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saleeba · 1 year ago

Text

fool ; jude bellingham

summary ♡ betting on the phenomenon of unrequited feelings, you and jude have never dared to make the first move with the other until a reunion forces new questions to be answered.

pairing ♡ jude bellingham x fem!reader

content ♡ 18+, smut, friends to lovers, alcohol consumption, cursing, kissing, both jude & reader are pining idiots, fingering, p in v sex, marking, missionary, unprotected sex (jude pulls out but still pls practise safe sex!!)

a/n ♡ she's baaaack :D but first☝🏽alexa play fool by nct 127 !!!! the lyric "you’re a goddess but i’m a fool, what should i do?" was written for this fic in particular i just know it was :] anyway hehe this fic is based off this request so tysmm to anon for sending such an exciting prompt !! i hope yous enjoy 🫶🏽💗 WAIT P.S this isn’t proofread bc i lowkey am not rocking with it so i didn’t wanna put myself thru having to read it again & again … im sorry for any mistakes :’)

you had just gotten off work to a stream of relentless texts from your best friends’ groupchat — phone pinging off the rails whilst you were on shift, muffled buzzes from your bag making you wonder what on earth was worth blowing up in that whatsapp group on a random friday afternoon.

on the train back home, you tap open the green app, anticipating yourself easily spending the entire journey catching up on the three hundred-plus texts from your closest mates. you decide to start right from the beginning of the influx, thumb scrolling nonstop and eyes blurring from the rapid movement until they focus back on the screen where you stop, finally having reached the destination of the first text that set it all off.

it was from none other than jude bellingham, and you were nearly embarrassed by the way your face instantly lit up upon reading his message. the groupchat’s golden boy had popped up after weeks of minimal contact, asking if he could take everyone for a night out tomorrow to make up for it, stating that he finally has some small gaps of free time between hectic pre-season schedules to allow him to do so.

it honestly warmed your heart that the first thing he wants away from football is to see you all. you’d been a band of good friends since the first year of secondary school, contact not necessarily strained as you all had a lot of love for each other but rather unspokenly reduced after leaving school two years ago and falling into busy university or career ventures.

instead of scrolling through to read and react to the plethora of follow-up texts after his, you ignore them and jump straight to typing your reply to his invitation, casting aside that nagging voice asking you: doesn’t that seem too desperate?

no, right? i’m just accepting his invitation, getting straight to the point, the convo ended half an hour ago anyway. you’re arguing with yourself now, feeling the need to give unnecessary excuses to nonexistent accusations. if you were to be honest with yourself, you were always self-conscious of the way you behaved around jude, even now debating on whether to add your signature heart emoji or if it’d come across as you trying too hard given your feelings for him; albeit them being feelings that no one knows about, not even him. you made sure for it to be that way.

with a mental note to get over yourself, you send an affirmative ‘i’m up for it!’, signature heart included, and quickly shut off your phone. heart beating so rapidly, you scolded yourself for getting so worked up over a mere reply and for definitely not getting over yourself. god knows how you’re going to handle seeing him in person.

a sudden double buzz from your device does nothing to calm you down, instead dampening your hands with sweat when you grab it and see a pair of messages from him.

jude 🌟: heyy i’m so glad you can make it tomorrow :)

jude 🌟: can’t wait to see you!! ❤❤

he had messaged you separately for some reason and he had included two hearts… the overthinking starts for you again, without even beginning to think about what to reply this time, and you question why he couldn’t have just replied to you in the groupchat or why he couldn’t have just left the end of the messages with a ‘x’ like he usually does or why he would even say what he said in the last message. mind frantic and unable to clear itself, you thank yourself for having your read receipts turned off so you can have your mini meltdown without worrying about jude knowing you’d seen his messages multiple minutes ago. god, you were down so bad.

you force yourself to open the messages app and send the most casual reply you can type.

you: can’t wait to see you too! ❤

you try to keep it short, sweet and nonchalant even if your fingers are itching to type more – more about how much you had missed him, more about what he was planning to wear tomorrow night so that maybe you could match your own outfit with him, more about your true, unfiltered feelings for him. it’s pathetic really; you hadn’t seen him in two years and the first thing you wanted to do was throw yourself at him, spilling all the secrets you’d been holding close for so many years. you leave it at that, put your phone on do not disturb mode and head on home, waiting for the long hours of friday evening to pass and saturday night to arrive.

***

and so saturday night rolls around and you just about finish touching up your makeup and smoothing out your dark blue dress before the doorbell rings, and you’re whisked away to the club by a couple of your girlfriends.

as soon as you step your high heels into the building, you’re met with the sight of flowing booze and the noise of noughties r&b beats bouncing around the brightly lit walls. dragged by the hands of your friends, you find yourself standing next to a booth at the back of the club, the rest of the group now welcoming you latecomers with a loud cheer.

“finally, girls. you took your time!” one of your male friends remarks, ushering you all to sit down.

“oh god, what have we missed?” you beam, trying to scan the group amongst the strobing lights to catch a glimpse of the person you were really there for.

“nah, you’re just in time because… first round’s on mister madrid!”

the callout breaks your friend group into a raucous holler as your gaze fixes onto the six foot-one footballer who stands up with an amused grin and a sigh of feigned defeat. your heart quickens and your smile turns into a state of near disbelief over how good jude looks right now – graphic white t-shirt hugging his biceps in all the right places and hanging over a pair of smart-casual black trousers.

“yeah, yeah, anything for my groupies,” he winks at no one in particular but your brain almost convinces you that he was looking at you while doing it. you send a shy smile his way just in case but what he says next has your mouth running dry. “help us out, will ya, y/n?”

you hesitate for a second too long for your liking, stumbling over your words while your friends peer at you. “uh… uh-huh, yeah, of course.” you answer as quick as you can, standing up on your feet slowly as to not trip over your now-shaking legs and send yourself flying into jude, and to avoid embarrassing yourself more than you think you already have.

he responds with a grateful smile and you follow him to the bar where he places an order for a round of drinks and some shots to be delivered to the group by the two of you. there’s an odd unfamiliarity to the silence between you both and you realise that you aren’t normally this quiet around jude, and neither is he around you; you would always joke that he’d be eligible to talk for england if he wasn’t already playing football for them. he’d retort with a comment about how his ears could almost fall off with the amount of chatting you do, and you’d dryly reply with a ‘well, they’re too big for your head anyway. look at the size of them!’ the pair of you were always as thick as thieves in the eyes of everyone else. which is why you didn’t expect it to be like this, especially after two years of not seeing each other – there was so much you wanted to catch up on from his world and so much you wanted to share from yours. you decidedly gain some courage and take the initiative to spark some conversation, get something going at least.

“soo, how have you been, then?” you’re both facing the bar, your head barely tilting in jude’s direction to indicate that yes, it is him that you’re talking to and not some random like he assumes you are with the way you’re positioned away from him, eyes just about turning to steal a glance of his figure but not to hold eye contact. “how’s la vida española?”

jude finds amusement in your sudden flaunt of the spanish language, a smile breaking out on his face, unseen to you since he’s still facing the same direction that you are, preoccupying his eyes with the myriad of bottles on the shelves while his mind searches for an apt reply.

“yeah, it’s been great, i think i wanna stay there forever,” jude laughs, his fingers tapping on the black surface of the bar. you can’t help the selfish feeling of your heart dropping at his confession. “i miss you, though, y’know… a lot.”

this one confession forces your whole body to turn itself towards him, eyes now chasing after his to seek some form of sincerity, to see if he was just messing about or if he really meant what he just said. he shifts his head to face you now, a bashful look painted onto his features. the expectant silence says it all really; of course i mean it.

you gulp and decide to break the quietness with a sarcastic, jesting “ugh…”, jude’s face dropping at what he thinks is genuine disgust from you. you realise your attempt to denounce the awkwardness has backfired.

“oh my god, you dickhead, i’m joking,” how is it that mere moments ago you were shaking at the sheer real-life presence of him but now you’d transformed into having this confident playfulness? and all of it without a drop of alcohol in your system as well – you’re quietly proud of yourself. “i missed you too, jude… a lot.” you coyly repeat his words.

upon your turn of the confession, the bartender sets down your drink orders and the two of you wordlessly carry the trays over to where your friends are situated, the silence way more comfortable now that you’re both basking in assurance, unbeknown to the other that your hearts were racing at a hundred miles per hour.

***

not even two hours and an innumerable amount of shots later, you’re all a drunken mess; definitely not a surprise to a single one of you. what is a surprise is the way you’re strewn across jude, right leg wrapped around his left, head on his chest, swirling and sipping from what’s clearly an empty glass to any sober, sane person. you grumble and mutter a complaint about the lack of liquor in the booth, taking it upon yourself to head to the bar and order another round for everyone.

“i’ll come with you,” jude announces over the pounding of the music, standing up so quickly that his next five steps are staggered and he has to cling onto your arm to steady himself. “i’m fine, i’m okay.” he assures nobody that asked.

the two of you stumble your way into the path of the bar, determined to drink until the sun comes up and forget every strand of stress until the hangovers come knocking. jude’s soft grip on your arm has you being led in the opposite direction all of a sudden, though.

“uhm, where are we going?” you question, head still turned to where the bar is located, about to ask him if he was so hammered he couldn’t walk in a simple straight line to get to where you’d planned to go. “jude?”

he’s silent, save for humming his way to his desired destination, and you question if he even knows where he’s leading you. before you make the choice of going along with him or leaving his clearly confused self to go cop your next cocktail, you find yourself in the disabled toilets, pushed up against the sink with the door not even shut properly, gasping at how rough jude is handling your body compared to his soft touches from before, and how close his face is to yours, warm breath fanning the skin of your lips. you weren’t strictly against it all but how the hell have you ended up like this? The alcohol and the questions come at you fast, dizzying your brain but you can’t help but feel so keenly anticipative.

“i’m sorry, i just…” he pulls away from you, eyes fluttering closed so he can re-evaluate his actions, exhaling through his nose as if he was letting go of all doubts before continuing. “am i okay to do this?” he places his hands on your waist, pushing himself back into your space, his full lips more or less about to take yours. you have to refrain from letting the effects of alcohol take over your tongue and uttering back with a breathy ‘you can do whatever you want to me’.

instead, you answer with an earnest, eager nod, inviting his lips to finally do that one thing you had been dreaming of for so long, to kiss yours so silly that they’re left with the imprint of him. and jude does just that.

his mouth takes in yours so determinedly, shyness and hesitation now long-dissolved feelings for you both as your hands find home around the back of his neck, pushing his head further onto you, feeling the need to taste him more and more until you’re both consumed by each other.

it’s a messy makeout, noses bumping and teeth clashing, but it’s oh so hot, the way he gasps into your mouth from breathlessness and pleasure, running and gripping his large hands over the material adorning your waist and hips as the need to rip it off you nearly overtakes him. to you, he’s so utterly intoxicating that a gallon of alcohol would pale in comparison to how dizzy his skin on yours makes you feel.

you release a moan at the meagre thought of jude all over your body, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue over yours, filthy noises of wetness and carnality from the both of you reaching high pitch as jude somehow simultaneously pushes you against the sink and pulls you against his chest, his manhandling of you getting you even more hot and bothered before you’re both interrupted by the hub of people passing by and huddling right outside the bathroom, their self-occupied shouts and cheers dragging you out of the bubble that the two of you had wrapped yourselves in, almost sobering you up on the spot.

you push jude out of your way, gentle but abrupt, and give him a look of apologetic regret. “i-i’m sorry,” you say, jitterily walking past him and exiting the room without a second glance or word, heading straight to the booth where your friends are hollering and hurraying, occupied with shot-drinking contests.

your girlfriends offer to go home with you when you lie and tell them you’re not feeling very well, but you decline them, instead telling them to have fun on your behalf and letting them know that you’ll try to text them once you get home safely. you can tell they’re confused by your shaken state and the absence of jude but you grab your bag and make your exit before the interrogation can even begin to brew.

you manage to grab a taxi back home, surprised by how competent you are despite the alcohol in your bloodstream and confusion in your brain. on the way there, you can’t stop the bouncing of your knee nor the racing of your psyche, asking yourself how and why whatever went down with jude went down like that. you curse at yourself for being so impulsive in starting and finishing the whole ordeal with him in the way that you did – you don’t know if it’s the empty, depressive drunk thoughts or just clarity from the whole jude thing that makes you feel like there’s no coming back from this at all. you feel like crawling into your bed and never coming out from it ever again.

the taxi driver has to call for your attention multiple times until you reach earth again and pay him the journey’s fee. you go skulking all the way up to your front door, only letting out a breath that you feel like you’ve been holding since the beginning of the night once the door shuts behind you.

the rest of the night is quiet and orderly for you, telling yourself to not invite any more chaos into your brain and to simply drink some water and to go to sleep. waking up tomorrow morning is going to be painful in more ways than one.

***

you spend the rest of the weekend nursing a ferocious hangover and a frazzled heart, only contacting your friends to tell them that you got home fine and to joke that you probably need a century or two for this hangover to be gone. you thank the high heavens that they don't bring up the topic of you and jude

you try not to think too much about jude, you really do, but sunday night has a couple of taps landing you on the instagram app and you learn that he’s already back in spain, pictures of him in training sliding across your phone screen on his story along with selfies with his teammates. usually, you tap that small red heart at the bottom and hope that he sees it amongst his millions and millions of notifications, a tiny ritual of yours that now has you feeling so pathetic that you don’t dare to do it anymore.

running a hand over your weary face, you set your phone down and opt to nap the night away, finding comfort in the non-intrusion from your friends and the no contact from jude, hoping to keep yourself busy and distracted with whatever the work week brings.

a ring from the doorbell rips through your flat just as you’re organising your pillows, forcing you to stop what you’re doing and ponder who could be at the door on a sunday while the clock ticks some minutes past one o’clock. you don’t recollect ordering any food nor are you expecting a delivery, especially not this late.

trudging your way to the front door, you open it to find jude bellingham standing there and you feel an instant pang of regret, wishing you had peeked through the window to see who it could be, wishing you had pretended to not be in, wishing the ground would open up right now and swallow you whole – anything to escape the confrontation that you’re now having to face. your face heats up with embarrassment and nerves but you manage to rupture the silence before your mouth can turn dry.

“j-jude, hi,” you try and keep your greeting as polite and cordial as you can, even when all you really want to do is to chase him off your doorstep. “what are you doing here?”

your query has jude visibly gulping, hands fiddling with each other as he attempts to hold eye contact with you, his vision a bit blurry from exhaustion. “y/n… sorry, can i come in?”

you oblige, holding the door open wide before you guide him to the living room and invite him to sit down on the plushness of your sofa, settling yourself on the opposite end of it. you silently prompt him to say what he came here to say with a nod of your head.

“uhm, i’m sorry for turning up unannounced, and so late…” ever the courteous. “i had to sneak away from the lads and catch the last flight to here so it was all a bit down to the wire.” he lets out a small, uneasy laugh.

you cut off his rambling with a curt “what do you want, jude?” you don’t mean for it to sound so rude but you still hold the attitude of wanting to get this over and done with, already feeling annoyance at yourself for even letting him into your home.

“right, yeah, i actually wanted to talk about what happened on saturday,” he goes back to fiddling with this thumbs, eyebrows furrowed but he avoids looking at you this time. not that you can blame him because your own vision shifts to anywhere but his direction. “i’m so sorry for making you uncomfortable a-and please tell me if this is inappropriate, but i haven’t stopped thinking about last night, i haven't stopped thinking about you, i-i’m sorry, i know this is all so silly and you probably don’t even feel the same bu-”

you stop him right there, this time with good reason as you can’t bear holding back your real emotions, not when he’s practically given you the green light to spill the contents of your heart.

“no, jude, i didn’t feel uncomfortable at all,” you assure him, gaze now on the footballer in front of you and you almost can’t believe the words leaving your mouth right now. “i wanted it to happen, i’m glad it happened, you know, i think i’ve had dreams about it happening,” you try and offset any tension with a timid chuckle before turning quite pensive. “i really like you, jude, i have for a long time… god, sorry, this is so embarrassing.” you return to making light of the situation you’ve put yourself in, the timidness sinking back in as quick as the relief lifts you up.

jude moves closer to your now-cowering body, knees touching as your heartbeat surges with worry and self-consciousness all wrapped up into a tight, miserable ball. he puts his sweat-dampened hands into yours and squeezes in silent assurance before raising them up to his lips and laying a chaste kiss on the heated skin.

he can’t help but break out into a sweet smile, eyes threatening to crinkle at the edges. your face is still sketched with tension and now confusion has joined the mix.

“i can’t tell you how long i’ve waited to hear that from you, how much i needed to hear it,” your eyes meet his, widening in surprise a little. “i’m a fool for not telling you sooner… i like you, y/n, i really like you.” he repeats your own words back at you, leaning in with a smattering of amusement dancing in his vision.

“can i kiss you?” the question leaves your lips faster than you can even process it in your brain.

jude wastes no time in replying with a firm pressing of his mouth on yours, deepening it within seconds, the need to cement his feelings for you being told through the way he cradles your head in his hand, leaning you back onto the arm of the sofa to further intensify the kiss. your lips move along with his, the soft weight of his body pressed against yours making you whine into his mouth in ecstasy.

he lifts off of you with a puckering of his swollen lips, the both of you taking the chance to draw in some air and attempt to regulate your breathing pattern.

“please take me to the bedroom,” you beg, breathless from the sheer sight of his dark eyes and pretty pout. there’s no fight nor denial from jude as he picks you up and prompts you to wrap your legs around his waist, quickening his pace once you point in the direction of your room.

he lays you down on the bed so gently, lips latching onto yours once again before they travel down your jaw and over the warm skin of your neck. the light touch of his fluttering eyelashes married with the pressure of his soft lips has your head spinning, hands tentatively laid on top of your sheets since you don’t trust yourself to not grab his head and bring it back to your lips. his fingers tinker with the waistband of your pyjama trousers, stretching it off your skin before he asks permission to peel them down your legs.

once they’re cast away in some corner of your bedroom, jude divides your legs by the underside of your knees, tucking himself into the now available space between them, turning onto his side and resting on his left forearm. he leaves a small kiss over your covered cunt and you try your best to not just clamp his head in between your thighs and smother him with your growing wetness here and now.

“need to get you ready, baby,” the sudden mention of the petname has you throbbing, squirming even more when he traces a line from your clit down to where there’s a small damp spot forming on the dark material of your underwear.

“jude, please,” you whine out, lifting your hips in a desperate bid to get the boy to strip your lower half completely.

he shushes you in his own charming way, making sure to comply with your demand by getting up onto his knees and discarding your soaked panties in a matter of seconds, the cold air generated by his large hands whipping them off you hits your exposed pussy, making you hiss through gritted teeth.

jude returns to the gap between your spread legs, sitting back but still on his knees, his higher position causing you to shift onto resting your body weight on the palms of your hands in order to peer at his actions – which start with him re-tracing that same teasing line from your aching clit to your hole with his thumb, the feeling now so intense on your unclothed skin. he hums in what sounds to be satisfaction when you throw your head back in pleasure, taking it in his favour to slip his index finger into the tightness of your pussy.

you release a guttural groan at the feeling of finally having some part of him inside you; you of course don’t want this to be the only part but you’re still so very grateful, so fucking grateful he’s now rubbing at your clit in delicious rounds, thumb tracing circle after circle while his fingers form a pair, pistoning in and out of you so easily due to the way your cunt douses itself with every move of jude’s.

“fuck, baby,” jude moans at the sight of his soaked digits every time they barely pull out of that pretty pussy, his thumb torturing your sensitive bud increasingly so, the cries and whimpers spilling from your lips an incentive for him. “feel so good and tight around my fingers, can’t imagine how you’ll feel around my dick.”

his words have you absolutely reeling, writhing against his hand to try and chase that moment of release.

“please, jude, i’m so close,” you’re warning and demanding at the same time, almost begging him to not stop or even think about moving his fingers out of you. “god, please, i need it,”

jude suddenly retracts both of his hands, leaving you bare and empty. “no way, baby, need to have you cumming on my cock or not cumming at all,” he comments with a shake of his head, denying you the opportunity of leaking your cum over his hand. upon seeing your bewildered face, he makes up for it by putting on a show of licking your juices clean off his fingers, the digits popped inside his mouth and dragged right back out with a low moan, him praising the way you taste.

“move up the bed for me, angel,” he orders, watching you while he stands up and unclothes himself as quick as he can. you scoot backwards, legs still spread open like they’ve been locked in that position, before pulling your oversized t-shirt off of you, chest void of a restricting bra . “good girl,” he praises, crawling up to hover his body over your laying one, cock in hand as your legs come to wrap around him. “are you still okay with this? we can stop at any point, okay?”

the sincerity of his voice has you melting. some would remark that the bar is in hell for you but the truth is that you hadn’t been with anyone like this for more months than you could count on your hands. you've been touch-starved and lacking words of affirmation for so long, and you needed something to be only about you for once.

“i’m more than okay with this,” you smile up at him, nodding to make your approval fully known. “and yes, i know i can stop you if i need to.”

jude reciprocates the same smile before leaning in and smothering your lips with his, pushing his cock into your tight wetness, so tight that your pussy almost pushes him back out, not used to being penetrated by something so thick.

“oh my god!” the feeling of tightness/fullness has you both gasping out the same thing at the same time, erupting into quiet giggles when the two of you realise your matching reactions.

jude’s mouth finds its way back home in the embrace of your lips and you swear this is heaven, the way his cock slides in and out of your sopping cunt, set at such a perfect pace, the slight friction causing you to grow even wetter – the filth of it all contrasts so well with the sweetness of his muffled moans and tender kisses on your neck, moving down onto your collarbones and tits.

a particularly harsh thrust of his cock has your back arching, chest pushed up to his heated face, and he takes this golden opportunity to wrap his lips around your erect nipple, spending a good while sucking and tugging on the skin around it. you’re amazed at how his cock doesn’t relent inside you, the speed still so quick and consistent even when he’s so occupied in painting splotches on your tits with his mouth.

“there,” he pants out, pulling his head back and marvelling at his own creation. “now, there’s no doubt that you’re really mine.” the smile he gives you is a killer.

you whine at his declaration of you belonging to him, scratching at his shoulders and calling out his name to indicate that it’s all too much for you, that you’re so, so close to cumming on his cock and really giving him what he wants rather than pleasing yourself. you figure that’s you gone now; you’re more willing to put the boy above your own needs because you’re down that fucking bad for him.

“fuck, jude, i’m gonna cum!” you sob, your moans becoming more frequent and higher pitched, legs starting to shake from the intoxicating mix of exhaustion and delight. you’re frantically chanting “please, please, please” into his mouth which parts to swallow your whimpering, wet lips kissing your trembling ones.

“go on, baby, cum for me, cum all over this cock,” he groans out, eyes squeezing shut when the feeling of your pussy clamping down tightly on his thickness proves too much to handle, face finding refuge in the crook of your neck. he knows you don’t need his permission, he would’ve let you orgasm as many times as you wanted to, would’ve let you use him like your own personal sex toy, but the words were only there to keep you going when his hips felt like faltering – he needed you cumming on his cock like he promised before, and he wasn’t about to fuck it up himself.

a final scream rips from your throat as you cum hard around jude, pussy clenching and pulsating around his cock so sporadically you thought you were having two orgasms at once. jude can’t handle it anymore, pulling out with a myriad of moans as he pumps his shaft with a hand, decorating the expanse of your lower abdomen with warm, white liquid. you’re still squirming, slowly trying to wheeze out the remaining whimpers from your lungs which you’re finding hard to do with the way jude pants and moans above you, the boy so spent he can’t help but breathe like he hasn’t had access to air for the past hour.

he flops down by your side, arms and legs sprawled like a starfish, chest rising and falling as he attempts to recuperate from the mindblowing sex you two just had. the image is so unserious that you can’t stifle your giggles but you decide to take another step of courage to lay on your side resting your head on his shoulder, fingers stroking his abs and playing with the curly hairs of his happy trail.

the room is quiet now with the scent of sex wafting through your nostrils on occasion but it’s the most comfortable silence you’ve experienced with jude, the feeling of his hot skin on yours so soothing to you.

after a period of panting, jude clears his throat and your ears prick up at the presence of sound. he turns his head towards you and you lift yourself up and off him out of instinct – you want full attention on him.

“i don’t want this to be a one-time kinda thing, y’know,” he proclaims, biting his lip from saying too much in one go.

“what, is this your way of saying you want round two already?” you joke, nose crinkling at the way he rolls his eyes playfully.

“shut up,” he delivers a poke to your side. “i mean, well, i don’t want either one of us to see this as a spur-of-the-moment thing, i just…” you look at him expectantly, silently telling him to continue. “i want you to be my girlfriend, y/n.”

you’re nearly knocked back by his words, wondering if they’re real or if you’re simply just hearing things. you thought dialogue like that, coming from him, was only reserved for your imagination, kept secret and only spoken to you in late-night mental scenarios that would comfort you on your way to slumberland.

you let out a laugh that’s an odd mix of relief and disbelief, quickly replying “yes, yes, of course” to his awaiting face, which releases a look of relief itself before jude captures your lips with such passion you’re both knocked back onto the plush pillows, giggling into each other’s mouths until your hands find themselves running down the defined muscles of his abdomen and over his hardening cock.

#girlies i’ve never had alcohol in my life so i hope the way i wrote reader & jude being drunk was ok !!! 🫶🏽#then again i’ve never had sex in my life and i write extensively about it so u know . 😭😭😭#guys imagine if before every smut fic i wrote a disclaimer like ‘guys i-i’ve never had sex before but i hope i did okay with this 🥺🥺' LMAO #ALSO omg im sorry abt the inconsistencies in tone + tempo i legit wrote this over a 5 month period + came back to it at times when i didnt #feel like writing + i was just tryna get to the good bit iykwim ( ͡ ° ͜ʖ ͡ °)#˗ˏˋ 📝 ˎˊ˗#˗ˏˋ 💬 ˎˊ˗#jude bellingham #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x fem!reader #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x y/n #football imagine #footballer smut #footballer imagine

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storywriter007 · 4 months ago

Note

can you do a “fighting for the first time” preference/headcannons with the HoO boys ? i love ur work!!

