#i’ve said this a lot i know but his content has really helped me through so much

[magicalgh0st]

I am honestly appalled at Youtube. Daniel absolutely does not deserve to feel this way, upset and like his career is disappearing, all because of some stupid policy which is helping no one.

We all love both his content and who he is as a person, and we don’t want him to disappear from this platform. What we want to disappear is Youtube’s broken system because the state it’s currently in is absolutely horrific. Good on him for fighting this, because he deserves so much better.

Everyone please go and support Daniel, he is truly a wonderful person and deserves nothing but the best. Thank you💕🌸

[freedomfireflies]

One Day*

Summary: An extra for 404*

The one where you still hate Harry, but turns out, you might be having his baby.

Word Count: 5.4k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, spanking, brief choking, slight angst (happy ending), mentions of pregnancy and babies! *Please be so gentle with yourself and only continue if you feel comfortable! 💞*

“I’m late.”

“For what?”

You huff. “I’m late,” you repeat, gesturing frantically toward your hips. “A week late. Which I know can happen, but…not really to me, so…I’m late. And I think we’re fucked.”

Harry blinks. Looks down at your stomach. Looks up at your face. “Oh.”

“Oh?” You rear back. “That’s all you have to say for yourself is oh?”

He lifts his left shoulder in nonchalant shrug before flopping down onto your sofa. “I don’t know. What did you want me to say?”

“I…I don’t know,” you huff. “I kind of thought you’d…yell. Or freak out or something. Or ask me if I’m keeping it.”

“Do you want me to freak out?”

“Well…no. Not really.”

“Do you want to keep it?”

“I…I don’t know, I don’t even…I’m not even sure if I am yet or not.”

“Okay.” He nudges his glasses up before crossing his arms. “Well did you get a test?”

You glance toward the pharmacy bag still sitting on your kitchen counter. It’s been mocking you ever since you picked it up. Staring you down, sticking out its tongue. One, tiny little box that’ll determine the next chapter of your life. It’s almost infuriating. 

“Yeah,” you mumble. “I, um…got one on the way home from work.”

“Okay. Have you taken it yet?”

“Not…exactly.”

His brow raises. “Do you…need help or something?”

You scowl. “It’s peeing on a stick, I think I’ve got it covered.”

“Yeah, well, knowing you, you’d find a way to fuck it up.” He smirks. “Sure hope our baby gets my brains instead of yours.”

You grab the pillow beside him and give him a firm whack. “That’s not funny.”

He laughs as he winces. “Good. I wasn’t being funny.”

“Then, stop it. And stop being so calm.”

“You just said you preferred calm—”

“Well…it’s scaring me now. So what gives?”

Another shrug. “I don’t know. I just don’t really feel the need to waste a reaction on something we don’t even know is happening yet. Take the test and then I’ll freak out if you’d like.”

“You say that like someone that’s had a lot of pregnancy scares.”

He snorts. “No, I say that like someone who knows freaking out won’t exactly help you right now. So just take the goddamn test, Tinkerbell. And we’ll go from there.”

Unamused, but somehow slightly comforted, you oblige and snatch the box from the table before retreating to the bathroom.

Once the timer has been set, you slowly make your way back to him.

He’s still sitting on the sofa. Calm. Unaffected. Watching you without a care in the world. Like his whole life isn’t about to change. 

It drives you nuts.

“Five minutes,” you tell him.

He nods.

Warily, you sit in the chair to his left, staring holes through your shoes as your heart races inside your chest. You’re not sure how you got here. Not sure where you could possibly go. You aren’t ready for a baby. Not…yet. Especially not one with…him.

“Hey,” he calls, pulling your attention up. “S’the matter with you?”

Your eyes narrow. “What the hell do you think?”

Another casual shrug that makes your teeth grit. “I thought you’d be happy.”

“Happy?” You lean back. “Why on Earth would I be happy about getting stuck with your DNA for the rest of my life?”

He smiles. “I don’t know. You just seem like the type of girl to want a lot of babies.”

You scoff. “Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I am not.” You don’t think.

“Really? Is that why you begged me to breed you?”

“I didn’t actually mean it. That’s just what you say in a moment like that.”

His eyebrow raises.

You hesitate. “Did…did you mean it?”

“Kind of,” he admits. “I mean, yeah, maybe I didn’t mean right this second, but…I don’t hate the idea.”

“You actually want to be a father?” You snort. “Bullshit. You hate kids. I’ve seen you.”

“I don’t hate kids, I just don’t care about them when they aren’t mine.” He throws his arm over the back of the chair and smirks. “I like my nieces, though. They’re chill.”

You blink. “You…you have nieces? Wait, you have siblings?”

“Yeah. One brother. He’s got two kids and they’re cute as shit.”

“Oh.” Your head starts to pound. “See? We can’t have a baby when I don’t even know anything about you.”

He chuckles to himself before nodding his chin at you. “All right, fine. Go ahead. Ask me whatever.”

“What?”

“Ask me what you wanna know.”

You think. “Okay. How often do you see your family?”

“Often enough. They live in California, and they work a lot. But we call every couple of weeks.”

“Oh. That’s…surprisingly nice. Uh…do you have a history of disease in your family?”

He grins. “Excuse me?”

“I need to know what I’m getting myself into.” You motion at him. “Answer.”

“This isn’t an interview—”

“Answer.”

“No,” he says. “Not that I know of anyway.”

“Great. Do you plan to be a deadbeat father?”

His eyes roll. “I’m not dignifying that with a response.”

“So, yes? You do? Oh, great—”

“No, because that’s not a fair fucking question—”

“It is a fair question. If I have to raise this baby alone, I want to know—”

“Of course you wouldn’t fucking be alone. Do you really think so little of me—”

“I don’t think about you at all. How am I supposed to know what you’ll do—”

“I wouldn’t leave you alone,” he nearly snaps. He takes a breath to calm himself before adding, “Even if it wasn’t my baby, I wouldn’t leave you alone.”

Your lashes flutter and you can feel your heart lodging in your throat. “Fine. Last question.”

He waits.

“Did you ever want kids…before? With…her?”

He doesn’t have to think for very long, but the mention of her makes him smile. “Nah. We talked about it, but we weren’t ready. We liked it being just us, you know? We had a bunch of shit we wanted to do. We were a long way from babies and a white picket fence.”

You try to blink back the tears swimming their way to your eye. You can still see that beautiful picture of her in his room. An entire future of love and life and adventures that he lost. Now…he’s stuck with you.

“Oh,” you murmur.

His brows furrow. “What?”

“Nothing.” You swipe your knuckle along your cheek. “So, you probably still aren’t ready.”

“I didn’t say that.”

You give him an incredulous look. “Harry, come on. You aren’t ready for a baby. I’m not ready for a baby. We…we don’t know each other, we don’t like each other…we can’t do this. You know that.”

“Do I?” He leans forward. “It’s a baby, not a bomb. I think we can handle it.”

“Well, I don’t. You don’t even like me. You can’t have a baby with me.”

“Why not? People do it all the time.”

“But not us.” You give him a firm stare. “Harry, we love our jobs. We want careers, not kids. So having a baby kind of gets in the way of that. There’s…there’s diaper changes, and teething, and potty training—”

“So?”

“So. We don’t work together well. In fact, it’s a rather well-known fact that we don’t get along. We can’t possibly raise a kid. We’d ruin it.” You study him for a beat, unnerved by the nonchalance in his tone. “Why do I get the feeling you actually want this to be real?”

Another shrug and you nearly lunge at him. “I don’t know,” he murmurs, resting his elbows on his knees while he glances at the floor. “I’m older now. Maybe it’s time to…think about settling down.”

Your face scrunches. “Ew. That doesn’t sound like you at all.”

He laughs. “Look, I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it, but…maybe it could be a good thing.”

You stand from your chair and pace the length of your small living room. “This is crazy. This is crazy. I can’t have a baby, I’m…I’m not ready. I’m too young, I…I don’t even know what I’d do with one. Or if I even have a maternal instinct.”

“Probably not,” Harry offers, smirking when you glare. “You won’t really know until you have one.”

“Oh, great.”

“Listen, if you feel like you aren’t ready…we can find another alternative,” he says, softening his voice. “Okay? There are plenty of other options and we’ll find one you feel comfortable with.”

A tad wary of his sympathetic answer, you eye him closely. “Yeah? And what if we disagree?”

“We won’t,” he says calmly. “Your body, your decision.”

“Right,” you snort. “I’m sure.”

“I mean it. I wouldn’t be the one having to carry it.” He nods as though to reassure you. “Honestly, Tink. This would be your decision, one hundred percent. It’s not mine to make. Just to support.”

The tears rush a little faster as you sniffle and step closer. “You say that now, but what if I decide something you don’t like?”

“I will like it. I promise,” he murmurs, standing up in order to move toward you. “If you want to keep it, great. If you don’t, great.”

“I…I…” You suck in a deep breath, unable to slow the wild racing in your chest. “Fuck, I can’t…I don’t know—”

“Hey, okay, easy. Easy, Princess,” he says, quickly reaching out to take you in his arms and ease you against his chest. “Relax. Okay? Just breathe. Breathe for me.”

“I…I don’t think I can—”

“Yes, you can. You are.” His lips press to the top of your head while his hand runs up and down your back soothingly. “I’m right here. Do you hear me? I’m right here. You’re not alone. You won’t be alone. I promise.”

You squeeze your arms together and hold on with everything you have. Right now, he feels like your only anchor in the world. The only person strong enough to carry you both through to the other side. And for the first time since you met him…you feel glad that he’s here.

The two of you stand in the middle of the room for a long while before he finally murmurs, “I think it’s been five minutes.”

Your eyes close and you grip his shirt in your first. “I’m…I’m not ready to look.”

“Okay.” You can hear the smile in his response. “Okay, we can wait.”

So, you do as the truth starts to build in your chest. Inescapable, no matter how hard you try to swallow it down.

Finally, you can’t help but whisper, “You know what scares me the most?”

“Hm?”

“…that maybe I’m hoping it’s real.”

The apartment falls silent again. He doesn’t push you to elaborate, but you can feel his heart beating just a little faster inside his chest.

“I don’t know why,” you continue. “I don’t…I really don’t think I’m ready, but…but what if I should be? What if…what if we met and we started this because…because we were supposed to do this?”

He considers this. “Like fate.”

“Yeah.” You roll your lips into your mouth. “Because I still hate you. I do. I just…I’m starting to get this picture in my head of us. Being a family. Having a big house in a good school district. Tucking them into bed at night and reading them stories. Which is…dumb.”

“No,” he mumbles. “No, it’s not dumb. I’ve been thinking about it, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Because I meant what I said, I’d love to get you pregnant. You’d look really fucking hot.”

You chuckle. “Yes, so you’ve mentioned.”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Uh…okay?”

He smirks. “I never had a breeding kink until I met you.”

You lean back and swat your hand across his chest. “You’re so annoying.”

“What? I’m being serious.” He grins and those dimples pop free. God, you hope your kids have his dimples—

No. Nope. You aren’t going there.

You shake your head, ridding yourself of the thought. “Whatever. You’re just horny.”

“Maybe. But it’s still true.” His gentle gaze sweeps across your face. “If you wanna do this…we’ll do it. You and me. We’ll have this baby, and we’ll raise it to be really smart, and funny, and to not take shit from anybody.”

You laugh, brushing away a few more tears. “Maybe we can teach it to write code.”

“Oh, fucking obviously.”

The two of you smile before the excitement seems to fizzle and Harry’s brows pull together.

“You know I don’t actually hate you, right?” he says.

You blink. “What?”

“I know that’s our thing, and I know you said it earlier, but…I don’t actually hate you. This baby wouldn’t grow up with two parents that don’t like each other.”

“Oh…I…I know.”

“Good. Because I don’t want that to be one of the reasons you think we can’t do it. I’d fucking love that baby. And I’d love you for carrying it.”

Instantly, you both seem to still. The four-letter word sounds so loud inside such a small room.

I’d love you.

He clears his throat, shifting a bit as he glances toward the kitchen. “I mean, I’d…I’d appreciate you for carrying it—”

“No, yeah, I know,” you stammer. “I know what you mean.”

“Good. Yeah.”

The two of you fall quiet again before you softly admit, “I think I’m ready to look.”

“Okay.” He squeezes your hip. “I’m right here.”

You take in a deep breath before begrudgingly pulling yourself out of his arms. You already miss his warmth and the way he felt like home and your stomach turns as you slip into the bathroom.

With trembling hands, you reach for the stick that sits on the edge of your sink. And in those three seconds, an entire lifetime flashes before your eyes. 

The good, the bad, and the everything in-between. You see a house and a dog and a big backyard. You see two little kids rolling in the grass and jumping into the pool. You hear them begging for a bedtime story and crying when they scrape their knee.

You see a dozen birthdays and holidays and visits to the zoo. You see their heartbreaks and triumphs, their successes and letdowns. You see a million goodnight kisses and cuddles on the couch. 

And then…you see Harry.

In every picture, every moment. Taking them to their first baseball game and picking them up from their first dance. Sneaking them into R-rated movies even after you explicitly said no and feeding them far too much candy and popcorn.

You see him teach your son how to tie a tie and dance with your daughter as she stands on his feet. You see him cooking breakfast in the kitchen, flour all over his face. You see him curled up in bed, his head on your chest, your fingers in his hair. You hear him tell you how happy he is. How glad that he found you.

It’s a beautiful life. Even if it’s not the one you imagined for yourself. And in that moment, you decide that it doesn’t matter what the test says. If that’s your future, so be it. 

As long as you get to live it with him.

“So?” Harry calls from the hall.

You swallow thickly and slowly glance down.

Negative.

Negative.

No baby. No pregnancy. No white-picket fence.

You stare at the test for at least a full minute. You aren’t sure how you feel. Relieved. Disappointed. Upset. Thankful. Confused.

“Tink?”

You turn around. “Uh…it’s negative,” you report, handing it to him. “False alarm. I guess I’m just late.”

He glances over the stick with a rather blank expression before looking at you. “Are you okay?”

You nod. “Yeah. This is definitely the better outcome. I’m just…”

“What?”

“I don’t know. I guess I was just starting to get used to the idea.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, handing it back. “I know.”

You throw the test away. “Sorry for making you come all the way over here for that.”

“Hey, whoa—” He strides into the bathroom. “What the fuck are you talking about? Of course I’d be here.”

“I just…I wasted your time. I should have taken it before I called you—”

“Tink,” he sighs, taking your cheeks in his hands. “Stop. You can always call me for shit like this.” He looks at you, then amends, “You can always me. For anything. You know that.”

A tear slips from your eye without warning, and you suck in a sharp breath. “I don’t know why I’m so disappointed. This is what I wanted—”

“I know,” he says gently. “I know. It’s hard.”

“Yeah.” You hiccup. “But this is good, right? This is better?”

For a moment, he says nothing. He simply stares at you with a rather sympathetic expression. Or maybe it’s forlorn. Maybe he’s disappointed. Upset that you aren’t giving him what he wants.

Then, he dips down to kiss the tip of your nose. “This is good,” he whispers, and you know he means it. “We would have figured it out. And you would have been a wonderful mom. But I know you. And I know you aren’t ready. Not yet.”

You close your eyes and melt into the feel of his palms against your skin. Into the way he reassures you and protects you all in the same breath. You never thought you’d feel so safe in the serenity of his touch, but here you are. Wishing for him to hold you forever.

“And when we are ready, we’ll do it on our terms,” he says. “Okay?”

Slowly, you nod. “This is good,” you repeat to yourself. “It is. Really. Things are going great at work, I’m finally secure financially, and even you and I are…kind of getting along.”

He smirks.

“This is good. This is better.” You repeat the mantra until you really believe it. “Besides, I probably wouldn’t have been a very good pregnant woman anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I feel like I’d be really cranky. Or needy. My ankles would get all swollen and I’d be hot all the time and nauseous and miserable. I’d probably try to kill you.”

“Oh, you’d definitely try to kill me. You try to kill me even when you aren’t pregnant.”

You gasp. “Rude.”

“What?” He chuckles again before his eyes slowly start to rake down your frame. “But I don’t know. I think it’ll be better than you think.”

You swat him again. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop trying to picture it.”

“Why? I told you, you’d look fucking hot.”

“Yeah…no.”

However, he only nods, moving in to subtly brush his lips against yours. “You would. Be so fucking beautiful carrying our baby. With your tits all swollen and your belly getting bigger every day.”

Truthfully, the image almost makes you grimace, but there’s something about the way he says it. The way he talks about you so reverently. A soft, sultry murmur that goes straight to your cunt. Because you know he’s not just saying it to say it. He means it. Believes it. Would do anything for it.

He tilts your head back, thumb brushing along your jaw. “And I think you like it,” he exhales. “I think you like the idea of holding me inside you. Having a part of me. Knowing that I did it to you. No one else.”

You suck in a soft breath, knees going just a bit weak. “Harry…”

“What, baby?” His mouth ghosts along your neck. “Are you thinking about it? Thinking about how pretty your tummy would look with me inside it?”

He’s evil. Absolutely evil, and you clear your throat in a desperate attempt to regain control of yourself. “Do you…have a pregnancy kink I don’t know about?” 

His lips quirk up. “Apparently.”

“Mm.” Your lashes flutter and the urge to kiss him grows stronger. “You know…some women get really horny when they’re pregnant.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Yeah. I don’t think you could handle it.”

He scoffs. “Oh, no?”

You shake your head. “I mean, do you really think you could keep up? Going for hours and hours on end? Trying to keep me satiated with your poor, limp little dick?”

He makes another noise, and you tsk.

“I mean, you can barely satisfy me now as it is. But if I was pregnant? Pfft. Forget it.”

Instantly, he’s snatching hold of your hips and yanking you against his chest. “Don’t fucking tempt me, Princess,” he nearly growls. “I’ll bend you over right now.”

“No, I don’t think you will,” you retort. “You’ve gone soft on me. Rubbing my back, kissing my hair. You wanna take care of me and honestly? It’s a little pathetic.”

His head cocks rather deviously and your pulse begins to skip. He could split you in half if he wanted to and you both know it. 

But that’s what you need right now. You don’t want to be coddled or looked after. You wanna be fucked. Tortured and teased until you’re begging for release.

You want an escape.

And in that moment, Harry decides to give you one.

He picks you up and carries you out of the bathroom while your legs quickly work to hook to his hips for stability and your arms snake around his neck.

He ignores your squeals and teasing huffs of annoyance, instead dropping you onto your mattress with a soft thud.

You glare and push up onto your elbows. “You know, you don’t have to manhandle me—”

“Shut up.”

He surges forward, lips gliding against yours as he takes a taste of you on his tongue. And kissing is easy with him. As easy breathing, like you’ve done it all your life. You know exactly what he likes, what he wants. And you give it him.

His glasses are cold against your face, keeping him from getting as close as he’d like, and after a moment, he huffs, and rips them off before tossing them aside. And even though you adore when he wears them, you happen to adore being near him even more.

Your hands are in his hair, tugging on his curls, scratching down his neck. He has the added advantage of being on top, but that doesn’t seem to stop him from turning to putty in your hands. Clay for you to mold to your liking. 

No matter how dominant he tries to be, he’s simply a man that needs to be told what to do. Taken care of. Shown. 

And you happen to like showing him.

You feel him tug on the hem of your shirt. “Off,” he breathes between carnal nips to your throat. “I want this off, Tink.”

Happy to oblige, you push him back so you can lift yourself up before you peel the fabric from your chest. You take your time with the bra, allowing the straps to fall down your arms oh so slowly. You don’t rush to reveal yourself to him, instead letting him anticipate you. Until his heart is racing and his eyes are darkening and he’s resisting the urge to do it himself.

But once he can finally see you, he nearly groans. “Oh, good fucking girl.” 

He resumes his work. More kisses are left to the warm, tender skin, and he happily sucks bruises into each swell and curve of your breast before teasing the nipple with his tongue. His hands are greedy—ravenous. Pulling at your flesh, clawing his way along your frame. 

When he reaches your thighs, you whimper. You’ve missed the way he touches you. The way he pries your legs apart and makes a home between.

In a rush, he snaps your panties off into his fist and you toss him a punishing glare.

He smiles.

You rid each other of your remaining clothes in a frantic fashion until they’re nothing more than a dirty pile on the floor. Messy and familiar. Fated.

He drops down onto the bed back first, effortlessly swapping positions as you’re placed in a straddle over his waist.

