissed you again, you thought you were dreaming.

this time, it was more aggressive. she was messy, yet meticulously, making sure she got the most out of every moment. every time you broke for breath, you were lucky to get an inhale before she was pressed against you again, with more force each time.

it became primal, like she was trying to eat you alive. god knew you weren’t complaining.

her lips moved from yours, yet they didn’t lose contact — she trailed a series of kisses starting from your lips to your jaw and they continued to your collarbone.

you weren’t typically vocal, but you wouldn’t deny a few whines escaped you when she began nibbling at the skin. it was definitely easier to deny your blooming feelings for her when she wasn’t marking your neck and pressing against you like her life depended on it.

that’s when it hit you, “when did you notice?”

“what? that you got the hots for me?” she chuckled against you, her breath hot against your skin, “not long ago — started pickin’ up on it when you freaked every time I touched you.”

“that obvious?”

she leaned back, shrugging. “eh.”

you tucked a lose piece of her hair that fell from her braids behind her ear “when did you… y’know?”

“when I met you, blew up a building to get away from enforcers and all you could say was that I needed to watch out for bystanders next time.”

you both laughed about that for a moment, you remembered when it happened — you were coughing from smoke and had said it, she had brushed you off until you were safe from the enforcers. once they had saw you with her, you were both in trouble so you ran.

it was a chaotic meeting, but what wasn’t with jinx?

“got any more questions or can I keep kissing ya’?”

you supposed any more questions you had could be asked later, plus, you enjoyed kissing her more than you enjoyed asking questions. “no, I think I’m good for now.”

a/n: not my best writing, but I wanted to get something out. requests are greatly appreciated!!

not proofread

images by @diana-foggy-master

dividers by @cafekitsune

[leahsfavefics]

Mr. Park is an Asshole

Author: leahsfavefics

Rating/Genre: M (18+); reverse tropes: nice guy who hates only you, academic rivals, but it's two teachers competing to have the best class. Both reverse tropes come from this post: https://www.tumblr.com/out-of-jams/747204416306806784/reverse-trope-writing-prompts

Pairing: Jimin x Reader (f)

Word Count: 11.5K

Author's Note: Part of the In Bloom collaboration with @kithtaehyung, @yoonia, @syllviere, @kpopfanfictrash, @suga-kookiemonster, and @cybrsan. Sorry, I'm bad at moodboards.

Summary: Ever since you joined the team as Darling Elementary's new art teacher, you've been welcomed with open arms. By everyone except Mr Park, the music teacher. Jimin seems to be the school's golden child, beloved by all (except you), and the organizer of the school's most popular event, the annual Spring Recital. When the school's poor budget planning requires Jimin to enlist your help on the recital, you wonder how you're going to manage working with your sworn enemy.

Warnings (explicit content): hot tub sexy time, fingering, Jimin talking you through it, 'good girl,' penetrative sex

Y/N:

���Winter break just flew by so fast, I can’t believe it’s already mid-January. Hopefully the rest of the year goes by this quickly,” you said, pouring two cups of coffee from the break room coffee pot. Despite the cheap and horrendous taste, the caffeine was a necessity and the warmth of the drink helped stave off that bitter winter chill that fought through all layers of cloth and skin to get right to the bone.

“Ugh but the second half of the school year always drags,” Heather complained, taking the mug you offered from your hands. “At least we’ll have the spring performance to look forward to. Jimin always does such a great job working with the kids to put on a good show. And it helps that spring break follows right after.”

“Winter break ended not two weeks ago and you’re already anxious for spring break?” you replied with a laugh, ignoring the bit about Jimin she mentioned. Mr. Park, the music teacher, was essentially the school’s golden boy. Beloved by everyone, faculty and students alike, kind, warm hearted, generous, talented beyond belief. Or at least that’s what you’ve been told. While you have witnessed that side of Jimin, it’s never been directed at you. In fact, you didn’t really seem to exist in his world, though you had no idea why. You’d seen him go out of his way at holiday parties to talk to everyone, including newcomers that he makes feel welcome. Yet ever since you accepted the role as art teacher at Darling Elementary he has not spoken more than two words to you.

“I’m always anxious for the next break. Oh, hi Jimin. Good Morning!” she turned her focus to the blonde haired teacher that just entered the break room. He wore a suit, his usual work attire, and his straight hair was tucked behind one ear. You hated how handsome he was. It was harder to dislike someone that was so beautiful.

“Good morning Mrs. Bailey!” He said, a charming smile on his face as he looked at her. “How did yesterday’s spelling test go? The kids were so focused on throwing words out to each other to spell during music class that we barely got to learning the songs for the spring recital.”

Heather winced, “Sorry about that! It went well, all that practicing during music must have helped.”

“No apologies necessary, it’s nice to see the kids excited like that about a test of all things. We’ve got plenty of time to learn the songs.” He poured himself a coffee of his own as he spoke. Once he was finished, he glanced at the black watch around his wrist. “I better head back, I have to meet with the principal about the budget for the show before class starts. I’ll catch up with you later.” He ducked out of the break room, leaving you and Heather alone once again.

“He hates me,” you said sullenly.

“What?! Oh my god y/n no, Jimin is the nicest guy ever. There’s no way he hates anyone.”

You rolled your eyes. “He’s the nicest guy to everyone else. He just ignores me.”

Heather laughed. “That is ridiculous, he was just talking to you.”

“No, he was talking to you,” you retort. “Didn’t you notice that he didn’t address me once? He barely even glanced at me!”

“Well have you talked to him much? It’s a two way street.”

“No,” you grumbled. “How am I supposed to? I’m still kinda new here, and he has made no effort.”

“Y/n, this has got to be in your head. He’s literally an angel. Just try talking to him.” 

You checked the time on your phone, internally celebrating when you realized you could use it as a way to weasel out of this conversation. “Oh, look at that, class is going to start in 10 minutes. I better get the supplies ready in my room!” 

Heather laughed, seeing right through you. “You can avoid it if you want, I just think you’re being silly.”

“Yeah yeah,” you waved dismissively. “Whatever. Have a good day! Send me calm children when it’s art time.”

JIMIN:

“We just don’t have it in the budget this year, I’m sorry.” 

Seething, Jimin sat across from Principal Walker and tried to keep his shit together. Flying off the handle wouldn’t solve anything; it wouldn’t get him the funds he needed to get decor for the annual spring recital, nor would it prove his point. It would only get him into trouble. He took a deep breath, his knuckles white where they gripped his knees beneath the desk.

“Mr Walker, the kids look forward to this show every year. The parents, the faculty, so many people look forward to this show, despite the fact that I’ve been funding it personally every year. You promised after last year that it would be worked into the budget this time. I can’t afford to keep paying for everything myself with a teacher’s salary.”

Mr Walker at least had the decency to wince and seem apologetic. “I know, and like I said, I’m sorry. What exactly do you need the money for again? Decorations?”

“Loads of decorations. It’s a winter turned to spring theme, we need dozens of snowflakes and flowers to sprinkle across the stage. I want it to be interactive this year, so the seats will start off with snowflakes and the kids will go around and hand flowers to the audience during one of the songs.”

“Well why don’t you ask Miss Y/L/N for help? Maybe she can add these snowflakes and flowers to the art curriculum.”

“No,” Jimin bit back sharply, bristling. He didn’t want that job thief anywhere near his recital. 

“It wasn’t a request, Mr Park. Talk to Y/N and tell her to work it into her curriculum. You have months, the kids can make the decorations.” He spoke with resolve that left no room for argument. “This will be better anyway, they’ll get to hand out flowers they made themselves to their parents and everyone. And then you don’t have to spend your own money again this year.”

Glancing out at the snow through the frosted window, Jimin sighed, clenching his jaw. He didn’t want to ask Y/N for a favor, he didn’t even want to talk to her. He found it difficult to even be in the same room with her, and it was only partly because he found her to be the most gorgeous woman he’d even seen. Erick had been let go for no reason and she had the audacity to come into school after taking his job, acting all nice and chipper with no remorse whatsoever. “Do I really need to ask Miss Y/L/N? Is there no other option?”

“You could buy the decorations yourself, but once again it has not been approved in the budget. I suggest you stop pressing the matter.”

“Fine,” Jimin said, grinding his teeth.

“I suggest you get going. Class starts in just a few minutes.”

He was being dismissed, and Principal Walker did not seem happy. That was only fair, Jimin wasn’t exactly happy either. Why did she have to be the art teacher? He would be fine asking literally anyone else at school. He stood, gave one sharp nod to Mr Walker, and left for the music classroom.

Y/N:

A knock at your door startled you, causing you to drop the bean salad you’d been all but shoveling into your mouth, trying to finish in the short lunch break between classes. You cursed, grabbing a napkin and whirling in your chair to face the intruder. 

“Jimin?” You balked, eyebrows creasing as you wonder why on earth he is in your classroom. 

“Miss Y/L/N. Do you have a moment?” he didn’t look any happier to see you than you were to find him at your door. Now that you knew he was the culprit of your spilled salad, you were even more irritated. Not only was he interrupting the one bit of time in the day you have to yourself, but he made you lose nearly half your lunch!

Grunting in response, you gestured to the many chairs in your classroom. He eyed them dubiously before finally strolling over and taking an uncomfortable seat on a chair meant for an 8 year old. If you weren’t so annoyed, you’d find it comical. 

“Why are you here?” you finally asked after a moment of awkward silence.

He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “I need to ask a favor.”

You couldn’t help the bark of laughter that came out of you. “A favor? From me?”

“Look, I don’t like it, but I don’t really have any other choices here.” He took a deep breath and leaned his elbows on the table before him, hunching awkwardly to try to get comfortable in the elementary furniture. “You know the recital?”

“The one you put on every year that everyone raves about, that is a glorified choir concert?” you said. “Of course I know it.”

His brows furrowed angrily at your description. He opened his mouth to retort, but seemed to  think better of it, closing his mouth and clenching his jaw until you could see the muscles twitch. It was… unfortunately, extremely attractive. Why does the biggest asshole at work also have to be the hottest? You thought.

“Well,” Jimin started, snapping you out of ogling him. You looked away, embarrassed. He continued unphased, his voice low and angry. “Despite being promised some sort of budget to put on the show this year, I’ve been left high and dry again. Principal Walker told me to talk to you about making decorations for the performance. We need snowflakes and flowers, at least two of each for each kid but likely more if you have time.”

“You want me to make decorations for your show myself?” you asked, incredulous. 

“No, of course not,” he answered. “The kids should make them. Work it into the curriculum. You already have supplies- glue, construction paper, pipe cleaners, and so on.”

“Jimin,” you said, setting the remains of your salad to the side to focus on this absurd conversation. “I already have the curriculum planned out for the rest of the year. We only have time for a few more projects, and especially clay will take at least a few weeks. I don’t have time, sorry.” You added the sorry as an afterthought, not really feeling the sentiment but following the urge to be polite despite your dislike of him.

He cleared his throat, fidgeting awkwardly in his seat again. 

“What?” you barked, wanting him to spit out whatever he was clearly fighting with himself about saying.

“Mr Walker told me that it wasn’t a request. That the kids will like making the decorations and will be proud of them. We’ve been tasked to work together on this.” 

You gaped at him and he looked down, refusing to meet your eyes. Swirling rage welled up in you. “So I have to re-plan the entire rest of the year?”

“The recital is in March, so not the whole year,” he offered. “Just like, the next two months.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh okay, just half the remaining year then, as if that’s so much better. Unbelievable.”

A moment rolled by, tension thick in the air as both of you sat glaring at each other. 

“Miss Y/L/N?” your head whipped over to the door, where one of your students had arrived early. Her face broke out into a grin when her eyes landed on Jimin. “Mr Park?! My two favorite teachers are in one room!” she exclaimed, bounding over to her seat. 

“Mr Park, will you be here for class today?” she asked. 

Jimin extricated himself out of the small chair and stood. His face was lit with a smile, an expression so wholly different from the way he’d just been looking at you that it was hard to believe it was even the same person. “No, I’m sorry, Anjelica. I was just leaving. But I will see you tomorrow at music class! Your favorite.” He shot the words over this shoulder with a smirk. All the kids always raved about music class with Mr Park, but since you took over the art class there’d been rumblings that the kids were doing the same with your class. You bristled, feeling competitive. If he was going to behave this way- always cold, demanding favors- you were going to do your damndest to steal his title of ‘Favorite Class.’

Y/N:

A long conversation with Principal Walker confirmed what Jimin had told you. Despite your protests, he refused to budge from his decree and you spent the entire weekend re-writing lesson plans and rearranging your curriculum for the remainder of the year. When you weren’t working on school stuff or sleeping, you were on the phone with your long distance bestie, Lisa, complaining ad nauseam about Jimin and the fact that you were being essentially forced to help him. 

By the time Monday rolled around, you felt as if you hadn’t even had a weekend. That exhaustion made you angry, and that anger fueled you as you stomped over to the music room before the school day had started and banged on the door. 

“Wha- Oh.” His expression changed from curiosity to a barely concealed glower as soon as he opened the door and saw you. “What do you need?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, bristling at his tone whilst simultaneously trying not to let your eyes dart down to his plump lips. They looked so soft, you wanted to bite them and draw blood. 

Clearing your throat, you met his dark eyes and tried to focus on why you were there. “If we’re going to have to work together on this, I need some direction.”

“Why? Do you really not know how to teach kids to make snowflakes and flowers? How did you get the art teacher gig if you don’t know that?” He sat on the edge of his desk as he spoke, black pants stretching across what were surely muscular thighs. He folded his arms, mimicking your stance, and you couldn’t help but notice as the sleeves of his jacket rose revealing veiny forearms. Focus, y/n. Focus on how much of an asshole he is.

“Of course I know how to teach kids to make that stuff. What I need to know are details. Do you need one or more specific kinds of flowers? Is there a color theme we need to stick to? Should the snowflakes be plain like made with white paper or should they have glitter or other decorations? Do you want me to keep going or do you get it now?” you finished, trying to refrain from grinding your teeth. He just made you so angry with this condescension. It was almost better when he wasn’t talking to you at all. 

“I see,” he said pointedly. “The kids can do whatever they want with the snowflakes, glitter, string, whatever else. As long as they stay mostly white. For the flowers, they need to be spring flowers. Tulips, daffodils, lilacs, lily of the valley.”

“A bunch of 7 year olds are not going to be able to make lilacs out of elementary art supplies.”

Jimin rolled his eyes. “Okay well you get the picture. Spring flowers only.”

“Got it.”

“Don’t screw this up, y/n. This performance is the highlight of the year for some of these kids. I’m trusting you with this huge part of it. The decorations better not wreck the show.”

If this were a cartoon, red would be rising up your body, whistling steam coming out of your ears. “My decorations will make the show. They’ll outshine your songs. And art class will become the new favorite class.”

He smirked, gesturing to the door. “It’s a contest then? May the best man win. Class is about to start, I suggest you head back to the art room.”

JIMIN:

“2 Iced Americanos for Jimin!” the barista announced over the cafe loudspeaker. Jimin got up from his seat to grab his drink. As soon as his hands closed over the iced coffees he regretted his choice. It was far too cold outside, and it would have been nice to wrap his hands around a warm drink. But, Erick always drank iced no matter the weather and Jimin had panic ordered, being too stressed with work to put any thought into anything else. Even something as simple as a coffee order. 

Just as he resumed his seat, a familiar face walked through the door. Jimin held his hand up to catch Erick’s eye, who smiled and took his seat across from his old university roommate.

“Chim! It’s been a minute. I’m glad we found time to grab a coffee and catch up,” he said, beaming at his old friend. 

Jimin took a sip of his drink and shivered. “I know! We’ve barely had time to see each other since you left Darling. I miss working together.”

Erick winced. “I do and I don’t miss it. I hated that job. I was so happy when they let me go.”

“What?” Jimin coughed, choking on his next sip of coffee. “You were happy? It was so slimy though, letting you go so they could hire a new art teacher instead of giving you tenure.”

“Well, yeah, it was slimy, but it was a relief. I was thinking about quitting anyway. Stacey and I want to start trying to have kids, and I just couldn’t imagine being around kids all day and then going home and taking care of more kids. I needed a career shift.”

Jimin sat for a moment, reordering events in his mind. This whole time he had been villainizing Y/n in his mind, thinking she came in and stole Erick’s job right from under him. Now he was finding out that Erick was not only relieved to go, but was likely going to quit anyway? 

“What is that look for? What are you thinking so hard about?” Erick asked. 

“I just didn’t know that.”

“I told you we were trying to have kids.”

Jimin waved this away. “I knew that, you guys told me at your holiday party. I didn’t know you wanted to leave Darling. I didn’t know you were happy to get laid off.”

“Yeah it was honestly great.” Erick said with a shrug. “But what does that matter?”

“Well…” Jimin cringed. “I haven’t exactly been very nice to your replacement…”

Erick’s jaw dropped. Jimin was almost never not nice. 

“I thought she stole your job!” Jimin said, defensive. 

“Dude, even if she did, it wouldn’t be her fault that the school did something shitty.”

Jimin wanted to fold into himself, suddenly ashamed for his behavior the last few months. Sure, he hadn’t been outwardly mean to y/n, but he had pointedly ignored her. Given how friendly he was to everyone else, surely she would have noticed. 

“You should probably fix that,” Erick said, laughing. “Also, if you’re that upset at how they treated me, maybe you should look for another job.”

“I was over winter break. Right now I’m so focused on the recital it’s hard to think about much else.”

Erick paused, then chuckled again. “I can’t believe you weren’t nice to someone. We roomed together for 2 years in college, I never saw you be anything but nice.”

“I was trying to be a good friend. Loyal,” Jimin whined. “Now I feel like a dick.”

“You might have been a little bit of a dick, but it’s not too late to fix it. You see her every day at work I’m sure, just start being nice.”

“Not too nice though, she is trying to steal my thunder at the performance.” Jimin explained to Erick that he once again got no budget for the recital, and had to resort to asking y/n for help from the art class. 

“So let me ask you this,” Erick said, once Jimin had told him the entire story. “Is this girl hot?”

Jimin blinked. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Um,” he coughed, unsure how to answer. “I mean. Sure, she is attractive.”

Erick smirked. “I think you have a crush on her.”

“What?! No, I don’t even like her.”

“You thought you didn’t like her because you thought she stole my job. She didn’t. You think you’re annoyed at her for saying her decorations will outshine your songs, but you don’t hear yourself talk about her. She’s helping you with the show.”

“Because she has to-”

“Sure she has to but she clearly wants to do a good job.  I don’t know, Chim, maybe I’m wrong, but the only other time I’ve seen you be this animated talking about someone was when you dated Clarissa back in college. I think there could be something here with this girl if you pull your head out of your ass.”

“Ughhh,” Jimin groaned, disliking nearly everything Erick was saying. But, as one of Jimin’s oldest friends, Erick knew how to read him better than most, despite the fact that they hadn’t spent much time together since Erick left Darling Elementary. Maybe he was onto something… but that was a possibility Jimin didn’t feel like considering at the moment. 

“Let’s talk about something else,” he grumbled.

Y/N:

You leaned against the break room counters, blowing on your coffee as Heather walked into the room.

“Hey!” Heather said, grinning. “Will you be at the teacher’s retreat next weekend?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there. I’m still so new, I don’t want to skip out on things like that and inadvertently ruffle any more feathers than I’ve already ruffled just by being here.”

She rolled her eyes, laughing as she poured herself a cup. “Are you referring to Jimin? You’re still convinced he doesn’t like you? I thought you were working together on the recital or something.”

“Is that what the rumor mill is saying? It’s more like I’m being forced by him and Principal Walker to rearrange my curriculum for the rest of the year to have the students make all the decorations.”  Several weeks had passed, and each day the students were getting more and more excited about the spring performance. They’d made all their snowflakes and were working on their flowers now, and it hadn’t cut into your normal curriculum as much as you’d thought. However, it was still disruptive to your flow and you were determined to stay annoyed at Jimin and Jimin only for it. 

“Oh that’s cute! They’ll be personalized and have more meaning. Plus I’m sure it will save Jimin a lot of money. He was determined after last year to have the school supply some funds for the show. I’m guessing they didn’t if he’s asking for homemade decor.”

Your attention was caught on one thing she’d said. “What do you mean, ‘save Jimin a lot of money’ ? Shouldn’t the school be funding this show each year? I assumed the budget was just a bit lower this year.”

“No,” Heather glanced around, making sure the room was empty before leaning in and lowering her voice. “This district notoriously does not give a shit about the arts. Despite all the praise the show gets every year, and how much students and parents and everyone look forward to it, the school has never provided any budget. Last year Jimin told me he ended up spending over $600 out of his own pocket on decor and set designs trying to make it perfect for the kids. But it made the rest of the year difficult for him financially. He put his foot down after that, saying he wasn’t going to spend a dollar of his own money anymore.”