Fighting for the First Time - HoO Boys x Fem!Reader

author's note: thank you for the request!! and i'm so glad you like my work, this literally made my day. this is what i feel like first fights (non-quest related) would go but add your ideas in the comments!!

genre: angst ending in fluff

word count: 1.5k but it's all in bullet points

-> heroes of olympus masterlist

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send me requests here! (these are my guidelines)

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percy jackson

the first time you guys seriously fight, it goes one of two ways

either a.) he doesn't care about who's right and just wants things to go back to normal or b.) he thinks he's right

option a is the preferred option

he tries to talk to you, finding you whenever and wherever

he refuses to leave until the problem is sorted out

and he is upset the entire duration of the fight

he apologizes for anything

"i'm sorry if i did anything at all to hurt you" kind of apology

option a fights would be over things like unintentionally hurting each-other

like accidentally saying something mean or sparring too roughly with each-other

or it would be over his reckless behavior

in which he understands why it worries you

this first fight wouldn't last long

maybe a day before you guys are all good again

option b is the worst

when he's convinced he's right, he tunes you out

not intentionally, it's just that he's too caught up in what he's feeling to properly listen to you

you guys go back and forth in circles

practically yelling at each-other

his eyes get dark and he becomes angry quickly

refuses to listen to you until things reach a tipping point

either you or him storm out and leave the other one alone for a few days and talk it out once they've cooled down

or one of you starts crying, and the anger is overshadowed by guilt and heartbreak bc of their ignorance

this fight would probably be over his loved ones

if you had pointed out a flaw about them or something they did which you didn't appreciate

or maybe just a passing comment you unintentionally made

i mean the loyalty on that man is crazy

lots of hurt feelings during this fight

and it would last a while - the most being a week

however, both fights would have a mutual apology

where both of you apologize for the things you've said and done

and you guys agree to do better in the future

you probs end up falling asleep in cabin 3 that night

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jason grace

to get in a serious fight with him, it's gotta be something big

jason is calm and level-headed

he takes a walk the first time things get heated and comes back to you with a clear mind

he talks to you calmly, treating the fight more like a debate

don't get it wrong though: internally he's freaking out

he's lost a lot, and he doesn't want to lose you

honestly your first serious fight with him would be over reckless behavior (on your end) or him being walked over

your first serious fight spawns from how deeply you two care for each-other

either he's mad you don't care about yourself and doesn't know how to tell you calmly bc you don't listen

or you're mad that he's ready to die for gods and kids who don't care about him in the least

you guys only fight about these things because light-hearted conversations don't send the message

jason, especially, stays stern during the fight

you wonder if he even cares tbh

but then you notice how he pauses and searches for words, how his lip twitches when you say something snappy, and the look in his eyes

he barely raises his voice, and only does it when you interrupt him constantly

the first fight would end within a day

it would end with revealing why you are reckless or why he is so selfless

it would be a calm, vulnerable conversation

would probs end in a make-out session bc he was so afraid he was gonna lose you

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leo valdez

i'm going to be so real rn: the fight starts because he's feeling inferior

he loves you sm and he considers himself lucky to have you

but bc of that - his feeling of inferiority would be on the back of his mind

he's not really jealous, but more-so afraid you're going to leave him at the drop of a hat like how everyone else has

so he gets upset if you're spending too much time around any other guy

the book series repeatedly talks about leo's insecurities and how he feels like he's not good enough and how he feels everything is his fault

insecurity runs deep and it would most definitely be a reason for a fight

you guys do raise your voices bc at first you're not understanding each-other

you think he's jealous and he thinks you don't want to be with him anymore

after you guys are done with your screaming match, leo would coop up wherever his machines are

he would stay there for a long time and think

he 100% is over analyzing every single thing you said to him

he's convinced you guys are going to break up and you're going to leave him

and he deserves it because it's his fault for starting the argument

even though he isn't jealous or thinks you're a cheater, he just let his insecurities get the best of him

and he feels like it's over for you two

he doubts himself; wondering if he should even try to talk to you or just let what he believes is the inevitable happen

so he doesn't even try to apologize

he is convinced it is all his fault

overworks himself in an attempt to distract himself from all of his terrible thoughts

you, on the other hand, have your time alone and want to talk to him

it's nighttime and he's nowhere to be found

you go to his little lab and voila, there he is

his eyes are red and sunken and his hands are shaky and dirty

you don't say anything, you just hug him

he breaks down and tells you why he was actually mad

he profusely apologizes and doesn't blame you if you want to break up

you explain to him that you are with him because you love him and that one little fight would never make you leave him

you reassure him that he is more than enough

this fight doesn't last more than a day or maybe two

the fight would end with a really intense kiss

and you would probably spend the rest of the night with him in his little work area

you'd watch movies, make jokes, laugh a lot, and company him while he manically works on something

that something is metal flowers as an apology for acting the way he did

it's his way of saying "we're stuck together and i love you :)"

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frank zhang

it's difficult to get into a serious fight with frank

but if you do, it would be over reckless behavior (on your end, c'mon y/n) or his own insecurity

your reckless behavior specifically with fire

frank and fire do not get along - it's well known

he literally can't stand you doing something dangerous in general

but with fire, it's even worse

he's convinced something terrible is going to happen and he lashes out at you bc of his previous experiences with fire

this fight would be short-lived though, bc you would understand why he feels that way

you'd apologize to him and he would apologize for lashing out

you'd agree to stop joking around with fire, but you'd convince him to start getting over his fear

this first fight actually ends up more helpful in the long run as frank slowly overcomes his fear of fire with you by his side

however, if it's his own insecurities, this would go another way

as mentioned, frank has been bullied

and he repeatedly feels like an outcast because he doesn't have dyslexia/adhd, he's an archer but he's a mars kid, and his life depends on a piece of firewood

your fight would start bc he felt left out with you

but it's just him overthinking

(if you use a sword) it's you sparring with jason or percy for practice

and it kinda makes him feel like "i want to help my gf but she needs someone who's actually good"

if you hang out with another mars kid for too long

makes him think "what i should be"

if you made a jab at him that he took a little too seriously

frank is a gentle giant, so he wouldn't yell in the least

you guys would argue and he'd be lost for words, kind of stuttering and repeating himself a lot

he'd just kinda walk off during an argument

this would make you mad bc he started the thing and doesn't want to listen to you

but really, he just wants to talk to you when it's not so heated

you'd go hide in your cabin/room

frank would be walking around and comes to the realization that walking out on your argument was a douchebag move

he shapeshifts into like a rat or a bug or something to go see you in your cabin and make sure you're not hurt

you'd see some random animal in your cabin and you get freaked out

he turn back into himself and apologizes for being rash

he'd be honest and tell you that he was just overthinking things and that he just got in his own head

you accept his apology and tell him to communicate better

to tell you if he feels left out or if he doesn't think something is funny, and to tell you that's he's leaving the argument bc he wants to think abt it

this fight is over by sundown

and you spend the rest of the evening practicing archery with him

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sunaluv · 1 year ago

Note

A cute prompt! The moment they realized they want to spend the rest of their lives with you 🥺🥺 (Also hi hello new follower here i love ur works!!!! Hope ur having an awesome day stay safe and stay hydrated 🫶🫶🫶)

i got you

feat: ran, eren, shigaraki(🥹), gojo

RAN

ill be honest, it was probably during an argument.

he was absolutely smitten with you. that was probably why you too rarely fought. also, the two of you were too unbothered to draw out fights long.

so when it hit the 2-day mark and he hadn't seen or heard from you since you stormed out of the house, he became worried.

he had a lot of enemies and you knew that too. his mind kept him up at night if he didn't spend it combing the streets of japan looking for you.

the rest of bonten saw it too. he became more snappy with his colleagues (they had to calm mikey down before they fought fr), he went crazy and fired his secretary for some reason, mans was spiralling out of control.

his brother hated seeing him like this, so he helped look for you, contacting all your friends and family on your whereabouts.

eventually they found you, hiding in your friends' house (she's a real one and told them she didn't know where you were when they asked).

ran was an emotional wreck. over a girlllll.

honestly, rindou was shaking his head, but he knew his brother was in deep.

you talked things out and smoothed it over, and although you were a little pissy with him, you allowed him to hold you in his embrace, whispering gently apologies in between kisses to your hairline.

when you finally fell asleep in his arms, ran didn't want to let you go or sleep. he felt like you might disappear if he takes his eyes off you for a second.

that when it hit him how deeply in love he was with you, and he (along with everyone in the bonten building) realised you really do keep him sane and he can't imagine a life without you.

he promised that, if you stuck around long enough, he'll make sure you stay with him forever <3

EREN

best friends to lovers trope woop woop

okay so he realised this way before you two got together.

so one day, there was a big falling out in your friend group which caused a massive divide.

you, mikasa, sasha, and the eldia boys (reiner, bert) were all on one side. and eren, armin, jean connie and such were on the other side. yall were a big friend group too so the news travelled fast that you divided.

you and eren weren't the causation, but people had to pick sides which meant you were split up.

the divide couldn't have come at a worse time too because you were in that stage where you knew you had feelings for each other and were flirting and dancing around the fact that you wanted to be together.

now you couldn't be seen together by your friends unless you wanted to cause more drama (giving romeo and juliet).

he still had a strong desire to see you, so he often snuck around with you in the evening/night time, and it honestly was kinda romantic, though you wished you could hang out in the day too.

he took you out on 'dates' (referred to as 'friendly outings' bc feelings are complicated) and he drew them out as long as possible because he hated it when it was time to say goodbye. every time you left, he would count down the hours before he could see you again.

absence really does make the heart grow fonder because he had to control himself from gravitating towards you during the day and it hurt the both of you.

it was one random night where he couldn't fall asleep. he was just staring at the ceiling, replaying your whole date in his head and he didn't realise he started smiling a little.

with his head buried in the pillow, he sighed wanting nothing more than to be with you forever.

SHIGARAKI

you were the first and probably the only girl to show interest in him and honestly, the minute you did, he thought yall were locked in for life.

he thought relationships were purely meant to be transactional, so when he finally understood that you just wanted to be there for him because you truly cared and loved for him? he thought he was sick by the way his heart squeezed.

it took him a while to adjust, and you gave him all the time and space he needed because the last thing you wanted was for him to be overwhelmed.

he slowly became more comfortable with you helping him with things, once he learnt he didn't have to do everything solo whilst he was around.

he was changing for the better (not too much tho), he notices how much healthier he looked now that he was getting three proper meals a day, his skin felt hydrated and the desire to itch his skin off drastically lessened.

he felt like it was too good to be true and became paranoid that something bad was gonna happen like the heroes taking you away, or AFO manipulating you, like he did to him.

kurogiri felt proud of his young master for recalling the 'gentlemanly advice' he gave him as he watched the two of you converse on the loveseat in the quiet bar.

his league was empty, the bar was old and not bringing in enough money and he had a whole lot on his plate which was enough to make him hate everything.

but with you around, he could learn to hate things a little less <3

GOJO

manga spoilers

mans busted out the box and was craving your touch instantly!

the last conversation you had before he got sealed was him telling you he'll be back later, pecking your pout away before leaving.

little did you know you wouldn't see gojo for another 19 days.

he didn't have a lot of time before he had to go and fight sukuna, so he wanted to talk to you while his time was still guaranteed.

the reunition was hella emotional, he squeezed you so tight and let your tears soak his shirt.

he pulled your face back to meet his gaze, and you were surprised to see tears welling up in his eyes, but that was the least of your problems. you noticed him trying to get his words out and you were patient as he seemed to be finding the right words to say.

after lots of out of character stuttering, he blurted out "marry me."

you were shocked and he was scared he crossed the line when you went silent for a minute, but you very emotionally said yes on your apartment floor in your baggy sweats and t-shirt belonging to your now-fiancee.

although it was just under 3 weeks he was gone, it felt like an eternity without you, so he vowed that when he got out of the box, he was going to make sure you know he will always come back for you.

#eren x reader #eren yeager x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #ran x reader #ran haitani x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x reader

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ugh-yoongi · 10 months ago

Text

the very last thing i decide | pjm

(or, the one in which a love exists that's easy and instinctual as much as it is painful and self-destructive.)

✘ PAIRING jimin x f. reader ✘ SUMMARY you learn what it means to love with blood on your hands. ✘ GENRE hitman/assassin au; angst, smut ✘ RATING explicit. minors dni. ✘ WARNINGS they are both hitmen (hitpeople?) so there's all the content that goes along with that: violence, death, mentions of blood (a lot) and weapons, murder, but no explicit gore. everyone is morally grey at best and downright psychotic at worst (especially yoongi). reader gets stabbed. no one knows how to be a functional human being. swearing, smoking, light smut (penetrative & oral sex), miscommunication and unrequited love but not really, i drop a classic tumblr meme in a line of dialogue. ambiguous/hopeful ending!! some of the themes here are kinda heavy and i am not entirely sure how to tag them so if you have any questions pls don’t hesitate to ask! ✘ WORDCOUNT 12k ✘ LISTEN TO manchester orchestra - telepath ✘ THANK YOU i cannot remember everyone i’ve showed this to over the years. @the-boy-meets-evil for looking this over and brainstorming with me today. @hot-soop for always being a help. @effortandmore because you told me an embarrassingly long time ago this was worth finishing. and i’m pretty sure i also sent this to @jihopesjoint at some point too. i did a quick edit of this on my own, but after nearly three years i just wanted it posted and out of my wips so i'm sure i missed things. pls ignore them. ✘ AUTHOR'S NOTE fic drops two days in a row?? who am i?? i started this in may 2021 and it was supposed to be a simple pegging fic. i abandoned it bc i was convinced no one would want to read it. between today and yesterday i have written thousands of words and made it across the finish line. i hope you like it. the violence is a metaphor for love or whatever.

[37.5665° N, 126.9780° E | Seoul, SOUTH KOREA]

Jimin’s hair had been red the first time he met you.

How fitting, he thinks, considering he’s currently bleeding out on a table.

Well, there’s still a bit of fight left in him. He hasn’t lost consciousness yet, which he assumes is a good sign; he can still hear Hoseok barking out orders quite clearly. The edges of his vision are fuzzy and the pain in his abdomen is sharp and unrelenting, but he still has enough brain power left to wish he’d died instead.

Because you’d saved his life. And now he’s further indebted to you.

(Jimin never leaves a debt unpaid, but he’s not sure how to make even on something like this.)

Jungkook and Taehyung are fetching supplies faster than Hoseok can ask for them. Two pairs of frazzled, spaced-out eyes. Four sets of trembling limbs. Namjoon’s wearing burn marks into the floor, his cuticles bloody and nearly worried to the bone since he can’t keep them out of his mouth.

And then there’s you.

Sitting cross-legged in a chair as you scroll through your phone. Jimin’s blood is still drying on your hands, leaving smears as you drag your thumb back and forth across the screen, and this doesn’t seem to faze you one bit.

Behind you, Yoongi takes a seat at the piano and starts playing Toccata and Fugue in D minor, and Jimin simply cannot die like this. He can’t die on a wooden table in a room with a piano on which Min Yoongi is playing Baroque organ pieces.

“What is this, a fucking funeral?” Hoseok snaps, though there’s a desperation creeping into his tone that Jimin does not like, does not want to hear. “Cut it out, Yoongi.”

Said man staunchly ignores the doctor, transitioning flawlessly into the fugue. Jimin barely hears the tinkle of your laughter but he hears it all the same, and he wants to pretend it doesn’t calm him, bring him back down to earth when he starts drifting too far away. But you do, and it does, and all he can think about is: will you miss him if he dies? Will it take you long to wash his blood from your hands?

Hoseok’s absolutely incensed, pushed to the limits of his stress at the thought of not being able to save Jimin’s life, and Jimin appreciates this, really, but not when Hoseok pushes two gloved fingers deep into the wound in his stomach so hard all he can do is cry. “Yoongi—”

You snort. You don’t even look up from your phone.

Namjoon, for all his leadership and stoicism and poise under pressure, is just as frantic and panicked as the rest. It’s not everyday one of his people is inches from death ten feet away from him. Most people usually die in the shadows. Kim Namjoon has faced down death more times than most, yet watching the life slowly fade from Jimin’s eyes is too much even for him. “Yoongi, please—”

But the fugue keeps going, tempo change after tempo change, the two pillars of this organization spiraling completely by the time the coda starts, unfocused and sweating and praying. To gods they don’t believe in, to hope, to chance—whatever and whoever might be listening. Jimin usually loves hearing Yoongi play. It’s the only thing that humanizes him, and Jimin had spent so many restless nights shoulder to shoulder with him on that exact bench in the blue hours of the early morning, hypnotized by the way the older man’s knobby fingers moved across the keys.

This is it, he thinks.

Jimin’s going to die with Toccata and Fugue in D minor playing in the background.

He’s imagined his death so many times. Stupid not to in this line of work. Violent, quick and painless, in his sleep, drawn out and gory, a message. And in all of those scenarios, it’s either jarringly silent or there’s someone screaming. Usually him, sounding much like he is now, two fingers stuck in his gut. In all of those scenarios, Min Yoongi is never playing Bach as everything fades to black.

You sigh. “Shut the fuck up, Yoongi,” you say, your tone as blasé and inconvenienced as ever.

Shocked at your audacity, one of Yoongi’s fingers slips and hits the wrong key, something dissonant and metallic as it rings out. But the music stops all the same, the silence nearly giving Jimin whiplash. Now he can hear the clinkof Hoseok’s tools, the squelching of his wound, Jungkook’s desperate pleading for him to just be alright, please God, just hang on. He wants the music back. He doesn’t want Jungkook’s crying to be the last thing he hears. Doesn’t want the sound of his own organs imprinted into his memory.

“What’d you say?” Yoongi asks, because no one talks to him that way. They wouldn’t dare. Most people try not to talk to him at all.

But you do.

And, inexplicably, Yoongi listens.

You roll your eyes. “You go deaf in your old age? I said shut the fuck up. Hoseok’s two knuckles deep in Jimin’s fucking stomach and you’re over there having your little Amadeus moment.”

He bristles. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” Yoongi repeats, and Jimin can’t see him, but he knows his eyes are narrowed, lips pulled back in a snarl, fists clenched at his side.

“Oh, princess,” you coo, and Yoongi’s fury is palpable, permeates every inch of this place, overrides all the fear and anguish. “I’m talking to you, baby. I know Jiminie’s busy trying not to die and that’s stressful for all of us, but please do try to keep up.”

Jimin hears the flick of Yoongi’s switchblade. Then he hears him say, “Please let me fucking kill her,” in that lazy Daegu drawl of his, like forming full words are beneath him. Not worth the effort when they’re directed at you.

Still seated, you uncross your legs and, through blurred vision, Jimin watches you grab Yoongi by his belt loops to tug him closer, grab the wrist that holds his knife and press it to your own throat. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Yoongi. Be a good boy and make it hurt.”

Jungkook’s near hysterics at Jimin’s side. “What the fuck is wrong with you two? He’s dying!”

Jimin tries to say I’m not, Kookie, I’m okay but the pressure on his abdomen is too intense. He can barely breathe, and Hoseok’s still digging around, still looking for that stupid fucking bullet, had to do something and do it quick so there’d been very little anesthetic and finesse, and he’s silently screaming for someone to just comfort Jungkook, tell him everything’s going to be okay, but instead—

“Serves him right for being a fucking idiot,” you say, words muffled by the knife still pressed to your throat. “What a painful, permanentlesson in not forgetting your fucking vest.”

“Stop it!” Jungkook sobs, fingers ghosting along Jimin’s matted fringe.

Yoongi’s still scowling. “Just say the word, Joon-ah. I’ll make it quick.”

You actually laugh at that. The kind of full-belly laugh Jimin would kill to be able to produce. “You wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

Someone snarls. Probably Yoongi. “You’d look so good gutted on the floor like a fish,” he replies, and if Jimin knows him at all, he knows he’s got that dreamy, faraway look in his eyes. The one he always gets when he’s about to kill—the one that makes him so unhinged and dangerous. “Left there to bleed out and die all alone like the trash you are.”

No one’s survived that look before, but you just grin, as if being on the receiving end of it is nothing more than another simple inconvenience. “Do it, then,” you prompt. “You’re so big and bad, yet here you are, waiting for Namjoon’s permission like some kind of pathetic fucking dog.”

“I’m no one’s dog.”

Your eyes slowly flick over to Namjoon. “No?” you ask, smile widening as Jimin watches you drag your heeled foot up the inside of Yoongi’s calf, his thigh, stiletto coming to rest in the center of his sternum. “That’s a shame, princess. That pretty neck of yours was just made for a collar.”

There’s no doubt in Jimin’s mind now that he actually died back in that penthouse and is now residing in whatever level of hell is watching you give his associate a semi despite him being a millisecond away from murdering you.

Yoongi would do it, too. No hesitation. You’ve been on his shit list for as long as Jimin can remember, and you’ve been daring him to put his money where his mouth is and just kill you already for just as long.

Taehyung groans. “Can you two just fuck already so the rest of us can be spared of this?”

You click your tongue, tone melting like butter. You’re fond of Taehyung, soft on him. “No can do, angel. Yoongi here knows I only have eyes for our Jiminie, and god does that hurt his little feelings.”

Your wicked smile gives away nothing—whether you’re telling a bold truth or just unnecessarily needling Yoongi further—but Jimin’s caught off guard and chokes on your words nonetheless.

Hoseok’s forceps still digging around in his stomach, there’s a quiet hurrah of triumph as he finally locates the bullet. Jimin feels nothing as he retrieves it and plucks it out, a reverberated clank! as he drops it into a kidney dish, your words the anesthetic he’s needed as they play on a loop in his head.

When he finally blacks out, either from the pain or the adrenaline or both, it’s your face that greets him. He never gets the chance to tell you why he forgot his vest.

[64.1466° N, 21.9426° W | Reykjavík, ICELAND]

Jimin’s hair is blue when it happens the first time.

It’s November. Namjoon has sent the two of you to Reykjavik and it’s dark all the time, the midnight hue of his hair blending into the impenetrable nighttime that surrounds you. Jimin works best like this—out of sight, part of the shadows. He’s light on his feet, lithe in ways no one else is, not even you, and he’s impossible to anticipate under the cover of darkness.

That’s why Jimin always takes care of the appetizers.

It’s your job to clean up the main course.

The two of you are two halves of the same lethal coin, working together flawlessly after years of carefully honed practice. Jimin slams an unsuspecting man’s head into a wall and you’re right behind him to put a bullet in it.

It’s just how it goes.

And he trusts you. He has to, otherwise he would’ve gotten taken out years ago. You’re not always in his line of sight, but he always feels you, senses your movements before you’re even on your feet. The times it’s gone wrong—and it’s gone wrong so many fucking times, despite how cautious and skilled the two of you are—you’re always right there to catch him before he even hits the ground. Just like a ghost, as if your only purpose in life is keeping Jimin safe and alive.

(It isn’t, but it sure feels that way.)

Tonight it’s another hit carried out in an overpriced penthouse overlooking the northern shore. You’re in and out, don’t waste a second more than you need to. Jimin doesn’t spare a glance at the carnage left behind. Nothing he hasn’t seen a hundred times before. All blood bleeds the same, but he still wonders, foolishly, if his looks different to you. If it feels wrong when it stains your hands and seeps into your clothes.

Jimin has never been covered in your blood before, but he likes to think it would.

The two of you don’t speak until you’re in the quiet safety of yet another hotel room, chain lock thrown across the door, deadbolt secured. A small arsenal of weapons is retrieved from ankles and waistbands and cleaned and packed away meticulously. Jimin’s the one who makes the call to Namjoon, tells him in code that the job’s done. You’ve barely broken a sweat, but under the fluorescent light of the bathroom, Jimin can see a small smattering of blood just along your temple when he closes the distance between you.

Someone else’s, of course.

Anyone who made you bleed your own blood wouldn’t be a quick, clean kill. Jimin would make sure of that.

There’s less to be done about the half-inch scar in the hollow of your throat—a pearlescent reminder of the twin scar he has just below his navel; a callback to the day your devilish mouth said the words Jimin can’t stop thinking about.

“No can do, angel. Yoongi here knows I only have eyes for our Jiminie.”

Maybe it’s stupidity. Maybe it’s the feral, years-long build up that’s been simmering between the two of you—low enough to keep warm, contained enough to never evolve into a rapid boil. Maybe Jimin’s just finally desperate enough to go seeking out answers to questions he’s far too scared to put a voice to.

(Really, Jimin knows it’s adrenaline. Nothing more than chemicals. The two of you high on it, heads floating above the clouds. Powerless; or, at the very least, indifferent to stop the very clear path that’s unfolding on the ground below.)

But, god, he needs to know.

Needs answers.

Needs to know if there’s even a chance you feel it, too: the magnetic ebb and flow the two of you have been dancing around for years. If you see how fondly he looks at you. If you have any idea how easy it is for him to get lost in you. If you know he’d let someone put a bullet between his eyes before he placed his life in the hands of anyone else.

Jimin knows he loves you. He’s known it for a long time, just like he knows all those other things that are second nature to him. Loving you is easy and instinctual as much as it is painful and self-destructive.

At least that’s what he’d thought. Until your devilish mouth said those devilish words and sent him into a tailspin he’s yet to recover from.

You have to feel it. God, can’t you? The way the air crackles between you. The way his skin ignites with a simple look from you. The trembling of his fingers at his sides, desperate to just reach out and touch you—fingers that have been bathed in blood, that have taken life. Fingers that now just want to graze softly across your cheekbones, catch on your bottom lip. Fingers that want to hand you the world on a silver platter. Jimin would do anything for you, give you whatever you wanted. You wouldn’t even have to ask.

Can’t you feel that?

He needs to know.

Jimin is composed, elegant. He kills with grace and still maintains as much of his softness as he can. Isn’t ruled by emotion the way Yoongi and Jungkook are. But now, as he teeters on the edge of the unknown, all he wants to do is jump. Wants to buck all his training, all his resolve and forethought, and jump.

“Did you mean it?” he asks, voice thick. Fingers curl into the expensive silk of his shirt just so they have something to do—something to keep them from reaching out and touching you. “Back in Seoul.”

You’re the smartest person Jimin knows. When you ask, “Did I mean what, Chim?” he knows you’re fucking with him. Dragging this out. You know exactly what he’s asking and he knows you’ll never give anything away so easily.

“What you said to Taehyung,” he answers.

You tsk, eyebrows raising in intrigue. As much as Jimin trusts you, as well as you know him, know all those dirty, dirty secrets he’d never tell anyone else, he’s never been so bold with you. “That those long fingers of his would look good wrapped around my throat? Yeah, I meant that.”

Jimin’s jaw clenches at your taunt. “Don’t play games with me.”

A smirk graces your lips. “Trust me, sweetheart,” you say, voice sickly-sweet as the affection starts popping at the last seams holding him together, “if I wanted to play with you, there’s nothing you could do to stop it.”

With Jimin pressed into the wall behind you, you turn to meet his eye in the mirror. Another smile, teeth bared as you run your tongue across your lips, and this one is his undoing. Makes his cock twitch in his dress pants. Makes him bold. “Do you want to, then?” He takes a step forward—close enough to smell the gunpowder stuck to your clothes, your hair. Close enough for the sulfur and metal to sting his nostrils each time he breathes you in. “Do you want to play with me?”

You love Jimin. Maybe it’s a trauma bond or the implicit, unwavering trust the two of you have in one another, but you know you love him limitlessly. But you also know you can’t love him the way he loves you, the way he deserves to be loved by someone, which is why your mask slips as you say, “I can’t give you what you want, Jimin.”