“Good girl, let me see you,” he murmurs, running his fingers down your cheek before grabbing your jaw. “Go ahead.”

You reach down and take his hardening cock in your hand, running it along your cunt before teasing yourself with the tip. 

“Didn’t stretch you,” he mumbles, leaving a few stray kisses to your collarbone. “S’might hurt, so—”

You push him in, simultaneously sinking down in an effort to feel a more prominent burn., and you both make a rather lewd noise as the grip on your chin tightens.

“Tink,” he hisses with a punishing look of his own. “Careful—”

You drop yourself further, muscles tensing around the thickness until your thighs begin to shake.

“Hey—” He forces your eyes on his. “Enough. Be gentle, m’not gonna hurt you—”

“I want you to,” you pant. “Please. I need it. I…fuck, Har, I need it. Please…please.”

He’s still frowning but his expression softens. “Baby…not like this. Maybe we should wait until you’re feeling better—"

“No,” you whimper. Desperate. Fraught. “Harry, please, don’t stop. Don’t make me stop—”

“Hey, easy, easy.” He pulls your forehead to his. “Breathe. It’s okay.”

You try to obey. Try to suck in a strangled gasp of air but it’s useless. He’s gonna take himself from you. He’s gonna leave, and you’ll be empty, and alone, and maybe he won’t ever touch you again—

He places his palm on your chest, right over your heart. “Breathe,” he says again. Soft. Quiet. “In then out. Good girl, just like that.”

You follow the sound of his voice. Mimic his inhales and exhales until the two of you fall into a synchronized rhythm. 

“Good,” he says again, rubbing his other hand along your back. “There you go. You’re all right, I’ve got you. Yeah?”

Weakly, you nod. “I’m…I’m sorry. I just…I—”

“Shh.” He kisses your nose. “You’re okay, Tink. I know.”

A long moment passes before you finally feel in control of your own heart again and once you blink the fog from your eye, you see him. Delicate and strong at the same time.

He sweeps his thumb along your lip. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you admit. “Really, I just…I needed to feel you. And I wanted to…move on, I guess. Think about something else. Lose myself for a bit.”

He sighs but nods his understanding. “You could have told me that.”

“I know. I guess I’m just not used to sharing things with you.”

“I know,” he echoes with a small grin. “But we’ll learn, yeah?”

Your gaze grows suspicious. “And why would we do that?”

“Because,” he says simply. “If we’re gonna make a bunch of hot, smart babies one day, we’re gonna have to communicate.”

You snort. “Yeah, well, that won’t be for a while.”

“Fine. Just gives us more time to practice.”

Your eyes narrow. “You really have gone soft on me, haven’t you? All because you thought I was pregnant."

He laughs, fingers slipping around the back of your neck to pull you in for a kiss. “I’d argue I’m actually quite hard right now.”

“Ha. Funny.”

“I can hate you and like you at the same time, right?” he teases. “Because I think that’s my sweet spot. Wanting to kill you and fuck you all at once.”

“Agreed. You’re insufferable but you’re also one of my favorite people. Which only makes you more insufferable.”

“Yeah.” He smiles. “I think we earned a little civility, no?”

You nod and take his lip between your teeth. “And I think we should celebrate with an orgasm.”

He laughs again. “I suppose that’s only fair.”

You dance your kisses down his chest, enjoying the way his head drops back while he sighs at the feel of your tongue. He’s so beautiful and so good and if you’re going to lose yourself, you want to lose yourself in him.

Leaning back, brace your hands behind you on his knees, and start to bounce yourself on his cock. Over and over, faster and faster, until he’s grabbing onto your hips and giving them a firm, encouraging squeeze to help you along.

Your tits bounce right in his face, and he takes advantage of his front row seat, allowing his hands to trace and tease your nipples as you whine. He sucks them into his mouth and pulls them with his teeth. It sends chills along your spine and goosebumps along your arms and when he notices, he smirks.

 Not even a minute later, he’s pulling you down so your chest meets his. His hands land on your ass with a firm grip and he drags you along his cock. Slow and sensual until your eyes flutter shut, and you disappear into the building pleasure.

You feel his kisses on your ribcage as he begins to thrust up into you. Returning to the pace you previously set until you’re both chasing that familiar high. 

“There you go,” he praises through gritted teeth. “Fuck yeah, just like that—”

“Harry,” you mewl, fingers tangling in his hair. “Shit, please—”

“I know.” He leaves another kiss to the inside of your arm before he smacks your left ass cheek. “I got you, Princess. S’okay. Keep going.”

You grind yourself over his lap, knees hugging his waist as you bury yourself in the crook of his neck. Needy. Anxious. You match each other’s rhythm and it’s a dance. An effortless fluidity that brings you closer than ever before.

Then, he sucks two fingers into your mouth, and moves them between your cheeks. He grazes them over your tighter hole, gently teasing them over the other entrance before dropping them down to where his cock is fucking into your cunt. He plays with you a bit, pushing you just a bit closer while you wail—depraved—and beg for more.

“My good girl,” he praises. He spanks you again. “Fuck—that’s it, baby.”

Your staccato whimpers are consistent now. One for every thrust and you can almost taste his desperation as he turns his head in order to kiss your cheek. The sound of skin against skin is crude and delicious. The way your body slides against his. Like butter on a hot day, melting together.

He goes faster, pulls you harder. Fingers digging into your skin so hard it almost hurts. But in the best possible way. In turn, you brace yourself with a palm on his throat. Squeezing it tight as you start to get closer. 

“Yeah,” he groans. “Shit…harder—”

You obey, pinching the sides of his neck until his eyes roll back. 

You can feel his heart racing against yours. You’re both warm. Hot. Shaking. A tangled mess of limps and depraved grinding like animals in heat.

“M’almost…m’almost there,” you whisper.

He nods, looking down your body to watch the way your ass bounces in his hands. “Go. S’okay, go. Let me feel you.”

He leaves more kisses to your side and the tender way his lips feel against your skin makes your brain go fuzzy. 

You grip his throat a bit tighter and just like that…it’s over.

The two of you cum together, the room filling with moans and gasps and promises. He settles beneath you while you ride out the rest of your high but he makes sure to keep his arm around you through every second.

Once you finally catch your breath, he hums. “God-fucking-damn.”

You grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He turns to see you. “I think I’m pregnant.”

You roll your eyes with a swat to his chest but you’re laughing. “You’re so annoying.”

“And yet you still like me.”

“I never said that.”

“You said I’m your favorite person.”

“Yeah, well, I lied.”

“Right.” He helps you ease him out before he’s flipping you around and moving himself between your legs.   

You blink. “What the hell are you doing?”

He lifts two fingers and eases them along your swollen pussy. Collecting the white, sticky substance already leaking out before easily pushing it back in.

“Harry,” you scold. “I think we’ve had enough breeding for one day.”

He smirks. “Relax, Tink, m’not breeding you. I just…like to see it drip out.”

Your heart leaps. “…oh.”

“Yeah.” He rests his cheek against the inside of your thigh in order to watch. “S’always so fucking pretty.”

You reach down and card your fingers through his sweaty curls. Happy and content for the first time in days.

He looks up. “One day,” he promises, even though it sounds more like a question.

But somehow, in this moment, it makes everything else worth it.

You grin.

“One day.”

AAA I can’t believe we finally did it!! I’m not gonna lie them being soft with each other is gross 😭 BUT ALSO CUTE!! YAY PROGRESS!!

Thank you so much for reading and for always being so nice!! 🥹💞💞 and of course thank you for the amazing idea hehe

Also, if you see any mistakes……no you don’t 🫶

~  Full 404 Masterlist

Taglist:

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@cinnamonone @triski73 @lemoncrushh @vamprry @lady-lamb21

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@lovrave @nuggetdean @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @babegoals @lc-fics

[pathologicalreid]

nicknames | S.R.

in which you meet the team for the first time, and receive your first nickname

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category: fluff

content warnings: reader is referred to as a girl. i have this headcanon where when reid's IQ gets slashed to 60, he'd get so distracted that he'd run on autopilot, hence the willingness to handshake.

word count: 591

a/n: happy finals szn! this fic has been rotting in my brain for weeks and i finally decided to flesh it out. and maybe you should like and reblog this if you enjoy it (no pressure tho)

You were still filtering through your entry paperwork when the rest of the team filtered into the bullpen. David Rossi, who had helped you land this job in the first place, nodded in your direction before disappearing into his office. “Hey!” Someone called from across the bullpen, “Y/N, right?” Emily asked, setting her go bag in the chair at her desk before making her way over to your desk.

Smiling in response, “It’s nice to finally meet you,” you responded, reaching your hand out for her to shake. It was nice to be in the BAU, complete with a promotion from Special Agent to Supervisory Special Agent.

JJ walked over next, waving, and introducing herself as the communications liaison. “I’ve heard a lot of great things from your old CARD team,” she said, “I’m sure your skillset will come in handy here.”

You nodded in affirmation, “That’s the hope!” You answered, smiling at the prospect of your old team singing your praises.

Next, Derek approached, reaching out his hand for you to shake. Of course, you obliged and grinned at him. Part of you felt like you were meeting celebrities, the BAU was a big deal in the bureau. “Derek Morgan,” he introduced himself, “How long were you with CARD?”

“Five years,” you responded, it was a long time for anyone to deal solely with child abduction, but your team had the best rate in the bureau. Besides, you found the work rewarding.

Morgan’s eyebrows raised in surprise, “that’s impressive.”

You nodded, “Thank you. I’m really looking forward to working with you all.”

JJ looked behind her, “Oh, have you met Garcia?” She asked, peeking around the corner to where the technical analyst's office was.

Glancing down at the cat-shaped stress toy that she had given you when you arrived this morning, you smiled, “Yes, she was the first to greet me this morning. I think I’m just missing Dr. Reid.”

As if on cue, the young doctor walked into the bullpen, he had a worn leather satchel over his shoulder and looked like he might be talking to himself, “Reid!” Emily called over, getting his attention, and causing him to change course, approaching your desk. “Come meet, Y/N.”

He adjusted the strap of his satchel over his sweater before you reached out your hand for him to shake. “Oh, he doesn’t…” JJ began, but her voice trailed off when Dr. Reid shook your hand.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Dr. Reid,” you said, smiling at him. It felt good to know you had finally met the entire team.

He gave a close-lipped smile in return, “Reid is fine, or Spencer.” He said as you each dropped your hands to your sides.

Noticing everyone looking back and forth between the two of you as if you had already managed to do something wrong, you gathered all of your paperwork in your hands, “I should get this to Hotch.”

The rest of the team got the message and started to disperse to their respective desks, Reid’s being adjacent to yours. “Welcome to the team, pretty girl,” Morgan said to you before turning to his own paperwork.

You hugged your paperwork to your chest as if you were protecting it. Quietly, you muttered, “I really hope that nickname doesn’t stick.”

Across from you, there was a short laugh, almost a scoff. “It will,” Spencer responded in the same reverent tone. For a second, you thought it might be a joke, but you could tell by his facial expression that he was serious.

[reobsessed]

Unfamiliar Waters

Pairing: Tav X Astarion, Reader X Astarion. Gender neutral. Content: Bathing, kissing, hair washing, fluff, comfort, slight conflict that gets resolved immediately, no sex, minor mention of torture. 1500 Words. Summary: You were in dire need of a bath after a harrowing fight outside the inn you were staying at. Unfortunately you find the tub already occupied by Astarion. In an attempt to bond with and get him out of there, you offer to wash his hair. Another short Astarion fic I started a while ago. Wanted to do something fluffy and intimate without any sex. Thanks again to Suri for edits and help with lines and the title!

You flung open the wooden doors, uncaring as wood chipped against lavender painted walls. Just as you were halfway through discarding your shirt, an indignant cry caught you off guard.

“What in the sweet hells, do you mind?!” The towel and toiletries fell from your hands. You’d never been very perceptive and today was no exception. Already fully submerged in the tub was Astarion; chest bare slumped over the side, a dripping copy of the Baldur’s Mouth Gazette in hand.

“Astarion?! I haven’t seen you in hours, is this where you’ve been?” You spluttered. “We really could have used your help. There was a fight right outside the inn. There’s absolutely no way you didn’t hear the commotion.”

“Some of us take pride in our appearances and besides, I needed time away from that festering group of ingrates.” As if to emphasise his point he shuddered. “You know, you could all learn a lot from me, starting with regular bathing.”

“And how exactly are any of us meant to bathe when you’re in the bathroom four hours every day?”

“Oh I don’t know, Baldur’s Gate has plenty of scenic rivers and lakes. I’m sure the bear has no problem leading each of you to nature’s finest bathhouse.”

You rubbed your temples with a freehand. As much as you loved this man, he could really start to grate on your nerves after a while. You scooped up your belongings and made your way over to him, arranging your towel neatly on the floor beside you.

He looked up from the paper disinterestedly. “As much as I love your company, dear, I hope you’re not planning on joining me. I hardly think this,” he gestured disapprovingly at the tub, “can fit us both.”

“Astarion, if there’s anything I can do to cut this exceedingly long bath short, I would be more than happy to assist.”

His eyes widened momentarily. How stupid of you, you hadn’t considered the implications of what you’d said. 

“No, no, that's quite alright. I’ve still got my hair to wash and that’ll take at least another half an hour.”

Perching yourself on the edge of the tub beside him, you began rolling up your sleeves.

“Then allow me.” You smirked.

He flung the sodden paper to the floor and stared at you dumbfounded. “You mean you- wash my hair. I’m sitting here naked, dripping and gorgeous and all you want to do is ‘wash my hair’?”

“Couples do things for each other. Things outside of sex and combat, I might add,” you sniped back. Using your fingers, you began combing through his dampened locks.

“Without the sex, I suppose that leaves only the one thing we do together then.”

“That’s true.” His body tensed. “No, no wait- '' Flustered, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pressed your forehead against the back of his head. A feeble gesture, intended to soothe him and buy you enough time to explain.

“Just kidding,” you could hear the smirk in his voice, but you knew it wasn’t genuine.

“I like doing other things with you,” you mumbled into his curls. “I don’t care about the sex.” You relaxed your hold, allowing him to turn around to face you. Delicately, you reached out and wiped a stray piece of hair from his forehead. As you did so, his unnaturally pale cheeks took on a darker hue, perhaps from the heat or from your touch, you weren’t sure.

He cleared his throat and turned away again. “I see then. Well, this is as good a time as any to try something new.” 

“Really?!” your head perked up. “I’m so excited, haven’t washed anyone else's hair since I left home.” You began swirling a hand in the tepid water, carefully choosing a spot faraway from where Astarion sat. “Did you and your siblings ever do this for each other? Like my family did,” you asked without thinking.

He shot you an incredulous glare, which soon contorted into sarcastic glee. “Oh, of course we did! And then in between our torture sessions we’d paint each others’ nails! What good fun it was.” His smile dropped and he fell backwards into the bath, splashing you in the process.

You scratched the back of your head. “Sorry I-”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Leave it, my love. No use dwelling on all that now.” You nodded your head in agreement, not that he could see you. “Come now, we don’t have all day.” 

You hummed in agreement, looking over the various bottles that sat on a shelf beside the bath. Astarion was a very particular man and you didn’t wish to upset him by, god’s forbid, using the wrong fragrance. You gestured towards the selection of shampoo. “What’s your poison?”

“Hmm, I think today I‘m in the mood for jasmine- no wait- night orchid and ginseng- actually, that honey shampoo sounds positively delicious.”

“Might net you some unwanted attention from our camp bear,” you joked, hands sifting through the knots in his hair.

“Fair point. Alright then, I think I’d like to try that raspberry one, the one you got from that dear little market stall.” 

The same one you liked to use.

With a gentle firmness you cupped the sides of his head. You hoped it was enough to stop him from turning around and seeing the pure glee etched onto your face.

“Alright, I need to get it wet, lean back,” you instructed, as you scooped up a handful of water.

He did as he was told and reclined backwards, eyes closed and squinted, anticipating the stream of water. Doing this for your brothers and sisters had been easy. Hells, you could get away with lobbing them in the river and they’d be just fine. Astarion, on the other hand, required a more delicate touch (even if he’d never admit to it) and you were more than happy to cater towards him.

With slow precision you poured the cooling water over his scalp, immediately pushing back any stray drops that threatened to drip down into his eyes. 

Gods, how was it possible for such a man to be so beautiful and how was it that such a man had chosen you as his partner? Your hands stopped and your gaze lingered, as you took in his picturesque features.

An eyelash heavy with steam peeled open, giving you an inquisitive look.

“Enjoying the show, darling?” A thick, humid heat bloomed across your cheeks. “By all means, keep admiring me.”

“Shut up and close your eyes!” You grabbed the bottle from the side and began lathering it in your hands. The familiar fragrance filled your nostrils and despite having grown accustomed to having it as your own scent, you were looking forward to how it smelt on him.

You rubbed the foam through your fingers, fully enveloping his hair in a thick mousse. As your nails dragged across his scalp you heard him moan. 

“That feels positively wonderful.”

“Oh yeah, like this?” you asked, repeating the same motions as before. He mmm-ed softly, sinking further into your hold. You paused for a second, this might be the most satisfied sound you’d ever heard coming from his lips, not a bad thing of course, given his past experiences. 

His eyes were open again, staring up at you, face awash with bliss. 

“Itching for a taste are we?” he goaded lightly.

There was no use dignifying that with a response. You brought your lips down upon his, his head still clasped in your hands. It was brief and sweet, reminiscent of those first kisses you’d once shared with young lovers. Unthinkable that such innocent yearning could be reclaimed so late in life. 

Reluctantly you broke the kiss and pulled away.

“I do rather like that, you know…”

“I know and so do I.” You beamed. “Okay now can you please hurry up so I can have a bath,” you pleaded, peppering his mouth with more kisses.

“Always so demanding,” came his curt reply (the audacity). Nonetheless, he complied and finished up. 

A deep sigh of relief escaped your lips after finally lowering yourself into freshly ran water. About halfway through wetting your hair, a freezing pair of hands on your shoulders caught you off guard.

“Astarion!” you shrieked. The little rogue had snuck up behind you.

“Oh, do be quiet, and don’t splash me. Wouldn’t do to get me wet again.” You watched as he rifled through the shampoo bottles disapprovingly. “We must go to the market together again soon, darling, just the two of us. I know just the product that’s perfect for your hair type, might do something about that helmet musk too.”

You opted to ignore that last dig, instead choosing to relish in the satisfaction of a warm bath and your lover threading his fingers through your hair. “I’d like that,” you hummed happily. 

A contented silence descended over the room. You felt at peace and when you saw him hovering above you with that serene grin on his face, you knew he felt the same.

[cas-writes-stuff-ig]

Regina's Pet

CONTENT:

Word Count: 10,210 words

f!/nb!reader x regina george (dom!regina sub!reader)

-reader and regina smoke weed and cigarettes, but reader has never used a bong before

-drinking

-the reader has a shoulder tattoo and Regina finds

-cady and janis are friends with the plastics

-smut (she collars you later) (mommy kink) (degrading and praise) (semi-public stuff) (a bit of BDSM) (she eats you out and fingers you, and she rides your face) (edging and overstim)

-gross guy hitting on Regina, reader helps her

-fluffy shower aftercare

-she dates you in the end

-regina is kinda more nice here, but she still calls you a dumbass

(btw the smut is at the beginning and the end if you want to skip to it, but there's a lot of teasing build-up between there.)

Hi, i’m really new to writing so sorry if its shitty. I hope you like it. I might make a Part 2

(small unrelated note: I accidentally posted this while I was still writing it out yesterday, mb to those 15 people who saw this and didn't read the finished version, I'm kinda new to writing on Tumblr [i also haven’t written anything since i was 13 so bear with me])

——————————————————————————————

In university you were more or less a wallflower, leaned against a wall near the kitchen counter watching people come and go with drinks, watching the dance floor. Your friends had disappeared somewhere in the house leaving you unintentionally. It was Friday, and the night was young.

You looked into your red solo cup and downed it all, then walked to the kitchen counter to pour yourself another cup of liquid courage with coke.

Just as you were about to resume to leaning against a wall a hand tapped your shoulder from behind and you saw her, Regina George. You assumed she just came from the crowd of people dancing since you hadn’t seen her before that.

She’s been in some of your lectures and had taken a liking to you, her normal spot was always near you or next to you, so you could share notes, but she always had friends around her. With others, she was snarky but with you she was snarky in a more friendly-flirty way. You couldn’t tell if she was actually flirting or not. But she often invited you out to study outside of class.