“Oh shit, I didn’t know that,” you murmured, feeling guilty for giving him such a hard time about helping out. You just thought he didn’t get as big of a budget as he wanted or was being over the top. If you’d realized he’d been funding this all himself in years past you would have been more willing to help. Still irritated at reworking all your lesson plans, but you would’ve at least been nicer about it. “That sucks.”

“It does. He works so hard on it each year. I’m sure it’s hard for him to not be spending money to make it the best show possible, but I’m also sure the kids won’t care. They’ll love it anyway, especially if they get to feel like they’re helping with it by making the decorations during art class.”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, lost in thought. This put Jimin into a different light. You’d always just thought he was kind of an asshole. And he was, sometimes, to you. But a true asshole wouldn’t almost bankrupt himself to spend hundreds of dollars on a recital for 2nd graders. Maybe Heather was right, and you did need to lighten up a little when it came to Mr Park…

JIMIN:

Heaving a sigh, Jimin collapsed on the bed. A whirl of conflicting feelings about the weekend’s retreat overwhelmed him. On one hand, he needed a weekend away. He spent nearly all day during the week at school, running the music class as normal and preparing for the recital. On weekends, he stressed about not being able to be at school and get more work done. He hadn’t even chosen the final song yet, let alone taught the kids how to play it on their recorders. He’d just been so focused on a loose script and some makeshift set designs. While he was determined not to spend his own money, that commitment required more time to handcraft. Although y/n was helping immensely by providing the snowflakes and flowers needed, there was still a lot that fell on Jimin’s shoulders, and he alone would bear that burden.

However, as much as he needed a weekend away he would have rather it have been to visit his own friends or family versus spending the whole weekend with the colleagues he saw day in and day out anyway. And y/n. He’d continued to avoid her after his conversation with Erick, not wanting to face her and too embarrassed to admit that he had made a mistake. There would be no avoiding her on this trip, unless he wanted to still send the message he’d been sending since day one, but that wasn’t fair to her. None of it had been fair to her in the first place, and he knew he owed her an apology. 

“Ughhhh,” he groaned to himself, dragging himself off the bed. 

The school must have used the budget they’d refused to give him for the recital on this retreat- it was a nice hotel in the mountains about an hour away from the school. He’d heard some of the rooms even had jacuzzis, but was disappointed to find that his did not. 

While many of his colleagues had carpooled, Jimin drove up himself, wanting to arrive later so he could spend a bit more time getting work done. As much as he appreciated a getaway in a beautiful location, it stung that they were willing to spring for this but not for the kids’ beloved performance. But why would they, when Jimin had always foot the bill himself? They expected that, and intended to take advantage of his desire to do best for the kids as they had always done.

He shook off the thought, it left a terrible taste in his mouth and he hoped to actually use this weekend as a relax, recharge, reset. There were a few teacher workshops sprinkled into the schedule, and dinner as a group each night, but otherwise the teachers and school counsellors, psychs, and other admins had time to themselves. Jimin intended to spend the majority of that time in bed. But before he could do that, he needed to get ready for dinner. 

The first night’s dinner was informal. Rather than a suit such as he wore to school each day, he donned belted black jeans with a white t-shirt loosely tucked in. It was cold, so he slung an oversized yellow flannel and a leather jacket overtop. He slipped into a pair of black boots and pulled a beanie over his blonde locks. Patting his back pockets, he confirmed his wallet and room key were secured before leaving the safety on his room. 

Y/N:

Upon finding your name card on the dinner table, you groaned. Sure, you understood why assigned seats are nice for group events in theory, but when they placed you next to Park Jimin, you cursed their existence. You grabbed your place card, about to whisper shout to Heather across the table to ask her to move, when you heard his voice beside you.

“Hi.”

You froze, turning slowly. Jimin was actually looking at you with something that resembled kindness in his eyes. Blond hair fanned out over his eyes beneath a black beanie. You’d never seen him outside of school, where he was always dressed formally. Your voice caught in your throat, addled by how beautiful he looked and by the shock that he was paying any attention to you. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, his dark brows furrowing in concern as more time went by without you uttering a word, just staring at him dazedly.

“Yep!” you said, a little too loudly. You glanced away, needing to take your eyes off him to be able to string a sentence together. You set the place card back down. Now that he had seen you, there was no escaping the seating arrangements. With a sigh, you took your seat. You saw him hesitate for a brief moment out of the corner of your eye, but then he took his seat beside you. 

Sitting stiffly, you remained silent as your mind raced. Why was he talking to you? Why did he seem… nice? Something weird was going on, you wondered if you’d somehow fallen into an alternate universe.

As you awkwardly sat there taking sips of your water just for something to do, the table began to fill with your colleagues. As more and more people joined, everyone had to scootch in a bit to make room until your arm brushed Jimin’s every so often. 

“So,” Jimin said beside you. “How was your week?”

You glanced over, expecting him to be talking to whoever was seated on his left. However, his dark eyes were fixed on you. “Um,” you cleared your throat, fiddling with the napkin in your lap. You defaulted to talking about the common ground between you, thinking maybe he was just trying to find out where you were at in terms of progress for his show. “It was fine. The kids are excited about making the decorations. Principal Walker was right, they like feeling like they’re included in the creation of the production. And we’re making good progress, we will definitely have everything ready by the time you need it.”

He smiled, and being on the receiving end of that crooked tooth-ed smile took your breath away in a fashion you had not expected. “That’s great, but I wasn’t fishing for information on the status. I just wanted to check in. I-”

“Good evening faculty!” Principal Walker stood at the head of the table, and Jimin grimaced and shut his mouth. You wondered what he’d been starting to say, but didn’t dwell on it long as the principal gave a brief speech about the importance of community and an overview of the weekend’s schedule. 

The food was delivered shortly after the speech and you got to eating. Conversations flowed all across the table, and you found yourself chatting along with Jimin and others normally, as if there had never been any tension or frost between you. Though baffled by this change, the more wine you had the less you cared, just glad to avoid the awkwardness you’d been dreading ahead of the retreat. If Jimin was going to actually play nice for once, you weren’t going to look that gift horse in the mouth. You were, however, still determined to ‘win’ the little not-so-friendly competition between the two of you and be labeled ‘best class.’

JIMIN: 

As the weekend progressed, Jimin found it was just what he had needed. Sure the little work exercises were annoying, but he was finding himself spending more and more time with y/n and, to his surprise, enjoying it. He’d only been able to interact with her in group settings, however, and still hadn’t had the chance to really talk to her one on one and apologize for his prior behavior.

 He didn’t know how to approach that. He couldn’t exactly ask her to come to his room for a talk. That would be wildly inappropriate, and frankly now that he had admitted to Erick, and himself, that she was attractive he didn’t think he’d be able to handle being alone with her. He’d get all giggly and nervous. So, he’d spent his free time taking naps or watching TLC in his hotel room, trying not to think about her.

The final night of the retreat had come, and everyone was meeting at the hotel bar for a final mixer. It was the only ‘formal’ event of the getaway, and Jimin had donned black slacks and white button up with the sleeves rolled up past his forearms due to the blasting heat in the bar. He was one of the first to arrive and ordered a glass of champagne. He was whirling it in it’s glass, taking the occasional sip, when y/n strolled in. 

He froze, swallowing thickly as his eyes roved over her body. Though technically her dress was appropriate in that it did not violate any school dress codes, the way the black satin clung to her curves should have been illegal. She caught him staring and smiled as she raised a hand to wave. He sent her a thin lipped smile before promptly downing the rest of the champs and turning around to order another. If she was going to look like that all night, he needed some more alcohol in him to survive.

As the night wore on Jimin continued to mingle, making sure to talk to everyone at least once. At the start he was carefully avoiding y/n, afraid that he would say something stupid. However he could not deny the draw he felt towards her, especially not when he’d been continuing to drink.

Before long they found themselves leaning against the bar side by side, lost in conversation. One by one their colleagues returned to their rooms, but Jimin and y/n couldn’t pull themselves away until they were the only patrons left in the bar.

“So do you have one of those, uh,” he floundered, searching his mind for the word he was thinking of. “Those things in some of the rooms. Scuzzis?” Jesus Christ, he couldn’t even talk, he was so dazzled by her.

She laughed, and the sound was like the ringing of the most enchanting bells in Jimin’s mind. He couldn’t help but grin, despite the fact that he’d just made a fool of himself. “You mean jacuzzis? Yeah, I do. I haven’t tried it yet, though.”

“I’m jealous. When I heard they were in some of the rooms I hoped I’d get one, but alas. You’ll have to try it tonight and let me know what you think.”

“Excuse me,” the bartender interrupted, sliding two bills before them. “Sorry, but we’re closing.”

“Oh shit,” Jimin cursed, checking the time on his phone. Sure enough, it was nearing bar close. He didn’t know where the night had gone. He didn’t want it to end. He slid his card over onto both bills. “I got this,” he said when y/n started to reach for her own wallet.

“Are you sure?” 

“Of course. It was really nice talking to you,” he said, trying to get himself to say goodbye.

“It was,” she smiled. “Um. Would you want to come to my room for a nightcap? You could try that scuzzi.” She added with a wink, and he couldn’t help the ‘Yes’ that burst from his mouth as soon as she finished speaking.

Y/N:

As you slipped out of your dress and into your bikini, you couldn’t believe how bold you’d been at the bar. You just couldn’t handle the thought of the night ending quiet yet. Jimin was not what you ever would have expected. Before, you knew he could be kind, but being the focal point of his soft voice and his smile had butterflies erupting in your stomach. But he was also silly, stumbling over his words occasionally and whining about how the timeframe in Rings of Power is too compressed, though the cinematography was magnificent. You’d never seen this side of him, dorky and hilarious, and you wanted to see more. 

So you invited him to your room before you could stop yourself. Now, though, as a knock sounded at your door, the nerves were setting in. You took a deep breath and opened the door. 

Jimin stood before you in naught but black swim trunks, a white towel slung over his shoulder. Your eyes roved over his body unwittingly, snagging on a bold lettered tattoo scratched along his side. You’d never even considered that he may be tattooed under those suits he always wore. You had to forcibly drag your eyes away from the way the words stretched over the taut muscles of his abdomen. 

He smiled, catching your gaze. “I’m here for the jacuzzi” he emphasized. “Is that still alright?”

“Of course,” you said, swallowing your nerves and stepping aside from the door to let him in. “I’m ready.”

“I can see that,” he said, eyes darting down and back up as he took in your bikini clad body. 

“Well, let’s get in,” you said, closing the door to your room. The jacuzzi was situated just across from the bed, a button on the wall behind it to start the bubbles. You pushed the button, hoping the bubbles would somehow help dissipate some of the tension in the room. The air between you felt electric with attraction and champagne. 

You slipped beneath the water, groaning as you sunk deeper, becoming encased in warmth. 

“Don’t do that,” Jimin said, shuddering as he climbed in and sat across from you. “It sounds sinful.”

“Sorry,” you said, giggling. “So what do you think? Worth it?”

“Worth what?” he said, eyes half lidded in bliss.

“Worth coming all the way to my room? For the jacuzzi?”

“It was worth coming all the way to your room just to see you in that swimsuit. The scuzzi is just a cherry on top,” his eyes flew open as he spoke, seeming to take even himself by surprise with his words. “I’m sorry,” he said immediately. “That was inappropriate. I’ve had a lot of champagne, my filter is-”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off. “It wasn’t exactly appropriate of me to invite you here anyway, either.”

“But I’m glad you did,” he said. 

“Are you?”

He gazed at you for a long moment, no sound but the bubbling water between you. Finally, he moved, sliding over until he sat by your side. “Is this okay?” he murmured, barely audible above the bubbles. 

“Yes,” you whispered back, breathless with his proximity. He leaned closer until his lips were hovering over yours, nearly touching. Your eyes fluttered shut, breathing him in before closing the small distance. As soon as your lips touched, the tension in the room, between you, burst through whatever dam was holding it back and overwhelmed you both. It was a soft kiss for the briefest of moments before Jimin deepened it, slipping his tongue into your mouth and pulling you into his lap.

“You looked,” he groaned between kisses. “So fucking good in that dress tonight.”

You shivered at his words, heat that even trumped the warmth of the jacuzzi pooling between your legs. “You looked amazing too. So handsome. You always look so handsome.” You ground your hips against his, seeking friction.

He placed his hands on your hips, holding you still. “Please don’t do that unless you want to take this further. I can’t handle it.”

You pulled away just long enough to start peppering kisses along that sharp jaw of his. The one that had fallen open now, despite always being tightly closed in annoyance in your presence. You moved your hips again.

“Do you really want this, y/n?” he said, placing two fingers beneath your chin to make you meet his eyes. They were darkened with lust, his lips red and swollen already from the force of your kissing. 

“Yes,” you said, twisting your fingers around the blond strands of his hair and pulling him close again.

“God,” he moaned, reaching between your bodies to slip his fingers beneath your swimsuit bottoms. “How are you so wet?”

You laughed. “We’re in a jacuzzi, everything is wet.”

“Not like this,” he said, biting your shoulder before licking the same spot. “I can tell the difference between you and the water. The water isn’t so slick. It isn’t even so warm,” a finger slipped inside you and your head fell to his shoulder. “So tight.”

You felt his firm length beneath you and reached down, needing to feel him in your hand. “You’re so hard already,” you moaned. His fingers began to pump slowly inside you, his thumb swirling over your clit in a way that made it hard to think. “Do you want me that bad?”

“I want you. So bad, baby,” he said, shivering as you wrapped your hand around his cock and began to pump. “But I don’t have protection. So I’m going to have to get you off like this. I need to see you cum, I want to see the face you make. I bet it’s so pretty.” You didn’t answer, too lost in the feeling of his fingers inside you, over you. Your eyes fluttered shut as heat began to swirl in your belly.

“Close,” you whimpered, grinding your hips faster to chase the high. 

“Come on baby, you can do it. Come for me. Just like that. So pretty.” The encouragement sent you over the edge along with his voice, low and husky with lust. You trembled as you came apart, gasping at the overwhelming pleasure. When it was over, you slumped against him, taking a moment to catch your breath. Your hand had stilled on his still hard cock, and as soon as you had even remotely recovered, you wanted it.

“I have protection,” you said. “I always keep a condom in my suitcase. Just in case.”

He smiled, leaning in to kiss you. “Smart girl. Responsible girl.” He looked at you carefully, gauging your reaction as he continued to play with your pussy. “Good girl.” He must have felt as you gushed and twitched at his praise, for his smile widened sinfully. “Let’s get out and get on the bed to do this. There has to be some sort of health hazard to sex in a hotel jacuzzi.”

You laughed as you regretfully pulled yourself apart from him to exit the water. That laughter died as soon as his fingers slipped out of you. The sudden emptiness was entirely unacceptable. After rushing to dry off as quickly as possible, you rifled around in your suitcase until you found the condom and tossed it over to Jimin, who was running a towel over himself. You both peeled off your wet swimsuits and hung them up like responsible adults before crawling onto the bed. You glanced down to confirm Jimin had slipped the condom over himself. His dick stood firm, long and thick and ready for you. 

“I need you,” you whispered, sliding under him and pulling his face down until his lips met your own. You slanted your hips upwards, brushing your pussy against his length. 

“So impatient,” he said, running his dick over your folds. “Can you take me? Are you wet enough? I can go down on you first if you want.”

You didn’t answer, couldn’t, so focused on the way his cock was running along your sex. He took your lack of response as a ‘no’ and began to pull away, but you grabbed him. “No, no. I don’t want to wait. I’m plenty wet. Trust me. I don’t know if I’ve ever been this turned on.”

“Me either,” he answered, breathless as he pressed inside you. “God, you feel so good.”

“So do you,” you moaned as he settled his hips against yours, fully inside. 

“Are you good? Can I move?”

You nodded, “So good. Please move.” 

He didn’t waste another second, slowly pulling out before pressing back in and gradually increasing his speed. He pumped with a smooth roll to his hips that had you briefly wondering if he was a dancer. The control he had over his body, the way he was able to reach the innermost parts of you with fluid strokes, had you guessing he was. But then he hit that spot deep inside you that rendered you unable to think much of anything other than the feeling of him.

He grabbed one leg, hoisting it up and resting it over his arm before leaning down to kiss you. “You look so fucking incredible. I wish you could see how well you take my dick. How hot my girl is.”

You could do no more than mewl at his words as he pounded into you, the new position allowing him to reach even deeper. He hammered against your g-spot with every stroke, and you felt yourself almost vibrating with your impending orgasm.

“Are you close, baby? I can feel you getting even tighter.” You closed your eyes, pushing your head into the pillow when he grabbed your chin and slipped his thumb into your mouth. You sucked on instinct, opening your eyes to look into his own hungry ones. “That’s it baby, I want to see that pretty face again. I need to see how your eyes roll back into your head when you come.”

You bit down hard on him when the wave crashed into you, drowning you entirely in pleasure. The world shuddered black and white as you trembled, coming apart so entirely on his cock that you didn’t know if you’d ever be able to put yourself back together. A few more pumps that you barely even felt through the power of your orgasm and Jimin finished, collapsing beside you. 

“I need,” you slurred, drunk with pleasure (and a little bit of champagne, still). “To sleep now. That was incredible.”

Jimin huffed out a breathless laugh. “You have to get cleaned up first, babe.”

“I don’t think I can walk.”

He pressed a kiss to your brow. “Then I did my job well. I’ll take care of it. Just go to sleep.”

You curled into the covers, drifting away almost as soon as he was finished speaking. You vaguely felt as he cleaned you up with a warm, damp cloth, but that was all before you slipped into a deep, restful sleep.

JIMIN:

Jimin was yanked from the best sleep he’d had in ages by the alarm blaring on his phone. Eyes flying open, he felt disoriented as he glanced about the room. He sat in a ruffled, empty bed, but this wasn’t his hotel room, was it? 

As soon as he laid his eyes on the jacuzzi, drunken memories came back in a rush. This was y/n’s hotel room. He and y/n had…. Wait. Where was she?

“Y/n?” he called out, climbing out of bed and checking the bathroom. He checked the closet, there were no clothes. No sign that she had ever even been here. Surely he hadn’t imagined the night before. Even in his wildest dreams he couldn’t have come up with sex that good. And how else would he be waking in a different hotel room? 

Guilt gnawed at him as he thought of her, and why she may have vanished without a word in the morning. He’d never had the chance to explain why he had always been cold to her before. They’d been lost in conversation all night and then… well. Alcohol had lowered his inhibitions and his thought processing. He should have explained, ironed everything out, before jumping into bed with her. What must she think of him? Rude, until he had the chance to fuck her? He cringed, hoping that wasn’t the case. But why else would she be gone now? 

He grabbed his phone, hoping to send her a message before realizing he didn’t even have her number. He was just starting to really like her, becoming more and more enchanted the longer they’d talked, and he already royally fucked this up. With a sigh, he pushed his hand through his hair and grabbed his still damp swimsuit, pulling it on just for coverage before heading back to his room and packing up to head home. 

Y/N:

You’d fought off tears the entire drive home from the retreat, filled with regret. How could you sleep with Jimin, who had always made it clear he didn’t like you? And worse, after spending the weekend with him, getting to know him, you were actually starting to really like him. 

Your first instinct when you got home was to call Heather and tell her since she was only friend of yours that knew you both, but you thought better of it after careful consideration. You were still new to this school, after all, and though you didn’t think Heather would tell anyone else, you didn’t want to risk word getting out that you’d had a one night stand with a coworker. 

So, you picked up the phone and called Lisa instead. Sure, she didn’t know Jimin directly, but you had complained to her enough in the past about your hot asshole coworker, so she had the background to understand the gravity of what had happened. 

“Hey,” Lisa said, answering on the first ring. “‘Sup. How was that retreat? Are you driving home?”

“I’m home now, but I actually called to talk to you about that. The retreat was fine, but do you remember that colleague I told you about that was nice to everyone but me?”

“The music teacher?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course. What happened? Was he a dick to you this weekend? I bet it was awkward having to be at a retreat together.”

“Well that’s the thing. It was weird. He was nice all weekend.”

“What? That is weird. Maybe someone talked to him and told him to stop being an ass?”

That thought had not occurred to you, but you brushed it aside for the moment, focused on telling Lisa the rest of the story. You rushed through it, divulging all the details about how he’d been friendly since the start of the weekend and you’d decided to match his energy to avoid conflict. How you’d been lost in conversation at the bar that final night and drunkenly invited him up to your room for the jacuzzi. How he’d fucked you better than you’d ever been fucked, and lastly how you’d slipped out of bed the next morning and rushed out the door, panicking. 

“Holy fucking shit,” she said when you were finally finished. “So you didn’t say anything?”

“No, I left while he was sleeping.”