You try to make him understand that. Really, you do—because Jimin is the smartest person you know, and you know he’s thought about every possible consequence down to the most minute detail and has decided this is worth it anyway. You want to believe in something the way Jimin believes in you, even though he’s wrong. You want something worth throwing all of this away for.

Maybe it’s Jimin, maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s just been so fucking long since someone has looked at you with any gentleness in their eyes at all that when Jimin meets your gaze and says, “I don’t want anything more than you’re willing to give,” you take his hand and jump, too.

And there’s nothing gentle about the first time.

It’s all raw, urgent need, Jimin trying desperately to convince himself it’s more than it is while you convince yourself it’s less.

It’s the two of you finally giving up and giving in, letting yourselves be pulled taut by that invisible string tying you together.

It’s Jimin’s sharp intake of breath when you fully step out of your clothes, the sight rendering him immobile. Whatever plans he’d had before seeing the curves of your body, all the scars from years of working by his side, the mottled yellow-greens and purples from the bruises lining your skin—he has no plans now. Can barely think. Wouldn’t be able to tear his eyes away from you with a gun to his head.

It’s the final bricks of the wall he’d built around himself—around his heart, around all those words and feelings he’d never put a voice to—crumbling into ash at his feet. Now he knows he can’t go back. Can’t return to a reality where this isn’t his truth. Where there’s no you and him, him and you. Where it’s just a physical exchange, a give-and-take, tit for tat.

And god, he knows he shouldn’t think like this; knows he’s keeping the truth buried somewhere deep behind lock and key.

…But now that he knows how it feels to move inside you, what else is he supposed to do?

You’re everywhere. Clenched around him. Your taste on his tongue. The feel of you on the pads of his fingers. The smell of you making a mockery of all logical thought. No—no, he can’t do a goddamn thing to stop the avalanche now it’s started.

“Fuck,” he whines, fingers digging into your hips. The soft skin he finds purchase in such a contrast from your hardened exterior, but Jimin knows. He knows you, knows the person behind the mask, sees straight through you each time it slips.

What stared back at him had always been just out of reach.

Taunting him.

Screaming come and get me, come make me yours, come and fucking take what you want.

Until now.

Now it’s tangible. Now it’s breathy, fractured moans that echo off tile walls. Now it’s the sound of his name thatleaves your lips like a prayer. Now it’s the sheen of sweat that covers both of you. Now it’s nails scraping down his back, tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck.

(And Jimin won’t tell you this, but those red welts are proof that this is real, this happened, and later on when he’s alone, when his mind is working overtime, he’ll look at them and he’ll smile. Because they’re real. Because this happened.)

Now, it’s the way blue becomes his favorite color. Because he can see his reflection in the mirror as he unravels and comes to his own demise as he spills inside of you; can see the fluorescent lights reflecting off the hue of his hair.

Jimin’s hair is blue when he realizes he’s in love with you.

[34.6037° S, 58.3816° W | Buenos Aires, ARGENTINA]

Jimin is blond when Namjoon sends you to South America.

The details had been scarce: a diplomatic advisor with a rap sheet of human rights violations that have been continuously swept under the rug and his equally-corrupt lawyer. A candid photograph paperclipped to another manila folder, Namjoon a fan of all those old cliches. Likes being a little cheeky that way when he can get away with it, because god knows he can’t get away with much, doesn’t have much of a sense of humor.

It’s a simple job. You and Jimin will have it dealt with in a matter of hours. Less if you’re lucky and the universe is agreeable. But the humidity sticks to your skin, has sweat seeping into your clothes and rolling down your temples, and if there’s one thing you can’t stand it’s the heat. Makes it hard to think. And Namjoon—Namjoon, who makes sure all of his agents want for nothing—is a cheap bastard. Rarely approves nice lodging, says it’s too risky despite your arguments to the contrary, that people don’t care what you do when you have money, so you’re stuck in some shithole motel room with an aircon unit that keeps blowing out stale, warm air.

And maybe you shouldn’t, maybe you should be more cognizant of Jimin and all his feelings, but it’s fucking hot, so you peel your shirt over your head and undo the button of your pants. Sit on the edge of the bed and try to think about anything other than the temperature, how it’s starting to prick uncomfortably at your skin.

Jimin clears his throat, keeps his eyes glued to the disgusting carpet. “Got a text from Seokjin-ssi,” he says, words strained. “Looks like they’ll be solo jobs.”

You groan. Leave it to Seokjin to change the plan at the last minute. “Tell Kim Seokjin he’s a useless piece of shit.”

“Done. Anything else?”

“Tell Kim Namjoon if he ever sends us to South America in the summer again I’ll kill him myself.”

Jimin has a laugh like an anodyne. A laugh that takes all those broken, bleeding parts of you and soothes over them like a balm. “Seokjin-ssi says he’s not passing along that particular message.”

“Tell him he’s a bitch, then.”

“He’ll kill me if I say that.”

“He hasn’t done field work in years and he’s probably too vitamin D deficient to leave the basement. He couldn’t even kill a fucking rat.”

There’s another laugh. More forced, less tinkling. You recognize it right away, the sound of anxiety. Solo jobs aren’t common for the two of you. For Yoongi and Taehyung, sure, but not you and Jimin. You’re a team for a reason, and though you’re more than capable of getting this done and out of the way, it doesn’t feel right. Settles in your gut like something rotten, knowing you’ll be without Jimin.

And you know he’s thinking it, too. How he turns the burner over and over in his hands, as if there’s some combination of words he can send back to Seoul to get Seokjin and Namjoon to reconsider. Plans don’t change often; not like this, anyway. These have been declared solos for a reason, and that’s a thought you can’t linger on too long.

“Are they leaving it up to us?” Jimin nods, still not meeting your eye. “Do you have a preference?”

He shrugs, tossing the phone on the small table in the corner. Nothing else to be done. “Not really. What do you think?”

“Nah, don’t care, either. Just toss me one.”

Santiago Aguirre… 47 years old… Resides in a high-rise luxury apartment in Retiro…

Your eyes skim the file, study the black and white photograph of the lawyer. Read over the list of all his high-profile, degenerate clients and all their high-profile crimes. You read about the previous attempts on his life, the seemingly never-ending list of people who want him dead. Your eyes go back to his photograph, frowning at the smug look on his face. What stares back at you is a man who thinks he’s invincible, who thinks a penthouse apartment on the top floor and a security team in the lobby means he’s impervious to harm. A man who has made money off people just like him: dirty, corrupt, hands stained red.

“Okay?” Jimin asks, looking up from his own file.

He’s so striking. So safe. And you know what he’s done, giving you the hit he thinks is easier, willing to risk himself on a solo mission to ensure you make it out. There’s no guarantees in this line of work, in life in general, but Jimin’s brand of selfless love is certainly one.

So you just nod, knowing someone slimy like this can quickly go sideways, and decide you can do the same.

“I’m gonna get ready,” you say. “The plan is the same as all the other solo jobs. Get in, get it done, get out as quickly as possible. Lay low. Don’t come straight back here.”

Jimin rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Anything else?”

You exhale. Try to quiet the nerves roiling in your stomach. Barely resist the urge to press a lingering kiss to Jimin’s forehead before you swallow hard and say, “Yeah. Stay alive.”

It comes out more like a plea.

—

You’re good at your job.

Rarely feel much guilt over it, either, which—well, you’re not sure what that means. That something is permanently broken in your psyche, probably. Being able to take life so easily and without remorse. It’s not natural.

Kim Namjoon is a man who plays God, is the one who decides who gets to live and who has to die. His word is the only law you adhere to. And that’s… that’s something. Makes it less burdensome, takes some weight off, because Kim Namjoon wouldn’t accept a morally-ambiguous job. He wouldn’t ask you to put your life on the line for some petty bullshit.

This is how you’ve lived for the last four years. Four years of blindly following Namjoon’s word, of being a good little soldier and doing whatever is asked of you. Four years of being responsible for not only your own life, but Jimin’s as well, just as he is for yours. Four years that have served you well, all things considered.

Until now.

Something about this job hits you hard. Doesn’t settle quite as quickly as the ones that have come before. For the first time, you’d looked down at the lifeless body at your feet and couldn’t stop the trembling, could barely quell the nausea. Thought what the fuck am I doing, what kind of life is this for the first time. Thought back to that day four years ago when Kim Namjoon saved your life and offered you a job and wondered, for the first time, what would’ve happened if you’d said no.

Now, as you suck on a cigarette, legs dangling off the roof of a building looking not far from collapse, a new thought:

Would Namjoon let you go if you asked?

He’s taken care of you. For four years you’ve wanted for nothing. Have socked away more money than you’ll ever be able to spend, even if you live to a thousand. You could go anywhere, become anyone, and no one would suspect a thing. There’d just be you and a million lifetimes’ worth of transgressions, alone under the weight of all that burden; alone, except for all the ghosts that come to greet you every time you close your eyes.

Doesn’t matter. Namjoon might be willing to let you go, give you the chance to salvage something from this life in the name of normalcy, but Yoongi would gladly put a bullet in your head before he let you disappear with all his secrets.

Doesn’t matter.

You stub out the cigarette and put the butt in your pocket. Make your way down to the street. Stay under the shadows—just visible enough to redirect any suspicion shot your way. You pretend to take a call, flawless Argentinian Spanish falling from your lips as you tell the imaginary person on the other end all about your fucked up day at work. How your manager never gets off your ass, doesn’t trust you, thinks you’re too fucking stupid to run a simple executable.

No one spares you a second glance.

Not here, on this nondescript street in a nondescript Argentinian neighborhood, and not when you stumble into the tiny lobby of your shithole motel. The poor kid behind the desk doesn’t even glance up, just mutters a good evening, miss under his breath that you return in a voice far too high-pitched to be your own.

Better to be seen and be unremarkable than draw attention to yourself trying to stay invisible, you figure.

The cameras in the stairwell are broken so you take the steps two at a time. Pull the room key from its place inside your boot, happy to no longer have it digging into your skin. Pause just long enough to make sure you don’t hear anything on the other side of the door before you’re unlocking it with your free hand wrapped around the trigger of your gun.

It’s empty.

Of course it is.

Jimin stashed the burner in a place no one but you would think to look. You text one simple word to Seokjin—Hey!—and you get two in return: Who’s this?

You know who it is, you fucking dickhead.

It takes a few seconds, but the reply is a simple—

Sorry.

Then you toss aside the phone and float in the darkness of the room. There’s nothing to do but wait, because you don’t dare to do anything alone. There’s sweat and blood and fuck knows what else stuck to your skin, your hair, but you can’t risk taking a shower. Can’t risk the water dampening your senses. Can’t risk being cornered in a moldy bathroom, only one way out. Can’t risk doing anything alone. Can’t take a fucking shower.

It’s this thought, more than anything else, that has your body flushing with rage.

What kind of life is this?

Namjoon had never mentioned repaying your debt. He’d never insinuated you owed him anything at all for saving your life, but you know something like that never comes for free. Namjoon doesn’t do anything just because. Has no goodness in his heart to do anything in the name of it. Watching Jimin nearly die in front of him had been the exception to his usual nature; a rare slip-up by an otherwise detached, uncaring man.

Still, whatever you owe him has surely been repaid by now. Tenfold, if the bloodstains along your collar are anything to go by.

It’s time for Namjoon to let you go.

—

Something is wrong.

Two hours have ticked by and there’s no word from Jimin. No word from Namjoon or Seokjin, either, which is the only reason you’re still in this nauseating motel room and not out on the streets searching for him. Solo jobs don’t go like this. The two of you are always in and out, tragically efficient. Back to where you started and then back on a plane, nothing left behind except a singular bullet hole and another fragmented piece of your conscience.

You’ve had a lot of jobs go wrong, but never two hours.

You’re about three minutes from coming out of your skin. Sick to your stomach with worry, anxiety weighing you down like an anchor. You wouldn’t be able to go out searching for Jimin like this even if you could, and there’s no point in dwelling on that, examining it further. All you can do is wait.

It’s another hour before you hear the click of the lock. You’re nearly on your knees in relief, but you stay rooted to the flimsy mattress. Try not to think about how you’ll have to sleep on it, even though you’ll be up half the night with residual worry. All those lingering ghosts.

Jimin doesn’t say anything, so neither do you.

[55.6761° N, 12.5683° E | Copenhagen, DENMARK]

Jimin’s hair is orange when you go to Copenhagen.

Not for a job, just to breathe. You wanted to see the city at Christmastime; Jimin’s never been.

You crack a joke. Point out buildings of similar color, have him stand in front of one as you take a picture. Everyone smiles when they pass the two of you on the street, Jimin’s eyes fond even though he rolls them as you pose him how you want. Still stands against an apricot-colored wall and flashes a smile and a peace sign, cheeks pink from the cold. Does a good job of pretending the two of you aren’t here just for fun, that this is something more.

It’s not.

The two of you fucked in a hotel room in Reykjavik and haven’t spoken a word of it since.

You nearly lost your mind over him in Buenos Aires and haven’t spoken a word of that, either.

Instead, his hand finds yours as the two of you walk around Tivoli Gardens. You marvel at the lights and Jimin marvels at you. You share mulled wine and spiced doughnuts. Jimin tries to drag you on the swings but you plant your feet and refuse, laughing through your refusals. As dangerous as your lives are, motion sickness might be the most. He gets his revenge and poses you in front of a giant nutcracker, then again in front of one of the endless Christmas trees.

Jimin pays for the two of you to decorate honey cakes. You’re surrounded by families with shrieking children and palpable adoration, and it’s all you can do not to wonder if anyone you’ve taken out had ever had something like this. Something that makes your soul warm; something that still lingers in your bones years later.

The two of you take a selfie when it starts to snow. It stings when you have no one to send it to, so it just lives in your phone. Maybe it’s enough.

On another day, Jimin holds your hand through Torvehallerne. This time you marvel at him while he marvels at all the food, eyes wide each time he turns to ask if he should buy something. You always say yes and he always shares, and it’s all you can do not to think about why you don’t have to budget yourselves. Why you’re able to walk through the market and buy whatever you want; how you could buy every item for sale and it wouldn’t make a dent.

(You pick up small trinkets for Taehyung and Jungkook. Not because you want to, but because it feels nicer than remembering that you have no one to buy gifts for. Not really. Not anymore.)

Jimin wants to ice skate, so you do. He holds your hand then, too. More out of necessity than anything else, and he has none of his usual grace. Someone hands you a free cup of hot chocolate, just because. Jimin pouts and then it’s his hot chocolate. It’s all you can do not to kiss away the whipped cream on the corner of his mouth.

Back in your lavish hotel, after countless days have blurred together and Jimin’s fresh from a shower, skin flushed, you finally ask yourself if it’s worth putting up such a fight. If it’s really all that bad to care for Jimin and be cared for in return. If it’s all that bad to be someone else, just for a little while: someone with a normal life who makes a normal living and has a normal capability to love. Someone who isn’t damaged beyond repair.

That will never be you. Not fully, and certainly not in this lifetime, but maybe it could be, a little.

“Jimin,” you say, because you need to try. Jimin loves you in ways you’ll never understand, and you want to be better for him. “We should talk.”

Your voice is small and hesitant, and Jimin hates it. Sees trouble where there’s only vulnerability, so he misreads. Shakes his head. Takes a risk and stands between your legs at the edge of the bed—yours, because there’s two—as he tilts your head back, thumbs pressing into the contours of your cheeks. The scar still sits in the hollow of your throat, and that version of you feels so far away. That life feels so far away.

There’s no violence here. There’s no blood, no fugues. There’s just you and Jimin, whose voice is small like yours when he shakes his head and says, “You should kiss me instead.”

The second time is nothing like the first.

Jimin moves delicately. Feels like silk lace, tastes like spun sugar. Moves both his mouth and his body fluidly, no hesitation, yet he still takes his time. Still pauses to look at you with endless devotion; with awed reverence. Makes a map of your body and marks all his favorite places with his lips.

“Tell me what you want,” he says. Speaks the words against the skin just beneath your ear. “Anything. I’ll give you whatever you want, just have to ask.”

What you want isn’t tangible, isn’t possible, so you stay quiet. Thread your fingers through Jimin’s hair, gasp when he mouths along the column of your throat. Jimin reserves all his softness for you. Bathes you in it. Would kill anyone to keep it that way.

So you say, “Want your mouth,” and let slip a quiet moan when he gives you what you’ve asked for. When he situates himself between your thighs and sucks and licks until you’re writhing, making a mess, grasping fruitlessly at the sheets, his hair, his shoulders, only calming when his hands find yours and your fingers interlock.

Jimin mouths at you until you’re trembling. Until you’re needy and desperate, hips moving on their own, fucking yourself against his face. Until nothing exists except the heat in your belly, the stars behind your eyelids, the heady, fucked-out sound of Jimin’s voice as he talks you through it, murmurs praise against your cunt.

Jimin mouths at you until you forget.

This isn’t your life. This is not something you can have.

But, in the grand scheme of things, what does it matter? You’ve made peace with death, and there’s only one of two ways it’s going to come for you in the end: by Namjoon’s hand or someone else’s. So what does it matter?

This time, Jimin fucks you slow. Kisses you with your taste still in his mouth. Thumbs over a hardened nipple just to see what earns him a reaction, and what you truly want is more time—something else that’s impossible.

Jimin’s hair is orange when you think you might be in love with him.

[ 48.8566° N, 2.3522° E | Paris, FRANCE ]

Jimin’s hair is pink when—

“Sit,” he says, gesturing to the toilet.

Soaks a washcloth in warm water. Wrings it out. Stands in front of you, and there’s water dripping onto the floor and Jimin doesn’t care, doesn’t seem to see anything in this moment except for you, your hands covered in someone else’s blood, and he reaches out, gently grabs your wrist. Palm up. Someone else’s blood. Everything smells like copper and iron. Looks too surreal beneath the fluorescent lights of this hotel bathroom for your mind to make sense of it.

There is care in the way Jimin cleans your hands. There is tenderness in the way he both refuses to see what you really are and the way he’s the only one to ever see you so entirely, when you look down at the blood he’s washing away and all you can see is stigmata. When all you see is sin.

“I know you don’t love me,” he says, and there is a conviction in his words that stuns you into silence. “Not the way I love you, anyway.”

That tenderness is still there as he says this. As he presses the wet fabric into the meat of your palm, wipes the stains away, and the warmth is as calming as it is undeserved. It feels like something forbidden. It feels like salvation and condemnation all at once, like whatever sick depravity permeates you is contagious, will take over Jimin, too, just from touching you.

Jimin is close enough to reach out and touch. Close enough to see the violence that he exists in alongside you: the rips in his clothes, the scars that decorate his skin. Close enough to know he smells sickly-sweet, just like death. Your hand shakes as it reaches for him and never follows through. Doesn’t want to contaminate him.

“I do,” you finally say. Whatever is in your voice is not conviction. “I can’t.” You suck in a breath, try to steady your breathing. This is where it all comes crashing down, you think, because in all the years you’ve done Namjoon’s bidding, you’ve never cried. You can take life so freely and without thought, but you cannot love Jimin. “Someone like me isn’t capable of it.”

Jimin pauses, the washcloth stuck in the space between your ring and middle fingers. “And who is someone like you?”

Water is still dripping to the floor. Serosanguineous: blood tainting something untouched. Not something one thing or another but both, watery-pink. Looks like Jimin’s hair. “I’ve killed a lot of people,” you answer. “More than I can count. More than I can name. More than the ones that come to haunt me at night.” Your free hand moves to your chest, covers your heart. “There’s nothing here, Jimin. I’m not sure there ever was.”

The washcloth drops to the floor, and all that blood belonging to a man whose name you never bothered to learn before you put a bullet between his eyes finds a new place to rest. “I think,” he begins, clasping your unclean hand in his own, voice dropping to a whisper, “you forget, sometimes.” You gasp as he places your palm to his cheek, drags it across his face, smears a stranger’s blood across his skin. “That we’re the same.”

Jimin is always overwhelming, but the love he has for you is even more so. It consumes you entirely, embeds itself beneath your skin, makes a home, would tear you apart, body and soul, to return to him.

[ 47.4979° N, 19.0402° E | Budapest, HUNGARY ]

Jimin’s hair is lavender when it all goes to shit.

“You’re being followed.”

Seokjin’s voice is garbled through the earpiece, tinny and metallic, and you roll your eyes. Some things don’t need to be said, because you’ve known someone was following you for the last three blocks. Average height, black peacoat, close-cropped haircut. Not the kind of person that’d stand out here, and that’s exactly why you’d sent Jimin in the other direction.

“No shit,” you respond in Hungarian, because you already know the man following you doesn’t speak or understand it. “Give me somewhere to go.”

It takes Seokjin a few moments to run the translation. “There’s a side street up on your right,” he answers. “It’s tight, but there’s an alleyway at the end. You can buy some time if you’re quick.”

“Where’s Jimin?”

You pass a vendor selling lángos and duck into the street behind the stall. Just as Seokjin had said, there’s a small alleyway up on the left, and your footfall is near-silent as you break into a sprint to reach it. “Safe,” is all Seokjin says.

You take a second to steady your breathing, knowing you’re good on time—the man following you was close enough to know where you’d turned, but, if you’re lucky, not much after that. That plays on a loop: if you’re lucky, if you’re lucky, if you’re lucky. What is luck, what does it look like, in a life left entirely to chance? In a life with no guarantees?

You tuck yourself away, focus on Seokjin’s metallic breaths. Think about his basement in Seoul, why he’s in it. Ask, “What happened in Addis Ababa?” because it feels important to know.

There’s not much you know about Seokjin’s life. Whatever happened in Ethiopia had been before your time, reduced to hushed whispers and gossip fodder after your arrival. No one spoke of it, Seokjin especially, but every now and then something would slip in the same way weeds grow in sidewalk cracks.

A job gone wrong. A bombing at the consulate with Seokjin inside.

His reply is simple, words spoken carefully: “I loved someone once, too.”

He can’t see it, but you nod nonetheless; an answer that doesn’t require a response, because you know. It’s enough to fill in the rest. What Seokjin’s trauma looks like. Why he doesn’t do field work anymore. Why he prefers the solitude of the basement, rarely a sound beyond the electric thrum of the server racks.

Who had gone in to retrieve him, and why Yoongi has the scar over his eye.

“You loved someone,” you conclude, “and he would’ve been willing to die for you.”

“Yes,” Seokjin says, and it’s like the word’s been punched out of him. Sounds like something repressed, something left to rot in the darkest corner of the world.

Love, to Seokjin, looks and sounds the same as death.

“I think most people spend their entire lives searching for a love like that,” he continues, and if you could see him you think he might look dazed, off-kilter. You think he might be an avatar. Seokjin is prying his ribcage apart, unwrapping the barbed wire from his heart, saying I once was in love and this is all I know of it. “But, to me, in this life, it’s a prison. Once someone is willing to die for you, how do you keep them alive? How do you—I kissed that skin. I worshiped it. I pressed my lips to it with whatever softness was left in me. How do you look at that same skin and know you’re the reason it’s mangled?” He exhales, all tremor. “You can’t. You can’t.”

You know this all too well. You know what it feels like to look at Jimin and know, intrinsically and subconsciously, that you wouldn’t even hesitate. You’d take and give life to keep him alive and safe. You know that when you exit this world at someone else’s hand his face is the last thing you want to see.

You know it’s a liability.

You know it’s a target painted on your back. Between your eyes.

You know there’s nothing left to say, that this particular conversation has run its course. The two of you sit in an amicable silence, and you hope Seokjin can hear the life that surrounds you, however mundane. Hope he can hear the lángos vendor trying to hawk his goods; hope he can hear a city 8,000 kilometers away; hope he can hear these regular, everyday people going about their lives and remember there’s hope beyond his four walls.

I think you’d like it here, you think, but you don’t dare to say it aloud.

Time passes in a meaningless blur. Could be minutes, could be hours. No one’s come to kill you, so you reckon you’ve long since been in the clear. And maybe it speaks to Seokjin’s idea that love is a prison, because you know something’s happened to Jimin long before Seokjin speaks it into existence.

You’re up and out of the alleyway before you’re told to move. Have no idea where you’re going, but you’re racing through the streets of Budapest with a panic you haven’t ever felt in your life. Feels like quicksand; feels like molasses; feels like you have to wade through all the blood you’ve spilled, now congealed, to get to him.

“Where am I going?” you demand. Your lungs are on fire. In the split-second of silence it becomes a desperate scream. “Seokjin, tell me where the fuck I’m going!”

“The—fuck, the wa-warehouse up on your right.” You can’t think about why he’s crying. “I don’t—I don’t know wha-what’s there, you need to be careful. Please, you have to—”

Twenty seconds and you’ll be there, you’ll be with Jimin, you just need to keep running. You need to keep your head on straight. Remember your training. Remember you’ve built a life in a viper pit.

A man in a uniform is unloading a shipment around the back of the building. Faces away from you, bent at the waist. Takes very little effort to smash his head into the stone exterior and knock him unconscious, pocket his badge. You can’t get stupid now. Tell Seokjin to make sure all the cameras are cut, ask what floor when you shut yourself inside the freight elevator, unwilling to take the stairs and run into anyone who might be waiting. All the way to the top, he says, so all the way to the top you go.

—

Over the course of your life, you’ve made peace with death. Have stared it in the eye more times than you can count. Have dealt it out, evaded it, shook its hand.

You are wholly unprepared for the sight that greets you.

Red. Everything is red—the walls, the floor, what used to be a beautiful parquet pattern in the wood. In the center of the room: two bodies, maybe three. Not much that’d be able to identify them beyond a pile of teeth, no saying whose is whose. Slaughterhouse scraps.

And this is not—Jimin doesn’t work this way. Isn’t his MO. Jimin’s kills are elegant and neat, topped with a bow. What you see before you is ultraviolence. It is unhinged, it is fury, it is a complete loss of control. It’s what love looks like to Jimin, because he sits at the very edge of a rotted chair, legs crossed. Face streaked with blood, clothes covered in it.

“Jimin,” you say, because what else is there?

He tilts his head to the side, smirks a little, looks at you beneath his lashes. Eyes that used to find you across a room and calm you. Eyes that have locked onto you in the throes of pleasure. Eyes you’ve seen yourself reflected in, bathed in love and adoration.

Eyes that now contain nothing.

“Jimin, what the fuck happened?”

He removes his gloves with his teeth and doesn’t flinch away from the taste of iron. “They said they hurt you,” he states simply, “so I did what needed to be done.”

“What—” Nausea claws at your throat; for the first time, it’s all too much. This isn’t Jimin. This isn’t your Jimin, who smiled as you posed him against apricot walls in Copenhagen, who took a bullet to the stomach to protect you and never, ever told you. This is not the Jimin who wasted the last of his goodwill on loving you. “What did you do?” you whisper.