She was taller than you and you looked up a bit at her, then she stepped forward and you stepped back against the wall “Hey little wallflower,” she grinned as she saw your face of surprise, “Didn’t expect you to be here” and looked you up and down. This was one of the only times you saw her in a non-educational setting.

While of course she looked stunning, you looked down at your own outfit and scratched the back of your head, you wore just a T-shirt partially tucked in jeans. “Yeah kind of, I don’t know where my friends went. I got a little lost.” You admitted.

“You smoke?” she asked.

“Weed or Nicotine?”

“Either, I’ve got both if you want” her voice enticed you like a siren call.

Tired of standing around watching like a loner you nod “Preferably weed right now, just warning you, I’m a bit of a lightweight, but sure” you said

“Hmm, okay loser, c’mon” Regina smirked took your free hand, and led you through the crowd toward the side yard, where two girls were sitting around a table passing a bong, finishing up a bowl. You recognize them as part of Regina’s pack of friends, but you never formally talked to them.

Regina let go of your hand, “Hey guys you know Y/N, Y/N you know Gretchen and Karen right? Right.” she sat down on an empty chair and beckoned you to sit in the empty one next to her.

Gretchen stood “Actually we were just about to go get more drinks and find Cady and Janis, we’ll be back Gina” Karen also stood and handed Regina the bong and the lighter.

When they were out of earshot you whispered nervously to Regina, “Um, Regina? I’ve smoked weed but I’ve never used a bong before” you were bright red wondering if she’d judge you or something.

She had stared packing a small bowl and laughed at you a little “Sweet little thing” her voice was flirty but you couldn’t tell if it was just the alcohol in both your systems. She turned back to you “Move closer to me, I’ll help you” she ordered. You pushed your chair toward Regina and sat in front of her, knees almost touching. “Hands out flat hold the bottom, sweetheart” then she placed it on your hands. “Now, breathe in” you did as you were told and the water bubbled. Then, she lit the bowl and looked straight into your eyes, and then finally took the bowl out and nodded signaling for you to stop breathing in.

You breathed out the smoke which felt smoother than any smoke you’d ever had in your lungs “Good job Y/N, baby” her voice was a little condescending, but you warmed inside still at the praise. She took it out of your hands and used it herself. You alternated turns using it, with her still helping you and only giving you small short hits.

Feeling more at ease, you relaxed more in your chair and melted in it a bit. Regina looked at you cunningly, obviously enjoying that you were starting to let loose. “Regina, why are you hanging out with me I’m not exactly the most riveting thing at this party” you circled your hand insinuating that she was the riveting thing here.

“You intrigue me sweetheart” she said nonchalantly “Do i need another reason?”

“No I guess not..”

She added sarcastically “Oh, I remember I only keep you around for lecture notes and help with homework.” you laughed and she spoke again “you don’t look half bad either.” Was that Regina saying she thought you looked good? You ignored that thought and took a sip from your solo cup.

“Hey Regina” you slurred your words a bit while she took another hit herself “Can I have another hit, please?” and grinned at her.

You leaned forward so you could hold your hand out again, instead she grabbed your shirt collar eliciting a gasp from you, lips as close to hers without kissing, she started blowing smoke into your mouth and you obliged breathing it in. Then pulled you in for a quick kiss, leaving you speechless. “Cat got your tongue loser?” still holding your shirt, keeping you from moving backward.

Pausing for a moment trying to process what happened and to find the words, you spoke softly your inhibitions lost “No, you do” and she pulled you in again for a deeper kiss tasting her lipstick. She let go of your shirt and her thumb cleaned your lips of her lipstick.

Your head spun from the alcohol, weed, and adrenaline, your body was warm and fuzzy. “Fuck, you’re amazing” you said under your breath without thinking. Your heart hammered.

“Of course I am Y/N” she stood up and held her hand out to you, a silent order for you to get up and take her hand.

“You’re like a goddess” she stared down at you, like you were her obedient servant. Then you took her hand.

“I know loser”

——————————————————————————————

She called an Uber for both of you and brought you back to her dorm. She told you that her roommate wouldn’t come back tonight, since they head home on the weekends.

She led you inside and you asked “You sure your roommate isn’t gonna come back?” you closed the door behind you.

“Ugh no, shut up don’t ruin the mood just kiss me” she shoved you against the door and tilted your head up to look at her “You gonna be good for me?”. You just nodded and kissed her, she pushed her knee between your thighs and you whined into her. You opened your mouth more to let her tongue inside.

With your core aching for more touch, you started grinding on her thigh and she pushed her knee up higher into you. Regina broke the kiss with a bite to your lip eliciting another moan from you. “Shit- Regina” you buried your face in the crook of her neck and moaned out, she took your face to look back at her.

“Do you want more?” she asked, but you only nodded. “Ah ah” Regina scolded you “use your words.”

“Shit, please Regina? Please, fuck me. Be mean to me” You begged her not thinking about your words.

She smirked at you feigning disgust “Oh? Shy, innocent, little wallflower is so dirty” She removed her leg from between your knees and started undoing your belt and pants. Then she walked away from you towards the bed and started removing her shirt, while you did the same. She then sat on the bed with only her panties on and spread her legs. “You want me to fuck you? Get on your knees and earn it”

You both were still very crossfaded and you eagerly went on your knees kissing her from her knee to her inner thigh biting as you went. You looked up and saw her flushed face and kissed above her clit through her panties. “Take them off. Make mommy feel good.”

“Yes mommy” You loved her telling you what to do. You slid her panties off and she spread her legs for you. Regina’s pussy was wet, and hot. She looked down at you expectantly. “You’re beautiful” you said before pressing your tongue to her clit. Regina moaned out and you squeezed your thighs together, trying to relieve your own ache.

You tongued at her clit and pulled away to use a hand to rub circles around her bud “Can I use my fingers inside you?” and she let out a yes between moans and you watched her face as you slid two fingers easily inside her wet cunt and curled them pressing her g-spot her head threw back. You then returned your tongue to her clit pressing and licking harder.

“Shit baby, I’m close, don’t stop” she grabbed the back of your head and pulled you closer suffocating you between her legs a little bit. You rubbed your thighs together trying to relieve yourself and moaned into her pussy while you curled your fingers inside of her.

A loud “Fuck” between pants and moans was the last thing she said before she arched her back, one hand pressing you hard into her pussy the other supporting her while she came on your fingers, you continued the assault on her clit while she rode out her orgasm. When she finished you licked her pussy and thighs clean.

"You have a tattoo, I never took you for a tattoo kind of person" You looked up at her as she traced your shoulder. Regina found it hot "You never told me" It was always well hidden behind a normal tshirt

You replied "You never asked" and gave her a smile "It's not finished yet though"

She pulled you up onto the bed with her and you straddled one of her thighs. “You did such a good job pet” She still breathed heavily, and she kissed you tasting herself on your tongue.

You grinded down on her thigh a bit while you worshiped her body, a little whine escaping your mouth. Though your core aches for attention you dare not ask in fear of upsetting the goddess. Instead you worshipped her body with a trail of kisses from her neck to her breast. Leaving hickeys and marks only on places that could be covered easily. When you leaned back to look at the marks you left, you just stared looking at her perfect figure.

You heard Regina let out a scoff “You done gawking at me sweetie?” you reddened realizing how long you stared for. Smirking at your embarrassment, she decided to give you mercy “You ready for your reward baby?” her voice sickly sweet and domineering.

“Please” you said under your breath, you couldn’t take waiting any longer, it ached between your legs.

Regina laughed a bit at you “So needy” She took a hand and signaled for you to lift your hips, her other hand placed on her thigh where you’d been grinding slightly. “Ride it, ride my fingers slut.”

You lowered down onto her hand and as soon as you took her fingers in she curled them hitting your g-spot, a loud moan escaped from your mouth and then you started to grind your hips. You covered your mouth with your hand and closed your eyes, your other hand on her shoulder supporting yourself. Riding her hand, the base of her palm rubbed against your clit “Shit- Regina..” you moaned out but muffled against your hand.

She stilled your hips and threatened “Move your hand, let me hear you or I’ll stop” you opened your eyes half-lidded and let your hand drop to Regina’s other shoulder supporting yourself with both hands now. “Good pet seems like you can follow orders hm”

She started guiding your hips against her hand to start you back up again. You didn’t break eye contact with her. You moaned out loudly when her hand from your hip found one of your nipples and pinched it hard. “Regina” you panted out desperately and she just bit her lip.

She curled her fingers repeatedly hitting your g-spot and let you grind, you synched your hips with her movements. Each press inside and each time your clit moved against her palm sent pleasure shooting through your body, and heat started to burn in your core “Fuck, Regina- please I’m close. I can’t” you were almost tipping over the edge

“Cum for me baby, go on” She instructed and your legs shook and you moaned out her name over and over, she continued to guide you through your orgasm still pressing against your inside until you stopped grinding against her hand.

When she started to pull her hand away, you lifted your hips to let her, Regina let her fingers slide through your slit and rubbed hard against your overstimulated clit. A loud whimper escaped, but you tried not to move away “Shit- Regina, I’m sensitive” You looked at her pleadingly, legs trembling

“I know baby” she smirked deviously as your legs shook “come one more time for me, can you do that?” she circled your clit faster.

“Yes, fuck- anything for you” you weren’t going to last long, especially when she talked to you like that.

Regina hummed “Such a pathetic toy for me aren’t you?” you whined out a yes and she pressed harder. She loved seeing you come undone.

“Regina, please, I’m close again” you managed to get out, then she started rubbing horizontal strokes right against your clit and you felt like you saw stars “Mommy- please I can’t, I can’t-”

“Go ahead pet” she purred in your ear and you came all over her hand again. This orgasm was more intense than the first, white-hot pleasure struck through you. She whispered praises and encouragement while you came, but she never slowed down wanting to prolong your orgasm as long as possible.

When you pulled your hips away you she brought her hand in front of both of you. “Look at how messy you are baby” then she made a show of licking your wetness off her hands.

You sat on her lap still straddling her and she sat up to kiss you, she wrapped her arms around your waist and your arms went around her shoulder and neck. She kissed your jawline and then your neck leaving a sizable hickey that would be hard to hide. She pulled back to look at you.

“That was incredible” you said breathily coming down from your orgasm high and the weed. “Thank you” you murmured quietly.

“You did say I was amazing” she pulled you close to her lips again, “of course I’m incredible in bed” sounding cocky as ever.

Regina let you climb off her and she helped you clean yourself up. You sat on the bed while she rummaged through her drawer and she threw a pink t shirt and a pair of sweats at you. She decided to keep the stray in her bed. “Stay tonight”

“Thank you” you said as you stood up and got changed into her pjs.

She rummaged more through her drawer and pulled out a small tape measurer “Sit up” she instructed and you did, then she wrapped it around your neck measuring it quickly.

You were confused, but before you could ask what it was for, she lifted the covers to get in bed and anxiety suddenly took over you. You were about to sleep in this gorgeous woman’s bed. But your mind raced. Was this just a fling? Were you really just kept around for homework and a good fuck? Your expression changed and you furrowed your eyebrows a tiny bit. “I’m gonna go get some water really quick” you grabbed her water bottle.

Before you could walk out, she said “Okay nerd, just come back” she sounded irritated, but the way her hand had tugged on your shirt showed you she wasn’t really upset.

“Of course” you grabbed your phone and walked out to the communal bathroom. You went to the sink and splashed water in your face. “Fuck” you said to yourself looking at the mirror, you then tilted your head to the side looking at the hickey she left on you. Your stomach fluttered, you’d just fucked one of the most beautiful people and she wants you to come back to bed.

You opened your phone to worried messages from your friends

Y/N: so sorry guys I’m at someone’s dorm right now

Max: shit we were worried about you, we tried finding you at the party but you weren’t there

Y/N: you guys have my location you know

Jade: whose dorm r you at? did you, yk?

You hesitated before texting back, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Your friends knew that Regina had taken a liking to you and gave you special treatment, they also knew what a huge crush you had on her

Y/N: i’m with regina...

Max: so you’re the one people saw with regina huh

Jade: hope you had fun

Y/N: mm details later, i’m going to bed goodnight

Jade: goodnight

Max: night

Next to the communal bathroom, was a small water fountain and you filled it.

You walked back to her room and she put her phone down quickly and lifted the covers for you to come in. “Hey Regina?” you said nervously as you got shifted to be comfortable in her bed.

“Yes” she replied while she took your arm around to hold her. You were cuddling her, and she scooted closer to you.

“I was just wondering, is this just a one time thing or..” you paused anxiously wondering if she was mad.

She turned over in your arms and looked at you “You’re a good fuck, you’re good with school, yes.” Regina said a bit sternly, almost offended at you asking. “but you don’t look half bad, and I actually happen to enjoy your company” she said under her breath. You wouldn’t know if she actually said that last part if you didn’t feel her breath on your lips.

“And if you want this again, which I know you do, then you’ll get it, understand?” she said cockily again, you didn’t reply but just passionately kissed her, and her hand came to cup your face. “I’ll take that as a yes” This was the nicest Regina ever was up till now, and it warmed you.

She turned back over for you to spoon her and you pulled her close this time and kissed her neck and shoulder. “Thank you, goodnight Regina” you murmured, sleepiness taking over your body.

“Goodnight loser” she replied with no malice in her voice. You nuzzled your face into her shoulder and Regina felt you smile into her shoulder. You were her loser, hers. And hopefully hers for more nights.

——————————————————————————————

In the morning you realized where you were, in Regina George’s bed and reddened at the realization. In the night you switched positions with her, and she really just held you like a teddy bear. You awkwardly slipped your phone out from under the pillow and checked the time, it was around 10AM.

You felt her stir and pull you close to her, and your heart beamed, the snappy Regina George likes to cuddle you. “Good morning” You felt her breathe against your neck.

“Good morning Regina, did you sleep okay?” you replied and turned over to look at her.

She let go to stretch her arms out a bit. “Good, you?”

“I haven’t slept that good in a while” You admitted, her smile full of pride.

“What? You worn out from last night baby” she teased and you just didn’t reply and turned your head into the pillow. You felt her get up out of the bed then you looked at what she was doing. She handed you your clothes from last night.

She threw you a glance and told you “Get dressed we’re going out.” She sat in her desk chair and started putting on make up.

“Wait what?” you asked surprised.

She turned around annoyed and looked at you “We’re going shopping loser, get dressed” she turned back to her mirror and teased “Don’t worry I wont look at you change, not like I didn’t see you naked last night right?” you flustered and got changed.

You sat on the bed waiting for bed to finish getting ready, kicking your feet a bit “Hey Regina, you got any coffee?” you said as she was slipping on her heels.

“Some in the fridge” you kneeled down to get some and opened a bottle of cold coffee.

“Thanks” you turned and saw her put on her black leather jacket, then she walked up to you, and used a finger to tilt your head up.

“You ready to go?” she smiled looking down at you, the heels she wore made her much taller than you. Your face was red and she reveled in the effect she had on you. You just nodded.

——————————————————————————————

You sat in the front passengers seat, and of course Regina had a sexy car too. You had chugged your coffee out of nervousness. Regina told you that Gretchen and Karen ended up at some frat guys house, and picked them up.

When they got in you really stuck out like a sore thumb. Three pretty girls and there was you. While they all talked amongst themselves about their night, you just stared at the road.

After arriving at some mall parking lot, Regina led the three of you through an expensive clothing store, you were in the back following them like a lost dog. Regina instructed them to find clothes for you, and you were stunned, you thought they were here for themselves, and you were there to tag along.

“Y/N, sit there got it?” She pointed at some chairs near a dressing room “We’ll be back.” You went to go sit and waited for them.

Gretchen and Karen came to you first and surprisingly they let you pick the clothes that you felt comfortable wearing. They put the clothes you didn’t choose on a rack and dispersed again to pick out clothes for themself. You yelled a “Thanks guys” before they were out of earshot.

Regina came back and walked toward you, “Hey try this on” she handed you a white wife beater and some ripped jeans and she looked through the clothes the girls had chosen for you, and removed some items from the pile. You saw a plastic bag so she had already bought herself some clothes while she was a walking around.

“Okay” You stepped into a dressing room and slipped the clothes on, you saw how expensive they were and grew anxious. You looked good but you still felt nervous and self-conscious, the shirt revealed your tattoo, which you never showed off. You poked your head out and saw Regina looking at you and raised an eyebrow, wanting to see the outfit.

You stepped out and she got up from her chair and approached you, circling you like prey. It made you nervous. Her hand touched your waist and she spoke, “Wear this with your belt” Regina walked in front of you and tucked the front of the shirt into the pants “You look cute” she put a finger on her lip and looked you up and down.

“Th-thanks” you replied nervously.

Regina then walked behind you and smacked your ass lightly. It made you yelp a little, and she let out a soft chuckle. Her fingers laced through the loops on the jeans on either side and pulled your hips into hers and whispered in your ear “Your ass looks nice in these jeans, wear this outfit tonight” Then she nipped at your ear, and you suddenly felt hot. She traced your shoulder again "Also show this off more often"

You stammered out “What’s tonight?” She let go of you and smiled.

“Another party of course” she sat down in the chair and crossed her legs “Get changed again, then let’s go pay”

When you stepped out, Regina took the clothes from you and handed you her bag of clothes to hold, and went to go to the register to pay for you. “You really don’t have to do that Regina it’s fine,” you said, feeling bad if she paid.

“If I’m going to be seen again with you tonight, especially on the dance floor, I want you to look good.” she glanced at you and inserted her card. It was nice that she paid even though it was for her own selfish purposes.

“You sure you don’t want me to pay you back” You felt bad because it was pricey.

“Don’t question me baby” She threw you a glare and walked past you handing you the bag of clothes making you hold both bags but you didn’t really mind that. And you nodded obediently.

Gretchen and Karen were also paying and when you all were reunited at the entrance, you offered to hold their bags as well, which they let you. You walked around more with them at the mall, Gretchen and Karen ended up walking off on their own to another part of the mall, then it was just you and Regina again.

You both were talking comfortably, even though your heart was racing, you wanted to tease her back a bit. You sat at a table, sitting across from each other, drinking some soda, then you leaned forward, elbows on the table resting your head in your hands smiling “So you really do enjoy my company don’t you”.

She rolled her eyes, “Whatever you think”

“Oh come on, you said it last night, I remember it” You tilted your head to the side and grinned wider.

She crossed her legs and her arms and was frustrated “I did, so what? We were drunk and high” She spat, and it almost hurt your feelings. She then put on a devious smile “And if you keep acting like a brat about it, you’ll regret it tonight, understand me, baby?”

Heat instantly went between your legs at what she was insinuating but you continued your facade of confidence “Regret it how?” you laughed and said “Should I fuck around and find out? or be good for you?”

She returned your sentiment “Up to you, either way you’ll end up begging” That made your facade crumble away and you felt your face grow red, and she just relished in your shyness, knowing she won.

Once you were reunited with them again, Regina drove Gretchen and Karen to their respective dorms, and you last. Before you got out the car she grabbed your shirt again and pulled you in for a quick kiss. “Meet back at mine at around 7, got it? I’ve got another errand to run”

“Yeah, I’ll see you there, thanks for taking me out today” You stepped out and waved.

“Mmhm whatever, thank me later” her tone was mean but she pulled her sunglasses down a little and gave you a look that made your heart flutter for a moment.

She drove away and you walked into your dorm where your two friends were. “Hey guys” you put your bag of clothes down and kicked your boots off.

“Well well well, look what the cat dragged in” Your friend Jade said to you.

“Yeah a bag of clothes Jade it isn’t a big deal” you replied tired of walking around “Turn around I’m changing”

Max and Jade turned around but still probed at the topic “But you were with the Regina George last night” Jade said.

“And you slept in her dorm” Max added, you changed into your comfortable pjs to lounge around in until 7 o’clock approached

“You can turn back around now” you said and they turned toward you arms crossed

“Details please” they both said and you sighed defeated.

“Promise me you won’t tell a soul” you put your pinkies out for them and the promised.

“Of course Y/N”

You sat on your bed and they sat across from you on Max’s bed, and you huffed out “Fine, she found me, we smoked a bong, and then we left, got an Uber to her dorm and we fucked” you sighed.