“Has he texted you or anything?”

You pulled your phone away from your ear to check for notifications from an unknown number. “No. I’m sure he’s feeling the same way I am this morning. Embarrassed. Maybe he’s also repulsed.”

“You don’t know that, I’m sure that’s not the case. Does he even have your number to reach out if he wants to?”

“Now that I think about it, probably not. I don’t remember ever giving it to him.”

“So he doesn’t even have the opportunity to contact you.”

You merely hummed in response, unsure how to feel about that.

“What do you want to do now, do you like him?”

You chewed your lip, weighing your answer. “That’s part of the reason this sucks. I think I do like him. Especially after last night. I’ve never had that sort of chemistry with someone, especially not the first time having sex. It was crazy. But, he hates me.”

“You don’t know that,” she reiterated. “Maybe whatever was up his ass earlier in the school year died and fell out. I don’t know, y/n, but I think you should talk to him. If you want to. If you don’t, then fuck him.”

“Thats the problem, Lis, I did fuck him,” you said, laughing despite yourself. “I’ll have to talk to him eventually, we’re working on this annual music performance thing together. But that’s not for another couple of weeks, so I think I can avoid him for a while.”

“I’m not sure if avoiding him is the way to go, but I support women’s rights and wrongs so I’ll back you whatever you do.” You smiled, grateful to have someone like her in your corner. “Look, I gotta go, but think about it. And call me tomorrow after you’re back at school, I want to know how it goes.” 

“Will do,” you said, hanging up the phone and heaving a sigh. You had no idea what you were going to do.

JIMIN:

The past week had been agony for Jimin. At first he was looking forward to getting back to school, hoping to see you and speak to you, maybe ask for your number and take you out. But he hadn’t had sight or sound of you on Monday. On Tuesday he bumped into you in the break room before class. His heart soared until he caught the look on your face- pure panic- as you abruptly stood from your seat and rushed out of the room without a word. 

That happened a few more times throughout the week, enough that Jimin got the message that you were avoiding him loud and clear. Clearly, you needed space after what happened. You must regret it, must dislike him after the way he’d treated you for the first half of the school year, and who was he to blame you? He probably would have felt the same way. But that didn’t make it sting any less. 

By the end of the week he simply couldn’t take it any longer. It pained him, he wanted to see you smile again, wanted to hear your laugh and talk to you again. But instead you rushed out of any room he walked into. So he picked up the phone and called the one person who knew about the situation.

“Erick, I fucked up,” he said as soon as his friend answered the phone. “That teacher I told you about, the one that took your job. You were right, when you guessed that I liked her. I didn’t know it then, but we had this retreat last weekend and long story short we had a few drinks and may have ended up hooking up.”

“Really? So you made up for the way you acted before?”

Jimin cringed. “That’s the thing, I didn’t get a chance to talk to her about that. To apologize.”

“What do you mean you didn’t get the chance? If you hooked up clearly you spent some time together. You could have said it then.”

“Well, yeah, I should have said it then. Before having sex with her. But we just got lost in conversation, I didn’t want to spoil the mood. I was enjoying getting to know her.”

“Okay, why didn’t you talk to her after?”

“She’s been avoiding me like the plague ever since. She was gone when I woke up, and I don’t have her number.”

“Get it from someone else. Surely someone at work has it.”

“I don’t want to overstep. She is clearly telling me, without actually telling me, that she needs space. I’ve already crossed a line by sleeping with her. I don’t want to make it worse by disrespecting her boundaries.”

Erick laughed, and Jimin scowled at the noise. “What?” he snapped. 

“Jimin, you’re an idiot. You’re giving her space because you’re afraid to talk to her and you’re making excuses to make yourself feel better about it.”

Jimin was silent, stewing at the truth in the words that he didn’t want to accept. When he didn’t speak for a moment, Erick continued. “You shouldn’t be giving her space right now unless she explicitly asks for it. You were a dick to her all year, then you two slept together, and now you’re not making any effort to talk to her about it? The ball is in your court, man. You need to fix this if you want to get anywhere with her. Even if it’s just to be cordial coworkers.”

“Now that I’ve…” he hesitated, trying to choose the right words. “Now that I’ve been with her, seen a different side to her, I don’t know if I could handle just being coworkers. That night would always be seared into my mind whenever I looked at her.”

“That good, huh?”

“The best.”

“Then you need to fix it.”

Y/N:

The door to the music classroom stood, menacing, before you. You’d been staring at it for the better part of five minutes, trying to work up the courage to knock. Taking a deep breath, you shifted the bag full of the flower decorations the kids had made to one arm and lifted the other, making a fist but stopping just short of the door, freezing once again.

Abruptly the door swung open, leaving you face to face with a startled Jimin. “Oh,” he said stiffly. “Hi.”

You awkwardly laughed, putting your hand down. “Sorry, I was just about to knock. I have the decorations, the kids finished at the end of last week. The flowers are in this bag, the snowflakes in the other. I had them put their names on the backs so they can pick them out and give them to their families.”

His eyes darted down to the two bags in your hands. “Great, thank you. Um, do you want to come inside for a minute?” He asked, stepping aside from the door to make room for you to pass.

“Uh, okay, sure…” you said. “Where do you want these?”

“I’ll take them,” he said, grabbing both bags from you. He opened one, peering inside and smiled. “These are perfect, Y/n. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you said, shifting from foot to foot. You didn’t know if you’d ever felt this uncomfortable before. However, at the same time your body was reacting to being in the same room with him for the first time since you’d left the hotel. Your skin was hot, and you felt tingly in your lower belly. Why did he have to smell so good? Like eucalyptus and winter. 

You needed to get out of here before you did something stupid. “Is that all?” you said. “I should go.” You took a step towards the door but he rushed forward, grabbing your wrist loosely with one hand. 

“Wait, Y/n, I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“We don’t have to talk about what happened,” you said, trying and failing to laugh it off. “It’s all good.”

“No, it’s not. Please, just let me explain some things.”

“I-” you hesitated, looking towards the door. You wanted to rush out the door and escape the tension of the situation, but you knew that wouldn’t make anything better. The least you could do is hear him out. “Okay.”

“Alright,” Jimin dropped your hand and stuffed both of his in his pockets before leaning against his desk. “When you got hired, it was on the heels of one of my closest friends being let go.” Your mouth opened in shock, but Jimin held up a hand to stop you from speaking. “Just let me finish, I want to get this right. He was up for tenure, but instead of giving it to him, they laid him off and hired a brand new art teacher.” He gestured towards you. “I… obviously didn’t handle it well. I was angry on his behalf, and rather than taking it out on the school board who was actually responsible, I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair. It wasn’t your fault, and I’m sorry.”

You paused for a moment, digesting his words. “I had no idea, that’s really shitty of the school to do.”

“Yes, it is. This district doesn’t really give a fuck about their teachers, but that’s beside the point. The point is that I was an asshole and I shouldn’t have been. Erick didn’t want this job anyway. When I told him how I’d been acting, he scolded me.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “You deserved it.”

“I know. Y/n, I can’t tell you how sorry I am. Especially after getting to know you better this weekend. I- I think you’re a great person. You’re interesting, and beautiful, and were kind to me even though I definitely didn’t deserve it.”

“Thank you,” you said, feeling your cheeks flush hot with the praise. “I really appreciate it. I’m sorry as well, for being kind of a brat when you asked me to help with the decorations. I know it must have been difficult for you to ask, and it sucks that the school left you in the lurch this year. I should have just helped without complaining. And I’m sorry for saying my kids’ decorations were going to outshine your show. That was childish of me.”

He grinned. It was perhaps the most beautiful smile you’d ever seen. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

You sighed, feeling lighter. “So we’re good?”

“We’re good.”

JIMIN:

The big day had come, and Jimin wiped sweaty palms on his pants nervously. No matter how many times he put on this show, the nerves never got better. Kids were unpredictable, and he always felt pressure to improve upon the year before. That was difficult this year, considering his refusal to spend his own money again.

For the last couple of months, the main focus of each music class was learning the songs and the structure of the performance. The kids had been doing wonderfully at practice the last two weeks, and he could tell how excited they were for the big day. He’d taken the decorations the kids made and sprinkled the snowflakes throughout the seats in the auditoriums. The kids all had their own flowers, so they would give those to their families during the last song, symbolizing the end of winter and the coming of spring. Though they weren’t all perfect, Jimin hoped that the personal touches of the decorations would make up for any flaws. 

“Alright everyone!” Jimin said, addressing the 2nd graders in their choir stands. He whispered behind the curtain, trying to avoid being heard by the audience. “We’ve gone over this, you know these songs like the backs of your hands! Let’s make this the best performance Darling Elementary has ever seen!”

He gave the cue for the music to start and as the children began to sing, the curtains slowly opened. Jimin rushed off to the side, not wanting to block the view. He’d be right there to step in if he was needed, but he felt confident that the kids could rattle off the songs without him. His eyes scanned the crowd, smiling as he gazed out over the grinning faces of teachers and parents. 

His smile widened when his eyes snagged on Y/n out in the audience. He’d felt better since their chat a few weeks back, ironing things out. But, he still had not said everything he’d wanted to say, and he had been too busy with any last minute preparations to slip over to the art room during school. And, damn him, he still hadn’t gotten her number. 

While he knew he should really peel his eyes away from her and focus on the kids, he just couldn’t. She looked so beautiful, eyes shining and lips curled up into a smile as she watched the kids sing and do their hard-practiced little dances. Throughout the entire performance he simply couldn’t take his eyes off her. 

As the last song started, the kids pulled their flowers from their pockets, making their way down into the audience to find their loved ones while still singing. They gave them their flowers and returned back up to the stage as the song came to a close, ending the show. Jimin stepped out to bow along with them, addressing the crowd for the first time. 

“Thank you all for coming! We hope you enjoyed the fifth annual Darling Elementary spring recital.” His eyes followed Y/n as she stood, preparing to leave with the crowd. Compelled to speak to her at once, he rushed off stage to catch up with her. Parents immediately surrounded him, congratulating him on another job well done, another great performance this year, what a wonderful touch having the kids create the props, and though he was grateful, he really was, all he could think of was y/n leaving. He’d missed so many opportunities to say everything he wanted to say, he’d be damned if he missed another. 

“Thank you so much,” he said, smiling and trying his best to be friendly though he felt rushed. “I just have to speak to someone quickly, but I appreciate everyone’s kind words!”

He slipped through the crowd, trying not to be rude as people tried to stop him. He chased her all the way out to the parking lot, shivering in his suit jacket as he called her name. She stopped, hand stretched towards the driver's side door of what must have been her car. 

“Jimin?” she looked startled, brows pinching in confusion as she put her gloved hand above her eyes to block out the sun.

He jogged over, murmuring a breathless “Hi” when he finally reached her.

“What are you doing? You should still be in there, talking to people.” 

“I know, I-” He turned, shooting a glance back towards the school. “I just saw you out there, in the audience. And I knew I needed to talk to you.”

“Okay?” 

“People were complimenting the decorations. Thank you again for helping with those.”

“You said thank you already,” she replied, and if he didn’t know better he’d think she seemed… disappointed. Like she’d been hoping he would say something else. 

“I know. That’s… not really what I wanted to come out here and say.”

She raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to continue. 

“Look, Y/n, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since the retreat. I think you’re amazing, and I want to spend more time with you. Get to know you more.”

Her cheeks were flushed pink, and Jimin wasn’t sure if it was the chill or the effect his words had on her. “I would like that too, but-”

“But?” his heart stuttered in his chest.

“I don’t know how appropriate it would be, us being coworkers and all. If something happened, if it didn’t work out. My reputation could be on the line. What happened at the retreat was amazing, but it was unexpected.”

He smiled. “Is that all? Well I haven’t told Principal Walker yet, but I received an offer from another school. It seems word of the recitals has gotten out, I was approached by a music school. After what happened with Erick and the budget this year I’ve been hoping to switch schools, so the timing seemed perfect. Plus, there’s this incredible woman at my current school that doesn’t want to date a coworker.”

“Jimin,” you gasped. “Really?”

“Really. This will be my last year at this school. So, that being said, will you go out with me?”

“Yes,” she said, smiling up at him. “When?”

“Right now?”

“Now?!” she balked, laughing.

“I’ve been waiting to spend more time with you for weeks, I don’t want to wait any longer. So let’s go grab a drink. We can celebrate the recital.”

“And your new job,” she added. “I’d love to go grab a drink with you.”

“Amazing. I just have one more question.”

“Hmm?” she hummed as he inched closer. He reached up and lightly ran his fingers over her jaw. He did not miss the way her breath hitched at his touch.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispered, his lips brushing hers. He felt rather than saw her smile before pressing her lips to his. It was like having water after a drought, getting to touch her again. He’d only had one taste but that was enough to have him addicted. He couldn’t wait to find out what the future would bring for them, together. 

[em1i2a3]

Cradle

Pairing: Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Mom(Post-Partum)!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Starts off on a bit of a scary note, Fluff, lot’s of it, reader went through a C-Section, and there is a reference to that, there is accidental swearing, and once again Bucky is just a super soft sweet boi being his sweet boi self…But all in all, very fluffy, very cute, just pure vibes.

Authors Note: This is connected to ‘Forwards Beckon Rebound,’ it’s a little bit of a continuation of sorts but it’s more of a blurb, there’s not a lot connected, this could be read as a standalone too though, I think. Also, Adrianne Lenker has really been a mood for me lately, and thank god she has so many beautiful songs because this one was so frickin fitting.

Word Count: 3,443

Taglist: @sleepysongbirdsings (y’all I’m so mentally old I’m slowly getting used to what to do for these posts lol, so if anyone wants to be part of my Taglist I mean…Give me a shout :))

The last thing you remembered before going under was Bucky’s voice. His large hands framing your face, his thumbs running along the bags under your eyes.

”I promise I’ll be here when you wake up…” His voice was cracking, fear breaking through his words. He was terrified, you could see it in the way his dark blue irises scanned over your face, taking every detail in as if this could be the last time he saw you. Everything happened so quickly that neither of you had time to process anything. One moment you were in the hospital bed getting checked, the next they were preparing you for an emergency C-Section. You were panicking, scared for the baby, scared for yourself even.

You reached up and squeezed his fingers tight–a desperate goodbye you didn’t want to be saying��nodding through the tears that streamed down your face, then the cool oxygen mask slid over your mouth and nose, and you were taken under a sea of black.

————-

Coming back to consciousness felt like being dragged through wet cement. Your limbs were heavy and numb, as if they were being pinned down by invisible weights. Your throat was burning and your mouth was dry, you assumed it was probably from the tube they had put down your throat during the surgery to make sure your breathing was controlled, you heard them mention it in the chaos of them preparing you for the C-Section…At least you thought you did.

Thankfully there was no immediate pain, just a deep, tight ache that buzzed in your lower abdomen reminding you of what just occurred two and a half hours ago.

You felt like you were floating, half-aware, but half-asleep, until the sound of voices pulled you closer to the surface.

“You’re doing perfect hun,” A soft, coaxing voice said, you assumed it was a nurse. Her tone was patient, and warm, almost motherly even.

”I’m…I just haven’t done this before…I don’t think I’m doing this right.” Another voice cracked out, low and thick with nerves. It was Bucky. Your Bucky…Your rock...You could feel your chest twist at the sound of him so worried, but there was such relief when you heard that voice.

“You’ve been doing great. She’s calm, she’s breathing steady. Been asleep for the past hour after that big feed. You’re keeping her warm and giving her something steady to nap on, I’d say you’re a pro.” You could feel your body immediately tense at the word she. A baby girl. You had fought to keep the gender a secret from yourself, and now knowing gave you some sort of second wind in a way, a push to try and keep yourself over the edge so you could stay at least semi-conscious.

There was a soft rustle of fabric, a faint creak of a chair, and the sound of shifting. You forced your eyes open, just the tiniest bit, fighting against the weight that was trying to pull them closed again.

The first thing you saw was him.

Bucky was sitting stiffly in the reclining hospital chair, his broad shoulders hunched slightly forward, like he was attempting to curl himself around the tiny bundle in his arms, trying to make himself seem small in a way, which was nearly impossible given the sheer size of him. His hair was pulled back in a bun, and he was shirtless, with a soft pink blanket covering a portion of his chest and midsection, containing as much warmth as possible. His vibranium hand hovered awkwardly over the fabric, resting there for support, but not fully touching, letting his other arm do all the heavy lifting. You could see the way it was wrapped around her, his enormous hand cupping nearly her whole back with the most delicate kind of softness.

Your vision was still swimming, but you could make out the faint shape of a tiny hand–impossibly small–splayed out over the center of Bucky’s broad chest. Her little fingers twitched now and then, though there were no shifts or squeals, not yet at least.

The entire sight was almost too much to take in.

You could see how tense Bucky was even from across the room, his jaw tight, his brows drawn together. It was easy to tell he was nervous and worried that he might accidentally do something wrong, and every muscle in his body showed that through the way they locked and tensed into place so that he could hold himself perfectly still.

”I-I definitely don’t feel like a pro,” Bucky muttered, “I’m scared I’m gonna hold her too tight…She’s so small.” The nurse chuckled softly, adjusting the blanket a bit higher over the baby’s back with a practiced hand, moving carefully, and reading the tension that was running all over his face. She was treating him with the same tenderness she might offer a brand-new parent, even though she knew the situation.

“She’s not little. Nine pounds, two ounces is a chunky little peanut.” The nurse teased gently, patting Bucky’s vibranium arm reassuringly, “You’re just a big ol’ mountain of a man, and you make everything look tiny.” Bucky gave a small, uncertain laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes, even though it did ease him a bit. He continued to cradle the bundle against him, dragging his thumb along her warm skin, a small smile coming up on his lips as he looked down at a carbon copy of you, just in tinier form.

His head dipped slightly, his nose brushing against the crown of the baby’s fuzzy head, breathing in without even realizing he was doing it. His eyes fluttered closed, and for a second he looked younger and softer than you’d ever seen him before.

“Is it weird if I say she smells like spun sugar…Like Coney Island cotton candy…That real sweet, sticky kind of smell.” Bucky asked quietly, his voice rough with nerves and awe as he cradled the bundle tighter to him. The nurse let out a soft, affectionate laugh.

”Not weird at all,” She soothed, “Every baby’s got their own smell, it’s kind of like a new car smell…But for tiny humans, and you’re certainly not the first tough guy to melt over it, either.” You could see Bucky’s cheeks turn a faint red through the blurriness in your vision. You swallowed against the dry scrape in your throat, heart aching as you opened your mouth to form a word.

”Bucky…” It was barely a sound, just a breath in the air, but he had heard it. His head immediately snapped up, his wide blue eyes locking onto you from across the room, a wave of relief washing over him. His mouth parted, but no sound came out, and he looked wrecked. It was like he had heard the most important voice of his life. The nurse nudged him slightly.

“C’mon, big guy, let’s bring her to mama hm?” Bucky blinked up at her like he’d forgotten he could move, like the only thing that was keeping him focused was you and the tiny heartbeat that was pressed against his chest. Slowly, he shifted to his feet, the nurse helping guide him as he adjusted his hold on the baby with exaggerated care. You could see the way he kept his vibranium arm hovering uselessly by his side as he stepped towards you, and you could feel tears filling your eyes at the gentleness of it all.

You tried to lift your arms, desperate to reach for the both of them, but they barely twitched against the sheets. A helpless whimper tore itself from your throat.

”My arms are still numb.” You croaked, feeling the tingling heaviness that plagued your nerves. Immediately the nurse was beside you, smoothing a hand over your shoulder.

”That’s alright sweetheart, we can still get her tucked up against you, Bucky over here can climb in beside you and secure her on your chest for extra safety.” Bucky stood frozen for a second, looking down at the tiny bundle, then at you.

“I would like that.” You replied quickly. The nurse smiled at your response and held her hands out to Bucky motioning for him to hand over the bundle so he could slip onto the mattress, and fill the space beside you. The hand off was gentle, and you could see the look on his face when the soft warmth of the baby’s skin left him, like he was holding onto the fleeting moment. He kicked his shoes off and brought down the railing beside you, carefully sliding underneath the covers, the mattress shifting beneath the new weight he introduced to it. You knew it would be a tight fit, but you wanted him there with you, and no matter the close proximity, you just craved his steady presence, and he gave you that with no questions.

He slid his vibranium arm around your shoulders, curling it carefully around you, bringing you closer to him with such a protective instinct that you could feel your heart beating out of your chest, leaning into him, absorbing the warmth that radiated off his skin.

”Alright, now you’re gonna help me a little bit and just untie the top of her gown so we can get the little one tucked in.” Bucky nodded once, like he was taking orders on a mission. He reached up to the shoulders of your gown, and you could see the hesitation in his eyes, before gently pulling on the ties, loosening them slowly just enough to reveal the top of your chest. The cool air ghosted across your skin for just a fraction of a second, then the nurse carefully placed the tiny, perfect weight of your daughter onto your body.