He rises to full height and it makes you flinch. You are scared of Jimin for the first time in your life: scared of who he is in this moment, what he’s capable of. And he sees it, lets that brand of anguish overtake him. Reaches for you before he decides against it and lets his hand drop to his side. Says, “I would never hurt you,” as if the words could brand themselves into your skin so you’d never forget.

“No, you’d just—” You squeeze your eyes shut. Don’t think about how one of the men nearly embedded into the floor was the one trailing you earlier.

Instead, you think about Seokjin: Once someone is willing to die for you, how do you keep them alive? You think about: How do you look at that same skin and know you’re the reason it’s mangled? You think about: In this life, it’s a prison.

You drop to your knees. Let the blood seep through your clothes and into your skin, undeserving of shying away from it.

Namjoon should’ve let you go.

You think about the men in front of you. Who they were, who they loved. The grief all of this is going to leave behind, and it becomes impossible to breathe. You grasp at your throat, think about all the times you’ve been strangled and who’d been there to cut the rope. There is no limit to Jimin’s devotion, and you understand now, how it drove Yoongi to madness. How he loved someone so much he would’ve retrieved their corpse from a building and how that same person can no longer bear to look at the damage they’d caused.

“This isn’t love, Jimin,” you choke out.

He stands in front of you. Stigmata. You’re worshiping at the altar of some kind of devil. At least his hands are clean when he places his fingers beneath your chin, forces you to look up at him. “What is it, then?”

“Destruction.”

A quiet huff of cruel laughter. “See, this is the difference between me and you, darling.” He takes back his hand, runs it through his blood-streaked hair, and your chin sags to your chest without his support. “Because I already knew that. Because I have destroyed myself every single day loving you.” He squats down, eye-level, and he says, “I need you to listen to me when I say this, sweetheart: you do not love me the way I love you, because I would do worse. When it comes to you, there is nothing on this earth I would not destroy to keep you safe.”

He clears his throat. Collects whatever’s in his mouth and spits onto one of the bodies. “If this is enough to have you tucking your fucking tail between your legs, then go, because this doesn’t even scratch the fucking surface.”

You can’t bring yourself to say anything, and sometimes that says it all.

Jimin presses a kiss to the top of your head. Makes a call. Cleaners will be here soon, he says, better get going.

You watch him go.

[ 37.5665° N, 126.9780° E | Seoul, SOUTH KOREA ]

Jimin’s hair is black when Namjoon calls the meeting.

He takes the seat across from Namjoon’s desk because they don’t meet like this often. Assignments are usually manila folders slipped under doors, hushed whispers in hallways confirmed with a nod or a text on a burner phone. Assignments are not last-minute assemblies in conference rooms and offices.

But the way Namjoon is looking at him, with his clenched jaw and a gaze that’s meant to look barbed to anyone who doesn’t actually know him—Jimin doesn’t need to ask what this is about.

Had he bothered to look, he would’ve known by the way you stood in the far corner of the room, face obscured by the mid-afternoon shadows. Yoongi’s close to you, for some reason: dressed head to toe in black, perched on a lateral file cabinet, using a metal corner to sharpen his switchblade. Just like a harbinger of death. Some sort of fucked up omen, a warning that’s come too late.

Didn’t I tell you this would end badly, he hears Yoongi taunt in his head. This is what happens when you lay with trash.

Easy for Yoongi to say when he doesn’t know what it means to be cared for by you. Doesn’t know how it feels to give in to the freefall and plummet at your feet, stripped back and laid bare. Doesn’t know how it feels to kiss secrets into your skin like constellations, to map his tongue along every unspoken confession.

Easy for Yoongi to say, because he doesn’t have to survive the aftermath. Doesn’t have to feel the heartbreak, the agony of having you and watching as you slip through his fingers. Yoongi doesn’t have to struggle just to breathe, doesn’t have to endure the nights staring at the ceiling, watching as the daylight creeps into the corners of his vision. Doesn’t have to watch you looking so unaffected.

“Jimin.” Namjoon’s tone is flat, needlelike.

Behind him, Yoongi chuckles lowly. “What?” Jimin asks, his gaze trained on the painting behind Namjoon’s head. Looks like one he’d seen in Berlin, the time the two of you had gone just because and spent an afternoon ducking in and out of museums to escape the rain.

When he closes his eyes, he still sees the raindrops stuck to your eyelashes. The beads of water rolling off the sleeves of your leather jacket. How blinding your smile had been. The laughter in your voice as you ordered beer after beer after beer for the two of you in flawless Berlinisch. A brief, fleeting glimpse at normalcy. At the kind of life the two of you could have if you were just… different. Lived different lives. Were different people.

“You’ve gotten sloppy.”

Namjoon’s words are a cold bucket of water. Snap him back to reality, yank him back to the present where he’s forced to leave those river-lined streets behind. You’re silent and Yoongi’s still snorting laughter. “Okay,” is all Jimin can bring himself to say.

Jin had gotten sloppy once, too, and Namjoon stuck him down in the basement to work logistics. Might not be so bad, Jimin reckons. He’d be away from you, spared of this fucking misery. “So you know that’s unacceptable.”

Jimin just shrugs, resigned to his fate, whatever it may be. “I’m reassigning the both of you,” Namjoon continues. “You’ll both have new partners for your next assignments, since you clearly can no longer be trusted together.”

“Who?” Jimin manages to choke out.

Namjoon raises an eyebrow, clearly having expected an argument. “You’re being sent to Shanghai with Jungkook. You,” he says, turning his attention to you, “are going to Moscow with Taehyung.”

She’s fond of Taehyung, Jimin wants to say. But you’d been fond of him too, once upon a time, and that’d only ended in heartbreak, so who fucking cares.

They’re cruel, the tricks Jimin’s mind plays on him. How he convinces himself you look pained. How his fingers wring together at the thought of entrusting his life in the hands of someone else, someone new. At your life being just as at stake; at Taehyung being tasked with keeping you alive. Would you die for him, too, the way you’d always told Jimin you would for him? Would Taehyung take a bullet to the stomach to keep you safe the way Jimin had?

Even more cruel is the way you scoff, pushing yourself off of the wall as you fold your arms across your chest and say, “That’s bullshit, Kim Namjoon.”

No one talks to Namjoon that way except you.

Yoongi’s knife stops twirling. Just like a bird sensing a storm, senses on high-alert as he flicks his gaze over to you. “I’m sorry?” Namjoon says. “What part of Jimin losing his mind and nearly outing all of us seems like bullshit to you?”

“Hm, let me think,” you retort, a manicured finger tapping against the hollow of your cheek. “The part where you’re reassigning me for someone else’s mistake?”

Which part was the mistake? Jimin wants to ask. Needs to know how much you regret. Was sleeping with you the mistake? Falling in love with you? Getting too caught up in all these daydreams and letting reality get away from him?

“This organization is more important than Park Jimin getting his goddamn dick wet,” Namjoon snaps. “Keeping all of you safe—keeping you alive—is more—”

You scoff. Take an entire container of gasoline and pour it right on top of Namjoon’s flammable ire. “Then perhaps you’d be so kind as to explain to me why Min fucking Yoongi can fuck damn near everyone in this establishment, yet I have to sit here and listen to your goddamn mouth—”

Jimin doesn’t think Yoongi even knows his arm is moving.

There’d just been the trading of barbed words. His own name being spoken into the ether. Yoongi’s arm moving away from his body, switchblade clasped tightly between his fingers as he plunges it into your flesh.

Jimin watches it puncture your arm in slow motion. Feels the bile in his throat, the heat in his belly. Looks first at Namjoon whose jaw has gone slack, skin pale, as he stammers over words that won’t come. Then he looks at Yoongi—expects to find shock or guilt but finds only a muted disinterest and flared nostrils.

Finally, he looks at you. Watches the white cotton sleeve of your shirt slowly turn red and sticky-wet. Watches as your lips move around syllables and vowels and consonants Jimin can’t decipher.

“—fucking piece of shit, this is my favorite shirt! I’ll never get all this goddamn blood out of it—”

Jimin thinks he hears Yoongi say you deserve it. But Jimin isn’t really thinking much as he clambers out of his chair and moves in Yoongi’s direction. Doesn’t think at all as he lets instinct take over, lets adrenaline steer him headfirst into yet another bad idea.

He’s always known there’d come a day he’d be face-to-face with the sight of your blood. Had always known it’d come from someone else’s hand. Had always promised himself that hurting you would be the last thing anyone ever did.

Jimin has his fingers wrapped around Yoongi’s throat and he finally understands it—the joy Yoongi finds in taking life.

“What’s the matter, Jimin-ah?” Yoongi taunts. Jimin tightens his grip. Suddenly hates that fucking scar across Yoongi’s eye. “You’re never on clean-up duty. Always make your girlfriend do the dirty work. Finally grew some fucking balls, huh?”

“Fuck you,” Jimin says stupidly. Can’t think of anything more to say. Not that he needs to. Wrapping your hands around someone’s throat sends enough of a message, he thinks.

Namjoon’s still tongue-tied as you yank Yoongi’s blade from your arm, immediately pressing your other hand over the wound to stem the bleeding. The sight of your blood is making Jimin dizzy; the smell of the iron hanging in the air. All he wants to do is choke the life out of the man in front of him, but more than that, he just wants to hold your hand. Wants to comfort you, even though he knows you don’t need it. Not from him, not from anyone, but he still wants to. Wants to press his lips to the sweat at your brow.

And Yoongi can see it, too, because he starts laughing. It’s an odd, fractured noise. Jimin isn’t sure if he’s ever heard him laugh before, decides he also hates the way it sounds. Feels all wrong watching it leave his crooked smirk. Makes Jimin’s stomach plummet to the ground.

“Oh, you’re fucked, aren’t you?” Yoongi teases around Jimin’s slackened grip. “You weren’t just fucking her, you’re in love with her.”

Weird how Jimin is the one with his hands around someone’s neck and feels like he’s the one suffocating.

[ 31.2304° N, 121.4737° E | Shanghai, CHINA ]

Jimin watches the life drain from an innocent woman’s face and feels nothing.

Jimin watches Jungkook cut a man down and feels even less.

When it’s over, he cleans up wordlessly and doesn’t eat for three days.

[ 37.5665° N, 126.9780° E | Seoul, SOUTH KOREA ]

Jimin’s hair has faded to brown by the time he returns from Shanghai.

The more complicated job had gone to you and Taehyung. Jimin had tried not to take it personally. The Russian hits are always unnecessarily violent and Jungkook still isn’t fully trained. There’s still a phantom pain in Jimin’s stomach that warns him of the consequences of taking on more than he can chew. So, sure, Shanghai had gone fine, but his mind had been nearly 7,000 kilometers away the entire time.

Good thing he’d returned to Seoul unscathed, too, because he’s sure Namjoon would’ve eliminated him without a moment’s hesitation if he’d fucked up again.

But Shanghai had only served to prove the leader right. Jimin can’t work with you anymore. Can’t focus, can’t stomach the violence, can’t keep his goddamn head on straight.

He sighs as he glances at Jungkook to his right. Jimin had watched him murder two men in cold blood not even thirty-six hours ago and now he’s doe-eyed and sucking down his third banana milk of the morning. It really makes his head spin, being paired with this grown-up infant of a man now instead of you, but for all of Jungkook’s apparent shortcomings, he’d kept Jimin alive. He isn’t dead.

And then you walk in with Taehyung and he wishes he was.

Because you’re laughing and Taehyung’s got his arm slung around your shoulder and you look happy. It’s the kind of happiness that should be contagious, bloom warmth in his chest, but it doesn’t. It just takes the last frayed strand of hope he has and sets flame to it.

You don’t look like you miss Jimin at all. Don’t look like you’ve lost sleep or skipped meals.

“Didn’t take you long, did it?” Jimin says, because he’s wounded and lashing out. Not because he means it.

You must know he doesn’t, too, because you don’t react. “Watch your mouth, Park Jimin,” Taehyung warns, because he doesn’t know, and this only sets Jimin off more. You don’t need defending. Or had you, and Jimin had simply thought it wasn’t his place to provide it? That you wouldn’t want it?

“Or what, Kim Taehyung?”

Taehyung is cherubic. It’s part of his charm, one of many reasons why he’s so effective. If you’re looking to die, you look for the guy who looks like Yoongi, not the one who smiles wide and warm like Taehyung. So when he sets his jaw and pokes his tongue into his cheek and says, “Or I’ll cut your fucking head off, you stupid fuck,” your attention is finally piqued.

“I’m so sick of this,” Jungkook wails, banana milk tossed carelessly in the trash. “All of you need to get your fucking shit together!”

Taehyung rolls his eyes at the same time you pretend to inspect your nails. “Is that why you’re so temperamental, Chim?” Taehyung prods, looking every bit the pretentious, murderous angel he is. “Because you got sent to China on a babysitting mission while the grownups did real work?”

“Fuck you,” Jungkook snaps, rising to full height. “I’m not a fucking child.”

“Oh? Could’ve fooled me.” Taehyung’s words are razor-sharp and smell like kerosene. “Tell me, then: were you on babysitting duty? Had to look after our precious little Jiminie while he nursed his broken heart?”

You sigh, full of faux-exasperation, and place a gentle hand on Taehyung’s forearm. Dig your nails in just enough to be a warning, and if Jimin hadn’t been looking he’d miss it: the way Taehyung deflates instantly, anger dissipating like smoke, back in control. Just because you’d touched him. Just because you were there. Jimin knows that touch, how it feels to be under your control, and it makes his chest ache. Makes everything feel like it’s sitting wrong in his stomach, and he’s either going to be sick all over Namjoon’s overpriced fucking rug or wrap his hands around Taehyung’s throat the way he’d done to Yoongi.

He’s out of his goddamned mind; he feels untethered. Helpless. Like it was always going to end like this, and maybe Jimin knew that and had just ignored it. Maybe now he’s paying the price—maybe he’s finally found something he can’t afford.

Jungkook’s still going off, nasty gaze set on Taehyung because he’s the only one playing along. They’re exchanging words Jimin can’t make heads nor tails of. Words he doesn’t care about. Words that ring empty and hollow because they sound nothing like the way you say his name. Shapeless, unlike the way your lips move around those syllables.

“Jimin,” you say, the sound finally registering and bringing him back down to earth. All he can do is stare. “Can we talk?” Taehyung and Jungkook are still trading barbs.

Wonders how he got here. Looks around the room and wonders if each and every one of them is destined for this same fate, this madness. Wants to tell you why he forgot his vest, why he was three hours late in Argentina. Wants to grovel and beg and leave this place and never look back.

More than anything, he wants to know what it feels like to actually be human.

So he shakes his head. Tries not to be haunted by the way your face falls at the rejection.

There is a scar on his abdomen and a scar on your arm that both tell the same story. There is a man in the basement who is in love with a man above ground and is too weighed down by guilt to do anything about it. There is a man here who plays god, has soldiers to do his bidding, and there is very little here that Jimin has only for himself.

The two of you will have that conversation, but he needs to be human, first.

[ 34.6901° N, 135.1956° E | Kobe, JAPAN ]

This is a waste of your fucking time.

Whatever Namjoon had thought would be here doesn’t seem to exist. Yoongi can barely tolerate you on a good day, threatens to stick a dagger in your neck at least twice an hour, but the more time the two of you waste chasing ghosts, the closer he comes to unraveling entirely.

“Stop fucking staring at me,” he snaps, blowing the smoke of his cigarette right in your face.

You tut. “But you’re so beautiful, Yoongi, I just can’t help it.”

He digs his switchblade from his boot. Makes a show of flipping it open. “I can cut your fuckin’ eyes out of your skull,” he intones. “Maybe that’ll help.”

In your ear, Jimin’s laughter rings like crystal.

Ricochets off of all the corners of Seokjin’s basement, makes the echo sound warped through the earpiece. “Please tell Yoongi-ssi to keep an eye on the man with the shaved head. In front of him, roughly sixty degrees to his right.”

You relay the message. Watch as Yoongi transforms—sharpened gaze, rigid posture, disappears into the shadows. More apex predator than man. “And me?” you ask.

“Backup,” comes Seokjin’s voice. “We haven’t found your mark yet.”

You hum. Pick up the cigarette Yoongi left behind and stick it between your lips. Smoke it nearly to the filter. “You got it, boss,” you tease, just because it flusters him.

“I’m—that’s not—knock it off.”

Exhale. Stub out the cigarette. Butt in your pocket. “Anything else?”

“Yeah,” Jimin says, and his voice is soft, sounds like spun sugar. “Stay alive, all right?”

Jimin’s hair isn’t dyed at all.

if you've read this far: thank you so, so much! i am more appreciative than i can put into words. this is very different from what i typically write, but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless.

i would love to hear your thoughts if you have any. <3

#jimin x reader #jimin smut #bts x reader #bts smut #jimin imagine #jimin scenarios #jimin fanfic #jimin x you #jimin x y/n #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts x you #bts x y/n

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keisobe · 2 years ago

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THE HCS OF READER PLAYING WITH NETEYAM AND LO’AK’S HANDS WERE SO CUTE OMG.

perhaps you can do hcs for neteyam and lo’ak where the reader gets slightly jealous bc they’re spending more time with another girl? i wonder how they would react…

tysm!

── ◝✩ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒 (𝐀𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐑 𝟐)

characters. lo’ak sully + neteyam sully

notes. okay so i love angsty jealousy tropes A LOT. especially when the reader is the one jealous so thank you for requesting this anon! i hope i did the sully boys justice ^^ + not completely proofread

neteyam ✩‧₊˚

jealously never usually crosses his mind in all honesty, actually he rarely even feels an ounce of envy himself. he’s confident and values his pride and skill, so there was really nothing to worry about. when neteyam started to date you, his mindset never changed, but when he found out you were the jealous one, he couldn’t help but feel a bit more prideful. neteyam finds your jealousy to be amusing and he feels ensured that he’s protected by you.

from a short distance, you watched neteyam speaking to a girl— noticing how she lightly brushed her hand against his as they observed maps of pandora together. yes, you trusted neteyam completely. one thing that you admired about him was his boundless loyalty he had for the people he love. but there was itch, an irrational itch to just seat in between them and rip the map into useless shreds of paper. your fangs dangerously bit down on your lip, nearly drawing crimson.

without second thought, you abandoned your hiding spot and marched towards the pair. neteyam notices you first, his yellow eyes observing the furrow of your brows and the pout on your lips that he loved so much.

he couldn’t help but grin at your flaming jealousy.

“sorry i have to go,” neteyam looked over to the girl with feigned sympathy, reaching over his hand to feel your soft hands latch onto his slim fingers. you never acknowledged the girl, instead you tugged neteyam from his seat and snatched the maps from her grasp— walking away without looking back.

“you hang out with her too much,” you hissed, trying to decipher one of the intricate maps but all you see was confusing scribbles and tiny written language.

“don’t tell me you’re jealous?” neteyam snickered, raising his eyebrows playfully at you.

“i am,” you admitted with a firm voice, not afraid to express your envy. you handed him the maps that were slightly crinkled after snatching it from the faceless girl— you still had no plans to find out who she was.

neteyam felt a little at ease by your possessiveness.

“then i’ll teach you how to read them,” neteyam smoothed out the creases of the maps. a sigh of relief came out of him when he saw you try to hide a smile.

neteyam will tell you how cute you look when you’re jealous after you calm down.

lo’ak ✩‧₊˚

he was very familiar with the feelings of envy, being brothers with neteyam and all. growing up as an outcast of his people has put him in situations where he felt insecure and mad at the world. but once lo’ak started dating you, he was surprised that you were also the jealous type. in all honesty, he felt reassured that you felt so strongly towards him— it made him fall for you even harder. also, lo’ak feels secretly prideful knowing that he’s yours only.

“breathe in,” lo’ak takes a deep breath. “and breathe out.”

he unleashes a gust of air through his lips, sensing his heartbeat slowing down. tsireya smiled, proud of the progress they were making in their training. you were watching their session intently, the opaque shells that you collected in the depths of the sea were set aside— all covered with jagged lines and stab marks.

these past few days, lo’ak has been training with tsireya, leaving little room for you to be alone with him. the idea of him spending time with another girl left you completely bitter and miserable.

in celebration of his efforts, tsireya embraced him tightly, firmly wrapping her arms around his neck. lo’ak looked unsure what to do, his hands awkwardly hovering over her waist. all you could do is silently drag your knife as you carved the shell— each drag left a sour chime.

his eyes locked with yours, noticing the glint of red in your usual soft eyes. lo’ak gave you a reassuring gaze, whispering something in tsireya’s ear. whatever he said made her jump away in surprise and her silky voice released an endless amount of apologies— prompting her to leave the both of you alone.

the grip on your knife finally loosened, a rush of blood flooding back into your relieved veins. lo’ak walked over to you with a small smile on his blue face— flustered at how pretty you looked with a glare.

“you good?” he tilted his head in curiosity, taking one of the terribly carved shells and tossing them back into the clear ocean.

you feigned a smile, but the dark pools of your eyes made it obvious that you were angry.

“yes, i’m fine.” lo’ak didn’t believe a word, but that only made him adore you even more.

he took your smaller hand into his larger ones, leading the both of you back into the village. for however long it’ll take him, he’ll always say he’s yours.

#✩.*˚ — ina’s works🎂#ੈ♡˳ — (atwow) 📁#* ੈ♡˳ — (neteyam sully) 🎞️#* ੈ♡˳ — (lo’ak sully) 🎞️#lo’ak #lo’ak sully #neteyam #neteyam sully #avatar 2 #avatar way of water #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully x reader #lo’ak x reader #lo’ak sully x reader #avatar headcanons #— ౨ৎ ࣪ . ⊹ : drabbles

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lees-chaotic-brain · 11 months ago

Note

How would jjk men react to reader being pregnant with quadruplets?

Feat. Gojo, Yuta, Inumaki, Nanami, Megumi, Itadori (all characters are aged up)

Note: I did headcanons for this request because there were so many characters I wanted to include, and it would get a little boring to write the same scenario out in a full fledged fic like seven times. However, if there are one or two that you want me to turn into proper fics lmk!! I had to do research on pregnancy for this bc it's been awhile since my high school health class

CW: pregnancy, implied thoughts of abortion ig, mentions of fear regarding labor, AFAB reader bc, yk, pregnancy, one singular swear word

Word Count: 1.2k

JJK Masterlist | Blog Navigation

Gojo

I feel like Gojo would think you were joking at first, and wouldn’t believe you until you got frustrated and he finally realized you were being for real. He would have mixed emotions. On one hand, he was excited to have a big family and a house full of laughter and love. On the other hand, he was afraid, because more babies meant more defenseless mini-people for him to protect.

He had only known that he was going to be a father of quadruplets a few minutes ago, but he already knew that it would destroy him if he ever lost one of them. That he would gladly give his life for them. And then there was the matter of you. He already knew that childbirth was difficult for women, but quadruplets?? Childbirth was something that even he couldn’t protect you from and that terrified him.

After a serious discussion in which he made sure you were okay with the added risks and you continuously reassured him that this was what you wanted, he settled down and began imagining a future for your family. Until he realized that he would have to share your love with four little gremlins who would surely take after their clingy father. Then it suddenly seemed less appealing.

Yuta

Baby boy would be shooketh. Because he’s sorry please don’t be mad at him and oh you’re not mad at him and the two of you are having quadruplets well technically you are but he’s the dad and oh god what if he’s not good at being a dad and-

You would have to calm him down as he fell into a downward spiral. Once you had properly reassured him, and he had fully absorbed the information he was ecstatic. He has always wanted a big family, and together the two of you were making that dream come true. Cuddling up to you he would thank you for loving him and gifting him with the many kids he had always dreamed of having.

He for sure would be the type to rub your stomach and whisper sweet nothings to the growing babies in your womb, telling them how much daddy loves them and how excited he is to meet them.

He would also start baby-proofing every square inch of your house before you had even started your second trimester.

Inumaki

He would be in shock. Because he put- wait how many??? babies in you. There was no way he heard you right. There was no way that you were pregnant with quadruplets. Because, wait, he didn't sign up for this! Yeah, he wanted tons of kids, but four babies at a time was a lot. And the strain it would have on your body was concerning as well.

After he stopped opening and closing his mouth as he gaped at you, he managed to organize his thoughts. First he wanted to make sure you even wanted that many kids because, well, it wouldn’t be easy to give birth to or take care of that many. Once you had reassured him that you were, in fact, sure that you wanted to go through with the pregnancy and that you were prepared for whatever the future held for your not-so-little family he took a moment to process his own emotions.

At first he was conflicted. Sure he was excited, but he held his own private reservations. What if something went wrong during labor? What if he wasn’t cut out to be the parent of one kid, let alone four. But as the months sped by and your stomach grew, the anticipation grew, until one day he let go of any and all trepidation and allowed himself to be optimistic.

He also bought tons of matching onesies for the whole family.

Nanami

Ever the responsible adult and caring husband, first he sat you down and had a serious discussion about the pros and cons of having quadruplets, and whether or not the risks were worth it. Deep down he was thrilled, but he wanted to make sure the two of you were on the same page and understood what continuing meant.

Once the two of you had established you were going to see this through, and it was something the two of you wanted his planning would begin. First came the research. He thoroughly educated himself on everything regarding pregnancy, learning everything he needed to do to ensure your comfort and the healthy birth of his children.

Expect a special diet plan that fulfills the needs of you and your unborn children in the healthiest way possible, essential oil massages, weekly check-ups starting your second trimester, vitamin gummies and more.

He also would begin saving up because raising four children would be expensive. Would for sure have a whole financial plan set up and college savings accounts set up for each of his children within a week of his learning.

Megumi

Honestly, he wouldn’t have super strong feelings about it. He wanted to be a dad, but he didn’t care if it was one, four, or one hundred. He just wanted to have kids with you, and beyond that as long as you were happy he was too.

So when you told him, his only response was asking you what you thought about it. When you told him you were excited, he was excited too. He had wanted to build his own family for as long as he could remember, and you were helping him reach his dream. What more could he ask for? The only other thing that mattered to him was that his children had siblings. As a kid he had resented Tsumiki, but as an adult he couldn’t imagine the loneliness he would have experienced growing up without her. So yeah. If you were happy, and his children would have siblings so they would never have to walk through life alone, he was content.

There was nothing more he wanted in life than your love and a family with you.

Itadori

Kids!!! He had wanted a ton of kids, so this was perfect! You were happy with it, so even better! He sees it as a four-in-one deal, and is over the moon. His golden retriever personality becomes even worse when you’re pregnant. Like, this man is at your side 24/7.

Constantly following you around, looking at you with big pleading eyes as he begs to cuddle in bed with you so he can talk to your stomach.

Oh my god talking to your stomach. This man would talk to your stomach more than he talks to you. Asking what your kids want to be named. Telling your unborn babies about his day. That he loves them and can’t wait to meet them. Describes all the fun things the six of you are going to do once they’re born. Definitely tries cuddling your stomach because he ‘wants to know what it feels like to hold his children.’