Max smiled “I would say sorry for losing you last night, but It seems like you had a great time without us” and pointed to your neck. You had completely forgot you had a hickey there and you were cherry red in the face. Jade and Max laughed at your obliviousness.

“But come on was it good?” Jade pressed.

You had grabbed a pillow and stuffed your mouth and nose into it “yes, she liked my tattoo” you said through the pillow.

“Does she like you? Was it a fling or does she want you again?”

“I don’t know, but she’s insinuated she wanted to fuck again” you mumbled.

Max and Jade high-fived each other “Y/N getting laid with the prettiest girl around” Max said teasing you.

Jade and Max were actually pretty sociable and had connections to parties, so when they got you as a roommate they took you on as their token introvert.

Jade laughed and added wiping away fake tears “They grow up so fast” You threw the pillow at them and their laughter only grew. Once they regained composure, Jade asked “There’s another party tonight, you coming with? Regina might be there” she waggled her eyebrows at you and you held up your middle finger.

“Actually, Regina invited me out to the party with her friends..” you grabbed the bag of clothes and took out the outfit Regina bought for you “that’s what this is for, she bought it for me”

They whooped and cheered, then Max spoke “She must really like you then Y/N” They paused and looked at your anxious face “Don’t sweat it, you’re gonna be hot shit tonight”

“I hope so” You ran your fingers through your hair.

7 o’clock approached faster than you expected, it was already 6:20 and you had gotten some notes done for a class. Then you started to change into the outfit Regina chose for you, you ripped off the tags and threw them in the recycling trashcan near the mirror, putting on your clothes. Max whistled when you turned to look at yourself in the mirror. “Regina has good taste”

“In clothes or people?” you asked, while putting your belt on

“Both Y/N” Max walked up to you and fixed your hair a little. You sat and bounced your knee anxiously “Breathe you already fucked her once you’ll be fine” you just felt silly, your outfit wasn’t too out of your comfort zone but you were scared again.

Max patted your shoulder. “You’re fine, you should wear that gold cross necklace you have, it’d look good with your outfit” you grabbed it and handed it to Max to clasp around your neck.

It was an indulgence purchase from months ago, you saw it and decided you needed it, it was actually expensive and real gold too. You were rather attracted to shiny things, and people like Regina.

Jade was absorbed in some video on her laptop and Max beckoned her “Jay look at them” She paused her video and looked at you.

“Wow go get ‘em tiger” Jade said jokingly, you rolled your eyes and cringed at her

“What are you my dad?” you grinned and then looked at your phone, “Ah shit I should head out now guys” You grabbed your small cross bag and slung it over your shoulder.

“We’ll see you at the party!” Max and Jade called out, you waved them goodbye. Then you walked to Regina’s dorm, it was about a 10-15 minute walk away and you texted her to let you into the building. You were only 3 minutes early.

Y/N: Hey Regina i’m outside, mind letting me in?

Regina G :0 : Be down in a sec

You didn’t wait long as she opened the door for you and led you back to her dorm. She didn’t look at you just yet, she was in a hurry to get back and finish getting ready. When she was finished getting ready, she stepped in front of the mirror and ensured her outfit looked good. She wore a pink shirt that complimented her breast well and black leggings and heeled boots. Then she turned around to you.

She hummed in approval and then you were red again. She traced the gold cross you wore. “Nice touch”. She grazed your arms which were nicely toned but not super muscular.

“Thank you” you stood awkwardly as she was staring at your outfit and your body. You avoided eye contact.

“Real gold?” she took the cross into her hands and looked at the fine details, you nodded. “Consider me impressed” you breathed out a sigh of relief only for her to pull you by your belt into a kiss. “You ready for this little wallflower?”

“Yeah” you said quietly.

She handed you her leather jacket “Hold this for me, don’t lose it” the she leaned over to apply her lipstick and walked back over to you pressing a few kiss marks to your cheek and neck. “Don’t wipe that off either” She pulled her phone out “Just waiting for Gretchen, Karen and Cady now”

——————————————————————————————

You left your bag at Regina’s since you assumed you’d come back for it anyway but took an unopened pack of Marlboros and a lighter and put it in Regina’s jacket. It was about 8 o’clock that you all left, Cady drove you all to the house party. Regina sat in the front leaving you with Gretchen and Karen in the back. You held Regina’s jacket in your lap.

Karen and Cady were the more amicable of the four in the car. Karen leaned and looked at your back "You've got tattoos Y/N" Suddenly Gretchen leaned over and looked at you.

"You do" She was also surprised "looks good on you"

You swore you saw Regina glance over at you raising an eyebrow, it screamed 'told you I was right nerd'.

Karen complimented your tattoos and asked many follow-up questions you weren't prepared for, but she leaned in and whispered "Regina likes them, she keeps staring at you through the mirror"

Before you could reply back thanks, Cady parked at the curb near the house where you could already hear music, the houses in this neighborhood were huge. Gretchen opened her door first hopping out, and let Karen out. Karen sent you a wink before shutting the door.

Regina led them to the door and opened it, all eyes were on her again. But since you walked in together it felt like they were on you. You all grabbed drinks before Karen and Gretchen dragged Cady to the dance floor. You grabbed some Jack and Coke and Regina just poured herself some Pink Whitney. “Hey Regina can I try some of yours?” you asked trying to loosen up before the alcohol kicked in.

“It’s vodka sweetie, aren’t you a lightweight?” you nodded She placed her cup down and picked up the bottle of Pink Whitney and a clean shot glass and poured you a shot, handing it to you “Bottoms up” You drank it and it burned on the way down but it was sweet and decadent much like Regina herself. She mouthed ‘Good pet’ and smirked then dragged you to the dance floor where you were already tipsy.

“Regina, can I wear your jacket for now so I don’t lose it?” you said loud enough for her to hear through the music and people, she nodded and continued to dance. Your bodies were close together and you were drunk. Alcohol was the best social lubricant.

You danced together and at some points she took your hand and let you spin her around. You had to extend your arms a little bit more than if you were her height and if she wasn’t wearing heels.

You turned your back for a little when you heard Jade and Max call after you and you greeted them, they said they saw you and Regina together and playfully punched your shoulder, and then heard Regina’s voice “Get off me weirdo!” you turned to see some frat guy with his arm wrapped around Regina’s waist.

“Dance with me” he slurred his words very drunkenly but he wouldn’t let go of Regina and she wiggled her way out of his grasp.

“I'm here with someone, get lost” Regina spat.

“Yeah where is he then huh?” The guy stepped up to her, this guy was easily almost a foot taller than you, but Regina didn’t care and she pulled your arm and you instinctively hooked your arm around the back of her waist.

You glared at him and Regina pulled your face towards hers kissing you in front of him and someone others watched, a shy little nobody that no one’s seen is kissing the Regina George. You were drunk and didn’t care, you were pissed this guy wouldn’t leave her alone. Your hand trailed down to her ass momentarily and you both broke the kiss.

He was about to say something else but Gretchen, Karen, and Cady showed up, “Leave her be, fucking jackss” he just scoffed as more people were watching and walked to another girl. You and Regina quickly let go of each other, you wiped off her lipstick from your lips.

Her friends were checking on her and she was just dusting her outfit off obviously irritated as well but she just kept saying she was fine. You were seething inside and chugged the rest of your cup but maintained composure “Regina you okay?”

She looked up at you and snapped “I’m fine Y/N” and she looked at her friends “I’m fine, gonna get more to drink” She stormed off and her friends just stood looking at each other but you weaved your way through the crowd following her.

“Regina” you put a hand on her shoulder, she poured more alcohol into her cup, and she ignored you “Regina let’s go outside for a second” You saw an open case of water and took one out. “Come on Regina please?”

She gave you a death stare but she found the backyard, opened the sliding door, and you followed her when you were alone she sneered at you “I’m fine seriously lay off it” You dare not take her alcohol but you handed her the bottle of water and she sat in a folding chair.

You took out the cigarettes and the lighter and then slipped the jacket off to place around Regina’s shoulders. You sat next to her and opened the pack of cigarettes, placed a piece of gum in your mouth so it wouldn’t taste bad, and lit the cigarette. She drank a third of the water you gave her.

“Smoke break?” you passed her the cigarette and smiled a little, she took it from you wordlessly. You just looked down at your phone and let her have her silence. You got a couple messages from Max and Jade including a picture of Regina and you from the 2nd floor window. You looked at Regina who was turned away from you and then you looked up behind where you saw your friends giving you thumbs up, you flipped them off quickly.

Regina passed the cigarette back to you and you took a long puff. Then she spoke “Men are such jack asses, ugh” she crossed her legs and complained, you listened. “Like get the fuck of of me” she rolled her eyes and then you flicked the ash off and passed the cigarette back to her.

She ranted on for a while before she turned back to you, and murmured a soft “Thanks though” she flicked the cigarette butt away but it landed toward your feet, you picked it up and stuffed it in your pocket to throw away later. Both of you were still thoroughly intoxicated so you felt like you could tease her a little bit.

You put a cigarette in your mouth used one hand to protect it from the wind and one hand lit it up, you took a long puff before smirking. “Regina George? Saying ‘thank you’? I can’t believe my ears” You passed her the cigarette again.

“Shut it nerd” She took a deep breath of the cigarette and blew it at your face. You were glad to see her back to her snarky teasing ways.

“Or what?” You challenged her with no intention of winning. “You gonna punish me, Regina?” You leaned back in your chair and spread your legs to get comfortable, but she stood up.

She walked in front of your chair and towered over you “It seems like that’s what you want” her knee pushed harshly between your thighs, one hand on the back of your chair and the other still holding the cigarette. She looked down at you and you smiled wider, knowing she was back in a better mood. “You better wipe that smug smile off your face L/N”

You tried leaning up to kiss her but she straightened herself out of your reach and shoved her knee harder into your cunt. You whined “Regina” You looked up at her and she held the cigarette to your mouth and watched you inhale, you turned your head to not blow the smoke at her. She looked at you expecting you to say or do something. You put your hands up in defeat “I’m sorry Gina please forgive me” You wanted a taste of her lips.

“Again” she said smiling down at you cruelly, and you swore she could feel the pulse between your legs.

“Regina please, I'm sorry I was joking, I’ll be good now” You put your hands down on your thighs and leaned forward again “Please kiss me”

Like yesterday, she breathed smoke into your mouth. Regina leaned down towards your lips and you inhaled what she gave you, and she pressed her lips to yours. She pulled away and said “You’re forgiven, I suppose”

“Thank you goddess” You smiled at her more timidly. She removed her knee from between your legs and finished off the last of the cigarette. Before she could flick it onto the ground somewhere, you put your hand out to take it from her.

“Oh a good Samaritan too aren’t you?” she taunted you and handed it to you to put in your pocket. She looked you up and down again her eyes lingering at your necklace, then she smirked “Well, God bless you baby” she said seductively, and started to walk away “Let's go back inside shall we?”

She walked ahead of you and you looked up at the window to see if your friends were still there, and they were. Jade mouthed to you ‘bottom’ and you rolled your eyes, then speed walked to catch up with Regina.

Regina got a message and then took your hand and led you upstairs, to a room with a pool table and in the corner, Gretchen, Karen, Cady, and Janis, with two guys you assumed were gonna go home with some of them tonight. They passed around a bong and Regina looked back at you and said quietly. “Hope I trained you well last night, or does my stray need help again?” She sat down next to Cady on the couch and you sat on Regina’s right.

Regina got her turn and then it was yours thankfully you did it right. You passed it around maybe three times and talked and didn’t get awkward or anything, when it was your turn again Regina leaned to whisper in your ear, “Let me know when you wanna go back to mine, I have a surprise” a hand lightly traced the back of your neck and you coughed out then she leaned away to talk to Cady.

You stayed a while, just chatting, and you were pretty sobered up, but you felt needier. You let Regina finish her conversation before tapping Regina’s arm and nodding your head. Then Regina stood up “Cady, me and nerd are heading home now, just gonna take an Uber” You and Regina said bye to everyone else and walked out. Walking out the door she interlaced her fingers with yours.

——————————————————————————————

Regina traced the inner part of your thigh in the car and you had to bite back a whine when she got too close to your core, and you returned the favor pulling her leg apart slightly as well. Your stomach filled with butterflies.

When you got to her dorm she took her jacket off and kissed you relentlessly, both of you kicking off your shoes. Regina undid your belt and slipped a hand underneath your underwear and felt how wet you were. “Been waiting all night for this pet?” she dragged her finger from your entrance to your clit and pressed lightly.

“Yes, I want you, please” you begged, she took her hand out and licked her finger clean.

“Strip for me and kneel in front of the bed, like yesterday” She commanded and you were happy to follow, you took your gold necklace off and placed it on the desk and rid the rest of your clothes. Her back was turned to you and you heard her opening something while you stripped and went on your knees.

“Hey Regina? Can I keep a shirt on?” she turned to you and you were in nothing but held her pink t-shirt you wore last night.

She was amused to see you wear her clothes “Yeah, sure” she went back to fumbling with something and you put the shirt on and stared at your knees.

When you glanced up at her, she wore only her shirt and lace panties now which made you blush and look at the ground, then you heard a clink of metal. Regina sat on the bed right in front of you, and you looked up and saw what she held. A pretty black collar with a tag on the front engraved with the words “Regina’s Pet” and a ring on the back and front of the collar for a leash or for her to tug on.

“Hey you sober right?” her voice was soft and caring, which surprised you.

“Yes, I am” you replied quietly you were eager.

“Do you want this around your neck?” Regina unclasped it and held it in front of you.

Your mouth went dry and you said “yes” weakly.

“Good” she leaned down and fastened the collar onto your neck. “You’re my pet now, yeah?” she hooked her finger through the loop on the front and pulled you close.

“Yes” is all you could manage to say as she beckoned you to straddle her lap. Your legs were spread as you sat on her and she inspected the collar on you.

“is it too tight?” she yanked on it a little and stuck two fingers between your neck and the collar.

“No- no, it’s good thank you” you were nervous again.

“You’re familiar with the color system, yes?” Regina asked.

You nodded “Green for good, yellow for slow down and red for stop”

“Good you’re gonna need it” She replied and kissed your lips

She let go of your collar and one hand was against your back and the other trailed up your thigh and pressed lightly on your clit. “So about you being a bit bratty earlier today..” she circled your clit gently and she stared into your eyes, “I think I have to discipline you a bit, yeah?”

You were willing to do anything she asked really, and said “Yes” She rewarded that answer with her moving pressing slightly harder, you ached wanting more “I’m sorry Regina, I’ll be good” she let out an approving hum.

“Tell me when you’re close baby, don’t finish unless I say so,” She said, “can you do that for me?”

“Yes” and she rewarded you by pressing against your clit faster “Ah, Jesus- Regina, it feels good” you moaned out and rested your head in the crook of her neck. “Faster please,” you begged needing more friction.

“God you’re so fucking pathetic” but she obliged and touched you faster. “You like when I call you pathetic baby?”

“Fuck, yes!” each thrum against your clit sent you closer and closer to orgasm, and you felt your stomach tighten and your legs trembled “Regina I’m close,” But as soon as you said that her fingers were off you and you whined “No.. please, let me come” your orgasm dissipated and your clit ached.

“Mm no” she responded back, “Lay down spread your legs” You climbed off her and spread your legs, and she lifted the shirt to reveal your wet cunt to her. You closed your legs when she stared, but she pried them back open. She started at your inner thigh and left kisses, marks, and bites all the way up to your pussy, where she licked a long stripe from your entrance to your clit. You arched your back wanting more.

She licked your clit gently at first and then harder, “Regina” you gasped out, and you bucked your hips into her face then she pushed them back down. You looked down and you saw her looking back at you while she ate your pussy out. She flicked her tongue across your clit and you said her name between moans and pants.

While her tongue abused your clit she gathered your slick around her fingers and slid two digits inside you, making you gasp. Pumping her fingers in and out hitting your g-spot your legs began to shake again “Fuck, I’m close. Please don’t stop mommy” But she pulled away leaving you on the edge again. She moved up and kissed you, tasting your wetness on her tongue.

“You’re doing so good for me, pet” She praised and kissed you again letting you rest before she edged you again. “Color?”

“Green” you replied, the ache between your legs hurt but it felt so good to be at the end of her wrath. Then she went back down to lick your clit again, slower this time wanting to draw out your agony a little bit.

She pulled away to look at your cunt “You have such a pretty pussy, you know that pet?” she then thrust two fingers back inside you before you could respond, curling them against your g-spot, your back arched again, making your collar clink slightly and she went back down to lick your clit again.

Her tongue slowly increased speed and pressure as she licked circles around the bud, her fingers still moving inside you. Suddenly she sucked on your clit and you almost fell over the edge “Wait! close- fuckk” you said to her and she stopped again, you didn’t want to come without her permission, you wanted to be good for her.

You were sexually frustrated, tears pricked at the corner of your eye and she took her clean hand and wiped them away “Does your pussy ache sweetie?” her tone was sadistic as she smiled. You just nodded and she cooed “My poor pet” you whined as she teased you. “One more time, can you handle it?”

You nodded eagerly and she lifted your shirt revealing your tummy and left marks down your stomach to your pussy once more, you involuntarily bucked your hips and she slammed your hips down against the mattress, she was stronger than she let on. She started licking once more and it drove you crazy, your clit was sensitive from the edging, she sucked on it occasionally. Then slid two fingers inside you again. “Regina” you drew out her name and she bit gently at your clit. “You feel so good..” then you were sure you could feel her smirk between your legs.

Your legs trembled again as she licked over your clit directly and relentlessly. A third finger stretched your pussy, and you moaned her name again and again. You pleaded “Regina please, please let me come, please” you whined out and looked down waiting for approval, but she just looked at you and sucked your clit hard. “Regina, please- fuck! I can’t, I can’t hold it, please I’m all yours please”

You were about to come crashing over the edge and then she lifted her head replacing her tongue with her thumb and she strummed your clit quickly “Go on baby, come for me” You almost screamed her name but she kissed you and muffled your sounds, she pulled away from the kiss.

The only words that came out of your mouth as you came was her name “thank you” and “don’t stop” She loved watching the scene before her. Her collared pet writhing and coming under her touch. Regina only stopped when you pushed her hand away, overstimulated.

She put her fingers in your mouth “Clean up your mess pet” you sat up and licked her fingers clean.

When you finished you kissed her hand and murmured “Thank you for letting me finish” she smiled and grabbed a water bottle from her table and held it to your mouth. Your mouth was dry from moaning her name so much.

“You okay there nerd?” she asked gently. She was worried she was too rough on you.

“I’m all good, my legs just feel like jelly” you gave a soft smile and she leaned down to kiss one of your legs. She smiled back at you.

“You up to return the favor?” she straddled your hips as she waited for your answer. You pulled her by the collar of her shirt like she’s done to you and kissed her.

You let her pull away and said “Of course” and she pulled her panties off.

She moved up so her pussy was right over your mouth, she was practically dripping “Be a good doll and make me feel good” She lowered herself onto your mouth and you greedily licked her pussy, you loved how she tasted and you grabbed her hips to put her full weight onto you.

She groaned and began to grind against your tongue, you guided her hips back and forth and she started to move her hips faster “Oh fuck Y/N” you saw her close her eyes. “You’re such a good fuck toy aren’t you?” you moaned at her words and it sent vibrations through her clit “Do that again baby, touch yourself while I ride you” You reached a hand down between your legs and moaned against her again. Your body was sensitive too and you moaned loudly at how overstimulated your clit was.

Your other hand now moved to her ass and you squeezed it digging your nails into her ass and pushing her further down into your face. “God, you’re so good at pleasing me” she gripped your hair and moaned “Don’t stop, please” she sounded desperate and who were you to deny her pleasure when she asked so nicely?

As she approached her orgasm you felt her legs start to squeeze your head a little, and you also got closer, thrumming your finger against your clit. “Fuck I’m close, are you close baby?” she looked down at you “Can you come with me?” you nodded and sucked her clit harder she moaned your name and streams of obscenities, “Fuck- baby” is what she got out before her back arched and she tilted her head back. You moaned into her as your orgasm followed quickly after. She rode your face prolonging her ecstasy as long as possible and then she lifted off you.

You wiped off your face a little before she kissed you again “You’re perfect” you got out between her kissing you.

She climbed off the bed and held her hand out to you, “Let's get cleaned up, how’s that sound?”

You just took her hand and followed her to the bathroom attached to her room. She turned the shower on and got rid of her shirt, then turned to you, undoing your collar. Then you also stripped your shirt off.