The moment her skin touched yours, it was as if the whole world cracked open. The heat of her, the fragile rise and fall of her chest against yours, the indescribable softness of her cheek pressing into the curve of your breastbone, the way she nuzzled her little nose into you with her fists curling up tight against your body–it was overwhelming, but worth every second. You could feel the coolness of Bucky’s vibranium hand run over your bicep, soothing you the only way he could in those moments as he looked down at you, watching tears flowing down your cheeks. You were so relieved everything was okay, and now that your eyes were on her, the instinct of wanting to be closer pulled at every fiber of your being. Bucky brought his arm over her back so he could hold her closer against your chest, keeping her nuzzled on your skin so you could take in every moment, even though you couldn’t cradle her on your own yet.

“That’s perfect sweetheart,” The nurse said quietly, tucking the soft pink blanket loosely around all three of you, securing the warmth once more without actively separating everyone, “I’m going to step out and give you all some privacy, if you need anything the call button’s right on the bed rail.” The both of you nodded, but you weren’t even sure you heard her properly because you were so enamoured by the little bundle that was frowning against you.

The door clicked softly behind the nurse as she stepped out of the room, leaving the three of you wrapped in a bubble of silence. Neither of you moved at first. There was too much floating in the air around you–gratitude, wonder, a love so thick it was hard to breathe through. The only sound that could truly be heard was the tiny, steady coos of the newborn sleeping against your chest.

Slowly, Bucky shifted closer to you, and without a word he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead. It was feather-light, the kind of kiss that would’ve broken you in any other situation apart from this. When he pulled back, his lips ghosted another peck against your hairline.

”You are…Incredible.” He whispered, his voice trembling with the weight of everything he was holding in, “The strongest person I’ve ever met.” He added, another kiss landing right on your temple.

“I’m so proud of you Y/N…” You closed your eyes at his words, a fresh wave of tears burning behind the lids, as you leaned down to press your cheek against the tiny crown of soft fuzz that was your daughter’s head, breathing in to calm your heart from seizing up from the overwhelming sensation of love that coated it. You let the scent of her settle in your lungs, and it hit you that it was exactly how Bucky described it. Sweet and warm, soft and sticky like spun sugar on a summer day. You let out a little, tearful laugh against her head.

”You really are right…She does smell like cotton candy,” Bucky let out a low, broken chuckle, tightening his arm around you, his hand stilling against your bicep, shifting so he could get even closer to you.

“I thought I was hallucinating, so I’m glad you confirmed that. I assumed the nurse was just trying to ease my worries when she said it was normal.” You let out a quiet giggle, looking up at him.

”I think it was for the best. You looked so nervous…Like a gentle giant.” He blushed at the way you said it, realizing that you had been watching and listening to his interaction with the nurse for longer than he thought.

“Yeah well…I was scared,” Bucky replied sheepishly, his eyes flickering from you, down to the tiny sleeping bundle against your chest, “She’s a carbon copy of you…I didn’t want to accidentally do something wrong.” You smiled through the burning in your throat, bringing yourself even closer to him, nuzzling into the steady shelter of his body.

”You did amazing, Bucky…” You whispered. He let out a shaky exhale, as if he’d been holding his breath for hours, his forehead tipping down to bump yours. You know how much he needed to hear that, and how much it soothed the nerves that were ripping him apart from the inside. The baby cooed gently, shifting a bit against you, her tiny fist moving along your chest, like she was trying to get closer.

The both of you watched her, your chests moving in sync, taking in deep breaths, and after a while, he broke the silence.

”So…” He said softly, his thumb stroking absently along your forearm, “Have you thought about what you’re going to name her?” You could feel a smile tugging up on your lips at the question.

”I have,” You responded gently, shifting slightly so you could see his face better. He pulled back a little as well, giving you his full, undivided attention, his eyes focused on yours, scanning over your face in anticipation.

”I’ve actually known for months,” You admitted, watching as Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed. You usually told him everything, but this was a secret you kept safe until today, not wanting to be too reliant on getting a specific gender, because truly it didn’t matter, all you wanted was a healthy baby. He tried to hold himself back from looking too desperate for your answer, but you saw through it.

“I want her to have the name of the person who raised my second favourite human being in the world,” You said quietly, your voice trembling with such tenderness it almost felt like you were shaking against him. You could see the cogs turning in his head, his brows pulling together even tighter like he was trying to figure out what you meant by that. You loved seeing the confusion in his eyes in that moment, and it made you smile through the tears that began to build up in your eyes.

”Winnifred,” You whispered, “I’m naming her Winnifred.” You could feel the air get sucked out of the room, watching Bucky’s jaw go slack, blinking hard, once, then twice, like he didn’t trust himself to believe what he just heard. His throat bobbed in a rough swallow, as he took in a small breath.

”My ma…” He rasped, his voice breaking into pieces, his eyes glistening over with unshed tears as he stared at you like he was witnessing a miracle “You…You’re naming her after my ma?” You nodded, smiling through your own tears. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, like he was trying to ground himself, his forehead lowering until it rested lightly against yours, his breath shuddering out over your cheeks.

“You deserve everything good in this world, Bucky…And she would be so proud of you…I want to honour that.” You could feel him shake slightly, as he sniffled, pulling back to look at you again. The sheer sight of him wrecked you, his blue eyes swimming with tears that clung thickly to his lashes. You wished in those moments you could reach up to hold his face between your hands, but they were still tingling.

”You’re…You’re my sun, Y/N…” He whispered, his vibranium hand slipping from your bicep to cradle the side of your face with aching tenderness, “You’re the center of everything for me…I choose to be in your orbit every second of every day…And I don’t want to do anything else.” You could feel yourself choke up a little bit, as Bucky carefully leaned forward, kissing your cheeks gently, soft and slow, like he was memorizing you.

“Because I love you…So fucking much.” His breath ran over your skin as he said the words so lightly you could barely hear them over your pulse pounding in your ears. His confession hung between the both of you, filling the space and sinking into your body like sunlight after a long, brutal winter. You closed your eyes at his thumb dragging along your cheek, your breath trembling as you pushed yourself to speak.

”I love you too, Bucky…I always have.” There was a moment of silence, and you opened your eyes to look at him, seeing a small smile on his lips. It was such a relief to finally say it aloud, and it was the perfect moment to do it. He breathed you in for a fraction of a second, then without words he shifted. His hand slid from your cheek to the side of your neck, his fingers splaying out to anchor himself there. You tilted your chin, nudging your nose against his, then finally…His lips touched yours.

It was barely a kiss at first, it actually mirrored the way you had brushed the corner of his mouth with yours the night he had felt the baby kick for the first time, but only this was more like he was offering himself to you. Surrendering.

You let out a small exhale through your nose, and Bucky answered with a breath of his own, pressing a little closer, kissing you now with just the slightest bit of pressure. The softness of his lips captured yours in such an aching, and burning way…Because it was him kissing you with a kind of worship so raw and stripped down that it made your chest swell.

You kissed him back with everything you had, and with as much care as he gave you, trembling against each other with the weight of it all–the baby sleeping on your skin, the love that tied you together, the history, the hope, and the future.

When you finally broke apart, it was by small fractions, neither of you really willing to let go–your noses brushing, your breath still tangling together in the space between you.

“I’m all yours…” He whispered, letting the words fold into the fragile air, like a promise. Like a prayer. You closed your eyes for a second, breathing every inch of him in–his warmth, his steadiness, and his devotion.

“Forever and always, Bucky…Till the end of time.”

[omegaseverywhere]

Omega!Ghost who did not put down your file the moment Laswell said you would be joining Taskforce 141. Who took one look at your face, your rank, your skillset and felt his clit throb. Who, when he caught a whiff of your scent, had a panic attack in the bathroom because he couldn't stop slicking. Omega!Ghost who stalks behind you silently, staring. Sometimes, he's in the corner of the room. Sometimes, hes right behind you. Multiple times a day, you will turn around and he will be there, just looking at you. Locked in. Pupils dilated. He can't help it. He likes looking at you. (Gaz had to take you aside and tell you that no, Ghost isn't hunting you. He really isn't. I know...I know it feels like it but I promise-)

Omega!Ghost who says nothing to you for weeks after you meet. Not a damn thing. Not even when you both are with the other members of the taskforce. And because he doesn't say anything for a while, when he does - a little awkward compliment that reminds you of Shang from Mulan - you nearly shit yourself. Omega!Ghost who casually threatens anyone he hears may have a thing for you. Other Omegas. Betas. Alphas. Anyone can catch his hands. "You'll never find the body isn't a great threat. A better one would be "They'll be finding your body parts for months...and you'll be alive for at least one of them." (Price had to stop him because recruits were dropping like flies) Omega!Ghost who had a DNR tattoo and offical medical DNR papers to match but no longer does because of you. He believed no one would ever miss him. You proved him wrong, therefore he will now fight Death itself in your name if it comes to it. Omega!Ghost who has no idea how to court or show someone he's interested. Who also knows he's a giant tank of a man who can probably rip a person in half with his bare hands. Who decides that 'Alpha's like a strong mate right? S what Google says.' Who starts lifting random heavy objects when you are around for no reason.

Omega!Ghost who found out you took lunch in your car on Fridays when not on a mission and decided to join you once and then promptly exited the vehicle when you asked him why he decided to deadlift the fridge that morning. He was not prepared for that and he made a split second decision to leave immediately. (Soap is still laughing about it)

Omega!Ghost who is relieved when you start making moves. Who sinks into you so quickly, falling into his barely used Omega instincts to chirp and purr and submit. Who beams behind his mask when you order him food and drinks, when you leave him a scent-fused hoodie, when you train with him and push him to go harder...you aren't together but you will be and it makes him so happy.

Omega!Ghost who only agrees to go through a heat to purge his body if you are around to guard him. He isn't going to ask you to join him - because he isn't sure if either of you are ready for that - but he wants you to guard him. He trusts you to guard him. Keep him safe.

Omega!Ghost who, when asked if he was going to guard you during your rut, wondered why it was even a question. He was going to do that regardless. No one is getting to you. He'll rip people apart with his teeth if they think they have the balls to approach your rutting room.

Omega!Ghost who gets an incredibly thorough examination done just to see if he has any damage that would prevent him from having pups. He never thought about pups before but now that he's met an Alpha that he wouldn't mind having pups with, he needs to know. He frames the report that tells him that he's perfectly fertile.

Omega!Ghost whose purr is the loudest thing about him. Its very much giving motorcycle revving. He always hated it but it seemed to be the only thing that kept you stable when you were being evacuated, unconscious, and bleeding out from three separate bullet wounds so he doesn't think its so bad anymore.

Omega!Ghost who gets gooey when you scent the inside of his masks when he has to go on his own missions. Its grounding, having your scent nearby. Keeps him focused. Keeps him determined to not fuck anything up. Keeps him coming home.

Omega!Ghost who makes a horrifically embarrassing noise the moment you knot him for the first time and feeling grateful that you are too preoccupied with burying your fangs in his neck to claim him to notice. He does, however, notice the noise you make when he bites you back and teases you for it for the rest of your lives.

[bloomseishiro]

DAYDREAMING, WITH MY CHIN IN THE PALM OF MY HANDS — ITOSHI RIN

౨ৎ — sure, rin may be an asshole, but for some reason he offered to help tutor you in your worst subject, english. so maybe he’s not as bad as you thought. maybe he’s actually someone you could find yourself falling for. 

itoshi rin x fem!reader. fluff, high school au/no blue lock au, pining, the long awaited part 2 of “it’s impossible to ignore you” :3 ahh i loved writing this omg reader and rin r everything to meeee!! pls enjoy xx

word count. 6.3k 

“Rin is going to tutor you?” your friend, Akemi, asks with her jaw on the floor. “The same Rin who rejects girls by saying he doesn’t have time for them?” 

You nod sheepishly, just as surprised as she is. “He knows if I fail one more exam, I’ll have to retake the class during summer. And he offered to help me. Still, I won’t do it if you don’t want me to.” 

Her eyes widen as she takes a bite of her beef rice bowl. “Why would I not want my best friend to get help from the best English speaker in our grade? I don’t want you to fail!” 

“But he broke your heart just yesterday!” 

Akemi sighs, waving her hand dismissively. “Yeah, he did. And he sucks for that. But I guess I was more infatuated with him than in love. I mean—what’s his favorite color anyway?” 

You shrug.

“I don’t know either. Someone in love should probably have known at least that,” she giggles. “You don’t need to turn down a great opportunity on my account.” 

Giving her a grateful look, you mumble, “I really do want to pass English. Do you think he can actually help?”

“If he can’t, who can?”

“The Tooth Fairy? Maybe if I find a tooth to put under my pillow…” 

She makes a face. “First off, that’s gross. Second, I think the Tooth Fairy only gives you money, not a passing grade.”

You groan, placing your head in your hands with an exaggerated movement. 

Akemi simply laughs at your dramatics. “Oh, come on. Studying won’t be that bad. When’s your first tutoring session, anyway?”

“It was supposed to be now,” you reply, twirling a strand of hair as you glance away to avoid her incredulous stare. “But I just couldn’t start without making sure you were okay with it first! I asked Rin if we could postpone…”

“Y/N!” she exclaims, practically slamming down her bowl of rice onto the cafeteria table. “That’s so stupid of you! And sweet. Very sweet. You’re the best friend ever. But you could’ve been at least three times more knowledgeable about English by now!” 

You give her a sideways look. “Three times? Don’t you give Rin too much credit?” 

Akemi raises her brow at you. “Have you ever paid attention to him speaking English? Three times better in one session is the minimum. Go text Rin and reschedule for after school.”

“But—”

“No buts,” she says sternly. 

“But,” you continue in an exaggerated tone, “he has soccer practice after school.”

“Tell him you’ll wait for him then,” Akemi offers as if it’s the most obvious solution in the world. “You are the one who cancelled your lunch session at the last minute, after all. It’s the canceller’s duty to reschedule.” 

“That’s not even a word.”

She glares at you. 

You sigh in resignation, holding your hands up as you swallow the last bite of your food. “You’re right. I have English with him next period. Apparently. I’ll ask him if he can tutor me this evening when I see him.” 

Akemi nods in satisfaction, giving you a wide grin and a thumbs up. “Good luck, Y/N. I know you’ll ace the next test!” 

Exchanging a small smile, you nod in determination. “I will definitely pass. The next exam will be mine!” 

At least, you hope so. That is what Rin told you, after all, and soon it’d be time to see if he lives up to that promise. 

Half of you expects Rin to say no, that he’s too busy to tutor you tonight and it’s totally your loss for cancelling on him in the first place. But to your surprise, he simply nods. 

That’s how you find yourself sitting on the bleachers as you watch Rin playing soccer at his after school club. 

Oddly enough, it seems you aren’t the only one. 

“Oh, my god! Rin is so good,” the girl to your left, a few rows away from you swoons. 

“Yeah, he’s totally in charge on the field,” says another in a similar, dreamy tone. “So intense!”

A guy sitting next to them snorts, folding his hands over his arms. “Too intense. All he cares about is soccer and winning. Nothing else.” 

You raise your brow, looking over at the group with your peripheral vision. There was no doubt in your mind that the guy had a crush on one of the girls he was with, but she was too hopelessly infatuated with Rin to notice. 

The classic highschool love triangle.

Sort of. Maybe it’s more of a broken love line.

As the sun begins to set, the coach ends the practice and tells everyone to keep up the good work before dismissing them. 

You silently watch Rin down a bottle of water before grabbing a clean towel to wipe his face and neck. Seeing as the practice was over and it would likely be time for your tutoring session soon, you make your way down to the field.

“Not another one of Rin’s secret admirers,” one of his teammates groans to another. “I’ve seen enough rejections this week to last a lifetime.”

If Rin can hear them (which, given he’s only three feet away, there’s no doubt that he can’t), he chooses to ignore them completely. Instead, he saunters over to you and nods in greeting. 

“Give me a minute to change, then we can go,” he says, brushing his hair out of his face with his fingers. “Wait for me by the door.” 

From the corner of your eye, you see his teammates’ jaws drop as Rin begins to walk away to clean himself up.

“Is he willingly…speaking to a girl?” whispers one with a bleached blonde streak in his fringe. 

Another shivers, a horrified look on his face. “I feel like the world just turned upside down.” 

You stifle a laugh at their dramatics. The concept of Rin willingly interacting with someone of the opposite sex shouldn’t be that revolutionary. But, you have met Rin, after all. His stoic and uncaring persona did run rampant at times. Perhaps their shock isn’t so misplaced.

Much to your pleasure, you don’t have to wait long for Rin to finish up in the locker rooms. The outfit he changed into is a casual one—a simple crew neck and black joggers—but he somehow manages to look fully put-together. 

He comes up to you and you wave, finally allowing yourself to smile. “Hi, Rin.” 

“Hey,” he says, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “Ready?” 

You nod, walking side-by-side with him as you skip over to the school library. It’s not open for too much longer, but it should be enough for you to get a good hour of tutoring in. 

“How was practice?” you ask conversationally as you make your way down the hall. 

Rin shrugs. “Nothing special.”

You huff to yourself, glad to see he was as chipper as ever. And to think you two almost had a moment after that train ride… It must’ve been your delusions talking. 

As he enters the library, he finds a table for you to sit at near the back, away from the librarian and remaining students so as to not disrupt them with your talking. 

“The last test we had in the class was about reading comprehension, right?” asks Rin, pulling out a children’s picture book written in English and handing it over to you. “Is your issue that you don’t know the words, or you don’t understand the meaning?”

“Of course I know the words!” you cry indignantly, proving yourself by reading a random page of the book and translating them out loud in Japanese. “Back when all we did were vocabulary tests in the previous years, I aced those. It’s the…putting it together I don’t get.” 

He nods as if he expected it. “I figured you would know how to translate it. You are in the advanced English class, after all,” he says dryly. 

“Somehow,” you murmur.

“Knowing how to translate each word to Japanese is different from understanding it in English.” 

“That’s what the hard part is,” you agree miserably.

Rin snorts, “Then maybe you shouldn’t have done Advanced English. You would’ve done just fine in the normal classes. This is the only teacher who actually cares about our conversational and comprehension skills.”

“But I always take the advanced classes!”

“How’s that working out for you?”

You glare at him. “Well, it’d be better if my English tutor was actually helpful!” 

He rolls his eyes. “I’m getting there. I have to gauge how bad you are before I know where you need help.”

You heave a sigh, unable to argue with his logic. 

Rin searches something on his phone before showing it to you. “Here, can you read that?” 

Nodding slowly, you say the title in Japanese, “Analysis of relative gene expression data using real-time quantitative—”

“In English,” interrupts Rin exasperatedly. 

You frown. “But… I don’t know how to pronounce it.”

“It doesn’t matter. Just try.”

Try and make a fool of yourself? No thanks. 

You shake your head stubbornly. 

Rin pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales loudly. “Okay. Well, you can theoretically translate a research paper, but you don’t know how those words go together. And you can’t make sense of it in English.”

“Sounds accurate,” you sniff. 

“All that knowledge about vocabulary and grammar won’t do you any good if you can’t understand the source language,” he comments, deadpan but not rude. 

“Well, how do we fix it, doctor?” you say sarcastically. 

He huffs, taking his phone back from you in one swift motion. “We put you through the most intensive training regimen I know. Watching English movies.”

Your next tutoring session is at Rin’s house. 

It’s a nice house, but rather empty. There are pictures of him, his parents, and someone you assume to be his brother scattered throughout the hallways, but no one else is home. When Rin opens the door, he doesn’t even have to greet anyone or introduce you to his parents before bringing you to his room. 

The session starts with Rin going over some grammar and sentence structures from an earlier class (one that you definitely slept through), and segues into you reading another children’s book. This time, he demands you read it in English and give him a summary about what it’s about instead of translating each word into Japanese. 

“The larger context is more important than each individual word. Even if you don’t know a few words, you should still be able to understand what’s going on,” he says, already sounding impatient. But really, you think that’s just the perpetual tone of his voice.

This time, you dutifully listen. You had to put your trust in Rin’s tutoring skills if you wanted a chance to pass the class. 

As you read through the picture book with a giant elephant on the cover, your brows furrow in confusion. You aren’t sure if you’re just complete ass at reading English, or if the story was genuinely this bizarre.

“Rin,” you say hesitantly.

“Hm?” 

“Is this really about an elephant finding a small planet on a speck on a clover? And no one believes him because they can’t see it? Until they… Yopp?” 

Rin nods, looking thoroughly impressed. “So you can understand some English.”

“I don’t think half of the words in this book are even real!” 

“Exactly why it’s a perfect way to force you to focus on the context over translations,” he retorts. 