Also is a little shit that constantly asks ‘are they coming yet? Why not??’

#lee's brain writes #jjk x reader #jjk x you #inumaki x reader #gojo x reader #yuta x reader #itadori x reader #nanami x reader #megumi x reader #nanami is baby daddy material for real #so responsible #i wrote a whole essay for inunmaki #and even after shortening it i had to make the others longer so that my bias wouldn't show #jjk fluff #jjk crack #jjk fic

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lalacliffthorne · 6 months ago

Text

🤍 just a one time thing 🤍

modern!Cassian x Reader

summary: add together best friends and a drunk slip up and you got a massive load of chaotic feelings.

part I

notes: well - so much for next week? life just - majorly got in the way. anyway.

fuuuuuuck I can't. 😭💞 this has been long overdue, bc honestly - Cassian just has my whole fucking heart, and this modern version reduces me to a pile of giggling, feet-kicking mush. I've had this idea for a while now, along with some impeccable inspiration - and it's finally coming together. this one's got smut (duh), flirting and friendship (and a whole lot of f-bombs on Cassian's side) -- and, which seems to be business at usual for me at this point - it got insanely long. in fact, it got so long that I had to scratch posting it in one part, cause I think that would have brought tumblr down, like - really. *winces* so, this is part one, somewhere around 20k words (oh boy) -- you know the drill; get cozy, get comfortable, you're gonna be here for a while.

______________________________________________________________

The library was my favorite place on campus.

Even though it was way too small for so many students and had way too little workspace, which meant it was chronically stuffed with people, there was just something calming about the absolute silence you entered once you walked through the front doors. And I had quickly realised that if you slipped into one of the lesser frequented sections, moving through the aisles all the way to the back where the tilted roof was glass and everything was completely quiet, you could actually pretend you were alone, just surrounded by hundreds and hundred of books, not another soul around.

Which meant it usually was the perfect place for any sort of breakdown.

Usually.

♡

“You okay there?”

The deep, amused voice made me jump slightly; quickly, I pulled the book from my face and dipped my head back, craning my neck – and felt my breath catch.

Oh.

A guy was standing a few feet away, his brows crunched together and eyes narrowed, but the corner of his lips twitched.

At least it looked that way from upside-down.

I blinked. Then I sent him a slow, sheepish smile from my position down on the carpeted floor, sprawled out on my back, head tipped back and neck craned to look up at him.

“Hi.”

The guy stared down at me, and slowly, his lips curved upwards.

My heart missed a beat, and my breath hitched.

Oh.

“Hi.” His voice sent a tingle over my skin, deep and warm. Creases dug into his cheeks as he grinned down at me.

Creases.

Crap.

Clearing my throat, I crunched my nose, smiling innocently up at him. “Can I – help you?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” The dude narrowed his eyes, but his lips twitched like he was trying not to smirk as he leaned his shoulder against one of the shelves. His voice rumbled through me, low because of our surroundings, sending tingles down my spine.

Using my book to scratch my chin, I squinted up at him. “Why?”

The dude’s eyes narrowed further, a slow grin spreading over his face.

Creases.

“Cause you’re laying starfish-style on the floor with a book on your face.” He raised his brows, eyes twinkling. “I don’t know ‘bout you, but to me, that kinda sounds like a breakdown.”

I blinked. Then I laborously pushed myself up into a sitting position, grumbling “Judgy much.” under my breath. Somehow, the guy still picked up on it, because he chuckled, the deep sound travelling, and my breath hitched. My eyes darted up, and for the first time, I really looked at him.

My heart got stuck in my throat, and I almost felt myself shrink a little.

Well, shit.

Of course he was gorgeous.

Dark eyes that tracked over my face in amusement, even darker hair, the top half pulled back haphazardly into a bun. His grin caused dimples to appear in his cheeks, there was a faded scar on the side of his face shifting with his smirk, and his jaw looked like it could cut through paper.

And then there were the tattoos.

All in black, they were scattered all over his muscled arms, down to the backs of his veined hands and disappearing into the sleeves of his t-shirt, peaking out above the collar. His shoulders were straining against the material even though it was hanging loosely on his wide frame, muscles working under the fabric when he shifted lightly in the spot, crossing his arms over his chest. I tried not to stare as his biceps tensed and relaxed again.

God, there probably wasn’t an inch on the guy’s body that didn’t carry muscles. Even with his loose joggers it was clear that he never skipped leg day, his biceps were the size of my head, and his chest and shoulders were broad enough I felt my throat go dry.

I blinked, and the guy’s shit-eating grin grew.

Ah, crap.

Clearing my throat, I quickly raised my brows.

“So, can I – help you?”

“I don’t know.” The guy narrowed his eyes in thought, pushing off the shelves. “Any reason you’re back here?” The corners of his lips twitched, his deep voice vibrating like he was holding back a smirk when he sauntered towards me. “Deleted someone’s assignment when they went to the bathroom? Spilled soda on a book worth more than your apartment?” Dimples formed in his cheeks when he grinned. “Smuggled in your cat?”

I crunched my brows.

That seemed – oddly specific.

“No...” It came out more like a question, my head dipping to the side in slight confusion, and the guy chuckled as he crouched down in front of me. A wave of his warm cologne washed over me, something dipped in my stomach, and he raised his brows at me with a smirk.

“Hope it hasn’t got anything to do with you currently blocking the number one hook-up spot on campus.”

I blinked. Then I snorted a little and started to giggle, raising my brows.

“You’re kidding, right?”

The guy stared at me, the corners of his lips slowly curving upwards.

I stared back with a wide smile that dimmed a little. Then I crunched my brows. “You’re joking.”

The guy grinned, his gaze tracking over my face.

“Nope. Wish I was.” He sighed deeply before crunching his brows. “Have you been back here often lately, ‘cause that would explain why suddenly every horny student has migrated to the fourth floor over at the auditorium; before you ask how I know,”, the corners of his lips tipped into a smirk, “I walked in on a couple fucking in the broom closet a week ago.”

I stared at him. For a second, my mind was simply blank as I felt heat wash into my face and the guy stared back, the corners of his lips twitching and eyes twinkling mischievously. Then I blinked and crunched my face in confusion.

“Why didn’t you knock?”

The guy arched his brows. “Knock. At a broom closet.”

I raised my shoulders, somehow managing to fight a wide smile when I widened my eyes at him.

“I don’t know; it’s a broom closet in an empty hall, that’s like the second most cliché place for a hook up. I mean,”, I tried to keep my lips from curving upwards, “you probably scared the crap out of them; neither of them will ever be able to do it in a confined space again because they’ll be too scared of you suddenly barging through the door, but – to the rest of the student body, a broom closet will still be pretty high up on the list!”

The guy snorted, dropping his head for a second as his shoulders shook with quiet laughter.

“So you’re saying it’s my fault?” He looked up at me again, creases digging into his cheeks as he grinned widely and raised his brows.

“Well, it’s definitely not mine.” I frowned, something giddy bubbling under my ribs as I tried to suppress a beaming smile. “What did you just walk into a broom closet for?!”

“I thought someone was dying in there.” The guy widened his eyes at me, his grin growing bigger. “That poor girl was faking her fucking heart out, and it wasn’t surprising, the guy was practically making her teeth chatter.”

A snorted giggle broke from my throat before I could hold it back, and the guy raised his brows, deep creases forming in his cheeks. “Seriously man; it was traumatising, I’m getting flashbacks every time I just open a fucking door.”

I tried to fight the giggles bubbling in my chest. “In that case, maybe it’s good then he can’t do it in small spaces anymore.”

For a second, we just stared at each other while suddenly, I couldn’t keep my grin at bay, my heart hopping against my ribs and the guy’s lips curving, dimples in his cheeks as his twinkling eyes pierced mine. Then I blinked, and my gaze caught on the clock on the wall behind him.

My eyes widened as something dipped in my chest, startled.

“Shit.”

Hastily, I crammed my book into my bag and scrambled to get to my feet. Looking around to make sure I hadn’t left anything, I turned – and almost ran face first into a broad chest.

My heart missed a beat, my gaze slowly moved up, and my breath caught in my throat as I felt my lips part a little.

Oh.

Crap, he was tall.

The guy’s lips curved like he could read my thoughts as he stared back down at me. He was so close, I could feel the scent of his cologne fill my lungs with every soft, hitching breath, something dark and warm and addicting.

I could have stepped back to make it more comfortable for both us. I probably should have; I was still barely an inch away from bumping into his chest and had to crane my neck to look up at him, the top of my head barely even reaching his shoulders, his own head dipped so he could hold my gaze.

But for some reason, I suddenly couldn’t move a muscle, my breath caught in my throat and my heart thrumming against my ribs as I stared up at him with slightly widened eyes. His wide shoulders were basically blocking the light and his broad, solid chest was radiating warmth, his scent making my head swim. There were green flecks in his iris, surrounding his dark pupils in a ring and melting into warm brown that slowly started to twinkle.

“What were you doing back here again?” The guy’s quiet voice vibrated like he was suppressing a grin, his eyes narrowing lightly.

Somehow, I kept myself from swallowing. Instead I managed to pull myself together with a huff and started to glower up at him.

“Not what you’re thinking right now.”

The guy slowly started to smile shit-eatingly, dimples digging into his cheeks as he raised his brows.

“Actually, sweetheart, you’re the one thinking it -”

Grumbling, I turned around, barely fighting the stupidly wide grin threatening to break over my face.

When I threw a quick look back before turning the corner, the guy was still standing in the same spot, dimples in his cheeks as he stared after me with a grin.

♡

Rain pattered onto the skylights above, the lamps dunking the quiet library in warm, golden light.

It had started chucking it down just a little after I had slipped into my favorite rarely visited section, setting up camp under the windows. I had gotten some work done before pulling my book from my bag, curling up against the wall.

Crunching my brows in focus, lost in the story, I was about to turn the page when a pair of sneakers appeared in my vision.

The scent of dust and paper was chased away by a dark, warm scent; my heart leapt into my throat and my head whipped up, and someone plopped down next to me.

My breath caught, and the guy that had been wandering my mind since his appearance in my section a few days ago stared at me with contemplatively narrowed eyes. There was the hint of a crease showing in his cheek, his loose sweatshirt somehow making him look even broader, and his huge frame dwarfed mine even with him sitting on the floor.

“You know…” He shifted, one tattooed hand rising from where it was loosely draped over his pulled up legs as he dipped his head towards me.

“Over there,”, squinting as his lips quirked, he pointed towards the aisles leading back into the main space of the library, “are workspaces where you can actually sit at a table instead of on the floor?”

I stared at him, and slowly, something started bubbling in my chest. It felt warm and giddy, causing my heart to hop and a big grin threatening to break free on my face.

Biting it back just barely, I crunched my brows.

“Yeah, but, over there,”, leaning his way without being able to help it, I also pointed towards the aisles and looked back at him, raising my brows dramatically, “you have to actually kill someone to get a seat.”

The guy chuckled, the sound travelling through me. Eyes crinkling and dimples digging into his cheeks, he grinned and leaned back against the wall, easily stretching out one long leg and propping his arm onto the other. I tried not to stare at the tattoos inked onto his skin, muscles flexing beneath when he shifted to get comfortable and smirked at me.

“I was hurt when you ran away from me the other day.”

Something fluttered high in my chest. “I didn’t run away, I had class.”

“You didn’t even say goodbye.” The guy’s eyes were twinkling even as he furrowed his brows with a pout, which – looked ridiculously adorable for a six-foot-something guy with tattoos all over.

“I was late.” Widening my eyes at him, I tried to fight that strange feeling that started bubbling in my chest, warm and giddy and causing my lips to try and break into a huge smile.

“You had time to stare at me.” The guy smirked, a crease digging into his cheek as his gaze lazily dragged over my face, and I glowered at him even as heat bled into my cheeks.

Damn it.

The guy’s grin grew, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Then he raised his brows, draping his hand over his knee.

“So you’re still sitting in the hook up-section.”

I huffed, trying to fight my twitching lips.

“Yeah, well; your word is the only one I got that this is actually a hook up spot, and I’m not about to give up the only place in this library where I don’t have to fight anyone to get a seat.”

“I'd fight for you.” The guy’s eyes were twinkling as he stared at me, his grin growing when a laugh broke from my throat.

“Besides.” I turned back towards my book and raised my brows, feeling my lips curve. “I decided that if that whole thing is true, then I will gladly keep scaring people off with my presence.”

The guy’s eyes were twinkling as his gaze dragged over my face. “You sure you’re the right person to scare anyone away?”

I quickly turned my head to scowl at him. “Hey; I might not be a fucking giant, but I can kick very painful places.”

The guy’s smirk widened, creases digging into his cheeks and iris sparkling as he stared at me. “Kinky.”

I huffed, mostly to suppress the laugh rising in my throat as the happy bubbling under my ribs grew.

“Also, I don’t have to be scary, just a person being here is gonna do the job.” I felt a cheeky grin tug at my lips when I arched a brow. “People generally don’t want an audience when they’re having a quicky in the library.”

The guy squinted at me, his lips curving.

“You talking out of experience?”

My cheeks heated, and I glared at him.

“I don’t know; you’re the one who heard people fucking in a closet and decided to take a look,”, I grumbled.

A deep laugh broke from the guy’s chest, the sound suppressed as he tipped his head back, his shoulders shaking as he laughed silently. Something hopped against my ribs, and I tried to fight the stupidly wide smile pushing onto my lips.

Breathing a chuckle, the guy dropped his head again with a grin, his twinkling eyes flickering over my face as he narrowed them.

“So why did you decide robbing people of quickies in the library was a good idea? Cause there’s a bunch of students 'bout to be really fucking pissed.”

“Because unlike a broom closet, no aisle here has a door. I don't wanna know how many people got traumatized because they were looking for a book at the wrong time,”, I grumbled drily before crunching my face. “Also; fucking in a library, have some respect, the poor books.”

“What, a broom closet is less sensitive?” The guy furrowed his brows, his lips twitching like he was fighting a laugh.

“Yeah; I mean, the only thing to defile in there are mops, and they’re used to dirty stuff,”, I mumbled absentmindedly.

For a second, there was silence, and when I raised my eyes before looking to the side, the guy was staring at me, the grin on his face slowly growing.

My lips started twitching, and a giggle bubbled in my throat.

“You know, I don’t even know your name.” The guy reclined lazily, his eyes bright when he raised a brow.

Staring back at him, I felt my lips curve. “Well, I don’t know yours, so I’d say that’s fair.”

The guy’s grin widened. Then he sent me a light wink.

“Cassian.”

Something leapt up and down under my ribs, and I tried to fight a wide smile.

“Y/N.”

For a second, we stared at each other, something bubbling wildly in my stomach. Then the guy, Cassian, blinked and crunched his brows, again looking ridiculously adorable.

“So what was that breakdown the other day about?”

I sighed and raised the book I was holding. “This. I’m really trying to enjoy it, but it’s just breaking my brain –“

“It’s a book, baby; how bad can it be?” Cassian’s lips curved into a smirk as he plucked it from my grip, crunching his brows as he turned it to read the back, and I felt my breath catch at the absolute nonchalance with which he called me baby. But somehow, I managed to push past it, widening my eyes at him.

“It’s the story, okay; listen –“

“Next station -”

The tinny voice coming from the speakers overhead ripped me out of my thoughts, and I raised my head, my gaze landing on the name of the station on the screen.

“Shit.” I felt my eyes widen as my heart jumped against my ribs, and I quickly darted out of my seat.

♡

“Sorry, excuse me –“, wincing, I weaved my way through the people coming my way from the crosswalk. Squinting against the last rays of sunlight, I breathed out, the cold air making me shiver gently as I slid my hands into my pockets and stopped at a red light. Rocking back and forth on the spot, I let my gaze flicker over the square behind the crosswalk.

I didn’t know why exactly today, my brain had decided to take me on a trip down memory lane. But it caused that same happy, bubbling feeling to rise under my ribs and made me barely suppress a wide, giddy grin.

The light shifted to green, and I crossed the street, feeling my brows furrow gently as I let my gaze wander over the square. The windows of the restaurants and shops reflected the last golden rays of light, there were people crossing the square; elderly couples, groups of teenagers -

My breath hitched in my throat, and slowly, a wide smile spread over my face.

In the middle of the square next to the fountain, a tall figure towered above all others, wide shoulders even broader under a dark puffer jacket, his profile lit by the last golden flickers of sunlight, straight nose crunched against the cold and strong jaw tensing and relaxing as he lazily shifted on the spot. His eyes slowly tracked over the square, the last light causing the scar on the side of his face to shift.

My heart rose in a warm thrum, and I whistled sharply.

Cassian looked over his shoulder, gaze darting over the people - until his eyes found mine.

Even from a distance, I could see the twinkle beginning to spread through his iris.

Creases slowly started forming in his cheeks, and something skipped happily against my ribs when my best friend began to grin shit-eatingly. The lines of his smirk, now, nearly two years later almost as familiar as my own, made my heart do a happy wiggle, and I began to beam back.

I quickened my steps, and Cass turned towards me, raising his brows as his lips curved.

I got faster, a happy giggle bubbling in my throat, then I crashed into him.

Cassian grunted, but the sound quickly turned into a chuckle as he leaned down with a dramatic groan and lifted me off the ground. His arms tightened in a squeeze around my waist, his shoulders broad and solid beneath my arms, and feeling something skip happily against my ribs, I swung my legs around his waist with a giggle, interlocking them tightly.

“Hi monkey.” Cassian’s deep voice rumbled through me, a little raspy as always and vibrating with a grin. Slipping his arms under my thighs to hold me up, he chuckled when I pulled back just enough to press a firm kiss onto his cheek.

The scent of his cologne started to fill my lungs, and something hopped happily against my ribs when I leaned back and saw a dimple forming in his cheek.

“Hi.” Sliding my arms around his neck, I grinned at him, and Cassian smirked, a crease digging into his cheek. The light hit his eyes when he shifted, causing the green spots in his iris to glow, and something wriggled in my stomach.

“You good?” Cassian hoisted me up a little to adjust his grip, grinning when I tightened my grip out of reflex.

“Yup.”

My belly grumbled, and Cass raised his brows.

I squinted. “Apart from that.”

Cassian smirked.

“You know, I’m always surprised by how much food you can stomach,”, his eyes narrowed, “it’s like you’re a little black hole for snacks or something –“

I glared and lightly slapped the side of his head, and Cass broke off with a deep chuckle that made my whole body shake.

“Leave me alone, I haven’t eaten all day.”

“You? Haven’t eaten?” Sliding his right arm under my ass to hold me up, Cassian freed his other hand to slap it against my forehead, brows dramatically crunching. “Are you sick, baby?!”

“Oh, fuck off.” Trying to push his hand away, I nearly lost my balance, quickly locking my legs tighter around his waist and linking my arms back together at the nape of his neck. Cassian chuckled, his warm eyes flickering over my face as he grinned at me, and I had to fight the overwhelming urge to press a kiss onto the side of his nose.

“I’m fine. Just got sucked into writing this morning and basically didn’t stop until like an hour ago.” I shrugged.

Cassian stared at me. Then his lips curved, and slowly, very slowly, that familar shit-eating grin spread over his face, only doubled tenfold now as he eyed me, creases digging deep into his cheeks.

I blinked and felt my heart do a little swerve.

“Don’t.”

My best friend widened his eyes lightly, even as his grin grew. “You don’t even know what I was gonna say!”

I widened my eyes back at him, something warm suddenly bubbling wildly in my chest. “I know you, dipshit; you were about to drop some suggestive innuendo about sucking!”

“Dude, your mind went there; I didn’t actually say anything -“ Cassian’s grin was broad as he raised his brows and slipped his hand back around my thigh, and my heart leapt against my ribs.

“I can’t with you.” I shook my head, barely keeping the warm, giddy feeling in my chest from causing a stupidly wide smile to spread over my face.

“Can’t without me either, baby.” Cassian smirked and winked, and I lost the fight against the giggle breaking from my throat.

“Put me down, you idiot.” Trying to keep the grin mirroring his in check and failing, I slid my legs off Cassian’s waist. “If Mor’s gonna make me drink, we gotta change the food-situation.”

Cass leaned down to place me back onto my feet with a dramatic groan.

“Alright.” Straightening laborously, he pulled his phone from his pocket and squinted at the screen. “We got - another hour until we’re meeting the others; so, let’s get you something to eat before you start getting hangry.”

“I don’t get hangry.” Frowning, I craned my neck to stare up at him indignantly.

Stuffing his phone back into his pocket, Cass stared back, brows rising.

“Okay, fine; maybe sometimes. A little.” Grumbling, I crossed my arms in front of my chest as I glared up at him, and Cassian slowly started to smirk, causing his cheeks to crease. Then he dropped his head, and something toppled under my ribs when he pressed a kiss onto my cheek, his hands sliding around my jaw to keep me from moving when the first was followed by another, and another, until my heart hopped and a giggle bubbled in my throat.

Cassian grinned against my cheek before pressing one last firm kiss against my temple.

“Alright, c’mon, sweet cheeks.” With a smirk, he straightened to his full height, his arm sliding over my chest and turning me around, his body pressing into my back as he started to push me down the sidewalk. I craned my neck to try and look up at him.

“Who’s party is this again?”

Cassian shrugged, the neon lights of a shop throwing shadows under his jaw and cheekbones, dark brows furrowed lightly.

“I don’t know, think someone from one of Rhys’ classes?”

I hummed, frowning in thought. “Think they’ll have food?”

“Nah, don’t count on it; we’re getting you something now.” Looking back, Cassian wrapped his arm over my shoulder, lightly drawing me into his side as a cyclist zipped past us.

My stomach twisted with a soft growl, and I looked up at him with a pout, fighting a smile. “Thanks.”

“Are you kidding?” Cass threw me a look, huffing. “Not eaten all day; you and I need to have a talk.”

Warmth rose under my ribs, and I looked back ahead, shaking my head even as a wide smile spread over my face.

Cassian sniffled against the cold air, pulling up his shoulders a little as he crunched his brows contemplatively. “I could eat."

“You can always eat.” I grinned teasingly up at him before yelping and snorting a giggle when Cassian tightened his grip and leaned down with a grin to playfully nip at my jaw. His breath hit my skin, something bubbled high in my chest, and Cass straightened up again with a smirk.

“Fuck yeah, baby. Food’s life.”

Snickering under my breath, I huddled into his side, shivering dramatically and chattering my teeth.

“Why is it still so fucking coooold –“

“Want me to warm you up?” Cassian’s grin was shit-eating enough that I snorted, elbowing him into the side. Whining dramatically, Cass tugged me into his side, grinning when he rubbed his palm over my arm and raised his brows.

“Okay, seriously, what do you wanna eat?”

♡

Crunching my brows, I studied the two packages of crisps in my head, trying to figure out which one to take.

Something warm brushed against my shoulder, then a head slowly appeared right next to mine.

I felt my lips twitch; a snorted giggle broke from my throat, and I quickly reached up and pushed Cassian’s face away from me.

His chest vibrated in my back as he straightened up with a deep laugh, his head tipping back, and shaking my own, still snickering softly, I raised the packages to squint at them dramatically.

“I can’t decide!”

"It's okay, I'll help with the rest." Grinning, Cassian leaned over my shoulder and plucked both of them from my grip, pressing a dramatic kiss onto my temple before straightening. His chest pushed into my back, and quickly snagging the packages from his grip, I piled them into my arms, letting him steer me down the aisle.

The small supermarket was fairly empty thanks to the time, the city and sky outside becoming darker by the minute as we reached the register. Dropping my things onto the conveyor belt behind what looked like a guy’s dinner and a girl’s grocery run for the weekend, I sighed happily at the sight of crisps and two bottles of soda.

Cass leaned over me to snag a pack of gum, throwing it down next to my stuff, then he straightened, his arms sliding around my collarbones and his chest pressing into my back when he rested his chin on my head. Snuggling into my jacket, I leaned into him, giggling into his sleeve when Cass squeezed me with a dramatic sound.

Something started bubbling happily against my ribs, and I felt Cassian grin into my hair. Then he placed his chin back on my head and slightly clacked his teeth together, the vibration travelling through me. I snorted and Cass chuckled, his chest shaking in my back.

The guy in front of the line paid as the girl got ready to start shovelling her groceries back into her cart, and I looked to the side, letting my gaze roam until it met the one of an elderly woman a register over. I sent her a grin, and the old woman beamed, her eyes gleaming as they darted back and forth between Cassian and me. Then she leaned over slightly, her voice lowered confidentially as she said with a wide smile: “Such a lovely couple.”

My heart dipped, and I froze, my eyes widening and lips parting awkwardly. But before I could quickly correct her, Cassian’s deep voice echoed from somewhere above me, a grin vibrating through his voice.

“Thanks.”

I blinked before quickly craning my neck to stare up at him in bewilderment.

The smirk I got in response was shit-eating, only topped by the quick wink that followed.

The elderly woman beamed happily, sending me a gracious nod before moving forward in line, and I quickly turned and elbowed Cass into the ribs, something skipping in my chest when I hissed: “What the hell?!”

“What?” Cassian dropped his head so he could mumble into my ear, his smirk still wide as he threw the old lady a look over my head. “Didn’t wanna disappoint her. Besides.” His nose grazed my temple, and his smirk became shit-eating as his eyes dragged over my face. “Can’t blame her for assuming.”

My breath caught in my throat, and my eyes darted back and forth between his, warm and twinkling and suddenly so very close with his head dipped.

With a blink, I pulled myself together and rammed my elbow into his ribs again, and Cassian whined softly and dramatically, his grin wide as he straightened up again.

Grumbling, I turned back ahead, trying to ignore the heat suddenly pulsing in my cheeks.

♡

“No, wai- stop that!” Quickly yanking the my fries away, I glared at Cassian, trying to keep in a laugh.

We were sitting on a bench circling the big tree at the corner where the others were supposed to meet us, the sky above dark, cars rushing past. I was huddled up, legs criss cross, my knee pressing into the side of Cassian’s thigh while he lounged against the backrest, squinting into the neon lights of a laundromat across the street. The wrappers of the burgers and fries we had picked up at the take-out place next to the supermarket were crunched up next to me, and one bag of crisps was open in Cassian’s lap, but for the past few minutes, he’d been trying to sneak his hand into the paper bag that contained the rest of my fries.

Glowering, I turned to hold the package out of Cassian’s reach, twisting as I dropped my head back to pop a fry into my mouth. Cass quickly leaned forward, his arm sliding past me, and I gave a sound of protest that bubbled with laughter as I hastily held out my arm, trying to put the package to safety.

“Stop it, you already had the rest of the extra fries, your burger, your fries, and that huge bite of mine, and you’ve got the whole package of crisps, why can I not eat this in peace?”