She was so sweet it actually caught you off guard. She let you into the shower and asked “You sure you’re okay?” then started to wash your hair.

“I’m way more than okay Regina” you looked up at her and she continued to wash your hair gently “Did you have fun?” You wondered.

“Mmhm, I rode your face and came all over it, of course, I had fun” She rinsed your hair and you began to soap her hair up as well. You turned her around washed the ends of her hair and kissed her shoulder. "I also enjoy making a mess out of you, I hope I wasn't too rough on you"

"You weren't, it felt amazing" you whispered and placed another kiss on her shoulder.

She took a washcloth and washed her own body. Then turned you around, Regina started to lightly wash your back and shoulders "You're so cute" you heard her say quietly, while she washed the rest of the suds away.

When you hopped out of the shower she handed you a towel and you dried yourself off. You wrapped the towel around yourself and followed her back to the room where she got you clean clothes once again.

Instead of crawling into bed right away, Regina was seated on the edge of her bed and actually patted the empty space next to her, you sat next to her “I want to be very clear to you” her voice was serious with an air of worry to it.

Suddenly you felt like you did something wrong and apologized “Shit Regina did I do something wro-“

She cut you off “No! no, you didn’t,” she said quickly “Just listen okay?” Regina was nervous, and you knew she didn’t like to feel coddled but you grabbed her hand trying to support her and she let you. “I like you Y/N, not just to fuck or for homework” Your jaw dropped and she got defensive. “We don’t have to do this-“

“Regina, you like me like…” you paused to breathe “Crush like me?” you gripped her hand tighter hoping you interpreted that right.

“What other kind of ‘like’ is there for a confession, dumbass” she was rude and then apologetic “Sorry” you just laughed.

“You’re fine Regina, I can take when you’re mean to me” and brought your hand up to your lips and kissed it gently “But why? You have so many other people lined up for you other than me, and I’m like, socially awkward and weird”

“The awkwardness is a little charming” She claimed. “You were also hard to read at first, so quiet too. Like a little mouse”

You smiled "Glad you think so" and you kissed her hand again “You’re a little scary Regina”

“I know it’s a blessing and a curse” She just smiled back at you.

You stared at your intertwined hands “I didn’t know you liked me, like that” you bit your tongue “I thought you were just kidding, I’m kind of slow, aren’t I?”

“A bit,” she smiled “It’s okay loser, I know I send mixed signals sometimes, but I was flirting with you all those times before yesterday just so you know” Shit you were really slow.

You leaned in and kissed her “I like you a lot” You broke the kiss and looked into her eyes. You opened your mouth to say, ‘Please be mine’, but nothing came out.

Regina still looked a little nervous "I meant what I said you know, you're mine" She said possessively, she paused and was about to say something else but you cut in.

"I want you Regina, and I want to be yours as well." You declared

She poked fun at your statement "You're so cheesy" and pushed you away slightly and playfully. "Just get in the bed" You stood and lifted the covers and climbed in and let her in as well.

You laid on your back and she was on her side, she looked at you like she was admiring your features. Then you turned to ogle in realization, dumbfounded, "Wait you're my girlfriend now right?"

She flicked your forehead earning an "Ow" from you. She rolled her eyes "Yes loser, and for someone so smart, you're kinda dumbass too"

You grinned wide, "Your dumbass though right?"

The corners of her lips tugged up slightly, showing she enjoyed your small cheesy banter with her "Shut up"

"Fiiine" You inched closer to her and kissed her passionately, "Goodnight Regina" She turned over and you instinctively wrapped your arms around her.

"Goodnight nerd" she said tiredly.

You smirked and mumbled quietly "Your nerd" and you just heard a tsk sound and fell asleep with this beautiful goddess in your arms.

(sorry the bong thing might be a little corny, but the first time i used one, my girlfriend held it for me because i was scared of dropping it)

(heyyyy just wanted to add here at the bottom, that i moved really fast with all the kinky shit and collar stuff. this isn’t a perfect representation of bdsm, so please do your research! [I might rewrite a version of this over on ao3 to be longer so i can better portray that stuff realistically {also it’s because i feel bad}])

[seventeenreasonswhy]

Super Shy ~ A JWW School-Life Romance Pt. 1

Star Athlete!Wonwoo x Shy Wallflower!Reader

Jeon Wonwoo... THE Jeon Wonwoo is... paying attention... to you!?

~1.1k words

Series content: fluff, first crush plot line, school-life anime vibes, slow burn/yearning, some light angst, classmates to friends to lovers, fem reader, reader is ~*super shy*~ and has low self-esteem, reader is kind of bullied (?), sweetie pie Wonwoo, appearances by Choi Hansol and more!, all characters are in high school so no explicit content (but probably kissing eventually).

My Masterlist

Author’s note: Eeeee! I’ve been watching a lot of school life/romance anime these days and here we are lol. Wonwoo is so first love-coded I couldn’t help myself! And I needed something to distract myself from the pain and sorrow of Jeonghan enlisting. This is just part 1, but we’ll see how long this goes! hahaha. Thank you for reading!!! LMK if you want to be on the taglist 😊

Taglist: @yeoberryx @clownprincehoeshi @soffiyuhh @wonwoos-wineparty @hamji-hae @junniesoleilkth @seokqt @haniinah @yangtyunhannie @cherrylovescheol @iIIucere @lukeys-giggle @cookiearmy

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+

Despite the lingering winter chill, the time had come for the baseball team to start their pre-season training.

You didn’t know this because you were particularly fond of baseball. You (and everyone else in school) knew this because every morning a crowd of girls could be seen clinging to the chain-link fence surrounding the baseball fields.

There was only one reason why they gathered out there so early and in the freezing cold: Jeon Wonwoo.

Jeon Wonwoo was the star of the baseball team in the spring, the star of the track team in the summer, the star of the soccer team in the fall, and the star of the basketball team in the winter.

And everyone... everyone was in love with him.

Or, at least, that’s what it seemed like to you.

Spring came so fast, you thought as you shuffled your way to homeroom. You always got to class early since you didn’t really have friends to meet up with beforehand, and you didn’t play any sports. Your whole life existed within the path from your bedroom to school, only ever deviating to your parttime job at your uncle’s convenience store on the weekends, or occasionally to the library to study.

You glanced out the window to see the crowd of your classmates (not to mention girls from the grade below you and the grade above you) watching the baseball team’s practice game. You were impressed that they got up so early just to watch a practice.

Jeon Wonwoo was in your class, and you had technically spoken with him exactly one time. But still, you didn’t think you could say you’d ever had a ‘conversation’ with him.

Earlier in the year, you had been tasked with collecting everyone’s homework. He had been chatting with the guys seated behind him.

“Um,” you’d squeaked, barely audible, “... Excuse me?”

He had turned to you, looking directly at you through those dark, feline eyes. You could tell right away that they were the eyes of someone with effortless magnetism. Even you felt your face get flushed when they were trained on you.

“Uh, your homework—” was all you could muster, unable to meet his gaze.

“Oh,” he said, turning to rummage in his bag, “sorry about that—thank you!” he smiled as he handed you his assignment.

He seems nice, you’d thought.

And that was the extent of your interaction with Jeon Wonwoo. Months had passed now, and his seat was on the opposite side of the room from you.

And even though you wouldn’t like to admit it, the moment had stuck with you...

The smile on his face, the way it... sparkled?

You chalked it up to being the moment you really understood why so many people in school were obsessed with him. He was more than just handsome and a top athlete; he was actually really nice. Or appears nice... you’d remind yourself that you didn’t really know Jeon Wonwoo. You didn’t feel like you could say with certainty what kind of person he was.

He wasn’t the most outgoing guy in your grade, but he attracted a lot of attention. You’d never seen him exchange harsh words with anyone. You couldn’t imagine handling that kind of spotlight. You saw girls talk to him and flirt with him all the time—giving him gifts, following him to the cafeteria, passing him notes in class... he was always super nice to anyone who wanted to talk to him, but apparently he’d never reciprocated anyone in the school’s feelings. Sometimes you wondered whether he already had a girlfriend or not.

Someone like him is probably dating a model, you assumed.

Class was about to start, and people came pouring in one by one. You continued to stare out the window, until you felt a tug on your school blazer.

“Hi, Y/N!!” it was your classmate, Chaeryong. She sat in front of you. You weren’t really friends, but she was nice. You were kind of surprised that she approached you.

“I’m sorry to ask, but do you think I could look at your homework from last night?”

“Oh,” you said, coming back down to earth, “Sure.” You pulled your notes out and handed them to her.

“Thank you!!” she said, “I owe you!!”

She took her seat in front of you and started copying down your homework. You knew that it wasn’t right, but you also didn’t care that much if other students copied you. It wasn’t like you’d get in trouble or anything. Even the teachers tended to overlook you. A blessing and a curse at times.

“Your handwriting is so neat, Y/N!” Chaeryong said. Then, the girl who sat next to her asked to see your notes... and another boy from the row in front of her... until eventually, it seemed like the entire class was copying your homework.

“Uh,” you started to interject as yet another classmate asked to see your work, but right then, Jeon Wonwoo and Choi Hansol from the baseball team came in, both of them emitting a post-practice glow and completely disrupting the vibe.

“Ah, Wonwoo! You were going crazy at just a practice, I’m so impressed!” the guy currently clutching your notes turned and said to Wonwoo. You’d gotten out of your seat by now, and were about to reach for your work...

“Oh that was nothing,” Wonwoo said with a casually cocky grin, “what’s that?” He pointed at your homework with his chin.

“Oh, this is Y/N’s homework,” the guy said, “she’s letting me copy.”

“Um,” you said, starting to panic. I never said that!

“What?” Wonwoo said, his tone incredulous. “Do your own homework! Y/N, you don’t have to let this clown copy your work.” His tone was much sweeter when he spoke to you, making your stomach turn inexplicably.

“Aww, Wonwoo! Don’t be like that!” the guy whined.

“Do your own homework next time!” And he snatched the notes from this guy’s hand.

“Here you go,” he said softly as he handed you the notes.

“Th-thanks,” you said, feeling completely flustered. You all but ran back to your seat. Maybe he is really nice, you thought.

“Man, bad timing,” another girl giggled, “we already got to copy Y/N’s notes.”

“Wait, how many people are just copying Y/N?” Wonwoo asked, but the room didn’t answer—instead shuffling off to their respective seats, continuing their own pre-class banter. Wonwoo looked across the room at you while you tried to crawl inside your own skin out of embarrassment. He almost went over to you... but he saw the look on your face and decided against it.

[slvttyplum]

✮⋆˙ oil change | toji fushiguro

synopsis: this mechanic wants to get paid, but in another way

contents: lowercase spelling, not ethical, car sex, fem nicknames, smut.

getting an oil change was hell; it always ended in you paying extra for something you didn’t need. you couldn’t even speak up because you weren’t sure about all the parts.

that’s why you started going to stanley's; he’s a friend of a friend and works on the dirt road with three other friends.

he never scams you and even gives you little touch-ups for free.

“you’re a pretty girl; let me do this for ya.” he’ll say it every time, and you’ll always oblige. as long as he didn’t touch you, all is well.

it was that time again—the oil change. as much as you appreciated this new place, the drive down was hell.

the road was extra rocky as you pulled into the parking lot. a man outside pouring something on the ground, his head turning, and your eyes meeting.

shit.

you quickly divert your eyes and turn off your car. your eyes slide back up, and you notice his attire.

he works there; oddly, you’ve never seen him.

grabbing everything out of the car and walking inside the small building, the smell of garage and gasoline.

miles, a long-time worker, flashes you a smile while tapping his pen.

“didn’t think i’ll see you so soon. what do you need, princess?” his eyes flicking to the computer, then back at you.

“i’ve been on the road a lot, and i realized it’s time for another oil change.” a sweet smile on your face.

tapping his pen some more, he writes something down, then begins typing on the computer.

“stan’s out today, so i don’t think he can do it.” a sigh releasing between his lips, you’re almost devastated until you remember he gave you a voucher.

“ah, he said i can get it free this time since i helped his daughter with something.”

miles looks at you, then back at the computer, a smirk crossing his lips.

“mm, you’re a sweet girl. i hope you’re not lying.” shooting you a wink, he rips off the piece of paper he was writing on and walks outside.

just the basic information and what not, you begin walking to the side of the room where the chairs are, but a tap on the shoulder stops you.

“oil change for pretty girl?” a deep voice sending chills down your body, for who?

you turn around, looking face-to-face with the man you saw outside; his build is strong, and he has a grumpy look on your face.

awe, how cute.

“sorry?” you say, your hand balling up the paper and the other slipping in your back pocket.

“miles, he said that’s what they call you."

your eyebrow lifts up, and you chuckle to yourself at the name. how corny can men be? but hey, free service is free service.

“oh yeah, here, i’m sorry.” you quickly unball the paper, giving it to him, his big, rough hand sliding over yours.

he slides his thumb over yours as he takes the paper, his eyes squinting and reading it as he looks back at you.

“aight, give me 15.” he says, walking off, his broad shoulders and back pressing through the uniform, he was fine as hell.

you walk over to the seats, flopping down, crossing one leg over the other, and resting your elbow on the small table beside you.

the bell rings from the garage door as the dark-haired man walks in. your eyes flicker to his face, then to his name tags as he walks closer.

“toji…” you mutter out. he’s standing there holding out the paper, a black streak on his face and his hands covered in debris.

“here, i heard this one is free, but i don’t know how i feel about that.” his hand running through his hair as he stares you down.

your mouth is open, and you’re stunned, not really planning on spending money and not really wanting to, but then again, he was the one who did the change, not stanley.

“that’s fair, toji, was it? i can give you a twenty.” you take your purse from around your arm, digging in it, and he shakes his head.

“nah, nah. you can me in another way, mama.” his body coming a little closer, hiding all the light from the window that was in front of you.

your eyebrow lifts up when you see he’s a little too close, shifting up in your seat and clutching your purse.

“like what?” your voice echoed off the walls of the small enclosed space.

a scoff escaping his lips as he puts a hand in his pocket and leans down, his lips near your ear.

you’re so nervous that you’re almost shaking.

“you look too good to pass up; i just wanna have a little fun, yeah?” the silence after his words sends a chill down your spine.

your eyes were staring at him, and a tiny sparkle could be seen setting in your pupil.

a pen could be heard dropping; did you even want that? clearing your throat, you quickly stand up.

your body is directly pressed against his. startled. you try to step back, but his hand is too fast, sliding around your waist.

the silence between you two is suffocating, but yet again, it was arousing. a light scent of his cologne whiffing by.

"okay," you say, your back straightening as he slides his hand down. a smirk can be seen if you look closely.

“after you, princess.” his voice was low and deep. you move his hand off your waist and into your hand as you walk to the parking lot.

you slip your keys out of your purse, unlocking the car door. his body hangs over the door as you slide in, his elbow resting on top of the car.

“car sex, classy.” he chuckles, getting in after you, slamming the car door, and immediately unbuttoning his attire.

the windows were tinted, so it calmed your nerves, but the fine man in front of you made your heart race.

sliding off your shoes, you feel your pants unbuttoning. looking up, you see toji undoing them for you, sending butterflies to your stomach.

“i can do it," you say, pushing his hand off and unzipping your pants.

he laughs, pulling off the t-shirt he had on under, revealing his greek-sculpted body.

with his skin glistening from sweat and his abs sitting up just right, clearing your throat, you finally slip off your pants.

“knew you had something nice under there.” he blurts out, pushing off his jumpsuit, now completely naked with nothing but his briefs.

“i could say the same.” you say, slipping off your shirt, completely forgetting you had on no bra.

his mouth hangs open but quickly returns closed when you cover them, he licks his lips, leaning forward.

“no need to be shy; i’ll take good care of you.” his quiet whisper making you feel tingly, like a waterfall forming in between your thighs.

damn, were you that easy? no, no, no.

his hand comes up, caressing your sides, slowly inching towards your hips, leaning closer towards you.

your face moves on its own, and before you know it, your lips are connecting, your soft lips hitting his instantly and moving in sync.

his head turning to the side as he kisses you deeper, his tongue swiping over your lip and instantly moving in.

a sensation between your legs being made, and you let out a moan into his mouth, your eyes darting down seeing his hand in between your thighs.

quickly shutting your eyes and getting immersed in the kiss again, his large, rough hand gripping your hip.

spreading your thighs out, letting him in. his finger swipes down your slit, then to the side of your panties pushing them to the side.

he disconnects the kiss, sighing, leaning up, and picking up both your legs, causing you to gasp.

“these are getting in the way.” he puts both your legs up, having them lean on his hand as he slides your panties off.

the air instantly hitting your heat as you let your panties fall on the floor, the warm heat hitting your cheeks with embarrassment.

maybe this was a bad idea. you try to lean up, but toji leans down, placing a kiss on your lips, then your jaw, wet kisses all down your body.

he stops at your stomach, looking directly into your eye; your throat is dry with nervousness.

he pushes your thighs back, looking directly at your cunt, sliding a finger down your wet slit, causing you to let out a tiny moan.

“a little taste can’t hurt, right?” before you could even answer, hes leaning down and placing a kiss on your warm pussy.

even his kisses felt good, the butterflies swarming in your stomach. he takes a swipe of your pussy causing you to shiver.

sliding a finger over your slit a couple of times, then sliding it in with no warning, a moan escaping your lips.

“don’t wanna be too loud; that’s if you don’t wanna get caught, princess.” his words sent a pleasurable tingle down to your heat.

your hand arm reaches down, and placing your hand on his head, he looks at you, smirking, before swiping a long, wet stripe over your slit.

he leans in some more as his tongue swipes over your clit, pushing his finger into you some more.

taking another swipe of your slit, he curves his finger up and pushes it further back, his lips pursing and forming an o shape as he sucks on your clit.

“fuck…” you moan out, your hand balling into a fist as you grab his hair.

he keeps sucking your clit for a few seconds before leaning up, his body almost pressing against the roof.

leaning down, he grabs his uniform and digs in the pocket, pulling out a condom. you squint your eyes while reading the wrapper.

XL

you swallow hard, eyeing him down, his black hair hanging low and his dark eyes looking down at the wrapper as he pulls it to his mouth and bites off the top.

he quickly slides his briefs down, his hard length plopping on his stomach, the tip passing his stomach.

toji laughs when he notices your shaken expression, carefully lining himself with you and slipping on the condom.

“no need to look like that; i told you i’ll take care of you, yeah?” your eyes flicker at him as he leans down and slowly pushes himself into you.

“wait…” you try to finish your sentence, but he’s already pushing himself into you. he leans down, placing a kiss on your lips.

you wrap your arms around him, and he puts one hand on your waist, the other balancing himself on the side of you.

you can feel him getting deeper inside of you, his warm lips taking you in whole.

he slowly disconnects from the kiss, placing a kiss on your jaw and then your chest, sliding his tongue over the same spot, then sucking.

a soft moan escaping your lips as the tingling sensation from the sucking and him getting fuller inside you.

his eyes never once left your face, making you nervous. no hesitation, he slides out of you and thrusts into you with full force.

“FUCK!” you scream out, your arms sliding off his neck and your hands gripping his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin.

that doesn’t bother him; he continues sucking your chest, taking all of you in and pushing into you deeper.

he slides his tongue over to a new spot on your chest, sucking there, another moan slipping out of your pretty mouth.

when he slides out of you again and pushes back into you, your eyes bulge out, feeling a sharp sensation of pleasure deep inside you.

“go harder, toji.” you whimper out, he doesn’t hesitate, and he goes even harder, pushing into you deeper.

your head pushing against the car door, he grips the seat as your nails dig into his skin.

he leans up, a spitstring from your chest and his lower lip connecting, his eyes sliding down to your lips.

he leans down, pushing his lips into yours hard as he pushes into you deeper; this time you could feel it even better.

the pleasure heightened, your eyes sliding back, nothing but darkness and blank white spots scattering around.

you couldn’t see anything, but you could feel how close he was—your lips connecting, his wet lips combing with your soft ones.

“you feel so fucking good," he grunts out, pushing deeper inside you. the car slightly shaking, causing your head to push into the door.

his pace gets faster, your walls clenching around him, taking in everything he’s giving you, and your body feeling light.

his body slamming into yours and his flesh combining with yours was everything; your body felt like it was on fire, getting drenched out with water.

pushing into you again, your walls clench around him tight, your body jolting, and a knot deep in your stomach falling.

a loud moan ripples into toji’s mouth as he pushes deeper inside you, giving your sweet spot a kiss.