You can’t help but laugh at the absurdity. Still, it did help you find some confidence in your comprehension skills. If you can read English on a paper, maybe understanding it audibly isn’t so far out of reach. 

Turning the TV in his room in, Rin lazily turns to you. “Time to start the intensive part. Let’s watch a movie in English. I’ll keep the Japanese subtitles on for a bit, but then change it to English subtitles only.”

You bite your lip, fiddling nervously with a thread on your sleeve. “I don’t know… That sounds a lot harder than reading a picture book meant for five year olds.”

“We can pause when you need to and go slow.”

Reluctantly, you nod. “What are we going to watch?”

“The Conjuring.”

“What’s that about?”

“You’ll see.” 

Rin sits on one side of his bed, gesturing for you to join him. Your cheeks begin to burn at the implication of joining him in bed, but the butterflies instantly turn into dust the moment he so obviously scoots away to put the most distance he possibly can between you two. 

As you blink at him questioningly, he simply explains, “My TV is better than the one in the living room. I’m not trying to…” 

“Yeah. I know.”

“Yeah,” he finishes awkwardly. 

The moment the movie comes onto the screen, your eyes widen with dread. It’s dark, and eerie, and you immediately know what this is. 

“A horror movie?!” you cry indignantly. “I did not sign up for this.”

“The plotlines in American horror movies are relatively simple,” insists Rin. “It should be easier for you to follow compared to a drama.”

You squint at his explanation, taking a pillow from his bed and hugging it close to your chest. “That sounds like baloney.” 

He snorts in amusement, eyeing the way you are clutching his pillow in a death grip. “Why? Are you scared?” 

“No!” 

Rin sighs, “I’ll keep the lights on.” 

You pause before muttering, “Thanks.” 

The movie starts and you immediately regret all your life choices. Is Rin trying to help you pass your English class, or is he secretly trying to torture you?

Rin really is an asshole…

It doesn’t take a genius to feel the sense of suspense and unease in the film, even if you didn’t fully understand what the actors were saying. You knew there was some demonic supernatural shit going on and you immediately hated it. 

Rin extends his leg and you can’t help but yelp at the sudden movement. 

Your head snaps to his, eyes wide and alert. 

“I was just getting a cramp,” he says with a hint of laughter in his voice. 

Of course, you were scared out of your mind and he was laughing. What do all the girls even see in him? 

You huff, sinking deeper into his bed and allowing his pillow to block more and more of your vision. In your fear-clouded haze, you vaguely notice Rin offering you another one of his pillows to hold. Those fluffy feathers would certainly be enough to fend off any evil spirits. 

During a particularly intense part, you find yourself abandoning the pillows and creeping over to Rin’s side of the bed, too scared to register how you grabbed his arm and buried your face in it. 

“I’m going to turn off the subtitles now,” he says, but you don’t let go of him as he reaches for the remote to change the settings. He glances over at you, his lip curled up. “Do you need a break?”

“No.” You shake your head fervently. “Let’s get this over with as soon as possible.”

He shrugs and resumes the movie, almost unfazed as you attach yourself back onto his side. 

This isn’t something you’re used to doing when you watch a movie with someone. In fact, you’re normally perfectly content sitting in your own personal space. But this movie was terrifying and you were willing to use anything that provided some source of comfort.

Besides, it doesn’t seem like Rin minds… Knowing him, he would’ve shoved you off the bed or told you to move if he got too uncomfortable. Plus, this situation is all his fault anyway. 

To your surprise, you understand some of the phrases the actors are saying despite having only English subtitles. Though, it comes at your own demise as you grow even more scared at the movie. 

You yelp as a jumpscare scene occurs, hiding your face behind your hair and pressing your cheek against Rin’s arm. 

A stifled laugh comes from beside you and you’re about to tell him off for finding enjoyment from your misery when he casually brushes your hair back behind your ear. The words on the tip of your tongue instantly become nothing but a forgotten whisper as your stomach flip-flops about ten times in the span of five seconds. 

The gentleness of his touch still burns your face. You look up at him, confused. 

“You can’t watch when your eyes are covered,” he says with his attention already back to the movie. 

You huff in annoyance. Trying to read Rin is harder than English.

For a moment, you’re tempted to put on a brave face and pull away, but you catch Rin looking over at you once more. This time his gaze is covert, as if he doesn’t want to be noticed. But it’s there. Though his expression is neutral, his eyes are bright as they burn into yours. When he sees you staring back, this time he doesn’t attempt to look away. 

Okay, so maybe you could understand why he had girls always swooning over him. 

The intensity of his gaze almost makes your cheeks flush. Almost.

Luckily for you, a sudden and loud noise from the movie jolts your mind away from…whatever that moment was.  

As the movie comes to an end and the plot is left unresolved, you are still as unsettled as you were when the movie first started. That is to say, Rin really screwed you over by making you watch this. 

“I officially hate you,” you proclaim as he turns the television off. 

“Again?” He raises his brow. “Why now?”

“Because, what kind of asshole makes someone watch a horror movie that will traumatize them for the rest of their lives?!” 

“It’s just The Conjuring.” 

You glare at him but he pays it no mind. 

“If you’re scared, that must mean you understood it,” he says smugly. 

“It’s not difficult to understand when there’s creepy music and dark shadows and everyone sounds slightly insane!”

“See, it’s all about context.” 

“I hate you.” 

“Do you?” he challenges. 

You sigh, “No. Well, maybe temporarily because there is no way in hell I’m going to be able to sleep tonight.” 

Rin fixes the pillows on his bed as you get off. “Are you really that scared?” 

“Yes! Do you think I’m faking this for dramatic effect?” you ask, incredulous. 

“No, but it’s just a movie. You don’t need to be scared once it stops playing.”

“Tell that to my brain.” 

Rin snorts and you fold your arms over your chest, looking out the window and wincing once you notice just how dark it is. 

“The sun’s already down?” you say with a small voice. “Maybe I should ask my mom to pick me up…” 

“Don’t you live nearby?”

You nod, toying with a strand of your hair nervously. “Yes, but a demon can still get me within the ten minutes it takes to get home.”

Rin shakes his head but grabs a jacket as you begin to pack your belongings. “I’ll walk you home, then.”

You pause as you’re shoving your pencil case into your book bag. “You will?”

“Better than having someone come all the way here just to escort you,” he says dryly, leading you out the door. “And…I guess it might be slightly my fault you’re scared.” 

“Slightly?” you retort. “It’s definitely all your fault.” 

“That’s a funny way of saying ‘thanks for the tutoring session, Rin.’”

You pull a face, crinkling your nose as you repeat monotonously, “Thanks for the tutoring session, Rin.” 

He rolls his eyes but there’s a softness to his movements. “Yeah. Sure. You really are improving, you know?” 

Begrudgingly, you nod. When he wasn’t making you read weird books and watch scary movies, he was surprisingly patient explaining concepts like participles and tenses. That part was certainly easier for you than trying to read and comprehend in English, so you were glad he pushed you to do that as well. Though today, it may have cost your sanity. 

“I guess I should be more genuine,” you say guiltily. “I really am thankful for your help. I know you could be doing lots of other things with your time. Like, practicing more soccer or…watching scary movies. Or… Actually, I don’t know what else you do in your free time.”

He shrugs. “That’s about it, really. I play horror games, too, I guess.”

“With friends?” 

“Does it seem like I make friends?” asks Rin in amusement. 

You shake your head sheepishly. “Your brother, then?” 

He frowns at the mention of his brother, his bright eyes growing dimmer. “No. Definitely not with him. Alone. I play alone. I like it better that way.” 

Sensing that you accidentally overstepped on a touchy subject, you clear your throat and look away. “Well, that’s fun too.” 

After a few moments of awkward silence as you walk down the poorly lit street, Rin offers, “Sorry.” 

You spare him a questioning glance. 

“For snapping,” he continues with an annoyed exhale. “We’re not on good terms. My older brother and I.”

You nod in understanding, lightly bumping your shoulder against his. “I could tell. I’m sorry for bringing him up.” 

Rin waves you off. “It’s whatever.”

It’s definitely not whatever, but okay, you say to yourself. 

The two of you continue walking down the street, turning the corner in silence, but this time it’s not awkward or uncomfortable. Just a neutral calmness. That is, until you hear the sudden ring of a bicycle bell and jump in fear. 

Rin coughs to hide a laugh. 

“I don’t even want to hear it from you!” you sniff, haughtily crossing your arms and walking ahead of him. “You’re the one to blame for my jitters. How will I ever sleep tonight?”

He raises his hands in surrender. “I know, didn’t I say I’m sorry already?” 

“A sorry isn’t enough,” you say with a humph. “How will you atone?” 

“You sound crazy,” he says, but humors you nonetheless. “I’ll send you funny cat videos until you fall asleep.”

Your ears perk at the offer. “You drive a hard bargain. Fine.” 

“I don’t have your number.” 

Rin hands you his phone and you swiftly add yourself as a contact. 

“Did you really add yourself as ‘Rin’s Worst Nightmare, devil emoji, devil emoji’?” 

You nod proudly. 

“Just remember you said it, not me,” he smirked. “What will my name be on your phone?”

“Probably something like, ‘Number One Pain in my Ass.’” 

“Creative,” he drawls. 

You stick your tongue out at him.

Your walk continues and soon enough, you see the outside of your house come into view. There’s a light visible through the window and you thank the stars you won’t be coming home to a creepy, dark house. 

“This is my stop,” you announce with a smile. “Thanks for walking me home.”

“Yeah. I guess I did owe you for scaring you shitless.”

You laugh in acknowledgment. The movie was scary, but at least there were moments you could get your mind off it. “And don’t forget you still owe me cat videos!” 

Rin nods. “I’ll send them after I get ready for bed. Try to get some rest now.” 

“You too, Rin.”

“How are your tutoring sessions coming along?” asks Akemi, laying down with her head hanging off your bed. 

It’s Friday night after school and Rin told you that he would be too busy to tutor you tonight, which makes it the perfect time to catch up with your friend.

“Good, actually.”

“Why do you sound so surprised?” she laughs. 

“I thought he would change his mind and leave me to dry,” you reply with a giggle. “Rin’s offer was so sudden, you know? I was partly expecting him to take it back.” 

“That does seem like something he’d do to most people,” Akemi agrees, then shoots you a devilish grin. “But not to you. He must like you.”

You shake your head in denial. “There’s no way that’s the case.” 

“But what if it was?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows. “Would you be happy? Maybe you even like him back?” 

Groaning, you throw a pillow at her face to stop her incessant questioning. 

There’s simply no way Rin liked you. He was just slightly nicer to you because he thought you were someone who is actually worth his time. Whatever that means. 

And there’s an even less chance you like him! 

Rin has his caring moments, you will give him that, but most times he’s arrogant, emotionally unavailable, and ruthless. Somehow, those qualities suit him…

You catch yourself, shaking your head feverishly at the thought. 

There’s no way you could be developing a crush on Rin. 

So why do you feel yourself getting butterflies as you think about your next tutoring session? 

This session is at your house this time. 

You’ve had a handful of meetings in the library over the past few weeks, but Rin decided it was time for another intensive training session— Meaning, it was time for you to watch another movie. 

“It won’t be horror this time,” he assures you, tone only slightly mocking. “I think you’ve gotten decent enough that you can graduate to a more confusing genre.”

“Like romance?” you say excitedly. If Rin forced you to watch a scary movie that gave you nightmares for two weeks straight, then you could force him to sit through some romance movies you know he would hate. 

Heaving a sigh, he begrudgingly shrugs. “Student’s choice. Also, it’s your house. I don’t know what movies or streaming services you have.” 

“So you’ll watch 10 Things I Hate About You with me?” 

“It can’t be a movie you’ve already seen,” Rin says, folding his arms as he leans back on your couch. “The point is to try to piece together the plot and what the characters are saying, not recite something you’ve seen a million times.” 

You pout, sitting on the opposite end of the sofa. “But it’s a good movie…”

“We’ll watch it another time. After you pass the exam.”

After you pass? So Rin’s implying he wants to keep hanging out with you even after these tutoring sessions are over? Your cheeks flush at the thought. 

As you scroll through numerous streaming sites, you finally find a title that sounds familiar. 

“My friend told me this one is good! How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days,” you point out eagerly. 

“You must like the number ten,” he comments. 

“You’ll love it too after this!” 

Rin stifles a chuckle, and you realize you’ve been hearing him semi-laugh more often lately. The ruthless ice prince does have a fun side to him. He is still, after all, just a high school guy in your grade. And you hate to admit that it fills you with some sense of pleasure knowing you’re the only one in school who has likely ever heard that noise come out of Rin’s mouth. 

“Since it’s my first time watching too, we can compare our summaries after.” 

You groan, almost forgetting that this was a tutoring session and not just a movie night with a friend. “Compare summaries? What’s next, do I have to cite my sources?” 

He rolls his eyes at you. “Keep it up and I’ll say yes, you do.” 

Immediately, you shut your lips, desperately wanting to avoid as much outside-of-school work as possible. 

“This is so cheesy,” complains Rin as the two of you watch the movie in silence, both invested in the plot. “He has a bet, she has an ulterior motive, they’re going to fall in love while using each other, the reveal is going to split them apart, then they’re going to make up somehow and then the movie will end. I don’t even need to finish it to know.” 

You glare at him, eyes fixed on the screen as Andie exchanges a touching conversation with Ben’s mother. “Spoilers, much?” 

“I’m not spoiling, it’s an educated guess.”

“Keep it to yourself,” you demand playfully, sticking your tongue out. “Some of us like to be surprised.” 

He exhales loudly but turns his attention back to the TV. 

The rest of the movie passes by peacefully until you get to a certain scene where the main characters have their obligatory romantic kiss. The kiss is slow and playful, and the scene is so intimate you almost have to look away. 

Bashfully, you take your eyes off the screen and see Rin following suit, the apples of his cheeks colored a faint pink. 

He looks rather cute. 

Your mind starts to wander, picturing you and Rin sharing a kiss like the one on screen and you find your throat getting dry. Would his lips be soft or chapped? They look soft. Would he be the type to hold your chin, your cheek, or your jaw as he kisses you? Maybe even the back of your neck, if you were lucky. You wanted to find out…

Slapping your hands to your face, you silently tell yourself to snap out of it. 

He looks over at you, alarmed. “Did you just hit yourself?” 

“I thought I felt a fly.”

“On both cheeks?” 

“A fly on one side and a mosquito on the other.”

Rin’s brows shoot up before he shakes his head, knowing sometimes, it’s better not to question your logic. “Okay.”

Slowly, the scene escalates from a couple of gentle kisses to the characters taking each other’s shirts off. 

Your eyes widen as your gaze is forced away once again. 

“Hey. What the hell is this rated?” Rin coughs, his voice strangled. “Aren’t your parents home?”

Through your embarrassment, you glance at him in surprise. Did he really sound flustered just then? So Rin really does have the capacity to feel normal human emotions after all. 

“Um, PG-13, I t-think,” you stammer, painfully aware of the actors continuing to make out topless on the television. “My parents are gone for the weekend, anyway.”

“Oh.” 

It’s not until the scene is over that you and Rin both let out a sigh of relief, as if the tension could finally escape your bodies. You sink into the cushions, glad that you and Rin decided to sit on opposite sides of the couch. Otherwise, you would’ve been even more aware of his presence and curious about his kiss. 

Neither are good things to focus on. 

When the movie ends, you wipe away a stray tear at the conclusion. Of course, Rin was right about the entire plot, but that didn’t make it any less amazing. 

“So, what’s your rating?” you ask once the credits finish rolling. 

“For a movie that’s not horror, maybe a four.”

“Damn, tough crowd,” you say with a tsk. “I loved it! I would give it at least an eight.”

“You’re too generous,” retorts Rin. “What’s your summary?” 

You rattle off the happenings of the movie from start to finish, even going so far as to talk about your favorite moments.

When you finish talking, Rin nods, looking pleased with himself. “So you understand. We didn’t even use Japanese subtitles.” 

“You’re right!” you exclaim, eyes full of excitement as you exchanged glances with him. “I’m definitely ready for the exam! I feel so much more confident in English comprehension already.”

“Told you you’d pass with me as your tutor.” 

“I haven’t passed yet!” 

“But you will,” he says, his tone overly-confident. He would be insufferably arrogant if he didn’t have the skills to back it up. Luckily for him, he did. “Soon, I won’t need to tutor you anymore.”

A barely-there frown crosses your face at the reminder. 

Would there be no reason to see each other outside of school once you passed the class? 

Something about that unsettles you. 

Minutes of silence pass before Rin waves his hand in front of your face. “Hello?”

You swallow, forcing a smile. You don’t need to be thinking about that right now. “Sorry, I just spaced out there.”

“I can tell,” he says, somewhat amused. “It is getting late, maybe you need some sleep.”

That isn’t the case, but you nod in agreement. 

“I’ll head home, then,” Rin states, standing up and slipping his jacket on. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

You wave, walking him to your door and watching him walk away. “See you! And thanks for the help.” 

He looks back briefly, raising his hand in acknowledgment and even that single shared glance is enough to send jitters through your body. 

Closing the door, you rest your head back and groan. There’s no point in lying to yourself anymore. Not after you literally fantasized about making out with him while he was sitting right next to you. 

You have a crush on Rin. And you are so screwed. 

“Rin! I passed! Look, look!” you exclaim, holding your test paper out excitedly. 

Class just ended and the teacher handed you your text back with a swift, “Nice job.” That might’ve been the best compliment you received in this class all year. 

Naturally, the first person you wanted to show it off to was the one who helped you get the grade in the first place, Rin.

He pauses at your desk, peering closely at the grade on your test and nodding once. His lips are turned up in the slightest smile and he ruffles the top of your head. 

“You did it,” he says. 

You smooth down your hair, trying not to pay too much attention to how nice and warm his hand was. “All thanks to you.”

“I know.” Rin begins to walk to his next class and you follow along, bouncing on the balls of your feet nervously. “You did good too, I suppose” 

“Gee, thanks,” you remark dryly. Still, an excited cheer comes out of you. “I don’t need to stay after graduation! How great is that?”

“You can enjoy your summer before we are thrown into adulthood.” 

“I know!” you chirp. “And I really couldn’t have done it without you. Hey, how about… Never mind.”

Rin pauses, hanging around the hallway instead of entering his next lesson. He lifts an eyebrow in question. “How about what?” 

The words get stuck in your throat as you open your mouth, your nerves getting the better of you. You aren’t someone who finds it easy to confess, and you know Rin’s track record with confessions isn't exactly great. 

Yet, you want to ride the momentum of this excitement and ask. It’s now or never.

You take a deep breath before you ask, “How about I treat you to some dinner this Saturday? You know— As a thank you for your help.”

You can barely look Rin in the eye as he stares at you, cheeks dusted pink. 

“I told you before we started you don’t need to give me anything in return,” he insists. 

Immediately, your face falls. Of course, he would say no. At least he sugarcoated it for you instead of his typical cutthroat rejections…

“But, we can still get dinner this Saturday.” 

You lift your head in surprise. 

“It’ll be my treat, though.” 

You blink. “Like a…? As in a…?”

Rin’s brows furrow at your nonsensical mutterings. “A what?” 

“A…” 

“Can you say it already?”

“A date?” you blurt. 

He snorts, shaking his head in amusement. “Now, was that so hard to say?” 

You pout at his teasing, sticking your lower lip out as he chuckles. “Hey. Don’t be mean.”

“Sorry,” he amends, though his smirk tells you he’s not actually sorry. “The answer is yes.”

“Huh?”

“It’s a date.”

“Really?!” you ask, unable to contain your excitement. Before he can even reply, you bounce closer to him, throwing your arms around his waist as giving him a hug. 

He stiffens for a moment before slowly returning your embrace. Rin’s hand rests on the small of your back and you want nothing more than to stay like this. 

Until the bell rings and snaps some sense into you. 

You jolt at the sudden ring and Rin coughs to hiss his embarrassment at the public display of affection. 

“Oh, shit! I’m late. So late,” you cry, holding the strap of your book bag and spinning around frantically. “Bye, Rin! Let’s talk about our date after school!”

“I’ll see you after practice then,” he calls out as you run off. “We can plan it while I walk you home.”

Your cheeks heat up and you feel thankful he can’t see the embarrassment evident in your expression. Who knew Rin could be smooth like that? Saying he’ll take you out on a date and walk you home today so casually? 

It’s another side of him you want to get to know more about.

There are times he can be an asshole, and honest to the point of being uncaring. But he’s also surprisingly nice at times. And even patient.  You hope the next layer for you to unravel, which is perhaps the most exciting of all, is to learn how Rin is as a boyfriend. 

You giggle to yourself at the thought. Would he be teasing and mean? Or doting and affectionate? Maybe a bit of both.