“Cause baby, I’m twice your size; how can you expect me to not still be hungry when you are?” Cassian’s grin was shit-eating, his warm breath brushing over my nose, and I glowered back at him.

For a moment, we stared at each other, faces only inches apart, the green flecks in Cassian’s eyes twinkling as something bubbled in my chest and I barely fought the wide smile trying to form on my lips. Then Cassian’s hand shot forward, I quickly tried to twist away, and a soft squeak broke from my throat when Cassian dipped forward, sliding his arm around my waist and dragging me into his body.

For a few seconds, we were caught in a scuffle as I tried to save my fries while aimlessly flailing my legs and shaking with uncontrollable giggles, Cassian’s huge body half burying me beneath him as he tried to reach the bag, groaning and cursing under his breath until he managed to snag some fries. A dramatic whine broke from my throat, and whooping lightly, Cassian sat up with a wide grin.

Breathlessly, I slumped against him, and Cassian tipped his head back and dropped the fries into his mouth with a smirk.

Grumbling, I tried to sit up, but Cassian’s arm wound around my waist wasn’t budging, instead sliding tighter around me.

For a few seconds, I struggled, then I gave up.

Slumping into his side in defeat, I huffed. Cassian’s scent started to rise into my nose, dark and warm and familiar, and I could feel the warmth radiating from him even through his puffer jacket.

Shivering slightly, I shuffled a little to get more comfortable, pulling up my legs. Cassian draped his arm over my collarbones, and I snuggled into the curve of his elbow, squinting into the light of the laundromat as I leaned my head against his chest. Then I plucked some fries from the little package and craned my neck to look up at my best friend, holding them up.

A wide grin spread over his face, and leaning forward quickly, Cass snagged them from my fingers, teasingly biting my knuckles. I yelped a laugh, slapping his chest, and Cassian’s chuckle vibrated through me when he leaned back, chewing lazily.

Snuggling further into his arm with a happy sigh, I dropped some fries into my mouth, chewing contendly. I could feel Cassian shift as he took a sip of my soda, then he dropped his head to steal another fry from my fingers, sending me a wink when I glared up at him, dimples digging into his cheeks.

A few minutes later the fries were empty, and I was digging around in the second package of crisps, giggling breathlessly as Cassian kept dipping his head, lightly nipping my jaw.

“Stop the-“ Quickly holding out some crisps, I snorted when Cassian pulled them out of my grip with his teeth while grinning, dipping his head back to let them slide into his mouth.

There was a sharp whistle, and I turned my head, craning my neck.

My gaze flickered over the street until it caught onto three people slowly making their way towards us, and I started beaming and waved. Cassian’s body shifted in my back as he leaned over me with a soft grunt, stretching his arm out to dip his hand into the crisps and shortly making me vanish from sight.

When he straightened up again, three shadows fell over us, and I happily grinned up at our friends.

“Starting the party without us, I see.” Rhys shook his head in disappointment, letting his arm slip from Feyre’s shoulders. He was wearing a thick jacket, his hair fashionably messy as always, and the tip of his nose was pink from the cold, but the twinkle in his eyes was mischievous as usual.

“Hey, you’re the ones late,”, I grumbled with a pout.

“Someone took ages getting ready.” Feyre, also with a slightly pink nose and huddled into her jacket, rolled her eyes.

Both Cassian and I turned our heads to look up at Azriel, tall and brooding and never the one making anyone late.

Az returned our looks before raising a brow. “Very funny.”

Snickering, I laborously sat up up, Cassian’s arm sliding down my side. Feyre dropped down next to me onto the bench, freeing her hands from her pockets before she hugged me, her teeth chattering dramatically. Giggling, I squeezed her back.

“You two ready?” Leaning down slightly to greet Cassian with a bro-handshake, Rhys raised his brows.

“Yeah,”, I crunched my brow and squinted up at him, “where’s Mor though?”

“Should be -”, Feyre dipped her head to the side, “ah, nevermind.”

Leaning forward to follow her gaze, I nearly tipped off the bench, but Cassian's hand slid over my stomach, keeping me upright as I beamed when I saw a tall blonde speedwalk towards us, red painted lips glinting in the lights.

“Punctual as always!”, I yelled, causing Feyre to grin widely, and Mor called back loudly: “Fuck off!”

Snickering, I pushed myself up again, gathering all of our trash before getting to my feet on the bench. Cassian’s hand slipped off my waist, and I rested my own on his shoulder to laborously climb over his lap. His calloused fingers wrapped around my wrist, keeping me steady, and a deep chuckle travelled through me as Cass held onto me until I was on his other side, dimples digging into his cheeks as he smirked up at me. I flipped him off with a grin, then I turned around, wandering over the bench towards the trashcan on the other side of the tree.

When I got back, Cassian and Feyre had gotten off the bench, Cass towering over Mor who was bickering with Rhys over which way to go. Azriel caught my gaze over Feyre’s shoulder, rolling his eyes and causing me to snicker.

Coming to a halt on the bench next to where Cassian was standing, I exchanged a look with Feyre, and she sighed and stepped forward, trying to break up the bickering.

Shivering, my eyes got caught on Cassian’s profile, and my heart did a little flip.

“Hey Cass?”

Cassian looked up at me, and I raised my arms, beaming at him.

“Piggyback ride?”

My best friend smirked, eyeing me. “Sure you can carry me?”

I dropped my arms and glowered at him.

Chuckling, Cassian stepped towards the bench, turning his back towards me, and smiling brightly, I leaned down slightly, sliding my arms over his shoulders and hopping onto his back.

Cass caught my legs, his warm hands gripping my thighs before he slipped his arms under my knees, lightly hoisting me up. My chest pressed against his broad back, his scent rose into my nose, and grinning happily, I wrapped my arms around his neck.

“Okay, ready.”

“Can we just go?”, Cassian interrupted Mor and Rhys, a dimple forming in his cheek as he smirked. “By the time you two are done, the party's over.”

I parted my lips with a soft gasp. “The horror.”

Cassian’s chest rumbled as he laughed, his head tipping back lightly.

“Fuck off, baby.”

Grinning, I slung my arms tighter around his neck before crunching my brows and pouting. “Seriously, can we please just go; I don’t give a shit about how quickly we get there as long as we get there.”

“Amen,”, Azriel grumbled.

“Well, if he would listen to me –“ Mor glowered at Rhys.

The two started bickering again, and Az shook his head and brushed past us. “C’mon.”

I slid my arms tighter over Cassian’s collarbones, and Feyre sighed and slipped past her boyfriend, Cassian waiting until she was past him before following after her.

Resting my chin on my best friend's shoulder, I felt my heart do a happy wiggle as my body swayed with his steps. Behind us, the bickering slowly faded into the distance. Az and Feyre, a few steps in front of us, fell into conversation, Feyre linking her arm through Azriel’s, and Cassian craned his neck slightly to look back at me.

A deep crease slowly formed in his cheek as his eyes flickered over my face, and I crunched my brows.

“What? Do I have – something on my face?”

Cassian’s body vibrated as he chuckled and turned back ahead with a grin, squeezing my calves. “Nah.”

Staring at the side of his face for another second, I blinked before shrugging and leaning forward quickly to press a kiss onto his cheek. I could feel a crease forming beneath my lips, then I pulled back, grinning widely, and Cassian shook his head, gaze directed forward but eyes twinkling.

♡

Rhys and Mor caught up with us after maybe two blocks, both grumbling about being left behind, but I just snickered and slid off Cassian’s back, linking my arm through Mor’s to pull her with me.

The party of who-knows-who was located in some industrial loft further downtown. There were people standing in front of the entrance, smoking, a few stepping out of the way as Rhys pulled open the heavy steel door with a dramatic flourish. When I slipped into the stairwell after Feyre, I felt a warm, tall body towering in my back.

The music was audible even down here, and sliding my arm out of Feyre’s, I tipped my head back to stare up the winding staircase. I could feel the others push pass me, talking as they started to climb the stairs. Then something brushed against my back, and when I looked over my shoulder, Cassian’s breath hit my hair as he leaned forward, his chest pressing against my shoulders as he crunched his brows and stared up the stairwell.

“What are we looking at?”

A snorted giggle broke from my throat, and elbowing him into the ribs, I turned, sliding my hand around his wrist to tug him with me towards the stairs with a wide grin.

By the time we reached the fifth floor, the floor was vibrating, the noise of the party had doubled, and I was wheezing dramatically.

“God, who thought throwing a party up that many stairs was a good idea?” My voice was breathless as I held my sides, grimacing at the huge, open metal doors opposite of the stairs behind which lights flashed, illuminating the silhouettes of dozens of people. The others had apparently already gone in, because the landing was empty apart from empty bottles on the floor.

“Someone who’s never fallen down any steps while drunk.” I could hear the shit-eating grin in Cassian’s voice as his hands closed around my shoulders, rubbing slowly back and forth. I snorted a breathless giggle before straightening with a wince and, trying to steady my breathing, began to trudge over the landing, feeling my best friend in my back.

When I stepped through the open doors, I was hit by the noise and the music that made the thick, stale air vibrate. My gaze darted over the open floor loft, only lit by flashing lights changing colors and spotlights hitting the walls, so dark you could only see the outlines of the mass of people, and my breath caught in my throat. The noise and the amount of people crowding the space caused my chest to begin thrumming with a mix of exhilaration and anxiety, and something slowly closed around my lungs, making the flickering lights swim, the noise closing in on me -

A calloused hand slipped under my jacket, wrapping around my side as a solid chest pressed against my shoulders, and a familiar scent washed over me, chasing away the stale smell. My heart dipped; I ripped my gaze away from the crowd dipped in darkness and looked up over my shoulder, and something loosened in my chest.

Cassian was so close that I could see the details of the dark ink at the base of his throat, towering over me like a lighthouse in the dark as he let his gaze flicker over the crowd, the flashing lights illuminating his face and slightly crunched brows. His thumb absentmindedly brushed up and down over my ribs, and something started to bubble gently in my chest. The noise slowly faded to the edge of my conciousness, still present but no longer a weight on my senses, and I could feel my shoulders sink as the tightness around my throat slipped away.

“I think the others are over there!” Cassian’s deep voice vibrated through me as his grip tightened, then he dipped his head, and I could feel his shit-eating grin against my cheek when he called over the noise: “Want me to put you on my shoulders?”

I lightly kicked his shin, and Cassian’s chest shook when he laughed into my hair, his smile wide as he straightened. His body pressed into my back, and he started to gently push me through the crowd.

In the flashing lights, it was hard to even make out faces, the music causing the floor to vibrate and the noise leaving my skin humming. I quickly reached back, hooking my fingers into Cassian’s belt loops as my heart thrummed against my ribs, my breath hitching when I felt his body tower over mine like a rock between the waves.

Cassian’s grip tightened. Then the next second he drew me back into his chest just before some girls shoved past us. I nearly tripped over my feet, but Cass held me steady, and when I threw a quick look up at him over my shoulder, he was glaring after the group, muscles in his jaw flexing and a dark shift in his eyes.

Something toppled in my stomach when I felt his hand slip up a bit, wrapping around my ribcage, then his body pressed into mine, and Cass nudged me forward.

We caught up with the others about halfway through the loft. Feyre clocked us first, and I waited until a group of guys had pushed past us, yelling over the music and causing me to unconciously move back into Cassian’s grip. Then I stepped forward until I was standing next to her and crunched my brows.

“How ‘bout we find a - less crowded spot?”, I called over the noise, trying to sound lighthearted, but Feyre looked right through it. Squeezing my elbow comfortingly, she called back: “The guys are gonna see if they find a place to sit or something!”

Nodding back, I craned my neck to look up at Cassian. He was still towering over me, his hand wrapped around my ribcage protectively as he didn’t make any move to step away from me.

Warmth rose in my chest, and I leaned back into him without being able to help it, feeling him shift when he looked over his shoulder, then Mor appeared at my side, calling loudly: “Let’s go get something to drink!”

Glad about an opportunity to blend out some of the noise and chaos, I nodded, poking Cassian’s ribs to get his attention. He turned his head back towards me and dropped his gaze, and I stretched lightly to call: “We’re gonna go get drinks!”

“I’ll come with you!” Cassian’s deep, steady voice vibrated through me, and feeling something warm bubble high in my chest, I rolled my eyes with a grin.

“I’ll be okay, I got the girls! Just go with Rhys and Az, we’re gonna be fine!”

Cass crunched his brows, looking ready to protest, and with a soft laugh bubbling in my throat, I slid my hand towards his collar, tugging him down with a grin. Cassian complied easily, one corner of his lips curving as a wave of his scent washed over me, and stretching, I pressed a quick kiss onto his cheek, just long enough that I could feel a crease forming under my lips. Then I pulled back, and something leapt into my throat when my nose brushed against Cassian’s.

The room and noise faded. Cassian’s head was dipped so far that I could see the green specks in his twinkling eyes as they flickered over mine, only an inch away, so close that his breath was fanning over my lips.

Like he could feel the way I suddenly stilled, Cassian’s gaze flashed. Something twisted low in my stomach when his lids suddenly grew heavier, eyes darkening with something deep, hazy, almost heated as they slowly dragged over my face, and suddenly, I was acutely aware of his wide, towering body half pressed against mine.

My breath caught, Cassian’s muscles shifted, and his lips parted as he slowly, absentmindedly ran his tongue over his bottom lip.

My heart got stuck somewhere in my throat, someone’s elbow hit my back and made me jump, and Cass blinked, his lips tipping back into his usual, lazy grin as he straightened slowly, nothing left of that strange, heated look but the light twinkle in his eyes when he dipped his head to call into my ear: “Stick close to the girls!”

Maybe it was the noise around us, but Cassian’s voice sounded deeper, travelling through me and almost causing me to shiver. But somehow, I managed to push away the way my heart pounded against my ribs and poked his side, sending him a wide, cheeky grin. “Duh.”

Cassian’s chest vibrated when he chuckled, his cheeks creasing as he dropped his head to press a kiss against my temple, and something leapt against my ribs. Then Feyre took my hand and pulled me with her.

♡

After raiding the kitchen area at the other end of the loft, we squeezed back through the crowd towards the windows where couches were set up. Mor was carrying shotglasses and a bottle with clear liquid that just the sight of had already made me feel woozy, glancing over her shoulder every few steps to check on us and glaring at anyone who got too close. Feyre had beerbottles in her arms, her hand on my shoulder as she stayed in my back, and I was carrying boozy lemonade I had found in the fridge, the ice cold cans pressing against my arms and keeping my focus away from the crowd and bass vibrating through the floor.

Mor slipped past a group of guys, and following after her, I threw a quick look back to make sure Feyre was still behind me before turning ahead again, and something leapt high in my chest.

The boys had cleared one of the couches and two armchairs facing them. In the flickering lights, I could see Cassian’s teeth flash when he grinned, a chuckle causing his shoulders to shake. He was lounging on the couch, melted into the cushions, his long legs spread lazily. His black t-shirt was straining against his wide shoulders, the colorful, raging lights flickered over the tattoos scattered over his arms all the way down onto his hands, and deep creases formed in his cheeks when he smirked at something Rhys said.

Mor called their names over the noise, and when I blinked, Cassian’s gaze darted over the crowd, finding mine over her shoulder. The corners of his lips curved up, a lazy twinkle spreading through his eyes as he started to smirk.

Rolling my eyes, I took two of the beerbottles Feyre handed me and squeezed past Azriel. He was occupying one of the armchairs, boot propped up onto the coffee table and sending me a faint smirk when I handed him a beer.

Cassian grinned up at me as I moved to squeeze into between the coffee table and the couch, his legs falling apart further to make space for me, and I handed him the other bottle of beer.

“Here,”, I called over the loud, blaring music, and Cassian straightened and leaned forward, snatching my wrist.

My heart nearly toppled out of my chest, and I yelped softly when he pulled, dragging me down onto his lap.

My breath caught in my throat as I toppled into him, chest colliding with his, Cassian’s breath grazing my lips and nose nearly bumping mine. One corner of his lips tipped upwards as his twinkling eyes dragged lazily over my face. Then he dipped forward, and I made a light noise of surprise, hastily holding onto his shoulders when his arm slid around the back of my butt, nearly lifting me into his chest as he dragged me closer until my thighs bracketed his hips.

Something skipped into my throat, and I huffed, causing Cassian’s grin to widen as he slouched back into the cushions, his head tipping back lazily as he stared at me.

“Best seat in the house, baby.”

I snorted under my breath, feeling my lips curve into a wide grin as I leaned forward to speak into his ear. “I don’t know; Az looks pretty comfy too -”

Cassian leaned forward quick as lightning, and my laugh caught in my throat when he lightly sank his teeth into the soft skin of my neck just below my ear, his grin so wide, I could feel it against my skin.

Curling my fingers into his hair like reflex, I held my breath, and, dimples showing in his cheeks, Cassian pulled back, his eyes twinkling.

Huffing, I managed to tear myself away from the sight of his curving lips and the crease digging in his cheek. Flicking his forehead, I shifted to get comfortable in his lap, feeling warmth rising in my chest when Cassian’s large hand cupped my hip to keep me from sliding away to the side.

“Did we miss anything?”, I called over the noise, carefully opening one of the cans I had dropped onto the couch.

Cassian made a non-commitical sound and plucked the drink from my fingers, turning his head to take a sip. His throat worked when he swallowed, causing the tattoo at the base of his neck to ripple, then he made a face.

“Urgh.” Blinking and smacking his lips, he looked at the can, brows crunching. “How the fuck can you drink that?”

“By knowing it’s the only thing you won’t drink for me!” I grinned and pulled the can from his grip, something warm bubbling happily in my chest, and Cassian’s body started shaking as he tipped his head back with a deep laugh.

Grinning, I took a sip, feeling Cassian’s gaze drag over my face and down my throat.

“Hey!” Mor’s loud voice made me look over my shoulder, and when Cass dipped his head to the side to look past me, the blonde grinned widely. “They got a beer-pong table!”

My heart dipped, and slowly, I felt a grin spread over my face.

A couple minutes later, we had fought our way through the crowd and Mor and I were standing on one end of the dining table by the windows, cups arranged in front of us and Azriel and Cassian on the other side. Cassian’s eyes were twinkling in the light as he propped his arm onto Azriel’s shoulder, raising his brows at me, and without a word spoken, I saw the challenge in the way he smirked as his eyes dragged lazily down my body.

Something rose under my ribs, and I narrowed my eyes, feeling a wide, cheeky smile slowly spread over my face. Then I lightly nudged my chin forward.

Do your worst.

Cassian started to grin. Sliding his arm off Azriel’s shoulder, he caught the ping-pong ball some guy threw his way and turned slightly, raising his hand. Then he sent me a wink and tossed.

♡

A few hours later, the sky outside was pitchblack and a happy buzz had taken over my entire body, making me very giggly and a little sleepy.

“Hey.” A finger gently tapped my nose, and I shifted, forcing my eyes that had started to feel very heavy to open, and my breath caught a little in my throat.

Cassian stared down at me, a grin causing dimples to dig into his cheeks. Then he dipped down his head, and his breath grazed my cheek when he called into my ear: “Think it’s time we get you home, baby!”

I didn’t protest, not with how heavy my limbs and eyes had started to feel. Instead I reached up to poke Cassian’s cheek and sent him a wide, slow beam that caused his own grin to widen.

It’s goofy edge, the depth of his dimples and his pupils, blown and darker than usual, were the only signs that he definitely wasn’t sober anymore either.

Slowly freeing myself from where I had curled into his side, I felt Cassian’s arm slide off my shoulder, curling around my waist instead to keep me steady, and following a warm, lazy impulse, I leaned up and pressed my lips onto his cheek, long enough for his scent to fill my lungs, dark and warm and mixed with a boozy edge.

When I pulled back, Cassian turned his head, and in the flashing lights, his eyes suddenly seemed deeper and darker, his warm breath grazing my lips as his gaze dragged over my face. Then he blinked, his lips curved upwards and creases appeared in his cheeks, and his arm slid tighter around me when he dipped his head and pressed a slow kiss onto my cheek. His nose dragged over my skin, and shivers raced down my spine.

Somehow, I pulled myself out of the warm, buzzing feeling that filled my chest and turned around, pushing myself to my feet laborously. The room tipped just a little and I only nearly tripped over my own feet, but large, warm hands wrapped around my waist, holding me upright, and a giggle bubbled in my throat when I felt Cassian’s wide chest pressing into my back. Craning my neck to stare up at him, the warm buzz seemed to swell when I caught a glimpse at his wide, dimpled grin, his chuckles causing both our bodies to vibrate.

Cass leaned down his head, and his breath grazed my cheek when he called into my ear: “Let’s say bye to the others and then get the fuck outta here!”

♡

The next bus was another half an hour, so Cassian and I walked the way from the loft to my apartment.

The night air was cold and crisp, making the warm bubbling feeling in my chest swell even as the wind nipped at my skin. I slid my hand into Cassian’s after few blocks, his palm large and warm, engulfing mine as I linked our fingers and quickened my steps, tugging him with me, the happy, bubbling buzz in my body causing a giggle to rise in my chest, the smile on my face so stupidly wide it made my cheeks hurt when I turned and walked backwards, swinging our hands. Cassian’s answering grin was unrestrained and wide, causing dimples to dig deep into his cheeks when he pulled me back into his side, his arm sliding over my shoulder. Giggles broke from my throat when I bumped into him, nearly stumbling.

Cassian chased me the last few steps to the front door, even drunk still quicker than me, his arms wrapping around my waist just as I leapt onto the front step, and the storm of wild flutters in my chest reached new heights when he twirled me around in a circle, his chest vibrating as he laughed into my hair at the giggles bubbling from my throat that I just couldn’t contain.

“Stop i-“ I almost tripped when he dropped me back onto my feet, a snorted giggle leaving me, and warm hands gripped mine, keeping me upright as Cassian laughed fully, head tipped back and shoulders shaking. I flipped him off, and Cass caught my hand, grinning so widely, creases formed in his cheeks. He looked a bit flushed, from the cool air and the alcohol that seemed to make his gaze slower, more intense as it dragged over my face, and feeling something dip in my stomach, I turned around, trying to get my keys out of my pocket.

The warm light in the staircase flickered on when I pushed open the door. Shushing Cass and trying to suppress a giggle at the offended look he sent me, I nearly groaned at the sight of the stairs.

By the time we made it to the third floor, I was out of breath and desperately trying not to laugh at nothing in particular, the happy bubbling buzz in my chest making it hard to stay quiet as I dragged Cassian to my door.

Trying to slide my key into the lock, I missed, and a snorted giggle burst from my throat, shaking my body so badly, I leaned my forehead against the door, trying to keep the giggles in as more bubbled in my chest.

There was a deep, chortled laugh behind me, then I felt a warm weight in my back and a solid body pressing against mine when Cassian leaned an arm against the doorframe and dropped his head to smother his chuckling in my hair. The scent of alcohol rose into my nose, mashed with that scent that was just him, deep and dark and warm, causing my heart to rise, and I inhaled it softly without being able to stop it.

Trying to suppress more giggles, I pulled back my head just enough to look down, squinting dramatically. After two more tries, my key finally found the lock, jingling quietly when I turned it, and whooping softly, I pushed open the door.

My apartment was only lit by the glow of the streetlamps outside falling through the windows, the sky outside inky black like Cassian’s hair. I kicked off my shoes in the small hall, hopping on one leg and nearly falling over, causing a startled, snorted laugh to leave me.

“Fuck, I love your place.” Breathing out happily, Cassian let the door fall shut and slid out of his jacket, carelessly throwing it over the shoe rack before moving past me, and I switched on the small lights in my bedroom, just in time to see him collapse onto my bed.

“Dude,”, I whined, crunching my brows, “not the clothes on my bed!”

Cassian snorted before he rolled onto his back and started to laugh, his head tipping back and body shaking, and something rose high in my chest when I caught a glimpse at his face; the way his closed eyes crinkled and dimples dug into his cheeks.

Grumbling, I started taking off my socks, and still grinning, Cass pushed himself to his feet with a soft, dramatic grunt, his chest pressing into my shoulders as he pushed past me with a chuckle. I felt my skin tingle where his hands had closed around my ribs.

Cass ducked his head to the side to not hit it at the doorframe and trudged into the small kitchen, opening the fridge, and I made a face and started to shimmy out off my pants that had started to feel incredibly uncomfortable a while ago.

Screw jeans. I wanted joggers.

Kicking them to the side, I turned around, moving towards my bed while wrangling myself out of my top and carelessly throwing it over a chair. Tugging my bra over my head, I unceremoniously dumped it onto the floor before dragging the oversized t-shirt I slept in out from under my blanket. It vaguely smelled of something else besides me, something warm and dark and addictive, and after sliding into it, I buried my nose at the collar, breathing in deeply.

Something swelled and fluttered against my ribs, and I turned around with a happy sigh.

Cass was still bent over the fridge, arm propped onto the open door and head stuck inside, grumbling under his breath as he dug through the contents. Feeling a wave of giggles bubbling in my throat, I kicked our shoes out of the way and squeezed into the bathroom to wash off my make-up that had started to feel sticky on my skin. Nearly groaning happily, I dried my dripping wet face before raising my head and catching a glimpse at myself in the mirror; eyes bright and hair messy.

Looking around for the joggers I had left in here before leaving earlier, I crunched my brows. Then I shrugged and turned around.

“What are you even looking for?” I pulled the bathroom door close behind me before stepping into the door to the small kitchen and leaning against the frame, feeling the warm, bubbling feeling rise against my ribs when I stared at Cassian’s large frame towering in my kitchen, chugging soda from a colorful can. My gaze flickered over the curve of his throat and the tattoo rippling at its base, and something curled low in my stomach.

Finally dropping his head, Cassian swallowed and exhaled dramatically. “That was good.” He dropped the can into the trash before turning around, and I could see his movements slow as his gaze dragged down my body. His eyes flashed with something heated, growing deep and hazy, and my breath hitched, the warm feeling in my chest swelling.

Cass blinked, and slowly, he started moving, his piercing gaze never leaving my face as he walked towards me. A wave of his scent washed over me, warm and addictive, and all my thoughts quieted down when he leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, his knuckles brushing against my side as his low-lidded eyes dragged over my face. My chest brushed against his t-shirt, his warmth travelling even through the layers of clothing, and I stared up at him, feeling the warm thrum in my chest as my lips parted softly, my breath hitching as the warm buzz under my ribs swelled. My mind felt slow, hazy, muddled either by the alcohol cursing through me – or by Cassian’s scent filling my lungs, the warmth radiating from his large body, pulling me in, and the way he was gazing down at me, his eyes hooded and dark under heavy lids, an intensity in the way his gaze dragged over my face that sent tingling shivers over my whole body.

My breath caught in my throat, and my thoughts narrowed.

Beautiful.