“tell me… tell me you want him.” he grunts out, trying to slide out your tight, wet pussy. the grip he had on your hip tightened, his fingernails digging into you.

a soft moan escaping, you squint your eyes and open them, his still on you. he places a kiss on your jaw and leans into your ear.

“i want you… so tell me you want me.” he says, his voice still deep. he slides out of you, then back into you, a cough erupting from your throat.

he leans back to your face, pressing a sloppy, wet kiss on your lips. your eyes are low and dark, and a tiny tear drop in the corner of your eye.

all you can do is nod. you felt too good; you couldn’t ruin the moment with words. he was close; you could feel the veins on his dick pulsing against your slick walls.

all he could do was laugh, but he couldn't. the pleasure bubbling inside of him couldn't, and a final thrust sends the both of you over the edge.

your toes curl, and your fingernails dig into his skin, along with his whole dig into your hip. he places a final kiss on your jaw before pushing his chest against yours.

his grip on you loosening, your body shutting down, your hands falling to the side, and your eyes closing.

the silence was sharp but comfortable. you slowly opened your eyes, and his head was laid against your shoulder.

his hair was disheveled and his breathing heavy; you could see his eyes closed and no discomfort in his body language.

he looked cute. before you could get any more thoughts out, his eyelids flickered open, and your eyes diverted elsewhere.

laughing, he slowly leans off of you, pushing his hair out of his face and picking up your panties and handing them to you.

the both of you get dressed up in comfortable silence, stealing glances at each other.

“when you come back, i’ll give you services for free.” he says, buttoning back up his uniform, his eyes locked on you.

your eyes lift up in surprise as you flatten down your hair, a smile sneaking on your face.

“no need. thank you for the oil change." you say, putting your purse in the front seat.

you’re about to open the car door before he grabs your arm.

“let’s grab a bite, dinner, whatever; let me take you out.” desperation coating his tone. you smiled and let out a chuckle.

“sure, toji, text me; my number should be in the system.”

with that, he went back to work, and you went back home with a stupid grin on your face. whatever happens, happens.

[theofficialpresidentofmars]

zuko and katara have genuinely SUCH an interesting dynamic and relationship to explore when you don’t have a bitch in your ear trying to tell you they should kiss.

like there’s nothing objectively wrong with shipping zut4ra but i CANNOT find any proper duo content of them that isn’t romantic or romantically implied and it annoys me. no i don’t think they would work. no i don’t think Katara would give up her man for that guy of all people. no I don’t think Zuko would be romantically interested in Katara. yes i do think that reducing all of their feelings towards each other into ‘romance’ oversimplifies and undermines the depth of the platonic relationship that they actually do have in established canon. yes whatever I’m sure there’s something sweet about a boy trying to get a girl to forgive him by helping her get revenge on the guy that killed her mom but don’t you think that it’s actually much more profound if there are no romantic ulterior motives whatsoever and it’s actually just a demonstration of the lengths Zuko will go to because he cares deeply about his friends and their feelings and what they think about him and he wants Katara to like him and he’s genuinely sorry that he broke her trust by warming up to her slightly before betraying them and to make sure she knows that he was being sincere and he actually was touched by what she said he tries to find a way for her to heal a wound that he knows tears her apart and it’s a wound he wishes he could heal in himself. and he does it because he’s trying to earn her forgiveness, not her love. he’s trying to earn himself the right to look her in the eye, not to hold her hand. he’s trying to amend for the mistakes of his people for nothing but the better of others.

and when Katara offers to heal him in the cave, it’s not because she’s fallen head over heels at all, or even in the slightest. she’s the first to see the light in him, and she sees a boy who’s been hurt by the fire nation in a similar way to her. she recognises that if she can convince him to come with her now, the gaang is up by a firebending teacher and a friend at best, and down an enemy at least at worst. for a moment she sees him for who he is and what he’s been through and it’s not because she likes him. the thought doesn’t even cross her mind, it’s just in her nature as a person to be caring and understanding and she has the help she can tell he needs, so she extends a hand.

and when they face Azula together? Katara was the first to reach out when it was almost the right time, and she’s the one who’ll be there to help him see it through. When he takes a bolt for her, isn’t it more profound that he jumps in front of the bolt not out of romantic love, but because Zuko is the kind of person who would put himself in mortal danger for anyone he cared about? Because his heart’s too big and because he’s seen those he love get hurt too many times to stand there and let them take it?

anyway I’ve spent too much of this post refuting romance but not actually expressing what it is i do like about their platonic dynamic but it’s late and i don’t have the words. so i’ll just say it’s such in that it would be really funny if Zuko instead dated Katara’s brother. and they yap together and she gives him a list of interests and he tells her embarrassing date stories. they also yap a lot about Aang because like. Zuko’s bff and Katara’s bf he’d probably come up a lot. also Maiko’s platonic shit-talking exes/close friends dynamic solos their romantic dynamic but that’s a discussion for another day ^-^

ship name censored because I don’t intend for any negativity to actually intrude upon certain shipping spaces lmao. i’m rarely opinionated but i don’t really care tbh i just wish there was more platonic stuff out there or i saw less romantic stuff el oh el

[preeningpisces]

Geto NSFW Headcanons

Im gonna try not to be biased because this is my main bitch right here 🖤

Lemme know if you want me to elaborate or write about any of these headcanons

(literally any ask about Geto will make me do somersaults—backflips, even)

18+ content below the cut, mdni, implied chubby f!reader

Pre-Incident

꩜ Geto is interesting because before he snaps and after he snaps feel like two different vibes in regards to sex

꩜ Doting, almost like a service-dom. He likes taking care of you, but he also prefers to have control. Though not so controlling that he can’t ever be submissive

꩜ Major smooth-talker, like Gojo said, he has a silver tongue. Likes a mixture of praise and degradation. The degradation is usually teasing, and doesn’t extend past the usual slut, whore, etc. range…usually

꩜ Sometimes it comes out corny tho lmfao pls roast him when it does

꩜ Good at making you feel sexy. The type that will kiss you all over, giving extra affection to areas you aren’t as fond of. It’s difficult at first, but with time you become more comfortable

꩜ Very sensual, and intimate. He has good self-control, & is very patient so he can draw things out & drive you crazy. Like he can spend all-too-long just toying with your mouth, denying you the kiss you so desperately want. Barely brushing your lips and teeth with his thumb, before pinching your tongue between fingers. Wowee

꩜ Refuses to kiss you after absorbing curses. Even though no one else can taste them, the thought of tasting like that is enough for for him to refuse; he doesn’t want you to go through it too. Also, tasting shit-vomit in your mouth doesn’t exactly get the schlong schlinging, yknow

꩜ I suspect absorbing curses gives him an immediate surge of negative emotions, so he usually needs space. Sometimes he just wants to hold you, or be held, in silence

꩜ Can be surprisingly playful in bed

꩜ Really likes fucking you from below. Smooshing your soft breasts and stomach against him, and feeling your weight on top of him. Holding you still so he can rail you while whispering sappy, dirty shit in your ear. I’m passing out someone help

꩜ I’ve been poisoned by the perv!geto fics on here, and can’t see him as not being a secret pervert. Just slightly. It takes a while for him to reveal that side to you, since he tries to appear refined and respectable

꩜ Definitely the type that likes music in the background; I see him as someone who cares about music a lot in general. You know he likes you if he’s sharing song recs

꩜ Lots of playlists, and even has a few sex playlists with different moods. Usually prefers things that are chill, but has a few harder-hitting songs—this is why he needs the playlists, lol. He doesn’t like when the vibe changes too much

꩜ One time you sneak Cbat onto his playlist & make him laugh so much he loses his boner. At that point did you really win? Hmm?

꩜ Tbh he’s got game & is aware of it. You gotta humble him occasionally or else he becomes insufferable

Post-Incident

꩜ This Geto is a lot more self-centered, aggressive, and sadistic in bed. I wouldn’t say he’s a tyrant tho

꩜ Will legit punish you when you disobey, no funishments here. Big into humiliation

꩜ My heart is telling me shibari, especially the kind that can be hidden beneath clothes. Particular about the color, and will pick ones that flatter your skin tone. Obsessed with the way the ropes pinch and dig into your soft body. He’ll bite and squeeze the parts that spill over the ropes

꩜ One punishment would be walking around secretly tied up, but the style where one of the ropes rubs against your pussy as you walk. It sounds nice at first, but that bitch is gonna chafe for sure

꩜ He’s more selfish than before, yes, but he still maintains a proclivity for doting—we all see how he spoils his daughters! It’s like, he gets his turn first, and when it’s your turn, it's your turn. Multiple orgasm king. He’ll do it until you’re sobbing tho, so pray for your pussy

꩜ Loves making you choke on his cock—gets kind of intense with the bjs. Mfer needs to chill (and buy you some throat lozenges)

꩜ Doggystyle is his favorite without a doubt, he just wants to pin your face to the bed and watch your ass bounce

꩜ A lot of the previous stuff is still applicable to some degree, but I think he has a lot less patience at this point, and is waaaay more into degradation & domination

꩜ He gets legitimately mean sometimes lmfao it’s like you gotta have 2 safewords: one for physical intensity level, and the other for bullying level 😭

꩜ Would he sleep with a non-sorcerer? Honestly, I can’t decide. If he did tho, he would be SO FUCKING MEAN I don’t even want to think about it !!!

꩜ Does he use monkey in bed unironically?? Chat pls advise

[ugh-yoongi]

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

[flowercitti]

Hi, I read your one Astarion story "wanted to kiss your skin and your everything." First I would like to say it was so good it kinda made me wanna cry it was so sweet it's definitely one of my favorites I've read. :) But I saw at the bottom you said about a request so I was wondering if you would be willing to write a fic about Astarion and Asexual Tav/Reader. I honestly don't have any other specifics, but I haven't seen a lot of Ace content with BG3 which I understand but I would really love to see more. Please don't feel pressured or anything, thank you in the least. Have a great day or night :)

Wahh thank u sm I’m so glad you enjoyed that fic! 🤍☺️ and thank you sm for sending a request, I really love this idea! 🫶 here’s a little Drabble 🫶.

Fluff/Gender Neutral Reader/Ace Reader

🌸

You can’t say you’re surprised when Astarion propositions you. He’s open and flirtatious and he seems to now exactly what he’s doing, as well as being so wholly aware of the affect he has on people. He may not be able to see himself, but he’s learned well enough from the reactions his pretty face garners.

You agree with that assessment, he is rather beautiful, but when it comes to sex—

“What?” Astarion seems nearly speechless, his silver tongue gone heavy in his mouth as he blinks, coming damn close to outright stuttering, “I—I mean, surely you—I’ve seen how you look at me!” He huffs, looking frustrated and confused and completely thrown off.

It’s almost endearing, to see him grow so flustered, his suave persona melting through his shock. You can’t help but smile, “I’m just not really interested in sex. That’s all.” You shrug, and Astarion looks at you as if that tadpole in your head has finally started to transform you.

“You’re still very pretty and utterly charming, don’t worry.” You inform him, and Astarion chuckles, if only out of disbelief.

“Good to know I haven’t lost my touch.” He sniffs delicately, looking away from you, his full lips pursed in a slight pout.

You watch him shift from foot to foot nervously, ruby eyes regarding you warily, brows pinched as he seems to wager whether you’re lying to him or not.

“You don’t want me, then?” He says carefully, a faux sort of lightness infused in his tone. You see through it immediately. His eyes always give him away, glittering in the moonlight and fanned by dark lashes.

“I didn’t say that.” You manage a step closer, chewing on the inside of your lip, “It’s just the sex I don’t want. Everything else—I’m interested.”

“What else could you possibly want from me, then?” He seems to blurt, his mouth twisting out of confusion rather than anger, his gaze flickering away anxiously.

Something in your chest pangs, a painful churn behind your ribs. He looks like he believes it, like he thinks you’re teasing him or leading him on. You frown softly, holding your hand out between the two of you, leaving it open for him to take should he choose.

“I could show you, if you’d like.”

He stares at your hand like it’s a live trap, like it’s fit to spring its spikes into him the moment he reaches out. There’s a strange flicker of emotion that shifts across his face—relief, consideration, fear. His mouth parts, a quiet breath pressing past his lips as he considers you, seeming not to notice the long seconds that pass by. But he keeps his eyes steadily on you as he slowly slips his fingers over yours. His skin is unnaturally cool, perfectly smooth and untouched by calluses. You can nearly see him shudder from the simple contact, his face twitching in surprise, crimson eyes like pools of shining blood.

“I don’t see the point of this, surely there’s more I could do for you—”

You shush him, delighting in the scandalized look he rewards you with, “No. I like this more.” And you think he does to, more than he lets on, more than the sex he had been tempting you with.

His eyes are strangely glassy even as he huffs, looking down at your joined hands.

“You have better not be playing me.” He mutters, but he sounds nearly breathless as you thumb gently over his wrist. Your other hand comes up to hold his between both of yours, as if you could press heat into his lifeless flesh.

“You’ll just have to wait and see, then.” You say playfully, but your fingers are delicate as they trace the bones of his knuckles, finding the lines of his veins. You’re closer now than you were before, Astarion’s eyes just slightly widened as they regard you. His fingers shift in your hold, his thumb pressing experimentally into your palm.

He looks as if he’s never done this before, surprise and awe dancing over his face despite how hard he attempts to hide it.

“I suppose that I will.” He rasps, his head tilting to the side in wonder, and you meet him with small smile.

🌸

Astarion-flavored Requests are still open 🫶🤍 thank u sm for reading.

[solarmorrigan]

They aren’t high, but they might as well be.

It’s so late that it’s early, sitting in those odd hours of motionless night when exhaustion throws a ridiculous filter over everything and it’s an effort not to laugh loud enough to alert Robin’s parents to the fact that there’s an unauthorized boy in her room.

She and Steve have been lying side by side on her bed for the last hour, both knowing they should probably go to sleep if they’re going to wake up with enough time for Steve to sneak out and actually drive home safely, but they’re not quite ready yet. Instead, they’re content to be pressed together, shoulder to ankle, hands intertwined between them, content to feel the other secure and nearby.

Robin lifts their hands and uncurls her fingers, spreading them open like a star and prompting Steve to do the same, until their hands are pressed flat together with their fingers outstretched.

“Your hands are bigger than mine,” Robin says, looking at the way her palm fits into Steve’s with room to spare and the way his fingers extend past hers by almost a whole knuckle.

“Probably because I’m bigger than you,” Steve says, also lazily gazing at the way their hands fit together.

“Yeah, but they’re, like, way bigger than mine,” Robin insists. “You have really big hands.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “They’re not that big. You just have stubby fingers.”

“Rude. You just have giant hands.”

“I do not.”

“Like mittens.”

“No.”

“Banana hands.”

“You are literally the only girl who has ever said something bad about the size of my hands.”

Robin smacks her free hand against Steve’s chest. “Ew.”

Steve is laughing. “You started it.”

“Lies,” Robin says, taking Steve’s hand in both of hers so she can continue examining it. “Why are your nails so nice?”

Steve watches as Robin traces the tips of her fingers over the even cuticles and neatly trimmed ends of his nails. “Because I take care of them, and I don’t bite them, unlike some people.”

“I never bite your nails,” Robin says, smiling as Steve groans dramatically.

“That was terrible. You’re terrible.”

“Nope, you love me.”

“I can love you even if you’re terrible.” Steve turns his hand so he can catch one of Robin’s and look it over for himself. “You’ve been biting your nails a lot lately.”

Robin shrugs. “Stressed,” is all she offers; she doesn’t really have to say much more for him to get it.

Steve frowns, threading his fingers back through hers and squeezing. “You used to paint them, didn’t you? Like, to help you remember not to chew on them so much?”

“I did, yeah,” Robin says thoughtfully. “It’s been a while since I’ve even thought about doing that.”

“You should do it again. Give your nails a chance to heal,” Steve says.

Robin hums, as if she has to think it over. “Only if you let me paint yours, too.”

And maybe it’s the fact that it’s after two a.m., but all Steve does is shrug and say, “Yeah, sure.”

Robin sits up on the bed like Dracula popping up out of his coffin, turning to stare at him with her bedhead flying wild around her face. “Seriously?”

“You want me to say no?” Steve asks.

“Well I didn’t expect you to just say yes!” Robin says in a hushed yell. “I thought I’d have to argue you down.”

Steve grins. “Go get your nail polish before I change my mind, Buckley.”

He doesn’t have to tell her twice. Robin swings her legs off the bed and goes to her dresser, digging through her makeup case and returning with a handful of black-capped bottles.

“Pick your poison, Harrington.” Robin gestures to the array of colors.

Steve is slow to sit up, stretching and groaning before he turns to sit cross-legged in front of Robin. “You pick. I’ve never had my nails painted before, so we’ll have to go with your expertise.”

“Hmm.” Robin clasps her fingers together under her chin, tapping her lips with her index fingers as if this is the most serious decision she’ll ever have to make. Finally, her hand flashes out and grabs one of the bottles, holding it up and wiggling it for Steve to see. “How about a little navy blue, sailor?”

Steve rolls his eyes, but he can’t tamp down his smile. “Why not?”

“Okay, gimme your hand.” Robin holds her hand out for Steve’s, palm up and fingers making grabby curls.

Steve puts out his left hand and lets Robin place it on her knee, fingers outstretched while he waits for Robin to shake the bottle of polish thoroughly and unscrew the cap.

“Try to hold still,” Robin instructs him, biting the tip of her tongue between her teeth in concentration as she applies the brush to his thumbnail.

Obligingly, Steve holds as still as possible, content to watch as Robin works her way from his thumb and onto his index finger, coating his nails in shining wet navy blue.

He pulls his hand away for a moment when Robin has to dip the brush back in the bottle for more polish, looks over her handiwork, and lets out a low whistle.

“Wow,” he says, putting his hand back down on Robin’s knee when she gestures for it. “You really suck at this.”

Robin lets out a surprised bark of laughter, narrowly avoiding streaking nail polish down the length of Steve’s finger. “Fuck off, I do not!”

“You kinda do, Rob,” Steve says, his voice full of warmth even as he denounces her skill with a brush.

“How would you even know?” Robin jibes. “You said you’ve never had your nails painted before.”

“I know the nail polish isn’t supposed to go over the edges of the nail,” Steve shoots back.

They both pause to look at the way the polish has been laid thick over the skin on either side of Steve’s nails and has even dribbled a little bit onto the tip of one of his fingers.

“Shut up. It’s a process,” Robin finally says, taking the brush to his ring finger.

“A process, huh?”

“Yes! You paint the nails, and then you use nail polish remover and, like, a Q-tip to clean up the edges.”

“Uh huh.”

“You’re just fussy, that’s all,” Robin pronounces, grinning at Steve’s little noise of offense.

“I am not fussy,” he insists.

“You kinda are, Steve,” Robin replies. “Anyway, I’d like to see you do a better job.”

“Deal,” Steve says, maybe a little too quickly for Robin’s liking. “I’ll do your nails next.”

“Well that, I have to see,” Robin says, putting the brush back into the bottle and motioning for him to switch hands.

True to her word, Robin quietly retrieves the nail polish remover and some Q-tips from the bathroom and neatens up her paintjob once she’s finished, and Steve appraises her work like a jeweler looking over and handful of gems.

“Not bad, Buckley,” he says, shrugging his lips.

Robin rolls her eyes. “What are you now, a fashion critic? Hurry up and paint my nails so I can make fun of you.”

Steve’s answering grin is unsettlingly sharp, but Robin still lets him pick the color. He settles on red—“To accent the blue, obviously”—and shakes the bottle before pulling the brush and starting on Robin’s left hand where it rests on his knee.

His strokes are smooth and even, not once straying over the edges of her nails, not even over the bitten, ragged ends, and he moves from one finger to the next with a kind of practiced ease.

“What the fuck!” Robin barely remembers to keep her voice down in her outrage. “Why are you good at this?”

Steve ducks his head, clearly holding in a laugh. “I used to paint Carol’s nails for her all the time.”

“Carol Perkins?” Robin asks, brows furrowed.

“Did I spend a lot of time with any other Carols?” Steve shoots her a look from beneath his lashes before turning back to his work.

“Why?”