Shaking your head, you stop yourself from fantasizing. It’s just one date, that doesn’t mean he’s your boyfriend yet. But you’re in no rush. The most fun part is the journey it takes to get there.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

I was going through a thought and wondered, how would Stan and Ford react to you getting hurt? Like on a mission, heist, or exploration.

[ how Stan & Ford react when you get hurt ]

a/n: sometimes my imagination is so embarrassingly bad, but i tried! i hope you enjoy it despite that <3 thank you for the idea tho!!

STANLEY

★ if it happened outdoors, Stan is grabbing your arm, yanking you to your feet, “what the hell were you thinking, huh?!” if it’s a mission or a heist, he’s 100% mad at the situation, and lowkey mad at you for getting hurt in the first place. but it's just because he cares too much

★ you’re hurt, and his mind is racing. “no. no. not this. not you, goddammit”

★ if it’s really bad, like you’ve passed out or you’re not responding, he panics. “c’mon, please, please stay with me, sweetheart”

★ whatever the situation, Stanley gets you out immediately, doesn't hesitate or finish the job or whatever he was doing. he literally carries you if he has to, forgets his own injuries. “c’mon, c’mon, i gotcha, we’re gonna get outta here, baby, stay with me.”

★ if you're bleeding bad he physically presses his hand over it and curses under his breath like “shitshitshit fuck, okay okay, you’re alright, you’re good, you’re so good, baby, fuck, hold still”

★ if it's really bad, he can't help but be emotional. screams at anybody who even tries to slow him down. doctors, nurses, cops. “if you don’t fuckin’ MOVE i’m gonna PUT you through a WALL.”

★ after you're safe, sleeping or resting, Stan gets very very quiet. sits by your bedside hunched and still worried, not knowing where to put his hands. instead, just keeps replaying this situation in his head. how he could've stopped it or what he should’ve done

★ if you so much as whimper in your sleep, he's immediately there. touching your wrist, smoothing your hair, whispering “s’okay. i gotcha. m’right here.”

★ i hate to write that but. . . he absolutely cries :( and hates himself for it even more. he tries not to cry loudly. at least, not obvious. but these stubborn angry tears keep falling and he wipes away fast because he’s mad they’re even happening

★ blames himself because guess why? he thinks he's a screw up. even if it wasn’t his fault. even if you jumped in front of danger to save HIM. he feels like your hurt is a debt he can never repay. and he’ll work twice as hard after

★ probably won't let you lift a finger for a week and will even argue with you about it. “what, you’re gonna get up and make yourself dinner with that leg? sit your sweet ass down before i TIE ya to the couch, baby, ok?“

★ absolutely buys you a stupid little get well gift. like a giant teddy bear idk. it’s ugly and cheap and it makes you laugh and he looks at you like he’d go back to hell and back for that smile

★ his hands are too rough and he knows it, so when he tends your injuries, he touches you so soft it's almost clumsy. “m’sorry, kid. my hands ain’t. . . they ain’t good for delicate stuff. but y’know i’m tryin’, right?”

★ “yer skin’s too good for bruises. shoulda been made’a stardust, i dunno.” then immediately snores and drools on your shoulder

★ Stanley hides his injuries from you. if he got scraped up during the mission too, he’ll downplay it SO hard. like limping with a bloody nose but “pfft, what, this? nahhh. absolutely fine.” because he thinks if you knew he was hurting too, you’d feel worse

★ he lets you wear his shirts because they’re soft and smell like him and he thinks it’ll help you heal faster if you’re comfy

STANFORD

★ freezes for half a second. because he’s trying to understand how bad is it / how much time do we have / what’s the fastest way to help you. he can't waste a minute

★ gets terrifyingly competent. applies pressure, builds splints from scraps, mutters smth about blood loss and nerve damage. talks you through it with a voice so calm but inside he wants to throw up because of worry. “stay awake for me, darling. keep talking. good. eyes on me. good. you’re doing perfectly” Ford keeps talking clearly so that you keep your focus on him

★ honestly, no matter how hard he tries, i dont think he’d be the perfect calm collected person. i mean sure, if you get hurt, Ford’s first reaction is to jump into doctor-mode. hes not even thinking about it. because what's important is to make sure you're breathing and blinking. but ugh, his eyes are the giveaway. they’re usually so calm, but when it’s you, theyre so wide and scared, full of worry, brows knitted, biting his lip

★ so yeah he tries to be calm but fails. so he snaps at anyone who distracts him. “either help me or get out of my way. let me do my job”

★ gets frustrated if you won’t let him fix you. he needs you to let him help. so hes constantly like “no, no, no, don't you dare pull away from me”

★ once you’re safe, he cant really breathe for a second. i mean, he had just experienced the most terrifying moments of his life, almost losing the person he loved most. so Ford's hands are trembling. he tries to hide it because he thinks he needs to be “the strong one” but if you so much as reach for him he folds into your touch still

★ if it was on anomaly hunting or expedition, he feels guilty for bringing you along. “i should’ve known it was too dangerous. i never should’ve let you come. i was selfish.” he hates himself for it

★ i think later, Ford develops a quiet habit of memorizing your vitals. like, your heartbeat, your breathing when you sleep. all the time, he keeps checking without waking you. just running fingertips lightly over your wrist or brushing his hand near your collarbone. it’s a comfort thing. if he can feel you breathing, he can sleep

★ this cutie builds you ridiculous safety gadgets. “here, this bracelet contains an emergency teleport beacon, a medical scanner and a plasma shield generator. standard fare, really.” it's like wearing an entire fucking sci-fi lab on your wrist. but you wear it anyway because well, you can't say no to him

★ also when it beeps or whatever, Ford panics instantly. no matter how minor

★ might accidentally blurt out love confession while tending you. like patching a cut and muttering “i can’t lose you. i love you. i. . .“ then FREEZES because he didn’t mean to say it out loud yet

★ he’s very doting when you're hurt. he’s the one who makes sure you’re comfortable, brings you books to read, does everything he can to distract you from the pain

★ and if it gets to a point where you’re just in too much pain, Ford’s solution is putting his hands on you, gently massaging while whispering that it will pass soon. i think Ford is more affectionate than usual in these moments. he lets his vulnerability show

★ Ford will get a little obsessive about safety after. “what do you mean you’re going into the woods alone?”

[lydilicious]

The things I never said

Nanami x GN reader

Nanami always made it easy to love him.

It wasn’t the expensive suits or the immaculate manners, though those helped.

It was the way he existed in a world that didn’t deserve him, moving through it with quiet integrity, refusing to bow under the weight of all the things he couldn’t fix. It was the way he carried sorrow like a second skin, dignified and unspoken.

It was the way he smiled — rare, fleeting — when he looked at you.

Or at least, you thought he was looking at you.

You told yourself you could survive like this — on scraps, on maybes. You didn’t need grand declarations or promises. It was enough just to be near him, enough to be his steady, constant presence.

His… friend.

Always his friend.

But you were greedy. You wanted more.

You wanted all of him.

And that was your first mistake.

---

You notice the change before anyone else.

Nanami starts checking his phone during missions. A tiny thing. Almost imperceptible — but he never used to do that. His dedication was rigid, absolute. Until now.

You don't ask.

You don't want to know.

(You already know.)

One evening, while patching up a wound on his arm, your hand lingers too long against his skin. His eyes — always so clear, so unreadable — flick to yours.

And there's something there.

Something heavy.

Your heart stutters with hope. You open your mouth, reckless and terrified.

But before the words can escape, his phone buzzes on the table.

He smiles — soft, almost shy — and says, “Sorry. I have to take this.”

You watch him leave the room, his voice low and tender through the closed door.

He never used that tone with you.

You finish bandaging his arm alone.

---

Her name is Mai.

You learn this by accident. Shoko mentions her in passing — Nanami’s new girlfriend, a civilian, the girl at the bakery he'd always buy you pastries from.

Sweet, kind.

Good for him, Shoko says with a smile that feels like a dagger in your ribs.

After everything he's been through, he deserves someone who makes him happy.

You nod. You smile.

You bleed in silence.

That night, you walk home in the rain without an umbrella, letting it soak through your clothes, your skin, your bones.

Maybe if you get cold enough, numb enough, it’ll drown out the hollow ache in your chest.

It doesn’t.

---

You tell yourself you can be happy for him.

You try.

You listen as he talks about her — little things, casual things. How she likes her coffee, the books she recommends, the way she laughs so hard she snorts.

You laugh along, like it's funny.

Like it doesn't tear you apart.

Every time he says her name, it's another small death.

You become an expert at pretending:

Pretending you don't see the softness in his eyes when he talks about her.

Pretending your hands don't shake when he casually mentions taking her to a quiet little café you used to go to together.

Pretending you're not still stupidly, hopelessly in love with him.

You don’t think he notices.

You don’t think he would care if he did.

---

One night, you find yourself at Nanami’s apartment — a half-hearted excuse about a mission report clutched in your hands.

He invites you in without hesitation.

The place smells different.

It’s subtle — a floral note in the air, delicate and sweet. A woman's touch woven into the fabric of his life.

You sit on the couch while he makes tea, your fingers curling into tight fists against your thighs.

There’s a photograph on the bookshelf.

You can’t help it. You look.

It’s him and Mai. She's tucked against his side, grinning up at him like he hung the stars.

And Nanami — serious, reserved Nanami — is smiling back at her.

A real smile.

One you've never seen before.

Something inside you fractures.

When he returns, handing you a steaming cup, he notices the way you're staring.

For a moment, the air feels heavier. Denser.

"She makes me happy," he says quietly.

You nod, swallowing the shards of your heart.

"I'm glad," you lie.

He sits beside you. Close enough to touch.

Close enough to hurt.

"You're important to me," he says after a moment, his voice low. "You know that, don't you?"

You force yourself to meet his gaze. His sincerity is a knife twisting deeper.

"Of course," you whisper.

But you’re not the one he chose.

You’re just the one he leaned on until he didn’t need you anymore.

---

You drift apart after that.

It's not immediate — Nanami isn't cruel — but the distance grows.

Fewer texts.

Shorter conversations.

Excuses.

He's building a life you don't fit into anymore.

And you — you’re left standing outside, watching through the window, unwanted, unseen.

You wonder if he even notices you fading.

Maybe he does.

Maybe he just doesn't care.

---

You find out about the engagement secondhand.

Gojo bursts into the office, waving a bottle of champagne, grinning like an idiot.

"Our Nanamin’s getting hitched!" he crows.

The room explodes into cheers and congratulations.

You sit frozen, the noise fading into a low, dull roar.

You smile.

You clap.

You die a little more.

Later, after the others have gone, you find yourself alone on the training field, the night pressing cold and heavy around you.

You punch the dummy until your knuckles split, blood smearing across the rough canvas.

It’s not enough.

Nothing will ever be enough.

---

Nanami finds you there.

He approaches quietly, a hesitant shadow against the floodlights.

"You missed the celebration," he says softly.

You wipe your bloody hand on your pants, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Wasn't in the mood," you mutter.

A beat of silence.

Then — "I'm sorry."

You bark out a laugh, bitter and broken.

"What are you sorry for, Nanami? Falling in love? Being happy? None of that’s a crime."

"I didn't mean to hurt you," he says.

You finally look at him.

And God, it’s worse.

Because he looks guilty.

Because he knows.

"Don't flatter yourself," you say. Your voice shakes. "Not everything is about you."

He flinches.

Good.

Let him hurt a little. Let him taste the smallest fraction of the agony he left you drowning in.

"You should go," you whisper.

For a long moment, he just stands there, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

Then he nods.

"I wish..." he begins, then stops. Shakes his head.

"Forget it."

You watch him walk away, taking the last shattered pieces of you with him.

---

You don't attend the wedding.

You send a gift — impersonal, safe — and a note scribbled with shaky hands: Wishing you happiness.

You mean it.

You hate yourself for meaning it.

Because at the end of everything — the hollow nights, the splintered dreams, the years of unspoken love — you never wanted anything but for him to be happy.

Even if it killed you.

Especially if it killed you.

---

Sometimes, in the dead hours of the night, you wonder:

If you had told him — if you had reached out, been brave — would it have changed anything?

Would he have chosen you?

Or were you always destined to be the almost, the could-have-been, the not-quite-enough?

You’ll never know.

And maybe that’s the cruelest part.

Because some loves aren’t meant to be requited.

Some loves are just meant to break you.

---

[Word count: ~2140]

---

[hyuckwrlds]

loser

wc: <600 i don't wanna lose ya (read part one here)

You grip onto the fabric of Mark’s shirt while he struggles to pull you up the stairs, fingertips burning against the curve of your waist. 

It’s almost embarrassing how you managed to end up like this—drunk and stumbling over your own two feet despite your promises to stay sober tonight. You want nothing more than to free yourself from his hold but it’s easier said than done when your balance flies out the window every time you try to stand on your own. 

Falling back into the warmth of your old best friend, it feels like a losing game either way.

“Mark,” you huff, turning around to pad at your bag hanging off his shoulder. “My keys.”

You’re not entirely sure how he became the one to take you home tonight. As far as you know, he shouldn’t even be here. He should be packing his bags, preparing for his flight back across the ocean tomorrow morning to meet his new girlfriend at some invite-only music show. At least, that’s what you heard him tell Haechan earlier.

Instead, Mark’s reaching into the inner left pocket of your bag and taking out the keys to unlock your apartment door. He doesn’t have to ask to know where they are; you’ve always been a creature of habit.

A strange mix of guilt and pride swirls in your chest. You know he should be tending to his other commitments, the ones that don’t involve ungracefully hauling you through your doorway but here he is, setting you on your couch with a certain degree of gentleness that makes your stomach flip. 

“You okay?” you hear him wonder, crouching down in front of you. “Why’d you drink so much?”

Face smushed into the familiar bunny pillow you stole from Jaemin the other day, you open your eyes to look at Mark. His expression is soft, patient. Just how he’s always been.

“I don’t know,” you murmur but he remains unconvinced.

You should’ve known he’d see through it anyway. In your current state, you know you couldn’t lie to him to save your life.

So, you take the bite. “Did you mean it?”

It takes him a second. “Mean what?”

“What you said…during the game. When it was your turn with Jaemin.”

Your words hang in the air, heavy in the silence of your living room. For a moment, all you hear is the faint hum of your refrigerator and the whizz of a car speeding down the street outside. You almost regret asking and half-consider scrapping the conversation altogether when he responds.

“Yeah,” he says. “I meant it.”

You pause. It’s a strange sort of revelation, sending a wave of warmth through your body. You consider the notion that maybe he loved you just as much as you’ve always loved him. 

“So…you loved me?”

He takes a breath, swallowing before giving you a small shake of his head.

“Love,” he corrects. “I think a part of me always will.”

There’s no hint of pretense in his gaze. Just him, the nervous bite of his lip, and the tender way he continues to hold your gaze despite it all.

It makes you wonder.

“Mark?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you stay with me tonight?”

If you had chosen to be selfish back then, would he have stayed?

And even with the unpacked bag sitting in the room of his childhood home right now and his flight scheduled to leave in just a few hours, he nods, wholeheartedly.

“Yeah.”

[jollmaster]

Hiya!! Really love how much effort you put into your au, it's really interesting and I love all the characters designs! I have a few questions

1. Where did Jan (Nifty's husband) end up after death and did he and Nifty end up reuniting? Same goes for Alastor's parents

2. How did Charlie end up meeting the others in her gang (besides Al)?

3. What are the main eight's (Charlie's gang) biggest regrets?

4. Have you ever thought of making a webtoon or webcomic of Asileverse?

5. What are your pronouns?

OMG I'M SO HAPPY TO HEAR THAT YOU LOVE THIS AU with all my thoughts and redesigns ❤️ and ofc here are the answers!

Jan, Niffty's husband, and Alastor's parents

unfortunately, Jan ended up in Sheol, on the Sloth swamps, and at the currend moment he's already on 5th stage of decay (practically dead); his little wife Niffty who was killed only a week after his death is more vital, glory to her!

Matilda and Roy are both living in Eden, and both are in permanent facepalm because of son's antics, and the only way they can communicate is to send messages through Charlie (sometimes that's a motherly slap)

I have a headcanon that in an alternative scenario Matilda would have become an exorcist, gone to the underworld during Extermination and given Alastor a REALLY good beating :D

how did Charlie meet the gang?

in brief it looks like this

in more details:

Vega, after being banished from Eden, lived for several years in Zepar's castle (he gives shelter to sinners when sandstorm seasons start on the 2nd circle), but decided to help Charlie when heard about her endeavors with shelter and help

Angel Dust escaped from Valentino, for whom he worked mostly as a guard for prostitutes (and managed to die a couple of times from painful shock after punishments), and was looking for a place to hide; ofc Angel didn't tell asile's landlady about this right away, and as a result almost EVERYONE got in trouble!

Niffty had been scavenging on the banks of Phlegethon for many decades, but seven years before the main events Alastor found her, washed up and got her a job as a maid in Cannibal town; for the last year and a half Niffty has been working at Rosie's manor, who took care of her, so girl has VERY useful acquaintances

Husk doesn't really want to tell everyone that he's a former overlord, and at first he just slept in the attic, where he secretly crawled in (Niffty found him there and was excited); Alastor, to Husk's great displeasure, recognized him, and they agreed over a game of cards that Husk would remain just a grumpy cat for visitors

not that Cherri Bomb was interested in the rescue, at least at first time, but she worried about Angel (Angel had saved her in first year in the underworld and taught her everything she needed to know), visited bro and always stayed with all of them during the Exterminations

Charlie's gang relations with sir Pentious over the years ranged from hostile to neutral (he had ambitions and guns), but after couple of years Pentious himself became interested in redemption and came to them voluntarily, out of a desire to rethink everything (+ because of one person who loved powder and guns as much as he loved :D)

Charlie's gang biggest regrets

in fact, the only one in Charlie's gang who drowns himself in his own regrets is Angel Dust with his survivor's guilt complex: his father and brother preferred to die at Adam's hand while he chickened out

in general, sinners mostly let go of "mortal" regrets: Husk once regretted forgetting beloved wife and all his six children, Alastor felt a little guilty about letting mom go to a Charleston hospital during the spanish flu epidemic (mom caught the flu and died in his arms; Alastor cremated her body and moved it to the family crypt in New Orleans a year later), but now they're just living their second lives

Charlie regrets not getting enough family warmth (more precisely, Charlie didn't get family warmth in traditional format, with mother, father and siblings; that's one of the reasons why she had children on her own and feels a bit jealous to sinners who had good family relations), Vega sometimes thinks she should have kept in touch with her lover in Eden after all, and misses sisters in arms

so most of their current worries are related to the current state of affairs (as we know, all is complicated)

webtoon/webcomic

all what I can say is MAYBE :D I hope to do something if I have enough time and desire!

pronouns

she/her, I'm just a woman ❤ but I don't pay much attention to this, for me it's not something important, so if someone writes they/them by default, I won't be offended

AND HUG YOU!

[lightning-jay]

Found and Forgotten / Kid among Beast of Metal and Malice

[whysamwhy123]

Re-watching the one time Ricky and Christian teamed and lamenting about What Could Have Been.

[otasnox]

tell her i was the one who did it / he said he'll always love you (may 3rd, 2024)

cover art by arok318

[todayisafridaynight]

why does the new tumblr notif ui got balls

[tonycries]

Sweetener - C.K.

Synopsis. You, hit by your heat cycle and accidentally calling your best friend over in a daze. Choso Kamo, your utterly sweet best friend - and totally not an aIpha, right? Right?

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! oméga! reader, alpha! Choso, heats, best-friends-to-lovers, pining, creampíes, bréeding, Choso goes FÉRAL, OMÉGAVERSE AU, overstím, knots, MARATHONS, making him cúm blanks, MATÍNG BÍTES, cúmplay, first times (Choso), pússydrúnk Choso, oraI (fem), proposals, p talking, pet names, swéaring. 

Word count. 8.1k

A/N. Hope you have a lovely week <3

“Open up f’me, beautiful.”

Choso Kamo was approximately four seconds away from kicking down your front door and tearing your apartment down in search of you. Or, at least, he would be if he didn’t know how much you’d huff at him afterwards.

Because it’s not everyday that his precious best friend wakes him up at 3AM with a hazy, six-second call. Mumbling nothing but an adorably sleepy “Cho— come over?” 

So what if Choso had instantly thrown on the first t-shirt he saw and broken about seven traffic violations on his motorbike here? 

“Come on, come on-” he’s hissing underneath his breath. Weight shuffling nervously between his two feet, he raps on your door once more. Twice. Thrice. “D-don’t make me use that spare key again.”

It was a half-threat - really, it was. 

But the louder your answering silence grew, the tighter his fingers curled around his own metallic key. Breathing out a low, “I’m- I’m coming in.” And slowly - ever-so-slowly - he’s cracking your door just an inch open before-

Oh. 