All of him. The dark ink all over his skin, the shift of his muscles and hazy heat in his goddamn beautiful eyes. It felt like all of him pulled me in to swallow me whole, made my chest flutter with something so powerful, it caused my breath to catch as I stared up at him, my heart thrumming warmer against my ribs with every second.

And just because it felt like I might combust if I didn’t, I stretched and kissed him.

Something burst in my stomach, like hundreds of bubbling fireworks rising to the surface.

Cassian's lips were soft and tasted like fruit soda and alcohol, sweet and bitter at once. My chest swelled as my fingers curled into the soft cotton of his t-shirt and Cassian’s lashes fluttered against my cheek. Then a deep, low sound broke from his throat, and dropping his head to meet me, Cass slid his hands up my sides. His calloused palms wrapped around the sides of my neck, and exhaling deeply like a weight had lifted from his shoulders, Cassian kissed back like he’d been starving for it.

The rising feeling in my chest burst into a warm, fluttering storm.

Sinking down onto my heels, I dragged him with me, gripping his shirt and curling my fingers into the nape of his neck, feeling his warm skin and the way he shuddered at my touch, causing my heart to thrum and the bubbling feeling under my ribs to swell.

Making a deep, hoarse noise, Cassian moved until his wide chest pressed into mine, and his hand wrapped around my ribcage, dragging me into his body as he kissed me harder.

He was kissing me like he was trying to swallow me whole, devour me, his jaw flexing with every kiss that deepend, hungry lips parting mine, tongue swiping into my mouth like he was trying to memorize the way I tasted.

I dug my fingers into his sides when Cass began to push me backwards, feeling the planes of his torso, warm and hard, flush against mine and his body towering over me, causing the warmth bubbling in my chest to swell and heat to pool in my panties.

My back hit a wall, and something curled low in my stomach when Cass groaned low in his chest as his whole body pressed against the length of mine, so close my breath caught in my throat. His long fingers curled into my hair, and Cass dragged my head back and dipped his own to kiss my throat bruisingly.

My heart leapt into my throat, I sucked in a breath, and my eyes fluttered shut as my lips parted.

Cassian moaned against my skin, his hot breath heavy as he dragged his lips down the side of my bared neck, licking, biting, teeth sinking into my skin and leaving soft whimpers tumbling from my lips. His hand slid down to my waist and slipped under my t-shirt, and I held my breath when his palm dragged up my side to cup my ribcage, his calloused skin burning against mine.

Raising his head breathlessly, Cassian crashed his lips against mine, and the flutter in my chest hitched like my breath. His hand slipped further into my hair as his lips parted mine, tongue swiping greedily into my mouth, and a whimper spilled from my throat as I clung to him, kissing back feverishly.

Cassian groaned against my lips, biting down onto the bottom one and pulling lightly, causing my insides to flutter madly. Dropping his forehead against mine, he breathed heavily, and when I forced my eyes to open, my heart leap into my throat at the sight of his, half-lidded and feverish as they dragged over my face.

Cassian's throat worked like he was suppressing the urge to swallow, then his hand slipped away from my ribcage, his fingers brushing down over my stomach.

My lips parted, and my fingers curled into his shirt as the buzz in my chest slowed to a heavy, warm thrum.

Cassian watched me through hazy hooded eyes, swollen lips parted as he absentmindedly ran his tongue over the bottom one. Then his thumb hooked into the waistband of my panties.

The bubbling feeling in my chest rose until I held my breath.

Cass shifted and his nose nudged against mine, his head dipped so far that I could feel his hot, heavy breath on my lips, could see the green flecks in his iris bleeding together, and warmth built in my chest, fluttering wildly at the feverish look in his hazy, half-lidded eyes. His lips grazed the corner of my mouth, causing the thrum between my legs to tighten. Then his finger pulled at the waistband of my panties, and dragging them down my legs, Cassian dropped down to one knee.

My eyes widened, my heart rising, and my hand flew out to hold onto the doorframe as the other shot down to bury in his hair, some part of my brain catching up with the fact that he couldn’t possibly want to –

“Open your legs.” Cassian’s deep, hoarse order mumbled against my hip sent shivers down my spine so violently, my body shook.

“I –“

One big, calloused palm slid under my knee, and I nearly lost my balance when Cass dragged it up and over his broad shoulders.

My heart leapt into my throat, my back hit the wall, and Cassian groaned, his eyes hooded as he ran his nose up the inside of my thigh before biting down softly where my leg and hip met.

“Fuck.” His raspy words sounded slurred as he squeezed his eyes shut. A muscle in his jaw worked and I felt his wide shoulders shift. Then he dipped forward with a soft sound and ran his tongue greedily through my folds.

My lips parted as pleasure raced up my stomach and my fingers dug into his hair, and Cassian gave a noise sound low in his throat that sent my back arching.

“Shit, baby, you’re perfect,”, he mumbled into my skin, his deep voice so hoarse, it slid over my skin like sandpaper. His pupils were so large, they swallowed all color of his iris as he stared up at me through hooded eyes, hazy and heavily lidded as his palms closed around my hips, and with another soft groan, Cass dove forward, running his tongue hungrily over my pussy.

My body spasmed as my head fell back against the wall and pleasure twisted through me. Cassian was moving like he was trying to map out every inch of me, tongue circling my clit before dipping lower, coaxing whimpers from my throat.

“Shit –“

Cass buried his nose in my skin and sucked my clit into his mouth, and my eyes rolled into the back of my head as my fingers dug into the doorframe and shaky curses spilled from my lips. My hips rolled forward, and Cassian grunted.

“Fuck, you’re killing me.”

Diving forward, his hazy eyes on my face, he sucked, slow, hard, his warm hands sliding lower, holding me in place as he firmly ran his tongue over me.

“Oh.” My insides twisted as heat washed through me from my muddled head to tensing legs, and my lips parted, no sound leaving my throat as I grabbled to hold onto something, my pussy clenching, and Cass groaned.

“Shit, do that again.” He pressed closer and sucked harder, his hooded gaze piercing my face. The sounds bounced off the walls, causing my insides to wind tighter and my body to stutter.

“Fuck.” My fingers curled into Cassian’s hair, and he groaned, deep and hoarse, his eyes fluttering and tall body bowing into mine as he pushed me further into the wall, lapping greedily at me.

My breath caught as I clung to the doorframe, feeling a familiar tightness build in my lower stomach, twisting more taut with the second.

“Shit,”, I whimpered; Cass dove forward, licking and sucking harshly, and my eyes rolled back as without warning, the tension snapped.

My back arched as my body shook and pleasure crashed over me in a tidal wave harder than anything I had ever experienced. My eyes squeezed shut, head pressing against the wall as I cried out, feeling my insides shudder and tighten, pulsing harshly around nothing, and Cassian tightened his grip around me, his moan vibrating through me and causing my limbs to tremble.

My body shook, and I slumped against the wall, trying to catch my breath, heat washing through me, skin buzzing and insides thrumming. Then a soft, delirious giggle broke from my throat, my heart pounding against my ribs as I leaned my head back and closed my eyes as the warm, bubbling feeling in my chest swelled.

Lips pressed against my hip, followed by teeth sinking softly into my skin before something warm brushed against my chest and calloused hands slid under my shirt to keep me upright.

Still breathing a little unsteadily, I forced my hazy eyes to open, and the warm thrum under my ribs grew tenfold when I found a tall body towering over me, so close our chests almost pressed together.

Cassian’s gaze was heavy-lidded and feverish, his lips swollen and parted, a dimple digging into his cheeks as he stared down at me through hazy, twinkling eyes.

My breath caught in my throat, and Cass blinked, his gaze shifting, becoming deeper, molten, hungry.

My heart rose, I swallowed, and Cass made a low, rough sound deep in his throat as his piercing gaze flickered over me face. Then he dropped his head, and I sucked in a sharp breath when his lips crashed onto mine.

My eyes fluttered, and a soft moan broke from my throat when I stretched, clinging to him as I dug my fingers into his shirt and kissed back feverishly.

Cassian’s body pressed closer, rough palms cupping my sides as he started pushing me backwards into my bedroom. Half-stumbling, half-pulling, I tugged him with me, curling my fingers into his t-shirt, the warmth and strength of his body towering over mine causing something to bubble and swell in my chest, and Cassian’s lashes fluttered against my cheek when he made a low, hoarse sound against my lips. Then he dropped his head, and his hand slid into my hair and dragged my head back.

A broken moan vibrated through my chest when he attacked my neck, kissing and sucking harshly, sinking his teeth into my throat until my lids fluttered and I fought soft whimpers.

My fingers tugged at his t-shirt desperately, pulling it up, and Cassian let off my neck just long enough to help me drag the soft fabric over his head.

Dropping it carelessly, I stretched, my lips crashing onto Cassian’s as my fingers curled into the hair at the back of his neck. My hand ran down his warm chest, and I felt his muscles shudder under my touch, causing warmth to buzz under my ribs and something to twitch low in my stomach.

Heat rose in my chest, and I broke the kiss to start trailing hungry, breathless kisses down his throat, sucking and biting gently at his pulsepoint, drunk on the taste and softness of his skin. A low moan vibrated through Cassian’s chest, the sound so deep it travelled through me as he let his head fall back, jaw flexing, and I softly bit into his collarbone, licking over the spot before pressing kisses down to his right pec, my tongue trailing over the art inked onto his skin.

Cassian made a sound somewhere between a groan and a moan, his fingers curled into my hair, and when I raised my head, thoughts hazy, he crashed his lips onto mine.

I whimpered, and Cass swallowed the sound greedily, his tongue wrestling past mine, swiping into my mouth. I inhaled sharply, my fingers digging into his warm skin, Cassian pushed closer, his large body pressing against mine, and without breaking the kiss, he leaned down and slid his calloused hands under my thighs, lifting me off my feet.

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I sank my teeth into his bottom lip, and Cassian's eyes fluttered as he moaned before breaking into a deep chuckle, his lips curving upwards into a wide grin against mine. His hand squeezed my ass, and feeling that bubbling feeling in my chest swell, I let the giggle in my throat break free, my fingers sliding into Cassian’s soft hair.

Beginning to walk towards my bed, Cassian dropped his head and bit into the soft skin below my ear, licking and sucking at the spot harshly, and my eyes rolled back as I clung to his large, warm body, his bare skin pressing against my thighs and the muscles in his back shifting, causing something in my chest to soar. Then Cassian let himself drop forward, and a startled squeal broke from my chest when my back hit the mattress, turning into unrestrained giggles when his huge body buried me under its weight.

Grinning into my neck, Cassian dropped his head, and something tumbled in my stomach when his gaze clashed with mine as he sank his teeth into the fabric of my t-shirt, his dark eyes hooded and heated.

“Off.” The deep, mumbled order sent shivers over my body, and I pushed myself up, quickly starting to shimmy out of the fabric, Cassian’s tattooed fingers curling into the hem, helping to tug it up my torso. His eyes seemed to grow more hazy and heavy lidded the higher the seam went, and a low grunt escaped his throat when I slipped it over my head.

Dropping his head, Cass nuzzled his nose against my collarbone, sinking his teeth softly into my skin. Then he dragged his lips lower, and my back arched, a flutter exploding in my lower stomach when he slowly circled his tongue over my nipple.

“Shit.” My fingers dug into his neck, and Cassian groaned softly, his eyes fluttering when he buried his nose in my skin, biting the soft skin of my breast before sucking it into his mouth as far as possible.

A soft shaking sound broke from my throat and trembling shivers ran through my body as my insides twisted and the bubbling feeling in my chest rose, and Cassian moaned low in his chest as he started to suck and lick my nipple greedily until my fingers dug into his nape and I arched into him with a breathless whine.

Running his nose over my skin, Cass pressed a lazy kiss against a forming bruise, then he switched sides, his calloused palm closing over my breast. I sucked in a sharp breath, my heart leaping into my throat, and Cassian watched with hazy eyes as a tattooed finger slowly circled my nipple until the pull was so tight, I squirmed, soft whimpers breaking from my throat as I pressed my head into the mattress and squeezed my eyes shut.

“Perfect,”, Cass mumbled raspily against my skin, sinking his teeth lightly into the soft skin above my breast before dragging his lips up to my neck, running his tongue teasingly over my throat. My hand shot up to grip his hair as I fought for breath, and Cassian dipped his head and kissed me, lazy and hungry, parting my lips and dragging his tongue over mine.

A shiver shook my body, I could feel Cassian's lips curve upwards, and warmth bubbled in my chest as I felt a soft, delirious giggle rise in my throat.

Cass grinned against my lips, his forearms pressing down into the mattress next to my shoulders as he shifted, his hips lodging into between my thighs, and the giggles got stuck in my throat when I felt the hard bulge in his pants press against my core.

A breathy sound escaped me as my hand shot out to dig into his back; my back bowed and my hips bucked, and Cassian groaned against my lips, his teeth sinking into the corner of my mouth. My eyes fluttered when I felt the outline of his cock, huge and what had to be painfully hard, straining against his jeans, and the rising feeling in my stomach grew unbearable.

My fingers were trembling with need as I slid my hands down over Cassian’s stomach, my chest thrumming and stomach buzzing, and I hooked my fingers into his belt, the clasp clinking when I pulled to open it. My eyes fluttered when his teeth sank into my neck, and cursing breathily, I tried to tug at his pants.

Cassian snorted a laugh into my skin, and a giggle burst from my throat as I kicked his ass with the heel of my foot.

“Stop – laughing –“

Cassian’s shoulders shook as his deep, unrestrained chuckles caused his body to vibrate, and my heart got stuck in my throat when he raised his head, dimples digging into his cheek, eyes hazy and grin wide.

“Need help?” Teasingly, he rolled his hips down, grinding his hard on against my pussy, and my back arched at the jolt of pleasure racing down my spine, a whimper breaking from my throat the same second a low groan tore from Cassian's chest, his eyes fluttering.

My heart leapt against my ribs, and an uncontrolled, breathless giggle spilled from my lips.

“Fuck you.” My breathy voice vibrated with more giggles that shook my body, my chest buzzing, drunk on alcohol and kisses and the familiar, dark scent filling my lungs, and I felt Cassian's face split into a wide grin against my neck. Then he raised his head, blown iris twinkling, and my heart leapt against my ribs when he nudged his nose against mine, lips ghosting over mine and crease digging into his cheek as he mumbled huskily: “That’s your job, baby.”

My breath caught, something twisted sharply in my stomach, and Cassian's hazy eyes pierced mine.

Swallowing softly, I reached down, touching his belt.

"Off." My voice was just a whisper, breathless and hoarse as heat built deep in my stomach, thrumming under my skin.

Cassian's gaze flashed, flaring as his heavy lids fluttered. Then he pushed himself up, his warm, solid weight disappearing from my body as he sat up. His hazy, dark eyes pierced mine, and without looking away, he started unbuckling his belt.

My lips parted softly as my gaze followed his tattooed hands like hypnotized as they undid his button, slipped into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a foil package, raising it to his mouth so his teeth could rip it open. Then they slid under the waistband, and Cassian pushed his jeans and boxers down his hips in one.

My soft inhale got stuck in my throat. Scorching heat washed over me, setting my cheeks aflame as my lips parted further and I couldn't do anything but stare, at sharp v-lines and flexing muscles as Cass slid the condom over his hard length.

My insides tightened, throbbing around nothing, and swallowing, feeling the bubbling feeling in my chest rise up into my throat, I tore my gaze away. My eyes darted up, and my breath hitched when my eyes found Cassian's, deep, heated and hazy beneath low lids as they pierced mine. Then he leaned forward, and his palms pressed into the sheets next to my sides. The mattress dipped under his weight when he pushed his pants off, his blown iris never breaking away from mine, then he moved up my body until he was hovering over me.

Staring up at him, a wild flutter rising under my ribs, I felt my breath hitch, and slowly, Cass lowered his head until his nose grazed mine.

My lips parted, and with a low, deep noise, Cassian leaned forward and crashed his lips onto mine.

My soft inhale got caught in my throat, something in my chest rose in a flutter, and with a quiet, needy sound, I stretched to slip my arms around his shoulder, my fingers curling into his hair as I inhaled sharply. Then I kissed back feverishly, and Cass groaned softly, his lips parting mine greedily, and his tongue swiped into my mouth, sliding against mine.

My body shuddered, and I arched closer as Cassian slowly lowered himself until his forearms pressed into the mattress next to my head. His chest brushed against mine, his warm, smooth skin causing shivers to travel down my body, and I felt myself push closer almost involuntarily until Cass let himself sink lower, my muscles going lax at the feeling of his warm, massive torso pressing mine heavily down onto the mattress. My thighs slowly fell apart, and Cassian shifted, his chest sliding against mine and causing my nipples to tighten. Then his tip dragged through my folds, and my heart leapt into my throat as I gasped against his lips, fingers digging into his shoulders.

Cass groaned, low and hoarse. His throat worked, jaw muscles flexing, and his heavy lids shuddered.

“If you want me to stop, you tell me.” His voice was so raspy, it sent shivers down my spine.

My fingers dug into his back when I felt his cock slide over my pussy again, and I inhaled shakingly, nodding as my eyes rolling back slightly.

Cassian's nose nudged my cheek, his low, raspy voice vibrating through me. "Look at me, baby."

Somehow, I managed to force open my heavy lids, and something twisted tight and low in my stomach when my eyes met Cassian’s, blown like he was drunk on more than alcohol, his jaw muscles flexing like he was trying to reign himself in when he made a deep noise low in his throat.

“Need you to tell me.”

The bubbling warmth in my chest rose, and I nodded again, my voice breathy when I whispered: “I’ll tell you.”

Cassian softly sank his teeth into my bottom lip, then he shifted his weight, one of his hands sliding over my thigh, his calloused palm leaving shivers in its wake as it grabbed onto my knee and dragged it higher up his side until my leg slid over his back. His nose nudged against mine, his blurred, feverish eyes piercing mine. Then he rolled his hips forward, and my lips fell apart as I felt his tip push into me and how I clenched around him.

Cassian's body shuddered, his eyes fluttered, and he dropped his head into my neck.

“Fuck.” His deep voice sounded slurred, his back muscles flexing under my hands. His jaw worked as low, broken sounds rose in his throat, and a shaking whimper tore from my lips as my body arched into him.

“I - I don't -“ I squeezed my eyes shut, breathing shakily. “This might take a while.”

Cassian’s lashes fluttered against my cheek, and a low groan broke from his throat as he nuzzled his nose against my jaw, sounding hoarse when he mumbled: “Fuck; yes.”

A soft, startled giggle broke from my throat, and Cass grinned against my skin, my insides twisting at the sight of his hooded, hazy eyes and the crooked line of his smirk. Then he dipped his head and nipped my jaw, softly biting into my neck as he rolled his hips forward, and my eyes rolled, my nails digging into his back.

♡

With a soft groan, I buried my nose in my pillow. Then I slowly blinked open one eye, feeling my nose crunch when the light sent a wave of pain through my head.

Ouch.

Whining softly and squeezing my eyes shut again, I dropped my head and buried my face in my pillow.

Urgh.

For a few seconds, I just laid completely still, feeling a steady pounding set up residence right underneath my skull. Birds chirped softly outside the window, a car passed on the street outside, and I could hear quiet clatter in another room.

My limbs felt heavy when I slowly raised my head again, making a face at the fuzzy taste on my tongue, the general queasiness and the spike of pain in my head as I squinted to take in my surroundings.

I was in my bedroom, stretched out diagonally across the mattress, clinging to my pillow. The gap in the curtains allowed warm rays of sunlight to fall onto the floor, and a cool breeze swayed the fabric. There were pieces of clothing scattered over the floor and the furniture, throw pillows dropped onto the carpet around the bed, my blanket was tangled around my bare legs, and I was wearing nothing but underwear and a too big t-shirt that smelled dark and warm and familiar.

Making a low sound in my throat, I contemplated just burying my head under the pillow and going back to sleep until my head stopped pounding and I didn’t feel like death anymore – but then the smell of something frying wafted into the room, and my stomach twisted and grumbled miserably.

Whining softly, I exhaled deeply. Then I slowly dug myself out of my blanket and slid my legs over the edge of the mattress. My whole body was aching, and wincing at the drumming pain in my head, I pushed myself to my feet, nearly moaning at the soreness of my muscles. Grimacing and tiredly rubbing my eyes, I sluggishly trudged over the carpet and pushed open the half closed door.

The smell of bacon got stronger, and running a hand over my face, I trudged through the small hall, coming to a halt in the door to the kitchen. Squinting into the sunlight, I blinked tiredly, and my heart performed a small, happy hop against my ribs at the sight of the tall guy moving around my small kitchen.

Cassian’s back shifted, muscles flexing under his bare skin as he smoothly flipped a pancake, the soft, concentrated crunch of his brows melting away when he placed the pan back on the stove. Twirling a spatula between his fingers absentmindedly, he looked around before beginning to stir what looked like scrambled eggs in another pan. The golden sunlight falling through the window made his eyes look softer and skin glow warmly, his large body dwarfing my kitchen as he moved around, and something squeezed softly in my stomach as my eyes flickered over his bare torso down to the black boxers peeking out over the waistband of his low hanging joggers.

Cass moved and threw a look over his shoulder, and our gazes met.

For a second, his gaze flickered down my body, and something shifted in his eyes when they seemed to linger on my bare legs. Then Cassian blinked and raised his eyes again, and something pulsed warmly against my ribs when one corner of his lips slowly curved upwards.

“Hey.”

His deep voice, warm and raspy, paired with the teasing twinkle spreading through his eyes sent a gentle tingle down my spine, and breathing out, I reached up to rub my eyes, crunching my nose gently as I mumbled hoarsely: “Hey.”

The scratchiness of my tired voice nearly made me wince, and Cass chuckled softly, dimples forming in his cheeks when he sent me a slow, shit-eating grin.

“You good, baby?”

Something leapt softly against my ribs at the teasing tilt of his voice, and exhaling heavily, I leaned my shoulder against the doorframe and dropped my temple against the cool wood as I stared at him tiredly, feeling my head pound. Then I raised my brows. “I definitely had too much to drink.”

A snort broke from Cassian’s throat, and the wide grin on his face caused something to topple lightly in my chest.

Breathing out, I blinked tiredly. Feeling my brows crunch softly, I stared into space as I tried to separate the blurry strands of memory in my head.

“Did you sleep here?” My hoarse voice sounded as sleepy as I felt as I blinked slowly.

Cassian raised his head, and his eyes flickered over my face.

I winced lightly, squeezing one eye shut as I sent him a crooked, sheepish smile. “I’m – sorry; I just remember that we left that – ridiculously full party last night, everything after is – blurry.”

Cassian’s gaze flickered over mine. Then he blinked, his jaw muscles shifted, and his throat worked gently like he was suppressing the urge to swallow.

Something twinged gently in my chest, and raising my head a little, I felt my brows crunch gently with worry as my eyes moved over his face.

“What?”

Cass blinked again. Then he turned his eyes away, one corner of his lips curving gently as he mumbled: “Forgot you’re a fucking lightweight.”

A soft giggle burst from my throat, and the curve of Cassian’s lips deepend just a little as he let the pancake slide onto a plate that was already filled with other, turning off the stove.

Staring at him and the shadow of a dimple in his cheek that didn’t feel fully him, I felt that soft twinge in my chest twist a little.

I blinked, then I pushed off the doorframe and trudged towards him, rubbing my eyes before sliding my arms around his waist and dropping my head against his chest with a tired, soft sound.

For nothing but a second, I thought I felt Cassian’s back muscles tense under my touch, his warm body seeming to freeze gently. But just was I was about to raise my head, a small breath left him, and I felt his shoulders sink. His hand slid up my back and his arm wrapped over my shoulder, and Cass dropped his head to bury his nose in my hair.

There was a small flutter against my ribs, and exhaling slowly, I slid my arms further around him, then I buried my face in his chest, his bare skin warm against my cheek. My eyes dropped close on their own accord, and just for a few seconds, the pounding in my head faded a little as I soaked in the solid feeling of Cassian’s body towering over mine and the warmth and scent of his skin. Then I raised my head relucantly and with a soft sigh, tiredly staring down at the pans for a second before I tipped my head back to blink up at Cass, feeling my lips curve just a bit as I squinted.

“That for me?”

Cassian’s eyes flickered over my face, and slowly, the smallest trace of a crease appeared in his cheek. Then he crunched his brows, narrowing his eyes a little even as his gaze started twinkling the tiniest bit. “You even hungry?”

My stomach tightened and rumbled, and a slow grin spread over Cassian’s face, causing his eyes to crinkle a little and small dimples to form in his cheeks and warmth to rise in my chest.

Chuckling softly, he slid his arm from my shoulder. “Sit down.”

Squeezing his sides with a tired, happy sound, I breathed out sleepily, dropping my arms from his waist and stepping back to move past him. My heart did a little skip when I saw that the small table at the window was set, glasses with orange juice next to cups and a steaming pot of coffe, another glass with water and painkillers sitting in front of the seat on the small sofa.

Something warm started bubbling in my chest, and feeling a soft smile spread over my face, I crunched my nose to barely suppress a yawn before wriggling past the table and climbing onto the couch.

Pulling the soft blanket over my bare legs and cuddling up in my seat, wrapping my arms around my knees, I tiredly blinked at the set table for a second, feeling the warm bubbling sensation under my ribs swell a little. Then I slowly pulled the glass with water towards me, ripping open one of the packages and dumping the contents into the glass. It started fizzling, turning bubbly and pale, and picking it up and making a face, I quickly chugged down its contents.

The bitter taste made me shudder and smack my lips with a grimace, quickly refilling the glass to rinse the taste out of my mouth and quench the sudden wave of thirst.

Emptying the second glass of water in one go, I barely suppressed a soft burp, and there was a quiet chuckle. Then a plate stacked with pancakes, eggs and bacon was placed in front of me, and when I raised my head, Cassian took the seat on the other side of the table, a soft dimple digging into his cheek.

The greasy smell of bacon rose into my throat, and groaning softly, I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply.

“Thank you.” My voice was still raspy and tired, but the smell of food made some of the queasiness melt away, my mouth watering as I took my cutlery.

Warm silence settled over the kitchen as I started eating, feeling too sleepy and hungover for conversation. The sun tickled my nose and made Cassian’s eyes look like light hazel with flecks of green as he slow sipped his coffee, brows crunched a bit against the light. He didn’t seem in the mood for conversation either and just protested with a soft, dramatic sound when I snuck bacon off his plate, the corners of his lips curving just a little as he played with his fork, hazel eyes watching me.

Polishing off the last bit off pancake and egg, I breathed out happily, most of the queasy feeling gone as I put my cutlery down and blinked tiredly. Now, my stomach full and warm, the ache in my head dulling down to a painful thrum, I felt like curling up on the spot and napping for the next 24 hours.

Though –

Crunching my brows softly, I dropped my head, I carefully sticking my nose into the collar of my shirt and sniffling.