Steve shrugs. “She tried to get Tommy to do it one day and he refused, so she asked me to do it instead, and… I dunno, I figured, why not? I did suck at it at first,” he admits. “But I think she just liked having someone’s focus on her for the time it took to do her nails. And I guess I just – like, it felt good, I guess. Taking care of someone else, even just in that little way. And I liked how the nail polish looked when I finally got it right.

“Any time we hung out at her house, she’d ask me to paint her nails for her, or she’d steal my mom’s nail polish if we were at mine. It was, like… our thing, I guess?”

For a moment, Robin sits in the knowledge that Steve and Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins had actually been friends.

From the outside, the three of them had looked like a toxic hurricane of derision and unfairly nice bone structure; they were rarely seen without looks of condescending amusement or lounging around being too cool for everyone else. It had been easy to think of their arrangement as some kind of superficial bond of mutual bitchiness, but at the same time, everyone distantly knew that Steve and Tommy and Carol had been a package deal since at least middle school.

Tommy and Carol had been the only two people Steve routinely hung out with, now that Robin thinks about it. People from basketball and swim and other hangers-on came and went, but those two had been fixtures. They’d probably been his best friends.

And midway through Junior year, Steve had left them.

He’d realized they weren’t who he thought they were, or maybe he’d realized they weren’t who he wanted to be, but the fact is that he’d left behind the two people he’d known the longest and had stepped uncertainly forward without knowing if he’d have anyone at all after that.

For a while he’d had Nancy. Then had come Henderson and all the other rugrats – but as much as Steve loves them, that isn’t quite the same as friends your own age, is it?

But now, he has Robin.

And she’s going to make sure that’s worth something.

“I can’t believe I’ve had some kind of professional manicurist under my nose this whole time,” Robin laments, grinning at Steve when he glances up at her with a huff.

“I’m pretty sure you have to get paid to be a professional. Are you gonna pay me for my services?” he asks.

“I will pay you in love and affection,” Robin declares. “Money can’t buy you these things, Steve.”

“That’s convenient,” Steve shoots back.

“Isn’t it? And I’m going to paint your nails yellow next time,” Robin says.

Steve glances to the side, where Robin’s collection of nail polish sits. “You don’t have any yellow.”

“I’ll buy some.” Robin shrugs. “I think it would look good on you.”

“And you just assume I’m going to let you paint my nails again.” Steve raises an eyebrow at her as he dips the brush back in the bottle to rewet it for the last couple of nails.

“Yep,” Robin says easily.

Steve looks back down, like he really needs to focus that hard on getting the nail of her ring finger just right, but she can tell he’s biting down on a smile.

“Okay,” he finally says, quietly.

“Okay,” she echoes back, giving him a sleepy smile when he glances up.

It’s late, and it’s going to be even later by the time they can go to sleep without ruining their nails, and in fact they’re probably not going to get any sleep at all, but somehow, Robin doesn’t mind.

Even being sleep deprived together with Steve is better than anything she can think of doing apart.

[Prompt: Comparing hand sizes]

[i-luv-p0tat0es]

Glassheart Modern Prep School AU!!

This is just an idea I’ve had, it probably doesn’t make much sense without context but I’m posting this anyway!

Chloe has always had one goal. Be perfect. She knows it’s unrealistic, her therapist tells her it’s not the best goal to have. But it’s the standard that she sets for herself, and for the past 16 years she’s been doing a damn good job.

It’s funny how her entire world is flipped on its head when a new girl comes to town and shows her that her flaws are what make her perfect.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ✩°｡⋆˚⁺

Chloe suddenly regretted not accepting her father’s help with her bags. She had to haul her copious amount of luggage down the long and familiar halls of Auradon Prep. Eventually, she got to her dorm and set them down, she pulls out a small keycard and slides it into the lock. She waits for the green light to flash as she hears a click. She opens the door and starts to put all of her stuff down as she breathes in the familiar smell of her room.

With a content sigh she took in the space around her. It was mostly the same as when she left it, the walls were still that same off-white color, the beams still had the intricate wooden texture, and the windows had the same view she loved looking out at in the morning. She made sure to check the kitchenette first, looking for any faults, making sure the sink was running and the fridge was cold.

Chloe remembers her parents telling her about someone sponsoring the school, their child would be attending this year, and they had paid to put new equipment in all around the building. It showed when Chloe opened the cabinets expecting a loud squeak, but was met with silence instead.

Heading up to the loft she looked at the plain beds sitting up there and the door that leads to the balcony between them. She jumped onto the one she had claimed when she first moved in, sinking into the memory foam she reminisced on the past few years.

She remembered how happy she was to have no one sharing this space with her. It got lonely sometimes, but it made her cherish being on her own. So what she only had 2 real friends, one of them being her cousin, she was fine by herself. She talked to a lot of people, and people loved talking to her. Her last name had irony to it and it was not lost on her. But the conversations she had were only ever surface level with them. No one ever really stuck around.

And Chloe was perfectly fine with that.

She got up and walked into the bathroom, making sure everything was in good shape. Once her small check was done Chloe pulled out her phone and took a picture in the mirror smiling. She sends it to her family group chat, and grins as replies start flooding in.

Papa 👑: Theres my pretty girl!!

Brobear 🧸: nerd

Mommy💙: Hi darling! How’s move-in day going?

She’s about to reply to her mother when she hears the door click from downstairs. She goes out to check who entered when she’s met with a head she’d never seen on campus. She knew everyone on campus.

“Excuse me? Who are you?” Chloe called as she walked down the stairs to talk to the girl.

The girl whips her head around and Chloe freezes for a moment. When the girl’s fiery red hair falls to frame her face Chloe knows. She knows this must be the new student because she would have remembered that face. Chloe can’t help it when her eyes start to look over the girl, her amber eyes are glowing as the window lets the sunlight peak through the blinds, her nose ring standing out against her skin. And, God, the lips that start turning upward into a smirk. Chloe’s gaze flicks back up to the girl’s eyes when the lips start moving.

“W-What?”

“I said my name is Red,” Chloe blushes as she chided herself for not paying attention.

“You’re the new student?” She asks the obvious question because her mind is still trying to catch up after seeing the girl. She already knows the answer as Red nods. “And you’re staying here?”

[seuonji]

HII!! i love your writing sm (seriously helps sm after a long day) and i was just asking if you had the time or were inspired could you do how svt would react if their introvert s/o is like socially exhausted sfw (ive had to go to important social events everyday for two weeks straight and i am absolutely exhausted). (If you cant do svt then maybe coups?) Again thank you so much for the content and if you cant do it its perfectly fine.(Idk whether youre taking requests rn, so if you arent im so super sorry for bothering you)

from aya: HII!! omg i’m so happy to hear that my writings make you feel better T^T <3 i hope your days get better!! it can be exhausting but im happy to know you have things to fall back on so that you can relax!! love lots, hope you enjoy this!

btw! so sorry this took so long i’ve been busy with the real world too hahah. i did the 95z so that there was a variety in scenarios but do let me know if you want another member!!<3

seungcheol. he doesn’t really need words to know how you feel, he’d be able to tell just by the look on your face but even then, he can’t help but feel his heart sink seeing you so tired.

so when you came home after a long day and you weren’t your usual self, he immediately noticed it when he greeted you at the front door.

“tiring day today?” he tilted his head as he reached for your body, pulling you close and compressing himself onto you. he hopes that the hug would be comforting to you and it was. it’s as if the warmth of his hug melted your heart and it brought your back to life.

“do you want to have some alone time?” he totally understands if you do, he gets it if that’s the only way you can recharge

you weren’t sure if you wanted to see seungcheol today but he was your comfort. he felt you shake your head into his chest answering a no to his question and he just brushed your hair. slowly, he parted from the hug and took the things you were holding, “want to eat or anything?” no matter what you plan on doing, after this you two would spend the night with a long cuddle session that recharges you from the draining day.

if you want him to, he’d definitely whisper encouragements or advice on how to not get drained too quickly. as a fellow introvert himself, he knows best.

“it’s tiring but you handled it so well! just keep doing the same you’ll get used to it but if it gets too much just call me and i’ll be there for you,” he whispered as he stroked your hair.

+

jeonghan probably teased you at first.

“ahh yn your face looks so dull today,” he gently caressed your face but as you gave a bitter reaction as a response, he realised that something was wrong and immediately apologised for making the joke. he quickly changed to listening mode, ready to listen to you but even if you don’t tell him, he’d just sit with you until you’re ready to speak.

as you open up, he’d offer some tricks to get away from the crowd even if they’re bizarre.

“if you get tired, just go into your car and drive home, to me,” he proudly smirked

“hanie…i have to be there.”

“okay then just go to the washroom and call me if you start feeling tired of socialising.”

“why would i call you if i’m tired of socialising.”

“well i didn’t think i make you feel tired of socialising,” he said in disbelief.

he means it all as a joke but he definitely has some good advice and suggestions hidden in there which really gets you through a day.

+

joshua was suspecting that you were going to feel this way even before you left the house. so when you came home with the expression that screamed ‘exhausted’ he could only greet you with a smile which hid his frown. he was upset knowing he couldn’t do much to avoid you from feeling that way but he knew he could provide you comfort so that’s what he did.

he greeted you home with a hug and asked if you wanted some alone time in case you wanted to recharge on your own.

there’s something that really brightens his day when you say you want to spend your time with him. he’d definitely spends the night pampering you and making you some comfort food while finding things you like to do like listening to music or reading a book together, whatever helps you recharge. the days definitely a lot more silent but you’re just comfortably in each others space.

in the bed before you two sleep, he holds you close. both your eyes are shut but he still whispers words from his heart.

“you did amazing today yn and you’ll do even better tomorrow. but remember you can tell me when it gets hard, okay? just tell me what you need.”

[danisdistant]

sunday - your past sins are meaningless now - part one

[intro blog] | [taglist] | [masterlist] | [table of contents]

»» ──────ஓ๑ ★ ๑ஓ ────── ««

sunday x stellaronhunter!reader

although it was only three days, it felt almost eternal when you’re locked up in a dark room. it doesn’t help that hunger has been gnawing away inside his body.

jade had been checking up on him periodically from time to time to remind him that her offer still stands. even hours before the trial was in preparation, she gave him one last chance. granted, her patience was growing thin.

“are you really going to die like this, sunday?” she said, walking up to him as she lifted his chin. he was already pale-skinned, but even in the dark she could tell he was almost as white as a ghost.

even with this confrontation, sunday refused to maintain eye contact with her. “i’ve told you, for the past three days. i do not want your pity.”

“…well then.” jade sighed, releasing his chin and turned around for the last time. “i’ll go ahead and let the rest know that the trial is still under way.”

“you should already know that your death won’t be quick and painless.”

and just like that, the door shut once more, sealing his faith. sunday felt numb. he knew he could’ve accepted her offer in the first place, at least for robin. but right now, he couldn’t bare to see her face again. not after what he’s done.

he can’t run away from his sins, after all.

»» ──────ஓ๑ ★ ๑ஓ ────── ««

“wow, golden hour is so… golden.” you mumbled, walking around the hustling and bustling city. “it almost makes me feel like i wanna spend all my money on the casinos.”

“yeah yeah. do that and you’ll get caught by the bloodhounds.” silver wolf spoke through the hologram as she crossed her arms. “oh yeah. kafka told me to remind you about her gift. seems like she really wants some new shades.”

“shades huh?” you placed your hand on your chin. “doesn’t she already have like fifteen pairs of them?”

“well yeah, but i’m sure she’d like some from penacony.” she looked around before pointing at a store on the side. “over there, they’re selling some sick looking things.”

“wolfie… that’s a game shop.” you stared at her in disbelief before shaking your head. “unless you want me to get kafka some shades based off some paper birds.”

“anyway, how much time left do i have till i have to break a bird out of its cage?”

“three system hours and twenty-five system minutes.” silver wolf typed something in the air before her relaxed expression turned slightly more serious. “you better start moving [name]. some bloodhounds are getting close.”

“alright. i’ll move and get something for kafka. and a new console for you.”

“haha, that’s what i’m talking about, [name]. alright, i’ll get back to you once you break in. try not to get spotted. i hope you maxed out your stealth points.”

“yeah yeah…” you muttered, turning off the hologram before placing the device into your pocket.

as you set your eyes on the game store, you wondered what kind of games they would be selling in a dream?

»» ──────ஓ๑ ★ ๑ஓ ────── ««

“thirty system minutes.” silver wolf said in your headset as you started to walk to sunday’s supposed location. “apparently, his trial is in about an hour, so security in the area is a lot more tight.”

“should it really matter if i make a big scene or not when i break in?” you mumbled quietly into the mic as you passed by some people. “i mean after all, we’re here for one person. break in, save him from the cage or whatever, and leave.”

“eh, if you’re all in on min-maxing your bounty when you’re caught, i’m fine by it.”

“what?! no way, i’m stuck on 6.9 billion credits.”

you could hear silver wolf’s smirk over the mic. “nice. well, it doesn’t matter anyway. it’s about to go up to 7 billion.”

“hey! you aren’t authorized to enter here.” an ipc guard blocked your way to the entrance of an ipc building. “turn around, or i’ll have to resort to force!”

“7.1 billion. sorry, miscalculated.” silver wolf replied as you pulled out your weapon. “don’t worry, i have the screenshot of your bounty, and i’ll share it with the others. anyway, the guard just called back up. good luck.”

“thanks wolfie. i’ll take it from here.”

»» ──────ஓ๑ ★ ๑ஓ ────── ««

sunday sat still. he was counting the seconds, minutes, and hours, he had left once jade closed the door. he had been stuck in complete silence, minus his own heartbeat and breathing, for four hours now.

as soon as he heard footsteps, he knew that his time was up. he stopped counting. at this point, he wondered if he should finally look at jade in the eye.

“dang it, it’s locked!” an unfamiliar muffled voice came from the other side. his wing twitched, suddenly curious at the foreign voice.

that’s… not what he was expecting at all. was someone else besides jade going to escort him? or is it someone unauthorized trying to break in?

“ugh, i’m just going to brute force it.” the voice said before a loud audible thud filled the room. sunday noticed only a small dent appeared on the metal door.

“dang it, it’ll take me forever to open this!” you groaned as you looked around for some kind of lock or code. you weren’t tight on time, but you did wish to get out of the creepy dark hall and room as fast as possible.

“tsk.” silver wolf clicked her tongue after a brief pause. “if you’d wait a second, you wouldn’t have made yourself noticeable to five other ipc guards. anyway, the code is six-nine-four-two-zero.”

“ok- got it.” quickly, you punched in the numbers and the door opened before you.

you weren’t exactly sure what you were expecting when you heard that sunday was locked up in a room. but, you certainly weren’t expecting him to be chained up in a chair.

“jeez.. the security on you is quite impressive.” you mumbled, causing sunday to finally look at you confused.

“…you’re not the ipc..” he muttered, trying to recall where he has seen your familiar appearance before.

right, you’re a stellaron hunter, specially [name]. he had seen you on the ipc broadcasting channel here and there after your interference with the company.

but, what exactly are you doing here? what exactly are you going to do with a man who’s going to be dead soon?

“nope, not with those suckers.” you smirked slightly, partly listening to silver wolf’s keyboard as she tries to find a way to release the chains. “i’m [name], one of the stellaron hunters if you haven’t heard about me before.”

“right now, your trial is upcoming in a couple of minutes, but i’m here to get you out.” giving a thumbs up, sunday shook his head.

“…don’t. i deserve what i’m going to be charged for, even if it means death.” he muttered, turning away as you looked at him surprised. you were honestly expecting him to be ecstatic to leave.

well, it doesn’t really matter how he feels. after all, the script did say to free him from the chains.

“uhuhh..” you said, listening to the footsteps outside that seem to be getting closer. “well, a little birdie told me to get you out of your chains, is to just snap them.”

“wait- you’ve.. disabled them??” sunday looked at his wrists to realize that the dull purple glow was gone. at a slash of your weapon, both of the chains snapped off his wrists.

he gasped, although he wasn’t sure why. surprise that the chains actually broke? relief that he’s free? or infuriated that a stellaron hunter is helping him?

“alright bird man.” you turned around as more ipc guards appeared at the door, aiming their weapons as you prepared to attack. “i’m going to save you, whether you like it or not.”

really, sunday himself wasn’t sure if he did mind being saved or not.

»» ──────ஓ๑ ★ ๑ஓ ────── ««

“alright, that’s the last guy.” you huffed as the final body fell to the ground with a satisfying thud. “we’ll be leaving penacony as soon as we wake up.”

“and if you’re thinking about running away, i have a small bird keeping my eye on you.” you glared, causing sunday to respond with a small nod.

so, it seems she really is serious about breaking me out and taking me hostage. it’s no secret that the stellaron hunters are planning something.. yet, i’m in no condition to fight and resist. sunday said mentally as he followed you out of the area. although, i wonder who’s the other stellaron hunter she’s referring to as her bird…?

despite his suspicions, sunday believed that the best course of action is to do as you say as the two of you break out.

“alright wolfie, we’re at a safe area. get us out of the dreamscape before more ipc guards catch up to us.” you placed two fingers on your headset as silver wolf gave you the clear.

[previous] | [next]

»» ──────ஓ๑ ★ ๑ஓ ────── ««

[m1ckeyb3rry]

── THE GLASS PRINCESS // THREE

Series Synopsis: You wake up in a strange room with no memories, broken glass at your bedside, and a prince named Zuko as your only chance at figuring out who you really are.

Chapter Synopsis: You have your first day at the Royal Fire Academy, where you meet the other girls, including Kaho.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.1k

Content Warnings: complicated relationships (strangers to friends to lovers to enemies to strangers to lovers to enemies to lovers), amnesia, alternate universe, lots of secrets and lying and mystery

A/N: zuko in his letters (sage, wise, cool and collected) vs zuko irl (SOO fucking awkward)

To His Royal Highness The Prince Zuko,

I apologize for my earlier language. In truth, it feels strange for me to speak to you as if you were my friend. I think that it is because you are my benefactor, and a prince besides, so there is a need for formal and proper conduct. We have that kind of relationship, if you can see it from my perspective.

Your offer of help is greatly appreciated, though I am not quite sure what I have done to deserve it. I shall try to solve my troubles on my own, when I can, but if it should come to it, I will try to remember that I have the prince of the Fire Nation on my side. I wonder how many girls at the academy can claim that, indeed!

Anyways, my roommate is nice. Her name is Jia-Li, and she is self-reportedly average, but all told, we get along well enough. I wish I could say the same for the rest of my classmates — barring, naturally, Ty Lee — but I am afraid to report that we already do not get along. There is this one girl, Kaho, who has a specific grudge against me, despite my attempts at avoiding that outcome…but I should not bore you with the details. Suffice to say that not everyone is as kind as Jia-Li and Ty Lee and Mai and you have been. It is as Jia-Li said, though: two true friends are better than ten false ones. It does not upset me (though it might if I am challenged to an Agni Kai!)

Thank you for feeding Bian. She did seem pleased when she returned to the aviary at the academy. I also gave her a treat. By the way, the falconer said she was supposed to be yours. Is that true? If it is, then I do not think that I deserve such a creature, though of course I thank you for giving her to me anyways. She is very beautiful and possesses a gentle heart, which is a solace in the more trying times.

Ever Your Highness’s humble and obedient servant Sincerely, Ursa

P.S. I am sorry to say that I still do not recall anything about my past. I shall keep you updated if that changes.

You were up before Jia-Li, nervous energy thrumming through you in anticipation for the first day of classes. Ty Lee had stayed late into the night, and then you had spent the candle Jia-Li had lit for you writing to Prince Zuko, so you hadn’t had any time to read or prepare for lessons.

“Ugh,” Jia-Li groaned when you threw open the curtains, the rising sunlight filtering into the room, a beam landing directly on her face, which she promptly covered with a pillow. “What are you doing?”

“You’re a Firebender, aren’t you? Don’t you all rise with the sun anyways?” you said.

“I don’t know who told you that, but they were full of bullshit,” Jia-Li said. “I rise after I’ve had a full night’s rest, which I have not yet.”

“Breakfast is soon,” you said, pulling on your shoes. “You’ll miss it if you don’t get ready now, and then you’ll have to go to class on an empty stomach. I’m sure that doesn’t sound appealing.”

“On second thoughts, I miss not having a roommate,” Jia-Li said, though she did toss aside her pillow and roll out of the bed, thudding to the ground and shoving her feet in a pair of fluffy slippers. Her hair stuck up every which way, and there were bags under her half-lidded eyes as she trudged past you to her vanity table. “You can go ahead and meet Ty Lee in the dining hall now, if you want. I’ll come down later.”