Oh. 

It hits Choso like a wave - hard enough to knock him down onto his knees. 

“What-” he’s gasping, heaving. Words tumbling out drunkenly in rasping ahs! that he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t even register the bright, blossoming pain sweeping his knees with the way his lungs felt like they were scorching - and Choso just couldn’t get enough. 

It wasn’t a new candle of yours, and Choso already memorized every one of your perfumes for this to be one. This was just so…carnally sweet. 

He was drinking in every drop, every ounce, every waft of that candied air inside your cozy apartment like he couldn’t breathe if it wasn’t that.

And something in the sugary scent makes Choso twitch. 

Oh, shit. 

Hastily swiping away a translucent mess of drool that’d somehow made its home by the rosy corner of his mouth, he’s straining out once more. For his sanity, more than anything. “Beautiful? Anyone home?”

Still no answer. 

Absolutely nothing. 

It takes him a few more sloppy seconds swimming his melty mind to even consider stumbling back up onto his two unsteady feet. Blinking away the bleary film over his gaze, Choso slams! your door shut with the back of his foot - cutting off the heady perfume from emanating into the corridor. 

Noise complaints from your neighbors be damned - he’ll apologize to them all personally later. 

But right now, something about the way that mysterious essence was all his, his, his scratched at such a dangerously primal itch in his brain. 

Shit- what was he even thinking?

Choso was here for you and only you. 

He’s running a jittery few digits through the sweat-dampened valleys of his hair, tugging in a stinging little pull to try and snap some sense back into him. Clearing the strangled mess in his throat, Choso smacks! his palms against his burning cheeks before calling out once more, “I’ll be coming in–”

Because it’s not as if Choso’s never been in here before - he has. Many, many times, in fact. And during every one of those hangouts you’d made it a point to pout about how he should really “let loose” and treat this home as if it was his own, too. 

Honestly, it was hard to feel anything but comfortable after knowing each other for so long - even despite those embarrassing, mushy feelings that he always drowned in around you. 

But that was a conversation for another time. 

And right now, Choso couldn’t even dream of any “comfort” when every step deeper into the saturated cloud of scent made Choso gulp. Every blink had his eyes watering even more - and his pants- fuck- Choso’s biting down on his rawly worried lower lip, eyes flickering anywhere but where he could feel his achy cock stirring. 

Something about this smell was so…hypnotic. 

And if he didn’t know any better then he’d have sworn he was practically floating down that familiar pathway to your bedroom. Feet padding down anxiously along the mahogany-covered floors, it was becoming so much harder and harder to breathe in the fragrant air without getting fucking addicted.  

Or, Choso swallows, one arm balanced on the wall, the other feeling for his thundering pulse. He probably already was. 

But what if you were sick? What if you needed help? Fuck, if he didn’t live every waking moment dancing along to your heartbeat.

That is, when he hears it. That.

Filtering from inside your bedroom…a moan. ”Ch-Choso–”

.

.

.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

You didn’t know what you were thinking, forgetting to take your monthly dosage of suppressants - you’d blame it on all the time you’d been spending studying for finals with Choso lately, but you’d never put the fault on your sweet best friend like that.

After all, he was a fellow omega like you at the end of the day. Right? 

“Fuck” You’re scrambling to clasp onto a sodden sweatshirt of his on your bed, nose burying into the slightly sunny vanilla scent. You knew it was wrong to think about him this way, you knew it was made even worse considering his second gender. But- but fuck, if he didn’t have your hands slipping and sliding guiltily down towards the slick-lathered spot between your legs. Concentrated puffs of heat stifling from between your lips, “Ch-Choso–”

Honestly, you wanted him so badly you could reach over for your phone and call-

No, no, no, no - your fatigued eyes flick over to the winking clock by your bedside. 3:26AM.

You couldn’t call him over for help now. Choso was so sweet that he’d probably rush over in his pajamas and rack up a fair few tickets on his motorbike. 

Which was why you preferred to spend your heats without his help - it had been that way since you’d both presented back in high school. 

You’d met Choso after your family had moved to the cutest little suburb in Tokyo, stumbling across the tiny boy-next-door with wide honeypool eyes and a chubby hand that waved shyly your way. Even at the wise old age of eight, you remember thinking how he was so pretty. 

Pretty enough that something your health teacher had taught in your last school clanged throughout your mind - this boy was probably an ah…what was the word? Omega. 

A quiet, comfortable understanding - and it wasn’t something that the two of you never quite had to talk about too in-depth. At least, outside of sneaking the answers to pop quizzes on secondary genders, and giggling when another classmate sauntered to school with a garish bitemark on their neck. 

But, often, you wondered whether you’d ever see Choso with that type of mark. 

He never looked at another alpha - not even another omega, or beta, for that matter. You knew that society was stepping towards a more accepting environment for rather “unconventional” pairings - but Choso Kamo seemed well and firmly intent on rejecting every single one of them. 

Instead, staying by your side. Unpaired. 

Even when he followed you all the way to university - two peas in a pod, so tightly intertwined that most wondered whether you two were mated for life. And he never bothered to disagree - but then again, neither did you.

Even when the years treated him well and he grew so tall, so unfairly attractive. All prettily timid smiles, glinting piercings marrying his ears, and dark, droopy eyes tinged with the slightest kiss of dark eyeliner. Rivalling even the most cocky alphas on your entire campus with his sheer stature and ambience. 

Like he was right now. 

Towering at the very edge of your unlatched bedroom door. 

And only one word registers in your mind - alpha. 

Choso - a Choso that was so utterly real and in the flesh - jumps once those startled syllables spill from your mouth. 

Fuck, you didn’t even realize you said that out loud. 

Not until he’s slamming! one massively spayed-out palm by the side of your doorframe. Shattered pieces of wood crumbling beneath him, you’re unabashedly ogling the flex of his curvaceous biceps. Another hand covering the lower half of his handsome face, Choso rasps. He whines, “You called, m-my omega?”

Oh.

Your entire shivering body bolts upright, like you were being electrified with a thousand voltages of bliss that make your drooling cunt gush. Treacly wafts of pheromones clouding out from you all over again - and the look on Choso’s face is just drunk.

Thick lids so heavy that they were practically falling half-closed, it’s as if his entire body was flushed a prespired red. Lips all ruddied and laminated thinly with spit, his teeth were drawn back into such a wild snarl. 

Like he was about to tear something into bits and it might be you.

So…pretty. 

It almost hurts you to dart your eyes away in an urgent glance at your suspiciously open call log - did you…really call him in your haze? Fuck. 

“Y-you’re-” You swallow a few times - and even then, the words don’t come to you. They can’t. Too stuck on what a delicacy your best friend looked all slumped over by your doorway like he was begging for you. Like he’d crawled all his way to you and would do it all over again. “You’re an alpha, Cho?”

As if you had any doubt now. You could smell the sheer power on him, the thrumming strength threatening to rip through that clingy white undershirt of his. So transparently thin that you could still count every ridge of his washboard abs. And his velvety black boxers hung low-

“Shit-” he gulps. “Yes- fuck! Y-you’re an omega?” 

You can only nod. Brows raising when Choso plants another slam right onto your doorframe, indenting all slender lanes of his digits onto it this time. “And is that…mine?”

With a sudden inhalation, you’re snatching behind that sweatshirt of Choso’s that you’d still been holding. Heart thumping - but there was nothing more to say. What could you say?

Turns out, Choso is the first to break. “L-Let me prove it.”

You’re blinking, squeezing your thighs together at the bittersweet throb. You didn’t know what had your honeyed head reeling more - the sudden reveal of Choso’s secondary gender, or his answer. His sheer need. “Prove it?”

Choso’s head hangs low, chestnut bangs covering his greedy gaze, but you could tell that he was looking at you. Really, really looking at you. 

Words dripping with something you’d never heard of before. Hoarse. Tight. “Can I…can I come in, beautiful?”

You know you should say no to letting him inside your nest - you know it. 

But oh, how it looked like it was taking him every shred of will to keep standing there. To not fucking collapse at the way your gooey pheromones have him spellbound. And he likely would have had it not been for your small, trembling answer, “Yes.”

Choso whimpers - if there was ever a singular moment that would have him crawling back from the afterlife just to re-experience all over again, then it would be this. 

When he feels something in the back of his mind switch.

Senses sharpening almost painfully with one step inside your humid bedroom. Two. 

Until Choso’s stalking so languidly towards you like a predator cornering his prey, foot by foot. He takes his dreamy time prowling towards you - all the way up until your flushed best friend is looming across the foot of the bed.

There’s something vicious in his eyes. Something that has him salivating, “Can- can I?”

You’re breathing out, “Y-yes.”

Slow, sultry fingers unfurl out to draw a steady line along your ankle - he walks. Fingers blazing up your twitchy thighs, up your drenched excuse of shorts, up, up, up to smear that delirious line of your dribble. 

“T-tell me what you want, beautiful.” He pecks an innocent kiss on your forehead, then another to your throat - heaving in your perfumed air. “Anything- I’ll give ya hah- anything.”

His words are low. Hot against your face. 

And just about the only thing you can do is slither your unsteady hands down to toy with the hem of your pants. A sight that makes Choso swallow thickly with a rasping grunt. 

“I want you to…” you’re trailing off. Fingers dipping down to where you haven’t been able to satisfy for hours now. Your inner omega yelling - screaming that nothing was enough, but he might just be. “-touch me here, Cho.”

SWAT!

Instantly, you’re letting off a saccharine mewl at the way your hand is being oh-so-rudely thwacked away by one of Choso’s own. The slight sting throbbing - but not as much as your poor cunt is when meeting his digits. 

Sliding just between your cottony shorts- oh? Choso’s heart stutters. No panties? You really are going to be the death of him. He’s lingering a dewy stroke down your teary slit, honeying his ringed fingers in all your slick juices. 

For a second - just a second.

Lightning-fast, Choso’s trailing away with a slew of spatters left behind, and it makes his skin feel ten times hotter. Ten times dirtier in only the best way.

Even more so when those very digits end up slipping easily into Choso’s mouth. One by one.  Eyes trained darkly on yours, his long pinkish tongue ends up lazily lathering up and down up and down up and down every beaded gleam of your juices.

“Y-you’re so-” your voice cracks embarrassingly - pathetically, in a way that makes every copious ounce of blood in his body sprint south. “-filthy.”

Pulling off with a waterlogged pop! Choso’s tongue probes between his two long fingers, smacking his lips open and shut with the sticky dredges. And you swear you catch a whiff of smugness in his scent. Yet, he’s blushing, “All for you- only for you, my girl.”

And you can’t even complain - you can’t even tease him about the way that just another mere touch up against your feverish pussypound has Choso gasping. Eyes crinkling with something like delight and sheer awe.

Because he’s crashing his mouth into yours, suckling on your lips like his favorite berry lolly-

“Sh-shit-” Choso’s rich tone cracks into shattering lilts, and you can hear him laugh against your lips. Laugh. Humorless and crazed - pure desperation bleeding out with every swash of his intoxicating vanilla scent. “Beautiful— you taste even sweeter than in my ngh- dreams, y’know that?”

No, you didn’t - you didn’t even know that Choso dreamed of you in the first place. 

And you don’t get to pay it any mind because before you know it, the swirling edge of his rounded fingertips tuck just past where your puffy folds were pursing in a ready pucker. Cold metal rings making you gasp.

And Choso’s greedily snuffing out the sound with a sinking bite of his sharpened canines into your wobbly bottom lip. Drinking in every noise from his pretty girl. His pretty girl. 

Cratering dimples notching prettily at the ends of his lipbite, he’s practically begging them out with every slow gyration of his fingertips around and around your peaked clit. Tracing over every tiny ridge and sensitive bundle like he was trying to fucking memorize it. “H-has any other- fuck-” Ringing out a thundering growl at the back of his throat that makes your skin coat in tiny goosebumps. “-has any- other- made you feel this good?”

No no no - your inner omega purrs, and you can practically feel yourself groaning lowly at the back of your throat when you pull away. 

Trying - failing, when Choso’s chasing your kiss-bitten lips like he was hooked. Slurring after the syrupy strings of spit that smear the traces of your mouth, he’s meshing his lips in a dramatic smooch. Again. And again. And again and again-

“L-look how wet ya are…” And it wasn’t even a command, but you can’t help lolling your head down to blink at the way his pale wrist was glistening with all your laminated juices. Musing, “Gonna make ya feel so fuckin’ good. So good.”

Two deft fingers pinch your clit. Hard.

“Ah! N-no!” Your spine bends into such a pretty curve off the bed, perfectly in position for Choso to slide his massive palm underneath and massage away your tensely knotted back. Your fingers are trekking up the clamoring hike onto his broad deltoids to feel the droolworthy jolt of his back muscles. Babbling belatedly, “N-no other alpha has made me feel s-so…”

So…what?

Hypnotized? Addicted? Gone?  

But whatever it was, the sight of you being ruined into a few shattered jumbles of limbs is enough to make Choso’s alpha hum. 

Whispering out, “Can I…” And with a steep inhale of the thick surrounding air, he’s gulping. “C-can I-”

Before you’re gracing him with an answer, you’re helping inch those sleep shorts down. Snailing an almost-blasphemous slicked coat that seeps into your skin. He’s twirling his thumb over the remaining excess left behind - not wasting a single drop. 

And it takes only one saturated hit from where your pheromones were the most concentrated - only one shy peak down at your drooling cunt - before Choso can feel his mind shattering. Gasping. 

The top half of his body all but collapsing on top of yours.

It’s not even on purpose the way he flinches at the thick curve of your thumb floating upwards to tenderly glide away the swab of drool that was flooding Choso’s mouth right now. 

His neat brows quirking upwards, heaving chest choppy - you’re so lustily trapped against the bumped-up planes of his pecs. Feeling the rumble of his heated words, “I-I’ve never…” 

Sounding so utterly worn-out already, Choso’s planting a few firm pecks at the corner of your chin. He’d meant for it to reach your lips - but he couldn’t. Too in a trance to even think about it. And as if to make up for it, he’s kissing your neck, the valley of your thighs, your tummy. Every and any inch he hasn’t been blessed with reaching for the past few years. 

Shuffling all the way until he was practically lips to lips with your sloshing pussy, eyeing down directly at the way your sloppy entrance was welcoming him with another fresh bout of clingy slick. Choso heaves in a long breath.

“Been waitin’ a looong time f’you, y’know? Can I make a mess?” Choso’s whining sweetly, greedy gaze still trained firmly downwards. Tenderly rubbing over your glossed-up folds, “Can I m-make you break?” And those grasping begs of his are barely even audible over the sheer squelching resonating from your slobbery pussy. Your jaw falls slack at how they only make Choso nod. “Y-you’re right- s-so right–”

Talking. And before you know it, the filthiest French kiss is being placed right on your cunt. 

He’s not even hesitating, not even easing you into it - because Choso Kamo has waited so long for this. And he was going to have his fill.

“This is what y-you taste like- this good?” Dragging the very pointed tip of his pretty button nose down your plump clit, he’s smushing it in place with a firm kiss at the very edge of your snug hole. “Th-think this cute cunt can take my fuckin’ cock, beautiful?”

So fucking impatient. 

You’re tangling one set of fingers into the stray strands of his hair, bucking up to drag a slow glide down the lower half of his pretty face. 

And, usually, with an alpha you could be expected to be snapped at with a snarling command. An instruction to just stay put. 

But Choso’s only letting his sharp jaw comfy against the silken sheets, head nuzzling drunkenly into your thighs when you’re pushing and pulling him as you please. Leveraging the vice-like grasp on his scalp to drive steady grinds just the way you like it. 

Whining, “Need you so bad, baby–” 

“Yeah- yeah, use me-” Choso snickers around a teasing bite against the fattened edge of one of your pussy lips. Sucking. “R-reach your pretty high on my face, omega- need you to cum all over me till I-I’m dripping.”

Fuck.

Was this really your nervous, sweet best friend? His words were so dirty, as if he didn’t even realize he was saying them. And they almost make you embarrassed. Shying way just an inch-

“Oh- no. No no no-”  His words come buzzing around your clit, and with a final bite of his elongated canines, Choso’s frantic. He’s scrambling. He’s grasping his powerful arms to loop your thighs and dragging you to him like some ragdoll down the protestingly creaky bed. “S’gonna go to waste- can’t- can’t let it.”

And it’s only about then that you’re dredging up the courage to angle your head further downwards - immediately hit with the sinful sight of Choso in heaven between your limp legs. 

His hair a disheveled curtain, eyes narrowed and smudged with eyeliner. Damply bleeding down onto the regal apples of his high cheekbones at the way your meady slick was reaching his blushing cheeks. It masks his coral pink lips, his jaw, his fucking chin. 

So sopping wet that it’s forming a little puddle down below him that Choso could never even imagine being disgusted by. No, in fact, he was disappointed with himself for not lapping it up even sooner. 

Pumpish lips jutting out in a pout, Choso’s pushing away the hair from his eyes sexily. “Wh-why are you runnin’ away- don’t run away, my girl.”

With a slight giggle, you’re veering your scent to tinge with something comforting. And oh, does it do the trick - because Choso’s eyes swoop downwards drunkenly. Almost closed, almost ruined, he’s huffing out a drawled-out mantra of your name, “Lock it.”

“Wh-what?” You’re choking out.

Soft palms massage gently down your legs, wrapping them around the back of his head. “Lock it.”

Oh.

That was a command, and it has your body pulling taut. Every sensory spot all down your skin screaming to obey - yet, this is something you would have done anyway. Ankles tying together, it’s jostling Choso’s hotly open mouth against your pussy so deeply that you wonder whether he doesn’t have to breathe. 

Whether he doesn’t even want to. 

Because your dear best friend looks so satisfied to die right in the heaven between your legs right now. And he would go such an utterly happy man, too. 

Rosy red lips rubbing rawly against your clit, you’re left a puddle of a needy mess when the roughened tastebuds of his tongue swirl in meticulous little circles. Cheeks hollowing as he sucks, your whines can’t even be heard over the most oozy squelches.

“Heheh- she’s talkin’ back ta me-” Choso’s sputtering out peck after peck. In awe. “She’s talking. Th-think she wants ngh- more.”

More. 

More, more, more. 

Choso’s beginning to think that your dripping pussy’s speaking for himself with the way that’s exactly what he wants right now. Teasing the mushy outer lips of your puckered hole with his fat fingerpads, before bullying in. Inside. 

You’re taking him so well - hips careening even further downwards when he’s feeding your greedy cunt with every long inch of his digits. Slow enough that you could count it - just about six, ringed inches all the way to his knuckles. 

Shit- it’s so hot inside, as if your pretty pussy was practically melting around him. Molding to his every shape as Choso’s driveling swirling around in rummaging little stripes down your gummy walls. Slow. Slick. 

Slender cylindrical intrusions that bump up deftly against your battered g-spots. The chilling stretch of his banded metal rings was too much. Your eager cunt is splattering out a pornographic little gush of your sweet, sweet juices all over again at the way he’s teasingly fondling over that magical spot. 

“J-jus’ a little higher, baby–” you’re spewing out. Deprived. 

And oh, Choso’s darkened eyes are practically lighting up. He doesn’t pull away from your bruised clit to answer - not even to breathe before vibrating out a keening, “Here?”

So desperate. 

Even needier than you. 

You’re blinking through large, globular tears that occupy the space behind your lids. Nodding, “A little more- jus- oh!”   

And Choso didn’t need to hear it from your lips. Hell, he didn’t even need to hear it from the way your snug channel was all but milking his fingers dry. Clinging on in a soppy kiss when he’s probing into your g-spot harder. Meaner. Because the way your intoxicating scent changes - concentrating ever-so-slightly makes Choso realize that you’re cumming before even you register it.

Slamming headfirst into your high, you’re plowing out a belated cry of “I- fuck- m’cumming, Cho. M’cumming, m’cumming-”

Sparks of white splinter your vision, and your knees find themselves just wrenching free from the lecherous comforts of the bed - but Choso won’t let you escape so easily. 

No. 

Barely batting an eye, he’s straining his biceps deadlocked around your legs. Pinning you to the bed until you could barely squirm, barely do anything but take his punishing little clashes against your g-spot head-on. Bumping in. Over and over. 

Choso suckles on your clit like his favorite little gummy, stretching and nibbling until you see stars with your orgasm. 

“Don’t run away-” he’s puffing out into your cunt, the very idea of parting with drizzling pussy making him yelp out a pained grunt. “P-please don’t run away- I promised to make a mess. O-one more f’me, beautiful?”