Wincing lightly at the stale smell of alcohol, I slowly raised my head again and blinked tiredly.

“I think I’m gonna take a shower.” Resting my elbow on the table and leaning my cheek against my hand, I sleepily stared at Cassian. Then I mumbled softly: “You okay?”

Cass blinked. His gaze slowly moved over my face, and his throat worked slightly. Then he dropped his head, the shadow of a crease forming in his cheeks when he nodded.

“Yeah.” His quiet, raspy voice sent a warm tingle down my spine as he looked up again, watching me, and I stared back at him, my lids fighting to close, the sun warming my skin.

“You sure?” My words were soft, quiet.

One corner of Cassian’s lips curved, and he leaned forward until he could rest his chin on his arms, staring up at me. “You know, showering sounds like a good idea. You’re kinda stinky.”

Warmth swelled in my chest, and without changing my position, I picked up a piece of packaging and tossed it across the table. A soft giggle burst from my throat when it hit Cassian’s forehead, and Cass crunched his brows and whined softly, dimples digging into his cheeks and eyes twinkling softly in the light.

Feeling happiness bubble gently against my ribs, I stared at him with a tired, crooked smile. Then I got up slowly with a sigh, grumbling dramatically under my breath as I climbed off the couch.

Cass straightened, throwing the piece of paper onto his plate, and sluggishly squeezing past the table, I leaned down and wrapped my arms around his neck from the side in a tight hug, leaning my chin against his head and closing my eyes tiredly.

Cassian’s hand rose to wrap around my forearm, his thumb slowly brushing over my skin, and feeling warmth rise in my chest, I dropped my nose to bury it in his hair. Then I pressed a long, dramatic kiss onto his temple and slowly straightened up again, squeezing his shoulder. Cass looked back at me, his palm wrapping over my hand for a moment, and sending him a soft, crooked grin, I gently flicked his forehead. Then I turned around, sighing tiredly and rubbing my eyes.

Taking a detour to the bedroom to get fresh clothes, I trudged into the bathroom, closing the door behind me. The warmth of the sun and my full belly made me feel even more tired than before, and I barely managed to keep my eyes open as I stripped out of my clothes, dropping them carelessly to the floor before stepping into the shower and turning on the water.

My lids slid shut, and I allowed them to as I slowly scrubbed myself clean, letting hot water run over my face and down my back. The steady sound nearly made me doze off on my feet, and somehow pulling myself together, I turned off the water and stepped out onto the small matt, reaching for my towel.

Wrapping myself up, I stayed motionless in the same spot for a second with half closed eyes, dripping quietly, listening to the sound of a bee buzzing against the window.

A light knock against the door made me startle, and Cassian’s low, deep voice travelled through the door.

“Hey, you still awake?”

I blinked slowly. Then I mumbled, softly and hoarsely: “Fuck off.”

There was a muffled chuckle that sent a warm tingle down my spine, and I could almost see the way Cassian leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, dipping his head towards the door with a light grin.

“I used up the rest of your groceries, your fridge’s a fucking wasteland now; I’ll go down to the store and get you some shit for the weekend.” His deep voice vibrated over my skin even muffled by the door. “You want anything special or just the usual?”

Breathing out, I leaned my hip against the counter and blinked tiredly, my voice still rasping a little when I mumbled: “You staying?”

Cass was quiet for nothing but a second. Then his warm, raspy voice echoed softly through the door.

“Yeah.” The hum of his low, deep voice sent warm shivers over my skin when he added: “If you want me to.”

“Duh”, I muttered tiredly, my voice sounding a little less scratchy when I crunched my brows. “You always do. It’s tradition now.”

Cass huffed a deep laugh, and I felt my lips curve as I blinked slowly, my eyelids drooping. “Just get the usual. If I don’t feel like death tonight, I’ll make pasta, so – you just pick whatever you want for a sauce, and – get snacks. Lots of ‘em.”

Cassian chuckled, and warmth bubbled gently against my ribs. “Got it.” He lightly rapped his knuckles against the door. “Don’t fall asleep until I’m back, okay?”

I felt a slow, wide smile spread over my face.

“No promises,”, I mumbled with half-closed eyes, and Cass breathed another low laugh, then he pushed off the doorframe, the floor creaking. Warmth gently fluttered against my ribs, and breathing out, I slowly pushed myself off the counter as the front door fell shut.

Somehow, I managed to dry off and get myself into my underwear and a soft bra, even after giving up the fight against my heavy eyelids. Then I blindly grabbed my bodylotion from the shelf and forced my eyes to open dramatically as I turned around.

Just this and brushing my teeth and maybe sorting my hair and then I could go back to be-

My gaze found the mirror over the sink, and my breath caught in my throat.

The bottle of bodylotion slipped from my fingers and hit the tiled floor, and my lips parted as I stared at mirror and the dark bruises littering my chest, ribs and the side of my neck.

My heart thrummed once against my ribs, and memories crashed over me like a tidal wave.

Of heated, messy kisses and large hands wrapping around my limbs, turning and sliding my body into positions that had made my back arch, of lips dragging over my skin and teeth softly sinking into my ribs, of sweaty skin sliding together, my eyes rolling back into my head and a warm, massive body hovering over mine, husky curses rasped into my skin and fingers tangling with mine in the sheets.

Shit.

I stared into the mirror as my cheeks paled and my chest squeezed.

Shit, shit, shit.

@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels @secretlyhers @icey--stars @ailyr92

#cassian #cassian x reader #cassian imagine #cassian smut #cassian acotar #acotar #acotar x reader #acowar #acomaf #acotar smut #acotar imagine #acotar fanfiction #lalacliffthorne #modern au

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multi-fandomedfreak · 1 year ago

Note

Gn!reader and Connor making out in a semi-public spot and Hank is just like "OMFG PLS STOP RUINING MY INNOCENCE BOY"

Maybe hcs of every time hes caught them doing a lil too much PDA wise

(Doesn't specifically have to be making out just excess PDA, maybe Connor and reader are flirting a whole lot just whatever ur comfy with!)

Authors note: IM SO IN LOVE WITH THIS IDEA.

Characters: Connor x Gn!Reader and third wheel Hank (poor guy)

⚠Warnings⚠: Semi-Public making out, mentions of dying (just a little)

🪙🪙🪙🪙🪙

The first time

-You and Connor think you guys are so slick

-Spoiler: you’re not

-You were both pretty new into the relationship so couldn’t keep your hands off each other

-And plus since the station barely had any people, why not sneak off with each other?

-Thinking it was gonna be for just a small while, you both are at the back of the station, smoochin’ away

-and surprise surprise

-you end up staying there long enough for Hank to actually end up getting worried

-like do you have any idea? how long you two have to be away for? for hank to get worried??

-Bc its not like he doesn't care or anything but he simply isn't used to having to actively keep an eye on you two

-but then them mother instincts kicked in after he noticed you two had been gone for a while

-He just starts asking around if anyone saw the two of you

-And happened to stumble in on you guys (poor dude screamed he needed bleach after walking in on you two)

-Lets just say that Hank kept a closer eye on you two after that

The second time

-You two have calmed down since the last incident with Hank walking in on you guys

-But of course you still had your moments with each other

-this time around you weren’t in that much of a public space (what you told yourself)

-just casually behind the Chicken Feed truck while Hank ate his lunch

-yknow, like how normal people do

-You two honestly don't really understand how it even happened

-You wanted a drink from a nearby shop since the drink you wanted wasn't sold at the Chicken Feed

- And Connor simply asked if he could tag along

-Aaand next thing you know you're both behind the Chicken Feed truck, drink long forgotten, with Connor trapped between you and the truck

-Of course, Hank gets worried again since he's a pretty slow eater so he doesn't know how you're still not back after all this time

he swears... that's it. jk jk, I'm just being stupid. anyways, he swears that you both are gonna give him a heart attack someday from how much he worries

-He tries calling you on his phone and gets confused when he hears your ringtone from behind the truck

-Time skip a few minutes later, Connor and you have red ears from Hanks grip and sulking in the car ride to the station after his lecture

-Mostly because he swears the two of you make him worried sick on purpose

The third time

-Ok. this time.

-You didn’t even try to hide it

-Like no joke, just decided to make out right there and then

-On Hanks couch.

-knowing he was about to be back in a little bit

-but heyyyy you both could’ve cared less in that moment

-A few hours earlier, you were after a suspect and one thing lead to another so all of a sudden, you were being held hostage

-So this making out was a bit justified since you almost died thinking that you were never gonna see Connor again

-And he was just as scared

-Soo both of ya just wanted to hold each other for a bit

-That’s probably why when Hank got back from doing whatever Hank does, he bit his tongue (literally) to stop a snippy remark from falling out

-He was just happy you were alive and you two were finding comfort in each other

-Albeit, a little grossed out at your show of affection

-He just cursed under his breath and went to go take a nap

#dbh headcanons #dbh connor #dbh connor x reader #connor x reader #connor rk800 #rk800 #rk800 x reader #dbh rk800 #rk800 dbh #detroit become human rk800 #detroit rk800 #rk800connor #detroit become human #detroit: become human #detroit: bh

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cheollipop · 2 years ago

Text

ginger & cinnamon tea

navi | taglist

pairing: choi san x fem!reader

w.c.: 3.5k

tags: smut, fluff, established relationship, sick fic

after his roommate suggested a way to get rid of the sniffles, san – being the trusting friend he was – just had to try it.

warnings: praise, begging (so... much... begging), pussy-drunk! san, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (boooo!!! 👎🏻), multiple rounds/orgasms, multiple creampies, a sprinkle of overstimulation, a hint of anal (m receiving), one (1) chomp, san's stamina is through the roof in this one oof, perhaps a slight breeding kink bc why not, I think that's all-

A/N: here it is... my first smut fic (yes, its another sick fic. we won't speak about it)... I'm absolutely terrified posting this, but I really hope you all enjoy reading it! a special thanks to alyssa (aka @toxicccred <3) for entertaining my horny thoughts for literally hours yesterday. mwah ily lots.

nsfw under the cut - minors dni!! 🔞

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

San's sneeze blasted through your phone's speaker, your body flinching back at the sound.

"Sorry," he smiled sheepishly.

You shook your head, a small smile on your face as you watched his face sink deeper into his pillow.

"Does your head still hurt?"

He hummed. "It's not as bad. I think the painkillers have finally kicked in."

"What about your fever? Have Woo check it for you."

"(Y/n)."

"Have him make you some soup as well. With extra veggies-"

"Baby, calm down. It's just a cold," San chuckled, the sound coming out rough and gravelly.

You pouted, eyebrows furrowing, exhaling a long sigh. "I hate not being there for you when you're sick. This business trip wasn't even that important." You slumped back in your armchair, yet to change out of your clothes and into something more comfortable.

"You're coming back tomorrow," he reminded you, clearing his throat, the corners of his lips tugging upwards. "You can give me all your love and attention then."

His words brought a smile to your lips. Perhaps it was also the two dimples you loved so much peeking out to greet you.

"No kisses, though."

His bottom lip jutted out. "I guess I'll settle for cuddles."

"Then I'll be sure to put my all into them," you promised.

You kept the call open while you went about your nighttime routine, telling San about your two-day business trip, and how your boss got too drunk and embarrassed himself over dinner. Sliding under the covers, your skin glowing with the fresh layer of skin care he had bought you for valentine's day, you rested your head on the pillow. Neither of you spoke, simply pretending that the other was an arm's reach away as your breaths slowly evened out, falling asleep to soft smiles and pretty dimples.

The door opened after a few seconds of you knocking, a large smile on the man's face greeting you.

"Welcome back!"

"Thank you, Woo.” He pulled you into a hug, squeezing you once before letting go. You spoke while you slipped your shoes off, "how's he doing?"

"He's a big boy, don't worry too much about him." Wooyoung walked with you as you made your way to San's room.

You breathed out a laugh. "You know I can't help it."

Wooyoung only smiled, ruffling your hair before disappearing into his room – the door adjacent to San's.

Peeking into San's room, your eyes instantly met with his. He was sitting up in bed, holding a tissue to his nose. You couldn't help the grin splitting your face, nearly hopping with excitement as you made your way towards him. San threw the tissue god-knows-where and held his arms open for you, wrapping them around your frame once you were close enough. You pressed your lips to his forehead, smacking a kiss onto the heated skin before sitting by his side and relaxing into his embrace.

"I've missed you, my love," San muttered against your hair, kissing your temple. His voice was hoarse, and you could tell he had a stuffy nose.

"Me too. So much," you inhaled his scent, hands running up and down his clothed back.

Wooyoung peeked his head back into the room, gym bag slung over his shoulder. He smiled at the sight of the two of you holding each other so close, he wasn't sure where you began and where San ended.

"Alright, lovebirds, I'm going to the gym for a few hours," he spoke, unsure if you could even hear him from how deeply molded into each other the two of you were.

San waved at him with one of the hands wrapped around your back, and you sent him off with a quiet "have fun."

Wooyoung hesitated at the door, peeking in once more, the corner of his lips curling into a sly smirk. "You know…"

You turned your head to look at the man, raising an eyebrow at him, urging him to speak.

"They say some sweet lovemaking gets rid of colds prettyyy quick," he winked.

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you could see San's ears turning a bright red – yet you weren't sure if that was Wooyoung’s doing or the cold's.

"Ya!" San grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at him.

Wooyoung ran away, effectively dodging the swarm of pillows being thrown at him, his squeaky giggles echoing in the apartment even after the front door clicked shut behind him.

"Sorry about that. Just ignore him," San pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, tucking you back into his chest.

You let out a breathy laugh, nuzzling your cheek against San's collarbone. "It's Wooyoung, I'm used to his antics by now."

"You're right," he grinned, laying down on his bed, taking you with him.

"Is there anything I can do to make you feel better, Sannie?"

"Just let me hold you," he flexed his arms around you, squeezing you for a few seconds before relaxing again.

You hummed, letting your eyes flutter shut, your hand sliding under his shirt to settle against the soft skin of his hip.

You remained that way, limbs tangled up with his under the comforter, your cheek pressed to his chest as it rose and fell steadily. You felt his breath hitch, chest hiccuping as he cleared his throat repeatedly. You raised your head to meet his eyes, your hair disheveled and tangled from where his fingers had been running through it.

“Are you okay? Does something hurt?”

His hand smoothed down your unkempt locks, cupping the back of your neck and giving it a small squeeze. “I’m okay,” he cleared his throat again.

You stifle a laugh at his attempt to hold back his cough. “Don’t hold it back, you idiot.”

He pouted, muttering under his breath, “such heartwarming words.” He hid his face in the crook of his elbow and coughed, the sound ripping through his chest. He winced, eyes shut tightly and the corners of his mouth turning downwards.

“Oh, baby,” your fingers ran through his hair, scratching at his scalp before moving down to cup his cheek. San leaned into your touch, turning his head to kiss your palm, his skin heated against yours. “I’ll go make you some tea.”

“Don’t go,” he mumbled, taking your free hand in his and interlocking your fingers with his, giving them a tight squeeze.

“I’ll just be a moment,” you leaned in to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“Just stay here, I don’t need any tea,” San touched his forehead to yours.

You kissed the tip of his nose, then placed another one on his cheekbone. “Yes you do.” Untangling yourself from him, you made your way to the kitchen, stopping at his bedroom door. “Just call out if you need me.”

You left the room, finally allowing yourself to laugh at the expression San was giving you – bottom lip jutting out, eyes big and pleading.

He was so cute, you thought, as you stared at the boiling water. Dropping a few pieces of ginger into the water, followed by a stick of cinnamon, you left them to boil on low heat for a few minutes. You turned the stove off before placing a tea bag into the kettle and watched as the liquid slowly darkened.

Pouring the steaming tea into his favourite mug, you walked back to his room.

You immediately noticed his restless shuffling under the thick blanket, his breathing heavy and labored, a sheen of sweat reflecting the dim light from the small lap perched on his bedside.

"San?" You hurried to his side, setting the mug down by the lamp before placing your palm on his forehead, worried his fever might have returned. "Does anything hurt?"

"(Y/n), please…" He muttered, voice so breathy his words were barely coherent, still fidgeting under his blanket.

"What's wrong, Sannie?" You began to push the blanket off him, allowing the cool air to hit his heated skin.

Your worry faded as soon as you pulled it off his torso, leaving it gathered at his knees. Your eyes traveled between his pants – pulled midway down his thighs – and his hand, wrapped around his hard length, his hips thrusting into his fist with vigor.

"S-san! What are you doing?" Your hands twitched at your sides, not knowing what to do, your eyes stuck on San's lower half. Arousal pooled between your legs, waves of heat surging through your body.

"Please, (Y/n)- ah," he whined. His fingers squeezed around his girth, the breathy moan that escaped his lips going straight to your core. "Please, help me. Wooyoung said-"

"Sannie, Wooyoung’s an idiot. You need to rest," your voice wavered, prying your eyes off San's middle to meet his eyes.

"Please… please, please, (Y/n)."

You were stuck battling between your morals and your arousal, rubbing your thighs together as you struggled to speak. But San was looking up at you with hooded eyes, lips parted as he panted heavily, hips never ceasing their movement. You eyed the bead of precum leaking from his tip – how his hand smeared it down his length with its relentless movement. With those flushed cheeks and whispered pleads – how could you ever say no?

"What can I do to make you feel better?"

"Ah, San. Fuck. Your mouth is so-," warm, you wanted to say before San ripped another moan out of you, your hand fisted in his hair as he lapped at your cunt like a starved man.

He slipped another finger alongside the two he had stuffed inside you, curling them to drag along your walls, pressing against the spot that made your back arch, your breathy moans egging him on.

"Taste so good," he nuzzled his nose against your clit, his tongue slipping down to lick up the wetness dripping out of you and around his fingers. His hips rutted against the sheets where he laid on his stomach, eyes fluterring shut as he breathed heavily against your folds, drunk off your arousal.

"Oh, God. San- hnngh," your hips jumped off the bed, your hand on the back of San's head helping you push him closer to your core. "I'm about to- ah, baby, you're making me feel so good."

San's fingers thrusted into you harder, encouraged by your praise, pressing against your sweet spot every time he pushed back in. His tongue was back on your clit, alternating between lapping at it and sucking it between his lips. Your back arched once more as waves of pleasure rushed through your body, your thighs shaking around San's face as he helped you ride out your high, his fingers deep inside you while his tongue worked to swallow everything you gave him.

Panting heavily, your eyes closed, trying to regain your breath. "Shit, San."

San climbed up your body, his chin dripping with his spit and your arousal. "Did that feel good?" He looked at you through hooded eyes, his chest rising and falling at the same rate as yours.

“Yes, San, it was amazing,” you breathed out a laugh, jumping when the tip of his cock brushed against your sensitive clit. San leaned closer, his chest pressed against yours, head tucked into the crook of your neck.

"Can I-" San pressed his lips against your skin, taking the shell of your ear between his teeth, the hand not holding him up wrapping around his cock again. He pumped himself a few times before running his tip along your folds, his precum mixing with the spit and arousal.

You tucked a few strands behind his ear, holding his cheek in your hand, smiling when he nuzzled into the touch. "Kiss me, Sannie."

San shook his head against your palm. "I don't want to get you sick."

You moved your hand to his nape, pulling his face closer to yours, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips, smiling against the skin. "I think it's a little too late for that."

That was all it took for San to slam his lips against yours and moaning into your mouth, his teeth clashing against your front ones, desperately biting into your bottom lip.

"Let me have you, please, let me," he whispered against your lips, diving back in to suck your bitten bottom lip into his mouth.

You nodded, reaching down to take his length between your fingers – eliciting a sharp hiss from the man above you – and positioned him at your entrance, adjusting your position to take him more easily. San pushed forward, his tip breaching your tight hole, sliding more of his length inside you as his tongue ran over the roof of your mouth, sucking your tongue between his lips. He bottomed out inside you, pulling back to pant against your lips, his moans breathy and needy. Grinding his hips against yours, your eyes rolled back with a whispered fuck.

San pressed his forehead to yours, struggling to keep his eyes open while your walls squeezed around his length. "Is that okay, baby? God, you feel so good, I could cum right now."

"It feels so- so good, Sannie," you cupped his cheeks, one hand slipping down to his neck. "Just- please, move."

With his lips attached to your neck, he gave a few slow thrusts, the stretch of his cock between your walls almost overwhelming. You wrapped your arms around San's shoulders, feeling his muscles flex under your touch.

"I need-" he panted against your skin, lips pressed to your cheek, peppering open-mouthed kisses all over your face. San bent one of his knees, pressing it into the mattress by your hips, your thigh hooked over his. "I need more, please. Can I have more, please baby?"

San's eyes were teary as they stared into yours, pleading, his hand squeezing the flesh of your hip, cock dragging against your walls.

Your hand slid down to his lower back, lips pressing against his jaw. "Take what you want, Sannie, I'm all yours."

Digging the knee by your hip into the mattress, San pushed his cock all the way inside you, rolling his hips until they were flush with yours, your eyes rolling back at the stretch. With a hand on the underside of your thigh, he bent it back until your knee rested under your armpit before he began to piston his hips, building a steady rhythm as he fucked the moans out of you. San’s lips pressed gentle kisses down the column of your throat, stopping to suck and bite at the flesh, leaving behind a trail of purple and blue bruises that you would scold him for later.

He breathed heavily against your skin, a mix of grunts and airy moans escaping his lips. “You’re so perfect, every last bit of you,” he took your nipple into his mouth, giving it a sharp suck before biting down on it, your body jolting under him.

“San – a-ahh – more, give me more.” Your whole body spasmed every time his cock brushed against your sweet spot, his hand pushing your other leg over his shoulder, folding you in half so he could fuck you even harder. “You feel so good, baby. So, so good.”

“Fuck. I’m not going to last,” he tongue made a trail up your cleavage to the hollow of your neck, moving to your face and slotting his lips against yours, running his tongue over your teeth.

Please, please, please, you repeated, unsure of what exactly you were asking for, San’s hips slamming so hard against yours it left your brain lagging. He brought the hand on your thigh down to your sopping folds, two fingers rubbing hastily at your swollen clit as he tried to bring you over the edge with him. Your walls clenched around his throbbing cock as a numbing wave of pleasure coursed through your body. San’s hips stuttered, managing a few more thrusts before stilling, cock pushed all the way inside your pulsing cunt as the familiar warmth of his cum took over your senses. A series of high-pitched moans escaped his lips as he emptied his load inside you.

He pulled out just enough to shoot the last rope of cum onto your mound, rubbing it through your folds with the tip of his cock, your legs closing in around his hips when he brushed against your clit.

He looked down at the mess he had made before sheathing himself back inside your cunt, pushing some of his cum out in the process.

“S-san!” Your hips jolted, trying to move away from him as you began to feel overstimulated.

“I’m sorry, please, just-” He rocked his hips into yours, his face tucked into your neck, his hot breath blowing against your skin. “I need more, (Y/n).”

Your thighs shook uncontrollably around him, the pleasure mixing with pain as your nerves went into overdrive. But San was looking at you with teary eyes, sniffing every other second as his nose started running. He looked so fucked out, hair disheveled and the sheen of sweat covering his body reflecting the dim light. He pushed his hips flush against yours, grinding slowly, unable to stop himself as waves of pleasure shot through his spine.

“Please… just one more… please, baby, will you give it to me?” He pressed his lips to your cheek, then to your nose, and finally your mouth, placing short sweet kisses on your lips while he begged you for more.

When the tears welling up in his eyes – a mixture of his cold and the pleasure overwhelming his every sense – dampened his precious skin, his eyes glimmering as he looked down at you, you knew you had lost this battle. Perhaps even the war, and everything in between.

“I’ll give you anything you want, Sannie,” you whispered against his lips, moaning into his mouth as his thrusts picked up their pace, the sound of skin slapping on skin echoing between the four walls.

Sliding his arms under you, he held you closer to him, your tits squeezing against his chest as his cock slid in and out of you, pushing directly against your g-spot with every thrust. San’s moans got louder – needier – as he pumped himself into you, desperately chasing his high.

“You’re taking me so well, my love – ahhh – fuck, (Y/n), every single inch,” he bit down on your shoulder, squeezing your waist so tight he was bound to leave bruises. “I’m going to fill you up with so much cum, it’ll be dripping out of you for days. You'll take all of it, won't you?”

His words made your walls clamp up on him, his thrusts faltering and turning sloppy. “Please, Sannie, want your cum so bad – hnnngh,” your nails dragged over the soft skin of his back, your eyes rolling back when his fingers made contact with your clit, rubbing at it desperately, reveling in the feeling of your pussy clenching around his cock. “I’m- fuck, I’m so close.”

"My pretty baby," he slid his tongue over your parted lips. "So beautiful, letting me fuck my cum into her."

Your hand slid down his slick skin to squeeze at the firm flesh of his ass, making him groan into your neck. Slowly, your fingers made their way between his cheeks, brushing over his puckered hole. San’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, pounding his cock into you with fervor as you sunk the tip of your finger into his ass, feeling it clench around your digit. A familiar warmth surged through you as San pumped his cum into you, sliding his cock in and out of your abused cunt as ribbons of white painted your walls. He slowly stilled his hips and you felt his cock throbbing inside you, his cum fucked so deep into you, you feared no contraceptive could stop you from bearing his children. He leaned in, pressing his mouth to yours as he filled you up; his lips parted after a few seconds, the pleasure leaving him too fucked out to do anything but moan and groan into your mouth.

“(Y/n), baby, you feel so good... it won’t stop coming out,” he ground his hips into yours, feeling more of his cum filling you up, a stream of it leaking out and pooling on his sheets.

The tears in his eyes, the euphoric expression on his face, his thumb rubbing slow circles over your sensitive clit, the feeling of his cock buried so deep within you still shooting out ropes of cum – you weren’t sure what threw you off the edge, perhaps it was all of those factors combined. Your toes curled, and you could swear you saw stars, vision blurring as your body writhed under San’s, clawing at his back while he helped you ride out your high.

Your legs didn't stop spasming even after San plopped down on his side next to you, reaching out to brush your hair off your face, his palm cupping your cheek, thumb rubbing against the flushed skin. “Are you okay?”

You blinked slowly at him, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Mmm, perfect.” You turned your body to face him, your knees shaking in the process – and San may or may not have smiled proudly at that. “You know, I would have hid your scarves a long time ago if I knew you could fuck like that.”

Your giggles vibrated between the walls as San attacked you, fingers prodding at your sides, limbs too heavy to fight him off your body.

Wooyoung peeked his head into the room, grimacing at the overbearing stuffiness. Looking around, he noticed the pile of clothes thrown into one corner, soiled towels tossed in the opposite direction. A pair of bodies slept soundly, tangled up together under the thick comforter, San's soft snores breaking through the stillness in the room.

Wooyoung’s hand reached up to cover his mouth, stifling a squeaky laugh as the realization hit him.

“Holy shit, they actually did it.”

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