“Do you think she’ll be there already?” you said.

“Yeah,” Jia-Li said. “That girl is the epitome of a morning person. She’s probably been anxiously waiting for you for a while now.”

“Then I shouldn’t keep her waiting any longer,” you said. “See you in class, Jia-Li.”

“See you, Ursa,” she said.

As Jia-Li had predicted, Ty Lee was waiting outside of the door to the dining hall, where all of the girls who boarded at the academy had their meals. She was playing with her fingers nervously, but when she saw you, she bloomed with joy, dancing over to stand beside you.

“Good morning! Are you ready for our first day?” she trilled.

“Not at all,” you said. “I didn’t have any time to read yesterday. I don’t know anything. If the teacher calls on me, I’ll be lost.”

“It’ll be fine,” Ty Lee said, putting a piece of bread on her plate and spreading something on its fluffy surface. “We’re new, so we’ll probably get away with sitting in the back and doing the bare minimum.”

“Let’s hope so,” you said, copying her, trusting her to know what was and wasn’t good to eat at the school. She flounced to the end of the table, and you followed her, sitting across from her so that you two could talk.

“Ty Lee!” a girl said. “Come sit with us!”

“No, sit with us!” another said.

“We asked first!” the first girl said.

“So? She obviously likes us more, we’re way hotter!” the second argued. They began to squabble as you gave Ty Lee a bewildered look.

“What is going on?” you said.

“Besides Kaho, almost everyone at the school liked me…” she said awkwardly. “I guess you could say I was popular! Everyone’s happy I’m back.”

“Looks like it,” you said, baffled at just how many people were trying to claim the spot at Ty Lee’s side. Thankfully, none of them tried to take your space, though you got your own share of dirty glares, which you could only cock your head at in confusion.

“Guys, go away. I’m trying to hang out with my friend from the palace, Ursa,” Ty Lee said.

“What was she there, a servant?” one of the girls said. You glanced down at your clothes, which were the same uniform as everyone else, and then you swallowed. Unlike the other girls, with their expensive hair ribbons and jewelry, you didn’t have anything to your name that marked you as a daughter of nobility — because you weren’t one. It was a safe assumption for the girl to make, and it was even one you’d made about yourself in the past, so why did it hurt your feelings that she had said such a thing?

“Hey!” Ty Lee said. “She’s a friend of the prince — I mean, the princess! Yeah, that’s right, she’s Azula’s friend!”

Immediately, the girls scrambled away from you, and the one who had called you a servant paled. Dropping to her knees before Ty Lee, she bowed her head.

“I am so, so sorry. I didn’t mean any disrespect to a friend of Princess Azula’s!” she said.

“Apologize to Ursa,” Ty Lee said, chipper again now that she had found some kind of justice for you.

“It’s fine, Ty Lee. I can see why she thought that, so I’m not upset,” you said. The girl took the opportunity to leap to her feet and race to the other side of the table, the others following suit at the reminder of the princess.

“Those girls are all jerks,” Ty Lee said once you were alone again. “I’m sorry she was talking about you like that.”

“It’s not something you should say sorry for,” you said. “You didn’t do it. Anyways, I was expecting it; Jia-Li told me that the girls aren’t that nice, so it’s not a surprise. The real question is why you claimed my association to be with the princess instead of the prince.”

“Oh, that’s an easy one to answer,” she said. “They all remember Azula from when she attended, so she’s a more concrete threat in their minds. Only a few of them have met Zuko, and he’s been banished for a while, so his name doesn’t carry as much weight. Besides, if you’re associated with one member of the royal family, you’re associated with all of them, so I wasn’t technically wrong.”

“Alright,” you said, forcing yourself to chew on your food, even though it felt heavy and leaden in your mouth. It wasn’t a question of taste; somewhere, in the back of your mind, you could tell that you would ordinarily like eating this. It was your nerves which were ruining the experience, which made your tongue stiff and your jaw tight. You knew, though, that you needed food in order to have energy for the day, so you made yourself eat it despite your misgivings, despite the mental labor that even the mere act of swallowing took.

The classroom was small, which made sense, considering there were only a few girls in your year. What didn’t make sense was that the two desks in the very front were left open, though you had an inkling that one specific person had something to do with it.

“Ty Lee. Ursa,” a girl said. Her hair was pin straight and dark, half of it tied up with a white-and-gold ribbon, the rest falling around her shoulders, her midnight eyes reflecting the torches hanging around the classroom. “We saved you two seats.”

“Kaho,” Ty Lee said through gritted teeth. “You shouldn’t have.”

“I know,” Kaho said. “You can say I did it out of the goodness of my own heart.”

“Like I said,” Ty Lee said. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Thank you,” you said softly, not wanting to get into an argument with the very girl Jia-Li had warned you about last night.

“See,” Kaho said. “At least one of you has proper manners. Though, to be honest, I would’ve expected the daughter of a nobleman to be raised better than the girl that the prince found in the trash.”

“She wasn’t found in the trash!” Ty Lee said.

“Wasn’t she?” Kaho said.

“You can let it be, Ty Lee. It’s fine,” you said. “Let’s just sit down before the Etiquette Mistress gets here.”

Your first class was on the proper etiquette to have in polite society. Considering the many subtleties of etiquette, this was something you were nervous for, as you had no idea how to behave in polite society, or what any of that meant in the first place. It seemed that the others expected as much, for there was a multitude of snickers as you sat in the very front and waited for the Etiquette Mistress to arrive.

“Wonderful, everyone is on time!” the Etiquette Mistress said as she walked in exactly at the second class had to start. She was a neatly dressed and perfectly put together woman, with not even an eyelash out of place. “Let’s begin promptly with a review from our last class. Who can tell me what the three pillars of etiquette are?” She scanned the room, but only one girl had her hand raised. “Kaho?”

“Respect, consideration, and punctuality,” Kaho said, smirking as she folded her hands in her lap. The Etiquette Mistress did not frown, but the corners of her mouth threatened to tug downwards, and before you could think about it, you were raising your own hand.

“Ursa?” the Etiquette Mistress said. “Do you have something else to add?”

“It’s a common misconception that punctuality is a pillar of etiquette. However, in truth, it is not a pillar unto itself but rather a natural development and extension of the pillars of respect and consideration,” you said, though you had no idea where the words were coming from, only that some long-dormant knowledge of yours was bubbling to the surface. “The third pillar is actually honesty, madam, though of course honesty does not imply brutality but tact, benevolence, and integrity.”

Everyone in the room was silent. You could feel Kaho’s eyes boring holes into your back, but you stared steadily ahead, waiting for the Etiquette Mistress to react.

She smiled slightly. “That is correct. I also appreciate that you addressed me with a title; it demonstrates an elegant sort of etiquette that a lady must be born with or else have studied in depth from a young age.”

“Thank you, madam,” you said. The Etiquette Mistress nodded before turning to the board so that she could continue to teach you a lesson on which utensils to use for which meal.

This, too, you excelled in. You were the only student who knew when to use each utensil, even during the trick questions that the Etiquette Mistress threw out to trip you up. With every subsequent test passed, you felt your approval in the eyes of the Etiquette Mistress rising, though it was rapidly falling amongst your classmates, especially Kaho, who must’ve once been the star of the class.

“I thought you said you didn’t have time to study!” Ty Lee hissed once the Etiquette Mistress had left and you all were given a five minute break before the History Mistress arrived.

“I didn’t,” you said.

“Huh? Then how’d you manage to answer her questions so perfectly?” she said.

“I’m not sure. I just knew it already, somehow,” you said.

“Looks like Prince Zuko has a keen eye,” Kaho said from behind you. “To find the diamond amongst the sludge.”

For some reason, even though she was calling you a diamond, it didn’t feel like much of a compliment. Ty Lee seemed to agree, her kind, open face closing into a dark scowl.

“Kaho, you should just shut up,” she said.

“Is that a challenge?” Kaho said.

“It could be, but don’t forget that I’m one of Azula’s most trusted comrades. Is that a fight you think you could win?” Ty Lee said. Kaho seemed furious, but she had no argument, not when Ty Lee was objectively correct.

“The History Mistress will be here soon,” Jia-Li interjected, trying to break the tension. “Let’s forget about all of this and move on.”

“Sozin’s beard, Jia-Li, nobody cares about history,” Kaho said, rolling her eyes. “Just sit in the back and keep quiet like usual.”

Jia-Li stuck her tongue out at Kaho when the other turned away, but you noticed she did not stand up for herself. Ty Lee was the only one who was brave enough to say anything, and even then, you wondered how much of it was false bravado and how much of it was genuine self-confidence.

“Good morning, class,” the History Mistress said.

“Good morning, History Mistress,” you all chorused in unison.

“Today, we will be learning about an event that occurred relatively recently, but will definitely be written down in the history books in the years to come: Prince Zuko’s defeat of Ba Sing Se,” she said.

Ba Sing Se — it was where the prince had found you. You knew that the city had, at some point, fallen to the Fire Nation, but you didn’t know what had happened or how it had happened. This was definitely a topic of some personal interest to you, and you could not help leaning forward in your seat a bit.

“I thought we might go over this, since we now have a personal connection to it in the class,” the History Mistress said. “Namely, Ursa, who was found by Prince Zuko during the invasion.”

The entire class turned to look at you as the History Mistress began to draw a diagram on the board. The weight of their gazes was a suffocating burden, but you did not afford them the privilege of seeing you crumple, for you knew that you had to, in some way, remain strong, lest they pounce upon your perceived weakness.

“During his hunt for the Avatar, Prince Zuko and his uncle, the former General Iroh, found themselves separated from their ship and amongst Earth Kingdom refugees fleeing to the capital city of Ba Sing Se.

“It seemed to be a damning sentence; after all, what place does Fire Nation royalty have in such a city? But our prince is wise and loyal. He and his uncle opened a tea shop in order to bide their time, blending in with the city and learning its secrets.

“Taking a risk, he wrote to his father, telling him he had found a way into Ba Sing Se. The Fire Lord Ozai, who has always had the utmost of faith in his son to do what must be done, sent him the Soldiers of Agni in aid, promising a larger army if the Soldiers of Agni were not enough.

“For those of you who do not recall our lesson from the beginning of the term about the military structures that Fire Lord Azulon put into place, the Soldiers of Agni are the most elite Firebenders in the nation, excepting, of course, the royal family.

“So these proud men, who were the epitome of Fire itself, donned the muddy browns and greens of the Earth Kingdom on the command of their lord and snuck into Ba Sing Se in the same way that Prince Zuko and former General Iroh had. There, they met the prince, who formed their plan of attack.

“On the agreed-upon date, the Soldiers of Agni and Prince Zuko stormed the palace, beginning by executing all of the guards who tried to fight back. The rest of the guards, knowing they were outnumbered, quickly defected, and when the former General Iroh tried to stop them, they took him prisoner for the royal family, allowing the Soldiers of Agni and Prince Zuko to continue their invasion.

“Their main goal was to get rid of everyone who lived in that palace, in which they were successful. Not even the Earth King’s pet bear was spared. He and the rest of the palace’s inhabitants were destroyed, along with an entire wing of the Earth Palace, which the Soldiers of Agni brought crumbling to the ground with their fire and their might.

“Sadly, all of the Soldiers of Agni that fought to take the Earth Palace lost their lives that day. Most of the palace staff were Earthbenders, and they fought back, outnumbering the Soldiers of Agni ten to one. The Soldiers of Agni possessed superior skills, but those were barely enough against such a large quantity of enemies.

“We cannot forget the sacrifices they made. It is through the bravery, spirit, and courage of the Soldiers of Agni that the Fire Nation finally took Ba Sing Se for good. Even in a confrontation where they were at such an enormous disadvantage, the Soldiers of Agni kept fighting for their country, their home, and for the Fire Lord, eventually emerging victorious, though they were unable to enjoy the fruits of their victory. We must always follow this example of duty and selflessness, ever asking ourselves what we, too, can give up for the welfare of the Fire Nation.”

After her long-winded explanation, the History Mistress exhaled, wiping away a tear from the corner of her left eye and then holding her hands to her heart. You all had a quiet moment, presumably in honor of the Soldiers of Agni, and then, tentatively, Jia-Li raised her hand.

“History Mistress, what does all of that have to do with Ursa?” she said.

“That’s something you should ask her, not me,” the History Mistress said, motioning towards you. “Go on, Ursa. Tell us what part you played in this entire tale.”

You gulped. “To be frank, I don’t remember myself what my role was, but I’ve been filled in by Mai and Prince Zuko. Apparently, I was a Fire Nation soldier on the front lines, but at some point, I was taken prisoner by the Earth Kingdom. They were torturing me in Ba Sing Se for Fire Nation secrets. After invading the city, Prince Zuko found me, and he brought me to the palace to be healed. It was there that I woke up without any memories.”

“You were a soldier?” Kaho said, without even raising her hand. She scoffed. “You look entirely too soft to ever have been fighting on the front lines.”

“Kaho, she was in jail for who knows how long,” Jia-Li said softly. “Of course she’s not in fighting shape anymore. Especially if they were torturing her…poor Ursa. You’re so brave for not giving in.”

“That’s right,” the History Mistress said. “We must all endeavor to be like Ursa, as well, who after all of her ordeals is still set upon nothing but improving herself for her country. She truly is the example of what a Fire Nation citizen should be like. Now, let us thank her for sharing her story.”

“Thank you, Ursa,” everyone said. You sat on your hands and hated every second of it. You didn’t like the attention being called to you once again. You just wanted to fade into the background and be forgotten, but more and more, it seemed like that was impossible.

“The topic of prisoners is a great segue into what we’re going to be talking about in today’s lesson. Who can name one historical Fire Nation figure that was also kept in captivity by the Earth Kingdom?” the History Mistress said.

To no one’s surprise, it was Kaho volunteering once more, but this time, she was unchallenged, as you focused all of your energy on writing notes about the material. After all, you didn’t know any of this, and you figured it was likely important that you pick up such things, considering the entirely blank slate that was your mind at present.

The academy’s aviary was only a short walk from the dormitories, and you found yourself frequenting the path already, both because of your correspondence with Prince Zuko and because Bian was one of the few beings that you could say without question was your friend.

“I don’t understand why they already have decided that I am so worthless,” you sniffed, finally allowing yourself to cry in the solitude of the aviary.

Bian tilted her head at you, nudging you with her cold beak. You wiped away your tears before scratching her on her feathery chest.

“I don’t even know half of their names,” you said. “Yet they are convinced that I am someone less than them. Someone worthless. They think of me as waste, Bian — a rubbish girl who does not deserve to be their peer.”

Of course, your messenger hawk was not intimately acquainted with the subtleties of such politics and divisions, but for the moment, it seemed as if she understood, as she let out a low, rumbling coo. It was the most comfort you could dream of, and you bit your lip to prevent a sob from falling past your lips.

“Maybe it’s true,” you said. “You can decorate trash all you want. At the end of the day, you can’t change what it is. Maybe I don’t belong here. I don’t know what Prince Zuko was thinking, sending me to study with these girls.”

Bian nipped your sleeve, almost like a reprimand. You gave her a warning look, reminding her to keep her beak to herself, but all you earned in response was indifference — your reward for thinking a bird could read your expressions and would care about them, even if she could.

“And for some reason, Kaho has a personal vendetta against me,” you said. “I can’t think of anything I’ve done to deserve it. Is it because I corrected her during our etiquette class? But she hated me even before that.”

Jia-Li had mentioned something about Kaho envying you for your closeness with the royal family, but it wasn’t as if you had chosen that. You hadn’t chosen to be saved by Prince Zuko. You hadn’t chosen to lose your memories. You hadn’t chosen to live like this. None of it was in your control, so why did she blame you for it all?

“I just wish I knew who I was,” you said. “Things would be easier if I knew there was someone who loved me. Someone who was waiting for me to come back. If I was a Fire Nation soldier, then my family — they might be nearby, right? I should…I should be trying to find them, not studying at this school!”

You could feel the judgment rolling off of Bian in waves, which was ridiculous, because she was after all just a messenger hawk and was incapable of judging anyone. Still, if she were a person, you fancied she would be judging you at the moment, and your shoulders slumped as you realized how ridiculous you sounded.

“I’m in a position that many greatly desire, and here I am, complaining. I am in an elite institution, my tutelage sponsored by a prince who is only all-too-eager to help me with whatever I need. It is silly that I am so upset, it’s just that — it’s just that I feel like some part of me is missing. Like I lost who I am when I lost my memories, and not just in the sense of my identity. It was something physical. There is something more to me that is out of my grasp, and no matter how hard I try, I cannot reach it,” you said, extending your hand and closing your fist around empty air.

As per usual, there was nothing. It was a futile exercise. No matter how many times you did it, the result would be the same. You would not be able to find that part of you again, not for some time.

“Who am I, really?” you said to Bian. “That’s what I want to know. Who was Ursa? Who were my parents? Did I have siblings? What about friends? What did I do for fun? I don’t know any of it. I feel like I will only be happy again if I can find out. Even if it’s terrible. Even if it means reliving the torture that the Earth Kingdom put me through. I just want to remember.”

But try as you might, there was still nothing. You still had no idea who you were. Although you had had a full day of instruction at the academy, you were in no better of a position than you had been on the day you started.

Ursa,

You really can just call me Zuko. You don’t have to refer to me as the prince, unless you are completely more comfortable with that. Though it is true that I am your benefactor, I am not someone you should defer to. If you can bring yourself to do it, then I should like if you actually think of me as your friend. I would like to consider you mine, and so I will speak to you as if you are until you tell me otherwise.

I’d expect that none of the girls at the academy can claim that the prince of the Fire Nation is offering them friendship, and will be on their side even if they should reject that offer! Anyways, I have no doubt that you will be able to solve any issues that come your way, but sometimes, it is nice to have support. I want to be that for you. Even if it is not me, I hope there is someone at the academy who you can turn to for that.

It is a relief to hear that your roommate is someone likable. I asked Mai about Jia-Li; though she had nothing favorable to say, there was also nothing unfavorable, which is almost more of a compliment, coming from her. It’s good to know that you do not have to sleep beside someone you detest.

And speaking of, I am angered to hear that they have been treating you that way. Please remember that you are worth ten of them in my eyes. You only need to say the word, and I will have them spoken to harshly. Especially that Kaho, who has always been the horrid type (Mai was a little more explicit in her description, but I will spare you the specifics. Just imagine the most obscene expletives you can think of, and then imagine something even worse — that is probably in the range of what she was saying about her). Do not let her get you down; she is a spoiled, sheltered girl whose father is an Admiral and allows her to get away with doing whatever she wants because of his high status in the military. If you stand up to her, then I am sure she will back down. People like that usually do.

Yes, Bian was supposed to be my hawk, but I already have one and have no need for another, so she would’ve just sat in the aviary once I received her. It is for her own good that I gave her to you. If you do not like such an extravagant creature being yours alone, then you may imagine that you are borrowing her from me for the time being (though I will not accept her return — I think that she is attached to you now).

She is an exemplary bird, is she not? The falconer was very proud of her when she hatched. Although, I don’t know if anyone else would agree that she possesses a gentle heart; it’s not something typically said about messenger hawks, which are frequently ill-tempered. It is further proof that she is fond of you and was always meant to be yours, no matter whose name she was hatched in.

My own life has been dreadfully boring as of late. Meeting after meeting after meeting…it is definitely busy, being the prince of the Fire Nation. It’s like everyone wants to talk to me suddenly! But I’m not complaining. I much prefer being home to living on a ship and constantly wondering when I can go back, even if I had considerably more free time back then. 

I cannot think of anything else to write to you about, but I do not wish to stop quite yet, because once I am done with this letter, I will have to attend to some paperwork that I have been putting off. 

It has been sunny recently. The cooks made my favorite meal yesterday. Mai has been moping a lot more than usual (I think she misses Ty Lee). I gave bread to the turtleducks in the pond, and it seemed to cheer their spirits. My father allows me to sit at his right side for meetings nowadays, though as always, Azula is at his left. 

That’s about it. I guess that, as the heir to the throne, I should not keep procrastinating. It’s not very princely of me. 

Yours, Zuko

P.S. Once again, I am sorry to hear that. 

P.P.S. Please keep writing to me frequently, and with as many boring details as you care to include. I like hearing from you will take any excuse to not fill out these ridiculously tedious forms.