You’re just molten at his touch. Ravenous and overwhelmingly greedy for you as much as you were for him. Something carnal inside you screaming for more-

“H-hear her?” His eyes are drifting closed at the pulpy little noises your cunt mashes on. Dangling ear piercings twinkling when he’s leering even closer to hear. “Tellin’ me she’s gonna give her- hngh- alpha one more.” Fuck, Choso’s features decorate with the most blazing blush at his own words. How embarrassing. “Wontcha use my mouth all over again? I didn’t get fuuuuck- messy ‘nough last time…”

And as if to prove his point, Choso traces a slow glide of his worked tongue across the sloppily wet coating that drips down his lips. Just for a second.

Your veins bubble sensitively with need at the broken whine sounding from the back of Choso’s throat when you drag him even snugger between your legs. Puffs of leaky pheromones driving the two of you wild, making your hips stutter out a slurring pace up and down his face. 

“Th-this pussy is all f’me- isn’t it, my girl? S’all f’me?”

Even sloppier once you battle out a nod.  

Your cunt is extra slobbery because of your heat anyways, but Choso’s making such a mess on purpose. 

Eyes running away to the back of his head, tongue lolling out even messier. He’s planting such dousing draws of saliva, lathering your sweet spots mercilessly. And his fingers- oh, his fingers were relentless. Shovelling up in solid, wet nudges until you’re able to feel every circular indent of his digits on your g-spot. 

Every run of his manicured nails across where you’re sure you were beginning to get bruised. And every-so-often whenever his eyes glaze green with raw greed - with slight, stupid jealousy over his fingers - you’d peek at Choso plunging his digits into his mouth and sucking.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

Matching the lecherous sound of your thundering heartbeat, you can feel yourself squeal at the overstimulating touches. Sobbing out the cutest little whines that make Choso chuckle, “Easy– easy there, my girl.” Letting your cunt free with a sodden pwah! only to spit. Once. Twice. A sticky wad of his thick saliva that blusters its way to coat your puffy pussy lips, “You’re cumming again, right? A-all over my face?”

You’re nodding - nodding and nodding so hard, but that wasn’t enough for Choso Kamo. 

He wasn’t satisfied until a slow pull of your clit right from between his pearly whites had you bawling out. The backs of your hands dipping upwards to hide your face - which he quickly, and calculatedly spanks away with his free hand. “M’gonna cum soon- ngh- please- Cho- don’ stop.”

Hah, if this was any other time then Choso might’ve laughed. 

Might’ve teased you until you were begging for him in that cute voice once more. But maybe it’s the way his alpha was clawing at his chest from the insides to give you whatever you want, maybe it was the way seeing you fall apart on your heat like this all over him had his cock twitching-

Because Choso only smiles - drunk. Dazed. “Cum f’me, p-please. Ruin me, ma’am..”

He was ruined alright. 

Absolutely sugar-coated with your overlaying juices - it’s dripping down his bed and disappearing into the now see-through fabric of his undershirt like a badge of honor. A badge to say that he’s made you cum for the second time on his mouth. 

That he’s made you squirt. 

Splattering out all over his face with every slurping taste - and yet, Choso still couldn’t get enough. Sweeping up the milky droplets, Choso’s boring his heady gaze right into your widened eyes when he’s leering his mouth agape to make you spy the way each splash slides down his throat. 

God- you’re seeing white all over again. You’re seeing spots, having you gulp in necessary gasps of the soiled air to once more regain your steady heartpace. 

“Ch-Choso-” you’re struggling, voice brittle and gone. Frantically trying to haul - to force - Choso from his favorite home between your cunt, to stop his greedy tongue. “S’enough- can’t cum anymore can’t- ngh-”

“But, beautiful–”

Shit- it would be so easy to get swept up all over again. Because Choso was parched, and he was still far from having his fill. 

Words tinting with a slightly commanding tone, you’re making something dark and primal rear its head when you manhandle him upwards with one hand in his locks, and another on his undershirt. So heavy but pliant. 

Up, up, up-

“Choso–” you’re mumbling out. And before you know it, Chosos hands had toppled you over into the cushiony mattress, and yours were tracing the edge of his too-tight boxers. Tugging. Needy. “I-I want these- off-”

“Anything.” He’s echoing, like it was all that he could right about now. Dewey brows scrunching up into something of a beg, you’re catching the way his Adam’s apple bobs. Deprived. “Anything f-for you-”

Fuck- in your currently woozy state you’re not sure if Choso removed his pants or if he ripped them off. Stumbling and tripping to let the few scarce tatters droop into the floor in a sullen pile. 

With a gulp, your fingers skitter across the planes of his useless undershirt - letting his pretty, bulging muscles peek out at you from underneath when you slide them off of him. Palms smearing in gluttonous little touches across his push pecs, down his rippling abs, down that lusciously dark happy trail and oh-

“S-something the matter, beautiful?” Choso’s heaving in a struggling gulp at the way your gorgeous eyes widen, maw slacking into a soft oh! Head tilting innocently, “M’your hah- best friend, you can tell me a-anythin’.”

“You’re just so…” Comes the whirling answer, your voice slow and alcoholic. He was getting drunk on your words already. “...big.”

Not only was Choso big - he was massive. 

The fat, rotund circle of his head ruddied a strawberry pink, gradiating all the way down his shaft to meet blend into his creamy base. He was so hard that it looked painful, visibly throb! throb! throbbing, bumpy lightning bolts of his veins hammering up at you cheekily. He was so pretty - thick enough that you’re feeling your cunt clench already. Even the burn of your stare has Choso’s reddish divot weeping out a few ropey spurts of pre. Making you dizzy with the incredible size and that musky vanilla scent of his. 

And was that-

Oh. Fuck.

It was.

Through the honeyed slew of precum pooling at Choso’s thick tip, you’re gasping at the slight wink of something metallic. 

Without thinking - without even breathing - you’re drifting your hand down to thumb those syrupy globules thin. Discovering the absolute treasure chest that was a studded Prince Albert’s piercing right near the weepy edge of Choso’s shaft. 

“I got if for- you- Gotta a-another one, y’know-” His gentle rasp jolts you out of your sinful reverie, engulfing hands guiding your own to wrap around his flushed tip and peek under. Right on the slippery sliver of his slit, “A ngh- matching one. Th-thought you might like it…”

Oh- two. 

And, embarrassingly, you can feel the way your scent turns headier. Hypnotizing. Enough so that Choso can’t help the way he’s hanging by a bare thread, head falling into the crook of your neck to breathe in. “Y-you act so innocent but…” 

“But m’only l-like this for you.” He’s tucking your tender earlobe between his teeth. “P-promise. I haven’t even…”

Ah, a virgin. 

Sweet and absolutely gifted. 

And something about it was so cute the way Choso was acting exactly like it. Every wordless toy of your fingers up and down his sensitive glans, making him snarl a lipbite. Girthy length fucking up in shuddering slams into the cushiony tunnel of your palm. Weightily muscled abs flexing with heat when you’re running a thumb under his head to press down on that silver piercing. 

“S-so tiny- heh- your pretty hands are so tiny takin’ my cock, beautiful.” he’s giggling - giggling. Perspiration-simmered forehead knocking into yours, Choso’s letting his tired head loll there and bore into your eyes. “You needa ngh- fuck! Needa slow down, my girl, m’already so close jus’ from making out with yer sweet c-cunt out.” Already close. Just from eating you out. “Else m’n-not gonna be able to control it-”

“I can handle it–” you’re pouting stubbornly. Soft digits clenching even tighter around his cock, and shit, Choso lets his head fall into the junction between your shoulder and your neck. 

Finding himself growing more needy. More feral. Tight, hot curdling in his stomach building up and up.

“M’serious.” His lilting voice breaks, teeth skimming over the pulpy flesh of your sweetened pheromone glands. Nibbling. His incredibly shaky fingers wrap around your shoulders, “Please- ngh- please m’gonna break ya.”

And it’s like you wanted him to.

Dick twitching at those filthy fingers of yours - the way they only pump him faster. And faster. Tighter around the hefty base, more teasing up the slippery slope of his tip - like you were trying to milk out something delicious. 

And you can already feel the way your mouth lathers with a fresh coating of saliva, face inching closer and closer to the bawling peak of his swollen cock. Wanting oh-so-badly to taste the silver of his Prince Albert’s. 

“But I want you to, Cho.”

SMACK!

You’re left stupidly stunned when Choso’s behemoth palm coils like a tight shackle around your tender throat. Pulling you away from his achy cock in a flash, you’re being thrown around like his own personal ragdoll. 

And Choso snickers at the way you’re bouncing cutely on the plush mattress, legs drooping wider and wider agape with every sleazy second he really can’t help but leer over you. Wrangling those boneless legs of yours over his shoulder with a sharp click of his tongue. 

“I-I already told you, beautiful–” he’s bending down, down down to nose along your sweat-dotted cheeks, your skin stark hot against the icy chain of his silver necklace. Chest grumbling with a slight purr. “M’gonna make such a mess of you- can I?”

And that drunken look in Choso’s eyes made him look like he would absolutely shatter if you let your lips shape into a teasing no right about now. Like those warm, salted tears spattering from the corners of his half-lidded eyes and right onto your cheeks would only hasten. 

“Can I- please, my girl- jus’ wanna-” His lips wobble adorably when his sobbing cock glides a slow line between the mushy lips of your pussy. A graze for a graze of his mouth down your own. “-wanna make you mine.”

And just the tip - just a single fat inch shoved into your gummy hole is all it takes for Choso to whimper. 

You’re brushing over his precious cheek, “Ch-Cho, are you okay?”

And Choso can’t answer - hell, he doesn’t think he could even if he wanted to. Because that gushing little clench of your clingy walls all around his sodden wet tip absolutely ruins him. Delicate rivulets of slobber streaming down the smiling edges of his tongue, he’s puffing out an open-mouthed, “No- fuck- d-do I look okay?”

He didn’t.

He seemed like he was burning up - fucked-out already, practically. Pecs rippling with a bolting flex, muscled body shirking with violent shivers when with a low keen of your name - Choso’s cumming. 

“No-” he’s crying out, head flailing backwards. Just from putting it inside for the first time. “No no no no- m’not s’pposed to- yet-”

But he was. Hips recklessly meandering again and again into yours - slight, tugging grinds of just his thickened tip like Choso was afraid of sinking into your heavenly pussy anymore. Like he knew it would break him even more. 

Have him flooding out voluminous ribbons of thick seed, splattering against your spongy channel, and smearing around in dripping vertical patterns with every one of his animalistic ruts. 

“Give it t’me–” you’re locking your ankles even tighter. Prattling out such filthy nonsense that you’re sure you’d get embarrassed about had you not been in your heat. “I-I need your cum, baby- wan’ it allll inside me-”

“Ngh-” Choso’s letting off a broken sound at the back of his throat, squeezing your own with that one hand of his happily making its home there. Blocking off your airway, your heady pheromones only struggle to waft out even more. Saturating. “D-don’t talk like that- n-not outta ya pussy, beautiful.”

“But I w-ngh! want it-”

He gulps, “A-are you sure?” Because this is his best friend - this is the one person he’d never even dreamt of having because that was too dangerous. Too fanciful. The one person he’d written about in every diary, and gotten teased for it by his family just the same. Perfect. 

Yet, you’re so stubborn when you’re in heat. “Mhm– wan’ you to…breed me.”

And he loved it.

Couldn’t get enough of it - or you. 

Choso’s scrambling up one of his jostling hands to latch your hips into a perfect almost-semicircle. Lower lip worried underneath his canines when he’s wiping his fat thumb over the dewdrops of seed treacling from your soppy slit. 

That digit finds its way rummaging between your lips, “Lock it.”

This time, you don’t need it said twice - you don’t even need it to be a command.

Because Choso’s reigning up his own hand to pin both your ankles behind his head, and you think you’ll forever remember just how hot he looked this way. Biceps bulging with the strain, simmering with a slick sheen of perspiration, and his hips-

Oh, it’s like any and every slip of restraint in Choso’s hulking body snapped. 

Because with a loud, saturated squelch! you’re being filled up to what it feels like your lungs with every solid inch of his engorged girth. Inflating your tender insides, buttering your poor cervix with a thick stream of pre when he’s kissing it with a wet thwack!

“Oh- oh.” Choso’s head pushes into the crook of your neck, into your pillow until you were sure that it was soaked with tears of absolute bliss. “Th-this feels nothing l-like my ngh- hand. S’so much more heavenly-”

Yet, you weren’t in the right state of mind to be paying attention to the utter filth that was spilling from your innocent best friend’s mouth. Breath choking up in a lead ball in your throat, you whisper, “Ch-Cho…s’that your knot?”

Your slicked-up folds puckering up in a wet snog against the overinflated ring ballooning around his thick base. The sheer thumping circumference of it makes you squeeze-

“Y-yes–” he’s humming out. The sodden base of his cock thwack! thwack! thwacking your bruising entrance when he’s rutting in and out. Sloppy. Slow. Still trying not to see stars. “God- s’even softer than I ngh- imagined.”

And soft you were. 

This is what your sweet pussy felt like? This good? This should be fucking illegal, he was babbling out - but wouldn’t realize until much, much later. 

Being spearheaded open with every unapologetic rifle to fill you up, the leftover dredges of Choso’s seed trickle a slippery pathway leading him to ambush your g-spot head on. Stubbing his cool metal piercing into your sweetened bullseyes so hard, you swear you could feel the indenting divot of that sinful Prince Albert’s.

“There?” Mesmerized, his eyes grow wide. “R-right there?”

And he’s hot - so feverish. 

Glissading body on top of yours burning up with radiating heat, fracturing our rationality just as much as the sweet vanilla scent of his pheromones were. That tiny heart friendship charm on his necklace hitting your collarbones in a dirty staccato. 

You can feel yourself start to drool with how stupid Choso’s cock was fucking you, curling a few neat raking lines down his statuesquely muscled back. It makes him just arch his cock even deeper to jostle your snug insides riotously. 

“I-imagined about me a lot?” Ah, you’re finding it in yourself to smirk.

Something that Choso’s jackhammering out in quick, increasingly sloppy juts of his hips. Slathering the entirety of his cock with your slicked juices. 

“O-of course.” He’s shifting his eyes gingerly away from yours with a boyish blush. But now that Choso had started talking, he couldn’t stop. “Always wan’ed to f-fuck you through a rut or h-heat like this- to-” Couldn’t keep from hiking up a flattened foot to angle his pierced cockhead into every untouched inch inside you. The special upright curve of his shaft driving you mad. “-to absolutely ruin you and-” The hand at your legs hover right over where he was plummeting your insides with gluey kisses - your womb. “-and make you mine. Ours.”

Ours. 

God, just the mere act of confessing those embarrassing little words had Choso’s hulking body practically melting into yours. 

It’s like his abs were made of adhesive, massaging up and down your front. Drowning you into the plethora of wrecked sheets and him when he’s collapsing on top of you - but still going. Still placing pound after pound. 

“I-I want that too-” And you think you hear Choso sharply gasp, but you can’t confirm over your popping ears. “Always wanted it- ah- wanted you to fuck a baby into me, Cho.”

SLAM!

The slowly-splintering bedframe creaks when one particularly harsh rut has the headboard slamming into the wall behind. 

And that’s all he needed to hear. 

A baby - he wants a baby. He needs one - and this wasn’t just his alpha talking - and he was going to get it.

All that Choso thinks he ever could hear all through his honeyed mind for the rest of his life. Replaying it over and over in his mind like his favorite catchy tune. 

You don’t miss the way that he looks so in love above you, gaze practically heart-eyed and gone. Choso’s raw, swollen lips meteor shower your face with peck after peck - just in time with the collisions of his rounded tip into your sweet spots. 

“Boy or girl?”

“H-huh?” you’re questioning, barely-lucidly. 

“Boy or girl.”

And after those senseless little answers are falling from your lips, Choso’s brushing a hand over your lower tummy. Pushing. Hard. Until his twitchy knot was covered in buttery residues of cum, “Ah- a-always wan’ed a daughter with ya first. With your c-cute smile and ngh- eyes.”

Huffing out an embarrassed, “Choso.”

And he’s only scooping back in the leaky sediments of seed that he’s responsible for making a mess of. Turning a slow thumb right over your tight ring of muscle, “Gonna have my- ngh- style of course, heh- you’d be the best momma. D-don’t care if you’re my best friend, m’gonna breed ya until you’re overspilling, beautiful.”

You needed it so badly. Your heat turning up a notch until it felt like you were boiling from the inside out, candied scent drifting more. 

He’s giggling out, dark lashes batting without his permission. “M’gonna- ngh- take care of you-”. The hand caressing your elastic entrance flies upwards to get cleaned off by his own tongue - before prying your jaw sagging open to spit. “Goood fuckin’ care. N’ hopefully you’ll end up p-pregnant…hopefully.”

He’s encircling the dip in your waist and dragging you forwards to smack against his washboard abs. Unable to squirm. Unable to run away. “Gonna be the p-prettiest momma- the ngh- most beautiful.” Other hand restricting your throat so cozily that your vision tinges with black, “Gonna be mine.”

And when you’re cumming, it’s with those exact words in mind.

The way your sopping walls were milking him for all he’s worth - so greedily - shoving Choso to tip over the edge, too. 

Choso’s letting his body sexily cave into yours, not breaking even a mere inch apart when he’s got you trapped and overfilled with every dollop of his cum icing your insides. And right now you could already feel the way your scents were mixing, the way Choso turns slightly cross-eyed- 

Before sharply turning to your glands and biting. 

Hard. 

His predatory canines break through your epidermis layer like butter, a crimson lipstain gushing from the wound and staining his lips a handsome rouge. 

And - only belatedly, once your omega’s snapping at you with her teeth bared - do you realize that it’s your turn to do the same. As if you would want any other. 

Locking your jaw to dig into his pale, dampish throat, Choso sucks in his cheek to muffle the slightest whine when you’re wringing him through every speck of bliss he could possibly ever feel in a lifetime. Furious cock stuttering out a few more lazy wisps of cum at the mingling feeling of finally being yours. 

“Not ‘nough-” He’s eyeing the leftover ring of cum painting his knot, “Can I fill ya up m-more? Please? Please- my girl.”

You’re pulling away with a woozy nod to rub your thumb over the dug indents of your teeth, gently soothing slow circles over the feral sting. 

Filling you up over and over with each pound, he’s fucking you into the mattress like he hates you. And he’s fucking you like every shuddering ram had a creamy ounce of cum pouring into your gummy walls. Glueing in wet splats against your g-spot, your cervix, like a second sloppy skin. 

Generous helpings of cum drifting into almost blanks-

“Heh- haaaah- y’know tha’s makin’ me still c-cum, beautiful.” Choso’s leaving sodden kisses on your own mark, your lips. “M’sorry m’sorry I- I can’t stop- I just- can’t.”

And it’s sheer animal nature in you that’s screaming at you that you don’t want him to stop until you’re sure it takes. That’s bending down a hand as much as deftly as possible to wrap around Choso’s slightly softening cock - that only tuts in impatience. 

“Wh-when I said inside-” You’re pumping his soaked base as much as possible, feeling the stiffening twitch at his tip buried inside you. “-I mean- inside-”

It’s like you’re being split-apart - like you couldn’t be any fuller if you tried. 

And, yet, only the very curvaceous top of Choso’s inflated knot had bullied its way in-between your lewdly stretched hole. Gaping a pathway so incredibly girthy that it makes you scrunch your brows, head tumbling backwards. 

“Oh- oh, my greedy, greedy girl.” But Choso doesn’t look one bit admonishing - not one bit. Slithering a hand down to your cunt, he’s steamrolling two thick pads of his fingers. Rubbing up against your squeamish walls, scissoring your tight entrance so amply open. “I can put it…inside. R-really, really inside?”

Oh, Choso doesn’t know what blessings he’s received in his past lives. But absolutely nothing could have prepared him for how swelteringly hot and cushy you were around his fat knot. 

Swallowing up the bulging circlet, plugging up your seeping slit safely so that you’re not spilling a single glutinous splotch of his cum. So that it will take. It’s such a tight fit. Such a burning stretch. You felt so full you could burst with every throb of his swollen knot probing your walls. 

Ah, you look so pretty this way.

And Choso’s half-wishing he had a camera to capture this moment. With his lips pressing a few syrupy kisses along every inch of skin he could reach. Somewhere near your tummy - so full and slightly inflated with the copious amounts of cum that were dumped inside you. 

He’s murmuring something drunken - something you probably weren’t even supposed to hear. But at the curious tilt of your head, your best friend chews over his lips nervously. 

And a giddy smile plasters across your face at the saccharine love in your best friend’s eyes - the way he was probably mulling over asking you out on a date. There was no turning back at this point, and your omega purred in agreement as you got ready to say yes. For him to say a sweetened- 

“Marry me.”

A/N. You show up at the next Itadori family dinner with a ring and Sukuna has an actual heart attack.

Plagiarism not authorized.